#correction: bad knife jokes

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟿𝚔 || 𝐎𝐔𝐓-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐃

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You ask Sirius if he’d still love you if you were a worm.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Sirius Black x fem!reader

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual evening buzz. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the scattered armchairs and sofas where students unwound after a long day. Yet, something was distinctly different about this particular evening, and it wasn’t just the sight of Remus Lupin trying to hide a smile behind his book.

Sirius Black—usually the life of the party, the source of everyone's laughter—was pacing the room with the expression of a man who had just been told he was being disowned (again).

The reason? You, his usually forgiving and smitten girlfriend, were sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, glaring at him with the intensity of a thousand howlers. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife—or at least thick enough for Lily Evans to finally take notice.

“What’s going on with you two?” she asked, setting down her Muggle novel and looking between you and Sirius with a raised eyebrow.

James perked up immediately. “Yeah, Pads, why do you look like a puppy that’s been kicked? Did you finally tell her that awful joke about the werewolf and the moon?”

Remus shot him a look. “Don’t even think about it, James.”

But Sirius was too busy grovelling to engage in their usual banter. “It wasn’t a joke! I was just being honest!” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with the kind of desperation that made Peter look up from his sweets.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a look that could have curdled milk. “Honest? You call that honesty? You could have at least pretended to be romantic!”

Peter, munching on a chocolate frog, looked between the two of you in confusion. “What did you do, Pads?”

Lily leaned in closer. “Yeah, what did you say that was so terrible?”

You finally looked up from your magazine, fixing Sirius with a glare that could melt the snow on the highest peak of the Forbidden Forest. “Do you want to tell them, or should I?”

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again—like a fish out of water. “It’s not that bad…”

“Not that bad?” you scoffed, slamming the magazine shut. “I asked him a simple, hypothetical question—”

“A trap,” Sirius interjected quickly, holding up a finger. “A trap disguised as a question.”

You ignored him, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “I asked if he would still love me if I were a worm.”

A beat of silence.

Then, James erupted into laughter, nearly toppling out of his chair. “A worm? You asked him if he’d still love you if you were a worm?”

Remus was struggling to keep a straight face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked between you and Sirius. “And… what did you say, Sirius?”

Sirius looked pained. “I… I said no.”

James fell out of his chair for real this time, clutching his sides as he howled with laughter.

Lily, however, looked scandalized. “You said no?”

Sirius nodded helplessly. “But—”

Lily cut him off with a look of pure betrayal. “Why would you say no? She asked you if you would still love her as a worm, Sirius! The correct answer is always yes!”

“I know that now!” Sirius exclaimed, looking around the room as if begging for backup. “But at the time, I wasn’t thinking about the emotional implications! I was thinking about the logistics!”

James was gasping for air, tears streaming down his face as he tried to compose himself. “Oh Merlin, this is too good. Padfoot, mate, you’ve really done it this time.”

“What logistics?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not that complicated! Would you still love me or not?”

Sirius threw his hands up in the air. “But you’d be a worm! How am I supposed to know it’s you? What if I accidentally step on you, or you get eaten by a bird? And what would we even do together? It’s not like we could… I don’t know, go on dates or—”

You rolled your eyes so hard you could’ve seen the back of your skull. “That’s not the point, Sirius! The point is that you didn’t even hesitate to say no. I could’ve been anything—a cat, a dog, a bloody flobberworm—and you just shot me down!”

Sirius threw his hands up in the air. “Well, yeah! I mean, how am I supposed to love a worm? It doesn’t even have a face! Or a personality! It’s just… squirmy and gross!”

You shot him a withering look. “So that’s it, then? You’re only with me because I have a face?”

“Wha—no!” Sirius spluttered, eyes wide. “That’s not what I meant at all!”

Remus, barely containing his amusement, decided to chime in. “Pads, I think what she’s trying to say is that you should’ve said yes, no matter how ridiculous the question was.”

Sirius looked like he was having an existential crisis. “But it’s a worm! How am I supposed to kiss a worm? Or hold hands? Or—”

You cut him off, your voice icy. “Oh, so that’s all I am to you? Someone to kiss and hold hands with?”

Sirius’s eyes widened in alarm. “No! That’s not it at all!”

James was now thoroughly enjoying the show. “Sounds like it to me, Pads. You’re only in it for the snogging.”

Peter, ever the peacemaker, tried to step in. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that…”

But you were on a roll now, standing up from the sofa and glaring down at Sirius, who was still kneeling in front of you. “If I were a worm, Sirius, I’d have a heart, even if it’s small and squishy! But apparently, that’s not enough for you!”

Sirius, now in full panic mode, reached for your hands, trying to make you sit back down. “But I don’t want you to be a worm! I love you as you are—human, beautiful, with a proper face!”

You yanked your hands back, crossing your arms again. “So you only love me because I’m not a worm. Not because of who I am.”

Remus snickered behind his book. “You’re in deep now, mate.”

Sirius shot him a desperate look. “Not helping, Moony.”

Remus decided to step in. “Sirius, you have to understand—these questions aren’t about the actual scenario. It’s about the sentiment behind them. She was looking for reassurance that your love is unconditional.”

Sirius threw his hands up. "But it was a worm! I thought honesty was important!"

You finally looked up, narrowing your eyes at him. "Honesty? You just admitted you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm, Sirius. That’s not honesty, that’s cruelty!"

Peter piped up, "But… how would he know if the worm was you?"

Everyone turned to Peter, who shrinked slightly under the attention. "I mean… if you were a worm, how would Sirius know? And… does a worm even have feelings?"

Lily shakes her head, still laughing. "You boys are impossible. The worm is a metaphor, you idiot!”

Sirius rubbed the back of his head, still looking confused. “A metaphor for what?”

You sighed, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “For love, Sirius. For whether or not you’d love me no matter what.”

Realization dawned on Sirius’s face, and he looked genuinely horrified. “Oh… Oh. I see now.”

James, having finally caught his breath, piped up, “Well, it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? You’ve got to make it up to her now, Padfoot.”

Peter nodded sagely. “You really messed up this time, Sirius. Girls don’t just ask you if you’d love them as a worm for no reason.”

Sirius turned to you, eyes wide with desperation. “Okay, I get it now. I was wrong. I should’ve said yes. I should’ve said I’d love you even if you were the slimiest, wriggliest worm in the world.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting him squirm under your gaze for a moment before speaking. “And why should I believe you?”

“Because,” Sirius said, his voice softening as he took your hands in his, “I love you. And I don’t care if you’re a worm, or a dog, or a… or a Blast-Ended Skrewt. I love you for who you are, not what you are. And if you were a worm, I’d find a way to make it work. I’d carry you around in a little jar, and I’d protect you from birds, and… and I’d even learn what worms like to eat!”

But you weren’t having it. “Too late for that, Black. You’ve already made your feelings clear.”

James leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. “You know, Pads, if you’d just said yes in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this mess. But now, she knows your true feelings.”

Sirius turned back to you, his expression one of pure, unadulterated pleading. “Please, love, I’m sorry. I was just being stupid. You know I’d love you no matter what, even if you were… I don’t know, a Blast-Ended Skrewt!”

You blinked at him. “A Blast-Ended Skrewt?”

Sirius nodded earnestly. “Yes! Anything but a worm!”

Remus couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “And you think that’s better?”

Sirius groaned, running his hands through his hair again. “Okay, bad example. But you get what I mean, right? I’m sorry. I love you—worm, human, Skrewt, whatever.”

You paused, staring down at him as he knelt before you, looking thoroughly pathetic. The room was silent, all eyes on you as they waited to see what you would do next.

Finally, you sighed and sat back down, though you still kept your arms crossed. “Fine. I forgive you. But you’d better start thinking before you answer stupid questions in the future.”

Sirius beamed, his relief palpable as he quickly scooted closer to you on the sofa. “I promise! No more stupid answers!”

James leaned over, whispering to Remus. “Bet he’ll say yes to anything she asks now.”

Remus smirked. “No doubt about it.”

Sirius, now fully back in your good graces, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple. “So, just to be clear… I’d love you no matter what, even if you were a worm. A very cute worm.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, though you tried to hide it. “Good. Because if you ever hesitate again, I might just have to turn you into one.”

Sirius laughed, pulling you closer. “And I’d still find a way to love you.”

James, watching the two of you, sighed dramatically. “Merlin, if this is what love is like, maybe I’m better off single.”

Lily rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. “Oh, please. You’d have said the same thing if I’d asked you.”

James grinned, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You wouldn’t have to ask. I’d love you no matter what.”

Lily blushed, playfully shoving him away. “You’re ridiculous.”

James smirked. “So, Sirius, if she were a Blast-Ended Skrewt—”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, “We are not going down that road again.”

Hope you all liked it!

[fishfission-dc]

Batfamily Powerpoint Night! (Part 9: Barbara)

<<Part 8: Duke    |    Part 10: Alfred >>

[Masterlist]

Barbara: Alright, my turn!

Tim: Frankly I’m terrified for what’s about to happen

Dick: Oh Babs will be nice, don’t worry :)

Dick: I stand corrected

Steph: Oh god

Bruce: [sighs and puts his head in his hands]

Barbara: I organized it roughly from newest vigilantes to oldest, since more patrolling means more room for spectacular failures

Duke: It was a bad day for me

Jason: HA

Steph: Been there, done that. Not on TV though that really sucks man.

Steph: NOOOOOO

Tim: ONE SQUARED?

Steph: I GOT CONFUSED

Jason: [Hysterical laughter]

Damian: One multiplied by one?!

Steph: I THOUGHT IT MADE TWO I UNDERSTAND MY MISTAKE

Duke: From this mask view footage Batman is just watching this go down

Bruce: He said he didn’t want help. Felt like a teaching moment.

Damian: (muttering) I was fine.

Dick: Damian we were not going to drive you to 5th grade with a knife in your liver.

Steph: You’ve had this footage for four years?!

Barbara: I keep a file for blackmail. Cass doesn’t really have much, though.

Cass: (signing) I did learn the dance. Eventually.

Tim: WILL THIS TORMENT EVER END

Jason: YOU CRASHED THE BATMOBILE INTO A WALMART, TIMMY.

Steph: You deserve every joke we make about this

Damian: Your idiocy must be remembered

Dick: Yeah Tim this is pretty bad

Jason: Can I have that mask view footage

Barbara: I got ya

Tim: I hate it here

Jason: I really can’t defend this one

Dick: Why...? Did you shoot the trashcan?

Jason: I thought it was looking at me funny

Damian: The trashcan?

Jason: I was up for 52 hours give me a break.

Barbara: Do you want to tell them why you pulled two all-nighters in a row? Or should I?

Jason: You are an evil, evil woman. How do you even- nevermind. Of course you know everything, why do I even wonder. And for the record, the first night I stayed up for a case.

Barbara: And the second night was for Animal Crossing.

Jason: ...perhaps.

Duke: Oh my god.

Steph: And you laughed at me?

Bruce: (sighs)

Steph: Stop you were adorable in high school

Barbara: Thank you, but the braces? The acne? The bangs? 15 year old Barbara had no idea what she was doing.

Dick: I for one thought you were very cute in high school.

Jason: Stop flirting or I will leave

Bruce: Why were you both on a roof at night in your school uniforms?

Dick: I think let’s move on

Dick: Nevermind nevermind go back

Tim: Oh my god, Dick.

Duke: ”Purposely” ?!

Dick: I was nine

Damian: I knew better by age 9.

Bruce: Lessons were learned. I hope.

Jason: I’m starting to think I was one of the better Robins

Dick: I felt like I see sounds for three days...

Bruce: All traces of this were wiped from the internet.

Barbara: Oh Bruce, you know I’m better than that.

Dick: Hold on, hold on, we need an explanation.

Alfred: (as he walks by) A little too much to drink goes a long way...

Tim: YOU WERE DRUNK? ON PATROL?

Jason: No way. Even I haven’t been that stupid.

Duke: What did you buy at CVS

Bruce: ...apparently... I bought lollipops.

Steph: “Apparently” as in the next morning you didn’t remember putting on the Batsuit, going to CVS, buying lollipops, and talking to a guy with an audio recording device?

Bruce: ...yes.

Cass: (signing) Very bad. Very funny, but very bad.

Damian: Also an ineffective use of a smoke bomb if this civilian saw you walk away...

Bruce: Barbara, you have made your point.

<<Part 8: Duke    |    Part 10: Alfred >>

[Masterlist]

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)    

word count: 6.8k requested: yes. here and here :) 

summary:  “six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. Tommy's goddamn brother, no less.”

warnings: Jackson era, mentions of marijuana use, age gap (unspecified), sliiightly dub!con, smut (PiV, unprotected), creampie, overstimulation, pussy spanking, choking, spit kink, slight knife kink (do not look at me), dom!Joel (brat tamer!Joel if you squint), slight sir kink, so much dirty talk, lots of begging, degradation kink, dacryphilia, mean!Joel, this is just shameless smut i am horrible  notes: okay i kind of modified these asks but I thought it’d be fun to write it like this!!! as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because i am INSANE! xoxo

(  read the sequel other Joel fics:     fever       landmines    )

★  

to be completely honest, you never would’ve guessed you’d move to Wyoming. 

of course, in this world you didn't really have much of a choice of where you end up; it was hard to travel, yes, but there was some guiding hand that invisibly pushed you upon Jackson in the middle of a really rough winter. 

a girl, lost and on her own through the dangerous sprawls of what's left of the United States - of course Tommy and Maria had accepted you into the community; you were resourceful, willing, and strong-headed. 

most of Jackson was nice.

the people were good, the community functioned, and you were finally safe - you found a job working partly as a patrolman if an extra hand was needed, but mostly as a gardener.

it was a beautiful basin valley with sprawling mountains that glittered in the snow even during summer. 

you'd only been there for - what, maybe half a year? six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. 

Tommy's goddamn brother, no less. 

you didn't particularly get off on the correct foot with Joel Miller. when he showed up in town, people were thrown off. you surely understood that - but it was Tommy's brother, and Tommy insisted he would be fine; he and the girl with him had already been 'round Jackson before, leaving just a week or so before you showed up, apparently. 

you'd definitely heard about him. 

coincidentally, you'd actually moved into the house that Tommy had wanted Joel to have; the house that had the spare girl's bedroom which Ellie came through to ravage once they came back into town. (apparently the towels at Joel's were too rough no matter how many times they were washed, and Ellie really liked that Tamagotchi you'd found in the bedroom she once slept in.) 

maybe that'd already put him off, the short time in which Ellie had found company in you. who knows. 

but unfortunately, your first impression of him was muddled by a very real lens of beer-goggles and a long week's aching exhaustion in your brain. he was large, a tall man whose disposition dripped of domineering power; he didn't trust anybody here and by the looks of it, they didn't particularly adore him. he kept to himself besides Tommy -  who unfortunately along with his wife were really your closest comrades in the community. 

you almost felt bad for him, because that's how many people saw you at first. but on that night, you were just drunk enough, as you greeted Maria and Tommy at the bar with smiles and a joke about your libido, that you didn't quite realize that Tommy's big brother Joel was sat there, eyes watching you with a glimmer of something lurking behind the rim of the beer bottle. 

to be fair: everybody in this life is unkind in their first impressions. that's just how the world is now - 'every man for himself' is an unfortunately ugly reality and those who are too soft to see that are rarely spared the gore.

but when Tommy introduces you to Joel with a huff of a laugh and a friendly slap on your shoulder, Joel's eyes are distrusting, judging. he doesn’t say anything to you.

you try not to be offended. 

"pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Miller." you nod with a grin, your cheeks hot with slight intoxication as his large, calloused palm slips into yours. his grip is tight - your wince is covered with your words as you momentarily shoot Maria a look, turning back to the man in front of you.

"I met your girl earlier. stormed into my house like she owned the damn thing. was lookin' for some stuff she'd found last time, I guess. I'm just glad she didn't find my collection of big-girl toys." 

okay. okay, yeah, maybe you are too drunk. Maria laughs, at least, and Tommy lets out a chuckle, eyes flickering to Joel. but he just hums, eyes glancing over you once more before returning to nurse his dark beer with a furrow of his brows. “right.”

and pathetic as it is, he was too damn irresistible; you’d imagined that stare -that brooding scowl- one too many times in the dead of night, hands down your pants or in a stranger’s bed. 

and it hadn't gotten better in the months following. 

it was of circumstances most unfortunate for you that Joel and Ellie moved into a house just a few down from you - as much as you wished to just never see the man and his censorious stare, it was unavoidable. especially when Ellie showed up nearly day-to-day with questions, excuses, or even just complaints of boredom to coax you into letting her inside your house. 

a week or so ago, you’d overheard Tommy in a hushed voice down at the dining hall trying to convince Joel it was a good thing, that Ellie was learning to garden, learning about woman stuff (yes, he actually fucking said that), and - god forbid- make friends. 

but you love Ellie.

she in't like Joel. she’s funny, and lively, and easy-going once you warmed up to her. in fact, you actually started to collect things from around town to show her on her ceremonious visits; books, tattered board games, once you even found a trumpet in the crawlspace of your old house. it was rusty and honestly probably still had dried saliva from whichever fifth-grader played it way back before the outbreak, but it was enough to entertain you and the fifteen-year-old girl for hours even if neither of you knew how to play it. 

and maybe it was after Ellie mentioned to you with a giggle that Joel complains about you calling him ‘Mr. Miller,’ or maybe it was when she said he’d always ask about you and what you’re like whenever she returned from your days together. 

no matter what the catalyst really was, you just know you have it bad for that man, in the worst way - because he is a fucking asshole. 

but the worst of it was when Joel and you get paired up to patrol together on the outskirts. it means hours together of breathing and awkward looks, silence from you because he was silent and clearly wanted nothing to do with you. 

you suffered through hours of Joel’s rugged sageness for survival, tugging you effortlessly through boulders, lifting yourselves high through dilapidated structures in the middle of the wilderness. he was strong and capable and fucking sexy, and that made it all the more unbearable when snide comments about your youth or your inexperience or your lack of punctuality would pass his lips. it was annoying how hot it made you. 

as the summer rolled around, the horde was growing ever-present at the lips of Jackson county, festering like the moss that spreads along the woodsy forests in the northwest - hence your increased activity with the others who patrol the area and keep the community safe. 

he was a many of almost no words, and though you were in no way the same when you were around people you trust, the man just brings out the skeptic in you - so for weeks, it was days of the two of you walking in silence, the only noise being weak impasses and jabs at the other’s self-esteem all veiled by a smirk or an eye-roll. 

and still, each day out passed with your untrustworthy gazes pinned on the horizon just as much on each other's trigger fingers.

-- 

you're at your wit's end on one Friday evening as you finally return into town from patrol with him. 

Joel is a man plagued by too many unnamed illnesses; the likes of which you so fondly call in your head 'can't-accept-help-itis' and 'stubborn-old-asshole-luenza.' part of his symptoms render him unable to say full sentences to you without a judgmental look or a skeptical scoff, and sure you're not always the best judge of character, but you're confident that Joel has his eyes on your backside every single time you bend over to move your marker on the trail. he’s thought about it, too. 

but right now, you’re so tense you’re about to snap. 

his gaze hasn't left your profile for - you swear to god - almost thirty fucking minutes. like, nearly the whole walk from the first outpost. he’s been staring at you like you’re a ghost, or a second head sprouted from your neck. 

the heat of the summer night is unsullied; though you’re high in elevation, the warm wind blows a gust over your bare knees and ruffles your hair, coaxing a damp feeling to settle between your thighs under his gaze. 

"if you stare any harder at me, you'll get a fucking nose bleed." you sneer, keeping your eyes ahead as you grit your teeth. his gaze is burning into your side and with your words, they maintain their heat. 

whatever he was thinking, he keeps it to himself. you glare at his own profile, thick thighs, sturdy chest, hair that blows gently in the warm air. his jaw, glinting against the lights that guide you back into town. at least he’s looked away from you. good.

your victorious smirk is wiped off of your lips with his next words, the first in several hours from him besides grunts and directives. "d'you have the logs on you?" 

you look at him with revelation. "shit." you sigh shaking your head, "they're- they're at home." 

his face slides into a look of disdain, deep vexation at the task of now going back with you to your own house to sign the logs and confirm your findings for this patrol. "great." he mutters, feet kicking into gear to hightail it up the street, towards your house. 

the heat is swirling around your legs in the darkening evening as you finally enter your house, sighing into the empty air. the lights flicker when you switch them on, and you'd bring yourself to be more embarrassed about the disheveled state of your things if it had been anyone else with you. 

it doesn’t even matter, after all; his sights are set one one incriminating little piece of evidence in the corner of the living room. 

the small nub that sits on the tray by your windowsill seems to be more salient for Joel than the hurricane that threw your belongings across the space. 

your hands fall onto your hips, sighing as he accusingly lifts it from its ashy grave, eyes furrowed in irritation. your flannel sticks to your sleeves in the heat as his eyes meet yours. 

"is this- 's this marijuana?" he's incredulous as his fingers pinch the burnt-out roach, and you screw your brows at him; is he serious? you ignore the dwarfed look of the small old joint in his large hand, instead rolling your eyes. "yeah, some folks call it weed. you can smoke it and it makes you feel real good. you ever heard of it, Mr. Miller?" you snark, the sarcasm spilling from your lips deliciously; Joel eats it up like a man starved, his jaw ticking as he tilts his head. 

you know he secretly loves when you taunt him with the honorific; yes, it gets on his nerves, but there’s a secret air about him that suggests he likes it that way. it is easier to blur the lines between hate and desire than affection and desire, after all. 

"Ellie comes over here every day." he hisses, eyes sharp. you blink slowly at him, trying to fight the laugh that creeps up your throat; his gaze is dark, furious - did he think you were smoking weed with the girl? she's, like, thirteen. (fifteen, she corrects you in your mind. but still.) 

"that’s correct." you confirm, turning from him to search the kitchen for the log you'd forgotten in your haste to leave. his footsteps ring angry onto the floorboards. "if you're worried about that, I’d never smoke around her. 'm not that disrespectful." you defend, avoiding eye contact as you shuffle through your drawer of junk. 

"doesn’t matter. she won't be coming round much more." he threatens it - tests the waters. as if he has the authority to punish you.

you lift a brow at him, "don’t you think she should be able to make that choice?" you throw back at him, tossing your switchblade onto the table to your right as you sort through the miscellaneous items with both hands. 

uh oh, that struck a nerve in the man. 

his eyes sharpen as he breathes harsh at your words; "don't talk about things you know nothing about, girl." he snaps, crossing his arms, "now find the fucking log so I can leave." 

you glare at him, gesturing in front of you; your eyes scream no shit, Joel, I’m looking. 

it's silent as you search through the drawer, gritting your teeth in the tense silence of anger, thicker than molasses. 

you click your jaw, refusing to let it go, let him think he won. 

"I do have self respect, y'know." you pipe up, lifting a brow as you finally stumble upon the log, pulling a dying pen from the drawer and scribbling notes as you plop down on a wooden chair at your kitchen table.

Joel stays standing; it does not go unnoticed when his eyes take in the contours of your body, the clothes that stick to you in the heat of the summer; a pair of jean shorts, torn from years of use, and a thin tank top, covered with an unbuttoned flannel. his eyes sear into you at your words.

wow. fuck him. 

(no, not like fuck him, but- fuck him.) 

"never said you didn't, darlin'." he mutters condescendingly, the pet name leaving his mouth bitterly. any form of backlash you were going to unleash on his dies in your throat quickly when he leans over your shoulder to sign his own name next to yours. your eyes widen to search his face as his own skim over your account of the patrol. he's- wow, he's closer to you than you would have expected. 

holy shit. smoky swirls of gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey. they fill your nostrils, dizzying your mind as you let out a stuttered breath - it's hot in here... your eyes glance as a small lick of sweat trickles down his neck. your throat is dry, heat swirling in your abdomen as he hums, "jus' think Ellie should start hangin' around with others." 

"why's that?" you snap, daring him to say it. fuck, your heart is pounding in your chest. oh, if he just admits it; that he thinks he's better than you, that he thinks you're pathetic - lord, you yearn for it, you’d have a fucking field day. you want an excuse to hit him. or bite him.

fuck Joel Miller, and- okay, fine. fuck him, too. 

his brows are furrowed as he glares hawkishly at your stubborn form; his gaze is serrated with disdain, jaw clenching with the words you're just begging him to admit.

"she's been cussin' and speaking...vulgar." he mutters, eyes flickering away from you. your jaw unhinges as you huff in surprise; he has the audacity to accuse you for teaching her to be foul-mouthed? hadn't she traveled with him for, what, a year? she’s a teenager - that’s what they do. 

"oh, please." you snap, "that girl was far from a princess when you showed up here, you know." you mutter, tossing a look over your shoulder up at him, the buttons undone at the top of his shirt staring at you, mocking you. 

"I know." he dismisses. his hand falls to stable himself on the back of your chair as he leans down towards you, "but you ain't helping. don't need her gettin' into any more trouble." 

you narrow your eyes, "trouble?" you parrot, accusing. 

the air is warm, thick as you cross your arms, the windows open and flowing the outside summer air into your nostrils. "how could I be trouble? you hardly know me." you snap, offended. you swirl with irritation. 

"because I listen. people think you're harsh. untrustworthy." he spits, smirking down at you as if his words are poison that'll dissolve your whole being into a small puddle of regret. but no, it's gasoline; his words are enough to incite your flames, lick you alive with ardor. 

he doesn't like you? oh, big fucking deal. you don't like him. 

"you ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. Miller?" you drawl, lifting an accusatory brow. “what if you’re the bad influence? it’s not like you have any more manners than I do.” 

his jaw sets and his nostrils flare from his sharp exhale; you let your eyes swipe over the splattering of freckles that peek out from under the scruff beard that grows; a scar jags across his skin, frown lines creasing his scowl in a dark, terribly attractive way. you’re tip-toeing a line here, you can feel it. 

he can feel it, too. 

his eyes dip down, though you try hard to hold his heated gaze; they trail slowly over your shoulders and down, down to the dip of your collarbones and then over your breasts, heaving slightly with the proximity of the man. his gaze nearly melts the tank top that stretches over your torso and a flood of excitement rushes through you, pooling in the seat of your underwear. a smirk creeps onto your face at his wandering stare - resentful, loathing, heated. 

something in you snaps, and you can't deal with it any longer; not with his proximity, leaning over your shoulder and staring you down, with half-rolled sleeves. his forearms, they’re thick- goddamn, he's so-

"-I can't tell if you're looking at me like that because you want to kill me, or you want to fuck me." you snap, breaking his spell as you snap his attention back to your own eyes with your bold choice of words. "either way, it'll have to wait. I got shit to do, Mr. Miller, and for some reason, you're still in my house giving me fuck-me-eyes." 

"-you better watch your mouth." he snarls, chest heaving as he leans forward menacingly, his jaw clenched. 

you let yourself smile up at him, "or what, Mr. Miller?" you ask kindly, voice dripping with perfidious innocence. 

he sneers, eyes raking over your form, jaw ticking. your body flushes with warmth under his scrutinous gaze; one of your bare legs slides up to rest on the chair next to you, on full display snd illuminated in the light of the kitchen as you smirk at him. his dark chocolate gaze slides over the skin revealed; your skin tingles in excitement under his watch. it makes you chuckle. 

"what, you don't like the way I speak?" you hiss, glaring at him. "chastising me for shit that you do, too?" you mutter snidely, pulling your leg back down as his eyes glare into yours. "I'm an adult, you can't tell me what to say. fucking hypocrite."

your hand presses into his chest, standing to your full height. his chest is firm, hot, but he lets you do it easily, moving back out of your space; giving you an out, offering you a chance to say this-isn't-what-I-want. but you won't take it. no, instead you slide up closer to him, until you're too close. 

"why so quiet now, Mr. Miller?" you almost purr, your hand still toying with your switchblade, the glint of it reflecting in his eyes. slowly, you lift the blade to trace it gently, softly over his jawline, as you’d do with your fingers. he watches you like a damn hawk, breathing heavy. 

the scratch of it against the facial hair is enough for him to snap; suddenly snatching the blade from between your fingers in one quick motion. 

“you’re testin’ my patience.” he growls, shaking his head as he holds the handle of the knife in an iron-like grip. you shake your head, “yeah, well, you’ve taken all mine.” you counter. “so…” you start, raising a brow at the knife in his hands, the way your legs are turning to putty, “you going to kill me, Mr. Miller? or fuck me?” you whisper it into his ear, up on the tips of your toes as the peppering-gray curls at the base of his ear tickle your lips.

a sharp exhale - almost a surrender. then, a rough hand pushes you down against the table, hard. your body is pliant, willing, excited as his force brings you to thud against the wood, his hand flying down quick just to your right in a loud thud.

your head snaps to your right, eyes wide and jaw open; your switchblade pins your own flannel to the table, stabbed down and holding the material and your arm in place. christ, it barely missed nicking your skin.

“depends on if you can learn some goddamn manners.” he growls, leaning over you, his hips slotting between your thighs.

maybe it’s the look on his face, or just how damn long it’s been since you had someone, or just because it’s Joel – but your facade falls so quick and you’re soon keening up towards him, arching your back so your chest sticks out.

“I’m a fast learner.” you promise; at that, he merely hums, his hips grinding slow over yours. you let your eyes squeeze shut, groaning lightly at the bliss of his rough denim sliding against your shorts-clad cunt, throbbing with desire.

you’re breathless; shivers cascade down your spine at the press of his hips against yours, licking your lips to wet them; “fuck, Joel-“ your breath is strangled, “please. I can be good for you.” you try to convince him, blinking your eyes up at him. his smirk is downright evil as his hands fall to your top, skating over the tops of your breasts before one hand grips your jaw in his large palm, squeezing hard onto your cheeks and forcing you to stare into his eyes.

his grip is unforgiving. “y’think you can jus’ bat those pretty eyes at me?” he sneers, his breath hot and fanning over your face. you’re overheating- god, it’s so fucking hot in your house; your hand raises to grip his forearm, swallowing your pride for the sake for finally getting to feel him inside you, “’m sorry, Joel.” you mutter, cheeks squished by his hand.

his brow furrows, shaking his head. a chastising tutting noise escapes his throat as he rolls his hips, grinding sloooow and smooth against your dripping cunt, aching with desire.

“no, you’re fucking not.” he spits, pushing you harder against the table. your throat is dry, a whimper of desire escaping your throat. his lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans more of his weight on you, your legs wrapping around his hips and your own surging up, up in search for some friction, “say it. say you’re not sorry. you like it, I can tell.”

shivers spill down your spine as you bite back a moan, cheeks alight with heat at his teasing. Your eyes lull over towards the blade that holds down your shoulder, pinning you against the table. a hot rush of arousal floods your underwear as you swallow, eyes rising to meet his in a lidded gaze. 

