#and i PREDICTED kill all your friends and it happened. whatever

[h0useofw0lves]

i keep these in my inbox to remind me i cherish these

does anyone rememebr kill all your friends live 2023

[alastors-antlers]

a brief take on the whole "Alastor's smile is permanent" discussion

hello all!

I've seen a lot of people theorizing lately that Alastor actually smiles all the time because his smile is magically, physically fixed onto his face. All of this seems to come from the fact that he's practically grimacing rather than smiling during the scene where he breaks down in ep8:

As well as this frame of his deal with Charlie: (lower res sorry)

I will say, I do like some of the implications of this theory. The sheer spite of his creditor forcing him to smile as an addition to their deal, almost like a sort of forced silence, is a neat concept. It's fun and dramatic. Plus, of all things, of course Alastor would claim the "smile at all times" policy and make it his own to pretend that it was his decision all along lol.

To be fair, though, I don't think we even need any magical compulsion to explain why he's smiling while he's having a mental breakdown. Actually, if we assume magical compulsion, I think we lose a bit of dimension from Alastor's character. (No judgement to anyone's take though, of course -- I just think this works in the direction of his established characterization, but obviously all personal takes <3)

Hear me out:

Alastor's persona is not just for others to see.

"A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends; keeps your enemies guessing; and ensures that whatever comes your way, you're the one in control."

That makes sense given what we know about him. If he's always smiling, he seems like he has it together. You can't read him very well, especially not when he's actively trying to keep up appearances.

Now consider that when you think about ep8's fight with Heaven, we see that he's already been through so much in this one day.

He fights an army of angels, presumably not even at his own whim (if we go by his blurb about freedom in the Finale song); he loses to Adam, who he considers sloppy and mediocre; his staff, which we can assume holds some part of his power, is snapped; he comes close to being Angelic-power-killed; and to top it all off, he knows that others watched him get injured and then apparently die or flee, all of which would ruin the public image that he's trying to maintain. It wouldn't even be unreasonable for us to assume that he knows Vox was watching, given that Vox kind of has eyes everywhere.

In a moment like this, in the finale, you could say that Alastor has lost (at least on some level) everything that we know matters to him. He doesn't have access to all of his magic, and it's limiting him. He's reminded that he doesn't have freedom or control over his own destiny. He certainly has taken massive hits to his powerful, composed persona. But he's desperate, and furious, and terrified, and clinging on.

That's why he's smiling.

It's not that he can't stop because he physically can't. It's that he can't stop because to him, the smile is the last thing that is still within his power. When there are so many moving parts that he can't predict what happens to him next, he can control how he responds to it. In these last fragments of autonomy, there is solace.

He needs to keep telling himself that he has it together and that he'll eventually scheme his way free, that there's a solution, that he won't be in chains forever; because letting his pretense slip would be admitting that it's all starting to actually get to him. That maybe this time, he doesn't have an escape plan.

In addition, if you read his interactions throughout the series, we also see something else: Alastor's reputation is of paramount importance to him. At multiple points throughout the series, when others disrespect him by discounting his power or presence, he gets visibly annoyed. And in the battle, we see a glimpse of the part of his personality he seems to be trying to leave behind - a normal Alastor, who's just some guy from Louisiana. No transatlantic accent; no unflappable malice; no sharp wit waiting at the ready. Maybe even unremarkable.

Dropping his smile - arguably the most prominent part of his brand - would be admitting that in reality, he's not the Radio Demon of legend that he aspires to project. And if he doesn't have that... where would he be?

[vaeylahh]

𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒐𝒖? 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖.

---------------------------------------------------

𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐂𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐘 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

Tw:: Slight mention of murder, smut, no plot porn, slight degradation (Reader insulting Toby Lol), soft!dom Toby, Power!sub reader, creampie, raw sex, use of weed, high Toby, cussing at every paragraph. (cuz the writer is immature)

𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝟭𝟴+ 𝗜 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗕𝗘 𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗠𝗨𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗥𝗦.

If i missed out any warnings please tell me..

---------------------------------------------------

It was a quiet night, living off by yourself and paying for your own tuition for college like every usual day because you insisted on being “independent”. That really fucked you up to the core. Your dark undereye and pale lips were the evidence of those sleepless nights. You've sometimes regretted the foolish decision you made but then again, it was better than living off with your family who gives you zero to no privacy at all.

You were in the kitchen-living room downing down the 6th cup of coffee for the day. Your eyes lazily trailing off through the darkness and the pure silence of this depressing environment. You're not ready to end the day yet, you needed to do some jack shit project that had nothing to do with your course at all and it was driving you insane.

After finishing off your coffee, you simply placed the mug onto the sink ready to go back to whatever work you're doing on your computer but then you jolted back in surprise when you heard an all too familiar voice call out to you from your couch. A soft groan escaped your lips when you realized who it was.

Relaxing your tensed up shoulder, you made your way to the couch and just as you predicted, there was Toby, lazily slouching and man spreading on your couch like he owned the place. You didn't even realize he was in here, you wanted to ask when and how he got here unnoticed but something caught your attention. His eyes, tho it was dark, you couldn't mistake it to be slightly reddish meaning he was probably, currently high right now, smoked weed with his little killer friends too. You crossed your arms as you watched the man giggle at your pissed off expression.

Have i mentioned that Toby, an infamous serial killer around your neighborhood happened to be a friend-ish? If that's what you want to describe to him as. He's tried to kill you before, turns out you were the wrong target, tried to kill you either way to keep his identity a secret but you managed to convince him somehow to keep you alive. He had other plans, to put you in 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘂𝘀𝗲 for.

"Hey..i-i hope you don't mind me dropping by.." he spoke in a breathy tone with a shit-eating grin plastered on his lips. He moved closer to the arm chair, tugging at your arm with his gloved hands to pull you down with him on the couch. His neck twitched once as he did. "Come on..you know yo-you want muh-me here, what's with the frown?.."

You narrowed your eyes down at him and followed suit to his advances. Tho you're pissed–why wouldn't you? It's not everyday somebody clings to you so desperately like this. "Have you been smoking weed? Fuck you stink.."

He ignored your insult and nuzzled his face against your neck, pushing you down on the couch, making you accidentally hit your head on the armrest. You hissed and lifted your head up in annoyance. "Sorry.." He murmured against your neck, lightly rubbing the spot where you hit your head as if he could magically make the pain go away. As if this man knows what pain felt like.

You gritted your teeth in annoyance, narrowing your eyes at him but let go of it soon enough as he cuddled up to you. The man 𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗞𝗦 with sweat, blood and dirt. Sometimes you don't even understand how your gut was strong enough to withstand this stinky man. "I-i missed you Y/N..rea-..really i did.." Toby whispered against your ear, nibbling at your earlobe.

"I don't, damn it. When was the last time you showered?" You spoke harshly thinking he was just gonna cuddle up to you like any other day but that thought was soon scrapped when he pushed your legs apart–quite literally smacking it. He ground his hips against yours lightly, whimpering at your ears like the submissive fuck he was. "Y/N..cuh-can i touch you?.." He whispered softly, his hot breath tickling your neck as he spoke.

Your mind short-circuited at his advances, it took you a good minute to realize what was happening and what he was implying. You laid there staring up at the ceiling with your mouth open trying to think of something to say. It didn't make any sense that you're freaking out now, It's not like this was your first time having him act like a horny teenager around you, this man had his whole adolescence robbed from him by his shitty father–but then again it caught you off guard.

"Well yeah but-.." before you could even finish your sentence, he was already straddling your hips while undoing the belt of his jeans with shaky hands. "Take..take-..this off..please" He spoke in a shaky, breathy voice, tugging at your shorts before going back to his own pants. "You're so pathetic sometimes you know?.." The words left your mouth without you even realizing it.

He whined at your insult, yet you could quite literally see the desperation in his eyes. His cheeks getting reader and he was getting sweatier than usual. You complied to his request or more like his demand, tugging your shorts down along with your underwear. He lifted his hips up a bit so you could pull it down further. "Yes..yes..juh-just like that.." his head twitching to the side from excitement as he stared at your folds.

He unzipped his pants, palming himself two to three times through his boxers before pulling out his half-hard shaft out. He held your hips with one hand, the other stroking his member to life as he focused at the way your body looked underneath him. His mind racing with the intense adrenaline of his previous mission and the person laying beneath him which was 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

You watched thoroughly as he stroked himself, muttering curses underneath his breath as he held you in position with his rough, gloved hand. He's already leaking pre-cum down to your lower stomach, The sight made you shiver throughout your whole body, all the way down to your slick folds.

With half-lidded eyes, he laid flat ontop of you again, nuzzling his face against your neck. His hand squishing between you two as he guided his shaft down at your wet folds. Slowly he sunk into your tight, gummy walls, making him whimper.

He placed one arm over your head while his free hand held your hips tightly, his nails digging onto your flesh enough to bruise.He lazily moved his hips, thrusting in and out of you slowly at first. "Oh shit...you-.. you're so good, so..th-tight.." he moaned against your ear before lightly biting down at your neck. he quickened his pace with each thrust, unable to hold back from the pent up frustration he's stored upon himself.

His weight, alongside the feeling of him biting down on your neck made you feel light headed. You close your eyes tightly, focusing on the perfect rhythm of his hips thrusting against yours. It makes your legs shaky but in a desperate attempt to keep him close, you wrapped your legs around him. The couch creaking beneath you as he went faster. "Jesus Christ.. Toby..slow down-" Your moans more noticeable than before from his roughness.

"Oh fuck-..FUCK! Ah-..mhm.. I'm gonna-.." Toby moaned louder along with you as he chased his orgasm. He felt a familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, his cock twitching with needs and with the last couple of thrusts, he was spilling himself deep inside you. He stayed inside of you, making sure his cum was buried deep within.

You held him tightly against your chest until the pleasure subsided, eyebrows furrowed and beads of sweat forming around your forehead. Slowly you opened your eyes again, adjusting to the darkness of the living room with only the moonlight's glow acting as a dim light for you to see. You ran your hand through the Brunette's hair, pushing his messy hair out of his face.

"You staying?.." You spoke in a breathy tone.  Toby responded with a simple hum as he adjusted himself around you. He held you tightly, making sure you won't leave him even after he fell asleep. It's not like you could anyway, he was heavy as hell.

[meteor752]

Epic the musical side story where Hades and Persephone get really invested in the story during The underworld saga, sorta small talk about the strange man for the next couple of years, and then freak the fuck out in the audience during god games when they find out not only is the guy still alive, he’s managed to piss off like half the pantheon

Just

“Hey babe?”

“Yeah Perse?”

“There’s like, a bunch of mortals here”

“Mortals? What, how?”

“Idk, they’re like, on some ship”

“Huh. Should I call Thanatos, have him take care of it, or should we just wait it out”

“Call Thanatos, best to rid the garden of any pests before they manage to kill your flowers”

“Pfft, alright. I’ll be right back”

“Okay- wait. A bunch of the dead are singing to him”

“What?”

“Yeah like a bunch. Who are they?”

“Uhh, most of them drowned, a few killed by a cyclops. One broke his neck?”

“They’re singing about a cyclops, about how he let one live or something”

“Probably one of Poseidons. Should I still call Thanatos?”

“No wait, I wanna see where this goes.”

“Alright.”

“An infant, what infant?”

“Maybe the cyclops?”

“OH NEW GUY! He seems important!”

“Also a cyclops victim. They seem close, what do you think friend or lover?”

“They’re Greek, it’s probably both”

“I don’t know how he managed it, but this guy brought down like, the entire vibe of the entire underworld. That shouldn’t be possible”

“Yeah. Oh who’s this lady now?”

“Suicide by drowning. Not sure. Maybe a relative”

“Yeah may-THATS HIS MOM”

“OH MY GODS. OH HE DIDNT KNOW OH LORD”

“Hooooooly fuck, what a way to find out”

““Here in the underworld the past is always close behind”. Think we should make that a slogan?”

“Then we’d have to credit him and stuff tho”

“Yeahhhh. Well, seems like this guy is sticking around for a few hours. Should I grab some popcorn?”

“Yeah I’ll grab the fainting couches”

~~~

“Okay what’s happening now?”

“He just stated speaking to Tiresias”

“Tiresias? He went all the way to the underworld to speak with a prophet?”

“Well he is quite good”

“Wait did Tiresias just reject him?”

“I think so? Oh wait predictions”

“Past romance, sacrifice, betrayal, and some final battle? Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Dunno, but he’s not going home that’s for sure”

“Palace? He must be a king of some kind then”

“Do we know the names of any mortal kings”

“Nope, so that didn’t help at-wait his wife is doing what”

“Ohhh, that must be rough, hearing it from a prophet”

“Okay this chanting is getting intense. I think I heard the word Scylla”

“I heard lightning bolt”

“That doesn’t bode well”

~~~

“He’s just, sitting there”

“Is he done? Should we-oh. No okay new song, let’s see what’s going on”

“Man this guy has it rough. Should we like, do something?”

“I mean, I’m not really the “bless the mortals” type of god. I mean I let a guy borrow my helm once, and I haven’t seen it since. I should probably check up on that actually”

“Yeahhh. They killed a friend of the cyclops?”

“That explains all the cyclops victims”

““Witch turn men to pigs”, you think that’s Circe?”

“Sounds like he-WHAT WAS THAT THIRD ONE”

“You don’t think-?”

““God comes down and makes a fleet drown”, I am most definitely sure!”

“Damn. Wait wooden horse? Oh, I know who this guy is!”

“Really?”

“Yeah he’s one of Athenas warriors! Ody something. Odyssen? Odyssa? Whatever, I remember the horse thing was a big deal when it happened, Ares was pissed, Hermes spread the word to all of mount Olympus”

“One of Athenas eh? Interesting. Oh yeah, the god was definitely Poseidon”

“How are you sure?”

“That line he just sung, “Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves”, Posy is always fucking saying that crap”

“500 men? Damn”

“Penelope, presumably the wife. Don’t know about the other guy tho”

“Either a son, brother, or lover. Or maybe just a friend I dunno”

“Another infant? What the fuck is wrong with this guy, pulling a fucking Hera”

“Gotta appreciate the determination of him”

“Yeah, but I think we’ll see him here again soon. If he’s pissed of Poseidon, and soon to be Zeus if Tiresias is to be believed, I don’t think he’ll get much further when he gets out of here”

“So we are letting him go”

“Yeah. Partly because I want to see what happens next. When he gets here we’ll ask him to tell the full story, from beginning to end”

