#but previous shots have me making it messy in the first place

[mewkwota]

Now that I've reached a very comfortable point with Juno, I tried a few expression redraws because honestly, this game has a lot of nice sets to choose from (and I want to look at him some more).

[prettymonegasque]

not acceptable

Charles Leclerc x fem!driver! reader

Summary: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do when your pretty boyfriend is a lil dumb

Warnings: Excessive cursing, Lando slander, grown men sharing a single brain cell, fluff?

Word Count: 1.3k

Based on my favourite scene in Schitt’s Creek

In all the two years you’ve been in Ferrari, the speculations and rumours of you dating Charles were non-stop. Neither of you paid much attention to it. You were both in happy relationships. However, that changed in the summer of ‘22 when you broke up with your partner. It wasn’t messy and you both agreed it was for the better. You focused on the rest of the season. 

Fast forward to the summer of ‘23, you and Charles were both single. You decided to give in to the speculations and give the relationship a real shot. You went on a few dates, each one being more fun than the previous one. Yet neither of you took the leap to become exclusive. You both liked each other but it wasn’t said out loud as much as you would’ve wanted to. So when Charles invited you to a game night with his friends, you thought it would be the one where he introduced you as his girlfriend. 

You knocked on his apartment door at 7 pm. You had brought a charcuterie board because you panicked and the first thing your mind thought was cheese. 

“Y/N! Come in.” Charles opened the door and hugged you. You tried your best to return while managing the charcuterie board. He laughed at your struggle, took the board from your hand and led you in. You spotted some familiar faces in the room. “Hey, guys. This is Y/N. My teammate as you know.” To risk being dramatic, the only description for what you felt was “death by a thousand cuts”. You still forced a smile and greeted everyone. You took a seat on the sofa next to Charles. “You brought a charcuterie board?” Pierre asked puzzled. “Dibs on gouda.” Yelled a familiar Brit.

**************

For the next few hours, you forced yourself to forget about your “teammate” and focus on the game instead. To everyone’s surprise, you were very good at Monopoly. You had already collected over $7000 worth of assets. You were more than happy to win by default. Arthur suggested Uno and everyone complied. You had never played it before which made the group very happy. 

When you got your cards you leaned over to Charles and whispered “What the fuck should I do now? ” Charles peeked at your cards and by instinct you shied them away from him. “You have to show me the cards so I can tell you what to do.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and showed him the cards. “How the hell did you get 3 +4 cards?” “Why? Is that bad?” “No no. It is very good and I am very grateful my turn is before you.” “I am gonna crush these motherfuckers” You silently giggled.

“Y/N your turn,” Andrea called out. You placed the +4 card on the table. “Seriously?” Lando sighed and took 4 cards from the deck. “I thought you'd never played this before.” “I haven’t. I’m just that good, Norris.” “You know you could put all the +4 cards at once? ” Charles whispered in your ear. When your turn came again you placed both your +4 cards down. “Oh come on. You’re an absolute ass.” Lando exclaimed. “You just got destroyed by a UNO rookie, Lando” Pierre doubled over in laughter. “Also you have only one card left. You can call out UNO” Arthur nudged you. “UNO!” You yelled. “Well, I guess we have a winner. ” Lorenzo sighed and folded.

You started feeling a little guilty. Your winning spree kept cutting the game short. It didn’t look like anyone was having any fun. Even if Charles isn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend, you still want his friends and brothers to like you as Charles’ girl. Charles brought in Scrabble as his last resort. He wasn’t expecting to go through 2 games so quickly. You were chosen as the judge. You promised yourself to go easy on everyone. You weren’t sure if you were making a good impression on everyone but boy did your ego love this. 

**************

“What do you mean ‘rizz’ isn’t accepted?” Arthur yelled. “Mate it isn’t in the dictionary.” “Then why does everyone call Lando ‘NoRIZZ’?” “Hey!” “I consider it as an acceptable word. We know the meaning. It exists. It’s a word.” You chimed in. “Thank you!” Arthur smiled and added 13 points to himself. The game continued and you limited yourself to simple words. And you accepted every word regardless of how ridiculous it was. 

“Yes Pierre ‘Fuck’ is a word.” 

“I mean we all know what ‘OMG’ is”

“Sure, Charles. You can make Frenglish words.” 

You could physically feel the pain from the insanity of some words but you were on a mission. You nodded and smiled and carried on. The words became chaotic by the minute. Your last straw was when Lando argued that “Skibidi” should be accepted. 

“That’s it. I can’t take this shit anymore. I respect the game too much to put up with this. You are way too old to use the word ‘Skibidi’, Lando.” “Yeah so wrong, Lando” Pierre fakes disappointment. “You! Fuck is not acceptable.” “Not acceptable. Yes sorry, Y/N” He bites back a laugh. “OMG!? Are you kidding me?” “I wasn’t.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “And my boyfriend sits there looking pretty and wanting to make up Frenglish words. THAT’S NOT EVEN A LANGUAGE. NOT ACCEPTABLE!” 

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Charles looked up at you. “I said Lando is old.” You tried to shift the conversation. “Why the fuck am I getting slandered?” “No. I think it was something about your boyfriend being pretty and making up words.” Charles redirects you. “Um... I don’t remember saying that.” You mumbled. “Yeah no. That’s what we heard. Right Arthur?” Pierre snickered. 

“Hey if my girlfriend says Frenglish isn’t acceptable then it isn’t, guys” Charles smirked. “Or it is. I don’t remember saying it.” You shrugged. “So you can do whatever you like.” The ceiling looked much more interesting than the gorgeous green eyes looking at you. “I think our work is done here. Let’s go guys.” Lando stood up. “And what exactly was that work, Norizz?” You called out as everyone was walking out the door chattering. Lando just smiled at you and closed the door. 

You and Charles remained quiet and just looked at each other for a long moment. “I don’t k-” “Do you r-” You both spoke at the same time. Gentle giggles echoed in the silence. “I was gonna ask if you regretted it?” Charles looked at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes. “No. God no. Charles, I don’t regret it at all. But to be honest, I kinda thought you hosted this game night to introduce me as your girlfriend. It sucked ass when you called me your teammate.” You looked down at your feet. You contemplated if sitting down would make this whole shebang less awkward. But Charles quietened your thoughts by standing up and taking your hands in his.

 “Cherie, seconds before you knocked, I was having a full-blown panic attack. I really really like you and I wanted us to be official but I didn’t know what you felt. The guys were there for emotional support because I do not trust myself with any high-risk situation.”

“You drive a car at 300 km/hr almost every weekend.” 

“Please. That is nothing compared to you. Every time I get in the cockpit, I’m more worried about your safety than mine. I was going to introduce you as my girlfriend. Trust me the word was on the tip of my tongue but I was being a pussy and chickened out. I’m so glad you did it tho.” His smile made those adorable dimples pop as he hugged you. “I’m so glad I did it too.” Your voice came out muffled with your cheek pressed against his chest. 

“And I’m so glad you called me pretty.”   

[joelscruff]

wait (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

first and foremost! this is part of my boyfriend's dad!joel series and takes place after "words". this won't really make sense if you haven't read that one! it's so crazy to me how this started out as a silly little smutty drabble and somehow became this. this one's kind of heavy (read the warnings!!) but i promise that things won't stay this angsty forever. at its root this story is supposed to be smutty and fun and i promise there will be more of that in the future. i hope you enjoy it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 summary: it's been a month since your boyfriend discovered your relationship with his father and a month since you've seen joel. it's starting to take its toll. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, sexting, comeplay, angst, allusions to past trauma, shitty family dynamics (addiction & verbal abuse), panic attacks word count: 3.2k

i miss you

it's the only thing you've thought about texting him for about a month, a text you always type out and then erase a few moments later. it's something you swore to yourself that you wouldn't do no matter how lonely you got. he'd said he needed time, and you want to give it to him. and yet here you are, leaning against the window of your bus home from community college with tears in your eyes, phone in hand, wanting nothing more than to see him. selfish.

it's been one of the loneliest periods of your life. you've known loneliness, felt it throughout most of your childhood, through your adolescence, it's nothing new. but with joel you'd finally begun to feel whole again, like you actually mattered to someone. he looked forward to seeing you, to holding you, being with you. you'd never felt so desired and loved and protected in your whole life.

now you're back to having nothing, no one. it's a harsh reality you're forcing yourself to accept. you still haven't heard anything from your boyfriend - now ex, of course, though there was never any official breakup - and even that's a punch to the gut, an added depth to a loss that you caused.

he's hurting, i hurt him, joel's words repeat in your head. it breaks your heart that he's feeling so guilty, that he feels that he caused this entire thing when it's really your fault. if you weren't such a mess of a person, such a broken human being, the whole thing wouldn't have even happened to begin with. what kind of person sleeps with their boyfriend's father? starts a relationship with him? calls him daddy?

you know you caused this and yet you can't help but miss him so much. it's like he's ingrained himself into your bones somehow, his touch tattooed into your skin. he's all you think about, dream about. you miss being in his embrace, being held by him, whispering daddy in his ear and feeling understood, not judged. you miss his gentle kisses to your nose, the safety of his lap, his arms around your trembling form while he fucked you, took you, made you his.

you stare at the unsent text message and inevitably find yourself scrolling back up to a previous conversation from a few months back, short and simple. texting was never a frequent medium for the two of you, more-so used for you to send him dirty pictures every so often to tease him a bit. you briefly look at the picture, a close-up shot of your bare pussy with some of his come leaking out; absolutely filthy.

still have u inside me daddy

oh baby, so messy. what am I gonna do with you?

you smile at the silliness of it all, the filthiness, but it quickly fades when you remember the reality of the situation again, the fact that your boyfriend had read joel's messages, had definitely seen these texts in particular. he'd called joel a sick man. you don't agree, but you can understand why; if you'd seen a text interaction like this between your own father and a girl half his age... you'd probably have a similar reaction - though the concept of your father showing a woman any affection in the first place is alien in itself.

your bus pulls up to the stop near your house and you get off, slipping your phone back into your pocket and hiking your backpack over your shoulder as you go. it's only a short walk to your house, no more than three minutes, though you usually try to make it a bit longer to delay the inevitable disaster of your home life.

you take it one step at a time, slowly walking down the darkening street with fresh tears in your eyes. god, you're so lonely. you don't want to go home, don't want to be accosted by your alcoholic father and avoidant mother, your asshole brother who never gives you a break. it's so damn depressing in that house; when you'd first gotten together with your boyfriend you'd been so relieved to finally have somewhere else to go that wasn't school or home, another reason you'd stayed with him for so long despite the relationship being doomed. you should have known it couldn't last.

you'd told joel everything. it's hard to believe sometimes that the connection you shared was strong enough for you to trust him with some of your darkest secrets, the worst things from your past. he knows all about your family, all about what you've been through, had listened to you quietly and earnestly as you cried into his shoulder about the hand life had dealt you. he'd rubbed your back, kissed your forehead, whispered it's okay, and i'm here now, and i'm gonna take care of you, sweetheart. and he did. he did take care of you. he'd done everything right and somehow you still managed to fuck it up.

the lights are on in the house when you arrive at the front gate, though the car is missing from the driveway; this only means that your mother is out late tonight, probably staying with a friend or a lover or whoever she turns to when shit gets bad. you can't blame her - you'd done the exact same thing when you'd actually had somewhere to go - but part of you still aches for that little girl inside you that needs her, wishes she was inside waiting for you, though it's not like she'd do much to help.

your father is definitely home, probably your brother as well. you stand at the gate, gripping the strap of your backpack and deliberating even bothering to go inside. you know you'll be accosted at the front door by either a drunken tirade or bitter argument. it's a no-win situation no matter how you look at it. your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, grateful for one last brief distraction.

i miss you too, angel. so much.

your eyes go wide, heart stuttering in your chest as you stare at the words.

"fuck," you breathe, "fuck, fuck fuck," you quickly scroll up to confirm your fears - the i miss you text, the one you always erase, the one you make sure to never send - you'd somehow sent it this time, entirely by mistake.

tears are stinging your eyes as you turn on the spot and start walking back and forth in front of your house, running your hand through your hair in disbelief while you stare at joel's text. you fucking idiot. what the fuck have you done? what happened to giving him space? you stupid fucking bitch. you absolute loser. you're suddenly berating yourself the exact same way you know your father and brother will berate you if you go in the house now. you can already picture it - them seeing your tear stained cheeks, the puffiness of your eyes, the words they'll throw at you to hurt you even more, make you feel small.

fucking bitch. fucking loser. fucking idiot.

your breathing is becoming more and more erratic the longer you pace. you can't go in now, not after this, not after seeing that he misses you too and being so fucking close yet so far away. all you can suddenly think about is all those wasted moments at his house, spending so much time with your asshole boyfriend when you could have been with joel, been loved instead of tossed aside like garbage.

god, if you could only hear his voice. if you could just talk to him for one minute before you have to go into this godforsaken hellhole.

before you even fully understand what you're doing, you're hitting the call button and bringing the phone up to your ear.

he answers on the first ring.

"h-"

"i can't do this anymore," you gasp out through a sob, not even bothering to let him say anything, "joel, i can't do it, i miss you so fucking much it hurts."

"babygirl," he breathes, voice rough and deep and gorgeous and familiar, sweet like honey in your ear, "where are you? are you okay?"

and that's enough to break you.

you feel the tears begin to stream down your face, hot and unrelenting. you shake your head even though he can't see you, throat bobbing through repetitive gasps, "no, i'm not okay," you blubber, "da- fuck, joel, i- i can't do this, i can't be by myself anymore. i'm - " you don't even know where this is coming from, voice muddled, "i'm so lonely. i can't do it anymore, i can't. please, i can't."

he makes a devastating sound at your words, something between a sob and a gasp, "where are you?" he repeats, voice full of concern, "where are you, baby? i'm gonna come get you."

"the bus stop by my house," you manage to tell him through your tears, reaching the little bench and situating yourself on it without an ounce of hesitation, "i was- i was gonna go home but," another sob rips through your throat, "but they're home and i- i can't- i can't take it anymore, joel. i don't wanna be there anymore, i can't be there."

"you stay where you are, you hear me?" you can hear movement on the other line, the rattle of keys, footsteps, "don't go home, babygirl, i'm comin'. i'll be there in ten minutes."

"okay," you whisper, trying to catch your breath, "okay."

"deep breaths, baby, remember?" and you do remember; he'd taught you some exercises to help in situations like this, when you feel like the world is falling apart around you and you're just getting smaller and smaller, disappearing into nothingness. he'd held your hands while you'd sat in his lap, eyes closed as you both matched each other's breathing, melted into one another. "in and out, babygirl, that's it. real slow, count for me."

"i r-remember," you manage to hiccup, squeezing your chest with your other hand and trying to ground yourself.

the wait is excruciating, no matter how short, and no matter the fact that joel is on the other end trying to calm you. you sit on the bench with a hand on your heart and the other on your stomach, listening to joel count to five over and over, phone upturned on your thigh.

"big breath in. one...two...three...four...five," he says through the muffled sounds of traffic and wind, "big breath out. one...two...three...four...five." over and over and over again, "i'm turnin' the corner, baby, i'm almost there," he says after about ten minutes of this, "you see me, honey?"

you look up to find his headlights, getting brighter and brighter as they approach. you shakily sit up from the bench, breath coming out much less erratic now, "y-yes," you whisper.

seconds later the car is pulling up in front of you and he's jumping out, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as he dashes around it. it's been so long since you've seen him that it's jarring to suddenly have him in front of you, sprinting toward your small and shaking form with his jacket undone, shoes mismatched, glasses askew. you catch a glimpse of his expression, concerned and upset - are those tears? - before he scoops you up into his arms and pulls you in close to him.

"i'm here," he tells you, voice rumbling through his chest against your cheek, solid and warm, "i'm here now, babygirl, you're okay. you're okay."

and somehow you are.

--

"i'm sorry," is all you can say to him as he drives you to his house, hand holding yours tightly the whole way, "i'm such an idiot, i'm so sorry."

"stop saying that," he repeats for maybe the fourth time, shaking his head and squeezing your hand even more firmly, "you're not an idiot and you have nothing to be sorry about."

you really are okay now, breaths calm and tears not even flowing anymore. instead the guilt and shame and humiliation have taken over, sinking into your skin as you lean back in the passenger seat with your hood pulled up, hiding your face from him.

"i was giving you space," you mutter, "i didn't even mean to text you, it was an accident. i was being stupid, as usual."

"stop it," he says again, "stop being mean to yourself."

you close your eyes and face away from him, "easier said than done."

the two of you drive in silence for a few moments, that is until he asks, "have you eaten?" and you say, "no."

he buys you mcdonalds and doesn't let go of your hand.

--

the house hasn't changed. you hadn't really expected it to; it's not like it's been that long since you were last here. you don't bother even sneaking a peek at your ex boyfriend's bedroom as joel leads you upstairs, curiosity nonexistent.

you're not sure why you expect him to take you into his office, maybe sit on the couch with you and talk. to your surprise he leads you straight past the door, down the hallway to what you can only assume is his bedroom - a place you've never been in all your months of being with him.

"sit down," he tells you softly as he opens the door, pulling you slowly inside and nodding toward the queen sized bed, "i'll get you something to wear."

"okay," you breathe, barely looking at him as you examine the room in front of you, large but cozy, cool colors but a warm atmosphere, framed music posters and blueprints covering the walls - exactly what you'd expect from someone like joel. you shuffle forward and drop your bag at the end of his bed, sitting on the edge of it while he goes to his dresser.

you end up in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of his underwear, loving the feeling of being his again, even if neither of you have actually talked about what exactly this means for your relationship. he helps you change, tugging off your worn-out jeans and the same shirt you've worn for three days in a row, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls off your panties and replaces them with his boxers. it's not sexual, but part of you still longs to pull him on top of you, just feel his weight, smell his cologne.

he pulls back the duvet and helps you climb inside onto your stomach, rubbing your arms and shoulders and releasing some of the tension you've been feeling for the past month. you feel him press another kiss to the back of your neck, pushing your hair out of the way and stroking it gently, giving you all the care and attention you've been aching for. his hands are so big, so comforting and safe, touching you everywhere without any expectations or underlying motive.

"i missed you, daddy," you whisper against his pillow, not sure if he can even hear you, even more unsure whether it's okay to use that word anymore.

he doesn't reply right away, still kneading his thumbs into the base of your back and massaging you gently. you hear him inhale and exhale deeply a few times, like he's biding time while he figures out what to say.

"sorry," you wince, "joel."

he releases you then, helps you turn over so you're on your back and peering up at him with uncertainty. he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches down to thumb your cheek, eyes sad and tired.

"i wanna be that for you, sweetheart," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "i do. i want it more than you even realize," he takes a breath, biting down on his lip briefly, "i just... i need you to tell me somethin'. be honest with me now."

your heart skips a beat, "what?"

"when you said you loved me..." his voice breaks a bit and you ache to reach for him, cup his cheek and hold him close, "was it because of what we've been doin'?" he seems to reassess his words, shaking his head slightly, "i mean, did it...did you actually mean it? or was it... was it just part of the game?"

you stare at him for a few seconds, lips parting and eyes going slightly wide. without a second thought you do exactly what you'd just been thinking about, reaching up to place your hand against his face, feeling his scruff beneath your palm. he leans in and takes a breath, peering into your eyes with a yearning you can't describe, can only feel.

you shake your head slowly, "joel," you whisper, "it's never been a game."

his eyes close, stuttering out another breath when your thumb strokes his cheek soothingly. unable to hold back anymore, you lean up to capture his mouth in a soft kiss, sweet and tender and familiar. his hand finds the back of your head, pulls you closer, claims you again.

he fucks you slow.

it's never been like this, never has he fucked you the way he fucks you now. you barely speak, just moan and whimper and sigh and melt into each other the way you've never truly been able to, not without prying ears and a time limit hanging over your heads. your hands tangle in his hair while he hits that deep spot inside you, holds you close, buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, pounds into you relentlessly like you'll both come apart at the seams if he lets go.

you're biting it back, trying not to say it as much as you desperately want to, still unsure if this is really want he wants. just tell me what to do and i'll do it. i don't care, i'm yours. he looks into your eyes and you can't help but start crying again, overwhelmed by the warmth of him, the safety. he thumbs your tears and kisses them away.