“I like it,” you admit in a shameful gasp, hand sliding up to explore his chest, “I’m- I’m not sorry. I like it, ‘m not sorry.” you mutter, voice desperate, pathetic; you’re swallowing a whimper as he grinds slowly against you again, his hardened cock straining against his jeans.

 his hand snaps to pin yours down to the edge of the table; your eyes snap up to his, meeting the swirling lust within his deep eyes, searching your face with a dangerous smirk. “you aren’t sorry?” he asks, voice dripping with condescending cockiness.

you shake your head no desperately, searching his eyes to see if he’s pleased.

he smirks at your desperation. "you will be, darlin’." he mutters, his own eyes exploring your chest as it heaves, breasts barely spilling out the top of your tank top’s hem. you smile up at him despite your desperation; hunger curls in your chest as you move your hips up against him and his face falters, a groan escaping his throat. his eyes swirl with the dark shine of a man who is nothing less than dangerous. 

the hand that isn’t pinned by the blade creeps up his arm, brushing the thick cords of muscle that rope his bicep and shoulders; soon, though, one of his hands is gripping your wrist and slamming it down against the edge of the table.

you gasp from the roughness, biting your lip as your fingers curls around the edge and hold tight under his grip.

“don’t move your hands,” he mutters as his lips dip low to trace over the seam of your top, breath brushing over the soft skin of your breasts. “or I’ll leave you here, pinned to this table.”

arousal floods you at his words and you nod silently, swallowing as his teeth bite roughly at your pressure point. “d’you hear me, girl?” he grunts, his hands moving to pull out one of your breasts from your top, your peaked nipple instantly tugged between his prying fingers.

you let out a yelp at the sensation and he huffs against your skin, biting again. “fuck,” you whimper loudly, bucking your hips as your hands grip tight against the edge of the table; one arm is pinned with the knife anyways, but your heart thunders as his tongue peaks out, brushing hot against your sweat-sheened skin.

A hand snakes to your throat and you can’t stop the moan you let out, air sucking through your windpipe at the light grip he keeps; you’re obsessed with how all-consuming he is.

Joel’s everywhere – his smell, his eyes, his hands, tongue – you want him to be inside you, you want him to be in you forever, ever, ever.

fuck Joel Miller. fuck him, and fuck him.

“I asked you something. answer me.” he squeezes your throat as he emphasizes, as he demands you; you buck up against him, convinced you’re soaking through your goddamn shorts, leaving disgusting proof of your sick, twisted arousal as you move against his crotch.

his dominance causes your face to flare with heat; you weren’t expecting him to seduce you into submission - you love it. “y-yes, yes, sir. I he-heard you.” you gasp, face flushing hot as the words leave you. he smirks darkly as he pulls away from you, danger lurking in his eyes deliciously as he nods, seemingly pleased.

he nods. “good.”

his hips are gone from you in an instant and your gasp is choked – but he wastes no time in popping the button on your jeans, sliding them and your underwear off of you in one long motion.

his pupils somehow blow even wider as he stands in front of you, palming his thick cock through his jeans, watching you pant hard.

you’re exposed in front of him – your pussy is swollen with need, pulsing with desire as one of your breasts rests exposed to the air as the knife pins you down by the arm of your flannel; you’re fucking exposed and you love it. he’s intoxicating.

 “you’re soaked.” he says after a moment of silence so long that you barely register his gruff voice. you blink, bringing your eyes back up to his from where he’s begun to undo his belt.

you can’t help the light smirk as you stare up at him, “maybe I happen to like it when you’re vulgar with me.”

he glares at you but there’s a hint of something more that flashes through his eyes; adoration? no, it couldn’t be. Joel Miller can’t adore anything.

but then out of nowhere his fingers delve through your velvet, slippery folds in a fervor; your breath chokes yet again in your lungs as you tense with the sudden stimulation.

a low, guttural moan falls from your lips as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub tight, slow circles on your clit, “bet you taste so good, don’t you?” he murmurs, his teeth finding purchase upon your neck, sucking a mark so hard you’re sure you’ll have it for weeks. christ. “y’want me to taste you, pretty girl?”

fuck. images flash through your mind of him on his knees, tongue unraveling you, drowning in you while your thighs close around those thick greying curls.

your moan falls from you fast, nodding quick, “yes, yes, please, please, use your mouth.“ your whines are downright embarrassing – you’re not a wide-eyed virgin teen, for fuck’s sake – but Joel’s stirring you just right, making you purr with pleasure.

but instead of his tongue, a harsh swat falls onto your aching cunt and your hips jolt at the stimulation, your clit throbbing and the sting making you groan his name. you can’t help the moan of disappointment.

“well, isn’t that too bad?” he snarls, his voice mean. you feel tears of frustration spring in your eyeline as you huff a sigh, his fingers slowly, torturously moving over your clit yet again. “bet you’d love if I ate your cunt. probably dream about it, don’t ya? d’you think about me when you touch yourself?”

Christ, you’d never expected Joel-don’t-fucking-talk-to-me-Miller to be so fucking dirty; but you learned your lesson last time, so you nod quick, eyes lidded through the euphoric, teasing pleasure from the pads of his fingers.

“all-all the time, J-Joel, fuck, think about you all the time.”

and it’s true.

“that’s right. my slut, thinkin’ about me.” he spits, mouth peppering bites over your throat. “gonna have to make y’cum fast, baby. Maria’s probably waiting for us t’turn in the logs.”

the possession in his voice brings you even further towards the edge, catapulting you, sending you frustratingly close as your body tenses, puckering hole clenching around nothing as he slowly works you.

you nod your head, unable to open your eyes as your legs close around Joel’s fingers; in anger, his hand tears your thighs apart, swatting the soft skin of your thighs in punishment. you yelp at the sting, biting your lip as a new gush of arousal leaks from your neglected hole and drips down onto the table.

fueled by frustration and adrenaline and some desperate fire of attraction that’s been burning between you since he first showed up in Jackson, you nearly scream, “please, fuck me now, Joel, please I’ll do anything-“

his hand leaves his ministrations quick, his glare sharp as his fingers glisten with your desperate arousal; they’re soaked. you feel yourself flush in embarrassment until he smirks darkly, tugging himself out of the confines of his jeans. “there, see? learnin’ some manners.”

his cock is heavy and thick as it slides through your wet, slick folds. your breath, panting out and puffing as you watch in awe. his: stuttering as the tip of his dick notches at your clenching hole, teasing.

“Jesus, you’re trying t-to swallow me, darlin’.” His hand reaches out, grabbing a palm full of your tit as he rocks his hips, once again nudging your leaking hole.

your whole body shivers in anticipation; you will your eyes to not reveal how fucking turned on you are about his size - you’re more wet than you’ve ever been in your life and his cock is - well, it’s thick, long, bigger than you’d like to admit. 

“greedy fuckin’ pussy.” he grunts to himself as you hold yourself as still as possibly, one tear escaping as you your eyes clench shut in desire.

“’m ready, Joel.” you whimper, eyes opening to find his hot gaze already searing through you; he just smirks, nodding slightly. “yeah, bet you are, pretty girl.”

he can’t thrust all the way into you, not fully- his cock is too thick, your cunt slick with arousal but still so goddamn tight. the rumbling moan he lets out as he inches in slowly is fucking heavenly.

a strangled gasp leaves your lips when he starts to slide into you, inch-by-inch, stretching you open and filling you full of him. your fingers twitch at your sides as you yearn to card your fingers through his thick curls; his head falls heavy against your chest as he mutters, “s’tight, baby, fu-fuckin’ tight.”

“so much,” you whimper, fingers tight and shaking as you restrain from grabbing his arms to stabilize himself, “‘s too much.” you mumble, tears stinging. he hums, the ghost of a kiss over your cheek before he’s in your ear, whispering, “am I too big for you, baby? gonna hav’ta work you open on my fingers first next time, yeah?”

his dark grin grows as you nod your head dumbly, “fuck- yeah, yes.” you agree, nodding,

his voice is starting to slur, accent getting thicker as he soon splits you fully, speared and sheathed deep, deep into you. you’re fluttering around him as you accommodate to his size, the feeling of him nearly breaking you open as he starts to shallowly thrust.

you let out a loud moan, his thickness stretching you and sliding deeper than expected, kissing against a spot that has you keening. your toes curl and your head falls back as he pulls out, thrusting back into you slow, grinding, deep.

all you can say is his name; it falls from your lips like it’s the only word you know, his hips soon pistoning into you with fervor, chasing the feeling coiling in your abdomen. 

his hands roam. 

they explore every part of you they can reach, his teeth marking every inch of your throat and painting you into a beautiful piece of art. for him. 

the noise of your pussy swallowing his girth in is downright filthy as it echoes through your kitchen; your head lulls to the side as you let out a languid moan, the spot he's hitting making your eyes roll back. you can feel stray tears leak down your cheeks, hot and heavy as you whimper in desire; you're so goddamn close, already, you know he can feel it. 

“y’gonna-“ he grunts, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as yours leak down your cheeks, body shaking with desire, “-gonna take my cock and say thank you, ‘s that right?”

a shaking rush of arousal just slickens you even more; the sounds of his body rocking into yours wet and loud in the room as you nod frantically, the pleasure coiling dangerously fast. 

but it seems you weren’t quick enough with your response: Joel’s hips slow, then stop completely. 

you’re left gasping, eyes wide as you stare up at him in shock: “wh-why?” you whimper, his pulsing length half out of you, teasing you. 

Joel’s eyes meet your own and he sternly swats your tits, eyes watching as the breast exposed to the air moves in recoil. 

“do you want to cum?” he asks, as if he’s asking what 2 + 2 is. your face fucking burns as you nod, “yes-“ 

but he grunts, hips too agonizingly still as he leans forward, “then take my cock, fuck yourself on it. and use your fuckin’ manners.”

you blink at him, spurring into action only after a very brief short-circuited moment. your hips stutter and shake at the angle, unable to move in a way that stimulates yourself enough to bring you back to the edge.

you shutter, muttering, “th-thank- thank you,” but you can’t do it. you glare at him as you move your hips, hands shaking, muscles straining, but you can tell he’s not pleased: brows drawn, a swat to your exposed breast that stings and spurs your hips quicker.

“come on, this is pathetic.” he snarls, fingers gently pinching your clit. the yelp you let out is dry, starved. “why so quiet now, darlin’?” he throws your own words back at you deliciously. 

he stands stationary, eyes judging you, focused on where your cunt tries to swallow his cock, your movements choppy and weak. tears spring in your eyes; he feels so good, but you just can’t get it right. 

“please.” you nearly whisper it, but it’s exactly what he was looking for. he rocks his hips shallowly, your body rocking gently with the slow, deep force of him splitting you open. 

“please, what?” he whispers into your ear, teeth scraping your jaw. resentment and arousal flows through your veins as you let out a strangles, “please, s-sir-“ 

with the words, Joel’s hips cant up into you, the slight angle making your legs coil and your throat burn. 

“please fuck me, y’feel- I can’t do it, need- you feel so good, fuck me hard, please, I want it.” you let go, begging and desperate to give you what you crave. 

his hips pick up a brutal pace. your back is pounded into the wood below you, the cool blade of the knife cold against your flannel as one of his large hands moves you until your legs are thrown up, over his shoulders.

the stretch is unimaginable and he doesn’t give you any time to adjust; his hips are unforgiving, fucking you open and letting your juices of arousal spill over the skin of your thighs and onto the table. 

“such a foul fuckin’ mouth on you.” he spits, one hand gripping your jaw until it opens for him, your mind clouded with the chase of your highs. 

he spits into your mouth, saliva warm and intoxicating as you swallow it happily, nodding in a daze. “gonna fuck you stupid, aren’t I? you won’t think about anything but me for weeks.” 

he’s right, and he fucking knows it. 

you nod at him, unable to form full words as he hits the spongy, delicious spot inside you that nearly makes you pass out. your hands fucking ache from the grip on the table, but you hope he’s pleased that they haven’t moved a damn inch this whole time; even as he splits you wide open and takes you apart. 

you’re so close you might actually start to sob as the crest of your orgasm tingles your thighs, your toes curling and legs shaking. 

he's close, too. his thrusts are getting slower, sloppier. 

“whose pussy is this?” Joel grunts, his movements soon desperate and deep; his tip kisses your cervix and your body jolts up the table with each movement of his pubic bone against yours.

the pain is fucking euphoric, delicious as you grip the edge of the table so hard you’re unsure they’ll ever relax. his finger pinches your nipple and you yelp, sweat sticking to your forehead, “-y-yours, fuck, Joel- yours, a-always.” you whimper, breathless.

you feel his smile grow against your neck and the butterflies that grow in your chest seem out of place with the bruises that will soon blossom on your skin from his teeth, his fingers.

you smile, too.

"god, you're perfect- f-feel fuckin' perfect around me, baby. need you to cum." as his sentence ends, his head jerks up, one hand rising to grip your jaw tight. your eyes snap to his and the anger boils, festering with the desire and lust within his eyes, "know y'can't help it, can you?" 

you shake your head fiercely as your orgasm nears. he hums deep, a rumble from his chest, “what do you say if you want me to let you cum?” 

fuck. fuckfuckfuck you’re too close- your muddled mind spits a barely cohesive babble of pleads, “please, p-pleaseplease I-I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ 

“you’re sorry?” he presses, hips not giving up; your whole body burns as you wait for your orgasm, knowing in any second it’ll be ruined. “look at those pretty eyes. did y’learn your manners? y’gonna say thank you?” 

you let out a sob of pleasure, his thrusts so deep you can feel them in your throat. “yes, Joel- please- let me cum, please-“ 

his hand slides to your throat. “cum now.” 

you swallow around his grip and let out a near scream of his name as his other hand snakes between you; a finger brushes against your abused clit, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge. 

you see colors. 

your orgasm explodes as you gush around him, pulsing, begging, unraveling around his touch. your voice is broken, mutters and whimpers of his name followed by thank you, thank you drifting through the room.

your thighs are soaked with your own spend and he feels you grip him like a vice; he can't help but kiss the tears from your cheeks as he milks you through your orgasm, muttering soft grunts in your ear. 

"that's it, baby. there y'go, cum on my dick when i fuckin' tell you to." he kisses the column of your throat as his thrusts slow to deep, long thrusts. "atta girl." 

you scream at his words and the overstimulation. he shushes you, thrusts slow. "'m gonna cum." he sounds almost desperate, his body so close to yours it's almost like he's trying to smother you.

he groans your name in a broken sound; his grip tugging your hair. he moves back, frantic to pull out and ride his high- but you panic. 

"w-wait!" you rush, hands springing without thinking to push his hips hard against yours. you can't bear to imagine him pulling out of you so soon - you need to feel him, be full of him. "cum in me, Joel- I need it, j-just- fuck!" 

his hand slams over your mouth, effectively silencing you with a loud grunt of his own, "shut the fuck up," he growls, sounding too close. “jesus, girl- gonna wake up the whole n-neighborhood-“ but even his shamefully dirty mouth falters when he chases his orgasm.

soon he thrusts shallowly into your pulsing cunt before he's moaning, spurting his seed into you. 

hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as you flutter, whimpering as you breathe heavy, hands skittering up his back despite his earlier orders. 

his lips brush over your skin as he lies on you, heavy; "jesus christ." is all he mutters, pulling out of you with a slick sound and tucking himself into his jeans. 

you can only stare at the ceiling, the light above the table you’re laid upon swinging with the residual force of your bodies colliding.

a hand falls in a sharp thud to your right, pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the notch it leaves reveals the patrol log; speared in the middle with the evidence of you and Joel's digressions. 

oops.

you're wrecked. you're a trembling frame of a structure after the hurricane of Joel Miller took threw you, stripping you to your bare bones. a ghost of lips over the inside skin of your knees as they fall, weak, off of his shoulders. and then he stares at you as you shakily sit up, setting your clothes right, swallowing on a raw throat. 