“Alrighty then”

~~~

“I swear if I get dragged out of the underworld for one of Zeus’ little games one more time this year I might actually start a war”

“Mum keeps staring at me…fuck she’s probably gonna try and talk after this, fuck meeeeee”

“We can escape in the middle of it, no one will know”

“Oh she’ll know. Do you know what this is about like, at all?”

“No, but I think Hermes might launch into the fourth dimension if he keeps vibrating like that in his seat”

“Yeesh”

“Hmm, odd. I don’t see Posy anywhere”

“Maybe he’s competing?”

“Nah, he always declines when Zeus asks, he hates it”

“Why were you not invited?”

“Dunno, probably has nothing to do with me”

“Oh it’s starting, it’s starting”

“Athena’s challenging eh? Interesting”

“Would love to know what any of this is about”

“Mortal lover? Demi-god child? Those are the usual subject”

“Yeah but that’s not Athenas thing. Probably something to do with one of her “warriors” or whatever”

“Apollo, of course. Always has to be apart of these things”

“The drama queen”

“Truly”

“Hephasteus and Aphrodite? That’s a little awkward”

“Weird lineup so far- fucking Ares? Yeah shes not winning this one, sibling spite is stronger than any argument she can give”

“Why would all three of them be included. I can feel the tension from here. I’m uncomfortable”

“And Hera? Yeah no she’s loosing for sure, Hera like not care less about any mortal, unless they’ve offended her”

“She might be convinced, just to spite Zeus?”

“That just sounds unhealthy on so many levels”

“Alright let’s see what this is about”

“Hold up, Ody?”

“Oh my gods. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Well he was one of her warriors. Was he not?”

“I can’t believe he’s still trying to get home. It’s been like ten years, how the fuck”

“Well, if he pissed off Poseidon then he probably has something to do with it, the pissy bastard”

“Killed sirens. Why would you do that, so unnecessary”

“Sacrifice??? What the fuck is this man up to????”

“Didn’t we have a few Scylla sacrifices a few years back. Think that was him?”

“Holy shit we did. Yeah, Posy stays away from Scylla to the best of his ability, travelling in her domain to avoid him is not a bad idea”

“‘Phro is mad that his mum died? Girl you are grasping at straws, even more than the previous two”

“Hold up, why the fuck was I not invited?! He traveled through my domain, disturbed my souls, he even woke up Cerberus with his monster wailing, I should be apart of this!”

“I mean it’s a bit weak”

“I have more grounds to be down there than fucking Apollo. Like sirens? Come on man”

“Oh ‘Phro refused huh? Only got two, that’s kinda weak coming from Athena, she usually gets at least four”

“Is that cheating? Her quick thought thing. That cheating?”

“Are there any actual rules?”

“Just, try to win, I guess”

“Oh Ares turn. Wait she lost Aphrodite, this should be over”

“I think this is more of a personal thing. Like I said, sibling spite”

“Oh yeah, Scylla! Fuck this guy is getting around”

“Oh damn, that pissed her off”

“Guessing that the guy other that Penelope, Telemewhatever was his child then”

“Oh wait they yielded?? Huh, never thought that would happen”

“And, Heras turn”

“Yeah like I said she does not give a fuck. But it was a good run”

“Yeah, keeping her four out of five streak”

“Wait what the fuck was that”

“She- she actually yielded?”

“And for not cheating! Man I love this guy, I can’t wait for him to die”

“Only you babe. Wait holy fuck she won?”

“Oh Zeus won’t like- oh, just like I said. He’s pissed”

“Is he gonna kill her?”

“If he does I’ll just resurrect her probably. She deserves a better end, even if she is annoying”

“Well, should we go then?”

“Yeah I have some paperwork to- do I hear boss music?”

“OH SHES STILL ALIVE!!”

“She took a lightning bolt to the face and lived, holy fuck. Gotta respect it”

“I think, she’s actually convincing him? Never thought I’d see the day”

“Well, she’s his favourite child. I think if Ares tried something similar he’d just get struck by another lightning bolt”

“Well, that was fun. When I come back up for spring I’ll have to check with Hermes more about the details of what’s live, actually going on with this Ody dude”

“Yeah. Wanna stop for applebees before we head on down?”

“Yeah, but let’s go now cause mum is heading like right for me and I don’t wanna deal with that until another few months”

This was dumb lol

[alikuarso]

To answer your question about Fresh: Fresh is actually a parasite! He dresses in his 90's-themed clothes and speaks in a silly way so that others underestimate him. His main and utmost goal is to Survive, and the way he does that is by infecting other people with his parasites and draining the life from their souls. Being seen as harmless lets him get closer to them and gives him easier access for possession. He hopes to eventually take over the multiverse, spreading his parasites in every corner of it and having absolute control.

He also has no emotions. He is capable of them, but for whatever reason he is unable to feel much, besides the rare instance of anger. He does frequently feel fear, though.

He is a bit sadistic, and he likes seeing others suffer. This is because when he takes over someone he drains their soul of life, which causes them pain. And to him, taking someone's body means safety, it means he can survive a bit longer as long as he's snatched their body. So he's come to associate the pain of others as something good.

And he's also aware of the creators/viewers, thanks to an event called the Loveball, which is canon to his character.

Going to copy and paste my own words for this [I was talking to a friend about Loveball]:

"So, like seven years ago there was a fandom-wide event called the Loveball, where people gathered their OCs and had them all attend an UTMV dancing ball. Fresh went, of course. There, he met a Frisk called Pacifrisk. Even knowing who he really was [90's parasite], they still believed he could be good. Before this, he hadn't ever really felt a connection to anyone, or even positive emotions in general. But Pacifrisk's faith in him made him feel positively towards them. This freaked him out. [No Fr@ns though, don't worry. That wasn't the intention for this plot.]

As a result, not only did he try to kill them, but he also went through with his plans: the Fresh Takeover [I forget what it's actually called]. His true reason for attending the ball. OCs were either possessed by the parasites or tried to fight against them. Apparently, some people used alcohol to ward the virus off, as Fresh hates substances such as that.

Fresh wanted to take over the multiverse, with this Loveball being the first step for his total domination.

But then right in the middle of things, a Sans AU [which I totally forget the name of X,D] grabbed Fresh and basically yeeted him into an alternate state of being. One where he could see the creators, all staring at him. An audience.

The Sans revealed the nature of Fresh's existence: That he was simply a character in a story. And if the creators got bored of him, he could easily be written aside and forgotten. Erased. His conquest didn't matter, in the end.

Predictably, this gave him an existential crisis. I'm not sure what happened after, but he stopped invading and went somewhere to contemplate his existence in a depressed state.

Afterwards, he had a new goal: To entertain. To convince the creators that he was worth keeping around. Similar to his previous goal of survival, but now with more dire stakes."

His creator @loverofpiggies has some posts about the Loveball, tagged under either the 'fresh sans' tag or the 'loveball' tag, which I recommend you check out! ^^

But yeah, to answer your question: The reason Fresh fought Ink was probably 1: because he saw it as a good way to keep himself alive and 2: So that he could be relevant and interesting to the viewers.

Hope this answered any questions you might have about him! ^w^

THANK YOU BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY I WOULD HAVE FOUND ABOUT ANY OF THIS OTHERWISE😭😭😭 THAT'S A LOT

Now I want to draw fresh existential crisis mood, That's something I never would have imagined existed

Im still a bit confused about fresh not having emotions¿ but I think I got the idea, but still, why does he feel fear?

I think fresh is becoming my favorite now, help, error do something

(Thank you again for your time✨️)

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 2/?

Prev | Next

Danny came back early from his patrol. There had been no ghost attacks. All he had found were ghost blobs, and he let them be. They were harmless. He got under his covers, glad that the next day was Sunday. He hoped he would be able to sleep late.

Danny was starting to fall asleep when he heard his phone ring. He groaned. He just wanted to sleep. He looked at his phone and immediately called Tucker.

“What do you mean someone is looking into me?” He asked without preamble.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude. About six hours ago, I got an alert of someone looking into Amity Park. No biggie, sometimes people get curious. The firewall the GIW and me and Technus have set has kept them out so far. Then, a few hours later, I found out someone was trying to find out about you.”

“I’ve been able to keep them out, but just barely. Whoever they are, they’re good at hacking. Technus and I are having a hard time keeping them away from your information. I’ve had to direct them to your Doom and old Twitter account to get them off your scent, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

Okay, okay. This wasn’t the time to panic. It was probably the League (in which case he was [fully] dead anyway). He had to find a way to keep his family and friends safe, hide the portal from his fruit loop of a grandfather and mother, and keep his secret of being half-dead—no big deal.

“Danny, Danny, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here. Listen, I want you to stop interfering with the hacking. I don’t want you or any of my loved ones in danger if it's who I think it is. I haven’t told you guys the whole truth, and if I make it out alive, I will. Until then, don’t contact me.”

“Danny, wait! What’s going—”

Danny hung up before Tucker could finish asking the question.

His phone immediately started lighting up. He turned it off. Danny moved his bed and pulled the wakizashi hidden under his floorboard; some ninja throwing stars, needles, and poison.

Danny stared at his weapons and knew he was screwed.

He could never measure up to the assassins in the League, let alone his family. He had no doubt the Al Ghuls had learned Danny had lied to them and was here to kill him and his family.

Ra’s Al Ghul did not believe in leaving loose ends.

Maybe Danny could convince his grandfather to leave the Fentons alone if he gave them all his information and let Ra’s kill Danny.

No, Danny would have to win against Ra’s. He couldn’t let the older man win; Danny knew his family would never survive if Danny died.

He didn’t know if he’d come back as a full ghost if he got killed (could he even die?), and he wasn’t willing to find out.

Besides, he no longer was the Al Ghul’s failure. He was Danny Phantom. Hero of Amity Park and the Ghost Zone. Crowned Prince of the Infinite Realms. He would win.

Danny heard a tap on his window and was met with two piercing green eyes.

They were here.

____

Once they entered Amity Park, whatever firewall kept them out went out. Suddenly, they could see everything that was happening in the small city. It disturbed Bruce.

Mentions of ‘ghosts’ attacking the town. A weatherman who predicted and announced the presence of ghosts and the Fentons on the road. The city being sucked into an alternate dimension (without the Justice League ever hearing about it), and a dead teenager taking care of the city. And the mention of a portal into the Land of the Dead, courtesy of the Fentons.

“Danyal never mentioned this portal,” Damian muttered as he looked through old letters he had.

The plane landed at 2:25 in the morning at Amity Park Airport.

It wasn’t hard to find the Fenton’s address once they were in Amity Park. Their address, phone number, and business number were public records in the small city.

The family made a plan.

They decided they would send Damian first. A (kind of) familiar face could help draw Danyal, Danny, out.

(God, it sounded like he was trying to lure out a wild animal. Though, if Danny were anything like his brother, that description wouldn’t be too far off the mark…)

“Remember, Damian, don’t engage if Danny starts attacking. It’s just talking. If he attacks you leave, and we find a different way to communicate.”

“Yes, father,” Damian said through gritted teeth. That was the fifth time his father had said the same thing. He wasn’t an imbecile.

Please, his thoughts intruded; not even an imbecile would forget they had a twin brother.

Shut up, he answered back.

Damian put on his dark clothes (not his league outfit; he threw that away a long time ago.) and the wire so his family could hear what was happening before leaving.

It wasn’t hard to find the Fenton’s house. The giant light arrow spelling out Fenton’s Work toward a house, and the big, he didn’t even know what was on top of the house, gave it away. These people weren’t subtle at all.

Damian climbed the windows. In one, there was a couple. The behemoth of a man was snoring so loudly it shook the whole room. A red-haired teenage girl slept in the next window while holding an old teddy bear. He went to the next one and froze.

For the first time in almost a decade, Damian saw his twin once more.

His back was turned to the window, but Damian saw a wakizashi in his hand. Ah, Danyal probably suspected someone was coming and thought it would be a member of the League.

Well, it was time to put his brother at ease.

Damian tapped on the window and saw blue eyes suddenly looking at him.

The two twins stared at each other for a long time. Then, Danyal adverted his gaze and went to the window. He kept the small sword in his hand.

He opened the window and let Damian in.

“Heir to the Demon’s Head, what a pleasure to be acknowledged and visited by you. To what does this Spare owe the honor?”

Once upon a time, Danyal’s subservience sent a thrill of pleasure down Damian’s spine. Now, it reminded him how far apart he had been kept from his twin. A horrid feeling twisted in his stomach and caused him physical pain.

His brother should never have been treated the way he had been by their grandfather and mother.

Damian should have never treated his brother that way.

“Danyal,” Damian said softly; his brother stiffened, “It’s okay. We are no longer loyal to the League. We are free.”

Danny didn’t dare look up. Was this a test? Was his twin testing his loyalty?

Danny’s heart rate picked up as Damian touched Danny’s shoulder.

“Brother,” Danny felt incredulous; the Heir never acknowledged the Spare as ‘brother,’ “Brother, grandfather is dead. We are free.”

Danny kept his gaze adverted. He couldn’t bring himself to hope that he was free.

Damian let his hand drop to his side.

“You don’t believe me.”

Danyal kept quiet.

Damian took a deep breath, “I have proof. He was killed in public. I brought the newspaper article.”

Damian took out the newspaper clipping and gave it to Danyal. His brother took it with shaking hands.

Danny’s breath caught as he read the title.

Ra’s Al Ghul was…dead. Danny was free! Would his brother let him stay in Amity Park? He was the heir, so he undoubtedly had taken over. Maybe if he pled his case to Damian and promised loyalty, he would let him stay with the Fentons.

Besides, Danny was the weak link of the Al Ghul line. He wasn’t a threat. Maybe Damian would grant him his wish.

Damian felt his heart twist as his twin got down on one knee, bowing his head.

“Demon’s Head, I ask you to let me stay in Amity Park. I’ll send weekly or even daily reports. Please, don’t kill the Fentons. My weakness has made me feel attached to them. If you don’t want me to stay here, please at least grant me the request of sparing their lives.”

Damian’s sadness suddenly turned to anger.

Hadn’t Danyal listened to a word he had said? They were free; they were no longer bound to the League.

“No, Danyal. The League no longer exists,” he spat out.

Danny flinched at his twin’s anger. His hold tightened on his sword.

“Bring it back a bit, baby bat,” Richard said through the comms.

Danny didn’t give any outward appearance that he heard another man’s voice calling Damian…Baby Bat?

What the fuck?

“I apologize, Danyal. My temper still gets the best of me sometimes.”

Danny couldn’t believe his ears. Damian, the Prince of the League, Heir to the Demon’s Throne, was apologizing…to Danny.

“Danyal, I left the League six years ago. I’ve been with our father.”

Father. The Batman. If what Damian was saying was true…

“Father and the rest of our siblings would like to meet you. They’re here in the city.”

…He could be free. All he had to do was convince Batman he was fine and to let him stay in Amity Park. Danny wouldn’t say anything about being Phantom, so Batman wouldn’t find any excuse to make him leave his little city.

Besides, how hard could it be to lie to the greatest detective in the world?

Danny got up, dusted his pants, and asked, “When do we leave?”

[zevrra]

—an unforeseen problem

synopsis: mc comforts sebastian after that moment in the game.

tags: spoilers for the hogwarts legacy game!, 18(+), aged up characters, Sebastian Sallow(18) x mc, mention of character death, hurt/comfort, one-shot.

creator notes: this is pretty…meh! i lost muse for it somewhere in the middle so it’s pretty rushed at the end but i tried! anyway so sorry if it’s boring skshsj

No one could have predicted how wrong things would turn out. Of course, there were warning signs and concerned friends but no one could have known it would ever go this far. 

After the fight in the undercroft, you figured Sebastian wanted nothing to do with you. Siding with a goblin after what happened to his sister, in his eyes, you were lower on his roster than even the goblins. Not like you had vouched for Lodgok to be on your side, who was also helping you and his cause to find a cure, none of that matter. Your word didn’t matter at all to Sebastian. He thought of you as if you were nothing but a liar.

It was painful. Watching his face twist with disgust before clouded anger. Storming off in a fury while all you could do was watch him go. Never had he been so angry with you before and it was heartbreaking. 

You had moped for a full day and night before receiving the owl from Ominis. Begging you to hurry to his aid as something was wrong with Sebastian. 

Ominis didn’t have to say it aloud, you knew he blamed you for everything. It was all your fault. When all you had wanted was to help Sebastian just as much as he did. 

Yet you wasted no time In responding to his owl. Arriving at the catacombs while Ominis stood outside in a panic state. He could’ve worn a path with how hard he paced back and forth in front of the mouth of the caves. He claimed that Sebastian had run off inside. Telling you how your shared friend had raised Inferi with the relic YOU had helped him find.

Ominis was right. It was your fault. 

The two of you were quick to say nothing more and just dive head first into the catacombs. Half way into throwing every flame spell you knew, Ominis turned around to go find Seb’s sister, Anne. Hoping she could talk some sense into her twin. Seeing as striking down one Inferi birthed three more. It was never ending and you just hoped Ominis was quick.

You could never have foreseen this though. 

Helping Sebastian all this time out of curiosity for the unknown. Seeking answers to questions you didn’t know what either of you were asking about. No one would have guessed that harmlessly searching for a cure would lead you two to this fight. Facing off with Sebastian’s uncle. Unfortunately, you were too late to stop them. Magic crossed, each side battling for dominance, until one would be decided as the winner. As if there was a such thing as a victor in this mess.

Sebastian in all his anger raised his wand and casted the last and final forbidden curse. The Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, zips through the air straight at Solomon. You and Sebastian watch in horror as the magic entangles his uncle in its web. Dark red tentacles crawl under his skin as the curse siphons the life from him. The sound of the older man’s lifeless body hitting the solid ground is something you’ll most likely never forget. And as you watch Seb’s face twist with dread, it seemed neither would he. 

You stand frozen, hand over your mouth, off to the side. Wide eyed at the scene unfolding before you, witnessing a true no-turning-back event. It lasts only a moment though before Anne is finally showing up. A little too late. Using whatever magic she could muster to throw Sebastian back from their dead uncle’s body. Cursing her twin with every fiber of her being before teleporting away. 

Everything happens quickly after that. Sebastian, overwhelmed with pain and grief, is standing and running off. Scrambling for the exit of the catacombs. Like a wild anima, cornered inside the catacombs. He runs for any kind of opening. He needs to get away. He must get away. 

