#damn this is so unfair for you.... and so he kinda hovers for a while. and then again once gordon loses his hand

[boyheros]

my au has such heavy frenrey leanings honestly I'm kind of embarrassed. they were already weird as fuck in canon when they hated each other and now the whole premise of the AU is for Gordon to Get Along with Benrey so it's like. can you two relax

[titanicfreija]

"Hey-hey, New Light!"

Freija dismissed the call, not recognizing the voice and not wanting to deal with anyone that could tell how young she was. It didn't help. The Hunter caught up to her and slapped her back with a clap of armor. "Hey, hey, hey, I saw the score, and I wanted you to know that I only did as good as I did because of you, okay?"

Freija blinked at the ground, eventually daring to lift her head when the Hunter didn't vanish.

"Are you new? Or returning after a long absence?" asked the Hunter, putting a hand on Freija's pauldron. "I'm Lin Po," he said then, and he took his helmet off to reveal a fair-skinned dark-haired human head. "Me and Delta over there are headed out for drinks, wanna come? We wanted to catch as many as we could on the way out, we've been in the same pool for a while now. Gives me a sense of camaraderie when we end up fighting with and against in the same runs, you know?"

Again, Freija blinked at him, not sure how to respond. Mostly she wanted to shower and ask Rise to remog all her armor so no one would recognize her on sight-- being reassured and invited out didn't feel real for some reason.

Lin Po saw someone behind Freija and she turned before he even moved. "Hey!"

"Oi," they replied, and Freija looked over to see a black-clad Hunter still in their Knucklehead. "Hey, it's you," they said to Freija, pointing. "How do you cap points like that? You came out on top every match, even when I was running with you."

"I died twice as often," Freija pointed out. "That's part of the trick," she sighed then and she buried her head under an arm. "I haven't recovered from the loss of an old piece of equipment. Shaxx said it was boring and unfair."

A sympathetic look crossed the bunch, and Freija felt much better about accepting the invitation.

"Hang on, I'll message the guys I was with," said the new Hunter.

~

The bar set a room aside for what they predicted would be a fairly big crowd, and the Guardians milled in to pay for a round each and hover around to discuss "business". Freija's misery led to an exchange of stories around rule changes, bans on devices and tools, and various other means by which Shaxx kept the Crucible from being unfair, and the fighters slowly learned names of their killers after recognizing the causes of death strapped to their back, and got to know them over discussions of the morning.

"You're the Warlock with that damn Igneous Hammer!"

"Getting shot really knocks your spatial awareness, I can't find the doors anymore."

"Wait, you're that Stasis Hunter with the void scout, aren't you? Green glowy Ghost?"

"Man, what happened? I felt kinda bad for shooting you that time."

"You! You're the one that ruined my twenty-streak!"

"Hell, I tried to tag along with you but you move like lightning! And I'm the Striker! You're... what, Void?"

"Yeah, you got me, but I got you back, tap for tap."

"Hey, you know you've got a gun, right? You kept trying to hit people instead of shooting them."

"Some dumbass kept storming the point by themselves, taking on like five of us at a time. Practically suicide. I wish Shaxx wouldn't do that to the Kinderguardians. Back in my day--"

"Back in our day, you spent a lot more time hungry and sober. Enjoy the luxury."

Freija enjoyed listening, even when someone was clearly talking shit about her or whining. Her comrades were pretty good about keeping talk about each other civil, and a few of them were stuck-up and proud of themselves (they were good but that didn't give them room to be assholes).

Except there'd been a Titan in blue circling the room, which was odd, until Freija spotted why he was circling-- Two other Titans following-- or chasing-- him.

Pretty obviously, he wanted to be here but couldn't find a way to escape the only reasons he apparently didn't want to be here. The other two Titans in matching steel armor followed and usually didn't directly interact, but he'd still get unsettled and move to the next group or next seat.

"Hey," she called to him as he passed. He let the helmet down out of manners, a purple Awoken with purple eyes and blue hair. She gestured at the seat next to her, so she'd be between him and his pursuers. "What's up?"

"Ah, nothin' much," he said airily, pretending nothing was wrong. If she hadn't just come from the crucible, she'd have missed his nervous glancing. "Had a big morning, this sounded like a nice, chill way to cool down. I don't recognize you, what's your guns?" He glanced at her hip at the Survivor's Epitaph. "Ah. I think I remember you."

She glanced over him and didn't recognize anything. "I'm running a hand cannon and grenade launcher right now, but I'm scooting kits. Name's Freija, I've been bottom of most of the scoreboards I'm on," she admitted.

The Titan flinched for her and laughed as he took the seat, turning it to face the room and keeping a nervous eye out. "I see. I spent a lot of time dead, pretty sure half the memories from this morning got blasted into Infinity's sands."

"That sounds a lot more poetic than it sounds," chuckled Freija. "We probably never ran together 'cos Shaxx was using us to weigh down our teams."

He reviewed a scoreboard projection on his datapad and frowned thoughtfully. "You're not bad-bad, though. You cap points. One time you got ten, that's nothing to slouch at." He smirked slightly and glanced up and relaxed. "Seemed directly inverse to your K/D, in fact," he added, scanning back through.

"I'll cap a point with my dying breath," Freija chuckled. "It's one of my favorite things to do, really, I'll sneak around back while everyone's fighting over B. Sometimes I just die, especially if they all die at once and come back around their point-- I'll get surrounded by five pissed off and freshly reloaded Guardians fast. But then that's leaving B and our point clear for those few seconds. And then if they don't, I have point C. Even if they claim it right back, they had to stop to do it." She grinned at the Titan and glanced around for the ones in gray, too, failing to find them. "You said you had a rough morning. How rough was it?"

The Titan slouched heavily and ran his hands through his hair to pretend he wasn't hiding his face. "I got a real zero."

Freija sucked air through her teeth and put a hand to her heart. "Ooof, ow. What'd happened that you got an ass-kicking like that?"

He didn't bother sitting up to gesture wildly with one arm. "It was just a bad game! First one of the morning, trying a new gun, called on the wrong grenade half the match 'cos I got into a habit in the field-- just a really bad match!"

"It happens," Freija laughed. She scraped at least three kills a match, today, but she would never forget her starting point.

"Ugh," he moaned in response, finally lifting his head. "I'm Tam. How long you been in the crucible?"

"A few years, off and on. Been on hiatus lately."

"That would be why you don't recognize this waste of Light," said a tenor behind Freija. She missed her helmet when she glanced at her "radar", and she turned to face the pair.

"What didn't he tell me?" she asked. They let their helmet down to reveal an Awoken with blue hair and green eyes that bore into Freija like bullets. He looked like he'd eaten something sour and was trying not to spit it out. The dark skinned blond human standing behind him seemed more easygoing but concerned nonetheless. Freija didn't pick up much hostility from the pair, not even from the grumpy one, but for some reason she still felt the urge to defend Tam. She wasn't sure she could, but she wanted to.

"He's been sabotaging matches for a week," the Awoken man stated, voice hard as steel.

"I'm changing my equipment," Tam objected under his breath.

"Yeah, actually," agreed the human casually. The Awoken shouldered between the human and the other Titans and he crossed his arms firmly, using his size to intimidate effectively.

"He's been sabotaging all week," he repeated, gaze on Freija.

Freija rose to her feet but it didn't help-- she might have stood as high as his chin. "Okay, so? If you know it's because he's trying something new, the fuck is your problem?" She set her feet and shoulders, but he had to be fifty pounds heavier-- it took effort to stand strong. No guns for sake of bystanders, plain old fist fighting was the rules, and Freija was embarrassingly bad at it.

"He sucks," the Titan declared.

Suddenly, Freija's capacity for fist fighting didn't matter-- Tam shot past her, fist raised and glowing with Arc Light sending sparks down his arm.

The other Titan caught his hand easily, twisted his arm until he bent off balance, then pulled and lifted so quickly that even Freija didn't see exactly how Tam hit the floor.

"So?" Freija asked, dismissing the mound of Titan writhing next to them.

"So he sucks," the Titan repeated. "I'm sick of it."

"Fuck you," griped Tam as he finally untangled himself from himself and got his feet under him.

Freija gave Tam a dry half-smile. "I won't say you deserved that. But you did ask for it."

Tam stopped brushing himself off and lunged at Freija, fist raised. "You shut up!"

Unlike the other guy, Freija wasn't good at this. Despite her lack of skill, Tam's armor was even clunkier than hers and while she couldn't block his punch, it didn't hurt much-- badly placed with poor form. Planting her heel and returning the blow to his chest sent him staggering into a table full of drinks.