"say it," he murmurs to you as you both near your inevitable release, the tension building and building as he grabs your face with both hands and fucks you with purpose, with passion, "say it, babygirl, tell me."

you shake your head, suddenly self conscious, suddenly afraid. the feelings from earlier tonight rise back in your chest, making a home in the back of your throat as a sob threatens to rip through it.

"it's okay," he whispers, voice trembling with the speed of his thrusts, "it's okay, honey, i wanna hear you say it," he furrows his brow and releases a groan, so close to the edge, "please, baby, say it. need you to say it."

you pull him close, grip his back, press your lips to his ear, "daddy."

he groans, dark and rough, "that's it," he murmurs, "that's it baby, i'm your daddy. that's right." he pulls back to look at you, eyes meeting yours in a passionate gaze that lasts forever, "say it again."

"daddy," you whine, unable to unlock your eyes from his, lip trembling as you submit entirely to him, "feels so good, daddy."

there's something in his expression you can't place, something in his words that reverberates in your brain like a pinball. say it again... you realize it means more than you'd initially thought. he's not just asking you to say one word - he's asking for three.

"i love you," you cry out just as he presses his thumb to your clit, pushes you over the edge, "i love you."

he comes just as you do, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as your fingers scramble for purchase at his back, holding him impossibly close to the point where his entire body weight is on top of you, but you don't care. all you can feel is the way his heart beats against your chest, the way his gasps match yours, finding the same rhythm.

you lay there still for what feels like eternity, joel laying on top of you with his cock still deep inside and his forehead pressed against your shoulder. your tears have stopped but you feel the dampness of his own on your skin, hear the gasp he lets out as he sets his emotions free.

"i love you too," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and quick, voice wrecked, "god, i love you so much."

for the first time, you stay the night.

[riewritten]

FOR ALL THAT WAS DEPRIVED

ERWIN SMITH X FEM!READER, ERWIN SMITH X YOU, NO Y/N

TAGS: canon AU, porn without plot (proceed with caution!), lots of fucking?, yearning (like feral yearning), fluff & smut, cunnilingus, multiple positions, cumshot (hehe), missionary, cowgirl, love marks, feral feral feral gentleman in heat idk!, gentle erwin smith or so he planned because well... u are just so lovely! is it his fault that he had always wanted u so carnally just as he wanted to shower you with love? no, not at all :)

WORDS: 4.3k (yes it was fucking long for a pwp fic. but i was nervous back then ok.)

thought of sharing the first ever smut i've ever written. like the first of firsts. if u perhaps knew where i made this then shh. it's our dirty little secret.

"Bed, please. Let's take this to bed."

He showered your face with wet kisses and nibbled your lower ear as if to reward you for shamelessly unveiling your long-standing desperation. "You'll let me take care of you there? Hm?"

"Yes," you writhed under him, breathless, hot, ticklish, among many other feelings caused by his smothering of love, "yes I will, please?"

You don’t even need to beg but he's still disgustingly gratified hearing that. He grabbed your hips and ushered you up so he could carry you all the way. You clung to him just well, thigh wrapped around him and your arms hugging his neck tightly. He ended up throwing you on the bed quite harshly that he got taken aback himself. You chortled as he leaned his weight on top of you, cupped your head with both hands, then muttered soft apologies.

"How rare it is to see you lose your cool, Commander."

"Tch, you have no idea how patient I am being until now," Erwin chuckled, slightly ashamed. As swift as ever, his face turned serious with a command. "Clothes. Off."

So you did, albeit in a rush. His voice sounded like an order and you’re secretly drawn to it even if you don’t like being commanded by him on a daily basis. He might also flaunt his existing patience but you don't have any of it left in you. You unclasped your bra along the way then urgently raised his shirt up to make this faster. He followed suit with amusement, and the sight of his bare body made you shiver. He looks like a sculpture.

"How rare it is to see you lose your cool," he shot back.

"Savor what you did to me, Commander," you muttered in annoyance as you attempted to remove his pants. He helped you through it. Leaving his boxers alone, he gave you a sweet smile as if taking pride in what you just said then pushed you down for a messy kiss again. You let out a breathy moan as soon as his fingers brushed on your now hardened nipples. Placed wet kisses on your neck down until he reached your chest, gave a peck on your sternum, and glided his tongue on your left tit while playing with the other one.

He was successful, really. You've barely even started yet your subtle hums are overflowing already just like how he wanted. For you, however, it was quite frustrating. You were never this sensitive towards your previous partners. Even if it's quite a given since you never established emotional attachment towards them, you only did this kind of thing because you heard how it could satiate emptiness temporarily. Needless to say, it wasn't effective, and what you're doing right now is way far from that agenda. Now you realize why you're overly and easily flustered with this matter when Erwin's in the picture.

He noticed you're trying to tone it down so kept up with it. With your nipple popping out of his mouth, he slid his hand towards your clothed core and released a pleased hum upon feeling how wet it was already. It went on for a while until you got desperate to hump yourself with his digits.

"Finally not shy now?" he cooed, rubbing it in teasing motions.

"Erwin," you moaned, cupping his cheek messily. Your body is finally getting something deprived of it for very, very long, and you're not in the mood to tease around. "I've been–I–" he encouraged you to say more by showering your chest with wet kisses, "I feel like I've been waiting for more than a lifetime for this. Please–" Then his eyes shot open at the desperation, quite enthralled that you felt just the way he did. "Mhm, you are too, right? So could you please take me now?"

Right, you are. His mind then throbbed in satisfaction. His cold fingers slid to your core swiftly, gently, and maintained the motion for a while; eager to give you whatever you want if not more.

Out of all the years he had lived this life, this was one moment he felt genuinely happy he existed. And you deserve everything for making him feel like that.

All of a sudden, he withdrew his fingers from your heat and you looked down in confusion. But then he quickly, and almost harshly, dragged down all the garments left in your body. You're now bare before him but unlike earlier, you're not in any way shy. You want to receive everything he’s willing to give. With a pleading look, you weakly asked him to come back to his work.

Erwin slowly crawled above you again; tapping his finger on your clit, "How do you want me to do this tonight?" Even if it sounded playful in some way, it was a genuine question.

Assuming he's messing around, you whined in frustration. "Seriously, I want to be fucked dumb tonight. Don't make me point out obvious things, Erwin."

It made him laugh. He leaned in to kiss your forehead and inserted his middle finger inside, "No, it was an honest question. I want to make this good for you."

"But you make everything feel good," you murmured, relishing the feeling of being stretched inside. His digits are broad after all.

You urged him to go on, hence he continuously motioned hither inside you while his thumb skillfully played around your clit. Relishing the pleasure and willing to welcome more, you played on your nipples messily. When the slicking sounds became louder he inserted the second one and rolled the digits in circular motions. Apart from how good he’s doing you, he’s actually quite nervous himself. Perhaps he might do it too hard, or you might’ve experienced something way better before, and all sorts of reluctance. But your reactions – voice quivering, hips stuttering, your back arching – filled him with such a warm, trembling feeling and he was immensely drunk to it. 

After a while, he stopped, knelt up, and looked at the sinful mess he's made out of you with. It’s needless to say that you were down for good. The sight was glorious for him, utterly. When you thought he was about to finally let himself bare, he held on to your hips instead and raised that up to push it towards you. As he leaned down, he wrapped your legs on his shoulders and settled himself in between your legs. 

Delving his tongue into you and tasting your wetness, he let out a gratified grunt. He brought back his wonders with his fingers as he lapped you up all the while maintaining eye contact; eager to see how you’d take him as he ravished you the way he imagined it. Your hands messily gripped everything – his pillows, mattress, even your hair – and eventually tightened your legs around him to buck on his tongue.

As he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers and your release hanging on the precipice, his motion sped up while his spare hand rested on your abdomen.

“That’s it–hah, please don’t stop–” you stuttered, your moans in crescendo; and he hummed through it just well, encouraging you to come. Not too long after, you grabbed onto his head to bury him below, making him breathe momentarily the least of your concerns. With your back arching and muttering helpless mewls of his name, you came undone.

He rode through your orgasm, continuously lapping on you until you tapped on his head, “Too much, ‘s too much. Please, ‘Win."

You heard him chuckle before letting go; nibbling on your inner thigh for a moment with a smug look on his face as if to say I did that. Only I could. When he knelt back again he let out a satisfied sigh, wiped up his face coated with your fluid, and sucked on the fingers he just used to ravage you. He licked it clean, deliberately swirling his tongue for you to see. Despite the crippling fluster, you weren't able to look away, you're rather getting wet over it instead.

His fingers left his mouth with a soft pop, “Tastes good."

The embarrassment came back to you but you’re still aching to have more. “Come here,” you pleaded and he immediately complied, cupping your face gently. He held you like you're his dearest person in this hell of a world, and you have no idea how could his touches say that much.

However, when you thought he was going for a kiss, he tapped his digits on your mouth instead, “Open.” Another stern order that you followed very willingly. He pushed his index and middle fingers past your mouth and you welcomed it by sucking on them, appeased by what he just did to you. You almost choked on it as he thrust his fingers full on your throat. Still, you hollow your cheeks on it, licking every spot fervently and humming with pleasure to rile him up. “Yeah, that's right," he purred. "Such a good lady for me.” He then suddenly replaced his fingers with his tongue, relishing your mouth and eager to prove to you how good you really tasted.

When he withdrew from the messy lip play, you blurted out, “Can you praise me again?”

You quickly realized what you just said and how you said it. What was that? You almost laughed at yourself.

Erwin raised his brows and snickered, “Am I not praising you enough?”

You stayed silent even after he peppered you with kisses, seemingly holding your squeal of shame.

"Getting shy again, hm? Talk to me, pretty girl.”

“Don’t know where it came from. My mind’s in shambles. Thank you for fucking me dumb tonight.”

“But I’m not doing that yet,” he let it out very endearingly, in stark contrast with his eyes lacing with mischievous glint. His finger flicked on your clit again. “This won’t be settled with this, don’t you think? You’ve waited more than a lifetime, after all.” Such a menacing smile and so you realized: Right, I might be knocked unconscious tonight. He motioned his digits in circular motions.

“I, uh–“ To lessen your stuttering, you gripped his shoulders instead. "I actually said that out of a whim. I never got this sensitive over someone before," you let out a breathy sigh. "My body’s reacting to you differently, Erwin. Am I the only one who feels like this?”

“No,” he landed a wet kiss on your neck, sucked on it, and released it like a pop. That would indeed mark. “But I don't just feel like it, and I believe I waited longer."

You were relieved, “Since when?”

“Since you entered the regiment and introduced yourself to me,” he abruptly inserted his finger inside your cunt then rolled it inside, “–that smile.”

“Fuck, god–” you shuddered, “t–that long?”

“Yeah, that long. I was just a jerk.”

“Better late than never but if you’re not doing that yet, then please do it now."

His heart swelled. This was more than enough, indeed. You might be time-deprived to explore this intimacy, have excruciating dilemmas that could break you off, tons of predicament perceived as a threat, and anguish that are not very easy to handle. Amidst all, your love and desperation overpowered the worries. You broke off every single wall Erwin had built for decades. You broke it off by loving him in way that's longer than your life could ever be.

He removed his digit inside and then made his way to remove the garment left in him, “You’re shifting from ashamed to blunt, pretty thing. Choose one.”

“I really am choosing to be blunt. I just get hit by it from time to time," you sat up to help him. "But okay, to project the boldness again–" but were cut off when he laughed loudly. Shooting him a glare you exclaimed, "Shut up!"

Erwin, despite the struggle to tone down, doesn't want you to feel shy for the rest of the night, "Okay, continue." 

You dragged his boxers down impatiently and whined, “I want your dick inside me. Frantically ruin me until I knock out. Please.”

He was taken aback, he'll give you that, yet it was completely effective. His arousal spiked up way more than earlier.

When he finally got rid of his garment and his protuberance was completely shown before you, you started to doubt if you actually said the right thing. That would really ruin me. Sensing your reluctance just well, he gently laid you down again and raised your legs so he could line himself up.

"You’re not just blunt, you’re getting braver as well. But now that you told me to ruin you, why do you look like hesitating instead?” he taunted, sliding his dick up and down your wetness.

Heat pooled in your lower back, “I’m not. I–” you thrust up to have more friction, “I trust you. You’ll do me well, right?”

“I will,” he concurred sweetly and motioned nearer to you. Cupping your cheeks, he whispered. “Breathe deeply, love.” So you did, and he slowly pushed himself in. Gently, inch by inch, studying your face all throughout. You were whimpering in pain, closing your eyes tight upon feeling the sharp sting, and he’s peppering you with gentle kisses for comfort.

He’s not bottomed out yet you’re already close to crying. Still, you tried. You don’t want to stop. You don’t want him to feel like he’s doing badly. You don’t want to– 

 “‘S okay, ‘s okay. Relax.” he cut your rampant thoughts off with his coos. “I’ll make it fit. Just keep on breathing deeply, okay?”

You clung to his shoulder, letting out your mewls, “I’m sorry, I… don’t want you to think we should stop–”

“We won’t," he nuzzled his lips through your hair, “Unless you tell me so–ah, that’s it, you’re doing great.” then sighed, completely sunk down inside you. He let you get used to the feeling first, just looking at you tenderly without moving. His thumb circled on your clit again to make the process bearable, and eventually, pleasurable. After a while, you opened your eyes again with a smile and small thanks, “Please move.”

Erwin did and he muttered little curses under his breath. You’re tightly squeezing on him and he had to grip his free hand on the mattress to have a sense of control. He was quite overwhelmed. Your scent, tiny sighs, the look of affection, and the way you’re being gorgeously considerate of him – he’s on the precipice of losing control, one more sensation then he’ll admit that both of you will be staying on this bed forever. He tried to speak little praises and comfort to you instead so he could distract himself but you started bucking your hips up.

Fuck.

His train of thought was utterly shaken that he only managed to let out strained hisses. Noting his sounds of pleasure, you reached his ear; sucking, nibbling, licking around, and he almost lost it. He needs to take you slowly but he’s losing it. Erwin almost laughed at himself.

“Am I doing great?” you asked as you finally earned a steady pace in rocking and thrusting. When he wasn’t able to answer, you withdrew your mouth to his ear, turned up to him, and cupped his cheeks, “Am I?” you repeated, searching for reactions.

Erwin mentally shook his head, finally admitting defeat to his sense of control and the tightening of his muscles. He gripped your hips and thrust hard, making you suck in a sharp breath. “Doing so well,” he lowly grunted then set the pace unrelentingly fast, almost lacking mercy, “–my prettiest soldier.” His digits played harsher on your clit.

That’s it, 

That’s it. 

You let out drawn-out moans and silly whispers. When the pleasure blurred your thoughts to even mind shame, you brought his head to your breast, urging him to trace his tongue on it. He sucked on it with pleasure, and the thumb that was swirling on your clit slid to the other nipple instead. Your instincts are drumming in your ears as his rhythm picks up. The way he’s massaging your inner walls with every thrust of his dick and the lewd slapping sounds of skin that comes along was making your head dissolve into oblivion.

Erwin was so immersed in it that he looked down to see the tainted mess himself. He grabbed your hand and landed it on your lower stomach, “Feel that?” he drawled as he continued pounding. You felt his cock marking it whenever he pushed inside. And as your mind was too fuzzy to even answer, you nodded relentlessly. “Is this what you waited for? Hm? Tell me, love.” His taunting etched every enjoyment he has in the sight of you too dumbed out to answer. 

As he felt himself reaching his peak, he pressed on your lower stomach to urge the coil in you to come out. And there it comes, you’re clenching harder than ever, thrashing around his length.

"Tight—hah—fuck, love," he rasped, "l-look at you, taking me in so–mhm—so nicely."

He was getting delirious, too, whispering sweet nothings; how good this is, how tight you are, how he's finally having all of you for himself. Your sounds are getting more and more obscene too, moaning a mixture of curse words and his name that he can't help but indulge himself through and give you more.

He lurches, continuously pounding and pounding until you’re trembling, milking on him for what he’s worth. He eventually pulled out, shooting his seed into your abdomen.

Then he dropped down. Fucked out. Leaning his weight into you with a sigh. He was too heavy that it could almost be classified as crushing you into pulp. The position went on for a while and instead of asking him to let you breathe, you start laughing at the sudden memory instead.

“Why?” he asked, his voice hushed and raspy. He’s nuzzled in your neck now, mindlessly nibbling on it.

“Isabel told me this a long time ago,” you giggled, "I feel guilty for remembering her this way."

"Bless her soul," Erwin chuckled, "but go on, what did she say?"

"That you could crush me into pulp if you wanted to. I told her I don’t think you’d want that but here you are.”

“Oh. Sorry.” he slightly got up and leaned on his elbows for support instead. “But why would she say that?”

“Because your build was intimidating,”

“Ah, that...” Isabel mocked him for his huge build plenty of times when she was still alive. Amidst her disdain, Erwin remembers her kindly. He scooted to lie down beside you, then brought your body to his embrace, “Were you intimidated as well?”

“I’m too engrossed avoiding your presence to mind how huge you are," you pondered, “but now I realized it was actually a good thing. I’d even thank you if you cracked my head with your muscles now.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m not kidding. Want me to tell you more?”

“No," he was holding a laugh.

“But it’s hot–”

“Stop.” 

“Actually it goes like thi–” he silenced you with a kiss and you chuckled through it. It went on for a while until he’s sure you're really shutting up. He nestled you further to him and both of you were silent for a while. “I was about to suggest we wash up but I kind of want to keep going.”

You were actually about to say that and his remark made you more courageous so you blurted out, “Can I ride you?”

He stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed, then turned to you to see if you were actually kidding around, only to laugh in defeat at your dead serious face. Just like that and he’s aroused again.

“Have I said it too weird?”

“No, but why would you want that?”

You ignored his question, “So is it okay or not?”

“Of course, but it'd be quite a work. Why won't you let me take care—oh!” you cut him off by getting up and sitting on his abdomen.

“Sit down," you beckoned him through your fingers.

The sight of you channeling dominance was completely amusing to him, to say the least, so he ticked his eyebrows and followed suit, “What do you want to do?”

“Revenge.”

Erwin almost snorted at that but you cut him off with a sloppy kiss.  It’s now quite gentler than earlier and even if he wants to crush you down the bed again, he let you have it your way this time. Erwin can feel your wetness dripping on him, and you can feel his hard-on standing on your back. You released a breathy sigh, trying to rub your slickness on him. To make the position comfortable, he withdrew from the kiss and moved backward.

“I may not know what you’re avenging for but my pretty girl can get whatever she wants," he leaned against the headboard. “Show me how it’s done.”

“It’s for always–” you lined him up to your entrance, “–ordering me around.”

Then bounced down on him abruptly, swallowing him in warmth. He bit back a moan and you got your pretty little noises as well, very much satisfied with how he’s stretching you full again. You tried to gauge his reactions at first, languidly riding him down, rolling your hips in experimental paces, and relishing how he looked at you – lidded, flushed, with a small smirk.

In the middle of it, however, something daunted you; you don't have much experience with this. He seemed to have lots given how well he did you earlier but you don’t. Erwin sensed the jittery so he grabbed your figure much nearer to him, “Why?”

You gave him a sheepish chuckle, “My confidence slipped away." When you thought he’d laugh at it like earlier, his face immediately softened and gave you an understanding hum instead.

“Poor girl, what’s on your mind?”

“I’m just not used to doing this thing passionately,” Nevertheless, you continued the rhythmic bucks—taking him in and out, gripping in his shoulders, holding back whimpers. Tremors of pleasure teemed Erwin's body, all of it getting too good to handle, “B-but I want to take care of you as well– that kind of thing.”