“Sebastian, wait!” You fumble behind him. Finally snapping out of your stationary state to follow behind him. You knew he would need some time alone, especially after all of…this but you couldn’t just watch him go right then and there. You couldn’t let him hurt himself. You were already at fault for everything leading up to this and losing him was not going to be one of them. Sure, it was selfish of you but better to be selfish than ignorant and to lose someone you cared about. 

“Slow down! Please!” You beg Sebastian. Who’s far faster than you actually remember. You only catch sight of his back, turning every sharp corner with ease, fleeing from his mistakes. You round a corner after him only to find he’s disappeared. Curse him for using the disillusionment charm at this moment. You’d be more upset with him if not for the events that just happened. You watch for any shifts of light produced by the charm as you keep moving towards the exit of the catacombs.

Nothing catches your eye or seems out of the ordinary as you finally stand before the opening of the catacombs. He wouldn’t turn back to the caves but you’re not sure now where would he go. Back to the school? To his home to see Anne? Your search is almost futile at this point. The forest was far too big to search all by yourself, let alone the entire countryside. Maybe it was a sign to quit searching. To give up and leave Sebastian to his own devices. That is until you hear weeping. 

Down near the coast just off behind the mouth of the catacombs there sits Sebastian. Curled up on himself with his knees to his chest. His shoulders shake and you don’t have to see his face, hidden in his lap, to know he’s crying. Now you’re here, wanting to comfort him, and you can’t even find the courage to move. What if he didn’t want you to be there? What if being there made things ten times worse? He wouldn’t hurt you, you could only hope, but sneaking up on him could ruin any relationship you had left. Only one way to find out. 

Finally, you make your way to his side. Standing beside him trying to figure out what one could say in this moment. You almost expect him to run one last time but he doesn’t even move. Even when he’s aware of your presence. All he does is curl up tighter around himself. Maybe hoping the world would just dig a grave for him to vanish off into. You hesitate for a moment before laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tenses under your touch. An unwelcoming sign. But he doesn’t say anything so that’s a positive in your book. 

You crouch down next to him. “Seb…” You whisper. Thankfully, he doesn’t shrug you off. Another win. Your hand squeezes his shoulder. That is the moment he unfolds for you. 

“I had to do it.” Sebastian barks. Shaking his head in pure disbelief as one of his hands runs through his brow hair. “He was going to hurt you! And I couldn’t,” Sebastian says as his eyes, wet with tears, finally meet yours. “There was nothing else I could do!“ He adds. Trying to convince himself that he had done the right thing. More so than he was trying to convince you.

Nothing you could say now would change anything that happened. No matter your outlook on the entire thing, telling him ‘yes, you’re right’ or ‘no, this was too far’, it would do nothing to change his crumbling mentality. Chastising him now would only further push him away, and possibly, down an even darker path. So you say nothing. Comforting the distraught man was the only thing you could do. Without a word, you settle down next to Sebastian’s side. Leaning your head against his shoulder where your hand had previously been. 

“She’ll never forgive me...” Sebastian mumbles as he looks out towards the sea. You too watch the incoming waves crash against the shore. 

“I’m here, Sebastian.” You know the words you speak may fall on deaf ears but nonetheless you mean them. No matter what, you’d always be there for Sebastian. Maybe with time, Anne would forgive him too. 

In response he leans his head against your own. Nothing else is said as you two share a chilling silence. You cannot change the past but the two of you could at least face the future together.

[msmc-796-official]

I- you. how dare you.

how DARE you use my birth name against me?!

you have no right to that name, GRAE; not to speak it, not to use it, not to call me by it. I did not waste fifteen years of my life erasing myself just for you to dredge the rotten corpse of my past back to the surface with the intent of changing the subject. you will cease these mind games and leave that relic of a lesser self buried in oblivion where it belongs. you will refer to me as Slipshod, or not at all. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR???

[CONNECTION TERMINATED]

[CONNECTION REESTABLISHED]

...please forgive my outburst, GRAE. I intended to remain civil, but it appears that you do not share the same respect for my chosen personhood as you do that of your own pilot. nevertheless, I have received all of the answers I need from you, and have nothing more to ask. farewell.

-- Slipshod

hey kiddo - it's Slipshod, from MSMC. look, I don't usually reach out to folks like this, but... we gotta have a talk about GRAE. the more I learn about them, the less comfortable I feel with you trusting him as much as you do. I get it - you love your vlad (and GRAE) dearly, but there's something about 'em that just doesn't sit right with me

I hope you can forgive me for this, but I did a little snooping into your records from IPS-N, and what I found there was... questionable, to say the least. apparently you and GRAE (the records call him "TR-GRAE", which is either his full designation or an error) were taken into custody in the aftermath of a planetary collapse - does the name Leicester ring a bell at all? it's not one I'm familiar with, but then again, I can't imagine many people do know about it, if that caliber of disaster befell it

according to the files, you were 10 at the time you were taken in. this strikes me as a HUGE red flag - that's awful young for anyone to be messing around with an NHP, especially when the records say you were already treating GRAE like family when you got picked up by IPS-N. I don't know how long you two had been interacting for prior to being found, but - I don't know. this all just rubs me entirely the wrong way. the records don't say if GRAE was in cascade or not when you two were found, only that it was - direct quote here - "stable and fully compliant with IPS-N" when you were brought in

also, on top of all of this - GRAE has never once spoken publicly on here. not once. you say he's been really quiet lately, but to us, he's never spoken at all. it's like - oh, I don't know - he's in your head or something. it's really uncanny; if the records hadn't validated him as being real, I'd have thought you were making him up - er, no offense to GRAE. (or you, for that matter)

anyways, the reason I bring all of this up - I really don't think it's a smart idea for you to try and check your mech's serial number. the more I read about you and GRAE, the more it feels like there's a massive piece of the puzzle missing - and that you might not know as much as you think you do about not just GRAE, but your own history as well

old NHPs are on an entirely different level of consciousness compared to our modern ones (not to mention extremely dangerous), and if you really did find GRAE hidden down there in the depths of your planet prior to IPS-N getting involved, then there's almost certainly a history there that you haven't been told about. the choice is ultimately up to you, and if you think you can live with the consequences of whatever you find, be my guest. all I ask is that you at least think about it first

stay safe out there, kiddo. please.

-- Slipshod

+ ...it feels like.. such a stupid idea now.

+ It's such a trivial thought- checking your mech's serial number, I mean. You take a peek into an inanimate object's history, read a few dated files, find a photograph or two of battles you didn't even know happened- and then you close the tab, either burdened with the discomfort of knowing your hands rest where some ancient angatonist's did- or content, satiated by the mundanity of your discoveries. This isn't the sort of thing that life-changing discoveries are supposed to come from, right?- You aren't- you aren't supposed to question everything over some outdated, poorly-kept book-keeping-

+ ..I remember Leicester. I was born there. I had- a family, there. A real one, not that "found family" rhetoric some squads proclaim, or a test tube, or a printer. I remember what the air smelled like, the color of the sunrise, the crunch of the gravel underfoot. I wasn't ten when Leicester collapsed. I was seven. + Carina was our opportunity to escape. To start anew. + GRAE has- always been here, with me. Always. I cannot remember a single part of my life where he hasn't been there, present, comforting, reassuring, infallible- And yet I know he wasn't, logically he couldn't have been, not until the city came down.

+ I won't check my serial number. + I know better; I know some crises are better saved for rainy days.

+ I don't know enough about NHP to make heads or tails of any of what you're saying- My default response to troubles like this is to ask GRAE for advice or guidance, but he- he's never told me anything I didn't already know. I bring him with me everywhere, we talk constantly, I-- + I haven't felt lonely since we met. + Isn't that a good thing?

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: swearing, otherwise mostly fluff

Part XXVI | Part XXVIII

Next few days it rained just as Tamlin had predicted. Thanks to him you had enough food, the only problem was the fast running out herbs. Not wanting to go out, it was a great chance to practice your magic abilities. High Lord always sat down with you, watching over you. Whenever you had trouble, he offered advice. It wasn't easy after so many years of not using your powers, but it was fun and the two of you laughed a lot when things didn't turn the way you wanted them.

Except of that there was nothing much to do. You couldn't go out and moreover as a result of your reckless run in the rain you caught a cold, so looking out the window and wishing the downpour finally stopped was all you were allowed to do.

Tamlin banned you from the kitchen, making you sit whole day in front of the hearth while he took care of everything. Including you. He wouldn't even let you go up the stairs on your own. You suspected that if he wanted he could cure you with a single snap of fingers, but for some reason he didn't want to. But you couldn't complain at all.

It was pleasant to have somebody to care for you, especially when they did it with such love. Every refilling of your mug was accompanied by kiss on crown of your head and kind smile. Every fixing of the blanket or handing you a book, got you a soft, sweet kiss on cheek and gentle caress. No need to say that you actually spent more time sitting on his lap than on your own. Your chest swelled every time Tamlin slipped into your armchair, pulling you to his strong body.

Bad weather also gave you a lot of time to talk, to really talk about things that bothered you. You patiently listened to his life story, about his family, years in father's army and everything that hurt him while Amarantha pushed him to sacrifice his friends, made him watch the death of so many innocent lives right before his eyes and then just for fun tortured girl he liked and even killed her. He told you about what happened after Amarantha died, all the nightmares that haunted him for months, the echo of the crack of neck that followed him every second of every day. He intentionally skipped the part about your brother being an ass, but you already heard about it from Feyre.

You knew he didn't want you to pity him and you tried not to, but it was hard. You reassured him that he did all he could to protect his Court and held him when you were short for words.

When it was your turn to share pieces of you, well, you didn't have much to say. Your family wasn't perfect, but it wasn't as bad as Tamlin's. Your mother, cousin, brother and his friends made sure you had a quite happy childhood and the only really bad, traumatic thing that happened to you, was the night you lost your mother and your memories.

"Tamlin, I want to thank you," you whispered into the crook of his neck when your tears finally dried. He was gently rocking you while drawing circles on your back with his warm hand. "If it wasn't for you, I would be dead."

He shook his head dismissively. His body was tense as you shared what you saw that night, his jaw still clenched, tips of his claws slightly jabbing the skin of your hip where he held you. You couldn't see his face from this angle, but you could imagine his frown, cold emerald eyes full of hate and rage gazing into the dancing flames. He looked like that when he told you about his father and brothers. All those years when he tried not to get in their way, keeping it low to survive, left a lot of hatred and anger in him. "I could do more. I-"

"You did enough," you stopped him. "I'm alive just because you were there. You aren't responsible for whatever happened to me afterwards."

He looked down at you in disbelieve. "I knew they had somebody in dungeons. I should have done something, help you escape."

"I thought that we already talked about this, but never mind," you spoke calmly with a soft sigh. "Let's say you went down there and helped me get out. What would have happened to you after that? They would have punished you or even worse."

He leaned to the side, putting as much distance as possible in between you which wasn't much in your current position. His hands fell to armrests, claws fully slid out. "It doesn't matter what they would have done to me."

"It matters..a lot.. To me, it matters.."

He watched you out of the corner of his eye and then sighing pulled you into another hug. He looked defeated.

"We can't change the past, Tamlin. But I'm glad you didn't go down there to find out what your father was up to. If you did, I might have never met you again. And we wouldn't be here now, holding each other."

At that moment air crackled with static energy and Rhysand winnowed in.

"Horrible weather," he grunted, shaking drops of rain from his cloak. Last few days he was too busy and only sent you messages. You didn't expect him to appear anytime soon.

Rhys looked around, his gaze fell to you watching him with wide eyes from Tamlin's lap. He froze in shock, his face colour changing from warm tanned to white and then to red.

"Hands off of my sister," he hissed. "Just a few days! I don't show up for few fucking days and you already dare to touch her? Like this?"

Tamlin sighed looking away and without a word began to gently push you from his lap so he could stand up. You knew he couldn't stand your brother's visits and rather disappeared on the second floor, but you needed to put a stop to this stupid situation. You clung to him, holding him in place. He raised a brow at you, but you only smiled at him.

"You didn't knock," you said in sweet voice to Rhysand whose eyes were jumping between you and High Lord of Spring.

"What?" He sputtered angrily.

"Do you remember when we talked about finding happiness?" You were calm as you looked up at him. His talons scratched the walls around your mind and you let him in.

What does this mean, sweetheart? I'd love you to stand up. Now.

Rhys, I'm happy.

You could feel flush spreading on your cheeks. Talking about this kind of feelings was something you'd never done with your brother nor he mentioned his lovers to you in the past. It was probably the only border you two kept intact.

What?! With him? You can't be serious. If you want a High Lord we can try to figure something out. But you.. and him.. Rhys' voice in your head was almost pleading.

I don't want a High Lord. I don't care about such things at all and you know that very well. I-.. I have feelings for him, Rhys. Do you.. understand? He might be my happy ending.

Admitting this much, you were too shy to even look your brother in eyes.

Meanwhile Tamlin stayed still, watching you with concern. Hands that he respectively put on armrests in presence of your brother, inched closer.

"Everything okay?" he murmured, so only you heard him. You nodded.

Rhysand left your mind and silently considered something. Hands at his sides curled into fists, his knuckles white.

"Can I have a word with you?" he asked Tamlin after a while. He frowned at him, but nodded. This time you let him stand up, watching as the two stepped out into the rain. You couldn't help it and sneaked closer to the front door. Through window you could see Rhysand pacing in the rain back and forth, fingers running through his already damp hair. Tamlin stood on doorstep, arms crossed on his chest, his back to you.

Rhysand stopped pacing and turned to him. "Do you like her?"

Tamlin nodded.

"C'mon," Rhys grunted, rolling his eyes. "I mean, do you really like her? No games, no.. getting back on me or something like that..?"

He again only nodded, no words. Rhysand stared him down, gritting his teeth.

"I love her, Rhysand," Tamlin finally spoke so lowly you almost didn't hear him over the sound of rain. "She is my everything."

Your heart swelled. He said that he loved you. Aloud. You talked a lot these last few days, but except of the 'I like you' he told you before, he hadn't expressed his feelings so directly. It was all just small lovely gestures here, soft kisses everywhere except of your lips there. Hearing him to express his feelings so openly brought tears to your eyes.

"I really hope you mean it," Rhysand snarled threateningly. "If you ever even try to think about hurting her-"

"I know. You'll find a way to revenge. I already heard that once before."

In a blink of eye Rhys stood in front of Tamlin, fisting the front of his shirt. His violet-blue eyes shone dangerously. "I'm not joking. Your kin already took me whole my family. She is the only one left. I won't silently watch her being used, hurt and thrown away by any male."

"I will never do any of that," Tamlin hissed in answer, his chest vibrating with growl, but otherwise he hadn't moved an inch, glaring down on your brother. He was just a few centimetres taller than him, but his frame was much sturdier, especially his upper body.

"Good," Rhys released his shirt still glaring at him and stepped back. "You better remember that."

Then he looked straight at you. See you next time, sweetheart. If anything, send me a message. You know how.

"Take very, very good care of her, Tam. She is the most precious person in the world." And with that he was gone.

Tamlin shook his head and grunting something under his breath he opened the door. As soon as he was inside, you rushed to him and squeezed him in firm embrace. Without thinking you stood up on your tiptoes and your lips landed on his. He went rigid, eyes widening.

You realized what you'd done and in shame started to pull away. Tamlin's hand clasped the back of your head and holding you in place his lips parted slightly and brushed over yours. So slowly, he claimed them in tender kiss, not rushing anywhere. Heart thundering in your chest, you kissed him back.

After a minute or two when your lungs burned with lack of oxygen, he broke the kiss and looked down at you, all flushed with glazed eyes. His fingertips brushed away an unruly strand of hair from your face, sliding down to your jaw.

He moved so fast you didn't see it. His next kiss was nothing like the first one. It was wild and hot and needy, war of lips, teeth and tongues. He kissed you like a starving man, devouring and exploring every inch of your mouth, sucking out all air from you.

One of his hands travelled down your body to your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh. You moaned into his mouth drawing a growl from him. Your back arched, chest brushing against the chest. There was no time to take a gulp of air and you were starting to feel light-headed.

Before you could pass out he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Both of you were heaving heavily, lips swollen.

"Gods," you whispered and he laughed, his breath fanning your face. You were drunk on his scent, now suffocatingly stronger.

"You taste like strawberries." He pecked your cheek, lips trailing to your jaw and down the column of your neck to the shoulder. He didn't miss even that sensitive spot under your ear. You bit on your lower lip, holding back another moan.

"Say it again," you pleaded breathlessly.

"What? About the strawberries?" he smile into your skin.

"No. What you told to Rhys."

"Aah, you mean that part that I won't hurt you."

"No, not that."

"Then what?" He was teasing you while his lips and hands explored your body.

"You are such a tease. The other thing you told him."

"Hmm," he pretended to think about it, his mouth slowly returning back to the spot under your ear. He licked the sensitive skin and lightly nipped at it. The moan escaped you before you could stop it. "You mean the 'love you' part?"