"Hey!" shouted the tenders as the rest of the room turned to look.

"Fuck off, guy. We have to suck to get better," Freija told the new Titan. The human went to help clean up.

"I know." Tam got to his feet and tried to get away, but the big one grabbed the back of his armor to pick him an inch off the floor. "He's coming with me," the Titan rumbled. "Gonna get some practice. No more fucking up matches for himself and everyone else, he's gonna learn to shoot straight."

Tam, previously kicking and attempting to crush the forearm of his perceived attacker, stopped. "What...?"

The massive man lifted and twisted Tam in his grip to put them nose to nose "You. Me. Training grounds. Practice." He looked to Freija with the same hard scowl. "Coming? You need it, too."

"Go fuck yourself," Freija grumped, but she looked to the ceiling. "Sunny?"

@annieruok94

[mamamittens]

Failwife au where Nikia has a brief moment to shine as utterly terrifying

So they're docked somewhere and most of the ship is off taking care of things or enjoying the town. Utterly reveling cause the island is actually pretty cool.

Nikia already has her night out and is enjoying the quiet that's even more quiet than normal.

Of course this is about when a marine ship comes along with who else but Akainu, ready to raise hell.

Whitebeard is pissed cause like, he doesn't want to deal with mad dog's shit right now, just enjoy his cute kids running around. Trying to square up right now would decimate the island and probably kill some of his own kids, even if he was right where Akainu was.

So now everyone has to scramble to GTFO or at least not get caught.

Several are trying not to get totally immolated with lava and are fucking struggling.

Suddenly, Akainu's head explodes like a lava filled balloon.

He's fine, but stunned. Pissed, actually.

Of course, the second bullet slams into his thigh and sends him to the ground. Not because it burst into lava, but because it stuck there and now he has to get it removed. Forget standing. He's used to tanking hits but like, fuck if you think hats something you can just walk tf off easily.

At least the crew has time to scramble out of there while the Marines get a doctor to remove the bullet without killing Akainu or maiming him in the process.

They're a ways off when the boys naturally notice Nikia is missing and raise hell in worry that she's still on the island and somehow missed the call to retreat. Wouldn't be the first time she had her head stuck in a book and missed something important.

Then, just before they start turning around or getting a lifeboat out, she's flying out of the clouds and gently lands on Whitebeard's shoulder.

"Hey, captain. Everyone make it alright?" She's geared up in her old uniform. A white snowsuit with a helmet that obscures her face. Sniper rifle held firmly in her grasp still.

Whitebeard, sharp as he is, laughs his ass off, nearly sending her to the ground if she hadn't hovered a bit over his jolting shoulders.

"I suppose we have you to thank for the quick retreat, daughter?"

"Suppose you do."

"Damn, Nikia, not even a warning shot?"

"The headshot was the warning shot. The leg was to prove a point."

"Which was?"

"That it could have been his face instead." Nikia huffs, putting aside her gun to remove her helmet. "Haki isn't that hard to do once you get the hang of it. Five inches away or three thousand feet at cloud level."

Then she just goes back to her room to change into comfy clothes and clean her gun.

Thatch is later found by Izou drinking from his personal stache.

"Are you alright, baby?" Izou can't help but ask, noting the significant amount missing from what was a full bottle that morning.

"...yeah. I just realized something about myself today. That's all." Thatch groans.

"...and that... Would be?"

"I have a type!" He wails. "A horribly unfair type!"

"...uhuh... My condolences." Izou responds dryly, taking away the bottle.

"Unfairly pretty and capable of killing me at fifty or more paces in a single shot. I saw it, you know? Akainu's head exploding. That shouldn't be hot. I don't find him hot, I swear babe! But it was soooo hot!" Thatch laments. "...Think if I asked nicely on my knees she'd shoot me?"

"No. But if you embarrass us like that I might." Izou responds dryly. "Is it hotter that she was literally hiding in the clouds for that shot?"

"Kinda. Why, you jealous I might think her shooting is hotter than yours?"

"Just wondering if we're on the same page... That was pretty hot. Wonder if she can do trick shots."

Thatch wails again.

"Stop! I can't get anymore turned on!"

"Shame we'll never get to see her form though."

"okay, that is kind of a let down... Still hot though. Dead before you even know it... Fuck."

"Fuck."

"She could have one shot an admiral... Almost wish she had a bounty poster so we could keep it after it spiked for that."

"Like you wouldn't be pissed that someone else could be fawning over her too."

"...nuh-uh!"

"I remember my updated poster after we got together. You were seething when several of my squad kept a copy for themselves."

"You looked hot! Shame on them for sexualizing you like that!"

"You kept it too, don't lie."

"Well how often were you going to look that good with blood on your face, honestly?" Thatch huffed. "I'm just a man at the end of the day, baby! A simple, hot-blooded man!"

"Who wants to beg to be shot from several thousand feet."

"Any day of the week!"

"... I'm not giving back the bottle."

"Let me drown out my sad, horny thoughts!"

"No. Bed."

"... With you?"

"Only if I lead tonight."

"Shit, I thought you'd never ask!"

Thatch is a simple man and Izou can pretend he's different as much as he wants but they both know it's a lie.

Meanwhile Nikia is embarrassed she stepped in cause it feels like she's mothering the crew and stepping on toes. Even if she did do it as a last resort.

There's a blank bounty poster with "The Sniper Yokai" put into circulation with an additional money prize for information identifying said ghost.

They do, in fact, keep a copy despite not having a picture of Nikia on it.

[changlix-mp4]

let’s play a game

pairing : bangchan x f.reader

genre : smut , fluff ig

warnings : teasing, teasing, use of pet names, making out, dry humping, marking, riding , unprotected sex, cum inside, cockwarming (yes again, cockwarming is kind of cute for me sorry sksldjk)

(+) ft. Changlix ♡ appearance uwu ,, ahah

words count : 2,6k

A/N : don't mind my mistakes please my eng still sucks ,, i still hope you guys will like this one ,even if I feel like every of my long fics are invisible help TT skkdjl , anyways thx for reading,, FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED ♡

M RATED

After a long day of procrastination, you and your boyfriend!Chan, were sat onto the couch, a movie playing in the background, since both of you were on your phones. After awhile, Chan broke the silence “babe” , you hummed turning your head toward him. He looked down at you “we didn’t do anything today”, you sighed  “I know... It was such a boring day. We had to do the laundry, clean the house but the only thing we did was sitting there and eating” —  “ugh...we’ll do it tomorrow” Chan lazily replied. “We’re saying that since last week” you said looking at him both of you bursting in laughing “we’re so lazy” you exclaimed still laughing. “nah, you’re the lazy one here” he retracted. “What?! you’re always the one saying We wiLL dO iT tOmOrrOw” you imitated him. “Hey I don’t talk like that!” he said laughing. “no no really. You sound exactly like that” you smiled at him teasingly.

Chan suddenly smirked as you gave him a questioning look. He bent down a bit, his lips brushing against your ear, breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps raising on the delicate skin. “you want me to show you how you sound when you moan my name?” he whispered biting your earlobe softly. You gasped slapping his arm “shut up idiot”. He whined holding his arm playfully.

“So?” he asked throwing an arm over your shoulders  “what’d you like to do babygirl? . You laid your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know”. Chan thought for a moment  “hmm, what about we play a game?”. You raised your head “getting interesting” — “I was thinking about something...freaky”  — ”Chan! You-” — he hushed you before continuing “listen baby. Let’s do an arm wrestling”. You gave him a confused look, it was nothing freaky . What did he have in mind?  “The winner gets to do whatever he wants to the loser.” — “What? no!” — “Why not love?” — “are you kidding me? You’re one hundred percent stronger than me. I’m gonna lose for sure!” you whined. “ I’ll hold myself, I’ll be gently” he smirked. “That’s not funny” you pouted crossing your arms over your chest. “C’mon babygirl” he said putting his hand on your thigh stroking the soft skin.