“But you’re doing it so well,” he doted, slowly nuzzling his lips on the sides of your face, nibbling your ears, patching up your neck with more bites as if to flaunt how he’s taken you for his own. He really can’t get enough, and the way you’re telling him so adorably how you want to be good for him satisfied a darker side of his psyche. He gripped your hips very tightly, intentionally having it to mark, and jerked his hips upwards to help you take him.

All his reluctance about not meeting your desires disappeared to shreds as he remembered; you’re here, on your own accord, even after seeing the monster that he could be. If you would go to him keeping in mind all the deplorable sins he had done then you had given yourself over. Drawn, bound together, and pleasures to be consumed by him. Mine. It throbbed in his head, repeatedly so, for he was very gratified.

He headily reached for your face, brought your lips into his, and relished the realization desperately; hoping you’d realize it as well. As the swirls of your tongues slipped your minds towards oblivion, his thrusts became more unrestrained and feral. He needed to feel more, needed to hear more.

He called your name, “Louder. Have everyone hear how well I'm taking you.”

It was yet another stern, or perhaps desperate, command. And so you did, not like you have any choice. It feels too good and you’re disgustingly drunk on the slick sounds of your heat as you ride him down. “My good girl, yeah, just like that.”

After a while of letting your bodies do the act for yourselves – what was yearned from the things left undone – you’re coming again. And his drawn-out moans, grunts, and words of praises told you he’s the same. He mercilessly rutted, fucked up your cunt, until your walls fluttered around his cock for the second time. As you reached your climax, he abruptly got himself out of you and came again. His seed was all over you: stomach, chest, some of it was even shot to your face.

He let out a dark chuckle at the sight. He was able to savor you completely. Now you lay in front of him, being the utterly divine art that you are. Completely messed up. By him. Alone. Nobody else could. In this world and even beyond.

You gave him a shy, tired yet satisfied smile and he slid his fingers to your face to wipe it himself.

“That was so good," he whispered, your foreheads bumping against each other.

“Heh, heh. Took you so well, didn’t I?”

"Very much so." The cheeky grin warmed Erwin up even more, so he kissed your forehead before ushering you up.

“Aren’t you tired?” you whined and laid down on the bed. Of course, you wanted to clean up, but you came three times and you’re minutes away from sleeping the night.

“I could still go on if we stay tied there, uncleaned," he sat up on the corner of the bed and massaged your sore limbs. He glided his fingers on the marks, guilty for making it too hard, “Sorry.” He scooted and gave it a peck.

You showed him your neck, full of his bites, “This,” then examined your chest only to see another one on the side of your left breast, “When was this?” you glared at it. Then pointed to the one he’s holding on to your hips, “And this," you ruffled his hair. “This could be decades-worth of pining! All because some commander decided to be a full-on jerk.”

"I know.”

He remained in his position for a while just looking at you in the eyes. The smile was quite a sad one, almost mournful, but you maintained the tender look on your face. After a while, he slid his hand to cup your cheek with his thumb playing on it, “Are you up for another round?” he smiled endearingly.

“What the heck is up with your stamina?” you scoffed but still tried to assess whether you could or not. Maybe you could, it’s Erwin after all.

“I’m just kidding," he pinched your cheek and then stood up. “Let’s clean up. My room smells too good right now. One more sniff and we'll stay on this bed making love until we die.”

“Your room should get used to it," you replied, realizing you’re actually feeling sore and it’s quite difficult to stand now. Erwin knew it so he spent time fixing your baths first.

Carrying you there himself, he replied, “Yeah. You should get used to it too.”

🔖@collinnmckinley @frenchdyer @aeanya @xiaotopia @watyousayin | SUBSCRIBE TO STORIES

[itgetsdark-x]

I have a request for Joel x reader where the reader has never been in a relationship where her orgasm was important to her partners so Joel makes it a mission to make her cum as many times as possible 👀

Oh anon, sweet anon I couldn’t turn down this request if I tried. I just know Joel would wanna satisfy his partner in bed as many times as he wanted to. I just 🧎🏻‍♀️ I hope you like it, I kinda rushed it a little as I was too excited to write it but yeah! Thanks for the request <3 I’m gonna go and hide now <3

Warnings: 18+, please it’s just smut. Oral (f receiving), mild breeding kink if you squint a little, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it, be sensible), use of good / little girl a lot, age gap (reader is mid - late twenties, Joel would be older but not explicitly stated), roughly follows the game / show but not at all lol cause the timeline is way off

Summary: Joel knew you had been left frustrated by your previous partners and well, when he heard you moan his name he couldn’t deny you the pleasure any longer.

Characters: Joel Miller x (f) reader

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: y’all know how bad I’m down for Joel rn, and I saw this tiktok that had me truly feral and frothing at the mouth so me being the true slut I am for this man, I had to include the dialogue. You’re welcome. Just as a little side note, I have all the other requests in my inbox and I love them all, I will work my way through but I work full time so please be patient, my loves <3

Before the outbreak happened, you had never had a boyfriend, not a proper one anyway and well, since then it had only gone downhill. You were in high school when the outbreak happened and miraculously you had managed to escape and actually survive. You had lost your family along the way and met up with a man called Joel Miller. You first met him in the Boston QZ, and since then you had become a team. It had been years and you were in your late twenties now, still teamed up with Joel but a few years back you took Ellie on with you. It had been a messy journey but one that was so worth it, Ellie was your bestfriend and Joel fathered her like his own. She was just a teenager but she had seen so much in her short life that had matured her much beyond her years. 

After the outbreak, and in the world of dating, men seemed to be greedier at chasing their own highs rather than actually satisfying you in anyway, shape or form. The only orgasms you had really experienced in the past few years were from ones you had drawn from yourself; those long nights where you shifted in your bed and let your fingers give you some much needed relief. Still, you would have traded all of those orgasms for one decent one from another man. 

“Are you listening to me? Hello?” Ellie snapped her fingers in front of your face. “I was saying,” she huffed. “I was saying, how was that date with David the other night, haven’t seen you since and I wanna know all the juicy details.” She giggled. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts but you continued to stare at the food on your plate, you pushed it around before admitting defeat and setting your knife and fork down. “It was awful.” You whined. “Absolutely awful, like guys really only care about getting off themselves. I haven’t had a decent orgasm in years.” You complained and just as you finished your sentence, Joel joined you both at the table. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly and you felt embarrassment rise in you. “Sorry, Joel.” You mumbled and Ellie was biting back a humungous laugh; you shot her a look and she tried to stifle the noise further. 

“Anyway… I should be heading off to school.” Ellie giggled and looked at your embarrassed face and Joel’s awkward demeanour. 

The three of you had settled down in Jackson after your journey temporarily ended when Joel finally located Tommy. It was a decent place; so long as you stayed in line and did your fair share of jobs. You helped out in various places; you helped tend to the animals, you sometimes assisted in classrooms and you were known to frequent shifts in the kitchen. Joel ran defence classes, teaching the older teens how to shot their guns, how to fight with weapons and generally preparing them for if they ever needed to evacuate and look after themself in the wild. He always did frequent patrol shifts around the walls, much like his brother did. In return the three of you had a decent three-bedroom home and for the first time in years, stability and safety. You were just pleased that it offered Ellie a small sense of normality and belonging. 

“David is an asshole.” Joel stated with a smirk. 

“Yeah, well, I know that now.” You laughed bitterly, no humour behind the noise at all. 

“You know… some men out there do actually care about pleasing women. Not all. But some.” Joel said nonchalantly and it only caused your blush to grow deeper in your cheeks. 

“Yeah, well, when you find one. Send them my way, yeah?” You said bluntly and rose from the table, taking your plate. “I’ve got a shift in the kitchen now and then I’m out at the farm for the afternoon. Ellie is going round to a friend’s this evening but promised she would be back before 10pm like normal.” 

“Alright, sweetheart. See you later.” Joel said as he continued to eat his breakfast. 

You long had a crush on Joel, from the moment he first met you in the QZ, you were hooked. He helped teach you how to fight, shoot and even hunt. There had been brutal moments outside the world of the QZ’s and Joel had saved you multiple times. There had also been those unspoken moments between you both where a touch on your hand as he helped you aim maybe lingered a second too long or his gaze fixated on you as you changed, when he thought you weren’t looking. You just assumed he never made a move on you due to your obvious age-gap, you assumed he always kinda looked at you like a kid. The age-gap seemed like such a trivial thing since the whole world ended but you never pushed your luck as you know you needed Joel to get by and actually live. 

—

Your shifts went by quick and by the time you finished you were sweaty and in need of a long, hot shower and maybe, just maybe, you could get five minutes alone to scratch the burning itch under your skin. 

“Joel, you home yet?” You called as you stepped into the home, no lights were on so you assumed maybe he was already in bed. Joel worked different shifts and so, nothing was really a surprise with him anymore. 

There was no answer, just silence, you thanked the god’s above and all but ran upstairs, you turned the shower on to warm up and within minutes there was hot water filling the space. You underdressed yourself quickly and stepped into the water, the second the warm water hit your skin, you sighed with relief. 

You soaped up your body and it didn’t take long for your fingers to explore your body and to slip between your slicked folds; a soft moan fell from your lips as your fingers circled your sensitive clit. You worked yourself quicker as your orgasm neared, you were so deep in the moment. 

“Joel,” You whimpered as your eyes were closed and you worked your fingers faster. Your naked chest heaved as your ragged breaths ripped through your parted mouth. “So good, please. More.” You whined to yourself. 

You had fully allowed yourself to delve into your fantasies; normally someone was always hope and you had to keep quiet whenever you masturbated. So when you had the house to yourself, you allowed yourself to be louder and enjoy it more. 

Joel got home, he immediately saw lights on and heard the water running upstairs. He didn’t think anything of it and went to the fridge to grab himself a drink. That’s when he heard his name, he put his drink down and wandered upstairs, he didn’t make a lot of noise but he wasn’t exactly being sneaky either. 

He saw your body, well, the back of your body at least; his hungry eyes raked over your naked form and they stopped at your ass. That’s when he heard you whimper again and he realised what you were doing. Which meant… no. You were thinking of him?!

Joel went to knock on the door, to politely announce he was home. Anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to and he certainly could held the way his cock hardened in his jeans at the thought of your cumming around your fingers whilst you thought of him. 

His mouth went dry and gingerly he knocked on the door frame which caused your whole body to jump and you almost slipped in the bathtub. 

“What the fuck?! Why are you watching me?!” You yelped and you saw Joel stood there, his eyes raked over your body before he looked around the room and avoided making eye contact with you. You brought your arms to try and cover some of your body. 

“I uh, sorry darlin’. Heard my name and thought you called for me, I, uh, I get what you were doing now…” he said quietly and your cheeks turned a deep crimson. 

“Joel,” you gasped. “I-I’m so sorry I — I thought no one was home and I was just, well, y’know what I was doing. I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry.” You mumbled and switched off the water. You grabbed your towel off the ground and wrapped it around your body tightly. 

Joel finally looked at you and this time he couldn’t help but smile, a boyish grin spread across his features and you wanted to punch him for being so smug. 

“What?! What are you smiling about?” You whined, still embarrassed. 

“Oh it’s nothing just… you want me to help you out, sweet girl. Show you what a real orgasm feels like?” Joel said lowly, the smug expression still on his face. Never before had he allowed himself to indulge in the lust he felt for you, until now; there you were, your hair was damp and your body glistened as the water droplets slid down every beautiful curve of your body.

“Oh fuck you, this,” you gestured up and down your body and between the two of you. You stepped out of the bathtub on shaky legs. “This isn’t something you get to take the piss about, okay? You can forget about that!” You hissed as you went to push past Joel. This was beyond humiliating and you didn’t need him to remind you of it or hold it above you as some kind of joke. 

You tried to leave the room and Joel simply grabbed your wrist, before you could open your mouth he had you pushed up against the wall and was kissing you passionately. It was hot and heavy, your teeth clashed and your tongues met with a moan from you. Your hand found its way into Joel’s salt and pepper hair as his hands rested on your hip. 

“Joel,” you mumbled, barely breaking the kiss between you both. “We shouldn’t, I mean. What about Ellie, what if she comes home? It’ll mess everything up.” You whispered, your breaths short as Joel peppered soft kisses to your jaw. 

“With all due respect, darlin’… how about you shut up and let me show you how good a real man can make you feel.” Joel breathed, his lips hovering just by your ear. 

His words, his lips, his breath; it was entirely all too much and not enough and it had your body quivering under him. 

“Already shaking for me and I’ve not touched you, sweet girl.” He growled lowly in your ear and you shook your head in disagreement. “Bedroom. Now.” He commanded and you obediently left the bathroom and entered your own bedroom. 

You stood awkwardly near the bed, you didn’t exactly have heaps of experience in the bedroom and the experience you did have was usually late at night and with someone you didn’t care for, where the other person was more interested in chasing their release rather than helping you get yours. Joel walked into the room and smirked at you, god, he was so infuriating with his arrogance. 

“Let’s take this off, shall we?” Joel asked softly and held the edge of your towel, he tugged it off and it fell to the floor with a dull thud. You felt exposed and vulnerable as Joel’s hungry eyes drank you in; he was trying to memories every dip of your body, every freckle, every single hair and he wanted this image to replay every night in his head for the rest of his life. “Fuck. So beautiful, look at you.” He cursed, closing the space between you once more to kiss you again. 

He walked you both back until your back fell flat on your bed, you whimpered helplessly under him as you felt his weight on top of you. His large hand came up to knead the soft skin of your breast before his fingers took your nipple and twisted it gently, your back arched off the bed at his actions and you whined under the older man. 

“That’s it. Good girl, that feel good?” Joel asked and let his head duck down to envelope your sensitive nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicked over the bud and you moaned softly.

“Want you to take your clothes off.” You gasped out as your hands clutched at Joel’s grubby shirt. He released your nipple with a pop of his mouth and sat back to remove his shirt. 

Your mouth went dry at the sight, you had seen Joel shirtless before but you had never been able to truly appreciate it. He had a little chest hair and his torso was delicately peppered with various scars, all of them ranging in size and intensity. He locked eyes with you as he stood to undo his belt and jeans, he kicked off the heavy denim and you couldn’t deny the way you clenched around air; you could see the outline of Joel’s cock, it was heavy and thick. 

“Like what you see?” He laughed and grabbed his length through the thin fabric of his boxers. You nodded and shamelessly you let your thighs open further for him. “Good girl.” He cooed as he admired the site of your glistening cunt. 

Joel wasted no more time and he was back on the bed with you, this time just dressed in his boxers. He positioned himself next to you, one leg draped over your to keep legs spread and teasingly, he trailed two fingers through your wet folds. You whimpered under him, spreading your legs further again. Joel laughed above you, he was watching your features as he let his fingers tease you for the first time. Your back arched slightly and your breaths became more ragged. 

“Please,” you whined, your voice high pitched and needy. “Please don’t tease me, Joel.” 

He laughed, again, he laughed and your body thrummed with anger as his fingers moved agonisingly slow before they fell to your clit and he circled that sensitive area just perfectly. You moaned, it was a loud noise and it shocked you as it was ripped from your throat. You threw your head back and your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you until they turned white. 

“Nice and wet for me, hm? That all for me? I heard you moaning my name like a good little slut in the shower.” Joel groaned as his fingers got coated in your slick arousal. 

He started a punishing pace and already, you felt the white heat in your stomach start to bubble aggressively. Joel leant up to admire your features once more, he loved the way your eyes fluttered shut every time he would move his fingers just so. Just as your body tensed, Joel teasingly changed the tempo of his movements and he could see the frustration that settled in your eyes but with that smug smirk on his lips again, he plunged two thick fingers into your tight hole and let his thumb stroke circles around your clit. 

The noise you made was sinful, it almost didn’t sound human. Joel laughed, it was low and breathy and he felt so proud he was the one to elicit these filthy noises from you. He pulled his fingers out just to plunge them in deeper, only this time, he curled them upwards and it had you seeing stars. You felt lightheaded as you screwed your eyes shut and bit down onto your bottom lip. 

“Think you can cum for me? Cum all on my fingers?” Joel asked and tenderly stroked some stray strands of wet hair from your face. “That’s it,” he cooed as he kept his fingers deep in you to stroke against the sensitive spot deep in your walls. 

You were broken, already. Completely and utterly broken as Joel’s fingers ripped an orgasm from deep within you. Your back arched higher off the old mattress and your fingers clawed at Joel’s arm. No man had made you cum like this before. 

You came heavily around Joel’s digits, your walls fluttered and clenched around him as he worked you through your first proper orgasm with another male. 

“That’s it. Good girl,” he cooed softly into your ear as he sped his fingers back up. “You reckon you can cum again?” He asked and you looked at him with your lust-blown eyes and nodded silently, your lips still parted in pleasure. 

Joel’s thumb drew circles around your clit and every so often he would swipe it directly over the little bud of nerves that had you whimpering under him. Your fingernails dug into the skin of Joel’s shoulder and in their wake, you left crescent moon shapes. Joel groaned at the sting of your fingers nails and it only encouraged him to work his own fingers in you deeply. 

“Anyone ever eaten this little pussy?” Joel asked in a low tone, he pulled his fingers out of you and placed a light slap to your sensitive area. You yelped loudly and squeezed Joel’s arm. 

You shook your head no and shivered under Joel’s watchful gaze, you couldn’t speak, you didn’t trust your voice to make the correct noises as you knew what was about to happen and it made your body ache with anticipation. 

Joel kissed your mouth once before he trailed kisses down your stomach, it caused it to heave under his soft touches; his rough facial hair tickled across your skin. Joel took your thighs into his hands and pulled them so they draped over his shoulders, fully exposing your wet pussy to him. His mouth watered at the site and he couldn’t wait to taste every inch of you. 

Joel wasted no more time, he parted your folds with his fingers before he delved his tongue into your wet heat. He couldn’t hold back the deep groan that rumbled up his throat, he had longed to taste you and have you gasping under him. 

“So sweet,” he whispered as he slurped up your arousal. His tongue flicked over your clit and you gripped into his thick hair roughly. “That’s it, use my face, just like that, atta girl. Keep doing that.” Joel groaned as you greedily chased your high again on his face. He attached his lips onto your clit and suckled on it softly, his tongue rhythmically flicked over it. 

“Go-gonna cum again!” You groaned. You looked down at Joel below you and it had you clenching around nothing, you longed to be filled as you came hard. His hair was a mess and his eyes were drooped shut as he ate your pussy like a man starved of food. “I-I want you in me. Need to feel your cock in me.” You whimpered as Joel flicked his tongue over your sensitive body. 

“Yeah? You think you can cum again on my cock? How about you ride me, need to make sure you get all the orgasms you need, good girl.” He purred, standing up to stroke his cock after he removed his boxers. His length bobbed against his stomach when he removed his boxers. Your pussy fluttered with arousal as you watched his hand pass over his length a few times; none of the men you had been with were as big as Joel. He wasn’t just long, he was thick as well and you couldn’t wait to feel the stretch of him inside of you. 

Joel climbed onto your bed so his back was against your pillows and he was half sitting up, he continued to stroke himself as you watched. You were strung out on the intense orgasms already and you weren’t sure how you were supposed to have it in you to ride his large dick. He held a hand up and made a ‘come hither’ gesture with his fingers, you sucked in a deep breath and moved your body up to his. You swung your legs over Joel’s lap to straddle him and he took his cock and passed it through the wetness of your pussy. 

You shivered and gripped at Joel’s chest below you, your fingers combed through the light dusting of hair there. He pressed the tip of his fat cock to your wet hole and held your hips tightly as he brought you down on him. You moaned weakly as he bottomed out so you were sat in his lap, there was a faint sting as you adjusted to him. 

“Bet you can feel me in your stomach, can’t you?” He purred, his fingers stroked soft patterns in the skin of your hips. He took one hand and gently stroked at your clit once again which caused you to grind down onto Joel’s length. He moaned at that and his head lulled back; you were so wet, so warm and just so tight. He knew he was the first one to split you open like that. “Such a tight. little. cunt.” Joel growled, his hips bucking up to fuck into you. 