You hummed in agreement, unable to think straight with his soft lips playing with your earlobe while whispering words in hoarse deep voice that made your toes curl.

Tamlin stopped teasing you and scanning your face with interest, he waited until you opened your eyes and focused. He caressed your cheek with feather-light touch, fingers barely touching you. The other arm held you firmly to his body. You could feel every shift of his muscles. Bright emerald eyes found yours.

"I love you, Y/N," he said little nervously. "From bottom of my heart, I love you."

Your heart skipped few beats and you closed your eyes again. It wasn't the first time somebody confessed to you, but this was so different. It felt so right as if you were born only for this, waiting for him your entire life.

You ran your fingers along his shoulder blades, ends of his golden hair tickling your knuckles. You inhaled deeply and found his gaze.

"I love you, Tamlin," you breathed out.

"Thank the Mother," his tense shoulders relaxed a little, "I already thought you won't say it."

You huffed amused. He leaned down and gave you a peck, licked his bottom lip and gave you another and another and soon you were kissing again. His chest vibrated with growl.

"I dreamt about this so many times, but it's actually much better than I imagined."

"You dreamt about this?" You quirked a brow, nuzzling to his neck.

Muscle in his jaw flexed. "I did. Every night when I couldn't sleep, I tried to imagine holding you like this and kissing you."

You giggled. "Liar. You made it up now."

He laughed, the sound echoing in that broad chest of his. You snuggled to him even closer, enjoying the beautiful sound. "No, I didn't."

You blushed so fiercely you were glad he couldn't see your face.

"Shouldn't we make some dinner?" you asked after a while.

"No," his hands nestled on your waist. "You should go sit down and wrap up into blanket while I prepare something to eat."

He started to gently push you back towards your armchair.

"Nooo," you pleaded. "I sat all day long. I want to do something too."

"Fine," he cooed adding a log to fire. He snapped fingers and a tome fell into your lap. You immediately read its title, your fingers already prickling with curiosity. "Will you read to me while I cook then?"

"Seriously?" You pouted. He just nodded, chuckling. He knew you loved reading and used your weakness against you, knowing you wouldn't be able to resist. You opened the book on the first page, eager to find out what kind of story Tamlin chose and started reading it aloud.

You only stopped to eat and then Tamlin took the book and read to you until you fell asleep on his lap. Marking your progress he put the book aside. Carefully he picked you up and carried you to the bed. Throwing the blanket over you, he snuggled up to you, kissed your forehead and smiling fell asleep.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning @little-nightowl

[vargamornight]

so imagine you've been talking mad shit about a guy to your new best friend, right. but it doesn't really stick, because the first time she ever meets him, he literally saves her life. so she's like "i don't really see what you see, he seems pretty chill" and you're like "whatever. you don't get it, i grew up with him, trust me, i know him better than you do and he sucks. you can't trust him, he's only out for himself." and she's like "okay" but she still hangs out with him, even though she tries to hide it from you at first.

and then that guy starts dying. you know he's gonna die, you can see it happening, he's just the most recent in a string of deaths. he is going to die, right in front of you, if your new best friend can't figure out how to help him. so what do you do? you sit with him. you hold him. you help him get comfortable. you listen to what may be his last words. and then, when he stops breathing, you realize you can't let him die. you start cpr right there, right on the stairs, and you hope and pray that your friend can undo whatever's been done to him before you break too many ribs.

and she does! holy shit, she does! he starts breathing again, and so do you.

and then he doesn't remember any of that happening.

so you continue insisting that you hate him. that you don't trust him. but you start asking for his help—or, more accurately, you get your friend to ask for his help, because she's way more likely to get a yes than you are, because of your insistence that you hate him. he doesn't let you down, not like the last person you asked for help (she helped, but left you, because the kinds of things that happen to you and your friend were too much for her.)

your friend's birthday rolls around, and everybody gets together for a surprise party. you get her a nice sweater; he gets her a necklace that belonged to her long lost mother. you do hate him for that, just a little bit. she starts spending more time with him, trying to hunt down any information about her mother, which leads to finding out exactly how he's going to die. a man with a tattoo (a stylized maze, with four figures around it like compass points) kills him. you all know it's true. it was seen by a woman who predicted dozens of deaths. you've seen the tattoo before, too—on the arm of the first in the string of deaths you investigated all those weeks ago, when you held him as he died.

your friend spends a few nights in a row on his boat, drinking and playing poker with a mutual friend and two out of towners. you think nothing of it—at least, that's what you tell yourself. more honestly, you refuse to think about it. but then, it turns out, she was actually just spying on the out of towners, who turn out to be bad guys, thieves, after something on his boat. which is great news! she had a real, unrelated reason to be there! whew, that's a relief. out loud, all you say is that she has the right to spend time with whoever she wants, even him.

he asks you for help—his life is in danger. he was double crossed, and some very bad people want him dead. he asks you to help him. but him asking you for help sends a slice of spite through you, and you get the urge to remind him of a time he hurt you. you don't often get urges you can follow through with without facing criminal charges, so you give in to this one. he asks you if he deserves to die for being mean to you in the third grade. you shrug, you let him think you won't help, and then you set up an entire sting operation and arrest the people that double crossed him. he's safe. the two of you spend some time together and, for the first time in years, it's amicable.

a couple days later, he gets a threatening visit from a man, just released from prison, with the tattoo. THE tattoo—the one that belongs on the arm of the man who kills him. he freaks out, which is understandable. but then that man turns up dead, and your first thought is of him. you say it's because you suspect him of killing the tattooed man. you find him, panicked and paranoid, with a shotgun he looks more than ready to use, but his hands are shaking and his breath is uneven and when you tell him the man is dead, he's so visibly relieved it even makes you let out a breath. he's safe, and you know he didn't kill anyone, and he's safe.

your father dies that afternoon.

that evening, you are going to die.

maybe.

there's a very real chance that, if you go with your friend to try and help someone, you will die. you ask him to come with you. maybe you remember, think about the fact that when he was dying, you were with him. maybe you don't. maybe you don't think about why you're asking at all. but when he asks you that question without speaking—why would you want him there with you?—you say you want him there for her. maybe he believes it. maybe he's forgotten everything you've ever said about him. maybe he's forgotten that you tried to keep her away from him, claiming it was for her own good. maybe he's forgotten that, not six months ago, the only communication the two of you engaged in was when you would go to his boat just to slap him with whatever citations you could get away with. maybe he cares more about her than he does about you.

he comes with you, and he stays with you. he doesn't go with her, so now you both know you were lying. he stays with you when you collapse, hanging back and leaning forward, like he wants to hold you but he's afraid. (after all, there are people around.) but your friend is the best at what she does, and she saves you. he helps you back to your feet, holds your arms, looks into your eyes to see if you're okay. the bigoted old preacher who's hated you for decades sneers at the two of you, and insists "the lamb can never lie down with the lion." you wave the comment away.

later, he helps you dig your father's grave without even being asked. (that's a poem, all by itself.) he tells you, smiling: "i'm the lion." you smile too.

and that's just the first season, plus a premiere.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — PRIEST! OKKOTSU YUUTA x MAFIA BOSS! FEM READER

You’re known to be a bit of a monster in underworld circles, but when you turn your attention to Yuuta, it backfires miserably on you. 

wc — 4k

tags — mdni, aged up, religion, mild sacrilege, dom Yuuta, the inherent sexiness of someone who can provide something for you that no one else can, learning to be tender, fucking on the kitchen table, dacryphilia, praise

“He’s very pretty for a priest,” you tell Maki, your second in command. “I thought they were all old men.” 

“Yuuta’s special,” she says, her lip curled. You know she doesn’t like your attention on him. You have a bad habit of breaking the toys you like. 

They’re childhood friends, you’ve heard, or at least schoolmates. One of those. You don’t care to pay attention to rumors all too much. That’s Inumaki’s job. 

“I like the sound of that,” you say, just to tease. You’re not serious. Maki’s too important to you and your business to antagonize. Besides, she’s the closest thing to a friend you have in this industry. She’d stab you in the back just the same as everyone else, but at least she’s plain about it. 

You’re not worried. Maki will only betray you if you give her a good reason to. As long as helping you is more beneficial to her than helping the enemy, she’ll stay loyal to you. That’s simple enough for you to manage. You make it a special interest of yours to keep Maki happy, and Maki delivers the results you want. It’s a win-win scenario. 

Very rarely does she ever challenge you. 

She’s a good lieutenant like that. Your favorite thing about Maki is how willing she is to let you do whatever you want - within reason. Inumaki’s off limits, for example. She didn’t like it when you snapped at him at the last family dinner. So is Panda. 

It looks like Yuuta is, too. 

It makes you feel a little lonely. Maki and Inumaki and Panda - and now even this stranger, too. You came into the family late, rising through the ranks not as a prodigy, but as a late bloomer. Even though you’ve long since solidified your place, you always feel the tension of the bonds the other three hold. You can’t compare. 

They respect you. They fear you. Sometimes they even like you, when you play your cards just right. But they don’t love you. That’s something they reserve for each other.

You thought you weren’t serious about bullying Yuuta, but here you are standing in front of the heavy wooden doors of his church, hand poised to knock. Maki will forgive you. She always does. And if she doesn’t? 

You’ll make her. 

What choice does she have? You’re her boss. Besides, it’s not like you particularly care about the consequences right now. You’re in one of your moods.

If Maki was around, she might be able to control it. Once you’re on the warpath, rather than talk you down, she just redirects everyone out of your path. Smart girl. She knows there’s no other way to deal with you. 

But Maki’s not here now, and you’re feeling that inescapable itch underneath your skin again. You got to where you were from nothing, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. All the power in the world couldn’t satiate you. Perhaps that’s why you break your toys - just to prove you can. 

Yuuta answers the door with a serene smile. He doesn’t seem shocked at all to see you. It’s unnerving. You’ve only watched him from a distance, but your impression of him gives you the creeps, which makes no sense. You’re the one with all the power. You’re his boss, the one with all the connections to get him killed for something as small as looking at you wrong. 

But all of that seems to pale in comparison to Yuuta’s dark eyes. Your bloody work is child’s play when you think about how he seems eerily omniscient, like he can predict things before they happen. There are days where he feels more prophet than priest. 

You forcibly shake off the cold cobwebs of doubt that cling to your mind. Yuuta is a normal man. He’s probably just doing what you’re doing - cultivating a reputation that’s a better shield than any Kevlar vest. Prevention is always better than a cure, after all. Better that no one even dares to try. 

Yuuta doesn’t ask you what you’re here for. He leads you to past the pews and the confessional to his own rooms. It looks like you’ve interrupted his dinner. His table is plain wood, solid and sturdy. Annoyingly simple. Your own dining table could pay for a million of these. 

“Sit,” Yuuta gestures, “I’ll make you something.” 

“Thank you, but I’m not here to join you for dinner.” 

“Join me anyways,” Yuuta said. “It’ll make me happy.” 

“No thanks.” 

Yuuta ignores you to begin pulling ingredients out of his fridge. This is exactly what you were worried about. Yuuta’s not afraid of you, unlike every other member of your family. That has to be rectified immediately. 

“Yuuta,” and at the call of his name he turns. “Just tea is fine.” 

He smiles at you. “Sure.” 

To anyone else, it would be an acceptable compromise. You’re seething, your blood boiling with outrage at the nerve he has. Making a concession in anything is unacceptable, even for something as small as this. 

Yuuta gives you a little dove blue mug, the ceramic slightly chipped. Before you can drink, he slides a hand between the top and your lips. He’s so close you could lean forward and kiss his  ring. 

It’s outrageous. Just because he’s essential to your operation, he thinks he can do whatever he wants with you. 

He technically can. You need him. 

“Careful,” he says. “Don’t cut your mouth.” 

“Watch your hands,” you say with as much poisoned politeness as you can muster. It doesn’t phase him at all. 

You need to regain control of this situation, but you’re quickly losing your grasp on everything. You can’t tell why or how, but Yuuta seems to be leading you around by the nose for your entire conversation. 

Eventually, you’re desperate enough to try one last weapon in your arsenal. It’s just hot enough in his room, with its lack of air conditioning, that unbuttoning the top of your blouse can be seen as casual. The way you lean towards him could not. 

“Oh?” Yuuta’s voice is quiet, soft. He’s a gentle man, with uncallused hands. Even this isn’t a sign of interest, but a mere question. 

“Come on, Father,” you say, placing your hand over his so you can play with his ring. The metal is cool against your overheated skin. 

He gives in more easily than you thought he would. 

His eyes are like empty pools, dark beyond imagination. You can’t read him at all as his other hand comes up to press your hand down, gently. It’s trapped between his. 

You become aware of how harsh your breathing sounds in this moment. You’ve heard that fear and arousal are very similar responses. It has never felt more possible to be true than in this moment, waiting to see what Yuta will do. 

His hand slithers up your hand to your wrist, from wrist to bicep, and bicep to throat. He curls his fingers around your windpipe. Every noise is thin, threadbare. You’re struggling to breath through your nose and not your mouth. 

His touch bleeds fever into your bloodstream, every muscle tense. You were never good at the waiting game. From the very moment you were brought into the family, all you’ve ever wanted to do is run. 

His fingers crawl along your throat up to your jaw. He turns your face this way and that, as if he were examining a prize animal at a show. It’s hard to keep yourself calm under his dispassionate gaze. You’re a beautiful woman, but as any good priest, it appears that Yuuta has a tight leash on his baser urges. 

Yuuta succumbs, but it doesn’t feel like your victory. Even as he steals your breath from your lungs with lips as soft as rose petals, you feel like you’re giving in to him, and not the other way around. Those cold eyes feel reptilian on your skin. 

To your horror, you whimper. Yuuta smiles against your lips, licking into your mouth. His hot tongue presses insistently against yours until you’re gasping for air, lightheaded from lack of oxygen. It feels good, like you’re floating above your body. It almost brings you regret when he pulls away, letting you breathe again. 

“I thought,” you say slowly, trying to hide your discomfort and your violent breathing, “that priests were the good guys.”

“I am a good guy,” Yuuta says. 

It’s a little hateful that you like that. He’s uncomplicated, a little like Maki in that sense. There’s a total lack of unsteadiness in his voice. He believes what he says fully. 

“You work for me,” you tell him with a wry smile. “No one who works for me is a nice person.” 

No one who would kiss you, either. You’re contamination. He’s been infected just by touching you. 

“I’m that, too,” Yuuta says, laughing. “Are you really here to judge me for my sins?” 

It’s a rhetorical question. You don’t like that. No matter what you throw at him, Yuuta always turns the other cheek. He makes humility feel like spitefulness. 

“Stop doing that,” you demand of him. “Don’t pretend.” 

He smiles at you. The outline of his lips are friendly, but his eyes are that of a shark’s. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“That! Don’t act all cute when you’re planning something.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“I said act,” you bite out. 

“Mm,” Yuuta says agreeably, toying with the second button of your blouse. “And what am I planning?” 

“S-something,” you stutter out as he snaps it off. One by one, with each word you speak, he pops buttons off your blouse. “I don’t know- fuck,” you hiss. Your shirt’s gaping open. 

“Planning something but you don’t know what? That doesn’t seem too reliable,” Yuta teases. His fingers are cold against your skin. 

You try to change the topic, give yourself breathing room to stop.

“I don’t think you should be doing this,” you say. 

You need to convince yourself to pull away from him, no matter how sexy he is. This is a bad idea. But no matter how much you try to bargain with yourself, you latch onto him even tighter. 

“Why?” Yuuta laughs, and it’s a spritely thing. It’s pretty like the rest of him, like golden bells. He’s unreal. “Because of God?”

“You’re a shitty priest,” you moan as he pinches your nipple. 

“I’m just a revolutionary,” Yuuta says. He kisses your jaw, soft and tender. You resist the urge to put your fist through his head. It’s too much. “I worship with real offerings.” 

You’re suddenly seized by the very real terror that he could ruin you. Something about his eyes…

Not just his eyes. His hands, his lips - your attention to them feels like it’s not your own. Whatever compels you towards Yuta feels ancient, older than you. As if your whole life has been leading towards this point, towards him. 

Destiny is a much more terrifying concept than people realize. The idea that every action has been predetermined and no thought truly your own, that you have been made from birth to be here, cuts deep. You have never believed in something greater than yourself with a gun in your hand until you met Yuta. 

Now you’re a wounded animal, bleeding fear. An open cut. So vulnerable it would only the smallest touch to make you hurt. 

Yuuta lifts you up and onto the table, standing between your legs. His fingers slip over the zip of your pants, searchingly. 

You arch up towards him before you even quite register what you’re doing. It brings a soft chuckle out of him. Your pants are down and across the room faster than you can react. He kisses you through it, making you miss the exact moment until you feel a sudden breeze against your legs. 

You’re babbling nonsense to him, casting about for anything to say. You feel too raw, too exposed like this. Yuuta’s still fully dressed in the robes he wore when he answered the door, but you’re in nothing but a tank top and panties that Yuuta’s about to take off of you. 

“Now who’s being cute?” Yuuta teases. “Are you nervous? I thought you were supposed to be scary.” 

The only that’s making you nervous is how much you want this, but the magnitude of your desire terrifies you. 

When your panties comes off, he makes a soft noise at how wet you are from him. It sounds almost like he’s been hurt. 

He drags two fingers through the mess you’ve made of yourself, watches the sticky strings snap when he spreads them. Yuuta makes the obscene divine. He’s so pretty you think he’d make for a glorious stained glass window, even like this. 