Looking at his veiny hand going up and down, you got an idea. “ I have an idea” you said hesitantly. “But it’s kinda embarrassing” you admitted looking at your lap playing with your fingers. “Tell me babygirl, don’t be shy” he approached you lifting your face slowly. “ ‘k hm.. let’s make out-”  before you could finish your sentence, Chan interrupted you “Wait ,that’s not a game.. But y’know I’m down for it” you stopped him from hovering you “Chan, I’m not finished” you tsked “I don’t want to play anymore” he whined “shut up Chris” -- “ok M’am”  he sighted pouting. “arg don’t make that face. well , yea let’s do that but the first one making a noise loses , the winner then will do whatever he wants to the loser”. Chan smirked to himself  “your game is interresting , very interresting” you looked up at him shyly. Not lying to yourself, a part of you regretted this game, the other one was excited. “Let’s go!” you lowered your head not wanting him to see your timid face  “BABYGIRL IT’S TOO LATE TO BE SHY! NOW GET YOUR CUTE AND SEXY ASS HERE!!” Chan practically yelled. You chuckled still embarrassed but you took a deep breath and looked in his eyes “I can’t lose this” you announced determined  “I can’t either” he muttered. 

You sat comfortably on his lap.You watched him attentively waiting for whatever move he was gonna do. His hands found their places on your thighs and caressed them up and down. Wanting to tease a little bit,  you ghosted your lips over his beautilul plump ones . When he went to kiss you, you backed a little away as he chased after you “You’re so fucking sexy, y’know that babygirl?” you bent down kissing all along his jaw until you reached to his ear licking it slowly “Is that so?”. Chan wanted to groan but bite his lips instead. You kissed his neck , finding his sweet spot. He threw his head back as you sucked on the sensitive spot, his hands gripping tighter on your hips. You were driving him crazy. But he couldn’t show it. Getting impatient Chan decided to make a move. He took your face in his hands, looking at you with nothing but love and lust. He finally kissed you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other one on your hip. The make-out session was getting heated as you detached yourself from the kiss breathless.

“ I will admit that you’re really good at this game y/n” he admitted rubbing the small of your back “you’re giving me a hard time”. You smiled at him satisfied by his comment “But baby, that doesn’t mean I’ll give up. I can’t wait for you to lose” he whispered against your lips. “n-not gonna happen” you objected. He knew the effect he has on you. You suddenly started grinding on him knowing well he always gets hard when you do it. And damn you were right. Chan’s lips parted slightly, you were sure he was gonna groan or something but before he did , he let his head fall down on your shoulder and bite on the tender flesh.  Your eyes squeezed shut as you pulled on his hair. You were weak, Chan knew you’re slowly losing at your own game. Chan couldn’t hold back anymore as he finally decided to break you, he thrusted his hips into yours making you moan at the delicious friction of his jean on your slightly covered clit. Chan smirked wildly at you , poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue “ I won” -- “That’s unfair..” you trailed out. ”y’know , I really liked your little game,  It was somehow ...entertaining”. You lowered your head on his broad shoulder sighting. He stroked your hair with one hand, the other one playing with the hem of your -his- black oversized hoodie. “so?” you asked defeated, “well , since you have to do what I want” he trailed , you waited for him to continue. “I want you to-”, Chan was interrupted by your phone ringing, the song “what is love” echoing in the room.

It meant only one thing. It was Felix calling. ( it was the ringtone for him ). You answered the facetime “ hello, how you doing?” Felix asked happily “hi Felix , doing well how about you?” you replied. “Hey Changbin!” , this one was driving as he waved at you quickly. “I’m fine. hm Changbin and I were hanging out, and since we’re not too far, we wanted to know if you guys want to come with us at the mall. Y’know eating ice cream and hang out together”. Chan looked at you gesturing you to say no , since he couldn’t be seen on the screen. You eyed Chan as he made signs.. like he was sleeping? no no . tired! “Oh Lix’..hm..maybe next time.Chan and I are a bit tired”. Still sitting on Chan’s lap, you could feel his hard-on, you were extremely turned on just by feeling his covered erection. You gulped while Felix was whinning and telling you he missed you and Chan. “Well , oki then , next time” he sighed. “See you ”Changbin said.

Ending the call , you glared at him “ What?” he asked confused “It’s been ages since I saw them and went to the mall” you pouted sadly. “ y/n don’t exagerrate we saw them..LAST WEEK and we went the the mall there are like two weeks ago” you continued pouting trying to ignore how turned on you were. After a while, Chan cupped your cheeks softly “baby, i promise , tomorrow we’ll call them to hang out”  you missed your best friends and he could understand that, you smiled at him happily and hugged him tightly. “you’re welcome baby” he said laughing.

 “But where were we?” he resumed smirking. You sighed before answering  “you were on your way to torture me” he slapped your thigh laughing  “don’t say non-sense”.  “Well , I want you to” he thought for a moment again “I want you to ride me” he smirked. “It’s not a punishment” -- “ who talked about punishment. You said the winner does what he wants. And that’s what I want”  You rolled your eyes and smiled slightly .You liked loved riding him and damn he loved it too. You both loved the intimacy of this position. Skin against skin , bodies so close , looking into each others eyes. He loved how easily he can mark you , kiss you , hold you. He pushed your hair behind you as you caressed his cheek lovingly. You approached him , kissing him.

Getting hornier and impatient Chan talked again “what are you doing?! C’mon! Ride me babygirl!” —  “you’re so earger, let’s enjoy this-” —  “shh! I won! My command! My rule! You should obey!” he took your hands placing them on his belt . You got the hint as you unbuckled it “that’s my good girl”  he chuckled  “shut up idiot”  he slapped your ass lightly making you whine. You took his shirt off slowly , you stared at his well-built body practically drooling over it. “ you staring”  he smirked. “ how not to?” you kissed his neck as he groaned when you sucked little marks on his sensitive skin . You were too much for him , he grabbed your hips guilding you to grind on him harder. He backed away from you, locking eyes with you as he lifted your hoodie up just enough to see what’s under it. “fuck, so pretty!” he said breathless.

 He attacked your neck, leaving love bites. “Baby I want to make love to you” — “but what about the-” — “Don’t talk about this stupid game” he said laughing. “But babe” , you came back into your sitting position looking at him curiously waiting for him to finish his sentence “ I still want you to ride me” — “are you serious Chan?” you said laughing , he raised an eyesbrow “ Well , I guess I want to continue the game” you looked at him with a poker face. “BUT after  that I want to make love to you” he winked at you. You turned your head away trying not to laugh. Chan smiled at your reaction. “ ok then” you said “ yea let’s get the D“ he said laughing  “OHMYGODYOURESOSTUPID”. He laughed again before reconnecting his lips with yours. “AND YOU’RE SO SEXY AND ADORABLE , you’re my babygirl.. only mine” he whispered.

He lowered his boxer down a bit more and take your hand putting them on his erection “Do you feel that? You’re the reason of it” you bite your lips closing your eyes when you felt his cock twitched against your fingers. You took his hard-on out of his confinement, freeing him. He groaned as the cold air hit his manhood. Touching the red tip of his lenght you could feel the pre-cum already leaking. He put his fingers on the wet patch on your panties , making you whine at the contact. “Baby please” he pushed the material to the side “do you want me to prep-” — “Chan , let’s skip the foreplay” — “ everything for my princess”.

You aligned yourself on top of him. He held you by your hips helping you sink on him. Entering you, Chan let out a breathy moan. He felt so good inside of you. You rested your forehead on his , trying to catch your breath. “Babe, are you ok?” he asked caressing your burning cheek. “ yea yea , I’m fine don’t worry Channie” you smiled at him reassuringly. You started moving slowly, grinding on him sensually. He threw his head back , enjoying the pleasuring pace. You took the opportunity to kiss his neck ”Do you feel good baby?” you whispered onto his throat . “If i feel good? It’s like I’m in h-heaven” he said practically laughing “oh my god stop” you stopped slapping his torso. He kissed your cheek  “ it feels so good babygirl, you always make me feel that way. You’re so good for me” he answered. You smiled at him cheeks heating up. He put his hands on each side of your hips and suddenly thrusted into you. “ ah fuck!” you fell foward on his chest. “baby don’t stop riding me” you could feel him smirking. You started moving again , still holding them, Chan controlled the rythym and made you move a bit faster. He started matching his hips with yours. Your fingernails were buried deep into his bicep as red little marks appeared. You pulled at his hair as you felt the oh-so familiar knot in your lower stomach. You tighter around him “fuck are you close babygirl?” You could only nod. Chan’s hand travelled lower, caressing your stomach feeling the bulge on your lower abdoment, cursing he started rubbing your bud of nerves, drawing little circles. You felt like you were about to explode. “Baby, I-” —  “Babygirl cum for me” , just the sound of his voice made you cum the second after,  making you moan his name over and over loudly. Chan thrusted in you one last time, his cock twitching inside you as he cummed just after you , filling you to the brim. You let your head fell on his shoulder,  both of you breathing heavily. 