“So good.” You breathed as you started to bounce in his lap. “Feels so good. You’re so big.” You whimpered, with each bounce down, Joel thrusted up to meet you and it sent delicious shockwaves through your body. Your skin felt impossibly tight and too small for you and the burn in your stomach flickered furiously. 

“That’s it. Atta girl, use my cock. Make yourself cum on me.” He growled, his thumb swiped over your clit once again which ripped a loud moan from your parted lips. As you bounced on his cock, your breasts heaved with the effort and your breaths came out of your mouth ragged and laboured. 

“Can’t cum again, t-too much.” You whined and it was true, your body felt entirely too sensitive and everything almost felt too good, it took you by surprise since you weren’t ever aware that you could feel this good. 

That’s all Joel needed, something animalistic switched in the pit of his stomach and with that, he had lifted your body to flip you onto your stomach. Your face pressed into the mattress with the force and he grabbed your hips roughly, pulling your ass up into the air for him. Joel brought a hand down and spanked the soft skin roughly. 

He shoved his cock back into your wet heat with a groan and his balls slapped forward onto your clit. You whimpered pathetically and tried to grab at the sheets below you for leverage as Joel built up a rough pace. 

“I said,” he accentuated the words with a rough thrust. “Cum on my cock, you wanted to been shown what it was like to cum properly. So cum for me.” Joel growled, his voice was dark and commanding. 

Tears filled your eyes and soon there was a wet patch under your face on your sheets; you weren’t entirely sure whether it was from your tears or the saliva that pooled from your mouth. 

“Touch yourself and cum on my cock.” You commanded bluntly and you obeyed, you snaked a hand under your stomach and rubbed at your clit with fervour. This angle caused Joel’s cock head to bump against that spot deep within yourself. You were soon cumming around Joel’s cock with a scream, you felt a gush and Joel was groaning behind you. “That’s it. Good girl, cum on me. Soak me.” He cooed and slapped your ass, softer this time so he could knead the skin. 

You whimpered as you worked through your orgasm, your eyes screwed tightly shut and your walls fluttered around Joel’s cock as you came down from your high. He didn’t give you a second to recover as he pulled out and flipped you over so he could see your face. 

“I wanna see your pretty little face when I fuck my seed into your greedy little hole.” Joel groaned, he tapped his cock against your sensitive clit and you quivered under him. You weren’t sure you could take much more, never had you felt so pleasured in your life. 

Joel teasingly slow pushed his length into you once again and your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. He didn’t reach as deep in this position but you could feel every single inch as he slid in. He rolled his hips to meet yours and he groaned with each pass of your tight pussy. 

“Want me to fill you up? What if I fuck a baby into you? You want that. Wanna get all round with my seed?” He growled and it made your walls clench around him, he smirked at the reaction and toyed with your abused clit. “I think you can give me one more, little girl. I think you can gush on my cock whilst I fuck my cum into you.” 

You couldn’t believe the words Joel was saying, you were sure it just ‘in the moment’ but you still couldn’t believe the filth that fell from his dirty mouth. You shook your head no at Joel and he just barked a laugh at you. 

“I’m sure I’ll get another out of you,” he whispered and leant down to kiss at your breasts once again. “Bet this is what you thought of in the shower, isn’t it? Bet you thought of my cock splitting you open as I fuck you. I’ve thought about it, baby girl. Fucked my hand so many times imagining it was your tight little pussy. God this is so much better than I imagined. You’re so good for me, taking me so well.” Joel praised with a gutteral groan, his hips were slower as he worked himself closer to his own relief. He was surprised it he lasted as long as he did, it had been a while since he had been with a woman and that was mainly down to you. Anytime he was with someone else he imagined it was you he was filling up. 

“Come on, please give me one more. Just one.” Joel purred, his mouth sloppily licking at your hardened nipples. 

It was too much; his words, his hand, his mouth on your nipples and his cock filling you so deliciously. You didn’t think you could but it happened again; you clenched around Joel once more, his hips stalled and he thrust deep inside of you as you’re tightened around him. The room was filled with your laboured breathing and Joel’s soft pants as he filled you with his seed. You whined as you felt the hot liquid coat your inner walls. 

Joel laid there for a few seconds as he gained his composure once again and he rolled off your body, and slid out of you with a grimace and he winced. Your body shuddered as you laid there, completely fucked out and drunk on the older male’s cock. 

You weren’t sure how long had passed but when you finally found the strength in your body to get up and go to the bathroom, it was pitch black outside, your room was illuminated softly with a distant spotlight. You pulled Joel’s shirt on as it was the only clothes readily to hand and you couldn’t help but smile as you saw his sleeping face, and for once, he looked peaceful. You tiptoed out of your room and headed to the bathroom, just as you stepped inside and turned the light on a figure appeared in the doorway of Ellie’s room. 

“Gotcha!” She giggled as you held your chest from the shock. 

“Ellie!” You hissed. “You almost scared me to death. Go back to bed, it’s late.” You scolded. 

“Why are you wearing Joel’s shirt?” She asked with a knowing smirk. 

“Oh I, uh…” You mumbled, trying to think of the words on your feet. 

“I’m fuckin’ with ya… I came home earlier and well, let’s just say I’m glad the weather was alright for me to walk around the block a few times.” Ellie laughed although you could see the faint disgust on her features. 

You held back a choked laugh and brought your hand up to your mouth. “Ellie, I’m so sorry.. we, I mean, we’re so sorry. We didn’t wann—“ you rambled nervously and she held a hand up and waved it dismissively. 

“Eh, it’s whatever. I’ve seen the way you two practically eye-fuck each other anyway. I’m surprised it took old man Miller this long to make a move on you. Glad you got a decent orgasm though.” Ellie laughed with a shrug. “Goodnight, Y/N. Let Joel know I’m home safe.” She smirked and disappeared back into her room. 

You sat on the edge of the bathtub and held the backs of your cool hands to your burning cheeks. You couldn’t quite believe that today had happened, and of course it ended exactly like that. You laughed quietly to yourself and got yourself up with shaky legs. After finishing up in the bathroom, you went back to your room and crawled into your bed and you drifted to sleep with the soft sounds of Joel’s snores.

You braced yourself on the edge of the bathtub and held your burning cheeks in your cool hands, you couldn’t quite believe that conversation just happened and Ellie had heard the two of you earlier. 

You were just grateful she didn’t seem pissed or upset about it. Maybe things were going to work out all okay in the long run. However they panned out, you were just so relieved you finally were able to have a decent orgasm, or multiples, at the hands of another man. For the first time in a long time, you slept soundly as you listened to the low rumble of Joel’s snores.

[yunwangja]

faultline | 2nd shift

masterlist | next shift

“you’re late.”

you say as suga bursts into the convenience store, still panting a little like he ran the whole way. he’s got his big bag on his back - probably the same one he brought on his trip just yesterday - and his hair’s a bit messy, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it on the way.

“i’m not late, you’re just early,” he jokes with a grin, slipping behind the counter. he disappears into the staff room, and you catch glimpses of him rushing back and forth, each time with something different in his hands. finally, he returns fully changed into his uniform, though his collar is a little crooked from his hurry.

“your shift is usually at 9 p.m. it’s 9:09. you left the store unattended for nine minutes,” you tease, pointing at the clock on the wall with a smug look. the previous part-timer had already left without a second thought, familiar enough with your visits to entrust you with “keeping an eye on things” until suga arrived.

“they don’t care about that,” he shrugs, rifling through the notes his coworker left for him. “i do good work when i’m here anyway.”

he gives you a light smirk as he starts his usual routine, checking over the counter before walking down each aisle to tidy up. he pauses at the frozen foods section, inspecting a bag of something you can’t see from where you’re sitting.

“since when have you been here?” he asks, not looking up.

you stretch your arms over the small table where you’re sitting, leaning back with a shrug. “don’t know. 6, 7? i just came over after i got out of campus.”

he glances over his shoulder at you, a little smirk creeping onto his face as he puts the bag back in place. “aww, you missed me?”

you roll your eyes, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. “don’t flatter yourself, i just had nothing better to do.”

he laughs at your response and continues to go through the rest of the store. knowing that tsumu teased you about this pisses you off even more.

a customer walks in just then, the chime ringing through the store. suga heads back to the counter to help them, and while he works, you ask him bits and pieces about his trip. he’s telling you a story about something funny his friends did when he suddenly remembers.

“oh! the photos!” he exclaims once the customer leaves, practically jogging back to the staff room. he comes out holding his camera, his expression eager as he flips through the images, already smiling.

“here, look at this,” he says, turning the camera to show you the pictures he’d taken. “the place was amazing.”

you lean in, and you’d hate to deny it - but the photos are actually stunning. mountain views, lush forests, and early morning skies. you stick out your bottom lip and raising your eyebrows in approval.

“yeah, it is. that’s cool,” you say casually, nodding. you watch as he flips through more, showing pictures of his friends, then some of himself with a grin so big it makes you chuckle a little. it’s clear he enjoyed himself.

“looks like you had fun,” you say, tilting your head as you study the camera screen.

“a lot,” he answers, and his grin gets wider. “i kinda wish i didn’t have to come back.”

“then you shouldn’t have,” you reply with a short laugh, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

he laughs as well, just as another customer enters, the bell chiming again. he leaves the camera with you and heads back to the counter, glancing over his shoulder as he jokes, “if only i were rich, yn.”

you smile at his comment, watching him for a second before turning back to his camera. you continue flipping through the photos while he handles the customer. eventually, you get through all the shots from his trip and find yourself in his other albums.

the first few shots are of familiar faces: shoyo and tobio during what looks like a hangout session. then, you see photos taken here, in the convenience store. you realize it’s from a day when he had his camera for fun and had snapped some shots of you.

but what surprises you is the number of pictures he took, especially the candid ones. there are moments of you looking away, half-laughing or adjusting your jacket.

your curiosity piqued, you scroll further back. it was photos at a park. you explore more, and it was at a museum. you dig more, and it was pictures of the moon, perfectly framed against the night sky. and then, it was you again.

you were standing under a streetlight, head tilted back as you look at the stars. the memory hits you - he must’ve taken these quietly, when you didn’t notice. there’s one of you laughing, another rolling your eyes, and a few where you’re just gazing up, caught in your own world.

you keep scrolling, and you look through more, and you see kiyoko and bokuto.

you go through more, and it’s shoyo. next, it was you again. when you guys were near your campus. you saw your friends, but almost always, there’s you again, woven in-between these other familiar faces.

“suga,” you call, an amused smirk creeping onto your lips. “you take a lot of pictures of me.”

he’s finishing up with the customer, a faint laugh escaping him as he glances over.

“my friends say that, too,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head a little. “but i can’t help it.” he glances at you, “you’re a good subject.”

“why, do you like me or something?” you tease, eyebrows raised as you look up from the camera with a smirk.

suga doesn’t respond, and when you notice, you look back at him, making sure he heard you. his friendly smile froze and his eyes widened a little.

woah. that was not the reaction you wanted.

you stare at each other for a good few seconds, and you wait for him to laugh. or maybe, he says you’re being weird and you can be the one to laugh it off.

but instead, he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t joke. after a long pause, he shrugs and looks away, “well… yeah.”

he looks back up at you, answering with a quiet honesty.

“does that make it less creepy?”

notes

dundundun !!!! lol well we're just in the beginning >:)

daichi was seeing someone !! a foreigner OOOOH (that was why he called suga)

he's also suga's most trusted friend in regards to his struggles at home. idr if ive mentioned this in the intros but his friends are well-aware of his situation (even yn) but he just doesnt talk a lot about it

kiyoko does watch movies but not an enthusiast, u get it? so yeah she's always just stays quiet esp if its the topic

bo loves criossants i dont knowww my mind just said so

kags loves to piss tsumu off. idk it's a hobby of his

also shoyo has a habit of just like doomscrolling through twitter and replying to almost every tweet he sees

there were people recruiting members to the dance club and akaashi's classmates were like "omg you should join everybody would be all over you"

he says he has bad footwork, but if u actually see him dance he's not that bad

and yes suga's shift is from 9pm-5am. yn only stays til like 1 or 2am tho

you will be updated of tsumu's date in the next shift so stay tuned

taglist: @lvtilzs @uraviriot @adorawritesalot @nachotrash @staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @rowensboat

[fortunekookie07]

The things my muse makes me write sometimes. I swear to blob. @chryssikyu

Here it is. I think it would have been better if I'd been drunk first myself.

Some Drinks, A Bet, and A Game

Zayne groaned, his head was pounding like a drum. He squeezed his eyes shut against the intruding light.

For the first time, he had no bearing of where he was. Nothing looked familiar to him. He wracked his brain, trying to remember where he'd been the night before and the events that occurred. The thing that concerned him the most was how he was going to explain this situation to his fiance.

Movement at his side had him even more panicked, and he stopped breathing before he looked at the figure. Relief flooded him instantly as he finally realized where he was and just who was next to him.

Messy dark hair was sprawled across your pillow, and last night's makeup was smeared on your face. Lipstick long gone. The flowy white dress you'd choosen to wear was twisted all around you, probably from tossing and turning in your sleep. There was a frown on your face, and Zayne was sure your hangover was going to be worse than his when you finally woke up.

Seeing your dress finally brought back memories of the previous night.

Your friends had insisted on taking you out for an after-party, once your engagement dinner was over. According to them, celebrating with friends and family was fine, but now it was their turn, and they had left no room for argument as they dragged the both of you off to a popular bar.

Tara was the first to shove drinks into your hand and then his. Once everyone had a shot, they shouted cheers and tossed it back.

Zayne eyed the clear liquid in the small glass like it was going to be his undoing. That was until you elbowed him in the side and gestured for him to lean down. "They want to celebrate with us. Take the shot!" You whisper yelled into his ear to be heard over the booming music. He sighed and tossed the drink back.

The tequila his the back of his throat with a subtle burn. It wasn't often that he drank, having little tolerance for this type of thing. He rarely drank, and it was about to become very obvious, as the next glass was placed in his hand. A quick glance in your direction, and he tossed back the second drink.

The liquor was already beginning to warm his body, and his cheeks were a light pink. Turning to his petite finace in the hopes of being rescued, he quickly abandoned the thought. You were already gone, having wandered over to the bar to order another round of drinks.

His last sober thought before being handed the third drink is that he is done for.

He couldn't quite recall what exactly had taken place after that third drink. His memory was significantly blurry. "I think we played some sort of game." Zayne said aloud, just as you started to stir.

A loud groan slipped from between your lips as you rolled onto your back. "I am never going to drink so much again." You groan and try to sit up. The room spins, and you have to lay down again.

"Zayneeeee!" You whine rubbing your temples before looking around for him. You find him next to you. An equally miserable expression on his face.

"We are never drinking again." He corrects, reaching over to brush hair out of your face. You turn to look at him more fully. "W-what are you wearing?!" You say in alarm, glancing over at his clothes. "Omg Zayne, are you wearing one of THOSE dresses?!?" Despite the pain in your head, you sit up and throw the blankets back.

Sure enough, it is indeed one of those sleeveless, backless, SHORT dresses. It looks a little small on him. The material stretched over his very muscular physique. They do stretch, but you are quite sure they were never meant to stretch THIS much.

Suddenly, you are overcome in a fit of giggles, and when you throw your head back laughing, you fall off the bed with a dull thud. "Owwwww!" You cry out rubbing your head and butt at the same time. With how hung over you are, it's a miracle you have puked yet.

Rustling on the bed has you looking up when the blankets fall on your stomach. "You don't remember you're responsible for this, do you?" Zayne says, stroking your ankle (that is somehow still on the bed)

"Uhhh, no?" You say questioningly as Zayne passes you his phone. It is unlocked, and there is a picture of you, him, Tara, and some of your other girl friends. Zayne is wearing the dress, looking completely silly and unashamed as well as holding a sign, (that is barely legible) that says in your messy (drunk) handwritting, I lost a bet and my finace made me wear this dress.

"Oh gods, how much did I drink?" You muse aloud, still not moving from the floor. Zayne just snorts and starts moving. Probably going to change into his own clothes.

He keeps clothes in your apartment even though neither of you actually spends much time here. You've more or less moved into his home. You are just riding out the end of your lease before making it official.

"Zayneee, I don't feel so good." You cry placing both arms over your eyes to block out the light.

Your memory comes back to you in pieces and with it a very drunk game of dare. No truths, just dares.

After the fifth drink you've shared with Zayne and your friends, Tara proposes a game of dares and even volunteers to be the first sucker. In no time at all, you've managed to secure a booth, an empty wine bottle, and copious more amounts of alcohol.

The six of you squeeze into the booth, and Tara spins the bottle. It lands on you, and a wide grins stretching across your face. Tara nearly backs down at your catty look before she tosses back another shot to steal her nerves and tells you to do your worst.

You scan the bar quickly and find a suitable target. "It just so happens that most of your Unicorns teammates are also here. "Tara, I dare you to go dance with him." You say gesturing with your head towards the guy that Tara had been having a mutual crush on with for weeks. "But!" She starts to protest, cheeks turning scarlet (an impressive feat, considering how red they already were) "No buts, except yours walking over to dance with your Mr. Hot Stuff!" You say pushing her out of the booth and in his direction.

A few spins later, and you realize you've gathered a bit of a crowd. In the back of your mind, you notice that Tara had failed to return. Another member of your team had only too happily taken her spot. The game has gotten kind of side railed.

One of your friends elbows you and discreetly points in someone's direction. "Look! She says, physically turning your head to see a girl just walking into the bar. She's wearing THAT kind of dress. The turtle neck, sleeves, backless waaaay to short kind. A wicked look enters her eyes, and she wags her brows.

"Oh, Dr. Zayne!" She calls in a sing-song voice, gaining his attention. His face is red, and he is far more relaxed than you've ever seen him in public. "Would you ever let your dear finacee were that kind of dress?" She asks innocently, gesturing to the girl. He only looks for a second. "No." His reply is stiff, and a frown is between his brows. She smiles wickedly.

"No matter how much she looked good in it?" She asks, egging him on. "Absolutely not." He is shaking his head. "Oh, is that so? What if YOU were wearing it first?" She says her grin is devilish. "Why would I wear a dress?!?" He asks. Incredulously, eyebrow raised.

"I dare you to wear it." She says, pressing on. "Wha...?? No!" He argues back. "Fine, then I dare you to let your finacee wear it." She says a winning look on her face.

"I Challenge you!" You say grabbing a deck of cards and dealing them out. "Loser wears the dress!" You exclaim to the cheering of your group as you deal the hand for black jack.

Had you been sober, you would have been so mortified at your behavior, and the fact that you wanted to see your finace wear a very short, very revealing dress. Normally, Zayne was very good at cards. He had the best poker face, and you could never read him. Normally, the pair of you weren't three sheets to the wind and liquored out as you both were.

"Oh gods, you groan finally remembering the card game and how you had very obviously cheated your way to victory, and someone had produced the dress.

The pair of you had shoved Zayne into the bathroom to change clothes, and you'd gotten a piece of poster board and then written your declaration for him to hold.

Then everyone had gathered around and you'd had the bartender take the picture.

"I'll swear of any more than a glass or two." You promised him, as Zayne came back into the room holding a glass of cool water and some painkillers. Thankfully, he was wearing normal clothes. He was now dressed in a dark grey shirt and a pair of dark blue pajama pants.

He set the glass on the bedside table and carefully helped you off the floor and into a sitting position. "Take this." He said, handing you the pills and then the water.

"My friends are evil." You say swallowing the pills

****************************************************

[fivewantscoffee]

So, Five x Lila. I need to get this out of my system so I can maybe finally move on:

I don't like the ship.

I don't like the characters together. I find the pairing a baffling one, and I don't like what it does to the show (and characters) either.

First of all, that wasn't Lila. I don't know who it was, but it wasn't the woman we saw off at the end of S3, or even the one we started off S4 with.

It just wasn't her.

You can blame trauma, or six years of being on the move. That's going to change a person, for sure, but this wasn't about giving Lila any character development.

It was about giving Five a love interest.