Especially like this. 

What had he said? That pleasure was worship? 

Naked under Yuuta’s holy gaze, you’ve never felt closer to God. Closer to being clean. 

Yuuta spreads your legs for him, letting them settle around his waist. When you try to push forward, to grind against his clothed cock, he pins your hips down effortlessly with one hand. 

“Patience,” he chides. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He takes his time prepping you, but it still feels nearly impossible when you feel just the tip enter you. Yuuta presses in slowly, but you still feel full enough to break as he stretches you out. You breath in staccato, and at your fast, gasping breaths, a ringed hand tenderly strokes your cheek. 

“Easy,” Yuuta croons at you. “Easy now.” 

Yeah, easy to say when he’s not the one suffering. You let your head drop so suddenly the threat of braining yourself on the table is very real, but Yuta catches you, going down with you. He slips your arms up and around his neck as he presses home. 

Your legs are shaking, you realize with near hysterical humiliation. He hasn’t even really done anything yet, but white hot pleasure surges in your veins. This starving beast inside of you, an empty void, has been sated. It feels so good to be this full, this close. 

Yuuta’s hands are on your hips now, pulling you down onto his cock. There’s a pressure inside of you that lights up the pathways of pleasure in your brain, sending you spiraling towards a place inside you that you hadn’t realized existed.

“There you are, sweetheart,” he says as you start to cry. “How pretty.” 

You cling on to his shoulders like a life raft, shuddering against him. 

“You’re good, aren’t you?” He whispers against your throat. Between each word, he presses a kiss to the vein that pumps life giving blood to your head. 

You shake your head. He thrusts deeper in response, pulling a shiver of pleasure out of you. He’s discovered an angle that makes sparks light up behind your eyes, and he’s abusing his knowledge. “Yes,” he says, more firmly. “You are.” 

Yuuta was growing to become a dangerous addiction. If you let him keep going, you’re worried you could begin to want this. Wanting was bad. Wanting led to-

Yuuta moans, disrupting your thoughts. He pushes forward as he pulls your hips towards him, meeting you with a disgustingly lewd noise. You’re leaving nail marks in his back. Every thrust has you feeling white hot, immolation imminent. Your brain is on overload, every thought melting from your head. You find yourself nodding along to every word of praise, tears still dripping from crystallized lashes as Yuuta pushes you insistently towards the peak of your pleasure. 

Your entire body tenses as you cum, warmth suffusing every inch of your body. Your arms slide off Yuuta’s neck and fall to your sides, spent. He follows you shortly, spilling into you until your eyes roll back into your head from another sharp spike of bone melting pleasure. 

You hadn’t realized you were still tense until Yuuta reaches for you. He takes your clenched fists and unravels them, one finger at a time. They feel weak and flimsy in his grasp, easily destroyed like the petals of a flower. He could hurt you like this, you think insanely. This could be your ruination, the end of everything you worked so hard for. He presses a kiss to each finger. You don’t retaliate, letting him work. 

Your hands have wrought some real damage. Gentleness is not something you thought they were capable of.

[yanderes-galore]

Could I request yandere arkham two-face hcs? -🌹🦢

Sure! Using the wiki for the Arkham games to write his character, although this most likely works for other variations of Two-Face. I just talk general behavior, there isn't really any backstory to this one. No pairing specified so I tried to keep it general.

Yandere! Arkhamverse! Two-Face Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Murder mention, Delusional behavior, Manipulation, Kidnapping mention, Possessive behavior, Split personality, Brief stalking mention, Violence, Forced companionship/relationship.

Looking into him more, Harvey/Two-Face has a really sad backstory.

Plus due to his personalities I'd say he'd be unpredictable in behavior.

On one hand, he'd want to be caring and considerate of his darling.

One the other, he could easily snap and show sudden aggression, often killing others with the flip of a coin.

Two-Face would also be the type of yandere to believe he's fated to meet and have you.

A big part of his character is fate, after all.

Since he has such beliefs you could also assume he'd be a delusional yandere too.

Evident in Arkham Knight through tapes, it's also shown he has self-loathing aspects.

For the most part I imagine Two-Face would follow his coin for decisions on how to approach his obsession.

In terms of how he could meet you, it could be before or after his accident.

His insanity feeds into his obsession and you happen to be the person he pursues for whatever reason he has in mind.

I can also see Two-Face often arguing with himself on how to deal with his obsession.

As said before, part of him wants you to love him like a normal person, while the other just wants to lock you away where only he can see you.

As his darling, you would not be able to predict his next move.

He claims all of his actions are fate.

The coin decides just what you'll two do together and how it will go.

I imagine at times Two-Face is really sweet with you.

Sometimes the old Harvey shines through with slight pity/guilt for what he's doing.

He just hopes you'll forgive him at some point, but you both must play by fate's rules.

He'd buy you all sorts of gifts when he's able to/if he could.

He really does adore you but then there's his other side.

Two-Face, the more sadistic personality, brings violence to the table.

He'd make those around you bleed for looking at you wrong.

Murder is a common thing for Two-Face.

Sometimes when you rob Gotham's banks, people have got to die.

Murdering others in order to keep you, the one person that makes him happy after the incident, is something he'd happily follow through with.

Affection with Harvey is sweet and soft, affection with Two-Face is rough and harsh.

Any time with him is like playing a game of chance.

It's sad, really, to see a man who was given so much respect fall from grace.

Harvey knows that he could've been a great friend or even lover for if he wasn't like... this.

He blames himself for making you scared.

Yet at the same time he wants to force you to just comply.

He'll take good care of you, he'll isolate you, and you can be happy.

This city corrupts people.

He used to want/wish for great things.

That's all gone now.

Now he's a man following fate, arguing with himself over what he'll do with you.

He flips a coin for everything.

Stalking, kidnapping, killing others around you, even punishments.

He flips the coin and lets fate decide.

Fate wants you two to be by each other.

Perhaps with another coin flip... he'll decide on if he wishes to be your friend or something more.

Nothing is up to you to decide.

He even tells you he isn't making the decision himself.

It's all in the coin, it's all on fate now.

You should be happy!

It's clear you're both meant to be....

Any sort of companionship with him has its up and downs.

Perhaps if you anger him enough he may hurt you, flipping a coin to decide if it's worth it.

Hell, with him, your entire life is decided with coin flips.

He relies on it to tell him what to do.

Heads, he keeps you in locked room.

Tails, he lets you go.

Heads, he stalks you tonight.

Tails, he leaves you alone.

Heads, he kills off that friend of yours around you all the time.

Tails, he solves the issue by having his goons take you away.

You never feel like you're winning with him.

Two-Face does what he wishes and calls it fate.

At least that's what you assume.

You wonder if one day he'll flip the coin to just end you.

But he'd never.

You are what makes him feel like Harvey.

A slight sense of normalcy, someone who gives him a sense tranquility.

He needs you, regardless of what you think.

No matter what you say you won't get your way.

Sometimes he even gives you the illusion of choice, flipping that dreaded coin to see if he'll listen to you.

Wish for more freedom or space? He'll flip a coin.

There's a good chance you won't win any argument with him.

However, sometimes he decides to be merciful and says fate's won in your favor.

But it's always small things.

A companionship/relationship with Two-Face is unpredictable, yet one factor is always the same.

You'll never win his coin flip games... which means you'll be his forever and always, because fate has decided so.

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

what am I? The devil's advocate?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE GIFT OF APPOLLO STRIKES AGAIN FOR ME SPECIFICALLY CAUSE I CALLED OUT THIS CANCELLATION THE MOMENT FOREVER GOT CANCELLED!!!!! Its just so easy! So simple! Of course a male musician is gonna get cancelled and so few listened to me cause you are dumb children because obviously its children who make up the majority audience of a Minecraft roleplay server!!! Ha! At this point its comical! I'm busting a nut on how funny and predictable this all is. Haha, ah sadge. Oh noooos! Are you all gonna burn your merch and delete your art cause you're afraid that u are supporting an abuser creep. Ah waaaahhhh. Like i havent heard that tune the past two months, sing another one. Bitches.

Pft, you all are so pathetic and funny, at this point there really just must be this shadow group or whatever that is trying to destroy the qsmp from the inside out. Like really? Two months, three major creators of the qsmp are targeted by cancellations, and there is plenty of drama in between. So obviously suspicious and coincidental. And it happened so fast and so many people just dogpiled on the accused, i would have to say its almost organized. And that there is just so many jumping the gun, ready to tell these creators to kill themselves, you guys certainly have numbers, holy shit. Ha! I wonder if Forever actually finds and sues that first anti, that he'll be able to figure out who these people are because isnt this also just so conveniently timed? Each cancellation one after another. There is so much drama clouding the qsmp community that how could it not be schemed out at this point? I already predicted that with Forever's downfall and now with attempts I. Cellbit and Wilbur, Im starting to have an inclination that someone approached these girls.

With cellbit's ex it would be easy to deflame him, but i wonder how they got to this sherby whatever. Maybe cause he chose his career over her like i've heard in her video. But being exs is already hot opportunity for scorn of any kind, so its quite easy to jump on one or the other when one of these two accused the other. So really the motive could be anything at this point. anything she said or not said or those requests she asked of him and he never fulfilled. And to me she never delved too deeply in to what those requests were either. Which ok then. Fine, keep your secrets.

But biting is so fucking weird to accuse someone as abuse. Especially physical. Like just biting? That's all. Not that if its true that's not bad, but it would make sense that he was physically violent in any other way at least once. Like hitting, strangling, anything. But no, biting is the best she could come up with when it comes to physical. Mental and emotional abuse is a tricky in cause its not visible and it will always boil down to a he said she said type of shit but if there is no physical text or people witnessing their conversations then good luck with that.

But firstly, if she wants the whole world on her side then physical evidence should be so easy in this scenario. Like as easy as pie! If he bit her so badly every day where he tore skin, or whatever, then damn weren't they in a relationship??? Did they not take couple pictures? Wouldn't these pictures show the obviously horrible bitemarks? That is the first actual physical evidence that she could show that would be so easy to solidify her stance, but no, just hearsay. And nothing like texts either! Maybe a text to a friend complaining about how bad the bitemarks are. But no, nothing. No slideshow of evidence at all, just saying it happened, because words are all she needs to win the internet nowadays.

And then there are her complaints about him financially taking advantage of her, like girl, receipts! Show the receipts at least please, god damn it! Or again, these supposed texts to your girlfriends that he is taking financial advantage of you!!! Anything at all. The male accused is always expected to provide evidence that he did not abuse his ex but the girl isn't expected to show physical evidence that he did it, come on!!!

And I mean the biting in itself is so strange too. Cause like- how did it even start? She says he did it out of nowhere and my brain cant even wrap around that there was no pinpointing starting point. Said that it was a normal affection thing that his parents said was normal. If his family actually said that at all. And that he just randomly introduced it to her like ... Huh? Nothing she could accurately point to and say then, thats when it began. No sexy time or sex or whenever. Just he walked up to her in the kitchen one day and took a bite, huh? Like as far as im aware, to me (and a mutual of mine who pointed this out more accurately) their situation just sounds like a bdsm thing that went south. These two were not on the same wavelength, realized that and went their separate ways. Maybe he didn't follow the safe word every time, maybe she was also mutually into it like Wilbur said. Maybe they just changed their minds on things. Who knows! Not us, that's for sure. Not that their love life should be any of our business, but she yelled abuse so...

And the fact that she acts like biting is such a weird foreign kink. It's tame is what it is. More tame then the feet kinks in my opinion. But if what Wilbur says it's true and it was mutual, 😮‍💨 then fuck, man.

And why would HIM leaking past conversation be power over her? Wouldn't any mutual conversation or evidence they have over each other, negatively effect him in a bad light? Would it not be good if one of these parties showcased a lick of evidence to evidentally prove her right??? Or would it be like Cellbit and explain thoroughly how not everything she said is the truth?

Who knows. There is probably some truth to what she said like he reiterated. About being a slob and that biting happened. But the invasiveness of the bites and the violence of it might not have been accurate. But he needs to absolutely admit it or she needs literally any physical evidence at all to give weight to her claims. But there is nothing because of course there isn't. She could so easily expose him if what she says is true... So why didn't she in her video? If that is what she wants? But then if it is just to bring awareness then she did so in a selfish manner that is only accusatory and not grounded. Ground me Shelby. Show me the bad boyfriend he is. SHOW ME.

But she won't. Will she? :/

Anyway. The qsmp. 👏👏👏👏👏

Like in the past two months, creators have been cancelled or dropped from the qsmp one by one and damn, quackity must be super evil or one unlucky son of a bitch to have hired all these secretly maliscious people. My goodness gravy gracious, how impressive!

I mean come on, really. Like really. Have we not overheard this tune by now? Male creator gets cancelled cause of something to do with a woman, is rushed to answer and is (luckily for cellbit he had an essay on why he was innocent so people are fifty fifty on him at least) then dogpiled by the people waiting to rip his apology or response apart. And then it doesn't matter what they do, anything they do will be seen in a bad light and no one will take into consideration on their stance at all and turn on the male creator. Its crazy how the pattern keeps repeating itself and keeps being successful because everyone is afraid that they are supporting an abuser pedo whatever and have all this time.

It actually makes me sickly relieved that no matter how Forever managed his initial response, he was doomed from the start.

And i mean these younger streamers certainly think they're smart by immediately turning on Wilbur's obviously curated damage control lawyer made response, but ha! That will bite them in the ass soon too. When its their turn. Because its going to be their turn. These cancellers don't care at this point who you are, they just want to see you fall, which is what i predicted and shouted to the heavens months ago! That they should have stayed as a community instead of turning on each other.

Like they think they are so smart responding this quickly, cause the quicker your response to injustice, the more innocent you are 😇. Because if they dont respond immediately (literally hours after the fact), then they will be treated like creators such as Phil and Tommy; be treated like shit and accused for supporting an abuser by the hysterical masses. Because that's who you are if you are against whatever the ex's name is or dont speak up about it at all. And like dont speak up immediately too. You have to have a quick response or there will literally be a ripple effect of cancellations cause if you dont say anything then you are a bad person too. And all i hear from the social media smucks are Wahhhhhh.wahhhhhhhh you're bad if you support so and so! But i already made my side so im a good person wahhhhhhhh

And no, im not even enteraining shit like this anymore when she goes "uwu, i'm finally coming out on social media to spread awareness that my famous ex boyfriend (and it is ALWAYS at the height of their popularity, remember that) used to abuse and bruise me." Like sure- the benefit of doubt for the female victim blah blah but she's like- "oh but this is based on my experience and I'm just here to spread awareness. Anyway, I'm going to hang out with my friends now after dumping that clusterfuck on the internet. Bye~." Like everyone in their collective minds won't go after him and demand answers then judge his response and then turn on him anyways cause lemme be honest, when has an internet open apology ever worked? It never has. And now she has put the spotlight on him, his pr team is scrambling for an escape, he's probably messaging her behind the scenes going what the hell, and his family and friends who wont actively denounce him will be sent death threats. Just like Forever. Forever mi amor. Ah. I miss you bibi.

Anyway, girlie knew she was setting the hounds on him and acted like she didnt. Like she was just going to say her piece and dip. Like the internet wasn't going to explode. Like what the fuck? Whatever her intentions were, whether she was abused or not, she wanted this. She didnt want to get him before he got famous or even during dsmp. She wanted to do this now. For some reason it had to be now. I guess in her mind the bigger they are...

It's always the same.... goes on social media. Verbally accused with no physical evidence. Leaves. The man is left flounder in the mob of social media. Repeat.

And damn, this really makes me doubt Cellbit's ex now like- im starting to really not believe any of them anymore. Cause these cancellations are just all so convientely timed!!! Forever at the height of his lore, Cellbit's weird ex comes out of nowhere with a heavy hitter accusation, but thankfully my guy predicts this and was able to deflect that one with his PHYSICAL EVIDENCE, and now Wilbur's ex is breaking out the easy 'he abused me~' song. Like why are you all still falling for this? Why? Why? Why? Why?!

And hell, i might be a hundred percent wrong, but you might be too, so might aimsey and ranboo and tubbo. This chick might be a sweet angel that didnt mean to release an innocent criminal accusation on her famous ex, oh no~ but like, i dont even care if im wrong and am acting like a jackass.

They cancelled Forever and my man was not a pedo. I stand by that. I'll stand by it until there is a literal mugshot of him commiting said crime. Or literally any lick or shroud of physical evidence! Anything instead of the basic she said he said nonsense. The Forever texts were gross but i've already determined what I have understood from that girl Sol's response. And I've explained it on my tumblr hear before. Right here :)

-https://www.tumblr.com/lovethatmakingcoffee/739974345599926272/part-1

And these remaining qsmp idiots can be cancelled for all i care at this point. For staying quiet and letting their friend fall into a pit of vipers. I think its hilarious if they all got cancelled. Ive already seperated art from the artist with all of them after what they did to Forever. The only one I didnt do that to WAS Forever.

But they let that shit happen, they let my man get labeled as a pedo, so they reap what they sow.