“You did so well for me” he purred caressing your back. Still inside you Chan moved and you winced in pain. “Y/n, you good?” he asked concerned  “yea yea I am. Can we just stay like that please?” — “of course” he said trying his best to make you more confortable on top of him. He closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of your warmth around him,  your skin against his, feeling your heartbeat. “how about we take a shower and go eat something?” he asked softly while caressing your back up and down slowly. “Not gonna lie, you ended me” he laughed out loud. “But I’m down to eat. I’m hungry” you smiled  ”well, fine, hmm I was thinking about calling Felix and Changbin to join us, I mean if you agr-” — ” yes!! Call them!” Chan laughed again. 

“Let’s take our shower now” he started helping you to stand up”— “ wait..no.wait!” — “ what is it? did I hurted you?” he asked almost panicked. “hey I’m ok don’t worry” you chuckled , “you agreed to stay like that for a moment” you pouted. “Oh. I thought you’d get ready now” — “ I just want you to stay inside me for a moment. You know, I want to stay in your arms” he smiled at your words. “so , you’re into cockwarming huh?” he said teasingly. “oh shut up idiot” . “c’mere” he gestured you to come closer. You hugged him right away. “I love you” — “ I love you even more princess” — “ nope , I don’t think so , I love you the most” - “nah I love you more” — “shh I love you more than Felix loves Changbin” — “YO what the f-” —  “shh” you kissed his cheek chuckling.

—

a/n (2) : it was in my drafts for so long omg

[hopelesshawks]

History of Us Part 36- The Recovery

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Masterlist Kofi

You slowly wake up to a rhythmic beeping sound, feeling as if you’ve been run over by a truck and then it backed back up over you a few times. You blink your eyes open, taking in the white ceiling and fluorescent lighting above you for a moment before shifting to try and sit up. You wince and suck in a breath at the action, squeezing whatever’s in your left hand to help you grit through the pain. Once you’re comfortable the oddity of having something in your hand occurs to you and when you look to see what it is your heart immediately softens. Shoto is passed out asleep, head resting on his arm which sits on your hospital bed, his other hand holding yours. As you look past him you notice Kirishima and Bakugo passed out in chairs nearby. A nurse walks in and smiles when she sees you awake and notices your gaze. “They’ve been here since you were admitted. A couple of nurses tried to kick them out when visiting hours ended the first night but they barricaded themselves in. After that we just decided to let them stay,” she explains. “The first night? How long have I been here?” you ask. “About a week,” the nurse responds and you push out a shaky and disbelieving breath. You can’t remember the last time you had to go to the hospital instead of just healing yourself, let alone having to stay multiple nights. “You should get some rest, your body needs time to recover. Plus, it’s late,” the nurse assures you as she checks over your chart and vitals. “I’ll let the doctors know you woke up and in the morning we can talk you through everything ok?” “Ok.” “Good. Sleep well Eclipsa.” Something about hearing a civilian use your hero name affectionately lights something warm in your chest. With that feeling and the knowledge that Shoto and your friends are right by your side, you drift back to sleep content.

When you next wake up it’s to Kirishima and Todoroki watching you eagerly from the side of the bed while Bakugo hangs back, as if he’s any more subtle than the other two just because he’s slightly further away. “Damn, you guys are so obsessed with me,” you joke and immediately Shoto and Kirishima are launching themselves into your hospital bed to pull you into an embrace. Your still sore body protests a bit but you can’t bring yourself to complain. Bakugo continues to hover nearby until you notice he still hasn’t joined. “Are you getting in on this or what asshole?” you ask. He scoffs. “Well if you want me in there so bad then fine dumbass,” he quips before climbing into your hospital bed much more delicately than Shoto and Kirishima had, careful not to disturb your injuries. It isn’t long afterwards that the attending nurse walks in, a middle aged woman in her 40s most likely, and immediately she yells at the boys to get off the bed and begins scolding them for potentially aggravating your injuries. “I understand you missed your friend but she is still healing! For Christ sake get down!” she admonishes until all of the boys are somewhat sheepishly back in their own seats. You can’t help but laugh at Kiri’s kicked puppy look and it only gets worse when you see the disgruntled looks on Bakugo and Shoto’s faces as well. You laugh harder than you have in a long time, so hard your stomach and still healing ribs ache with it, but you relish in the feeling. By the time you stop you notice that you’re glowing again, which causes the nurse to give an amused huff. “Well I’m glad your healing factor is finally kicking in, that should speed up your recovery considerably,” she sighs before whirling back on the boys to say, “but so help me god if I come back in here to find you boys smothering her again I will kick all your asses, quirks be damned!” The boys all mumble “yes ma’am,” with Shoto and Bakugo’s sounding far more resentful than Kiri’s. It’s funny how alike the two of them can be.

The nurse leaves the room after doing a quick check of your vitals to go inform the doctor that your quirk has finally kicked in when yet another visitor arrives. Your mother is panting by the time she gets to your room, having sprinted from the other wing of the hospital where she’s been working her shift. “Oh my sweet baby,” she coos before rushing to your bed side to caress your cheeks in her hands. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, God I was so worried,” she admonishes lightly. “Sorry Mom,” you reply with a sheepish smile. She gives you a soft smile in return, relieved that you’re safe and sound again. “Well Shoto I know but are you going to finally introduce me to your other two watch dogs?” she asks teasingly and you can’t help but to laugh again as you introduce her to Bakugo and Kirishima properly. It’s nice, the four of you talking and laughing, and you can tell that she’s happy to see you finally have friends. As day turns to night and visiting hours end, your guests are shooed out, although your mom does pull some strings to ensure Shoto can spend the night again. “No funny business you two, (y/n)’s still healing,” your mom says with a wink. Shoto’s face goes bright red as you groan out a horrified “Mom!!!” before collapsing back against the hospital bed and covering your face with a pillow. When Shoto lifts the pillow from your face, cheeks still tinted slightly red, and peers down at you with earnest eyes as he asks if it’s ok to join you, you can’t help but melt and nod. He carefully climbs in alongside you and the moment he’s settled you curl into his arms, your head resting on his chest. A warm contentment fills you as you snuggle up against him, the scent of him filling your nose and the steady rise and fall of his chest instantly lulling you to sleep.

The next day the doctor explains that, while your quirk activating is certainly helping matters, the extreme overuse of your right side had done a number on your body and the bulk of your healing was likely going to undoing that damage so you’d need to stay in the hospital for a little bit longer so they could monitor you. You can tell there’s something he’s not saying but you don’t press the issue. If the doctor doesn’t think you need to know it then it’s probably for the best you don’t. At least for now while you’re still feeling decently tired. Your mother swings by again, it’s kind of funny seeing how enamored she is with Shoto and his dedication to staying in the hospital with you until your release. Her endless praise makes him blush and it occurs to you then that he may have assumed your mother would hate him as much as you used to. It’s a sad thought but it makes you all the more appreciative to be where you are now. Eventually she too has to leave to resume her shift, but your next guest is by far the most surprising.

Endeavor walks into the room looking the most awkward you’ve ever seen him. Immediately Shoto stands in front of your hospital bed protectively. “If you’re here to try to arrest her I swear-“ Shoto starts but you put a hand on his shoulder and cut him off. “I don’t think that’s what he’s here for,” you assure him. He clearly still doesn’t trust his father but he does sit back down on the bed, even as he continues to glare at Endeavor. Endeavor sighs at his son’s behavior but it doesn’t sound disapproving it just sounds resigned. You can’t help your budding curiosity as you watch the hero shift awkwardly as he tries to find where to begin. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen the man look and it���s still odd seeing him without flaming facial hair. Finally he clears his throat and then bows lowly to you. You and Shoto both seem stunned at the gesture. “I owe you an apology (y/n) not just for my recent conduct but my conduct in the past as well,” he states. You and Shoto exchange a look but he makes it clear he’s just as lost as you are. “Oook?” you reply hesitantly. “It was unfair of me to blame you for the sins of your father. I should know better than anyone how unfair that is, it’s the very concern I had for Shoto when my own misdeeds were exposed,” Enji elaborates. “You really don’t have to bow and I get why you were so hesitant even if it was unfair,” you shrug but he shakes his head, rejecting your dismissal. “No. You saved my life, in spite of the way I’ve treated you, and maybe had I been better to you you wouldn’t have felt you had to take on your father alone and we could’ve coordinated our efforts with you and saved a lot of lives and prevented a lot of damage,” Enji continues before finally standing back up. “I once promised Shoto I’d try to be a hero he could be proud of. I’ve failed in that recently. I hope now to be a hero you both can be proud of and to right the rest of my wrongs. If you need anything just let me know,” he finishes. You stare blinking at him for several moments as you process his words. You’ve no intention of just forgiving and forgetting immediately but there’s no doubt in your mind his apology is at the very least sincere. “I, uh, appreciate your apology I guess,” you reply. It’s not much but it seems to be more than he expected because he bows to you again. “By the way, when you’re finally released from the hospital, Rei and I, uhm, we were thinking you and your mother could come by for dinner,” he offers sheepishly. “We’d love that.” “Great. I’ll see you then.” With his mission apparently fulfilled, Enji nods to you and Shoto before making his leave. “That was weird,” you note once he’s gone. “Yea,” Shoto confirms. “Your dad is kinda super fucking awkward when he’s not trying to be intimidating,” you note, causing Shoto to snort. “You can say that again. Now you know what I’ve been dealing with the past two years,” Shoto scoffs. “He’s trying though,” you note and to that Shoto nods. “He’s trying,” he confirms.