Because that life? Yeah. I could see it for Five. I could see him deciding to settle down and take life slow, I could see him being sweet and domestic with a partner should he have one. After he's had some time to heal, now that he's finally free of the apocalypse, I could see that for Five.

But Lila? She was unhappy in her marriage, at least partly because the domestic, stay-at-home-mum life has proven to be something that doesn't fulfil her. She wants more out of life, which is why "bookclub" happened, which is why she ended up in the subway with Five in the first place.

And okay. For the sake of argument, let's go with this. Let's say Five x Lila happened so they could cope with their situation. It was survival, like Lila said. If we were going to have to endure this bad, messy plot point anyway, (which we didn't, we really, really didn't), it should at least have been treated with the seriousness it deserves.

Because, Five? The complete, callous lack of remorse on his part? What the fuck was that?

Even if you pick through the crumbs and try to make it make sense, this wasn't a romance. At best it was survival, and coping, and kind of a tragedy all at once. Five shouldn't be picking fights with Diego. He shouldn't be acting like a spurned twenty-something-year-old.

And yeah, characters can be flawed and in the wrong, but why like this? This didn't feel like Five to me. He is brusque and, when looked at it from a certain angle, I can see why some would call him selfish (which I don't necessarily agree with, but that's a different conversation), but under all his layers, he does love his family. To me, that's the core of his character and has been since S1. Everything he's done, he's done to ensure their survival, then when he agreed to give up in S3, he was content to simply die by their sides.

So, you're telling that this Five, the one we've known and followed for three seasons, had a fling with Lila and didn't even feel guilty or conflicted about it? You're telling me loved this woman, yet was willing to keep her from her family, her children?

"Five is selfish" "Five is tired" "Five is finally moving on"

No. Not like that. To me, the Five from previous seasons (S2 specifically, because that's where a lot of it goes wrong) is only "selfish" in that he wants his family to survive and is willing to go to any lengths to achieve that. He's not exactly compassionate about Allison and Viktor having to leave Ray and Sissy behind. And yeah, he leaves Diego in the asylum because he doesn't want him messing with the timeline.

Is he in the wrong for that? Answer this any way you want, but I don't think it matters to Five. Does he want his siblings to be happy? In my opinion, of course he does, but they're not going to be happy if they're dead.

That's not the same as what S4 does. Not by a long shot. Five cares deeply about those he loves, and granted, he is pretty bad at showing it, but he does care.

He nearly worked himself into the grave trying to solve the first two apocalypses, with little regard for his own well-being. When he realised a third apocalypse was happening, he didn't say fuck it and continue his Pennsylvania retirement road trip... he immediately dropped everything to try and fix it.

So how did we get to S4 Five, who got with his brother's wife, found a way home, didn't tell Lila, AND THEN, after he finally gave her the notebook and they went back, he acts like that?

Yeah, no. That's not my Five.

Also, five x lila happening isn't Five moving on. If anything, it's how he copes with the situation they're in. That's just his Delores 2.0.

Anyway, all of this is moot because the fact of the matter is, they chose to make this happen. Five and Lila getting stuck in the subway together for seven years didn't have to happen.

I don't know.

This used to be a show about family. It also used to be a show about the effects of child abuse on this group of siblings. This started to fall to the wayside after S1, but the family aspect of it still remained.

At its core, tua has always been about family, so what was the point of making S4 at all if this is what they were going to give us?

It's not just Five x Lila. They messed this up across the board, with how flippantly the absence of Sloane and Ray was treated, how shallow and surface-level all of the rest was. They gave us some crumbs with Klaus and Allison, but they couldn't even do that without retconning their entire relationship. That's not even mentioning the ending. The Hargreeves all sacrificing themselves in the end could have worked, but this was not the way to do it.

Anyway, this rant is over. S1 Five, you'll always be famous to me.

[lonewolflupe]

Signs Of Affection (One-Shot)

This is the result of my very first writing request! My friend @welcometo79s (Tumblr) asked me to spoil Fives with gifts, a bath and a nice dinner. I hope you like it, Vi! It was such a pleasure writing this (everything for our man Fives <3)!

Summary: when Fives starts receiving mysterious gifts, it takes him a while to realise they're not some prank from one of his brothers Rating: Teen and up Tags: 501st shenanigans, (domestic) fluff (affection/caring/kissing), SFW Words: 2,845k Pairing: CT-5555 Fives x gen!reader Read this one-shot here on AO3

PART I

“Fives, stop leaving your stuff all over the place!”

Dogma's voice echoed through the 501st quarters, making all the present troopers look up in surprise. Fives shot upright from his bunk, streaking a hand through his messy hair before looking at whatever Dogma was talking about.

“Wha- That's not even mine!” Fives cried out in defence when he laid eyes on the small package Dogma was carrying. In his turn, Dogma shot him an incredulous look, his lips pressed in an unamused line before continuing. “Well, it has your name on it,” he shot at Fives, a scornful look on his face.

Fives walked over and snatched the package from Dogma’s hands, his brows in a confused frown. “What the..,” he muttered, as he examined it. His name was neatly written on a little card attached to it, a small yet elegant bow wrapped around the blue paper. He returned to his bunk, sat down and slowly unwrapped it. His expression shifted from utter confusion into blatant irritation. Inside the package was a bar of soap.

Fives glanced through the quarters until he laid eyes on the brother he was looking for. “Jesse, was this you? If you want me to use the ‘fresher, just tell me to my face!” he shot at the unsuspecting trooper, waving around the soap bar in frustration.

“What are you talking about?” Jesse shouted through the quarters, looking up to see Fives waving with the soap. As soon as he recognised the object, he started roaring with laughter. It took him a while to calm down, making Fives’ frustration even worse. “Vod, that wasn't me. But if you ever find out who the sender is, let me know tho; I'd like to thank them in person.”

Fives shot him an annoyed look, crumpled the wrapping paper into a ball and threw it across the room towards Jesse, only making him start laughing all over. Fives put the soap bar at his side and laid back down on his bunk, fretting over who could have pulled this prank on him.

---

A small envelope came next. Again, it had Fives’ name on it, written in glittery blue. Since no sender had come forward after the last package, not just Fives, but all troopers were starting to get curious about the mysterious gifts.

When Fives sat down to see what content the envelope was holding, Tup and Hardcase huddled together behind him, looking over his shoulder in anticipation when he opened it. He emptied its contents above his hand, and some red rose petals came falling out. Again, no explanatory note came with it; it was just the petals.

Without uttering a word, Fives looked blankly at the envelope's contents in his hand. Hardcase leaned forward, almost crawling over Fives’ shoulder to have a better look. “What are- Are those edible?” Hardcase asked, completely lost on what Fives was holding.

Very much amused, Tup started chuckling and placed his hand on Hardcase’s shoulder. “Those are rose petals; they're leaves from a flower,” he elaborated, before taking one from Fives’ hand and examining it carefully. A genuine smile appeared on his face; the symbolism wasn't lost on him. “Fives, do you have anyone special.. An admirer?”

The credit dropped when Fives finally thought about you. He had totally misinterpreted the previous gift, and now that Tup mentioned someone special, it started to make sense. Well, making sense was somewhat far-fetched; he still didn't know what use a bar of soap and rose petals had to him.

“I.. I guess.. they're the one sending me these gifts?” he slowly stated, not too confident, but he couldn't think of a different explanation. Tup’s smile widened and he started patting Fives on the shoulder. “Looks like you've found yourself a good one,” he said, before leaving him to ponder in peace, dragging Hardcase along with him.

---

The third present was a sturdy spork made out of metal, and Fives definitely felt more excited about it than he was after unwrapping the bar of soap. But it got even more interesting with the fourth and final gift.

Subtly, Fives made it for his bunk without alerting his brothers; he wanted to open it in private, without raising an array of questions about you, what the gifts meant and what your intentions were.

Sitting on his bunk, with his back towards his brothers, he opened the gift card carton and a keycard slid out, together with a little note with coordinates and a time, which was set not much later that evening. His lips curled into a wide smile as he cautiously put the card back into the carton.

Now for the matter of leaving the quarters unnoticed. Fives tried walking out as casually as possible, but just when he reached the exit, Jesse blocked it. “Where are you off to at this hour?” he shot at Fives with a suspicious grin on his face. “Gotta use that bar of soap,” Fives returned after a short silence, allowing his lips to slide into a smirk. “Sure thing, Fives,” Jesse chuckled, before freeing the exit for him.

---

PART II

It hadn't taken Fives long to figure out the coordinates to your home; he was an ARC trooper, after all. He used the keycard you had gifted him, and your front door slid open. You weren't there to welcome him; he was only met by a dimly lit room.

He was just about to call out your name, as he was starting to question if you were even home at all, when he noticed the trail of rose petals on the floor. He frowned in confusion, but remembered one of your earlier gifts all too well. He decided to follow the trail.

At the end of it, he found a bathtub, filled to the brim with hot, steamy water. Soapy bubbles topped the water's surface, the room filled by the soap's luscious aroma. It all felt warm and welcoming to Fives; like coming home. He took off one of his gloves, and with a content smile on his face, he started twirling his fingers through the soapy water.

“Is it too hot?” Your voice startled him, since he had been so caught up with the bath that he hadn't noticed you entering the room behind him. He looked at you warily, and you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of it. “Don't worry, it's just me,” you eased his mind as you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

He returned the embrace and inhaled deeply when he pulled you close, before placing a soft kiss on your scalp. “I'm glad it is, ner cyare*,” he said softly, before slightly pulling away and gently taking your chin between his fingers to guide your gaze towards his.

*ner cyare = my beloved

You smiled up to him; you were so happy he was finally in your home, allowing for some private time together. “Did you figure out all my gifts?” you asked him, your smile changing into an amused smirk. Fives snorted whilst shaking his head. “The vague ones are making sense now.” You couldn't help but laugh at his reply. “The vague ones?”

He let go of you and shrugged his shoulders, a sheepish grin adorning his face. “Didn't have a lot of privacy figuring them out. The boys started getting suspicious. Especially Jesse,” he elaborated, whilst starting to take off pieces of his armour.

You leaned back and folded your arms whilst looking at him as he undressed. “He'd make a great ARC trooper,” you continued Jesse's case. Fives scoffed and briefly glanced up at you, and you noticed the amused flicker in his eyes. “For being annoying?” You couldn't help but laugh, and the sound warmed his heart. “For being capable,” you huffed amusedly after you regained yourself from laughing.

Fives continued undressing by taking off his blacks, but granted you a flirtatious look in between. “So as an ARC trooper, you're calling me capable?” You chuffed and waved your hand at him; you were almost impressed by the way he changed the subject. “I didn't say that,” you teased him, and he interrupted his undressing to shoot you an exaggerated look of shock and disappointment. “But you know what I think of you,” you quickly continued with a smirk on your face.

When he was completely undressed, he found his way inside the bathtub. He put his arms on the sides and with a deep, content exhale, let himself slide backwards. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the rim of the tub.

It took him a while to notice you weren't undressing. He lifted his head and looked at you confused. “You're not gonna join me?” You shot him a smile and rolled up your sleeves. “I'm going to take care of you,” you replied whilst grabbing a stool and placing it behind him. “I like the sound of that,” he said softly, before relaxing again.

You sat down on the stool behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you bring that bar of soap with you?” you asked softly, not wanting to startle him, since his eyes were already shut. “It's.. It's somewhere..,” he muttered, losing all sense of the galaxy. You chuckled softly. “Don't worry, I think I have some more over here.”

After you had found another bar of soap, you gently started scrubbing Fives’ battle-worn skin with it. You made circling movements on his chest, slowly going down to his abdomen. You softly nudged him forwards, and when he did, you scrubbed his lower back and slowly moved up again. He sighed contently as he was leaning forward, focussed on your touch and movements only.

When you were done with his back, you gently grabbed his shoulder to guide his back against the tub again. He briefly opened his eyes to look at you over his shoulder, and you smiled at him before placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

With the bar of soap still in your hand, you continued your movements, circling over the tense muscles on his shoulders to help loosen them. You smoothly slid the soap over his muscular arm towards his hand. When you reached it, he briefly interrupted you by taking yours and squeezed it. 

When you were done with the bar of soap, you grabbed a bottle of shampoo and put some of the creamy substance on your fingers. You started spreading it on top of his head, tenderly massaging his scalp with the tips of your fingers in the process. You gently twirled his dark locks between your fingers, making sure you didn't miss a spot. Fives hummed softly and you felt him slowly starting to doze off.

You carefully washed the soap from his hair, and when you were done, you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed your head at his side, putting your cheek against his. He muttered something unintelligible, and you smiled before kissing his jaw.

He could relax here for a bit longer; you had to attend to the next part of your plan. Without making a sound, afraid you would startle him, you got up from the stool and left the bathroom, leaving Fives behind in a state of relaxation he had never experienced before.

---

PART III

When Fives finally opened his eyes, it took him a moment to realise he was in your home. He looked around the bathroom calmly, slowly taking in his surroundings. Two things stood out to him: you weren't in the room anymore, and something smelled kriffing delicious.

With some effort, he heaved himself out of the bathtub and dried himself with the towel you had left him. He slid into the most comfortable bathrobe; he had never worn one before, but he simply couldn't believe they were this soft. With a smile on his face, he looked at the bath one last time before he left the room, in search of you - and for the source of the mouthwatering scent.

He found you in the small kitchen of your humble abode, although its size didn't hold you back from going all out cooking dinner. The sink was filled with used pots and pans, whilst a few others were still on the nanowave stove. The room was filled with the scents of oven baked fish and grilled vegetables. Fives watched you in silence for a moment, before he cleared his throat.

You were so focused on the cooking that he startled you; you hadn’t noticed him entering the room. But you regained yourself quickly, and shot him a loving smile. “I didn’t want to interrupt you just yet,” you caringly said to him, whilst preparing some plates for dressing. Fives walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing a soft kiss on your head. “I haven't been this clean in forever,” he replied with a smirk on his face. You chuffed amusedly, before turning around in his arms. “I hope you’re hungry too,” you said with a flicker in your eyes.

“You bet I am,” he replied in a playful way, before moving closer and landing his lips on yours. You were all too happy to receive them, and answered his kiss gladly. You wrapped your arms around his neck to be closer to him, to reach him more eagerly. With ease, he heaved you on top of the kitchen counter before continuing the passionate kissing, your lips stroking and your noses brushing against each other.

The sound of a kitchen alarm interrupted your moment, and whilst chuckling, you slightly pulled away from him. “Gotta complete the mission,” you whispered to him, as you looked into his brown eyes. His lips folded into a grin, before replying: “Mission’s always first.”

Whilst you finished up cooking and dressing the plates, Fives sat down at your table, his gaze not averting from your every move. It didn’t matter where he was, as long as he was with you, he felt at home. And you were currently making that feeling growing ever stronger with taking care of him. He wished he never had to leave again.

The plate you put in front of him looked divine. A piece of oven baked blackfish laid on a lush bed of grilled vegetables, decorated with some fresh herbs. In a separate bowl, you served Corellian buckwheat noodles with a creamy sauce. Fives, being used to ration bars and whatever would be served at the mess hall back at the barracks, had never seen anything this delicious. He looked up at you confused, not sure if this was meant for him at all. “Dig in,” you encouraged him with an approving nod, an amused smile adorning your face.

And he did. He carefully took his first bite, and when the buttersoft fish melted in his mouth, he closed his eyes and you noticed how the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He took pleasure from every chew, trying to figure out all the flavours. And with every next bite, he made sure to let you know he was enjoying it, his content not only showing from his face, but from the sounds he made as well.

You couldn’t help but laugh in both amusement and endearment; it made you happy knowing you could give him something to distract him from the war, from the suffering and the losses. He deserved that. “What?” he asked you, his mouth full and a sheepish look on his face. You placed your hand on top of his whilst you shook your head. “Nothing. Please continue,” you chuckled at him, and he didn’t have to be told twice.

---

Fives made sure there was not a stain left on any of the plates or bowls before he leaned backwards, uttering a sigh of content. “That was.. That was delicious. Thank you, ner cyare,” he smiled at you, and you affectionately returned the smile. You got up to your feet and started clearing the table, but he interrupted you. “Here, let me,” he shot at you, before taking the plates from your hands. He helped you do the dishes and clean up your kitchen, and nearly needed another bath when he was done. You laughed when you used a towel to wipe away the soapy remnants on his bathrobe, and when you were done, he gently took your hands into his.

You looked up into his eyes, dreading the inevitable goodbye. “How long before you have to head back?” you asked softly, swallowing at your own words; you didn’t want him to leave. Not just yet. “I have some time left,” he comforted you, before placing a tender kiss on your forehead. You chuckled softly at his touch. When he pulled back, you briefly squeezed his hands and asked: “Holofilm?” He closed his eyes and with the most tender touch in the galaxy, he leaned his forehead against yours. “Yeah, as long as I can stay a little longer with you.”

Fives taglist: @welcometo79s

[y-rhywbeth2]

The Temple of Bhaal, BG1 vs BG3 (aka, my god this place has gone downhill.)

Fun fact about the Baldurian Temple: the Bhaalspawn born to Bhaal's priests were, for the first few years of their life, raised here communally with their siblings by the priests (their mortal parents and guards). Then the vast majority of them who would not go on to be a video game protagonist or their villainous brother were ritually sacrificed to their father here.

Very long post, largely due to screenshots.

First things first:

The Undercity

If you're using the lore from the knife, this is the city Bhaal grew up in. I still cling to my headcanon that it's a former Netherese enclave/flying city.

BG1 (brightened a bit so it's more visible). Elevation didn't really come into play until BG2's maps, so it's a little flat. Still visibly a city. Inhabited by sort-of Bhaalists, lazy bats who don't understand that the temple doors opening is their dramatic cue to fly out, and the armed and bloodthirsty corpses of the formerly living citizens.

Crypts and sacrificial altar to the sides, presumably the altar is outdoors so that the ritual human sacrifice can be appreciated by the common citizen.

Buildings in the BG3 version are a touch more intact. The map is bigger and harder to get a shot of. The bats are still present, and apparently attempts to make them understand the needs of dramatic effect and the narrative were not successful, they're just wherever nowadays. The architecture somewhat resembles the modern city, and now that the temple is active it seems the Bhaalists are decorating. Sadly, all the corpses are immobile and made no attempt to murder visitors. Literally what even is the point.

The Undercity has also acquired mysterious deep crevasses to nowhere, which may contain the ruins of more city who knows.

Now has living inhabitants (no less full of craving for death and blood than the previous inhabitants). Priests are supposed to live in their temples, and in the case of Bhaalists, live a double life with a normal life in the city, but whatever. Let's live in ruins instead.

Corpses everywhere (which are supposed to go in the crypts with the rest of Bhaal's offerings, you messy bastards).

Everywhere we find giant pits going down into the earth into what I can only assume is the Upperdark (assuming we aren't already deep enough to breach the first layer of the Underdark).

The Undercity is still in the middle of a sea cave, or underground lake, or whatever this body of water is.

The designs of the doors reminds me of the Tourmaline Depths somewhat, which could imply dwarven influence. However the scale of the city structures suggests to me it was built by larger humanoids. idk.

---

Front Doors

So the BG3 one is a touch grander in scale. Also gets a bridge over a mysterious chasm that either leads into something volcanic or else Gehenna itself. Or they just enchanted it for effects.

BG1 gets points for having the correct colour scheme (black and purple, being the colour of the ceremonial robes should be his sacred colours).

'...the [sacred] colors of a deity remain the most common minor manifestation. [...] These colors also indicate the most common shades used in raiment by people of the faith, particularly divine spellcasters.' - Deity Dos and Don'ts

'...all Bhaalyn wore full ceremonial robes of deep purple or black with violet streaks...' - Faiths and Avatars

etc etc

We also have no pillars of bones, and I prefer the eerie figures of Bhaalist priests in their ceremonial regalia to whatever the horned things are.

---

The Temple

'Urban temples dedicated to the Lord of Murder were typically dark, spartan dungeons located beneath a city's streets featuring an occasional mosaic or sculpture depicting a violent death. Most contained several chambers of tokens taken from the bodies of murder victims and large crypts filled with the corpses of past victims who could not be left where they fell. (The inhabitants of such crypts were often restless.)' - Faiths and Avatars

I am noting a great deal too many immobile corpses and a distinct lack of tormented enslaved undead victims in this house of death.