“‘m sorry about the flannel.” he gestures to the rip in your arm where the knife had pinned you down and something about it makes you chuckle, smoothing down your hair. “are you- are you okay?” he asks suddenly, hard eyes looking almost soft under the glow of the lamplight.

he hands you your underwear and jeans and helps you slide back into them in a surprisingly sweet turn of events.

“more than okay, christ. if you make me cum like that again you can do anything you want to my clothes.” you wink with a deep breath, smiling gently at him when he helps you stand back up on shaky legs. he actually sends you a half-smirk at that, and it flutters along your chest. 

the nighttime air is not so suffocating as you and Joel make your way towards Maria, his hand grazing over the small of your back as you walk on Jell-o legs, faces flushed and sweat slicking to your skin.

it’s awkward.

“I-” he starts, swallowing air as you stare up at him. sweat trickles from his brow and you itch to trace it with your tongue. 

“I actually think you’re not too bad,” he finishes, turning to walk up the steps to Tommy and Maria’s. you blink, heat fluttering in your chest as he admits, but soon whirls around to ensure you hear him, “for Ellie. just- don’t do that shit around her, right?” he clarifies.

you grin at his reddened cheeks as he tucks the log into the box set near the door, filing it under the western outpost for the date. 

“yes, Mr. Miller.” you mock-salute him, smirking to yourself as his flush deepens, the scowl ever-present on his face softening slightly at your smile. 

“christ.” he shakes his head, “you’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble.” you don’t miss the smile that creeps on his face as he starts to walk you back home. 

--

read part 2

requests open

--

[unfortunately-obsessed]

I always loved the chaotic teenager!Bruce but I never noticed that all the troubles he got in that era can and will bite him back via his sons

Plus it can be a generational thing. Something about the Wayne name

It was clear Bruce is son of Martha and Thomas Wayne, chaos personified.

It's the precedent to his playboy persona. Martha and Thomas were strange and charismatic enough to make anyone open up and to entrance anyone in a conversation

It's the harsh Gotham accent from Thomas but the soft Russian from Martha. It's the way Bruce laughs at galas like a fire cackle and tells stories that make everyone laugh

So, the cheeky jokes and the tabloid-bright smile? Loud music and louder people? Dick genuinely enjoys and he's worse than his father

Because he's telling stories people are falling over and howling, it's the party tricks that make him end up in the chandelier or balancing champagne flutes and he is posing for cameras and buying martinis for Vicky Vale

It's the summer smile people fall in love with and the way kids naturally want to be close

And Bruce is a Gotham's child too. Jason Todd is his son and it is clear in the way he is nurturing

But it's clear in the way that, somehow, people don't expect neither of them to have five different degrees each. It's the way they don't expect Jason to be a highly competent CEO, it's the way people wouldn't expect Jason to be extremely academic

It's the way there's always plenty of food in Jason's house and snacks in his pockets. Teenager Bruce is the bleeding heart, it's the way magazines want to put his grief in the headlines, fundamentally incapable of being something but himself

It's the way people keep wanting to tell their story again and again, to point at them as beacons of tragedy

It's the way Jason is hemorrhagic and miserable but whose is gentle and loving despite despite despite

And Tim? Tim's smile is full of promises, it's the way he doesn't care in the slightest about money and sometimes he'll wake up with everything hurting, it's the way being a person doesn't come naturally for him

It's the way he'll drag his name trough mud if it's getting bad again, it's the way he doesn't care about social status

Tim is the way he spell secrets no one should know when he is mildly annoyed, it's the way he'll get serious and stare at you and be sorely disappointed at what he sees

It's the way he'll tell you if your husband is cheating and will be nothing but gentle about it. It's the way that, in front of cameras, he'll say he doesn't believe Batman exists just for the funsies

Damian is his father's son in every way. It's the way he is an heir born to command, it's the way he cries holding a knife the same way Bruce cried wielding his father's rapier

It's the way old woman pinch his cheeks, it's the way he sneers, it's the neverending guilt complex, it's the way he has his father's face, the twitch of his eyes and the way he corrects people's grammar faster that he can think of being impolite

[pygmi-says-hi]

writing tips - weapons! (the bladed ones)

weapons are like stupid people; they're everywhere. especially in writing!

bad joke mb guys.

Welllllll for those of you sadistic nerds who like all things sharp, shiny and dangerous, here you are!

Whether or not your character is an assassin or a casual hunter, proper knowledge and use of weapons is important knowledge for a writer! especially if your editor won't get off your ass and you need to dispose of them find a new perspective.

Now, the thing about weapons is that they can be used for many things, but have one 'correct use'. such as - a knife can be used as a nail file, scalpel, scissors, razor and a fork, but it's really only supposed to be for cutting. or stabbing.

here are guides to blades and stabbies alike.

Scythes

Scythes were originally designed for reaping grain. They are a crescent shaped thingamabob with one sharp edge and one blunter edge. The sharp is on the inside of the crescent. You might see them carried by reapers in folklore, as in the idea of 'reaping/sowing souls'.

Good uses: slicing, cleaving, swiping, one-hit kills

bad uses: stabbing, blunt force, combative fighting. the blade is curved and won't make proper contact with the flesh to really jam in there. it'll just be awkward and messy.

Rapiers (NOT THE SAME AS BROADSWORDS!) i included pics dw

this bad boy.

Double edged, very sharp, thin blade.

good for: combat, thrusting/stabbing

bad for: impact hits, leverage (as in bracing a door or using as a lever), and a defensive weapon.

Swords like broadswords

Shorter blades than rapiers, with a thicker steel and a fatter handle. Can be double or single edged - double edged are good for stabbing, single are not.

Good for: fighting, stabbing, slicing, decapitating, impalement, impact

Bad for: melee

tips on swords: swords are really fucking heavy. Like idk if you have ever held an honest-to-god sword (not the amazon ones) but they weigh so much. If your character has an injured arm, they are gonna be really slow. the fighting is gonna be sloppy af.

also, the butt of swords are fantastic for blunt force trauma!!

Garrotes

garrotes are thin, sharp wires used to strangle people. can honestly be made out of anything rope-like but are most effective when wire or coarse rope.

Good for: strangulation

Bad for: everything else. except as a shoelace idk

Pretty narrowly useful, good for close-up stuff but only work if you have good bodily leverage over the opponent. small margin of error with these.

I will make a part two. bye for now!

[itsguysnightitsironic]

Curse of the Nitghborne.

Guys, I haven't had time to play a lot, but I think the god of this land MAY BE the bad guy, but don't listen to me much.

Get up, folk! Flor did another Curse of Strahdanya crossover after Derek mentioned Lethica fused with Strahdanya as one throw joke in a stream!

The style is indeed inspired by the great art in Hades (the videogame), and the background is by Hades II.

The drawings without text:

Also, this was written at four in the morning, and I refuse to correct my insomniac ramblings this is the beta experience:

Lethica Nightborne as Strahdanya

----LORE------- In Barovia, a land of the dead, of suffering and grief, a new god has appeared out of nowhere covering the land in an eternal night... Of happiness? Lethica Nightborne, known as the Divine, has presented herself as the saviour that the land needed it, for what seems like decades. Her light, her kindness, her power, has changed the region and the hearts of the people to their core, as the land has been reborn... As there's new blood... But of course, you can't blame the nature of evil, so there's still death, suffering and pain in Barovia, but of course, our saviour, our dear wife, cleans it as she chooses. And if she asks for a sacrifice, of course, we will bring it to her, if she asks for the firstborn of every family, we will name the second after her, and if she asks that we take care of her dinner guests, we shall take care of them. -----DESIGN------- All I knew of Lethica was that I wanted her to wear a veil, and she couldn't only be a countess but a whole god, the saviour of Barovia. The churches don't talk about sun gods, only of her, their lady of dark, their god. Her dress comes from mixing Stradhanya's and hers, ending in a very 19th figure, with a bit of Mesopotamian fashion (the metal belts and sleeves with the double skirt) to show her as a figure of the past, as somehow older than she appears. Of course, she had to have some kind of knife so a knife fan, and a cup to show wealth and power (her cup is always full, full of what? Well, if you look at the very pale man under with not a lot of blood left-)

Marius Renathyr as Victoria Issacs

-----LORE------- Marius as a man of Ilmater seems to be QUITE interested in Barovia, a land of suffering and grief, to the extreme that seems too personal to just be a missionary mission to conquer pain. The university doesn't trust him completely, but somehow, even as a new member of the university and resident of Druskenwald, Marius had found a way to get the vote of everyone involved and the funds for the crusade. But what would be the real reasons for such travel? Or... WHO is the real reason? ------DESIGN ------ Inspired by the old missionary ropes of the 1800s and the typical vampire hunter, Marius stands as a very weird-looking holy man. From Victoria's design, we get the rosary turned into this over-complicated necklace and the ropes around his hips that reference the bloody ropes of Ilmater. (Victoria's, and now Marius, god.) And his sword has turned into a cane. (a cane with a blade.)

Yorgrim as Silas "Shepherd" Morgan

-----LORE-------- From the depths of Yona, a mercenary is invited to participate in an expedition to a land of death and suffering. He accepts stating that he has other business in Barovia and he could be glad to accompany the group under the condition he would work in peace when need it. Of course, he refuses to say the kind of work, you know, "professional privacy policy" and all. But by his reputation... It can't be good... -----DESIGN------- I was going to go with a funeral worker, but the scarf with teeth appeared and it changed the vision. The design takes more inspiration from Shepherd than Yorgrim, with the hunter theme, with the shotgun filled with blue magic and a list of hunts on red clay (that would be broken when the hit is eliminated.)

Briggsy "The Kutlass" Kratch as Professor Clayton Azran

LORE------- Briggsy may take the role of the professor, but he's not the expedition's leader. He's contracted by the University of Druskenwald to keep an eye on Marius (since the university is suspicious of the holy man). He accepts, without even wondering or caring what Barovia is, only happy to finally obtain a title under his piracy by the lords of Druskenwald. (He's getting paid to be a pirate, oh the dream!) DESIGN------ With his design, he was the last one and I was VERY tired, so... It's something weird? You know, a pirate trying to look like a "noble man". (but he's very much failing, he looks like a maniac I think)

Jericho Sticks/Virgil as Sarnax of the Edelwood

----LORE----- The cult of Gherix initially refused the university and the idea of letting them explore the runes in their forest. Until they accept but a month away from the expedition which is extremely suspicious. When the group found themselves in the forest, there he is, Jericho, a sacrificial figure of sticks and straw offered by the cult as a guide. (Of course, the poor, only brought to life months ago, strawman is a sacrifice in the name of Gherix that, by burning in Barovia, will give the god control over the whole region. / Indeed, Virgil is now Gherix we get an asshole god, give it up!) -----DESIGN----- Inspired by Wicker Man (giant figures of sticks and straw with animal sacrifices that are burned during Celtic rituals such as the Beltane.) Jericho is turned into a sacrificial figure who will burn when it's necessary by the light that keeps him alive.

Farryn of the Hartsblight as Kana Soyokaze.

-------LORE------- It isn't clear when or how, but Farryn ends up getting involved with the expedition. As a storm in sea, one day, the swordswoman appears out of the blue stating that she's also trying to find her way into Barovia. The deer refuses to explain her business with the "Divine" of all people, only holding her katana with anger and sadness, but she's clearly not looking to make friends. (She ends up being friends with the whole party.) -------DESIGN----- Based on the Sika deer (a Japanese deer), the design lingers more around the fusion character while keeping Farryn's figure, with the open skirt covered by her leg armour that goes up to her hips and the war paint, fur, and bone that stays in view.

[sadistic-kiss]

Nanami Knows Best

What's Best

Nanami is tired of your poor choice of men so he takes matters into his own hands. 

TAGS: Dubious Consent, Knife Play, Degrading, Dacryphilia, Bondage, Praise

Genre: Some Angst, Dark Romance, Possessive, Obssessive 

Yandere/Slasher Nanami x Reader

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

Your giggles tickle Nanami’s ears like little bell chimes. He always enjoyed it when you laughed or smiled. It made him feel warm. However, he wasn't feeling that sweet delight that squeezed his heart… not right now. Right now he was feeling irritated. Pissed. All because he wasn't the cause of such a beautiful laugh, no it was the mouth breather who had his arm slung around your shoulder. 

“Guys this is Mahito.” You introduced the bluette to the group with an excited chirp.

"Sup!"

Jerk number five. 

“Nice to meet you Mahito~.” Gojo shook the man’s hand as he greeted each person.

“So you're the guy I've been hearing so much about?” Shoko winked.

“I hope all good things.” Mahito looked toward you with a smirk. 

“Of course!” You shimmy into him playfully. “You're my perfect man~.”

Your newest boyfriend. 

After rounding the table the man reached his weird stitched hand toward him. Where did you find this one out of the mental hospital? He disregarded his hand giving him a nod instead. “Nanami.” 

“Oo~ Nanami is a bit weird with germs.” you whispered quickly trying to ease the tension between them. He wasn't weird with germs but he allowed you to think that so he didn't have to physically interact with waste. 

“No worries! Germaphobe Kento huh?” 

“Nanami.”he corrected.

“I heard so much about you!” the drunk disrespectful bastard continued, “Heard you were real smart and all, a true brainy guy. Like the big-headed kid from the cartoons uuuuh...” he began to snap his fingers, “John- Josh-”

”Jimmy Neutron!” you laughed as the two of you busted up in a cackle. 

“Yeaaah! Jimmy Neutron!”

Nanami let out a short snort as he sipped his drink. The table giggled in drunken fun. After that little joke, he allowed everyone else to talk. Mahito would pick on him but he never bit back. Never took the obvious bait. Nanami was quiet, always had been. You learn more about someone by watching them closely. People were like open books, you just needed to know how to read them. 

Nanami likes to observe, and as he scrutinized your new boy toy he wanted to roll his eyes. He truly wasn't impressed with this one. The rest of the table seemed fine with him but that's because they were too oblivious to see how textbook this whole thing was. It always started like… this. The cute little honeymoon phase where you introduce the new guy to your friends and they gush and get excited for you. Where you ignore all the obvious red flags and let them slap you in the face. 

It was pitiful honestly. 

The guy could say anything and you'd give him whatever. Money, time, ass, your damn dignity. Just like the rest of them. You let these deadbeats in and they take and take from you until you have nothing more to give and when they leave you broken and crying you run to Shoko. Last time, Shoko was away so you had called him. 

You cried and cried and vowed to never do this to yourself again- he truly believed you yet look at you now. You silly... silly girl. You always do this don't you? It's like you can't help it. You were a smart woman. No debt, great credit score, graduated college early, paid for all your things, and shine in your career. You worked really hard to get to where you were. Summer classes, extra credit, internships, volunteering, you name it. You built yourself up and now you were letting homeless idiots break you down. You were booksmart but you were not street smart. 

Unfortunately, you followed the very trope of- good girl dates bad guy. You think you can change them huh? Give them a place to crash when the go on a drug binge and as they steal your money and lie to you you just nod and smile thinking you see the good in them. When were you going to grow out of it? Aren't you too old for this? Whatever happened to 'fool me once shame on you fool me twice shame on me? What the hell is fool me five times? 