You reach out and gently grasp hold of Shoto’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. He turns to look at you, eyes searching yours. You notice his gaze linger on your right eye for a moment but before you can ask him about it he leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. It lasts only a second before he draws back a bit, still so wonderfully close as he asks, “Is this ok?” “It’s perfect,” you tell him before sealing your lips back together.

A/N: After last chapter was so intense (and that one angsty ask I got lmao) this is just allllll fluff

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso @sunaispretty @shot0stea @todoplusultra @oliviasslut @lapysllazuly @immah0e4fictionalmen @cinnamonruts @koifishq

[nalgenewhore]

kinda

elide x lorcan, fake dating au, word count: 2819

The drink in her hand was running low, so Elide politely excused herself from the circle of Lorcan’s friends that she’d been talking to and made her way to the kitchen. 

Her hips moved unconsciously to the music as she poured cranberry juice and vodka into her plastic cup. It wasn’t her favourite drink, but it was simple and the easiest to tell if someone had messed with it somehow. 

A warm, large hand slid across her lower back. At the first touch, Elide tensed, but as her body recognised it, she relaxed back into the hulking frame of her boyfriend. Fake boyfriend. “Hey,” she said, silently cursing herself. 

It had started to become more and more easy to mess up and forget her and Lorcan’s arrangement lately. Her subconscious didn’t want to think any of it was fictional. 

“Hey,” Lorcan replied, reaching over her to steal her drink and sip it for himself. Elide turned to scowl up at him. He made a face at the amount of spirits in her drink, “Christ, Lochan, how fucked up do you want to get tonight?” 

“Stop stealing my drinks,” she avoided the question, snatching the cup back and draining half of it. 

Lorcan smirked and cornered her against the counter, his body blocking her in. “And what are you gonna do about it,” he lowered his head, his full lips ghosting over her collarbone, “princess?” 

Her breath hitched and Elide crossed her arms over her chest, as if it would hide the blush that bloomed across her cleavage and throat. “You’re a pig.” 

“Mmm, you love me like that,” Lorcan murmured, pressed heated kisses up her throat and jaw. Just before he got to her lips - sticky and shimmery with iridescent gloss that had him wanting to act up - Lorcan paused. He lovingly cupped the sides of her neck and stroked his thumbs over her jaw, “You wanna get out of here? I’m kinda over it.” 

Elide nodded, flashing him a soft smile, “Yeah, of course.” She shoved him away to turn, dumping her drink down the sink and rinsing out her cup before tossing it in the recycling bin. Without turning around, she asked him, “Are you gonna drop me off at my place or…” 

“I was thinking you could stay with me tonight, but if you want, I can drop you off at home.” Lorcan tried for nonchalance and the only reason it worked was because Elide was trying to tame the wild beating of her heart. 

She turned back to him, smiling brightly at him, “That sounds good. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

Yet another smirk tugged at his lips and Lorcan brushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, “Horror movie marathon?” 

“Yep!” He laughed as Elide laced her fingers through his and tugged him behind her through the house. They called out good-byes to their friends on their way and when they got outside, Lorcan pulled Elide back against him. “What are you– oof!” 

The sound was ripped from Elide’s throat as Lorcan slung her over his shoulder like she was nothing and continued walking. “Lorcan,” she wiggled over his broad shoulder, pummeling his back with ineffectual blows, “put me down!” 

The man just banded his arm across the backs of her thighs, “Stop moving, you’re gonna fall.” Laughter laced through his words and Elide narrowed her eyes at his back. 

With a new resolve, Elide squirmed more erratically than she had before and Lorcan swore, “Stop it, I don’t want to drop you.” 

Elide smirked and jabbed him in the side, “That’s what you get for telling me what to do.” 

Lorcan unceremoniously dropped her from his shoulder. He still had the grace to make sure she wouldn’t tumble and his hands hovered over her waist as she landed on her feet. “You’re so fucking stubborn, Lochan.” 

While he was busy shaking his head at her, with fake ire in his eyes, Elide dug her hand into his pocket and pulled out his keys. She darted around him to the driver’s seat and hopped in, “You love me like that.” 

Lorcan couldn’t argue with her and reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat. 

When they got to his apartment, Elide disappeared into the bathroom. Lorcan had kept his hand on her thigh the entire ride, making innocent circles with his thumb over the material of her skintight jeans. Damn him. 

He had no idea what he was doing to her and it was so fucking unfair. She wanted to be mad at him, but it wasn’t Lorcan’s fault that she had fallen in love with him. He had explicitly stated that they were dating to make his ex, Maeve, jealous. He’d even laughed, telling her how much of a joke it was when Rowan warned him not to in case he caught feelings. 

She blew out a long breath, trying not to cry as she washed her face. Elide had spent enough nights at Lorcan’s apartment to have a small collection of her skin care and other things. Lorcan had been the one to bring it up, to sell the ruse a little more if Maeve ever decided to drop by unannounced, which wasn’t unlike her.  

Every time she’d done it, Elide had had the utter pleasure of greeting her. Usually, when Maeve buzzed up, they would quickly mess Elide’s hair up and Lorcan would toss her whichever shirt he was wearing. 

Maeve’s eyes always flashed dangerously when Elide opened the door, but she had never attempted anything other than a cold asking of Lorcan’s whereabouts. Elide got such joy out of telling Maeve he was still in bed or waiting for her in the shower. 

Elide rubbed her eyes as she slipped into Lorcan’s bedroom, making a beeline to his closet. She made to strip when someone cleared their throat from behind her and she turned, spotting Lorcan lounging on his bed with his laptop on his lap. “Oh. I didn’t know you were in here.” 

“Oh,” he purred, dragging his eyes down her body and up again, “don’t let me stop you, princess.” 

She snatched her favourite t-shirt of his and hissed, “You’re such a pig, Lorcan.” Elide marched back into his bathroom as he laughed, looking far too pleased with himself. 

When she walked back out, her legs bare beneath his shirt, whatever he was going to say died on his tongue. Elide smirked and cocked her hip to the side, “My eyes are up here, Lorcan.” 

He swallowed and flicked his eyes to the side, shifting in bed, “Whatever. Do you want to pick what we’re watching?” 

Elide put her clothes on his dresser and climbed into bed beside him. The moment she sunk into the mattress and pillow, her eyelids drooped. She pointed randomly, “That one.” 

Lorcan chuckled and pulled her into his side, “You tired, babe?” 

She hummed, turning her face into his chest, “Yes. Sleepy.” Elide lifted her head to rest it against his shoulder. “We should watch The Nightmare Before Christmas.” 

“That’s not a horror movie. That’s a Christmas movie.”

“Yes it is and no it’s not,” she murmured softly, completely melted into his side. “It’s not nice to argue with your girlfriend.” 

“I would never argue with you, princess,” Lorcan replied, gently combing his fingers through Elide’s long hair and scratching her scalp with his nails. 

She hummed again, moaning softly as he did it again. “Do that again,” Elide whispered, her eyes falling shut. It seemed like too much effort to open them up again.

“You falling asleep on me, El?” 

“Mmmm… yeah.” 

Lorcan laughed quietly, leaning down to kiss the top of her head, “Go to sleep. It’s ok.” 

“Ok,” Elide whispered, her hand curling into a fist over his heart. “You’ll stay with me, right?” 

“For as long as you want,” he promised. 

Without a care in the world, Elide told him, “I want you forever and ever. ‘m never lettin’ you go.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The next morning, Elide woke up sprawled across Lorcan’s bed. She sat up groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Lor? Where are you?” 