Continuing the trend of giving BG1 points for the colour scheme: Purple and black! Golden skull bowls of purple fruit punch abounds. There also appears to be gold trim around, and that rug isn't cheap, so we're losing points on 'spartan.'

Points also deducted because the tears on the holy symbol are going the wrong direction.

Fulfilling the 'depictions of violent death' portion of the descriptions, we have an expensive looking rug depicting the hell portion of Angelico Giovanni da Fiesole's 'The Last Judgement.' Which carries interesting implications for interactions between the priests and Earth. Considering they don't expect to suffer for all eternity, one imagines it was just chosen for the violence.

Also some inexplicable Christian imagery in the form of crosses, which make no sense for Bhaalists.

The crypts should probably be in their own room, but whatever.

The statuary depicts Myrkul, for some reason. Why not line your house with statues of your bestie, I suppose.

-

Ignoring the black smudge where Orin is because just like I did with her father, I'm ignoring the sacred kinslaying duel in favour of running around taking screenshots.

BG3 edition sort of wins points for being spartan (but you look closer and realise it's actually very intricate, just damaged).

We have regressed from the ways of our forefathers: Sarevok's party at least knew how to clean up after themselves.

The gold trim has been switched in for bone decoration:

Ossuary: fuck yeah. Now either put all the other corpses lying around into a crypt or use them for artwork. As it is you all look like slobs, and if somebody trips over a bone or slips in a pool of blood and falls into the mystery pit or cracks their skull on the stone floor it's going to be embarrassing.

Contrary to the mess the Bhaalists have left their room in, the stonework done by the original builders is quite intricate. The various letter-like etchings all graffitied all over the city and temple look like Iokharic, at a half-assed glance over, which might indicate it's Netherese (I'm not suffering from confirmation bias or anything)

-

The Circle of Tears has migrated from the floor to the wall, (so that Bhaal can glare at his Primate/Primistress/Offspring when they are sent to their room.)

You pray to Bhaal by smearing blood over the eyesockets of the skull like tears. I have no idea how we do that in this temple. Water gun? Do we have big ceremonial paint rollers with long handles?

We have the 'several chambers of tokens taken from the bodies of murder victims' which for some reason contains minimal amounts of corpses and offerings. The corpses are supposed to be in large crypts by the way. Just pointing out. It would not kill us to be tidy and organised.

The pit continues. Actually:

These damaged bits leading downwards match the doors found around the city, so I assume that the actual temple complex is much bigger than it seems.

-

We have a dais, with apparently meaningless symbols and we couldn't be assed to light all the braziers for some reason. At least there's a sacrificial altar.

Also still some gold decoration remaining, if you look closely at that square and the braziers.

Also there's Orin and Halsin. Wave everybody.

-

Who decided we needed a library, anyway? I feel like it contains a mixture of the holy texts and the sacred tome (bible-type thing) all temples get, and the rest of it is Grimlark's poetry.

Moving onto the bedroom that wasn't on the original schematics:

Bhaalspawn don't know how to use space properly. The Sims player in me is screaming.

I assume the blood bath near the bed is for ritual purification, because using it as an actual bath would be stupid. I also assume the blood all over the place is kept fresh and flowing via magic, because killing enough people to keep it all replenished would be idiotic.

To the West; a secret escape tunnel for bypassing your dramatic sister and sneaking into your/her room to read her diary and also your diaries that she didn't throw out for some reason.

To the East: the study, where there is a lot of alcohol and corpses.

The rug is the only splash of purple in this temple and it's purely by accident but I'll take what I can get.

Did Orin get this bed for herself, or steal Durge's? It is - unlike the rest of the temple - quite expensive and comes with more gold accents. Considering she complains about Durge not running the temple properly, I am assuming that Durge is at fault for the 'decaying' of the temple, as Orin puts it, and she's in the middle of renovations right now. ...Who did they commission for the gold holy symbol embedded in the headboard? It's also a bit redundant, but now Father has two faces from which to watch you sleep while he visits you in your horrific nightmares...

[deadlyflames]

I have to say, I was absolutely obsessed with your Reverse Falls AU back in the day (still am tbh), and it was/is my favourite version of any Reverse Falls AU that had been done. I love that Gideon and Pacifica weren’t just given Dipper and Mabel’s personalities like a lot of other versions of that AU, and that they felt like the better version’s of themselves. I’m still wondering what the plot was gonna be concerning what Stan was up to and with Ford being trapped in the portal and such. Regardless, your writings still have a chokehold on me, so thank you <3

Thank you so much! I'm so happy to you enjoyed it. I love getting messages like this <3

I don't think I'll finished my own full version of the plot as I planned to, because it was kinda intense. But I'm very glad I made all those one shots and that they make people happy. I loved writing them and I still adore this AU.

TBH, I had a huge plan for the Stanford backstory and it was so unnecessarily complicated. Theres stuff I would keep but other stuff I would probably axe.

Short version is Stan and Ford moved to Gravity Falls when they were 12. They befriended a young Carla and Fiddleford and the four of them formed a little scooby gang that would solve the mysteries of Gravity Falls.

A young Ford stumbles upon the cave with the incantation to summon Bill and he translates it. So a young Pre teen Ford meets Bill much earlier than in canon and this influences him for the worst.

Stan doesn’t break his machine, Ford still gets rejected and this sends him on a dark spiral. He leaves town without a world.

Ford still builds the portal and falls into it, but this time it wasn't an accident and he was pushed in it on purpose. By Stan. 😬

The one who is actually trying to open the portal in this AU was Pacifica's mom. 😱

Here's a link to a more detailed timeline of these events - be warned - its hella messy.

Even tho I’ll probably never finish this story, it has a special place in my heart. ❤️ So I’ve included the draft for the first chapter of the official reverse falls au and my other chapter plans below the cut.

You didn't ask for it so ... here you go.

Play It In Reverse

While working for their Granny Carla, Pacifica and Gideon come across a nameless journal with mysterious content. They start to unravel the secrets of their home town, but they find some things are better left hidden when their path crosses with the Pines twins.

Ch 1 - Part Time Tourist, Full Time Trapped

Priscilla Northwest had not been happy when her daughter had brought up that she wanted to get a job for the summer break. Priscilla had stated that it was below a lady of her station to have a part time job and work for one of the lowbrow hicks that lived in the town. Besides, what was the point in getting a job when they were already rich.

But Pacifica had been persistent and Priscilla had seen the fiery rebellion in her violet eyes. She wouldn't easily back down from her position, not without constant tantrums and complaining. The child had always been annoyingly stubborn when she set her mind to something. Though Priscilla couldn't say she was much different when she was Pacifica's age.

She didn't really want to deal with an angry reckless teenager when she had a city to run. And she doubted Preston could keep Pacifica in line on his own. And it would be much easier to continue with her work if Pacifica wasn't wandering about the mansion on a constant basis.

The more Priscilla pondered on letting her daughter get a summer job, the better the idea seemed. The only problem was finding a place for her to work. She wouldn't let Pacifica be caught dead laboring in the greasy lumberjack diner. Priscilla would have to make sure that she had a respectable job with a trustworthy employer. An employer who wouldn't mind being saddled with a fourteen year old girl with no previous work experience and no knowledge of how to work for a living. It would be a difficult task, even for the mayor of the town. Priscilla was gifted in finding the right strings to pull to make sure things would work out to her design, and she didn't doubt her abilities. But not many respectable people would accept taking on a new employee for the entire of summer when the season had just started.

Acquaintances were unlikely to accept Pacifica, but family was another story.

Long and short term plans formed within her mind as she reached out to pick up her phone. Dialing a familiar but unused number on her phone, she took a deep breath as she brought the receiver to her ear.

An eccentric voice answered on the third ring. "You've reached the Mystery Shack, home of the legendary swamp beast foot. Just the left foot though, the rest of him is still buried in the swamp, plotting a way to find his missing limb. If you'd like to see it for yourself, come on down and enter-"

"Mother," Priscilla said to the woman on the other end, cutting off her sales pitch. "It's Priscilla."

The friendly tone in her mother's voice flipped on a dime. "Ah Priscilla, thought you might call," Carla stated with clipped sarcasm. "It's only been a year."

She cringed to herself in response to her mother's attempt at guilt tripping her. She hadn't called in order to get told off for not keeping in contact. Even though she was sure that her mother would love to focus on that subject.

"You know how busy I am, mother," Priscilla replied flippantly. The response left her lips before she could think better of it. Too late to take it back now. She examined a bit of paper work that had been pushed off to the side of her desk. Something to focus on other than the rant her mother was going to go on.

"Too busy to keep in touch with the family?" Carla snapped, temper showing in the sharpness of her voice. "Honestly Pris, I haven't seen you in years, and neither has Gideon. And seeing you on TV does not count. You haven't even called or written. We live in the same town, for god's sake. I've barely seen any trace of my granddaughter, who I also haven't seen in years, by the way."

Priscilla's ears perked up at that last sentence and her mind raced to engineer the perfect speech. Immediately, she adjusted her voice and spoke in an pleasant tone. "That's actually why I called you," she stated diplomatically. Lies spun out of her mouth like spiderwebs, laced with ulterior motives and secret plans. And like a spiderweb, they entrapped the woman on the other end. "Pacifica has been so consumed with her studies for the past few years, I thought it would be good if she had a break. I was hoping that you could let her work for you this summer, since you aren't particularly well staffed. It would be a great chance for you to bond."

There was a long pause on the other end, and Priscilla wondered if her mother was able to see through her. If anyone could, it was her. But even if her speech had rung false in her mother's ears, she doubted the woman would pass up the chance to spend time with her only granddaughter.

"So, you want me to take your teenaged daughter off your hands " her mother asked, a hint of amusement in her tone that Priscilla wasn't particularly fond of. "Alright, I'll let her work for me. On one condition."

The word condition alone was enough to tense her muscles and cause an uncomfortable flexion in her fingers. However, despite an initial discomfort, Priscilla kept her composure, because this was her mother and she rarely had an ulterior motive that extended beyond extra family time.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked with a neutral but polite tone that never betrayed her emotions.

"Pacifica stays here at the shack, it'll be like summer camp," her mother chirped, and Priscilla could tell she was smiling on the other end. "Plus I won't have to waste gas money, driving her back home."

The idea of Pacifica sleeping in the musty old shack Priscilla had despised in her childhood, made her cringe with disgust. However, it lined up with her motive to keep her daughter out of her way for the summer. Besides, it would be a good learning experience for her daughter, experiencing how the lower class lives. Perhaps she would finally understand the difference between the Northwests and everyone else in this town. Perhaps she would return home and actually be grateful for everything Priscilla had given her.

So, despite the revulsion that twisted her stomach when she thought of her daughters perfect blonde locks resting on the stained and unkempt beds of her childhood room, Priscilla kept a cheery tone. But not too cheery and with just the right amount of tension in her vocals. "That sounds wonderful."

She could practically see the triumph in her mother's eyes when she replied. As if taking in a teenager for the summer was some great victory. "Swell, you can drop her off this weekend." With that Carla hung up the phone, probably feeling very proud of herself.

There was a twitch at Priscilla's lips when she hung up the phone. In another life, if she had been burdened with a lack of ambition like other pretty girls, she probably could have become an actress.

Xxx

A small group of shuffling tourists pilled into a small, dark room. A young boy stood at the front of the group, leading them further into the darkness. Once the last person entered the room, the door slammed shut behind them, startling the tourists inside. Even in the darkness, people were able to see the little boy's light up shoes and the glimmering rhinestones adorning his cap. He was the only thing their eyes could follow as he came to stand on a platform.

"Now y'all gather in close," the boy stage whispered, his southern accent ringing clear as a bell. "And listen well as old Clarabelle tells you the darkest secret of Gravity Falls. I suggest those of you with feint hearts cover your ears."

The group was collectively pulled in closer by the softness of his voice. They were gathered tightly together now. Each person whispering of either conspiracies, skepticisms or wonder at what they were about to hear. No one saw the large smile on his face when he spoke again. "Now try not to scream, old Clarabelle's in a ... delicate situation."

There was a click and a single spotlight shined on the stage. The sudden light source assaulted everyone's retinas for a moment, when their eyes readjusted to the light the group let out a series of gasps. The white haired boy stood atop a stage that was made to look like a creepy living room, with ancient looking furniture and spiderwebs hanging off of everything. There was a single rocking chair in the centre of the stage, and sitting on it was an old woman who's appearance caused some of the audience to tremble. She was tightly bound in an old fashioned straight jacket, that would have been white if it weren't for the questionable dark crimson stains that streaked it. Her hair was long, stringy and a mess upon her head. But the real terrifying thing was her sunken in, erratically shifting violet eyes.

When she looked upon the people before her, a crooked and wild grin found its way to her lips. She tilted her head to the side to show off the sharpness of her teeth, causing people to notice that she had long fangs in place of her canines.

"Well, hello there, dears," she crooned to the crowd in a sickly sweet tone. "It's so nice to see such fine people visiting our little town. This sleepy little town, with wholesome citizens and lovely sights. At least, that was what the uninformed would assume. But I know differently. There are shadows in the forests, shifting when you get close enough. Strange phenomenons that cloud this town's history. Why even in this ver-"

She paused, crazed violet eyes snapping upwards towards the ceiling. Her breath hitched as she stared ahead, her gaze not really fixed on anything. Everyone waited in anticipation for her to finish her statement, or perhaps for her to snap into a violent rage.

She slowly craned her head towards the audience, a smile stretching at her lips but not affecting her dead eyes. "Sorry dearies, it seems you've come to visit old Clarabelle at a terrible time. You see-"

The old woman was cut off by a sudden rumble beneath the stage. She glared down at the floorboards as if they had offended her.

"You see, tonight is the new moon and-" the woman tried again, though her character was slipping. Her voice was a lot louder this time but her words were drowned out when the mechanical rumble bellow to stage turned into a full fledged roar.

A trapdoor in front of the old woman's rocking chair opened up with a slam. Puffs of smoke poured out from the opening, accompanied by the sound of distorted dog growls. The now confused and horrified audience watched as something large and fury emerged from the stage.

An animatronic werewolf jumped up from bellow the stage, only its hide was on fire. It's hinged jaw jerked rapidly and the rubber skin and synthetic fur melted away as it was licked by the flames. The thing's voice box was damaged by the heat, and the long howl it was programmed to make became distorted. The screech it made sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

The tourists screamed, some of them feeling the heat from the very real and dangerous flames. This little scene had clearly gotten out of control, and no one wanted to stick around to see the damage that would come of this malfunction. The group fled the room in fear, rushing passed the gift shop and back to their cars. As a collection of cars sped away on the dirt road, no one in the line had an inkling to ever go back to the Mystery Shack.

The boy, who had been guiding the customers, had fled the scene to fetch a nearby fire extinguisher. Luckily, due to prior experience with combustible machinery, he was able to douse the flames in a few moments.

As the large clouds of smoke rose up from the opening, the animatronic flopped over lifelessly and it's rubber skin sizzled. The old woman fluidly slipped from the confines of her straight jacket and tossed it to the side. Upon finding the room barren of tourists, she cursed loudly. The boy's hands automatically shot up to cover his ears as the woman cursed over and over.

"I thought you said it wasn't going to catch on fire this time, Melody," Carla McCorkle snapped, yanking the itchy wig from her head and throwing it to the ground in disgust. She spent all month preparing for this werewolf bit and now all these rehearsals went to waste. Not only that, but all the paying customers had booked it out of there without so much as a tip.

"I'm sorry," a feminine voice called out from under the stage. From the trap door, a young woman emerged. Her face and clothes were coated in soot and her hair was severely disheveled. "I really thought I fixed all the problems but when I went to turn it on, there was this pop and then a flame sparked and everything just got worse from there. I'm really sorry Miss McCorkle, I think it had something to do with the-"

"I don't care how it happened, just get it fixed," she said, brushing past the bewildered and frantic young woman. She yelled at the top of her lungs. "Robbie! Robbie, get over here!"

When there was no response, Carla stormed out of the room and into the gift shop, only to find her cashier missing.

Pacifica sat before the cash register, counting the money, or rather the lack of it. When her grandmother entered the room with the fury in her violet eyes, she straightened her posture to put up a facade of alertness.

“What happened?” the blonde asked, a sculpted brow arched in confusion. “I saw everyone run out of there and I thought someone died or something.”

“Those people are wimps,” her grandmother growled, glaring out the window where she could just make out the tail end of the retreating automobiles on the dirt road. She turned to her granddaughter with a frown. “Where the heck is Robbie?”

“He went AWOL after all those people ran out without even buying anything,” Pacifica answered with a shrug, though she turned her head to gaze wistfully out the window, the way she had seen the cashier go. “He said he would be hanging out with some friends.”

“Lousy teenagers,” Carla grumbled, crossing her arms and glaring out the window. “This is coming out of his pay check.”

The young boy came running in, out of breath and grinning like they hadn’t lost out on a whole lot of money.

“Good news,” he chirped, and Carla looked towards him with a skeptical gaze. “Melody got the fire out. Bad news is she’s going to need a week to fix the werewolf bot.”

Carla groaned dramatically, raking her fingers through her thick grey curls. While she mumbled a string of curses to herself, her grandchildren shared a look of acknowledgment and subtly nodded to one another.

“Weeeellll,” Pacifica said, dragging out the word as she stepped out from behind the counter. “Since today was a bit of a bust and Melody is working on fixing the werewolf, Gideon and I were gonna go out for a walk in the woods.”

Upon hearing this, Carla to her granddaughter with a suspicious glare. She inclined her head in interest, searching for any hidden intent in Pacifica’s facial features or posture.

xxx

Gravity Falls wasn't the kind of place you would expect people to travel to on purpose. It was a small town, built on the lumber industry, with not much in terms of attractions. There was a grand total of four restaurants, two motels, and one mall. The town held some weird traditions and fostered a bunch of creepy local legends, but other than that it was basically a pit stop for weary travellers taking a road trip in the pacific north west.

xxx

The tree was cool to the touch, and had the texture of steel. The realistic paint job mimicked the colour and shadows of bark and had fooled Pacifica and Gideon into believing it was real.

Out of curiosity, she carefully ran her hand along the tree side. She paused when her fingertips caught on a small grove in the metal, indicating that there was some kind of opening.

Xxxxx

These were my chapter plans for play it in reverse - some are more thought out than others lol

Part Time Tourist, Full Time Trapped: Gideon and Pacifica go out to get pictures of something spooky, they come across gnomes. The gnomes find the two truss passing on their lawn and try to force one or the other into marriage. When they escape, the cousins stumble upon the third journal. They use it to escape the gnomes by summoning the manatoar to scare them off.

Once in a Waxing Moon: Pacifica finds a poster for the Mystery Museum's new wax exhibit. Carla flips her lid and immediately calls up Fiddleford Mcgucket to assemble a new attraction to beat out Stan. Pacifica and Gideon help Melody and Fids with the creation of the Gobblewonker. They do the painting. Pacifica meets McGucket for the first time and learns how Melody started working for Carla and how she became a mechanic. Like a try hard, Carla shows of fat the wax exhibit unveiling and shows up Stan with her gobblewonker. After an enormous explosion takes out everything, Paz and Gideon decide to find out who caused the destruction. With a tip from Wendy, they find out that Stan was around when the thing blew up. But that's weird because Carla and Stan were fighting at the time. Something Is sketchy so they go snooping around the mystery museum late at night for clues. They find out that it was actually Stan's wax figure that blew up the robot and they nearly get killed by some wax figures. Pacifica meets dipper Stan and Carla get into a fight and Paz gets some free tickets to the tent of telepathy.