Clearly, you were sick in the head to be going down this same path again for the fifth time. 

More sick than he was, and that was really saying something. He wiped the earth with scum bags like your shitty boyfriends. He even enjoyed doing it. However, he was an honest man to himself and his disturbing hobbies.

He enjoyed killing but it was best when done to someone that he felt was a waste of oxygen. 

He wasn't a sociopath- he was a psychopath. There was a difference. He had his little morals. He didn't like killing those who didn't deserve it. Only people who thought they could shit on the world with no consequences. Cocky bastards… much like all the men you seem to be a magnet for.

So, as he watches you with yet another dirtbag, he begins to wonder how delightful it would be to cut this one's life short. Just like he did with all your other poor choices. You just didn't get it. Couldn't see what they truly were. You always joked about your third eye but you were blind to these things that were lesser than men. They didn't deserve you, but you keep picking them up.

Was it your daddy issues? Mommy issues? Both?

Nanami truly thought the time he spent with you crying after your last breakup would have sparked something within you. He was a model man. Everything opposite of the strays you take in off the street. If anything you should have seen how perfect he was for you. How much better he could treat you. Jealous? He wouldn't quite say that. He was more...how should he say...disappointed. He would have felt much better if you came into this bar with a man who was more his status or at least someone who had a higher IQ than a fifth grader.

"ALRIGHT! LET'S GET THIS TRIVIA GAME STARTED!" 

Speaking of iQ, he can't wait to see how many questions this one gets wrong. The last one was 8/10 for questions wrong- not right. He got only two answers. Will this one be a knockout? 

The announcer yelled into the mic making the crowd cheer and holler as they raised their glass into the air excited to start the game. 

Mahito elbowed him in the side, "Win this one for us aye Jimmy Neutron."

Nanami's lip twitched as he gave him a half smile. At that moment your boyfriend sealed his fate. Hammering the last nail into his coffin. Who was he kidding, he nailed it in when he decided to date you.

~

You swayed and giggled as Mahito helped you into your house. 

"Careful babe." He caught you before you could slip and eat your stone steps.

"Sorry sorry~ I had one too many margaritas!" You hold on to him as you kick your stilettos off your feet. You were already home so you didn't mind going barefoot the rest of the way. 

Climbing up your stairs you dug into your purse to grab your keys with jingly accessories upon them. You open the door and lean against it letting your guest in. You smiled at him while he turned the lamp on. You had such a fun night and you felt something was so different about this one. Your friends even liked him. Though they were pissed he got some questions wrong- easy ones-matter of fact you don't think he answered anything correctly- despite that! You still felt it was a good night. Closing the door behind you, you stalk over to him and throw your arms around his neck.

"Ooo~I know that look, did I do good tonight?"

You smiled with a flirtatious flutter of your lashes, "Yes~ Yes you did." You reach on your tiptoes as you kiss him, nearly making him tip over the couch.

Mahito hummed wrapping his arms around your hips, about to take this to the next level but his phone began to ring. He pulled back from you with a peck, "Ah~" He hissed looking at his phone, "Give me a minute work is calling." 

You pout giving him puppy eyes, "This late at night? Can't you let it ring?" You reach for him again but he untangles your arms from around him with a light chuckle. 

"I'm always on call, you know how business is. Go wait for me." He smacked your ass while walking toward the door.

"Don't take long!" You giggle running to your room to put something sexy on.

Mahito stepped out onto your porch, answering the phone. "Hey baby?"

"When are you coming over~"

"I can't tonight, I gotta..." He looked around while licking his lip, "Do a late-night delivery."

Nanami was listening as he hid in the dark, your new boyfriend spoke to what he had deduced was another girl... or boy. Whatever the case it was clear he was cheating on you and then lying to both of you. Well, the guy just made this a whole lot easier. Guess that was the one perk of you dating trash, it was easy to get rid of.

Once the call came to an end Nanami made his move. Mahito opened the door when he caught the man around his neck with his knife and then dragged him in with a hand clasped over his lips. Nanami shut the door with his back, leaning against it while he held the dying gurgling man. His eyes were wide as they looked upon him in shock. 

"She deserves better than you." Nanami made sure to send the man to the afterlife with his stone-cold eyes as the last thing he saw. He watched an arrangement of emotions flicker across before Mahito went still. He wished he could have basked in his taunting screams like the others but this was new. He has never done… this. In your house. About to confront you. He thought it was about time you truly opened your third eye and saw reality. 

Nanami dragged the man with him as he walked toward your room, pausing in the hallway mirror. He adjusted his bloody jacket and combed his blonde hair back with his fingers, flashing his teeth to make sure nothing was in them. When he was satisfied he knocked on your door with two sharp taps.

"Come in~" You called from inside.

He twisted the knob and pushed it, allowing the door to swing open the rest of the way.

You had a smile on your face, sitting in bed wearing a see-through baby doll gown. When you realized it was him and not the garbage man, your expression morphed into horror.

"N-Nanami!" You scurried up on your knees with your mouth wide open. Eyes darting to the body that he was pulling into your room. He plopped down on your bed with a tired sigh, flicking out his handkerchief as if he had just gotten off of work. 

You open your lips wide about to scream but he grabs your calf while holding the knife to his lips, "Don't. I've already had a long night with your one-brain cell boyfriend." He let go of you before he snorted to himself, "Sorry, your ex." Using his white handkerchief he began to wipe his bloody knife with smooth delicacy.

"Why-why Nanami?!"

"He was trash sweetheart. All of them were."

"A-all? Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Every single one you pick." He looked at you like a disappointed father. "I'm about sick of it. It’s obvious you're too stupid to realize it. Letting these leeches into your life. At some point, you'd think you were enjoying it! How about that? Do you enjoy being treated like crap? Enjoy letting pigs treat your home like a sty they can smoke their crack pipe at?"

Your lip trembled as you watched him clean his knife, "A-are you going to k-kill me?"

Nanami shook his head in disbelief as he scratched some blood off the steel, did you not listen to a word he just said? Honestly, sometimes you can be so dense. You’re lucky you’re cute. "No, I'm not going to kill you sweetheart." He looked up at you just in time to see your eyes land on your phone that was plugged into the charger. He saw the way you nervously gulped before looking at him. 

He raised a blonde brow at you. Were you really about to-

You dashed for your phone but he was quicker. He lunged forward and slapped the device across the room but you took that moment to pick up your lamp and toss it at him. He growled, blocking it with his arm, the glass cutting him. You released a scream while running. You barely jumped over the lump of flesh on the ground before he caught you by your hair and yanked you back into the room. 

“Ah! HELP HELP ME!”

"Enough!" He yelled at you as he wrestled you onto your bed.

You kicked and screamed as he quickly got you under control. He shoved his handkerchief into your mouth and grabbed your hands together with one hand. Swiftly he unbuckled his pants with one hand and yanked it out of the loop to tie around your wrist and the bedpost. He yanked on it making sure it was tight, and to be double sure you weren't getting out he jiggled your arm, searching for any open space. He then sat on the side of your bed with a release of air. Glancing at his forearm he picked out pieces of your lamp from his skin and tossed it to the floor. 

“Tch- ". He pulled out the last piece looking at you. 

Your sniffling and choked sobs are what caught his attention. He couldn't help how absolutely beautiful you looked even with precious tears streaming down your cheeks. He cooed as he took out the bloody handkerchief, from your mouth. "What's wrong sweetheart? Why are you crying?"

"Are you..." You gawked at him before giving him an angry stern look. "Y-You killed Mahito!"

Nanami scoffed leaning over the bed so he could pick up Mahito's phone. "Ah, your boyfriend?" He typed in the easy password that he had seen the leech put in. 6969. Fucking childish. He then went to his text message to girlfriend number two and flipped it over to show you. "What do you see?"

You gasped at the text messages, and nude pictures being sent between the two. Mahito said dirty things about the girl as she reciprocated the flirting. You snapped your head away too distraught to see such a thing. 

The blonde grabbed your cheeks, turning your head so you could look at the evidence. "What do you see?" He asked again more sternly. 

You sniffed, "I see I see!"

"What! Do you see?"

"I SEE THE NUDE PICTURES!" You cried with more hot tears bubbling in your orbs.

"What's the date?"

"T-Today! It's- it's today...." You began to cry as Nanami moved the phone from your face. Your boyfriend is dead, the guy you saw as a friend killed him, and now you found out you were being cheated on- was there anything else to bury you in? This was all too much! You were sobbing now, choking on your saliva and trying to sniffle so you could breathe, but it was so hard to breathe. 

Nanami pet your cheek with the back of his knuckles. "There you go... good girl let it all out...it's okay." 

"I-I'm sorry N-Nanami you are r-right- why does this happen to me..." You cried through your words hoping to pull on sympathy strings.

Nanami kissed you on your forehead as he spoke more to himself than anything. "You just can't help yourself sweetheart it's not your fault..." He moved to kiss your wet cheek. "I'll make sure it never happens again."

His words made your eyes widen along with his lips connecting with your own. 

"HM!" You tensed up shutting your eyes tight, your hands jerked to push him away but his belt didn't let up. What the hell does he think he's doing!? His lips slotted into yours as he shifted on top of you. You felt his tongue touch you and, you let it slip in your mouth. He moaned as he licked your tongue but then you clamped your teeth making him rear back in shock.

"Mm..."He touched his bloodied tongue. Surprised to see the red liquid on his fingers. "You bit me." He stated matter of factly. 

"Don't touch me!" You spat his blood at him. "You're a murderer! 

He was calm and then he wasn't. He grabbed your face pressing his fingers into your cheeks as he shook your head back and forth. "I know what I am darling but do you know what you are?"

You did your best to glare at him as you mewled in discomfort, your cheeks being pressed into your eyes. You weren't even able to answer his question, but he did.

"You're a dirty little whore that can't go one single day without being fucked."

You gasp in shock.

"Oh don't do that. You get dumped by one man you're looking for the next to warm your bed. How long did you know this one? Less than a month? How long did it take you before you were throwing on this slutty outfit that you wear for every man?" He flicked the fabric for emphasis.

You felt your chest squeeze in pain as your resolve began to decay, you didn't expect him to be so mean- hell you didn't expect any of this from kind sweet Nanami Kento! It was like a whole new person was above you. Nanami rolled his eyes at you, "Nothing hm...figures." He dragged his other hand over your body until he reached in between your legs. You gasp feeling him slide two digits against your slit. "You only think with this don't you?"

"What-what are you-ah!" You flinch feeling him slip into you. You were so ashamed by how your body fluttered around the intrusion.

"This is all you can think about hm?" Nanami leaned his head so he could watch the pleasure flicker across your confused eyes.

"Y-You're wrong!"

"Give it a break. You don't want them because they treat you like a princess, you certainly don't want them for money." His fingers curled inside you, rubbing on something delightful. "You just use them for the sex and allow them to do the same to you. Why else do you think all your choices are terrible?"

"S-Stop!" You snatched your face from his fingers, your legs quivering as you let out a tight groan. The way he thrust and curled inside of you was causing your body to betray you. It shouldn't feel this good. "Ah~!" You try to jerk your hands from its binds but you only end up with shaft wrists.

"I can take care of you and more..." He pressed his thumb to your clit, your hips flinched. "Ah~" Nanami grinned, "Did you like that?"

"N-No!" You shout at him but he began to circle your clit expertly. "-Ah~" You bit your lip turning away from him.

He chuckled, "Now now, there's no need to lie...I can feel you clenching around me, go ahead and cum, it's what you want to do."

You squeezed your eyes tight denying this reality, doing your best to escape mentally. You didn't want to feel all this pleasure, but it was too difficult to ignore. From the blonde's taunting words in your ear and the squelch of your wet cunt you knew you were done for. 

You felt something cold touch your neck, it was the knife he used on Mahito, "Look at me. I want to see you when you squirt on me like the slut you are."

You kept your face away but you opened your eyes to glare at him from the side. The knife bites into your flesh like a mere paper cut.

He gave you a sort of soft smile, "You can enjoy it as much as you like, don't be ashamed sweetheart." 

It pissed you off how sweet he sounded. How those simple words sent shivers and butterflies. This man you thought was a friend was a damn killer! Yet you could feel the growing build-up of your orgasm. You began to shake your head trying to pull yourself away from those dangerous hands. 

"N-no no! Stop!"

"Stop? Why would I stop when you are so close my dear? Don't tell me you don't want to cum?"

"Ah-N-no no! I don't want to-mm-" You grit your teeth trying to hold yourself back.

Nanami chuckled low at you, "Sweetheart don't be so stubborn. Come on and be a good girl. Cum for me." His movements didn't let up and even though you did your best to fight, it was inevitable.

You came with a scream, hips lifting as you squirt upon this killer's hand. You felt good and then immediately regret. How could you cum...so much?

"Good girl..." Nanami used the knife to cut off your thin lingerie. "We are going to need to throw this one out my dear, I'll get you a new one. Just for me."

What? He was insane- You had no time to stew in that statement because he pulled his pants low enough to release his large leaking cock.

"N-Nanami!" You were shocked to see how blessed he was. "W-Wait! I-I can't!"

"Yes, I'm aware none of your boyfriends were as big as I am." The blonde pushed your legs up and pressed his tip to your cunt. "Gojo said that they oozed little dick energy and I am quite displeased with you darling, you couldn't even be a slut properly."

You let out a cry as he pushed into you, stretching you around his cock. Tears streaming down your cheeks, making the man moan. He loved seeing you cry. You found that out when you cried to him about your last boyfriend. You didn't want to believe he was hard because of your tears but now you could see- it turned him own.

 Nanami moaned deeply as he kissed the corner of both of your eyes, rolling his hips until he was fully inside you. More tears seemed to pour free, like a never-ending stream. You cried out of frustration- you cried for your dead exes and you cried because the bloody monster above you was making you feel unbelievably good. You hated how he slid in and out of you with no pain- you wish it hurt- you wished you weren't enjoying it.

"It's okay darling. "Nanami cooed sweetly. Let it all out. Cry as much as you want," He snapped his hips faster as you bit back your pleasurable moans. Your bed rocked as he fucked you into it. The psycho blonde talking to you. "They didn't deserve you-mm. None of them..." He panted. 

"N-Nanami~" You began to play into the pleasure, letting it take your moans. Maybe you could speed up this process. You circled your legs around him allowing him to get deeper. Soon your moans weren't 'fake' they were quite real. "Oh~ You feel so good! Ah~Please cum in me!" You cried.

Nanami saw right through your charade, if you thought he was cumming alone you were wrong. He pulled out of you so he could flip you onto your stomach, your arms awkwardly crossed in their binds.

He reentered you making your back arach, "AH!"

"Mm~ I know how much you love being treated like a slut. Beg for it." He slapped your ass as he fucked you from behind.

 Holy shit- 

Your eyes rolled while you moaned deeply. "Oh~P-Please Nanam!"

"Who do you belong to?"

"AH~" 

He slapped your ass again getting much more aggressive as he pulled on your hips and bounced you on his cock. 

"YOUR'S I'M YOUR SLUT PLEASE!" You'd like to say you were still playing along but as he grabbed your breast and smacked your ass like an alleyway whore you may have had a very real very intense orgasm. "Oh fuck-!" You hiss as you came, throwing your hips back so you could feel every part of him. He was long and thick and hit all the right places. Places you never even knew needed to be touched. 

Nanami quickly slipped out of you before you could milk him for all he's worth but once you settled he thrust right back inside, making you scream again. 

"I know my little whore needs more orgasms than two...don't worry... I'll make sure you are more than satisfied."