She heard Lorcan’s deep laugh from the other room, “Making breakfast, princess. Stay there, I’ll be back quick.” 

“With tea?” 

He scoffed, “Of course. I’m not brave enough to face Elide Lochan without her morning tea.” Footsteps approached his bedroom and a couple seconds later the door opened. 

Lorcan leaned against the doorframe, crossing his tattooed arms over his equally tattooed chest, “Morning, darling. How’d you sleep?” His dark eyes glittered with delight at her messy hair. 

Elide rolled her eyes and brushed it back, “I slept very well.” She smoothed her hands over the duvet and fell back onto the pillows. “Come back in bed with me. Be lazy.” 

He laughed, shaking his head, “You know I have work, El. And so do you.” 

“That’s boring.” 

“You’re boring.” 

“You’re boring.” 

“No, you’re boring.” 

“Uh-uh, you are boring.” 

“No way, I could never be—“ 

Someone knocked on his front door and their stupid bickering was put on pause. Lorcan frowned as he looked over his shoulder, “I’ll get that. You,” he pointed at her, “stay right there.” 

Elide smiled and stretched her arms above her head, sighing softly. She rolled over onto her stomach and buried herself deeper into the duvets and pillows. 

She heard Lorcan open the door and hushed voices began to speak. She figured it was a delivery person or maybe his landlord. 

Elide attempted to fall back asleep, but without Lorcan next to her, any effort was futile. Five minutes later, he hadn’t returned to her and Elide was curious. 

She slipped out of bed, smoothing her hair back. Elide padded through the silent apartment to Lorcan’s front door. 

The moment she turned into the hallway, her whole world shattered at her feet. 

There was Lorcan. And Maeve. His hands were on her slim waist and she had her fingers tangled in his hair. They kissed like it was second nature, and Elide supposed it was. 

She must’ve made some noise, some pathetic little gasp, because Maeve pulled away and flashed Elide a smug grin over Lorcan’s shoulder. The elegant, lean woman hardly had to lift onto her tiptoes. “Oh, Elide. I didn’t know you would be here.” 

Lorcan spun, his eyes wide, “Princess.” 

“Oh, don’t mind me, please,” Elide said, trying to stop the tears in her eyes. “I just… crashed here after the party last night.” She let out a strangled laugh, waving her hands, “It’s really, really nothing.” 

Maeve smirked and Elide couldn’t stand it anymore, so before Lorcan could say one more thing, maybe even thank her, Elide walked into his room again to pull on the leggings she had forgotten last week. 

As she gathered her things, Lorcan ran in, his eyes wild, “El, please, don’t leave. I can ex- I want to explain, please.” 

“Oh my gods, Lorcan, don’t worry,” Elide said, laughing a hollow laugh. Pain echoed in her chest and it hurt to swallow, “It’s fine. I, um, I guess I just caught feelings, yeah? It’s not your fault at all. I just- have fun with… her.” 

She pushed Lorcan out of the way and left quickly, ignoring the triumphant gleam in Maeve’s eyes. In the elevator, she dug her phone out and called Aelin. The tears spilled down her cheeks when Rowan picked up, his voice scratchy with sleep, “Ellie, it’s Ro. Ae’s still asleep.” 

“Um, that’s- that’s fine. I just need someone to pick me up,” she tried not to let him hear her crying. “I’m at Lorcan’s.” 

He paused, speaking away from the speaker as Aelin’s sleepy voice was heard, muffled. “I’ll be there in five.” 

Elide hung up and put her phone in her bag. She let her head fall back against the elevator wall and cried softly, cursing herself for her stupidity. 

She should’ve never told him she would do it. She should’ve told him to find another person, to find another way to make Maeve jealous. 

When she got outside, the air was bitingly cold and nipped at her face. Elide tucked her chin into her chest, trying to conserve whatever heat she could. 

As she waited, nobody came after her. Lorcan certainly didn’t and Elide’s mind was attacked with flashing images of him in bed with Maeve. She cringed, closing her eyes against them. 

Soon enough, Rowan pulled up in front of her and reached across the seat to open the passenger door for her, “Hey, Ellie. Hop in, it’s freezing.” Elide mutely climbed into his truck and pulled the door shut. “What happened?” 

“Um, M-Maeve came by and… guess we don’t need to fake it anymore,” she said, shrugging her shoulder up. “Can you drop me off at home, please? I don’t really want to see anyone.” 

Rowan nodded as he pulled away from the curb, his face set in a stoney frown, “Of course.” He didn’t make a single comment about the unceasing stream of tears down her cheeks. Elide looked down at her lap, sniffling slightly. 

“Why did I say yes, Ro. Why did I tell him I’d do it?” 

He sighed deeply, shaking his head, “I don’t think I need to tell you why, El.” 

“Yeah,” Elide whispered. “I know.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide moved through the motions of getting ready for bed. She was numb as she filled her kettle and placed it on the stove. 

She got her favourite mug down and scooped chamomile tea into her metal tea strainer-ball thing. Elide dropped it into the mug and waited for the water to boil. 

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. For the entire day, she had ignored her phone. Lorcan had tried calling her. Aelin, Rowan, Vaughan, and Fenrys, too.

Nehemia had dropped by during her lunch break to bring her food and even braided her hair back. She’d left after a kiss on the forehead and a promise for breakfast the next day. 

The kettle boiled just as someone knocked on the door. “One second,” she called out, her voice hoarse. Elide poured the water in and put the kettle off to the side. 

Elide walked over to the door and didn’t bother checking through the peephole before she opened it. The moment she saw who was standing there, Elide regretted not looking. “Lorcan, you don’t need to say sorry or explain,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I just- I can’t see you for a while. I need space to stop–” 

“Princess,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Please. I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me, I- please. I don’t want to be with Mae- with her.” 

Tears sprung in her eyes and Elide threw her hands up, “I can’t keep track, Lorcan! You don’t want to be with Maeve, you’re in a fake relationship with me, you–” she was cut off by Lorcan’s lips on hers. 

“None of it was fake, Elide,” he whispered, his words murmured against her lips. He cupped her face like she was precious, like she would disappear right before him. He kissed her harder, deeper, “Not a single fucking second was fake for me.” Lorcan pulled away, his eyes desperately searching hers in fear. “Was it fake for you?” 

Elide swallowed, her hands lifting to grip the front of his shirt. She shook her head, the tips of their noses brushing together, “Gods, no. None of it.” 

He smiled then, pulling her closer to kiss her again, “Good, ‘cause I’m kinda in love with you.” Her breath hitched in her throat and Elide had to  pull back, her eyes wide. Lorcan laughed softly at her stupefied expression and tugged at the end of her braid, “Can I come in now?” 

She nodded dumbly and blinked slowly, “Yeah- you- you’re in love with me?” Elide stepped back to let him in. Lorcan was still wearing a smile as he closed the door behind them. 

“Yeah.” He stepped closer to her, uneasily sliding an arm around her waist. Elide rested her hands on his chest, fiddling with the worn collar of his t-shirt. Lorcan gripped her chin and tilted it up, “Is that ok?” 

“That you’re in love with me?” she asked, smirking up at him with her eyebrow arched in challenge.

“Well,” Lorcan drawled, kissing her cheek softly, “kinda.” 

Elide laughed, hitting his chest with her fist, “You’re such a prick!” She gripped his collar and pulled him down to kiss him again, “You’re so lucky I’m in love with you.” 

Without any effort on her part, Lorcan gripped the backs of her thighs and picked her up. Her legs locked around his waist like second nature. “You’re in love with me?” 

“Yeah, well,” Elide whispered, running her hands up his shoulders. She slid her fingers into his hair, kissing him deeply when he smiled, just to taste his joy, “Kinda.”