There's Something About Mabel: Paz and Gideon and Melody go to the tent of telepathy. Mabel is interested in Gideon and approaches him with the intent of owning him. He's excited to be hanging out with her but he gets severely scared of her and has to put up some boundaries. This makes Mabel even more determined to have him and she starts pressuring him to date her and smothers him and nearly threatens him. Paz, seeing the effect Mabel has on Gideon, confronts her and tells her to lay off a bit. Mabel doesn't take this well and traps her at a factory and promptly tries to kill her. Gideon receives the ransom note, and tries to appeal to her better nature. He lets her down easy but Mabel goes full out horror show on him. Paz tries to rescue him but Dipper shows up and stops her. Dipper convinces Mabel not to kill Paz or hurt Gideon and she begrugenly follows him, not without threatening Paz on the way out.

Season of the Hand Witch: Gideon and Paz start panicking about the mystically powered twins and consult the journal for answers. They can't find anything on the mystic amulets but they do find info on a psychic witch who may have the answers to how they can defend themselves. They go to the handwitch who tells them how to make hex bags to stop the pines twins from using their powers on them.

Mabel goes to meet them at the shack and act threatening but finds she can’t use her powers. Pacifica is a bit gloaty about it.

Mabel goes to tell Dipper about how they got had. Dipper is surprised that Pacifica found away around her powers, and he’s impressed but not too upset. Its just a couple of kids after all. Sucks for Mabel tho. Mabel is like yeah it is unfortunate. Especially since Pacifica has the other journal. Dipper just screeches "WHAT?!"

The Art of Failing at Seduction: the party at the mystery shack, a birthday party for Stan thrown by Carla because she thinks its funny and she makes a big deal about advertising how old he is. Pacifica and Dipper share a confrontation when she keeps catching him sneaking around while she fails to put the moves on Robbie. He gets his hands on her journal but he is dumbfounded when he sees that it’s journal number 3. Dippy thought she had journal number 1, he had no idea there even was a 3rd journal lol. She hits him with a chair and gets the book away from him. He demands to know why it’s the third journal and where the first is. She has no idea what he’s talking about.

Pioneer Day: Pacifica and Stan are both mortified at the discovery that its Pioneer Day. Carla sets up a pioneer station at the shack to get more customers and to piss of Stan. Pacifica has to do the Pioneer Day speech every year.

Trick or Treat or Die: Pacifica pisses off the summerween trickster and then they have to collect a whole lot of candy.

Splash: Gideon falls in love with a magical manatee.

Worst Date Ever: Dipper somehow convinces Pacifica to investigate a series of disappearances around a convenience store. They end up needing to be saved by

Where Have All The Good Men Gone: Dipper and Robbie fight or not.

Something Wicked This Way Comes: Bill Cipher

Pacifica Northwest Vs The World: Dipper and Mabel get access to the Mystery Shack

Nearly Almost Dead But Not Quite: zombie kareoke

It Must Be a Conspiracy: Pacifica and Dipper believe their relatives are up to something.

Experiment #210: Seuss melody date

Mind Swap:

What is Love?: love potion incident.

Witches Be Crazy: Lollipop, Taffy, bubblegum, candy

Ancient Sins: the haunting at Northwest manner forces Priscilla to hire Dipper and Mable to deal with it. Pacifica is pissed off when he shows up.

Order of the All Seeing Eye: the crew discovers a cult dedicated to cipher lead by blind Ivan and they all work to erase the memories of gravity falls so no one will stand in the way of cipher when he returns. They find out about how the portal will open soon, mcgucket finds out that the kids have his memory gun now.

My Soul to Take: Dipper gets his ass possessed. Bills like, well you’ve figured out too much already so we’re gonna destroy those journals of yours and kill all those that know about the impending portal.

No One You Can Trust: the crew tries to find out who could be trying to open the portal and it leads them to mcgucket stan and Carla.

The Thickness of Blood: the portal opens and Ford emerges. Mcgucket manages to contain the rift that had been created via the portal.

Last Ditch Effort: in an attempt to get the power away from the northwest’s, Stan runs for mayor.

Beginning of the End: Mable trades the rift for bill to no longer be able to possess her and her brother while allowing them to keep their amulets and magical abilities.

Weirdmagedon: The Final Temptation: Bill offers Dipper everything he could want so they can make another deal and so he will have dipper under his thrall.

Weirdmagedon: Into the Rift:

Weirdmagedon: The Way Is Shut: the blood is spilled in the circle

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part v- the boat

“we are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side” - kahlil gibran

summary: the weirdest boat you’ve ever been on.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: language, death, violence, abuse, red room, more episode five to come

a/n: hiii, i’m slowly getting back into my groove lmao. got the results back on my finals and scraped by in math, saw taylor in the pouring rain, ya know, normal things. thank y’all sm for being patient w these uploads. as always, hope you enjoy, love you all 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-yourcookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc @theluciansystem @kingtwhiddleston @spider-biter @mxltifxnd0m @sgt-morgan @no-dont-be-suspicious @onzayhe @namorslit @i-cant-write-for-shit @vainillasmil157 @doublevirgogirl @boofy1998

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Now, you’ve grave robbed before. The Red Room had some dirty work, literally and figuratively.

However, you’ve never grave robbed an Egyptian pharaoh’s tomb. Especially not with a man who’s kind of two men who are the avatar of an Egyptian god.

You’ve done worse.

Like shoving your hand down a mummy’s throat because Steven didn’t want to.

“Be gentle!” Steven yelps as you dig around the dead man.

You scoff. “What is he going to do, bite my arm? The integrity of the enamel is pretty shot now, I think I’ll be fine.”

Finally, your hand touches stone. Yanking it free, you victoriously present the ushabti to Steven.

He cheers as you both jump in excitement, passing the ushabti between you both to examine it. Your heart is pounding, both out of excitement and how close you are to Steven.

It turns out to be even closer than you thought when you look up, and almost bump heads with him.

For a moment, you just take in his gaze. How gently his eyes meet yours, deep and dark and entrancing all the same.

“We may have to fight our way out of here,” you cough, refocusing.

Steven shakes his head. “No, no. We can just sneak out a back entrance and-“

“Steven.” You rest a hand on his. “They have a way to track us if we have the ushabti. There are guards crawling all over this place. It’s going to get messy.”

In his head, Marc agrees.

‘It’s gonna be a fight Steven, she’s right.’

“No, no, not everything is a fight.” He’s not sure if he’s talking to Marc or you. “There’s more solutions than- than killing people.” You can’t disguise the way that his words sting.

A loud rumbling of footsteps echoes down the hallway.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

‘Give me the body, Steven!’

In an instant, the mild-mannered Brit is gone, and Marc is readjusting to having control again.

“This is bad,” he whispers, as the footsteps grow louder.

You chuckle. “Yeah, no shit.”

Watching you ready your weapons and aim at the entrance, noticing the way your breath trembles, Marc makes a split-second decision.

“You should run.”

“What?” You balk, never taking your eyes off the tunnel before you. “I’m not leaving you.”

“This is my mess, you don’t need to get hurt for me.”

“Too bad.”

The room is flooded with Harrow’s devotees as you finish your sentence. Dozens of guns, all trained on the two of you. You don’t waver, staring down the barrel of your own gun with a finger resting on the trigger.

“I remember the first morning I woke up knowing Khonshu was gone,” Harrow says, stepping up towards Marc. He doesn’t even act phased by the weapon pointed at his head.

“The quiet was liberating.”

It sounds hauntingly like the chemical-induced control in the Red Room. Voices in your head that aren’t your own.

“You’re a free man.”

Logically, you know that Harrow is speaking to Marc. And yet…

“And, of course, with that freedom, comes choice. And right now, you have a very important decision to make.”

Marc sighs. “Okay.”

He’s not one to give up. That much has been made clear in the time you’ve known him. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s planning something.

The moment he strikes, so do you, shooting down as many men as you can. It’s a whirlwind, Marc with a stolen weapon from the sarcophagus and you with anything you can get your hands on.

Of course, cornering a wanted mercenary and a Black Widow in a small space is a recipe for violence.

Harrow knows this.

You’ve heard a lot of gunshots in your life, even felt a good dozen or so. The scars littered across your body tell that story without uttering a single word.

So you know when you’ve been hit.

And you know that this one is bad. Really bad.

A shot to your stomach, then two more to your chest. You can feel your clavicle shatter and ribs crack, but you can’t hear yourself scream. Maybe you don’t even make a sound.

The pain is blinding and absent all at once, and the only thing besides the ringing in your ears is Marc’s panicked movements as he catches you before you fall.

“Hey, hey, hold on. You’re okay, I’ve gotcha.” His words are muffled, but you swear you feel him press a kiss to your forehead. Not such a bad way to go.

He’s cussing, holding you close and shielding you from the onslaught of bullets when he takes two shots to the back.

That’s all it takes.

He topples into the pool of water with you still cradled in his arms, and the darkness only gives you relief.

You don’t let yourself think about Sam, Bucky, and Steve. Or Tony and Peter. Not even Nat and Yelena.

About how the Avengers will hunt this man down. About how they’ll find your body in the water.

Will the world mourn a killer?

Well, the only “world” to you right now is the dark water you’re sinking in and the man holding you tight, so you suppose it doesn’t matter all that much.

———————————————————————

You open your eyes to a hell you never thought you’d return to.

A large, open room, cold and dreary. A woman looms in the corner and about twenty or so little girls look up at you expectantly.

When you turn to the wall covered in one large mirror, you’re met with something else.

A ballerina. White platter tutu bejeweled with gems, worn pointe shoes, your hair tightly pulled back.

The woman snaps her fingers. You instantly jump into the motions you thought you had forgotten, executing a routine with a kind of poised grace that would only ever come with the Red Room’s brutal training.

Finishing with a bow, not even breaking a sweat, you are dismissed, and the world seems to shift.

Now, the room you’re in is bathed in red light. When you look down, you’re in a Black Widow uniform.

You’re not too alarmed by this. No, what scares you is what you know lies in front of you. The bodies on the floor.

The sirens in the halls.

The man in the room, examining your technique.

There’s a fog in your head that you know all too well.

“The chemical seems to be working,” a familiar woman says. Her hair is done up in more braids than you can count. “It wasn’t even this successful on my pigs.”

“I don’t give a shit about your pigs,” the man growls. “I just can’t have another Widow escaping.”

You blink, and they’re gone. The room is white and the haze in your mind is receding. You’re still in the uniform, but you don’t mind that as much.

Wandering the bright hallways, you find yourself in a hospital. The lights seem to sway, and your balance is faultier than usual. Must be a side effect of the flashbacks.

Voices are echoing down the hallway, and you can’t help but feel that they sound… familiar.

“But Marc, Marc-“

“The hospital! That’s the imagination.”

Why would their voices be separate? They continue arguing as you turn the corner, just as Marc turns around.

His breath catches in his throat, as if he’s seeing, well, a ghost.

“Oh, c’mon,” he sighs. “That’s just cruel.” Marc walks forward, still not really believing in this whole “afterlife” deal or that you’re here.

Because that would mean you’re dead.

“Where are we?” you ask, hurrying around the corner only to see… uh, a hippo, and maybe more concerning, Steven.

You mutter under your breath in Russian, only stopping when Steven puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Uh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but-“

“We’re dead,” Marc finishes, groaning audibly. There’s no way around it. “Harrow, he- he shot you, and then…”

He blinks away the image of you, bloodied in his arms.

“Wait, if this really is the afterlife-” Marc says, approaching a door. “Then what’s on the other side-“

He flings the double doors open, revealing that the swaying of the building wasn’t a hallucination.

You’re on a boat. In the middle of a fucking desert. And you’re also apparently dead.

“Oh, what the shit,” you gasp. “Where the hell are we?”

Steven follows behind you. “It’s the underworld.”

You still don’t understand how the two are separate, even as Marc laughs and pats his alter on the shoulder. “I’m not crazy,” he sighs in relief. “I’m dead.”

“Where are we going?” you ask, watching as the boat coasts over dunes.

“We’re sailing to A’aru. To the Field of Reeds, right, Taweret?”

The hippo, apparently Taweret, nods. “Ah, so he’s the smart one, eh? Well, if your heart’s balanced in life, then you will spend eternity in paradise. The Field of Reeds!”

She coughs before reaching out her hands toward Marc and Steven. “But before we get there, I’ve just got to do a little…”

Her hands pass through their bodies like air, and when she pulls them back, in her hands are two, identical, white hearts.

“Oh, goody! It worked! Look at that! Here was little old me worrying I’d blow your chests wide open.” You wince, before stepping forward.

“I guess you have to do that to me?” you ask, hating the answer.

She nods, and just as gently removes your heart, cradling the three.

“You’re more of a standard case, really, no offense to you boys. We’ll weigh yours first.”

“What’s happening?” you whisper to Steven.

“She’s going to weigh your heart on the Scales of Justice against the Feather of Truth. The ancient Egyptians believed that the heart was the sign of who you really were in life.”

The space in your chest feels cold now.

“If the Scales balance by the time you end the journey, then your soul is permitted to pass into the Field of Reeds.”

You feel a chill run down your spine. “And if it doesn’t balance?”

“You get thrown overboard,” Taweret politely informs. “Whoo! The dead will drag you down into the Duat, where you will remain forever, frozen in sand.”

Wonderful.

You watch as she sets your heart on the scales, waiting for it to almost fall over from your heart’s weight.

But it doesn’t.

It sits rather politely, perfectly equal to the feather.

“I think your scale is broken,” you mumble. “I’ve done a lot of, um, less-than-balanced things in my life.”

The hippo shakes her head kindly. “No, the Scales aren’t wrong. However, your heart does feel heavier than most. Perhaps there’s something in the boat to help lighten the load?”

Next, she sets down Marc and Steven’s hearts. They had been talking in hushed tones a few paces away, but Taweret’s voice brings them back.

The scales are rapidly shifting, never stilling on one side or the other.

“What’s it doing, why is it moving like that?” Steven asks.

The goddess shrugs. “I don’t know. I do not have a card for this.” She carefully removes the hearts.

“Oh. It’s the hearts. They aren’t… full.” She chuckles a bit. “And trust me, I’m a goblet-half-full kind of gal, but… It’s like they each feel incomplete.”

Marc crosses his arms. “What does that mean?”

“Without balanced scales, the Duat will eventually claim your soul.”

“So what do we do?” you ask.

“This boat contains all of a life’s memories,” Taweret says. “Now, I don’t know what you two have been hiding, but my advice, get in there and show each other the truth. Balance your scales before we arrive at the Field of Reeds, or your souls will be destroyed.”

You don’t hesitate, hurriedly opening the doors, and jogging down the hallways as Marc and Steven reluctantly follow.

Behind the doors, you see flashes from their lives, intertwined and blurry behind the glass.

Behind you, they argue, going back and forth at an increasing volume until they start peeking in doors.

A scream comes from further into the ship. It’s a little boy. You and Steven take off after it, but only you seem to notice how Marc hangs back.

The sound came from a cafeteria, apparently. And at each table, there are posed bodies. Some bloodied, some strangled.

“Just a creepy caff filled with dead bodies,” Steven jokes as his voice shakes. “That’s all it is. No prizes for guessing whose room this is.”

Marc studies the bodies, before he starts naming locations. You know exactly what he’s doing.

“You killed them,” you say. It’s not a question.

“Surely not all of them?” Steven asks.

Marc is still looking at the countless people. “They were criminals. Murderers. Predators. The worst of the worst. Khonshu wanted them punished. It’s what he meant by protecting the travelers of the night.”

A pang of guilt stabs through you. He was killing the guilty. You killed the innocent. In another life, you might have been one of the bodies in this room.

“Marc! Look, the Scales are slowing down. It’s working,” Steven says.

“Okay, all right. So now what? Do you go next?”

Movement catches your eye. The small boy who called out before. But unlike the others, he’s alive.

“Marc, who’s that?” You point to him. The man pales visibly.

“Wait, wait, don’t go near him!” Marc pleads as Steven rushes after the boy, who runs off as quickly as he appeared.

Chasing after them both, you only catch up after Steven has entered a memory, with Marc banging on the locked door.

You start looking for other entrances when you see it.

All of Marc and Steven’s doors are white. They match the hospital and are denoted with a small crescent moon on the door handle. This one is made of dark, heavy metal. And you’d recognize that red insignia anywhere.

This is your door.

You don’t even bother looking in it. You see your worst memories every night, so why would you want to watch them again?

Turning back to Marc, you ignore the door completely.

“Let’s look for another way in, yes?”

You both race down the halls, peering in each door for Steven. However, the further you go, the more of your doors appear.

Marc can only catch glimpses of what’s inside. Red lights, gunfire, sharp commands in Russian. And lots of screaming.

He’s trying to push the sounds from that cave out of his head, but all he can hear is water. So much water.

When he opens his eyes, you’re staring into one of his doors. With a tentative press on the handle, it swings open.

The scene is a funeral. There’s no mistaking that. Two parents sit together, and a picture of a young boy is surrounded by flowers.

It all pieces together.

“Your brother,” you whisper. “He died.”

Steven nods from the staircase, soaked in rain and the memories of what he just saw.

“I want my RoRo back,” the mother says, voice hoarse. “I want him back.”

Light steps on the stairs reveal a younger Marc, eyes wide and teary. And you know exactly how this is going to go. Not that it makes it easier to watch.

You close your eyes as she blames the child, screaming as the family tries to calm her down. The boy races back up the stairs, and Steven follows with Marc not far behind.

You’re stuck in place, breath heaving as the mother, Wendy, sobs uncontrollably. Then you blink.

And you’re back in hell.

———————————————————————

Steven and Marc chase each other through more scenes of Marc’s childhood, through birthdays, and arguments, and when he eventually left that hell of a home and never looked back.

But when he tackles Steven, they land in a memory that isn’t theirs.

They see a little girl holding a gun. It’s clearly too large for her hands, given the way that her middle finger rests on the trigger rather than her index finger, but she aims it steadily.

She’s aiming at a man tied to a chair, bag over his head. Steven and Marc barely have time to look away before she shoots.

She doesn’t miss. You never miss.

The girl hands off the gun to a trainer, who nods in approval. As people come to clean the room and dispose of the body, she exits, the two alters following.

They both know it’s you. Neither of them want to say it.

The next room they enter, the girl is a bit older, maybe preteen.

An angry man with glasses looms over her while a woman stands in the corner.

“You failed the Red Room. We’ve put all this effort into making you perfect, and you can’t even finish a mission!” His hand flies out, striking her as Marc’s vision blurs. The sight is all too familiar.

“You… will be punished for your little ‘slip up’. Then, you’ll go back and clean up your mess. No witnesses can be left alive.”

The girl speaks in a way that seems detached. Cold, analytical. “But the witnesses aren’t-“

Another blow lands.

“Don’t speak out of line.”

The woman finally pipes up, her voice cold. “I believe she should go through her graduation ceremony. It will provide… motivation for the next mission.”

Apparently, there’s more to the ceremony than Marc or Steven know, because the little girl’s eyes go wide, and she finally shows emotion.

“No! No, please don’t make me! I’ll never fail you again, Dreykov, just don’t make me-“

He waves a hand. “Take her to the medical wing.”

The scream that the child in front of them lets out is guttural, and she pleads as she’s dragged fighting all the way to the door.

For a moment, she breaks from their grasp and falls begging at the man’s feet. It’s all breathless words and choked breaths.

Dreykov doesn’t even bat an eye. Not when the girl starts sobbing, not when the guards grab her again.

“We shouldn’t be watching this,” Steven says. “These aren’t our memories.”

Marc shakes his head, opening the next door. “We have to find (Y/N), and she’s probably in one of these.”

It reveals another hallway, but not one from the ship. A closed door beside them is marked as having a surgery in process. A hysterectomy. And from the sounds inside, you were both awake and without any form of sedative.

“No…” Steven says. Trying to block out the screaming and crying he can hear, muffled by the heavy door. “They didn’t…”

Marc nods. “I did some research on the Red Room a while back. They would… sterilize the agents for max efficiency.”

“Marc, we need to leave!” the British man exclaims. “These are very personal, traumatic memories that we’re sifting through, we don’t have the right to do this. You didn’t even want me seeing yours, and now you’re okay with looking at (Y/N)’s?”