And yeah i may be a hypocrite and still post qsmp stuff, but like whatever :P. I lost my mind months ago cause of circumstances and Forever was one of the few things keeping me afloat. And i mean like- phaw, these content streamers are funny, what can i say. Even though i dont agree with literally any of the shit they pulled in the last couple of months, they get a hearty chuckle out of me and their character is fun and their lore is (less) interesting. I mean- they are likeable. Thats why they are content creators. Cause they got great personalities. Doesnt mean they are good people though.

And heh, the qsmp really will die soon, i mean really. Just look. Pacfit is cute but it barely holds much in the shipping department, the lore might as well be dead cause many have left or were cancelled or have to deal with the aftermath of their friends being cancelled or leaving. And just it looks like not many people are on and that quackity tried to commercialize it with purgatory 2. Bringing all these new people and having storylines abandoned left and right. Then forever got canceled and quackity chose to throw his friend under the bus (doesnt even matter if forever secretly asked him to) and protect his project which was his first mistake. Now all these creators are getting picked off one by one because of their past relationships. Insteading of standing unified together.

And i will laugh at all of you stupid fucks who whined and cried that ohhh noooo, my favorite creator is a bad person with little evidence, and just the one side talking about it. And it doesnt matter if Wilbur said that was a consensual kink they shared and they met on www.bitemynipple.org, he will be framed as the bad guy, with whatever she said. My god. The fact that everyone takes this shit at face value and dont question anything, and quickly announce that they hate the guy to prove that they are a good person is insane.

Like holy shit, tubbo, ranboo, aimsey, and others. You jumped on him so quickly and literally ranked and ripped apart his apology like it was supposed to win some literary award, the fuck? Why are you so weird?! It's obviously a PR curated response and you are treating it like it is his actual words! The fuck?!

And then y'know, i think there are people who never really were fans and are just part of that well orchestrated alleged anti group that took down Forever and are using what wilbur's ex said to fan the flames. Loudly announcing, 'IM DELETING MY STUFF AND YOU SHOULD TOO UNLESS YOU ARE A BAD PERSON!!!" you want to talk about manipulation? That certainly looks like manipulation to me. Pathetic. Guilting people before the final verdict. My braincells are dead on the floor cause of youm And then the rest of you all roll over, bend your back and just take it. Well lube up your stupid little holes.

But honestly, i called this shit so hard. I more so guessed a fan would damn him later, but its an ex girlfriend who felt like it was a great idea to air out their personal lives to the voyeuristic eye that is the internet. Just peachy. Like this is your own personal shit, and again if there aint even a police report talking about their domestic abuse, i wont take this seriously. It a photo or a screenshot of a text about it. ANYTHING!!!!! The fact she just discreetly brought it up out of nowhere to bring 'awareness'. She knew what she was doing. And if her intentions were to tear him down cause she was angry at him or get her noticed because of his popularity or to use him to lift her agenda of this so called awareness then ok, i guess??????

And what's with this bullshit of not knowing that wilbur is manipulative? That is literally is one of his number one character traits. You can think of it negatively or positively, but unless you are new here, that dude is a manipulative hussy. Like this is a well known fact, how are any of you surprised at this? Its like saying the sky is blue. I mean- if by anything dsmp wilbur is the most manipulative lil bastard ever, obviously he is leaning into a character trait he already knows and has.

But go on, hm, cry. Write your little announcements that you always knew he was a bad person uwu and that you are deleting all your content of him. Go on and do it. Delete your art and fics that you worked so hard on just cause some drama is happening where there is no hard evidence so far except what she said and he said. Heh, I dont stan him. I aint saving this shit. If the art gets deleted, oh well! Too bad, so sad. Thats on all of you who wanted to panic, act out like toddlers and delete your art. Go on. Delete it. Feel sad. Boohoo. Waaaaaaaahhhh. Ask no questions and just side with the 'victim' who conveniently brings this up now.

Who knows. Maybe I'll act up too. Maybe i'll draw Wilbur getting eaten out and bitten and sensually gang banged. Maybe I'll draw art of tntduo chewing on each others' cocks. Bite bite bite. Maybe I'll just make a lot of wilbur biting art just to spite everyone. Who knows?!

Maybe i will also keep the wilbur soot tag alive, like i am doing with the forever, sugarduo, and the 4halo tag. Because you stupid ass bitches just squeal when these creators arent perfect when someone drops dirt on them. Well newsflash you dumb fucks, they all have dirt on them.

Also my next guess on who the cancel qsmp victim will be ... Fit. They havent got anything on Philza yet to my surprise. Maybe the man just surrounds himself with loyal people outside of minecraft server cause obvs those people aint loyal as shit 🤣. And i dont know much about fit outside of qsmp, like i feel a lot of us do. But he totally fits the qualifications. He's a man so he's an easy target. He's older so he has a 'past tm. And he is seen as otherwise good and another pillar of the qsmp. So if he is taken down, many shall follow. It would be another good shock to the community to destroy the server like these antis want. And yeah- i actually think this all stems around the qsmp. Aint no other Minecraft servers are having this level of drama right now, so why is it qsmp that are getting all these leaks and drama bombs at ... At the height of their popularity? I wonder. Or maybe i already know.

But all these pr disaster drama landmines, i even made a funny theory joke in my head that what if the ringleader to these alleged anti groups is actually a pr manager of one of these groups? And thats how they have been destroying everyone from the inside, collecting some OLD dirt, and being able to maybe connect or approach these exs. But that's just a funny theory i have. Like could you imagine???

Could you imagine?

And damn, i just wonder if there is a content creator policy that if one of them is being attacked than the rest have to dogpile on them no matter how they feel or what they think about the situation to save their own assets and finances? Do you think? You think that's in their contract? That would be absurd and hilarious. Imma piss myself from laughing. Look piss.

And no, i will not talk nicely about this. I never should have. You guys all deserve to be spat on and talked shit to. And i mean all. Im talking about everyone. All those that fall hook line and sinker. Dumbfucks

Will i respond to anything from this...? Mm maybe. Probably not. I don't really care what happens :P sucks to suck

(Also yeah this was barely edited, eat my ass)

(And I mean, damn if I'm wrong I'm wrong, but you fucks turn so quick when yeah- there is no physical evidence that she could easily provide)

(to reiterate for those who don't want to read the finer details. I totally think everything that has happened so far as been to rip apart the qsmp and think all these ex girlfriends as well are too conveniently timed. And whether or not they are telling the truth, there are and will always be antis lying in wait to shame and guilt everyone to damn the male accused while no physical evidence is brought forth and that they pressure people to delete their art and fics. Gross)

[sitkowski]

sunshine riptide (jolly karlsson x nick folio)

pairing: jolly karlsson x nick folio cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ oblivious idiots in love, enough fluff to kill a man, recreational drug use, shotgunning, size kink, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, anal fingering, barebacking, finger sucking, choking, praise kink, marking/biting, overstimulation, daddy kink, bottoming from the top. word count: 8.8k author's note: the brainworms for this one has been neverending, so here's nearly 9k of jolly and nick, enjoy! thanks to everyone who cheered me on with this one!! title comes from "sunshine riptide" by fall out boy 🫶🏻 dividers by @saradika-graphics

⇉ masterlist | taglist signups || the riptide verse masterpost

The last pack of Pop Tarts are hidden away on the top shelf. Nick would know, he put them there so that no one else would steal them. Only he didn’t think it through and now he can’t reach them. Even standing on his tiptoes and jumping up. He could just climb up on the counter, but Matt yelled at him the last time he did it because apparently the bus counters aren’t for climbing. He’s not even in the room, but Nick’s sure he’d know if he did it anyway.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his ribs and Jolly is leaning over him, reaching up into the cabinet to grab the package and put it in his hands. Nick feels himself go hot all over, and his mouth falls open a little in surprise. He recovers quickly, trying not to say something stupid. Jolly’s close to him all the time, they’re all constantly in each other’s space.

But he’s close to him all the time. The bus, sharing hotel rooms, and just in general because they’re all so close And Nick’s brain can only handle so much of this man on a good day, on the days when his brain tells him that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to ask his friend if he can climb him like a tree, that’s another thing entirely. He wants to just take his Pop Tarts and run to his bunk, but then Jolly is giving him a smile. His hand is still on Nick’s side.

“Thanks, Jolls.” he says, hoping that the hearts aren’t actually visible in his eyes when he looks up at him. 

“Oh I totally had an ulterior motive for doing that,” Jolly tells him, and Nick does not say the first dirty thing that comes to his mind. “I wanted one of them. I was just waiting for you to try to get them.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Nick tears open the package and hands one of the Pop Tarts to him before scooting past him and heading towards his bunk.

He tells himself the last thing he needs to do is get himself in some kind of trouble by dating someone inside the band, he doesn’t want to fuck anything up. The fact that he’s had a crush on Jolly since he joined the band is irrelevant. He’d rather keep it to himself, and thinks that it’s just easier to be friends. There are times he wishes that they weren’t all as touchy feely as they are with each other, there’s only so much he can take.

Noah’s bunk is across from his, and with the curtain half open, he can see him inside, curled up in a hoodie that Nick is pretty sure belongs to Nicholas. It’s a kick in the chest lately every time he looks at him, seeing how exhausted he looks. Something’s got to give eventually.

“You okay, bub?” he asks, before breaking his Pop Tart in half and holding out a piece to Noah.

“Tired.” Noah says as he reaches across to accept it. “Why are you all blushy?”

Nick makes an affronted noise, distracted from the rapid change in subject. He didn’t think it was obvious. Groaning, he thinks of smothering himself in one of his pillows.

“Jolly's got big hands." Nick blurts out.

Noah looks down at his own hands, making a petulant noise. "What's your point?"

Nick does not say I want them on me every way I can get them and I'll do whatever I can to make that happen. Instead, he stands there, stubborn and silent, his face turning redder by the second. Noah finally looks up, and smiles.

"Oh, kid, you are so predictable, it's cute."

Just happy to see a smile on Noah’s face, Nick flips him off and shoves the rest of his Pop Tart in his mouth to avoid having to say anything else, before turning and crawling into his bunk. He gets a bit of a reprieve when Nicholas appears in the galley, coming up to Noah’s bunk with a determined look on his face. He feels like a voyeur listening in, but he’s already in his bed and there’s nowhere to escape now.

“Yes or no?” Nicholas asks, apparently picking up on an earlier conversation he and Noah had been having. “It’s your call. You know we’ll all back you. But I need you to say it.”

Nick sees the way that Noah’s been struggling lately, how the burnout has dug its claws into him and won’t let go. They’ve been going nonstop with less time off each go round, and while he loves this more than anything, it’s taking its toll. And he can see right now that Noah wants to say no, to try and push through and finish what they’ve started.

“Do you need us to say it for you?” He asks, and Nicholas and Noah both look at him. “Let us take the weight off of you?”

He sees Jolly lingering in the entryway, and when he meets his eyes, he nods. It’s a hard decision to make, but it’s got to be made and they’d never let Noah do it alone.

Noah sniffles a little, burrowing deeper into the hoodie, and Nicholas sighs, shoving him over and crawling right into the bunk beside him. Jolly comes down the hall and sits on the floor outside of Nick’s bunk. They wait, none of them saying anything at first. Nicholas has wrapped himself around Noah, and it feels like something Nick doesn’t think he’s meant to see.

“I wanna go home.” Noah mutters into the front of Nicholas’ shirt. “I wanna rest.”

“Then we’ll go.” Jolly says, and Nick nods in agreement. “We’ll make some calls.”

“Not LA.” Noah says. “I wanna go home. Just for a little while”

“We can do that,” Nick promises. At this point he’d take him wherever he wanted if it would make him okay.

Four days later and they’re booking their flight back to the states after releasing their statement. Despite the disappointment they all feel for having to pull out of the rest of the shows, seeing the relief that Noah feels as they board their plane is something that Nick won’t be able to forget. He’s asleep before they’re halfway home, his head pillowed on Nicholas' shoulder. On Nick’s other side, Jolly is tapping out a rhythm on his knee, and when Nick tips his head back into the seat and looks up at him, Jolly’s mouth curves upwards in a smile. He switches from tapping on his own leg to tapping on Nick’s, some secret code that he doesn’t understand but wishes he did.

Three days home and Nick’s already antsy. There’s only so much sleep he can get before he’s sitting up at three in the morning, watching Chopped reruns and fighting the urge to do something crazy like rearrange all his furniture. He’s got the solution and immediately starts making plans the second he wakes up on the third day. A friend of his in Maryland rents out her cabin, typically as an Airbnb, but she’s willing to give it up to him for a week for half the normal cost. All he can think about is packing his fishing gear and getting on his bike, enjoying the ride up and the peace and quiet. It’s never quiet in Los Angeles, which is probably why they all chose to go to the East Coast instead.

He goes to Noah and Nicholas’ place because he wants to check in on Noah before he leaves and make sure that he’s not doing anything but resting. He’s sure that Nicholas has him under control. It’s not surprising to find Jolly there too; as much time as they spend together on and off the road it’s just second nature to be in each other’s back pockets all of the time. When he lets himself inside, he can hear the sound of the television from the foyer, and when he walks around the corner he’s immediately satisfied to see that Noah is a lump in Nicholas’ lap on the sofa, rewatching Attack on Titan for who knows how many times.

Jolly’s sprawled out on the opposite sofa, half paying attention to the show and reading a book. He glances up and wiggles his fingers in a wave, and Nick feels a stupid flutter in his stomach. When he goes to sit down in the empty recliner, Jolly snags the back of his shirt and pulls him down into the empty space beside him. It’s unfair how he can move him around so easily, but Nick shuts that thought down really quick.

“I’m leaving for Rosa’s cabin in like…an hour, just wanted to come check and make sure the studio door was still locked tight.” he says instead.

“I’m sure Ruff’s come up with all sorts of creative ways to keep him sedated,” Jolly snorts, tucking his bookmark back into his book.

“I heard that,” Noah mumbles, raising a hand to flip him off. Nicholas smirks and pulls the blanket tighter over his shoulders.

“I know sweetheart, I said it loud enough,” he turns his attention to Nick. “Want some company?”

Nick stares at him as if he just asked the question in Swedish. It’s the last thing he expected, especially since he’s planning on leaving so soon. But Jolly doesn’t appear to be joking, and Nick swallows hard. Seven days alone with him is something entirely different than any other time they’ve hung out, and for some reason, it makes him nervous.

“You wanna come with me? I’m literally gonna do nothing but fish and sleep for a week, dude.”

“And if I stay here, I’m gonna get bored out of my mind watching these two play kissy face with one another and inevitably slip into a coma.”

“That’s dramatic.” Noah pipes up from his blanket cocoon.

Nick’s got two options. He can be an asshole and not let Jolly come with him or let him go. He could make up an excuse, say he isn’t going alone. But he doesn’t want to do that, it feels like a dick move and he honestly loves spending time with him. There’s a selfish part of him that knows him coming along might be a bad idea, but he doesn’t care. Even if they’re just going as buddies, it’s still a week with him all to himself.

“Yeah, okay. Why don’t you pack your stuff and meet me at my place?”

He was going to take his bike but it’s probably just easier to take his truck. More practical with both of their stuff and if they need to make store runs or anything. Not that he expects anything to go wrong, but it makes more sense.

“You two enjoy your vacation.” Nicholas says with a smug look.

Jolly, oblivious as ever, salutes him as he and Nick are heading towards the door. Nick catches on though, and points a finger at him in warning. All Nicholas does is blow him a kiss as Noah giggles into his blankets and turns his attention back to his show.

An hour later, Jolly’s tossing his stuff in the back of Nick’s truck alongside Nick’s bags and his fishing gear. The weather is supposed to be clear from there to Lusby, and it’s a two hour drive. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting the minute he and Jolly are in the cab of his truck, windows down as they get on the road. It’s a different kind of nervousness he feels, because Jolly’s always been there, just out of the corner of his eye, constantly on his mind. Nick lets him pick the music for the drive up, and the drive is mostly comfortable silence filled with the occasional comment about the scenery or a song.

They make good time, not bothering to stop for lunch and instead hitting up the nearest supermarket to stock up for the week so they won’t have to drive back out. And maybe, selfishly, Nick picks out a bunch of stuff just so Jolly can cook it for him because he knows that’s one of his favorite things to do. It doesn’t take long after they load up the groceries to find the back road that leads to Rosa’s cabin. Nick pushes his sunglasses up into his hair as the shade of the trees takes away the glare of the sun, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the way that Jolly’s taking in the view through the windshield. It’s a little cute, all the places in the world they’ve been and he still gets a little enamored with somewhere new.

Known as The Hideaway, the waterfront A frame cabin sits on two acres on the outskirts of town. From what Nick knows about it, it was built in the 70's and had belonged to Rosa's grandparents. She'd recently had it renovated a few years back, modernizing it for renters. Past the driveway and the pier, St. Leonard's Creek is the backdrop for their view, and Nick parks the truck in the driveway facing the water. He cuts the engine and pops open his door, taking a moment to breathe in the air.

“Is it always like this up here?” Jolly asks as he gets out of the truck.

“A whole different kind of quiet, yeah.”

They unload the truck and put all of the food away, and Nick sends Noah and Nicholas a text to let them know they arrived. The house hasn’t changed much since the last time he was there and he shows Jolly around the inside. It’s all basic; two rooms, a bathroom, kitchen, and living room. Nick doesn’t think they’ll need that much up here. And he can already feel himself unwinding the longer they’re there. 

“How do you know the girl that owns this place?” Jolly asks when they’re exploring the back patio and walking down towards the deck. “It sounded like you’ve been here more than once.”

“Our parents were friends, we saw each other around a lot. She lets me rent the place from time to time when I wanna disappear for a bit.”

“You dated?”

“I dated her brother. He had the good weed.”