Trued to his damn word he made sure you were a panting mess by the end of the night. You could barely open your eyes as he finished, shooting his cum all over your face. Marking you with his seed. Despite the messy goop on you he grabbed your chin and kissed you deeply, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. Demanding you to submit to him. You didn't bite him this time, much too physically and mentally exhausted to do so.

Separating from your lips with a light smack he rubbed your chin sweetly, "Good girl, you took me so well."  

You weakly look at him with a pitiful, "Please release my hands..."

He reached up for his belt and loosened it for your arms to go free. You let out a breath of relief. Before you could rub your wrist Nanami grabbed them and massaged them for you. It was silent in your bedroom...until Mahito's phone dinged. Picking up the device, the blonde snorted and showed you the screen. It was yet another girl your dead ex was fooling around with. Girlfriend number three. You rolled your eyes looking away making Nanami laugh.

"It's not funny..." You muttered.

He pinched your cheek playfully, "Don't pout so much my sweet girl, I'll take care of you. I promise I won't let anyone else hurt you ever again. You are mine and I am yours."

"What if it's you... hurting me..." You blinked looking at his deep brown eyes.

He gave you a charming smile, "I said...anyone else...I do what's best for you." He cupped your cheek, "Because you don't know any better. I do. I know what's best."

You swallowed a harsh lump as reality became all too real. He was a lunatic and wasn't going to let you go. You didn't realize you were crying until he had moved for you.

"Shh...I'm here..." He scooped you up so he could hold you. Just over the mattress, you could see Mahito, lifeless and on the floor, but the whispering from the man behind you was both eerie and soothing at the same time. "I'm here now my sweet girl, let me worry about everything."

~Commission from anonymous ~

https://ko-fi.com/c/a12d45af4a

[gallusrostromegalus]

all the captains and lieutenants accidentally get slipped some of ukitake's fucked up gigaweed edibles, what happens

First of all, it's not an accident, they straight-up plan a Friday-Night-Of-A-Three-Day-Weekend event of this. Everyone is curious, and Ukitake thinks it will be a funny way to celebrate his Birthday. He is correct: Yamamoto: Veteran of The Dank Arts, gets real high but not unpleasantly so. Would do it again next time he has a long weekend to enjoy it!

Sasakibe: Claims Ludwig Wittgenstein makes PERFECT sense now, attempts to write this philosophical revelation down but is thwarted by the jammed machinations of a clicky pen.

Soi Fon: Gives herself a hernia laughing at one (1) bad pun.

Yoruichi: Used to Urahara's Megaweed Edibles, so approaches the Gigaweed with undue confidence, declares This Edible Ain't Shit five minutes in and eats a second one. She has to be coaxed down from the top of the fridge where she's hiding from The Hatmen by bribing her with a can of Tuna. (Ukitake keeps the $21-a-can Good Shit in the house)

Omaeda: Creates a God-teir marinara Sauce, AND has the good sense to have Nemu pause her Game of Go and come into the kitchen to write down what he did.

Rose: Writes a magnificent new symphony, it's his best work ever, it's life alteringly beautiful, it's effervescent- When he sobers up, it's half a piccolo solo that barely qualifies as a ringtone.

Izuru: In the kitchen crying while eating an inadvisable amount of Omaeda's Spaghetti Marinara.

Retsu: Category Five Mukbang Incident

Isane: Thinks she's filming the Mukbang Incident, actually has her phone open to the calculator app.

Shinji: refuses to touch the Gigaweed because he "Owes The Hatmen Money" and nobody can tell if he's joking or not (he's not).

Momo: Literally Everything is HILARIOUS

Hiyori: Did not know it was possible to have a bigger, gayer crush on Momo, but she somehow opened up a new level of lesbianics. She calls it Gay 2.

Byakuya: Couchlocked for 24 hours straight.

Renji: Couchlocked right there with him, but able to text Izuru to bring them Spaghetti.

Komamura: Can't. Canine Weed Toxicity. (Relieved, offers to spend the weekend watching Toshiro and Yachiru so he has an excuse to go winter camping over the weekend)

Iba: Got High as FUCK. Found out later that the thing he actually ate was a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie.

Shunsui: his alcohol tolerance actually makes his weed tolerance terrible so he's on the floor from jokingly licking the wrapper.

Nanao: Challenging people to knife fights (Romantic Intent).

Tousen: Immediately passes out because he managed to get his blood pressure down to normal levels, sleeps for 26 hours straight and wakes up feeling genuinely well-rested and in a good mood for the first time in two centuries.

Kensei: Gets his hand bitten at the Category 5 Mukbang Incident because he thought it would be funny to try to snitch off Retsu's plate.

Shuuhei: Attempting to refinance Shinji's debt with The Hatmen. Possibly succeeding?

Mashiro: Said "This Edible Ain't Shit", took a second, and appears to be unaffected. Playing Go with Nemu and winning.

Matsumoto: Makes the Hernia-inducing Pun. Will not STOP making Puns.

Hitsugaya: Being babysat by Komamura, would be madder about this if he wasn't also having a blast doing wintertime camping.

Kenpachi: Attempts to fight his own shadow, loses.

Yachiru: Also on the Wintertime Mountain Expedition, trying to talk Toshiro into joining her and Komamura on an Elk Hunt.

Ikkaku: Has done weed before, but only smoked it, but has a naturally suspicious nature and waits to see how Yoruichi does on her second edible, and avoids running afoul of The Hatmen.

Yumichika: Stays sober to collect blackmail on everyone. Actually films the Mukbang Incident for Isane

Mayuri: This is NOTHING compared to the Quantum Formaldymeth shit he's been on for the last century.

Urahara: from a prominent weed-growing family and lifetime connoisseur of The Herb. Takes one bite and realizes he's in deep shit, lies down on the floor next to Shuuhei and gives him terrible financial advice.

Nemu: Not chemically effected by The Edible but she loves A Group Social Activity so she's a little crunk on Social Recognition Euphoria and it's interfering with her game.

Ukitake, peeling his lieutenant off the floor: Y'all are wimps.

Rukia: has to be peeled off the floor, is affectionately dumped in the laps of Renji and Byakuya, where she forces them to have an emotionally honest and borderline normal conversation.

[bowlofr1ce]

AU where Loop really does kill and take Siffrin’s place at the end of the game. They immediately regret it but the deed has been done. They continue traveling masquerading as their old self. Well, no, technically it’s not their old self. It wasn’t Loop that survived and escaped the time loop. It wasn’t Loop whom Stardust’s family members loved and cherished.

“You were Siffrin. Emphasis on WERE. That doesn’t mean that you are now. Which is funny! You have all the Siffrin qualities. The affinity for jokes and puns, the skill with a knife and silence in movement, and you’re still allergic to pineapples (you think you should tell the party members that…). But despite all this, you’re NOT Siffrin. Not anymore.”

The guilt will continue to eat away at Loop as they continue their performance as someone who they were, now someone who they are not.

“Let’s be honest. You really did want to kill stardust. Felt like with a snap of a finger and they magically get everything they’ve ever wanted! To escape the loops! To continue traveling with their family! TO ROB YOU OF THE PERFECT ENDING YOU BLINDING DESERVED. You thought this was a great idea! It’s not like you can go back to your family—if you can even call them that. So you’ll just take stardust’s!!

It’s not like they’ll notice after all, you’re Siffrin! You just need to take their place. Like an understudy taking the lead role. Except it feels a lot more like they were the understudy and they were outshining you. Which frustrated you to an extent. “What a perfect plan!” You thought! “There’s absolutely no way replacing a beloved family member with yourself could go wrong!!” You thought!!!! Acting weird? It’s a side effect of the loops! If they ask something? You know the answer! You experienced it first and second hand after all!!!!!!!

So WHY

WHY DOES IT FEEL SO WRONG?!

It was flawless, and yet every day you wake up you feel like ripping something out of your body! Wait- no. Not your body. Stardust’s body. Stars, you hate it when your brain corrects itself like that. You wish you can just simply just forget about stardust, and be the rightful Siffrin who deserves their place. You went through everything first after all!!! This Siffrin wouldn’t have gotten through it at all if it weren’t for you!! You need to keep up the act to keep your rightful reward, you NEED TO.

It’s getting bad. The researcher has already interrogated you a couple times. And the fighter has started to suspect something is very wrong. Thankfully the housemaiden and kid hasn’t noticed anything yet. Or at least you don’t think so. What would happen if everyone found out about you? That you’re not really Siffrin. That you’re not THEIR Siffrin. They’d probably push you away. And then you’re back to being lonely old Loop with no one to talk to!!!

If that happens when WHAT WAS THE BLINDING POINT OF IT ALL?! Killing stardust and then going on a little game of pretend only for the theater to crumble down to the ground in the end. It just really makes you think.

Was this the right decision?

Was this the right decision?

WAS THIS THE RIGHT DECISION?!”

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

Hi! Can you write an Ethan Landry thing where reader gets attacked like Tara in Scream Five by Quinn in the apartment scene (she’s the ghostface that scene not Ethan) after he basically begged her not to attack reader of all people. Thank you :)

thank you for requesting! i really enjoy writing for ethan ngl

Not them

pairing: ethan landry x gn!reader

summary: you get attacked by ghostface, even though, you weren't supposed to be.

warnings: gore, blood, knife violence, attempted murder, fluff, manipulation, some scream vi spoilers.

since no gender had been specified, i will be doing gender neutral reader. plus, no pronouns specified in this anyway. Also I’m sorry if it’s short I’m trying to be as fast as possible

Ordinary evening by yourself. Most of your friends were out partying. Even your crush, Ethan joined them. You could've confessed your feelings but you didn't feel like going.

You could smell your popcorn so you place popcorn in a bowl. You planned on binge watching movies. Not any specific genres. You hum grabbing a can of soda and candy.

Placing your snacks in your living room, You were kind of happy living on your own, instead of getting someone to roommate with. Suddenly, Your Phone rings. You sigh, hoping one of your friends needed a ride.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Y/N. You missed me?"

You had hoped this was some joke but you kind of knew this wasn't. So, you reply nervously,"No."

"You should, I missed you."

You clutch your phone. "What do you want?"

"A game, of course."

You frown. You didn't like his idea of a "game". But you couldn't die now.

"Fine."

"Good, would've been a shame if you made your friends die."

You couldn't believe this was happening, again. "Okay, You simply said.

"Main Character in the Stab Franchise?"

"Um... Sidney Prescott, though she wasn't in Stab 7."

"Correct, You're doing good Y/N."

"Oh Please, anyone knows that."

“You’re right about that. Who is the killer in Stab 1?”

“Easy. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.”

“You’re doing so well. You may make it out alive.”

“That would be nice.”

“Too bad you’re going to have to die.”

You were so confused and you open your door to find Ghostface who quickly stabbed you right in your abdomen so you were certain you weren’t going to make it.

Ghostface didn’t stop there as he continued following you and stabbing you wherever possible. You were sobbing as you fell on the floor and could feel ghostface drag you by your legs closer so he could kill you.

“I got it right! You sobbed. “Doesn’t matter, Ghostface replies, pulling your hair so your head was up in his grasp.”i want to see what your insides look like.”

You don’t remember much as you passed out to the noise of stabbing which meant you were going to die. That was it. You were officially dead right?

When you woke up, you saw your best friend Ethan, he held you close as he says,”You’re going to be okay, y/n. Ambulance is coming.”

“What.. happened? You say. “Well I found you here, He lied and you knew he was lying but simply hugged as you could in your condition.

It was oddly suspicious that he was even here to begin with but you didn’t care as you were taken away to the hospital.

Ethan roughly hit his sister’s shoulder. “Ow! What did you do that for? Quinn said coming from behind. “For attacking Y/N, He hissed.”I begged you not to, remember?”

“Well it was fun, Quinn smirked.”And besides, it’s all apart of Dad’s Plan. Wait until you see.” Ethan hoped this plan would be worth it. He really did.

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Second Chances

Beetlejuice x Lydia Deetz

Part 1 link

(Contains spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice⚠️)

Chapter 4

A couple days had passed since Lydia found out about true love’s kiss and unfortunately for her, Astrid couldn’t find anything further on the subject. She even resorted to googling it, but nothing came up except for some old Disney cartoons.

Betelgeuse even noticed something was up. Not only had he caught them in a couple of whispered conversations but also Lydia had been acting different towards him. He thought they were getting pretty close, but the past couple of days she seemed very distant and even a little cranky but only towards him.

So, in an attempt to get back in Lydia’s good graces, he decided he was going to make her a special dinner. As he cooked, he sang and danced around the kitchen while listening to some old Harry Belefonte songs which could be heard throughout the entire house. Luckily for him, Lydia wasn’t home at the moment and wouldn’t be bothered. Astrid on the other hand, was trying to study and found Betelgeuse’s singing very distracting. After about half an hour she couldn’t take it anymore. She closed her notebook and stormed downstairs into the kitchen, pushing the door wide open as she went.

“BJ! What are you doing?” She snapped, suddenly turning off the music.

“Oh hi Astrid! Didn’t know you were home. I’m making you and your mother dinner.” He answered her as he wiped his hands on his “kiss the cook” apron.

“You?” Astrid scoffed raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“What? You think I don’t know how to cook?” Betelgeuse asked turning to face her, feeling slightly offended.

She had to admit it did smell pretty good.

“Why?” She asked peering over his shoulder at the stove trying to see what he was making.

“Well, before I became the guy we all know and love today I was a bachelor and—“ He began, but Astrid interrupted.

“No, I meant why are you cooking us dinner?” She corrected herself.

“Can’t I do something nice for you guys?”

She raised her eyebrows again at him and folded her arms. Betelgeuse sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ok, Im just trying to get your mom to stop being mad at me.” He admitted. “She’s been acting all weird towards me lately.”

Astrid bit her lip, knowing why he mother had been acting that way. It was because of the whole true love’s kiss thing. She suddenly felt bad for him. He was actually being kind of sweet.

“Anything I can do to help?” She asked unfolding her arms.

Betelgeuse smiled, he hadn’t expected her to offer to help him.

“Well uh, can you dice up this onion for me? You wouldn’t want to see a grown man cry right?” He joked, making a knife appear out of thin air.

Astrid snorted at his joke and took the knife. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. She thought to herself as she quietly chopped the onion as he had asked.

Later, dinner was all ready and the table was set. Betelgeuse paced back and forth nervously waiting for Lydia to return home. He just hoped this worked, if not he didn’t know what would.

Suddenly, he heard the lock click and then the front door open. This was it. He thought heading into the entryway. “Hi, BJ!” She greeted him, unbuttoning her coat.

“Here let me help you with that.” Betelgeuse insisted as he suddenly appeared behind her and helped her slip out of her snow covered coat.

“Oh! Thanks!” She said surprised. Why was he being so nice? She wondered.

“Cmon, got dinner all ready for ya.” He told her, holding his arm out to escort her to the dining room. She eyed him suspiciously, but went along with it anyways.

He took her to the dining room and pulled out a chair for her and Astrid, then eventually sat down himself at the end of the table. “Hope you like it!” He said snapping his fingers making the bowl of pasta hover in the air as though an invisible waiter were serving them. Lydia and Astrid watched as their plates filled with spaghetti and meatballs. She looked down at the plate and examined it for a moment. It looked normal enough. She thought. No worms or other things in it that she could see.

Betelgeuse anxiously waited for her to take a bite first hoping she approved. She took a deep breath as she twisted her fork around the pasta and took a tiny bite. “Well?” He asked somewhat impatiently leaning forward. Even Astrid was started to feel nervous.