The other man sighs. “How do we know she’s not digging around ours right now?” The two head for the next door, flinging it open. “For all we know, she’s watching what I didn’t want you to see right now-“

They stop in their tracks for two reasons.

Firstly, there’s a past version of you in the middle of the room, panting heavily. On the ground are 19 dead bodies. All young girls. You’re covered in blood.

Secondly, you’re here. Not just past you, but actual you. You’re perfectly still, watching the scene with an unreadable look on your face.

“(Y/N)?, what is this?”

You whip around at the sound of Steven’s voice. Only then, in the dim red lighting, do they see the tear tracks running down your face. You wipe them away.

“I got lost,” you whisper, voice soft. Your eyes keep flitting back to the bodies littering the floor.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. “I was with you guys, then I blinked, and-“ A silent sob tears its way out of your chest. “-and I was here again.”

Marc and Steven can’t help the way their chests ache at your voice. Not confident or even sarcastic. Just scared.

The former surveys the memory frozen in time. The same man from the earlier memory, Dreykov, stands with another woman.

“What happened here?” he asks, attempting to get your eyes off of the floor.

You wipe your eyes again. “That man, Dreykov. He’s the head of the Red Room. And Melina-“ You point to the woman next to him. “That’s Natasha and Yelena’s mom.”

“After Natasha escaped, they started working on a chemical that would allow Dreykov to control every aspect of his Widows. My group was the first successful run.”

Steven keeps his eyes averted from the bodies. “So why are they all dead?”

“Girls are sorted into groups of twenty when they’re trained to be Widows. Only one survives.”

You stare down at the bodies of your friends, almost your sisters, battered and bloody at your hands.

“I killed them all. I didn’t even hesitate. It was me or them, and I-“ Before you can start spiraling again, you are suddenly wrapped up in two sets of arms.

Letting yourself relax into the group hug, you exhale a heavy breath. Being completely enveloped also has the added bonus of hiding the scenery around you.

“It wasn’t-“

You cut Steven off. “Don’t tell me that it wasn’t me. It doesn’t change the fact that I did it.”

His voice is muffled in your hair. “That’s not what I was gonna say.” It was definitely what he was gonna say, but he quickly changes his plan. “But this, you’ve already lived through all of this. You’ve grown, and now you’re an Avenger. Hell, you charged right in to help us and now you’re dead too.”

“Speaking of which-“ Marc pipes up. “You don’t seem very concerned about being dead.

As they guide you out of the room and back into the ship's hallway, you sigh in relief. Your shoulders visibly relax, and the darkness clouding your eyes relents the tiniest bit.

You offer a smile that’s still a little sad, but a smile nonetheless.

“Oh, please. One of my best friends is a multiversal being that can rewrite reality on a whim. I wasn’t that worried about being dead for a little while,” you joke.

The three of you walk down the hallway until a door that isn’t yours appears. It shows the desert at night, with a similar body count to yours sprawled in the sand.

But there’s another figure. Marc. Dragging himself toward a temple. A thick trail of blood coats the sand.

“Oh, great,” Steven quips. “More dead people.”

Marc’s eyes don’t leave where he’s crawling on the ground. The amount of blood loss is astonishing, really.

“Taweret said you have to tell each other the truth, right?” you ask. “This is part of that.”

Marc steels his nerves before sharply nodding. They just saw some of your worst memories; it only feels right to reveal some of his own.

With a shaky hand, he opens the door.

[symphonic-scream]

New au coming in

Uhm. No powers au?? Not so straight au??

It's much more than that. And an Okujima au based on a fic I saw a little bit ago but I put a personal spin on it. Modern setting too

(link to the fic that inspired this; https://archiveofourown.org/works/49835698)

Kunikazu is trying to find a nice, age appropriate, high standing man to marry his daughter off to, after the previous selection was imprisoned for sexual assault. He's trying a little harder, but not by much

And who does he select? The younger brother of a big shot prosecutor, Makoto Niijima. He gets in contact with Sae, who helps arrange a contract for the two near-adults, putting the wedding date just after Haru's 18th birthday. Kunikazu has a clause added that they must show signs of producing an heir within 6 months or it's forfeit

Only, there's one issue. Makoto wants to be a woman

They've never had a moment alone together until the wedding night. The entire wedding was filled with reminders of the clause. Teasing remarks about the honeymoon, comments about them being young and attractive and stuff, and by the time they're in their hotel suite, Makoto feels like she's going to have a heart attack

Haru slowly steps out of the bathroom in a hotel robe, eyes a little blank. Her head is bowed, expecting to have to play the good little wife like her last fiance tried to train her to be. Then she looks up, and sees her "husband" not even focusing on her, but clearly sweating and breathing labored breaths

"Makoto?"

Makoto's still in the dark suit pants, suspenders on, vest unbuttoned but shirt still done up, bowtie undone, just. One shoe. Her hair's standing all over, sweat making it messy, and she looks pale.

"I have to tell you something. And, it might make you hate me."

She looks like she's going to vomit. Haru stays a few feet from the bed, glancing at the door. She's prepared to run if need be. She's had so many bad experiences, that she assumes the worst.

And Makoto tells her, in a soft, vulnerable voice, that she wants to be a woman. She's been trying to find a way to tell her sister when Sae announced the engagement. Makoto understands if Haru wants to tell her dad and get a real husband,

But she sits softly beside her, still in her robe. A hand finds her shoulder. Haru smiles gently, and they talk it out.

They have to meet the terms of the contract to keep Haru from being handed off to another shitty man, but they're not really together. They start off trying to be friends, gradually getting to know each other as they do things in the wrong order.

Two months after the wedding, and they find out Haru's pregnant. Kunikazu backs off a little bit, but he won't fully step away until he knows they have a son

Makoto dotes on her wife through the months. Vitamin regime in place, appointments with a well trusted doctor, running out late at night for every little craving. They're just friends, really, but Makoto puts all the effort in.

It's twins. They're born early one Friday morning, the girl, Nonoka, first. Her brother, Keima, comes an hour later

Kunikazu doesn't come to the hospital. Sae does, and smiles gently when her "brother" introduces her to her niece and nephew. Haru leans her head against Makoto's shoulder, feeling incredibly lucky for the hand she was dealt

Two months after the twins are born, Kunikazu checks in. He nods approvingly when his daughter introduces him to his grandson, and his small smile doesn't drop when Makoto does the same for his granddaughter. It's then that he fully steps aside

And, that night? It's when the young couple truly consider themselves one.

Haru comes back to the nursery after walking her father to his car, and finds Makoto leaning over the cribs, fingers dangling towards the tiring twins, lips spilling soft words about their Mama

She's speaking in soft words, since the babies are nearly asleep. Words about how Haru has been so accepting and warm to her about the gender stuff, and not only a great friend over the last year, but a light in Makoto's life. Her words are laced with love when she mutters that Haru has shown her what it truly feels like to be cared for by someone, and she hopes she's able to return even a fraction of that feeling

Quiet tears roll down Haru's face as she backs into the hallway. She's been crushing for a while, but to hear Makoto say those things? When she wasn't around? Just. Holy. So, when her wife steps out of the nursery a few minutes later, jumping slightly at how close Haru gets, it's only seconds before she's asking to kiss her

They'll talk it out. That they'll take it slow, and enjoy being in love. But that first kiss is, something neither will forget for as long as they live

From there, Makoto would plan to come out to Sae first. They do it while she's visiting to see the twins, who she adores. It's a shock, and Sae says she needs time to digest it.

A week later and she's at their door, ready to help plan a way to keep the family together while letting Makoto transition. Kunikazu would surely come for Haru and Keima if they aren't careful.

To keep things short, two years later they're free. They keep their shares in the company, but fully move from Tokyo. Somewhere smaller, much better for raising their kids and being left alone by corporate big wigs and media. Maybe it's one of their hometowns. Maybe it's Inaba. Who's to say?

Anyways. That's when they'd have their vows renewed, and Sae would watch the twins as they have a mini honeymoon, and a week later Makoto starts on hormones. From then on, life would be easier, more predictable. Stable.

Well,

Haru starts feeling unwell a month or two later. She doesn't think much of it at first, but she starts to remember that it's just like how she felt when she was pregnant with the twins. But it couldn't be, Makoto's on hormones, that means she cant-

And it hits Haru. The honeymoon 2. Fuck.

It's very much a head in hands moment. They laugh about it after the initial shock, and Makoto is even more doting this time around. Keima and Nonoka are both excited as well, as are the friends they've made/reunited with in their new town

This one will be a little boy, Hirohide. And maybe they get a cat, or a dog. Makoto works as an accountant for local businesses, and helping the locals with their taxes. Haru, a little later on, starts working at a little bakery. They're happy. Life is good

And I've have bits for the other Phantom Thieves in this later part. There's a mini plot for it, but I can share that later. I wanna know what y'all think about this one??

[williamaltman]

Ok so, I've been wanting to talk about the whole episode 5 recollection thing ever since we saw it on the previous trailers, and since there were more shots of it in the new one too I'm gonna take the opportunity...

So, in all the little shots we've seen, we have Louis going at Lestat. So I'm guessing the idea is that they're gonna make the """fight""" actually more of a fight and not just Louis getting beaten.

Personally, I am pleased with this, because I think it's basically the best way to deal with this whole mess. I never had an issue with Lestat and Louis "fighting". What I have issue with is how extremely violent it was, how Lestat actually seriously hurt Louis. If it had been just a punch or two (though that would already be domestic abuse) I wouldn't have been fazed, but his whole body was bruised and bleeding. There was a trail of blood when he got dragged across the street. He took months to heal. In their little "fights" (actually not sure if it's more than one) in the book, Louis was completely fine. Lestat never truly hurt him physically.

So, to sort of get into a writers mindset I guess, how could you "fix it"? Well, I don't think they could say it's a fake memory. I'm sorry but the idea that it was implanted by Armand for example is just ridiculous to me. I don't think it even makes much sense in the first place, but besides that, I hate the idea of just blaming Armand to make Lestat seem better. This black and white idea of one of them being the "bad boyfriend" and the other the "good one" that comes from both sides is NOT true to the characters imo, and I also think it's a shitty narrative to go with, storytelling wise.

Besides that, I'm not sure how else you could fully retcon it and say it was fake. I saw people theorizing that only the drop was fake, but again that seems to rely on the Armand fake memory theory, and I honestly don't think they'll retcon it since it was kinda the whole point thematically from what the writers said (that it's a parallel to Paul and that they were "very pleased with themselves" for it). And clearly the initial "fight" is not fake from the new shots we got. Obviously "Louis made it up" is not an option. I remember people talking about how it was from Claudia's POV, which I honestly don't remember whether that part was supposed to be from her diary or not, but even if that's the case the most that could do is establish that the details of the fall are messy because she wasn't there to see it, and that maybe Lestat wasn't so "triumphant" after it.

Lestat attacked Louis, just because he THOUGHT Louis wanted to leave with Claudia. He started it, which does matter imo (I don't think they can change that to it being Louis) and it was completely unequal. I know this fandom is lowkey plagued with gender role discourse, but Lestat, as a stronger vampire, has a huge advantage against Louis, akin to a man hitting his wife, but probably even bigger due to supernatural strength.

And that is to say, technically the main problems will probably still be there. Which is how it should be imo, cause after doing that they have to commit to it, at least to some extent. The idea should not be to fully exonerate Lestat, but to basically soften the blow (literally and figuratively) by adding some more nuance to it. The writers said themselves that they want Louis to be belieavable as a victim.

So, I'm guessing that what we're gonna see is Louis defending himself, getting some hits against Lestat, and that Lestat was hurt too, and maybe something new about the fall. Which honestly is gonna give me some peace of mind. I get why people don't like the idea of discrediting Louis' account of the event, and of how the fandom can turn on him if he's not some perfect victim... But there was (is) just something in me that can't fully ship Loustat as much as I did before with that having happened.

Like, for a while I have basically just chosen to ignore it as much as possible. I don't rewatch the episode, I skip it during reactions, I skip the beginning of episode 6 where we see how Louis is after. I have acknowledged it many times but more as like a meta thing that happened. I probably wouldn't say it's triggering, but it just crossed a line to me and I'm gonna welcome (almost) anything they do to make it less bad than it seemed, not because I want for Louis to come off as a liar or anything but just like... For my own relief, to kinda have a bit of weight off my shoulders when watching the show and shipping them? Obviously I don't know anything for sure and I might be wrong about some things I'm guessing, but not having it be so one-sided at least already helps a bit. (Please don't come here to say I'm a weak bitch who can't handle dark gothic romance or some bullshit like that. I've already talked about that back when the scene aired and if you think it's a simple as that you're probably just dumb and insensitive)

[cursed-blade-gf]

Ok, could be entirely wrong about this, but this is how I’m going to interpret it, so don’t correct me…

Shadow of the Erdtree answered a lot of lingering lore questions that base game didn’t really answer, so it closed several threads.

However, the thing that bothered me early dlc was why? Why was Miquella there in the first place? What was the point? I thought he was off attempting to find a cure for his sister’s condition, you know, like a good sibling would. She’s now down to a single full limb, no eyes, and is functioning on prosthetics (still to more than full effect, but that doesn’t erase the disability of it all) and is sitting waiting for him to return after all the work she put in trying to help him ascend. Even putting her life at risk by marching an army out to Caelid to put down this rogue warlord.

Miquella, however, was misguided as most aspiring gods are. He thought his version of compassion was to ascend to the throne with that same guy (who mutilated and kickstarted the scarlet rot in his sister btw) and usher in a new age of compassion across the Lands Between and set a new precedent for the world. While, back at home, Malenia was caving in to the Scarlet Rot on a needle that wasn’t doing its job anymore, thinking that he would return hopefully soon with a cure.

We have no clue how long ago the events of the Shattering War took place. For all we know, it could have been decades ago previous to the awakening of the Tarnished in Limgrave. Time is messy and unconfirmed in a lot of places so who really knows the time table on all of this, but my conclusion is this:

Miquella was so focused on his illusions of grandeur in the Shadow Realm (still makes me laugh) and putting his own plans into motion that he lost sight and care for the fate of his sister. He said he would ascend to the throne at any cost, so he cared little for the fact that his sister was literally rotting under the guise of being compassionate and caring and loving so deeply the people of the Lands Between that he lost his priority for his own sister, who never really wanted the throne anyway, but cared so deeply for her brother that she not only went to war and jumpstarted the rot in her own body in pursuit of being a help for him, but then was carried home by Finlay and STILL proceeded to hole up in the Haligtree waiting for his return.

Now, if Miquella truly cared more for his sister than he did the throne, he would have made more of an effort to halt the spreading of the rot, which we learned is entirely possible through Millicent’s questline by means of an unnalloyed gold needle that prevents divine intervention or interference of which the rot was perpetuated by a Greater Will of some nature. That and the fact that Radahn was very much still alive post-Shattering War, so instead of using that time while Radahn was decaying out in his own wastes to slow the spread of the Scarlet Rot, he instead abandons his sister to go argue with his brother, the Impaler instead, which honestly, the zealot that Messmer is, was probably a lost cause in the first place.

Also, it really wasn’t Miquella’s problem. The Lands Between were not his responsibility. Melina was out there doing things, chosen by her mother, Marika, to set things right, burn the Erdtree, find a worthy candidate for Lord despite the hundreds of threats standing in said candidate’s way including Marika herself who had been merged with her husband, Radagon (still not clear why that was necessary or anything), but my point being was that their was a plan in place. Kind of a long shot, but Melina was raised by her mother TO DO EXACTLY THAT, making me believe this was the plan all along and most didn’t like that decision and attempted to take fate for themselves (like Rykard, Miquella, Godfrey, even Godrick despite him being overwhelmingly inept at, well, everything). It’s also clear to me that Miquella cared very little for Mohg, who also put himself on the line for Miquella and ended up biting it to a random Tarnished who got curious. Ansbach clearly shared ill will towards Miquella with his attempts to reclaim Mohg’s dignity and his role in the defeat of Miquella’s allies and his role in the battle against Radahn while assisting the Tarnished.

TLDR: Miquella got either hungry for power or a MASSIVE savior complex and, in a perfectionist manner becoming of only him, made a long form journey beyond the realms to resurrect a warlord he chose as his consort, leaving behind a sister, sick with rot but willing to do anything for him who believed he would return with a cure, only for him too spend an inordinate amount of time arguing with their estranged sibling, Messmer, and attempting to become Elden Lord rather than actually spend the time to care for his ailing sister. Compassionate indeed…

Again, I’m probably not correct about a bit of this, but this makes the most sense in my brain and honestly, unless we get another DLC, which I’m pretty sure we’re not, I like this take one the story so I’m not really interested in being corrected at all, so enjoy the rant I guess?

[amywritesthings]

SEEING YOU, SEEING ME (7/7)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 600

Summary: Five Weeks Later - The Epilogue of Our Story

Warnings: None; this is just a finale piece.

( Read on AO3 )

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

EPILOGUE

.

FIVE WEEKS LATER

The dilapidated building that houses Tess and Joel is on your route to the Boston Quarantine Zone occupation office.

It's a thought that never occurred until the moment you stepped foot out of their small studio apartment to greet broad daylight for the first time in days. It's an unassuming space in a row of nothingness, but now?

You thought its significant would mean nothing by now.

You still look every time you pass.

Jobs are just as they’ve always been: messy. Unpleasant. Tiring. From street sweeps to sewage to trash collection, you keep your hands busy when you mind should not. Your arms ache from hard labor.

By the time sunset arrives, you’re too exhausted to dream. 

It’s better this way.

Joel Miller doesn’t speak to you; can’t, when he’s nowhere to be found. He signs up for the hardened jobs in the early morning and twilight hours, away from the noise and the crowds. At least, that's what you assuming. He could be running out-of-bounds errands for Tess or trading jobs with that brother of his. 

Tess doesn’t bring him up when you pass her in the food kitchen lines. Small pleasantries and jabbing jokes, just like before. 

The week spent at their place is virtually a forgotten memory.

(Is it better to be seen once and never again, then not at all?)

On your way to your next sweep shift, Jeanine absently greets you at the touch point, Fedra-issued broom in hand. Yours is the last in the trash can in which they're housed.

She trades you for your proof of labor papers (I was here) and stamps a blank entry to get started. You greet her with just as bland of a reply and take the mangled thing, already feeling the ache in your bones when your hand closes around the handle.

For six grueling hours, you mind your business cleaning up the streets and sidewalks of the third quadrant — sweeping dirtied paths, collecting debris near alleyways, tossing tattered and forgotten Firefly flyers into trash bags.

In a minute, you’ll be free from another day of hardship and free to sit in your apartment alone.

Then you feel something brush against the small of your back.

Immediately you rip your gaze from the ground to connect with a familiar sight: salt and pepper hair, scruffy beard, a worn olive flannel rolled up to his elbows; Joel Miller’s dark eyes stare down at you with an indiscernible question.

Your lips part to say hello, but the words die on your tongue.

All you can do is stare back.

He says nothing, but his hand lingers on your shirt. Waiting.

Joel's drops his arm to his side and pointedly turns his chin towards the nearby alleyway. Like a magnet, your eyes follow.

Then he takes to a slow stroll, leaving you to cross the street and into the threshold where wandering eyes cannot see him.

But you can.

You don’t expect him to stop abruptly at a door, pulling the rusted thing wide open. 

He turns to sweep his hand towards it, gesturing an unspoken invitation.

Your stomach flutters with a feeling you abandoned in a bed that didn’t belong to you.

It's reckless, but you'll take reckless if that's what he's willing to give.

Gently you situate the broom's handle against the adjacent brick wall and cross the street, too.

It only takes two steps to make it to the curb.

Twelve to meet him at the door.

You are the first to enter.

Joel Miller is the last to leave.

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Author's Note: That's a wrap! I can't believe this is finished, and I couldn't be more proud of the story. Of course, this does not have to be the end, not really! My one shot "reckless." continues these two in the future, and I am happy to hear your thoughts and potentially take story requests in my inbox.

For now, I bid you adieu for the airport. Thank you for the early birthday wishes.