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse  @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed​ @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt

[prodbyteez]

cjh. lacuna [f]

(n.) - a blank space; a missing part

word count; 1086

fem. reader

i don’t give a damn if it takes you all night. i gave you three days worth of extensions to finish this proposal and if i don’t see it in my email by the time you clock out i will fire you and that’s a promise.

y-yes mr. choi, i’m..i will get it done by tonight don’t worry i’m sorry

jongho had never seen one of his employees run out of his office so fast...wait, no, he has.

being CEO of a big time music company was never a career choice that popped into his head, but after 20 years of being an idol, it seemed only fitting that ateez’s maknae on top would become the CEO of his very own music company. he couldn’t complain though. he enjoyed being able to dress up nice for work everyday and use his strength not just to break fruit in half. he made sure to make it a point that he had the grip strength to crush someone’s hand every time he ended a meeting with a seemingly lazy employee. 

jongho sat back down in his leather chair rubbing his temples with both hands. he didn’t like threatening his employees, but there’s a fine line between work and play. an extremely thin line. it was common for him to hear things while passing the halls of the building saying he was scary or too strict or if he wasn’t such a prick then maybe i could find him attractive, but yet they were always quick to get the work done when he would make comments under his breath about who to fire next. 

today was no exception. there was a proposal for a new group to be debuting under his label, but there was no album concept, no group concept, and no debut song picked out for this group that the public was eagerly waiting for. some people would say he was unfair about the proposal’s due date, but two weeks is definitely more than enough time. if you put in the work at least. 

it took everything in jongho not to burst vein at how his employees were treating this debut. opening his eyes and peering at the red numbers on his desk clock, he decided to call it quits for the day. 10:00 pm...earlier than usual. grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, he leaves the room making sure to stop by the secretary’s desk before heading to the elevator. 

if mr. lee doesn’t submit his proposal on my desk by tomorrow morning, be sure to tell him not to come into work tomorrow

the secretary can only give a tight-lipped smile back.

yes mr. choi

thank you

one of the only upsides to jongho’s job was that he was able to buy a rooftop condo with his money. it had a gorgeous view of the city, allowed him to wake up 10 minutes before work started, and housed 2 of the most beautiful girls in his life. 

before he could even walk out of the elevator he could hear the soft pitter patter of footsteps and the trail of water left by wet hair.

APPA! YOU’RE HOME!!!

that sound. jongho had many favorite songs, but his daughter’s voice surpassed them all. squatting down with open arms, he waited for the soft impact of his 4 year old daughter’s body to hit his chest.

appa’s home princess! where’s mommy?

kitchen! i wanted dino nuggies!

is it possible for a heart to grow bigger? the grinch did it. jongho picked up the small human in his arms and walked towards the kitchen.

dino nuggies this late at night? mmm...is this what you and mommy do when i’m not home?

she shook her head rapidly.

mm mm. mommy reads me a story and then she kisses me goodnight.

ah i see...mommy gives the best kisses right?

her tiny arms spread as far as they could reach almost hitting jongho in the face, the best in the whole wide world!

jongho walks into the kitchen to see you taking the dinosaur chicken nuggets out of the toaster oven, blowing on the tips of your fingers to cool them off. he begins to laugh letting his daughter run over to you.

MOMMY! are the dino nuggies done?

you look back almost dropping the last chicken nugget as your daughter’s voice scares you. 

OHMYGOSH, sweetie you almost made me drop your dino nuggie

i’m sorry mommy. appa’s home too!! can we eat dino nuggies with appa?

you place the last nugget on the plate as you take them to the kitchen island, your daughter trailing next to you. 

well i don’t see why not. but i think your appa has to give mommy a kiss first before he can eat with us? what do you think?

jongho lifts your daughter into her booster seat as you lean your head on one arm staring at him. he stares at you back with an eyebrow raised. he feels his daughter tug on his arm rapidly.

appa appa mommy says you kiss her or no dino nuggies. kiss mommy so we can eat dino nuggies please

he gives his daughter a look before walking around the counter to place a hand on your waist, leaning in and hovering over your lips smiling.

hey baby

hey

you smile back at him before kissing him softly. it never seems to get old. though you’ve been married for 7 years, kissing him felt the same as when you met him when you were 25. 

jongho pulls back a little just to place a kiss on your nose to which you scrunch your face.

you both turn your head when you hear your daughter start to clap.

DINO NUGGIES!!!

you smile as you both dig in while jongho watches the both of you. he wishes he never had to leave either of you. every time his day starts to take little pieces of his patience and sanity away, you two are always there to fill him up with the perfect amount of love again. your names are permanently etched on the blank line titled my heart belongs to ______

APPA! EAT!

yeah appa, eat

you smile as you hold a nugget towards him. 

these were the moments where he wishes that he could write all the reasons why his heart belonged to you two on every blank canvas in the world. 

that should be a lyric for his new group’s debut.

A/N: i got this prompt from @cuddlyunho! enjoy lolol it’s kinda long i’m sorry

[wri0thesley]

Smutty but also fluffy and cute scenario of pesci and his afab s/o having their first time together? (and maybe with some hints of prosciutto being jealous of pesci's s/o?)

first time - pesci x fem reader (3k)

NSFW. 18+ only ! afab reader, fem pronouns. sweet vanilla PIV sex; brief mentions/allusions to cheating. 

You’d always thought, when the time came, that you’d be the nervous one. That you’d be the one with the bitten lip and the fluttering hands, falling over yourself to laugh and stammer and try and take away some of the awkwardness in the air. You’d left it a while, after all - your friends and your peers would tell you of their exploits and you’d raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes and gasp at the appropriate moments and kept your secret held close to your chest. It felt silly, saying it out loud; ‘I’m just waiting for the right person’. Eventually, you’d realised that the right person wasn’t going to come. You’d made your peace with it. You’d looked forward to quiet nights in, alone, and tried to ignore the fact that (whilst it was a perfectly good choice that many people were happy with), you didn’t really want to be alone for the rest of your life. 

And then Pesci had walked into your life. 

He might not have been the tall dark and handsome stranger you’d once envisioned, but you couldn’t deny that you wouldn’t change him for all of the world. You look at him and your heart swells; he says you look beautiful tonight and you’re a flushed, blustering mess. Other people might not see him as handsome, but for you . . . you cannot get enough of his mouth, or the broad shoulders, or twisting fingers through his hair. Your first times for everything had been nervous affairs - your first kiss, snatched as he said goodnight to you in front of your door, his cheeks red as he pulled away. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he’d said, stammering, as he looked into your wide eyes. You’d seen him begin to pull into himself - his shoulders drawing in, teeth dangerously close to biting his lip, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes. And instead of letting that happen, you’d taken ahold of his shoulders and kissed him again, scarcely believing in your own courage. 

He’d introduced you to Prosciutto after you’d been nervously dancing around the concept of dating for two months. The severe blond had raised his eyebrows, ice blue eyes flicking up and down your form, before he’d curtly nodded at you and gone about his business. 

“Don’t be worried,” Pesci had said, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. “He’s kinda like that with most people. He saw your picture on my phone and said I’d done a real good job, so . . .” Your poor boyfriend reddens, suddenly aware that perhaps he shouldn’t have shared that tidbit of information, as you felt your own cheeks heat up in response. He probably shouldn’t have shared it - still, the knowledge that Prosciutto felt as though you were at least good-looking helped assuage your fears that he wouldn’t think that you weren’t good enough for his fratello. 

(“He’s not really my brother,” Pesci had fallen over to tell you. “He’s kinda like . . . my mentor, I guess. I-if you were wondering why we don’t look like each other or anythin’, I know he’s a lot handsomer than I am--”. You’d kissed Pesci on the nose, silencing his spluttering, as you’d reassured him that actually, Pesci himself was far more your type anyway.)

You and Pesci go out with Prosciutto sometimes and you notice that he’s . . . off with you. He lingers a little too long beside you, a little too touchy-feely, a little too much treating you like Pesci treats you. He smirks at you and his eyes travel down your body and you blush because you’re not immune to all of his charms - but you realise what it is one day when Pesci is sick and Prosciutto drops by to give you a jacket you left at their place (Pesci shares a house with several of his coworkers; by all accounts his job isn’t well-paying and he has roommates to help keep costs down) and he hovers in your doorway for a fraction too long.

He’s jealous. 

You guess that nobody has ever preferred Pesci over him before. You guess seeing Pesci happy makes him want it for himself - but any good will you have toward him dissipates at the thought that he’s betray someone he cares about for it, and it flees completely as Prosciutto places a hand on your arm and smiles a crooked smile you’re sure has had people falling at his feet in the past. 

“Can’t I come in for a drink before I head back?” He says, his tone slightly lower than usual. His fingers stroke over your wrist. The flush comes unbidden to your face - he’s Prosciutto, after all - but you wave him away and force a smile.

“No, I really have things to do--”

“Cara,” he steps forward even so, toes just brushing the boundary of your home in stylish expensive leather shoes. He smiles at you again, sickly sweet. “Pesci tells me everything, you know. And you and he have been an item long enough that if you wanted to--”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you snap nervously. You do know what he’s getting at. The thought makes it feel like cats are clawing up your insides. Prosciutto continues to smile at you indulgently. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted it,” he says softly. “You’re very pretty, you know . . . I’d be lying if I didn’t say I envied Pesci a little. He doesn’t have to know--”

You’re not proud of slamming the door in his face. You spend the entire night stressed you’re going to get a text from Pesci about how rude you were, encompassing some wild story that Prosciutto’s concocted to make you look like you’re the one at fault in the situation. But nothing is forthcoming. 