“It’s good!” Lydia finally answered nodding her head. He let out a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair. Astrid gave him a thumbs up from across the table making him smile.

They ate quietly enjoying their meal listening to some jazz playing softly in the background. Something about this wasn’t right. It was a little too nice, too normal for Betelgeuse. Lydia just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was up to something. Placing her fork down she turned to face him.

“Why are you being so nice? What do you want?” Lydia asked narrowing her eyes at him.

“Nothing. I just wanted to do something for ya.” He answered her honestly. Astrid stopped eating and looked up at them. She could feel the room suddenly become intense.

“You never do something unless there’s something in it for you. What do you want?” She asked again in a low serious tone.

“Nothing! Honestly babes!” Betelgeuse repeated throwing his hands up.

She shook her head and pushed the plate away. “Don’t lie to me Beetlejuice!” She hissed making him flinch.

“Mom!” Astrid gasped.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Betelgeuse yelled at her.

“You! It’s always something with you!” She snapped standing up, Betelgeuse following suit.

“It’s not this time! I’m just trying to make you happy.” He insisted.

“Mom…stop!” Astrid said pulling on her mother’s sleeve trying to calm her down.

“You want to make me happy? Leave me alone! Stop trying to marry me! I’m not your true love! I can’t change you back. So just do yourself a favor and go find somebody else to haunt!”

“What?” Betelgeuse stood there dumbfounded, not believing what he just heard. How did she know about that?

Without another word, she left the room, her footsteps could be heard heading up the stairs and slowly fading away as she disappeared into her room.

“BJ…” Astrid began, but he didn’t want to hear it. With a puff of smoke, he was gone too leaving her sitting there alone.

She had to tell him. About the book, about true love’s kiss, everything. If he came back…

(Tag list: @msshadows97 )

[welcometo79s]

[repost because I got shadow-banned and I'm back now]

@clonemmunism got me thinking with their post about the war ending and the clones just making very bad fashion choices so here's my thought on what everyone would wear and my rating:

Hunter [4/10]:

Hunter doesn't really care about being fashionable. We got a glimpse of what he would wear in The Bad Batch and I don't think it's very good. He owns a couple of cute scarves but usually he just dresses like a less fashionable Cut Lawquane. And Cut is already pushing it. It's nothing too bad, he just looks like some farmer on Dantooine. No, the bad thing about Hunter is that he literally does not differentiate between clothes he wears going out and clothes he wears practicing knife throwing and juggling with. So most of his stuff has little cuts and tears in it. He also sticks to the type of clothes that Cut gave him, which is the only thing saving him from being a fashion nightmare. He did however try to pick absolutely atrocious clothes for Omega until Echo stepped in. Like he'd attempt to get her a pink shirt with a porg vomiting a rainbow on it and military khakis.

Echo [10/10]:

His outfits are top-notch, he just doesn't dress properly for the seasons. But hey, that's not what we're ranking here. Echo is a crop top guy. Crop tops in summer. Crop tops in winter. And he looks good in them. He wears regular black pants and a variety of casual jackets on top of the crop tops. Sometimes leather jackets, sometimes bomber jackets, sometimes parkas, sometimes open shirts loosely hanging over the tops. Gets matching accessories and high quality boots for his outfits too. Ends up getting himself a belly button piercing. Fashion icon.

Tech [6/10]:

He only has one outfit and it's beige suit pants and a white shirt that's stuffed into the pants. He owns multiple duplicates of the pants and the shirt. Leather shoes. The only thing he switches out about the outfit is that he wears a variety of funky bow ties.

Wrecker [4/10]:

I'm sure there's people on here who found Wrecker's beekeeper outfit from the Saleucami episode cute but it's not very fashionable, nor are the rest of his clothes. Fisherman hats. Crocs. The "my 50 year old dad on the balcony" shoes (those cork sandals). Ponchos and pants that don't fit together color-wise. Sooo many tie dye shirts. Those jeans fabric shorts with lots of cuts in them. The very short ones. Very rarely an elegant evening gown he looks really good in. That gets him an extra point.

Crosshair [5/10]:

He's the Hot Topic Brigade. He has a style and he sticks to it. Some people like it and some don't. Almost always wears a leather jacket. Buys all his clothes at the Star Wars equivalent of Hot Topic.

Fives [7/10]:

Usually wears black jeans and some black t-shirt with printed words on it. Sneakers. Jeans jackets, sometimes with fur. His outfits are good but he wears some of the most atrocious shirts known to mankind. On a good day you get "Viva la Clonevolution", "I'm a Republic War Crime" or "Enemy of the State". On worse days he might wear something that says "Sparkle on you crazy doggo!", "I eat cement", "I can't fucking do be do be do it anymore" (all real shirts by the way) or "Call me the Uwunator". The otherwise completely normal, nice looking outfit adds to the insanity. Sometimes Echo pretends he doesn't know him. It's the fact that Fives does this on purpose that really gets Echo.

Rex [1/10]:

Listen. The Bad Batch and Fives have the privilege of having Echo to be the damage control for their fashion choices. Now we're getting into the bad territory. Rex has so many of these white tank tops that you can see his nipples through. Sometimes there's hot sauce stains on them. He also has a fuzzy jacket that Fives got him as a joke. Rex does not know it was supposed to be a joke. At this point Fives is too intimidated to correct him. He wears light shorts that some rich kid would wear to the golf course under the tank tops. And cowboy boots. Also huge elegant statement necklaces on top of this. And that one stupid fisher hat that says "rexcellent" on it.

Hardcase [2/10]:

Listen the only reason Hardcase has more points than Rex is that Hardcase doesn't want to look fashionable, Hardcase wants to look fun and that he does. He joins Fives in the cringe t-shirt extravaganza. Would wear the ugly pink porg shirt that Hunter wanted to get for Omega. See-through jackets. Glittery heart sunglasses. Glittery silver disco pants that get wider at the bottom. Rainbow bracelets that work like rattles. He annoys everyone around him by shaking his hands to his "improv gospel". Red leather boots that go up to his thighs. Sometimes he wears them under the disco pants, sometimes over them. Fives loves his outfits. He's the only one. Sometimes Hardcase tries out a variety of colorful wigs.

Tup [9/10]:

He looks so cute. So many people hit on him. Lets his hair grow a little longer and starts wearing half-buns. Also a crop top guy, just a little shy about it at first. Wears earrings and looks really nice with them. Has delicate wrist tattoos, maybe some branches with flowers wrapping around his arms. Otherwise simple, normal pants and sneakers.

Jesse [3/10]:

Tup and Fives are carrying the 501st in terms of fashion. The rest are all fashion don'ts. Jesse is no exception. He also wears crop tops but his don't have sleeves or straps. It's just a strapless bandeau top hanging over his pecs. On top of that? Baggy oversized jacket with a comical amount of pockets that he always stuffs full of things. He's been stopped multiple times by the Coruscant Guard and searched as a suspect for being a spice dealer. He just has his pockets stuffed full of candy though. Baggy pants with equally as many pockets fading from blue into purple into red. The jacket is a dark green. Sparkly golden dance slippers.

Dogma [1/10]:

Big sun hats. Very tight leather pants that end just below his crotch area and then restart at the knee. The pants have two parts basically. The two parts are not connected. See-through sneakers. Frilly white shirts that some 18th century vampire would wear. Tie with little loth cats on it. All of this in combination btw.

Fox [10/10]:

I can do this in one sentence, look up "dark academia outfit men" on Pinterest and you get Fox's style.

Mayday [0/10]:

His isn't even an outfit, it's just a bunch of fabrics he bought just like that in the market and somehow wrapped himself in them. There's no shirt, pants, jacket or anything like that, they're just pieces of fabric wrapped around his body like towels. One of them he wears as a scarf. On a good day he looks like some type of monk. On a bad day he just looks like a mess.

Howzer [3/10]:

You know that outfit Sportacus wears in LazyTown? That's his style. He wears things looking similar to that.

[nrilliree]

https://www.tumblr.com/kataraavatara/747601709337083904/sometimes-i-think-im-the-only-person-who-watched?source=share

The funny thing is that before this scene, Alicent had let Larys get away with killing two people for her own benefit. Justice didn't matter much to her at that moment. She also had Criston as a Guard after he savagely killed someone, and she has been trying for years to have Rhaenyra and her children exiled or even worse, killed. She also hides information when it benefits her; she didn't mention Aegon when she went to complain to Viserys about the pig's joke, when she knows perfectly well that Aegon participated and possibly planned it. When she went to Aegon's chambers, she basically told him that he could keep bothering Aemond, but only him. Alicent can overlook the crimes or bad behavior of others as long as it benefits her cause and herself.

That's why what Rhaenyra told her is completely true: Alicent goes around believing herself honorable, morally superior, and more correct than others, and she loves to judge. But she will be quite willing to turn a blind eye and allow crimes and bad behavior as long as they benefit her, and then she will turn around and continue acting as if she were holier than others.

I agree with @kataraavatara. People (including @thekinslayed) forget that just minutes earlier on screen Rhaenyra was talking to Daemon about how she didn't think Alicent was capable of being involved in the Strongs' murder after all. But when she saw that Alicent was capable of attacking a 6/7-year-old child with a knife to intentionally hurt him, and the law and the king's order did not stop her from doing so, she realized that yes, Alicent was capable of murder. And that she's involved in the deaths of Harvin and Lyonel.

Moreover, I do not think that Alicent's life was some great sacrifice and service for which she had to be rewarded, but rather something that was normal in Westeros - arranged marriages were commonplace and the fact that a woman after marriage was supposed to be faithful to the family husband was the norm, not a sacrifice. It's as if Catelyn deserved to be called a saint because she took care of the Starks' interests after her marriage 🙄

[walks-the-ages]

Honestly I got so excited while watching Transformers One because I totally thought they were going to do the brave, amazing new twist of actually fully destroying the Matrix, so that Orion/Optimus become a leader in his own right, and not because he's been chosen by Divine Right of Kings to be the leader of an entire planet......

...... and then they just did that anyways, and kept the status quo...

...even though Bumblebee literally killed far, far more people than Megatron did, but only Megatron is the bad guy here, because he wanted to kill the dictator himself after he was personally tortured and branded by said dictator, but its perfectly fine and in fact played off as a funny joke for Bumblebee to go around mowing down people with his knife hands and its funny and hilarious how Bumblebee is deliberately going around and joyfully terrorizing random civilians and destroying infrastructure for the fun of it and for the terror it causes random civilians?

Oh, but uh, Megatron is bad and evil for wanting to pull down monuments to fascists.

I'm sure this movie has zero propaganda in it whatsoever tho (sarcasm)

If Transformers One wanted to actually be an interesting and novel way to shape a reboot, they should have

Done away with the Matrix entirely. Get rid of that Divine Right of Kings concept entirely, and make Prime a title that is earned from the people instead of given by the gods.

Had Megatron and Optimus remain friends and allies. Optimus doesn't jump in front of a bullet to save a literal fascist dictator, and once Sentinel is dead without the horror of killing his best friend, Megatron turns to the city and shouts out how they're all free mechs, "Now who wants to tear down these statues with me??" to be met with roaring cheers as the entire planet of enslaved people get to celebrate their freedom.

Optimus and Megatron can still butt heads as friends and allies, from a tactical perspective, with Optimus sometimes having good ideas but more often then not its up to Megatron to actually do the correct logical thing, because Optimus still hasn't stopped being impulsive and rushing headlong into things without thinking of the consequences, especially when it comes to other people.

[praetorqueenreyna]

A present for @thrumbolt for our ACOTAR gift exchange!! I'll never say no to writing more Tamcien!

Click here to read on AO3 or continue reading below:

“I don’t believe you.”

Tamlin flushed bright red. “It’s true.”

“But it’s been—” Lucien paused to do some mental math. “Almost 100 years since you became High Lord?”

“Correct.”

“And you haven’t slept with anyone outside of Calanmai since then?”

“No.” Tamlin avoided Lucien’s gaze, his eyes cast downward onto the knife that he was sharpening to a sliver. His calloused hands guided the blade over the whetstone with an unexpectedly gentle precision.

Lucien hadn’t meant to embarrass Tamlin. He had simply teased the High Lord about one of the noblewomen who had been flirting with him on their last trip to the Winter Court. After a joke about the female warming herself in Tamlin’s bed, he had revealed that, outside of the ritual of Fire Night, he hadn’t bedded anyone since he had become High Lord.

“Why not?” Lucien asked. The idea that there was a dearth of available partners was absurd. Tamlin was handsome, and kind, and inelegantly charming when he wasn’t trying to be. Everywhere they went, both males and females batted their eyes at him, eager for a chance to roll in the sheets with the warrior lord. Tamlin had always politely turned down these advances in front of Lucien, but he had never dreamed that Tamlin was turning everyone away.

“I don’t know.” Tamlin sighed. “I guess…at first I was so preoccupied trying to get everything in order. I wasn’t prepared to be High Lord. I was paranoid and overwhelmed. I felt that getting that close to other fae would put Spring at risk. Then, after it had been a while…” he trailed off.

“What?” Lucien nudged when Tamlin didn’t continue.

“After it had been a while, it felt new. I hadn’t bedded many others before, and it had been so long, I was worried I’d be bad at it. It’s stupid, but there you go.”

Tamlin was so sweet, so earnest, so embarrassed, that Lucien wanted nothing more than to gather him in his arms and hold him close. Tamlin fumbled over his words, still blushing furiously, clearly expecting Lucien to mock him for his sexual inexperience. He would never do so, of course, but he was curious.

“What about Calanmai? That happens every year. Shouldn’t that count?”

“It’s not the same. That’s a ritual, and I’m barely even there. I don’t have to worry about anything then.” Tamlin shrugged, his shoulders tight.

The words were out of his mouth before he could begin to question them. “I could help you.”

Finally, Tamlin looked up at him with wide green eyes. “What do you mean?”

This is a bad idea, he warned himself, but it was too late to backtrack. “I mean, if you wanted to. With someone you trust.” Lucien took one of Tamlin’s hands off the knife, clasping it in his own. “With someone who trusts you.”

Tamlin blinked as comprehension dawned on him. “You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

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

They agreed to meet in Lucien’s room. Due to the nature of their visit, Lucien debated greeting Tamlin without any clothes. After a few minutes, he felt silly waiting naked at his desk, so he dressed himself in casual pants and an oversized tunic. He pretended to read, his ears straining towards the door, twitching at every sound. Finally, the unmistakable tread of Tamlin’s footsteps, followed by a timid knock on the door. Lucien rushed over to open it. Tamlin had been of similar mind and was dressed in simple sleeping clothes. He fidgeted in the doorway, reminding Lucien that he would have to take the lead tonight.

“Come here.” Lucien playfully grabbed the hem of Tamlin’s shirt and pulled him into the room. He guided them to the edge of the bed and paused. He wanted to give Tamlin chances to pull away or to guide them forward, whichever way he was feeling.

“What now?” Tamlin asked, his voice coming out a choked whisper.

“Now we get rid of this.” Lucien lifted Tamlin’s shirt up over his head. Tamlin raised his arms to help, allowing Lucien to manhandle him until the shirt could be carelessly tossed aside. “And this.” Lucien removed his own shirt, and it joined Tamlin’s on the floor. “And these.” In a single smooth motion, he slid his pants down and kicked them away, leaving him bare. Tamlin’s throat bobbed and he kept his eyes fixated on Lucien’s face, not allowing them to wander down the expanse of muscle and limbs now exposed before him. Without looking down, Lucien could already scent his arousal. He waited, and this time Tamlin moved on his own, fully undressing himself before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Perfect,” Lucien purred. He climbed on the bed and straddled Tamlin’s lap, settling his weight on the other male’s thighs. Tamlin’s hands hovered awkwardly in the air, skating around the edge of Lucien’s body before settling on his hips. “Now, kiss me.”