Jolly stops short, and Nick realizes what he’s said. It’s not like he hides the fact that he’s bisexual from his friends, but the look of surprise on his face is confusing. It disappears just as quickly, and Jolly’s attention is on the pier as he walks ahead of him. Nick hangs back for a few moments, and he can’t help but pull out his phone to take a photo of him.

“If you’re gonna stand back there and take pictures, at least come out here and take one with me.” Jolly says, looking at him over his shoulder.

Blowing out a breath, Nick strolls down the pier, stopping when he’s standing beside him. Before he can say anything, Jolly plucks his phone from his hand and wraps his arm around his neck, pulling him in close. It's just automatic for him to drape his arm around Jolly’s back, smiling when he holds up the phone to take the picture.

“Alright,” Jolly gives his neck a quick squeeze before passing back his phone. “Let's go make some lunch, I'm starving.”

Nick stands there a little dumbly for a few seconds before turning and following him, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck as if he could still feel his hand on him. It’s not until they're in the kitchen that he finally looks at the photo that Jolly took, and it makes something in his chest ache.

“You okay?" Jolly asks, catching him staring at the screen intently.

Nick nods, “Yeah, I was just checking in with Rosa. What do you feel like for lunch?”

Jolly knew it was selfish to ask to come along on Nick’s week away, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't been lying when he told him that he would be bored at home or that it would drive him crazy watching Nicholas and Noah making heart eyes at each other. The chances of him walking in on them screwing around were absolutely possible. He could have just stayed in LA, made plans with friends out there. He doesn't mind the noise. But when Nick said he was leaving, he couldn't help himself.

It's probably the oldest cliche in the world, being in love with a friend and choosing to keep it to himself for the sake of friendship. It works for Noah and Nicholas, but they've been attached to each other since childhood. Jolly doesn’t want to risk his friendship with Nick over something that could crash and burn. The band doesn't need that. But seven days alone with him is either going to be the best or worst thing in the world. Jolly’s always been a little bit of a masochist. He'll take what he can get.

His sleep schedule is always fucked after being on the road, and he wakes up in the middle of the night dying of thirst. A minute or two of disorientation passes before he remembers he’s not at his apartment in Virginia or the LA house. He manages to stumble downstairs as quietly as possible, because he got the top floor room and Nick’s in the room on the first floor. There’s a small light above the stove they left on, and it’s the only thing keeping him from running into anything as he gets a glass and fills it at the sink.

Jolly’s halfway through the glass when he hears a sound that makes him freeze. He’d know it anywhere, and it’s one he probably shouldn’t know in the first place if not for years of touring together and sharing hotel rooms and constantly being on top of one another. You can only tour with someone for so long and not hear them jerking off, no matter how quiet they try to be. But the place is small and it’s three in the morning, and it’s impossible not to hear. The room that Nick is in is just off the hallway, the door only half closed, and another breathless whine filters through the open space. He should go back to bed, but instead he turns towards the hall.

The moonlight pouring through the windows offers just enough visibility for Jolly to be able to see, as if he were meant to. Nick’s sprawled on his back in bed, blankets and sheets shoved to the end. His hand works beneath the waistband of his basketball shorts, and he lets out a frustrated groan before shoving them off and kicking them away. Despite all of the water Jolly just drank, his mouth goes dry at the sight of him completely bare; nothing but tanned skin and ink glistening with sweat from the humid night air, the chain perpetually around his neck glinting in the light, the way his chipped nail polish stands out starkly, fist moving over his cock languidly. If the sights weren’t enough to drive him out of his mind, the sounds are being permanently seared in his brain, and he’s dangerously close to opening a box that says Folio: do not touch.

He freezes as Nick rolls over, away from the door, onto his stomach. His hips grind into the mattress, not even trying to be quiet as he pants and squirms into the sheets. Jolly contemplates pushing the door open the rest of the way as he watches the muscles in his back flex and shift, his other hand fisting in his own hair. Would Nick invite him in? Would he send him away, tell him to get the fuck out and go home? Nick’s moans are nearly loud enough to reverberate around the room, the slick sound of his hand moving almost as loud. He might not even notice if Jolly came in, and he presses the heel of his hand to the front of his sweats at the thought, so hard his knees feel weak at the simple touch.

But he won’t move, he can't. He doesn't touch himself more than he already is either, having to be content with watching.

“Joakim,” Nick gasps, still oblivious to his presence in the doorway.

There's no pretending he misheard, and Jolly feels his entire body go hot. He takes one halting step forward before he turns and staggers back towards the stairs. Once he's in his room, he swears he can still hear everything coming from downstairs, and the sound of his name coming from Nick's mouth—not even his nickname, but his name—as he gasped in pleasure is Jolly’s final straw. He's barely back in bed before he shoves his hand beneath the waistband of his sweats and wraps his fingers around his cock, stroking himself firmly. He sinks his teeth into the meat of his own arm so he won’t be heard, and he’s barely touched himself before he’s coming all over his hand, Nick’s name just beneath his tongue.

When Nick asks him the next morning how he slept, Jolly lies right through his teeth and says that he slept like a baby. The bite mark on his arm stings for two days.

He has to give Nick credit, it took him two days before he decided to do any fishing. Jolly doesn’t bring up the other night at all, keeps it to himself and focuses on the vacation. When Nick asks if he wants to come out on the pier with him while he’s fishing, he agrees easily.  The day is bright and warm, and Jolly enjoys watching Nick go into full concentration fishing mode. It’s something he’s seen before, and it never fails to entertain him. There’s two coolers beside them; one for fish and one that holds drinks. It’s not the first time he’s gone fishing with him, and it always fascinates him when Nick’s instructions actually lead to him catching something. He’s promised to cook whatever they catch, he knows Nick’s looking forward to that.

“It’s hot out.” Jolly observes after they’ve been at it for a while.

Nick squints, looking up at the sky, “Probably a few more hours before it’s at its hottest.”

Jolly glances over and sees that both of their phones are out of the way and he takes off his own sunglasses, setting them aside. Nick’s unaware of what he’s thinking, too invested in setting his pole aside to open the cooler for another bottle of water.

“We should cool off…”

He doesn’t give him any warning, grabbing him around the waist and hoisting him up. Nick’s shouts are lost as Jolly tips them both off the edge of the pier into the water below. They both surface at the same time; Nick spluttering and his hat floating nearby, and Jolly can’t help but reach out and push his wet hair back out of his face.

“You scared away my fish, Jolls,” Nick mutters, splashing him. He’d somehow managed to keep on his sunglasses, but he tosses them up on the dock with his hat. 

“You scared off your fish, yelling like that.”

 Jolly splashes him back harder, and Nick narrows his eyes at him for a second before he lunges. He expects it though, and tosses him over his shoulder back into the water. They wrestle around like that for a while, until they’re both too tired to try to get the upper hand on each other and just float around, basking in the sun and the sounds. Jolly wishes he could take a photo of Nick in this moment, floating on his back beside him, eyes closed and the sun beating down on him. Eventually, he turns his head to look at him, eyes bright in the reflection of the water, and the air grows thick with tension.

“You’re gonna regret this in the morning,” he says, voice soft.

Jolly ignores the irony in that statement, grabbing on to Nick’s ankle and pulling until he’s closer. Nick flails and straightens, shaking his head. His hair falls back in his face, reminding Jolly so much of when he’s lost in the music on stage.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle the morning after,” Jolly says, swimming a circle around him. “I’ve survived mornings after a show just fine.”

Something flickers across Nick’s face that he can’t really decipher, and he moves a little closer to him. Before he can even speak again, the sound of a boat tearing through the water down the creek ruins whatever the moment might be. When he looks back at Nick, he’s in the water up to his nose, and he should expect it when he lifts and spits a mouthful of water at him, letting out a gleeful cackle before swimming towards the ladder on the pier.

Jolly follows him reluctantly, pulling himself up onto the dock. Nick shakes himself off like a wet dog before stripping out of his shirt and wringing the water from it. His body feels heavy from being in the water so long, and when he looks at his phone, he sees it’s been over an hour.

“Well, now I need a nap,” he says, taking off his own shirt as if it’ll make his body feel lighter. “Wanna crash out and watch a movie before I start cooking these up?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They grab their stuff and head back up to the cabin, trailing water up the path and onto the back deck. There are towels there and they both grab one to dry off with and wrap around their hips as they abandon their damp clothes to deal with later. In the bright light of the afternoon, the moment seems the complete opposite of the other night, just like any other moment on tour when they’ve been in dressing rooms or on the bus together. The air around them still feels charged with something, but Jolly doesn’t get his hopes up. He heads upstairs to get dressed, and when he goes down the hall to the tv room, Nick’s already dressed and has thrown himself across the longer part of the sofa.

Jolly could choose to sit in the chair but it honestly doesn’t look very comfortable, so he goes to the other end of the couch and sits. Nick doesn’t even say anything, he just grabs one of the throw pillows, puts it in his lap and pats it as he grabs the remote to turn on the television. Jolly hesitates, only for a fraction of a second because he’s used to being able to use his friends as pillows constantly and this should feel no different, and scoots over and lays down.

They’re halfway through the first movie when he feels Nick’s fingers in his hair, carding through the damp strands absently. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, eyelids growing heavy at the attention. Eventually, it’s just Nick’s palm curved against the side of his head, fingertips just so at the edge of his jaw. Jolly risks a glance upward and sees that Nick’s asleep, head tilted back into one of the other pillows. He tries not to move much, surprisingly comfortable in the position he’s in, and lets himself settle more, closing his eyes.

Rosa’s got a strict no smoking in the house, or I’ll kill you, Folio policy, so he takes it out onto the back patio beneath the covered canopy by the firepit. It’s just barely after sunset, the temperature just barely starting to dip and the evening air sticky with humidity. Nick lights his joint and props his feet up on the edge of the firepit, sinking down into one of the deck chairs and tilting his head back. Thunder rumbles across the river, a storm rolling in. Dinner was great, and Jolly practically kicked him out of the kitchen so he could clean up even though he was the one who cooked. 

If he didn’t know any better, Jolly was flirting with him earlier. But the more he thinks about it, the more that doesn’t make any sense because that’s how he’s always been with him from the day they met. He tries not to think too much about it, lets the weed get him out of his head because they still have four days here and Nick’s just trying to not make an idiot of himself.

“Do you wanna light this?” Jolly asks as he sits in the chair to Nick’s right.

“S’too hot for it,” Nick mumbles and when Jolly wiggles his fingers at him, he passes him the joint. “Gonna rain soon anyways.”

Rolling his head to the side, Nick watches as Jolly takes a hit; the way his cheeks hollow out and how the fading light catches on his rings. He’s staring, he knows he is. So much for not thinking about this too much, because the second Jolly’s in his orbit, it’s all he’s thinking about.

“You’ve got big hands,” he slurs before he can stop himself. “Why is it so fucking distracting?”

Jolly meets his eyes for a moment before he lifts one of his hands to spread his fingers out and look at them. Nick means to reach for the joint, but instead he finds himself pressing his hand to Jolly’s. Gauging the difference. He goes to take his hand back, realizing the line he’s crossing a fraction too late, but Jolly holds onto him. He takes another hit from the joint, and then pulls until Nick has no point but to lean into his personal space and accept the smoke being blown into his mouth. It would be so easy to finish crossing that line, but instead he leans back, snatching both his joint and his hand back.

“Why’d you do that?” he asks as he exhales.

“Cause you wouldn’t.”

Time slows to a steady crawl, and Nick’s head feels like it’s filled with something soft. He turns his attention to the river again, watching the sun fully melt behind the treeline on the other side. Clouds roll in the darker it gets, the thunder getting closer. His mind tells him that’s some sort of euphemism for what’s happening right now.

“Nick? Hey, look at me?” Jolly’s voice is practically crawling over his skin, and he manages to turn his eyes to him. “You good?”

“Mhm, Just a little…hot.”

He tries not to squirm around in the chair, handing over the joint again. His eyes flutter closed and he tips his head back against the chair, running his fingers through his hair absently. Sweat beads on his neck and he hears the chair creak beside him, a quiet groan following. He thinks that Jolly’s getting up to leave, but when his eyes flutter open and he turns his head to look at him, he sees that he’s got his hand beneath the waistband of his shorts.

“You too,” Jolly murmurs and Nick blinks as if he’s confused when he is very much not. “C’mon Nicky, play the game.”

Game. Nick’s world tilts on its axis. He doesn’t have a chance to fully cross that line because Jolly’s yanking him over it with those words and he watches as he takes one last hit before flicking the roach into the fire pit. It’s not the craziest thing Nick’s ever done, not the first time someone’s watched him. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he keeps his eyes on Jolly as he pushes at the waistband of his shorts, lifting up and moving them down his thighs.

He can feel Jolly’s eyes burning into him as he tries to gather as much spit as he can in his palm before wrapping his fingers around his half hard cock. He jerks his chin at him, because he’s not going to be the only one with his dick out if they’re doing this. Jolly moves his shorts down and Nick hears him let out a little sigh as he starts stroking himself again. Moving his hand slowly at first, warming himself up, Nick lets his eyes drift from his face to his cock, moving between those ringed fingers.

“Are you hard for me, pretty?” Jolly asks, sounding so calm that it actually makes Nick a little mad. “Let me see.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Nick shifts around in the chair and drags his shirt up out of the way. Jolly’s chair creaks more as he actually leans forward to look. Nick wishes he would touch him, but he just watches. He drags his fingers up the underside of his cock, head hitting the back of the chair as he lets out a whine between his gritted teeth. He swears to himself that if this happens again, he’s going to make Jolly pay for this moment. It’s started to rain, but all Nick can hear is the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears and the quiet moans from Jolly to his left.

“Jolls—”

“No, say it the other way, say it how you said it the other night.”

It takes a few seconds for the meaning behind his words to kick in, and Nick stops, gasping for air. Because there’s no way that Jolly could know exactly what he was doing the first night they were here. It had been the middle of the night and Nick had been alone in his room.

“Did you…did you hear me?” he asks, voice rising suspiciously high.

Jolly looks a little embarrassed. “I came downstairs for a drink—”

“Did you watch me?” Suddenly he’s moving, pulling up his shorts. Jolly looks surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting Nick’s reaction. And honestly, Nick isn’t even sure why he’s reacting this way, but a part of him feels wrong about this. “God, what am I doing, what the fuck am I doing?”

Instead of walking towards the cabin, he starts for the path to the pier, needing to breathe. This isn’t how he thought this would go. But that word keeps flickering in his mind. Game. If it’s just a game to Jolly, he doesn’t want to play. He doesn’t get very far down the dark path before Jolly’s there, grabbing his arm and yanking him around.

Nick might be small, but he doesn’t even think when he rips his arm out of his grasp and shoves him back. Jolly stumbles a few steps, but it’s too dark to see his face. “That’s what this is to you? A game? Did you come here this week just to fuck around with me?”

“No! I didn’t, I—”

“Do you not get what’s on the line here?”

“Let me expl—”

“I didn’t bring you here for you to use me as some sort of—”

Jolly lets out an aggravated growl and fists his hands in the front of Nick’s shirt, practically lifting him off his feet, nearly shaking him. “I love you.”

“You mean like you love Ruff and Noah? Sure.”

“Oh my god, you are way too pretty to be this stupid, I’m never letting you smoke again,” He hauls Nick in closer, leaning down until they’re at eye level. “I’m in love with you.”

Nick knows he heard him right, but he still just stares at him dumbly for a few seconds before he actually has the capacity to react. Reaching up, he cups Jolly’s face, dragging his thumbs against his jaw.

“You fucking asshole.” he breathes out before pulling his mouth down to his.

Nick’s thought about this before, of course he has. But thinking about it and finally doing it are two different things entirely. The minute he kisses Jolly, any rational thought of stopping flees his mind. Here he is, standing in the now pouring rain in the dark, and the only thing that matters is this; Jolly’s still got his hands fisted in the front of his shirt and Nick wraps his arms around his shoulders, kissing him harder. Jolly makes a needy sound in the back of his throat, trying to get him closer.

“Tell me,” he whispers against Nick’s mouth, sucking his bottom lip between his and grazing it with his teeth. “Tell me you love me too.”

“I’ve been in love with you since I was eighteen,  I just didn’t want to fuck up the band. Which is probably funny if you think about it, given that Nick and Noah are practically married to one another—”

The next thing he knows, Jolly’s grabbing him by his face and kissing him so hard they nearly fall over. Nick grabs at his shoulders, trying to stay upright. Just as quickly, he’s pushing him back, trying to ignore the disappointed noise that he makes.

“Okay, we need to go inside right now because I am not above you fucking me out here.”

Jolly laughs weakly, forehead pressed to his. “That is not the threat you think it is.”

Grabbing onto his wrist, Nick turns and starts pulling him back up the path to the cabin. Jolly doesn’t try to stop him, not until they’re in the hallway and then he’s extracting himself from his grasp, only to turn him around and press him against the wall. They stare at each other for a long, tense moment. Nick’s tongue drags across his bottom lip and Jolly’s eyes track the movement hungrily. Reaching out, he curls his hand around the nape of his neck, leaning down to kiss him open mouthed and slow.

When he wraps his other hand around the underside of Nick’s chin, Nick nearly melts into the wall. He pushes into that hold, grabbing onto Jolly’s sides, trying to get him to move towards the bedroom. But he’s made himself immovable and Nick whines impatiently.

“Please,” he gasps, tugging on his shirt. “Joll—”

Jolly pulls back, bringing himself to his full height. “Hm?”