Tamlin obeyed, tentative at first, then diving in headfirst with a fervor that startled Lucien. The kiss was sloppy, but Tamlin more than made up for the lack of technique with eagerness. Lucien got lost in the kiss, temporarily forgetting what they were there to do. He savored the push and pull of Tamlin’s lips and tongue against his, the slide of their bare chests against each other. It was a surprise, then, when Tamlin shifted, flipping them over so Lucien was splayed on his back under him.

“I thought you said you were out of practice,” Lucien accused.

“It’s starting to come back to me.” Tamlin kissed him again, then dragged his tongue over Lucien’s chin and down his neck, swirling it in the hollow of his throat. He continued his languid exploration of Lucien’s body: tongue tracing across his chest, outlining the muscles on his abdomen, skirting his navel until it finally reached where Lucien needed it most.

Tamlin was an excellent student. With only a few breathless instructions, he had Lucien coming undone beneath him. When Lucien couldn’t stand it any longer, he pulled Tamlin up, kissing him fiercely, tasting himself on the other male’s mouth. He educated Tamlin until the early light of dawn began to creep in through the windows. The High Lord’s stamina was incredible; Lucien now understood why fae were so eager to be chosen as maiden at Fire Night.

Lucien drowsily watched Tamlin slip out of bed and begin to dress himself. “What are you doing?”

“I have a lot of work to do today.”

“You can’t be serious.” Lucien stretched, feeling every ache and pain of their active night. “I don’t think I can even walk.”

“Luckily, you don’t have to.” Tamlin came to stand by the side of the bed. Light as a feather, he ran the back of one finger down the side of Lucien’s face. Lucien closed his eyes at the tender contact. “Thank you. Truly. Get some rest, I’ll see you tonight for dinner.” He hesitated, as if there was more he wanted to say. Lucien waited, unsure if he even wanted Tamlin to continue. His High Lord simply cleared his throat and hurried out of the room, leaving Lucien surrounded by his scent in his sheets.

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

The Calanmai drums beat a heavy, sensual rhythm, barely muffled by the walls of the cave. Lucien sat on the stone altar he had been placed on, watching the High Lord carefully.

“You’re not him, are you?” he finally said.

The being inhabiting Tamlin’s body tilted its head. “No.” Its manner was feline and predatory, so unlike the sweet Tamlin that Lucien was familiar with. When it pinned Lucien with its gaze, he could see that Tamlin’s green eyes were swallowed up by endless black.

Despite being so close to Tamlin, Lucien actually knew very little about what happened to him during the Rite. Tamlin didn’t like to talk about it, and simply gave a vague explanation that his body became a vessel for the power of the ancient gods. Only now, after Tamlin pushed through the crowd of maidens to pick him, did he realize the full extent of the ritual. Tamlin was fully possessed; whatever god that had been invited in was controlling his every movement.

Lucien had a million questions, but there was one that was more pressing than anything else. “Why me?” It wasn’t unheard of for the Spring Lord to pick a male for the ritual. It hadn’t happened under Tamlin’s reign, though.

“The choice is influenced by the High Lord’s preferences,” the being in Tamlin’s body explained. “The Rite is more powerful and more effective when completed with someone he desires.” Its mouth twitched into a smirk. “Your lessons had more influence on your lord than you realized.”

Lucien opened his mouth to retort. Tamlin’s body flickered out of existence and reappeared in front of him, pressing him down onto the altar. It kissed Lucien, flooding his mouth with the cold nothing of the cosmos.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it good for you.” Between one blink and the next, they were both naked. “Just like you taught us.”

[eveandtheturtles]

If I may make a suggestion for the Leo×Reader thing:

How about one of those 4 and 1 times he makes her blush and the one time he's like, really flustered by her.

maybe something in the tactical!Turtles AU thing I've seen around?

This didn't want to click for me for a long time, since all I've seen was Leo with a sniper rifle(?) but after I kind of reworked it in my brain to knives it just went *click* and here we are. Apologies it took me a while and might be not that good! If anyone is interested I got headcanons for these boys.

Warning: Violence mentions

Rating: Uh... Teen?

Pairing: Bayverse!Leo x Reader

Tactical AU I believe belongs to @/donathan

The 4 times Leo made you flustered and 1 time you made his brain shut down.

1.

You didn’t mean to be there. You were supposed to have been home a long time ago but slammed with double shift at the last second you had to stay at work and as result get home super late at night. No one warned you there would be some shady ass military maneuvers in your neighborhood!

But now you are pressed tight to the wall with a big ass knife almost touching your cheek. The incredibly tall soldier was wearing that full-face, black, ski mask with just those steel blue eyes piercing right through you.

“Um…” 

He was huge, intimidating, and decked all out in tactical gear. 

“It’s just a civilian,” he spoke to whoever was listening to them and then put the knife away. “Ma’am, it’s really dangerous right now, please go back home and get inside.”

“Uh, I- um, I was going home- late shift-” you tried to explain yourself. 

“Where do you live?” he asked. He had a nice voice, a bit commanding. 

You told him the address. He took a moment to take it in and then touched an earpiece. 

“I’ll walk her home, be right there,” he told his, you figured, fellow soldiers. Then he looked back at you and you swallowed. “After you ma’am.” He gestured with his arm, allowing you to walk first.

You liked how he called you ma’am. So polite. Yet, not much of a talker. He simply delivered you to your building’s doorstep. You noted the weird shape of his body - especially his back and those three fingers on each of his hands. You didn’t ask - that would have been rude.

“Thank you,” you said. 

“No problem, sorry about the-” he touched the spot on his jaw where his knife was on yours. 

“I’m sure you had a reason,” you replied. 

He nodded. “Don’t get in trouble,” he said. You noticed he was kind of stalling.

You smiled. “I’ll try.” 

Your eyes met and your stomach fluttered gently. He cleared his throat and you turned around to enter your apartment number and code. “What’s your-” you glanced over your shoulder and he was gone. You looked for him quickly but he simply vanished into the night. You lost your chance to ask for his name.

2. 

You expected to never meet the mysterious soldier again. You recalled the encounter to your friend who joked you must have met Batman and missed your chance to be the future Mrs. Wayne. It gave you a good laugh. And then it was back to the mundane. For a week at least.

It was during yet another night shift you’d meet Mr Tall and Mysterious. 

It was just after closing and you were ready to go home with everyone else already gone. Just your bad luck you forgot your phone by the counter and had to go back for it. Suddenly, someone literally crashed through the front, display window. Lots of gunfire, shouting and a sudden yell of:

“MIKEY NO!” And a sudden flash and bang and you were on the floor under something heavy. 

Correction - someone heavy.

You stared at the familiar eyes. Your ears were ringing. 

He looked up, then ducked his head again, and holding yours to his chest protected you as something exploded again but this time way closer. Splinters flew everywhere.

His chest was really firm, something (guns? other weapons?) was pocking your sides. Then as quickly as it happened, he was gone again. You stayed down, a bit too in shock for a reaction. But you did manage to roll and take a look how he and two other soldiers took down a whole gang right there in your restaurant. Soon Blue Eyes appeared before you again.

“Are you- it’s you again.” He frowned recognizing you.

“Hi?” You said weakly, sitting up. 

Immediately he was by your side, finding you something to sit on. You looked around and two other huge men in tactical gear were finishing tying up the (you assumed) bad guys. Then you hissed a little, jerking your head, startled. 

“Sorry, you got a cut here,” Blue Eyes said and your eyes wandered up to him. He patched you up quickly. He was very gentle though. It made your heart flutter a little. 

The invaders and your savior disappeared soon after with advice to go to ER to check if there weren’t other serious injuries. You didn’t. Mostly because you couldn’t afford that but you did follow the instructions of ‘in case of concussion’ you found on the Internet.

You fell asleep for your first nap with a dream of the bluest eyes.

3.

The third time you met Blue Eyes your bag was stolen in the middle of the day. You chased after the thief intent on definitely getting it back and maybe teaching the thief some fear of you in the process. You followed him into an alley and your run came to a halt when you saw the culprit on the ground with Blue Eyes over him while he was holding someone else by their collar.

You both looked really shocked by this encounter and you blurted out: “We really need to stop meeting like this.”

Somehow he huffed a laugh and shook his head. Then he put down the guy he was probably interrogating and put him in a headlock while taking your bag and walking to you. 

“Is this yours?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you said taking it back. You noted that the little skin around his eyes you could see was green. A paint? “Did I interrupt something?” you asked.

“You could say that,” he replied with a nod.

“I should go then.” You gestured to the main street behind you. 

“Yeah.” He was so amused and that made you grin in response. 

“I’ll see you around then?” 

He laughed and you felt the flutters again. “I really hope not, you make me look so bad at my job,” he said, and yet you didn’t think he meant it. 

“Hey, can you two flirt somewhere else or can I go?” The guy Blue Eyes still had in a headlock wheezed.

“Shut up, Kenneth,” the soldier said and winked at you.

You waved a little at him and turned around leaving him behind.

4. 

The fourth time brought everything closer home. Literally. You got home early from work and were enjoying your free time as the next day you had off. Suddenly there was a knock on the window from the direction of the fire escapes. 

Curious but cautious, you grabbed your baseball bat and went to check you what it was about. 

Your heart dropped when you saw Blue Eyes on the other side of your window, clutching his side's 

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah! Of course, my god what happened to you!" You took notice of the blood dripping between his fingers. The shirt was soaked in it. 

"Will it make it better if I say most of it ain't mine?" He tried to joke but it sounded weak.

"Sure…" You guided him to the bathroom where you kept your first aid stuff.

"Where is your squad?" You asked.

He shook his head. "It was a solo op, can't tell you much but my comms are busted." He took in a shaky breath. "I will need to use your phone."

You nodded and sat him on the toilet. While he held on to the wound you started unstrapping all the buckles of the multiple belts he had on himself. 

“I need to take off your ski mask and all of the layers on your torso.” You told him.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” He protested.

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re going to see me and run away screaming,” he confessed.

“I wouldn’t.”

"I don't know if I want to test that theory," he said softly.

"Listen, I don't care how disfigured you are right now, you are bleeding all over my bathroom and if you don't want my help why are you even here?" You huffed, your fists propped over your hips now.

"I don't know…" he admitted. "I'm sorry, I should-" he started to stand up.

"Stop." You placed your hands over his shoulders. "I want to help you. Please," you pleaded.

He looked at you, his blue eyes so incredibly sad. Finally, he nodded and braced himself. 

It was an unnerving moment. You almost stopped breathing as you reached the edge of the ski mask. Then slowly you started rolling it up. You frowned at the green color of his skin and…scales? You kept going. 

Before, you thought the odd shape of his face was due to some sort of weird mask under the ski one but no. The full reveal made you feel a bit dizzy.

A… tortoise? 

"I'm a turtle actually," he said slowly and you felt yourself heat up in embarrassment realizing you said that out loud.

"Sorry," you mumbled and reached to his shirt and vests.

Once it all piled up on your floor with a separate pile of his weapons (you felt like there was a small artillery now there), you opened your first aid kit and tried not to think too much.

He was so muscular but not in obnoxious way, thick biceps, firm plastron and there was an actual shell on his back?? You tried to focus on the task at hand, wiping the blood and disinfecting, but you glanced up and saw him stare at you intently.

"Well," you tried to break the silence. "I didn't run for the hills."

"Are you going to?" He asked in all seriousness.

"I don't think so," you said. "Are there… more people like you?"

"That's-" he was about to reply but you cut him off.

"Classified?"

"Yeah," he chuckled and hissed a little. "But I will tell you that you met although I didn't talk to two of my brothers."

"Ah, so this whole thing is a family business, gotcha." You started wrapping him up and you had to get much closer to him, almost hugging him to get the bandage around him.

He lifted his arms a little to let you work. 

"There's all done," you said as you tied the knot on the bandage.

"Thank you." He inspected your handiwork. "Not bad."

"Thanks." You put the first aid kit away. "Do you want to stay here and I will bring you the phone or do you want to maybe go to my living room and get comfy on the sofa?"

"I won't say no to a sofa," he smiled and you helped him up. 

His skin was warm under your fingers, smooth, the shell was rough and he was so heavy. You decided you will process everything later. 

You both sat down and you let him slip out of your fingers. 

"You smell nice," he mumbled and you swallowed hard. 

"Thanks," you replied. "I'll get the phone." 

You left your mobile in the bedroom. Using this opportunity of being a lone you took a deep breath. Oh my god, your secret crush soldier boy was a giant turtle. Still a very handsome, giant turtle though. You could live with that. 

Couple more deep breaths then you got what you were looking for and rejoined him in the living room. 

"Here you go," you said, handing it to him.

"Thanks," said and quickly picked out a phone number. 

You decided to give him some sort of privacy and went to get some tea for both of you. Or coffee. Okay, you didn't know what he was drinking. Instead of going back you just started boiling some water. 

The bits and pieces of conversation you overheard told you nothing. Probably some sort of code. After a moment you re-entered the living room.

"Hey, so do you want tea or coffee?" 

"No thanks, thanks for the phone, though" he handed you your mobile back. 

"Okay," you took it and left again to the kitchen to make tea just for yourself. 

When you returned he was out cold, his chest falling and rising rhythmically. Wow, he fell asleep fast. You set your cup down and grabbed your blanket and started to out it over him. Could he get cold?

You were about to walk away when you felt his hand wrapping around yours. He cracked his eyes open and whispered your name, making your heart flutter helplessly in your chest.  “Don’t go."

How could you say no? 

+1

An hour later a loud knocking woke you both up from your nap. You didn't even register when or how he gently moved you off of him on the sofa and went to check on the door. Blue Eyes moved so quickly he almost broke laws of physics you decided.

You heard him talk with someone who sounded very angry. Then your doors closed and he showed up over you.

"It's my squad," he said.

"Oh," you definitely sounded disappointed. 

He briefly went to the bathroom to retrieve his weapons and clothes.

"I can wash it for you?" You tried to offer, hoping for an excuse to see him again.

"I really shouldn't-" he sighed. 

"Will you at least tell me your name?"

He hesitated with a glance in the direction of the door and said, "It's-"

"Classified?" Your face fell in further disappointment. 

"No, it's Leo."

Your face lit up as you smiled brightly. "Leo," you repeated and you almost noticed the small hitch in his breathing as his own heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name on your lips. 

"Hey, Leo," you repeated. "Can you come over here for a moment?" You asked, kneeling on the sofa.

He approached it from the backrest side, curious as to what you'd want from him.

Immediately you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. You heard a clutter over the floor and the door bursting open.

"5 MINUTES IS UP!" someone yelled then went quiet and-

"You guys owe me a 20," someone said as-a-matter-of-factly, which was followed by two groans. 

After eternity and not long enough you pulled back to catch your breath. "So, I will see you around?" You asked, staring into his blue eyes.

"I- wha- uhm," he nodded, still trying to jump-start his brain. 

"Come on Romeo," two large figures, you guessed it was his brothers, pulled him by the back of his shell.

"Bye Juliette!" The smallest of the four called to you, waving, very chipper. 

You waved them back as they fixed your door back in. You touched your lips and smiled. Hopefully you will get to see him again sooner than later.

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@madammuffins