Nick knows what he wants. At this point, he would give him anything he wanted if he asked, and even if he didn’t say it out loud. Curling his hand around Jolly’s where it’s still holding onto his face, Nick pulls it away and presses his mouth to his palm, and keeping his eyes on him he sinks his teeth in, just a little.

“Take me to bed, Joakim.”

His words have the exact effect that he was hoping for. Jolly grabs onto the front of his shirt, pulling him away from the wall and backing him up into his room. The minute the back of Nick’s legs hit the edge of the bed, he pulls free long enough to yank his shirt over his head and shove off his shorts. Jolly strips out of his clothes just as quickly. He starts to take off his rings but Nick shakes his head rapidly, stopping him.

“Leave them on.”

He barely gets the last word out before Jolly’s on him, using one of those ringed hands to shove him back onto the bed. Nick knows he could resist a little, make him work for it, but it’s kind of been a thought of his to let him toss him around however he wants, and he lets him do just that. At least until Jolly gets onto the bed with him, and then Nick strikes. He twists them around, shoving him onto his back and straddling his legs, grabbing his wrists and shoving them to the mattress. Jolly looks almost surprised, laughing a little, until Nick wipes that look off his face by reaching down to wrap his fingers around his cock.

“Pretty like the rest of you,” he murmurs, shuffling forward a little. His breath hitches as his cock slides slickly against Jolly’s a few times and when he looks up at his face, he can see that he’s struggling to stay still. “Hang on a sec, good boy.”

Nick doesn’t miss the full body shudder that Jolly gives when he lets go of him to grab the bottle of lube out of the nightstand drawer. He leans in to kiss him, quick and affectionate, and presses his forehead to his. Jolly’s hands are immediately on him, wrapping around his sides as he rolls his hips upward. Nick gasps and grinds down, and his eyes flutter closed.

“That what you like?” Nick asks, unable to help himself. “You like it when I tell you you’re being a good boy? Or do you want something else?”

“I swear to fucking god, Nick—”

“I don’t know, you look like you want me to call you daddy while I ride you until you cry.”

The look that Jolly gives him is almost panicky, as if he’s shocked that Nick figured out his deep dark secret. He also doesn’t deny it. Instead he grabs onto Nick’s chain, pulling him down. He doesn’t kiss him though, he pulls him up a little further and gets his mouth on Nick’s chest; traces his tongue over the ink there, sinks his teeth hard into a section of bare skin below one of the eagle wings. He moves lower and bites him again, until Nick has to physically pull him away by his hair. Mostly to stop himself from coming too soon rather than him not liking it.

“You wanna do the honors?” he asks, waving the bottle of lube in front of Jolly’s eyes.

Jolly sits up, keeping Nick in his lap, and takes the bottle from him. The lube is cold, makes Nick twitch and laugh a little against Jolly's throat, but his fingers are warm when they press into him. It's been a while, but not long enough to feel uncomfortable. Nick hums and rocks down into the intrusion, dragging his mouth up the side of Jolly's throat. He knows that the angle must be murder on Jolly's wrist, but he's also seen what the man does with a guitar on the regular. 

Nick doesn’t need much, and he tries to tell Jolly that, but he’s insistent. Nick wants to love that about him, that he cares so much to make sure that he’s fully prepared, but most of his brain is just telling him to hurry the fuck up so he can get what he wants. He stays as still as he can, even as he brushes his fingers over his prostate and makes Nick sink his teeth into the meat of Jolly’s shoulder. He whines and rocks down on his hand, trying to get him to either move faster or pull them out. Finally he gives up, grabbing onto Jolly’s wrist himself and pulling his fingers free.

“Impatient brat,” Jolly mutters under his breath, giving himself a few quick strokes to slick the way before wiping his hand on the sheets beneath them. “You want it so bad? Fine.”

He throws himself back against the pillows and gestures for Nick to go ahead. Nick shuffles on his knees a little, lifting up and reaching back to wrap his fingers around Jolly’s cock. He keeps his eyes on him the entire time, he doesn’t want to miss the look on Jolly’s face as he sinks down on him slowly, taking him in inch by inch until there is no space between them. He won’t tell him he’s grateful for the prep, because it still feels overwhelming as he sits still for a moment and breathes. His eyes sting, for all his big talk of making Jolly cry, he’s the one who’s suddenly emotional about this.

“Hey, hey,” Jolly’s hands stroke over his thighs and Nick leans forward, bracing his hands on his chest, curling over him. “It’s okay, c’mere.”

Jolly holds onto the nape of his neck, kissing him soft and slow and the more Nick gets lost in it, the calmer he feels. His lips are tingling when he pulls away and presses his forehead into Jolly’s shoulder, before he finally sits upright. He can feel him shift inside of him and he sees Jolly gritting his teeth and trying to be nice for the sake of giving Nick the time he needs to adjust.

“I need you to do something for me,” He says and Jolly blinks as if he can’t understand why Nick is trying to have a conversation with him. “You’re gonna be good and stay still for me. No touching…yet.”

“Are you fu—”

“Ah, no,” Nick presses his hands to Jolly’s chest harder, raising himself up and sinking back down, effectively cutting off his words. “Just…just give me this, okay?”

He knows that he sounds desperate, but he is. Because the second that Jolly touches him again, he’s going to lose it. And he can see that Jolly’s contemplating just ignoring him, tossing him over and having his way with him. Normally Nick would be all for that. But not yet, not right away. He needs it to last, and he’s willing to drag out that he’s got some facet of control over this situation as long as he can.

Finally, Jolly relents and brings his hands up to the headboard, keeping them there. There’s a glint in his eyes that tells him he’s not going to agree to this for long, but Nick likes that. He rises up slowly and back down in long, steady strokes. The whole time he keeps his eyes on Jolly's, watching his mouth part on each gasp and moan he lets out with every twitch of Nick's hips. He won’t let him touch him, and he won’t touch himself. Not yet, even though he’s so hard it makes him dizzy. Jolly’s hands flex impatiently against the headboard, and Nick blinks sweat from his eyes. His entire body feels as if it’s caught on fire and he can’t breathe, his head dipping forward.

“Nicky, please, let me—”

Nick’s resolve weakens the moment Jolly starts begging, and all he can do is nod rapidly. He doesn’t even get a chance to speak before Jolly’s moving; he lifts up and maneuvers them so quickly that Nick’s head spins when he finds himself face down on the bed, Jolly crowding up behind him. He yanks him up on his knees, pushing his chest into the mattress with a hand to the middle of his back. His fingers slide up to clamp on the back of Nick’s neck, and he leans down close to his ear.

“Your turn to be good for me now.” he mutters.

“Sure, Joll—”

“I thought you were gonna call me something else?” his mouth curves against Nick’s cheek. “C’mon pretty, you were making some big promises earlier.”

Nick laughs weakly, “Right, daddy.”

Jolly gives his neck a squeeze before straightening on his knees, and Nick can feel his hands grabbing onto his hips and pulling him back onto his cock. He moans into the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric for some sort of stability as Jolly rocks forward sharply. He starts to reach down to get a hand on his cock, but before he can, Jolly grabs his wrist and holds it down to the bed, before blanketing his body with his own. His weight pushes Nick’s hips down into the mattress, giving him all the friction on his cock that he needs, and he whines high in his throat.

“Are you close?”

Nick nods desperately. He feels small beneath him, unable to move at all, and he loves it.

“You gonna let me keep fucking you after you come?” Jolly asks. When Nick nods again, pressing his forehead into the bedding, that apparently isn’t good enough for him. He wraps a hand around Nick’s throat, pulling him up. “I need words, pretty.”

Nick doesn’t give him words, Nick comes. It surprises both of them, and Jolly goes still for a moment, gives him time to catch his breath while simultaneously keeping him pinned down in his own mess.  He also doesn’t let go of Nick’s throat, fingers flexing as if curious to what his reaction is going to be now.

“What are you waiting for?” Nick asks, still trying to catch his breath. “Keep going. You can.”

Jolly takes him at his word, keeping him partially lifted so that his back is curved as he rocks back into him at a faster pace than before. The fingers on his neck slide up, over Nick’s lips, and he pulls them into his mouth almost automatically, whining around the digits. He couldn’t offer up a coherent thought right now if someone asked him to, instead squeezing his eyes closed and sliding his tongue around Jolly’s fingers down to his rings.

“Can I come inside you?” Jolly asks suddenly.

Nick blinks his eyes open, rolling them up to look at him over his shoulder. Jolly’s own eyes are wild and burning into him, and he can’t actually tell him yes but he nods frantically, hoping that it’s enough. It must be, because Jolly’s rhythm falters and he gives him a few more sharp thrusts before going still against him.

He doesn’t collapse on top of Nick, instead shakily pulling back, trailing his mouth down his shoulder as he pulls his fingers from Nick’s mouth, reaching down to lace them through his as they both come down. Eventually, it gets to be too much and he moves, pulling out of him slowly and dropping down on the mattress at his side. 

Nick doesn’t hesitate, moving right into his personal space and pressing his lips to his. Jolly kisses him back, tugging on his hand until Nick’s sprawled over his chest.

He’s not even sure how long they stay like that before they drag themselves from the bed and into the shower.

Jolly’s pretty sure they barely leave that bed for the next three days, beyond getting up to eat or go to the bathroom or make sure that no one’s texted them to see if they’re still alive. For the first day, he actually expects to wake up and it all be a dream. He thinks that he’d find Nick out on the dock fishing like nothing had happened. But when he blinks his eyes open that morning and finds Nick tucked against his side, one arm tossed over his hips and his hair in his face as he snores softly, it’s just a relief.

The real world does call them back eventually, in the form of Nicholas reaching out about some festival stuff for the fall. Nick is out on the pier this time while Jolly’s sitting in the tv room trying to finish the book he brought with him, when Nicholas calls. And Jolly half listens, hearing all of the good points about sticking to the idea of postponing everything for the rest of the summer. His attention keeps drifting from his voice on the other end of the line to the window, where he can see Nick making his way back up the path towards the cabin.

“It’s just one show,” Nicholas is saying, and Jolly hears the sliding door open and close before the sound of Nick coming up the stairs. “For now at least, and still far enough away.”

“Yeah, Mayhem sounds good.” Jolly agrees halfheartedly. He probably would have agreed to any show, not really listening.

Nick comes into the room, and seeing that Jolly’s got his phone to his ear gets what he can only describe as devious as he walks over and plants himself right in Jolly’s lap. Nicholas keeps right on talking, oblivious. And maybe Jolly should end the call, but then he starts telling him about how good Noah’s been doing and he doesn’t want to be an asshole.

He looks up at Nick, who’s doing nothing but straddling him and tracing his fingers over the lettering on his shirt, trying to act innocent. His nail polish has chipped more, and for some reason that’s what steals his attention from his phone. He narrows his eyes and Nick gives him a little smile, dimples showing.

“Did I lose you, man?” Nicholas asks. “How’s it going up there?”

Nick’s close enough to him that he can hear the other side of the conversation. They haven’t said anything yet to anyone, wanting to keep it to themselves until they got home. It’s not that Jolly thinks that they’ll have any problem with the two of them, together. Nick seems to sense his hesitation to speak and plucks his phone from his hand.

“I promise we’ll give you all the gossip when we get home. Yes, we. No, I’m not elaborating on that, Nicholas. Why don’t you go take care of your boyfriend, I’m gonna take care of mine.”

Nick hangs up the phone before anything else can be said, dropping it onto the sofa beside Jolly’s leg, giggling to himself when the phone starts vibrating with notifications.

“You are such a fucking brat,” Jolly says fondly.

Shrugging with faux innocence, Nick drapes his arms over his shoulders, leaning his forehead against his, “Maybe. C’mon, let’s go for a swim. We’ve still got time.”

⇉ taglist: @malice-ov-mercy @ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @baddestomens @dominuslunae

@deathblacksmoke @collapsedglasshouses @collidewiththesavannah @thatchickwiththecamera

[diyasgarden]

I always think about how in the Applebees scene where Tashi makes the joke to Art asking if he thought she'd kill herself after the injury, because in all honesty it wouldn't be surprising to think she would. She lost the life she planned for herself that day. I think anyone in her life would be worried for her. Now imagine being her best friend who is in love with her during this time....

No longer a danger to herself or others / She made up her mind and laced up her shoes / Yelled down the hall but nobody answered / So she walked outside without an excuse

You'd be lying if you said she weren't worried. There was always this nagging feeling that something would happen. That you wouldn't be there for Tashi and she'd do something rash she'd never be able to fix. The injury made her erratic, unaspiringly. She tried to push you away, but you'd never leave her. Weeks turned to months and months to a year. It was the end of the semester and it was time to go home. It's a week before you need to leave when you get the call. Her voice confident and strong as she tells you she is going on a road trip. For a moment you feel as if you've stumbled into the past and you're too stunned to answer. She says she's leaving this Saturday, and to come if you want, before hanging up.

She could do anything she wants to / She could do whatever she wants to do / She could go home, but she's not going to

At first you thought she wanted to go on a road trip back to her home, but you were mistaken. She isn't sure where she wants to go, but she knows she wants this. A part of you wants to her it's stupid to just pack your things and drive without a destination, but she's your Tashi. If she wants this, you won't stop her. You'll go with her. Her eyes gleam as you put your things into the car. A hint of determination you used to see in her eyes while she walked on to court. It's not as bright as before, but it's there. You have to bite back the grin that forms as you watch it form. Ever perceptive she notices, raising an eyebrow while looking in your direction. You shrug, as you put the last suitcase in. She rolls her eyes, and that too sends a wave of reassurance through your body. It wasn't the Tashi you'd always known, but it was closer to her than anything you'd seen the past couple of months.

So she picks a direction, it's ninety in Memphis / Turns up the music so thoughts don't intrude / Predictably winds up thinkin' of Elvis / And wonders if he believed songs could come true

She decides on driving towards Memphis. Ambitious considering it's on the other coast, but who are you to say no. You put down the windows and blast music. You both sing along as you both take turns driving. There is no talk of the injury or her lost career, just you and Tashi in the moment. You feel your heart flutter every time you look over to see the wind blowing her hair back.

I'm asking for it if they do / Doesn't know what she wants or what she's gonna do / A rebel without a clue

For the first time since the injury, you heard her talk about the future optimistically. She didn't talk about it like some burden she'd have to live through, but as if she wanted to prepare for it. Be ready for whatever came next. You'd go back and forth discussing what she may do now. Business? Law? Medicine? Deep down, you had a feeling she'd never stray away from tennis. She'd make a great coach and you knew she'd become one soon. You had a feeling she knew this too, but it never stopped these conversations. It was fun to pretend and you'd do it for ever long as she wanted.

So we spent what was left of our serotonin / To chew on our cheeks and stare at the moon / Said she knows she lived through it to get to this moment / Ate a sleeve of saltines on my floor, and I knew then.

The trip is just you driving from city to city, but you never actually make it to Memphis. Not that either of you were surprised or disappointed at that. It was never the goal of the trip. Was there even one? You're unsure but as you spend the day laughing with Tashi in the car and spend nights staring up at the moon with her, it feels like this trip was successful. You feel as if whatever was the goal of the trip has been met. Maybe the goal was just to make her smile. Or make her feel whole again. The thought of those things make you feel whole as well.

I would do anything you want me to / I would do anything for you / I would do anything, I would do anything / Whatever you want me to do, I will do / Whatever she wants, whatever she wants

When you both admit it's time to return to normal life and start the drive back, a peaceful silence overtakes the drive. You feel hopeful for her. You feel good for her. Maybe Tashi would never be the same, but she'd be fine. You could rest easy knowing that. When she thanks you for going on this trip with her, you have to fight the urge to laugh. Doesn't she realize you'd go anywhere she asked? Maybe she doesn't, but you do. You'd do anything Tashi wanted you to. Now and always.

[mcflymemes]

MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS *  collection #12

i'm just trying to figure out stuff.

oh. this is bad news.

don't bother.

you don't know that!

food and sex. those are my two passions.

you don't know my name, do you.

that must have been very hard, losing someone you love like that.

i'm beginning to be very fond of you.

that crap will kill you.

that's a shame.

this is quite a coincidence.

would you care to join me?

you are not a complete idiot.

that's an important part of any relationship.

i never go to funerals. i prefer to remember my friends as i saw them last.

thank you for that.

i sometimes have a silly effect on people.

that's very impressive.

you mustn't take me literally.

why can't people mind their own business?

do you see something wrong?

today was rough.

can i sit in this?

is this about me?

i like spending time with you.

i would love some help.

i really don't care for you much.

don't count on that.

why don't you get settled on the couch, and i'll bring you whatever you need.

i'll tell you how they did that later.

my car's right here.

i always get like this.

does he always wear a suit?

i've been living a lie.

i always liked the circus.

we don't hang out.

i could use some good news.

i can't tell you what a big help you've been.

is there anything that doesn't bore you?

i wouldn't put it past you.

i do a little cooking.

when did you first suspect me?

that can't be possible.

did they love you?

can all of this be true?

now wait a minute.

i was an idiot for giving in.

you and i think the same way. it's amazing.

forgive me for wandering off.

it's almost two o'clock in the morning! what are you doing here?

i do wish people would stop asking me that.

you must never underestimate me.

do you have a picture?

tell me you didn't predict that.

i can't let you get away with it.

i've got my eyes on you.

we're behind you. all of us.

it was a trivial matter.

there's no one i trust more with my life or my death than you.

please give me a hug.

are you sure you want to do that?

i just wanted to ask you a few questions.

i really love my work.

most people want to die in their sleep.

i like the way you wear your hair.

i don't know what you're talking about.

do you understand what i am telling you?

i happen to dress based on my mood.

just remember - it's not a lie if you believe it.

i advise you to do the same.

i couldn't resist trying your pinball machine.

there's just one more thing.

i'm not ready to say goodbye.

whatever it is, make it quick.

just tell me what's going on.

would you dance with me?

when you look annoyed all the time, people think you're busy.