Maybe he felt bad about it. You hope he did. 

What it does do, though - the whole situation with Prosciutto - is reaffirm that you love Pesci. Prosciutto’s right in that you’ve been dancing around one area of relationships, but it’s not for lack of attraction to Pesci. God, no. 

It’s fear that you’ll be bad at it, or that Pesci will see something in you he doesn’t like, that you’ll be left tear-stained and alone after something goes wrong. But as Prosciutto had made the insinuation he’d very much like to be invited to your bed, you’d had the realisation that you wanted Pesci. Beyond all reason, you wanted to kiss him and hold him and find yourself under him and drink him in, in every way possible. So the next time you two had a date planned, you asked if perhaps he wouldn’t just like to stay in with you and watch a movie. 

-

You’re both crackling with nerves. Your first attempt to kiss Pesci, after you’ve made it to the bedroom, is broken by your shuddering breath as you look at him from under dark eyelashes. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you tell him, nervous and scared. Pesci’s hands come up to hold your waist, making you feel safe in his embrace. His own smile is nervous, his lip bitten just as much as your own. 

“Neither do I,” he confesses. “So . . . that means we get to find out together, r-right?”

Right. You take a deep breath and kiss him again, and as his teeth gently nip at your bottom lip and you trace the lines of his own lips (his lipstick tastes like watermelon), you feel his hands travel down your back to your shirt. Your gasp is caught in his mouth as fingers gently work under the fabric until he’s touching your bare back, and you push yourself into the kiss. Your own hands go to rest on his shoulders, gently guiding yourself until you’re sat beside him on the bed. 

“I can take this off?” Pesci checks with you, fretting, before he goes any further. You nod and duck your head to hide the way your cheeks are giving you away. 

“Y-yeah,” you breathe. “I’d like that--”

The shirt is gently eased over your head and tossed aside. Pesci’s eyes travel down your body; his gaze lingering longest over your chest. His own cheeks are just as damning evidence as yours. He’d already shrugged off the coat-gilet hybrid he wore when he’d come into the living room,and you’re aware asking him to remove the body suit at this point would be unfair - still, you tug gently on one strap. 

“At least roll it down?” You ask him, voice small. “Just to make me feel less exposed?”

Pesci smiles nervous and earnest at you as he does just that - you see the fear that you won’t like his body reflected from your own eyes into his, and before he can apologise for the light covering of softness you kiss his collarbone. 

“You’re so handsome,” you tell him,” trailing kisses to his clavicle. His breath catches. He is soft - but beneath the layer of softness, you can feel what is unmistakably broad and hard muscle. Despite his appearance, you know that Pesci is strong, and the evidence of that is in how he holds you and how he feels and how effortlessly he holds you against him, pulling you slightly closer so he can unhook your bra. 

That fabric falls from you and though you want to pull yourself in and hide from prying eyes, you make an effort not to - an effort that’s rewarded when Pesci’s eyes darken. One of his hands comes around, cupping the weight of your breast in his hand, thumbs working over your nipple so you bite back a whimper of desire. When he hears the noise he leans in, and - checking it’s alright before he does it - he kisses your nipple, licks at it, until it hardens beneath his continued attention. You moan as he transfers his concentration to the other, fingers gently tangling in his hair. You tug slightly as he brushes the sensitive bud with his teeth, and he moans against you in turn. 

He pulls back from you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed and his mouth slightly open. 

“Should we . . . both?” He asks, and you bite your lip. 

“Maybe . . . together?” You reply, halting. Gratefully, Pesci nods, and for a few moments you busy yourself with jean zips and buttons and the sliding down of fabric of your thighs, peeking at Pesci from on the floor. He peels his bodysuit off his skin - and you’re surprised to see how scarred he is. Emotions well up in your chest. You want to kiss every single scar he has, reassure him of how handsome you think he is, make him sigh and gasp and bend into your touch . . .

And then you see the bulge in his tight underwear and your entire face is suddenly awash in heat. You don’t know what you’d been expecting - but you’re not sure you were expecting that. 

Pesci sees your reaction - you’re expecting him to apologise and worry and pull his clothes back on, but he surprises you by just smiling bashfully. Oh, he knows why you’re responding like that . . . the confidence on him imbues you with some confidence of your own, stoking the flames of your arousal low in your stomach, and you lose your jeans completely. 

“You’re beautiful,” Pesci says, entirely honest, as his eyes drink in the sight of you bare before him. “I can’t believe . . .”

His hands skim over your hips, your breasts, your thighs. 

“Do you wanna help me take them off?” You ask, motioning to the scrap of silk and lace that’s passing as underwear. Hey - this was a special day! You wanted to wear something nice! 

“Yes,” Pesci breathes. His hands are warm on your thighs. You feel the fabric stick to the slick valley between your legs and you know from the way that pesci looks at you and bites his lip, all dark-eyed and desiring, that Pesci feels it too. “For me?” He asks, his tone almost teasing. You nod, embarrassed, at the tent in the front of his underwear. 

“If that’s for me too,” you say, and he grins. 

By degrees he pushes you onto the bed, gently parting your thighs. He looks between your legs for a moment; the glint of light on your slick folds, the way your clit peeks out, swollen, from between plump labia lips. He breathes in, deep and needy. 

He touches you first, coaxing you out with soft strokes, the flicker of his fingertips against that same swollen clit. He’s clearly unsure of what he’s doing - but God, how you love him for seeing your anxiousness and taking charge. God, how you love the little smile he gives when you moan or gasp or your hips buck up helplessly to get him to touch you more. 

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he says, dry-voiced, as he pushes down his own underwear. You bite your lip looking at his cock - thick, flushed, tip ruddy with need. You’d thought you’d be afraid of it - even you, with your limited experience with them, knew that Pesci was packing a sizeable heat - but as it’s revealed to you, and as Pesci bucks his hip against yours so his cock slides slippery against your sex, you find that you’re longing to have him inside of you. 

“I’m the lucky one,” you say, reaching up, winding your arms about his neck, your fingers once more tangling in the green strands. “You’re perfect.”

“No,” Pesci says, smiling. He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, at the same time as you feel the head of his cock gently breach the first few millimetres of your entrance. Your fingers tighten. “You’re perfect.”

He slides himself in slowly, letting you get used to the stretch of him inside you. Every so often, he pauses, letting you take a deep breath, readjust - and as he reaches his hilt, where you two are pressed most thoroughly against one another, he stills entirely. 

“Tell me when I can move, amore,” he breathes, his voice cracked and straining. You can hear the desire for more in his tone - and you’re glad that he, too, wants to fuck you until you can’t walk straight. The stretch of him inside you is slightly uncomfortable, yes - but more than discomfort, your body is crying out for more stimulation. For Pesci to claim you utterly. 

“Please move,” you reply, instead, and as he pulls out with a slick stroke, you pull him into a messy kiss to hide the needy whines that are issuing from your mouth. There’s nothing, for a time, aside from the sound of his skin slapping against yours. The slick noise of your sex welcoming him with every stroke. Yours and Pesci’s heavy breathing, the way your lips press together and go slack as each of you are overwhelmed by sensation. 

He strokes places inside of you that you never knew needed stroking, alights fire where you didn’t realise one could even be aflame. He fits inside you perfectly, and your body knows it. You breathe out soft epithets of how much you love him and how good he feels interspersed with breathy little pleas. A little faster, a little harder--

He’s eager to please, and he responds to every single request by readjusting himself and making sure that you’re as satisfied as you can be. In return, you grind your hips against him and nip at his neck and kiss and run fingers over his skin, delighting every time he sighs or groans inside you. And through it all, a tight ball of heat in the middle of your stomach makes itself known. It tugs and pulls at you, stoked by the feel of his cock against your inner walls, edging at your vision and your throat until you feel like you’re going to fall apart. 

“Pesci,” you whimper against him, sweat-soaked and breathless, “Pesci, I’m going to--”

“Please, cara,” he says, “I want you too, please come for me--”

And you cannot hold it back anymore. The tides wash over you as the ball inside of you explodes into a hundred pieces, pleasure washing over you as you feel yourself pump slick over Pesci’s cock, your inner walls spasming and clenching around his cock like a vice. 

He growls low in the back of his throat, a noise that might have been a swear dropping from his lips, his hips snapping into you in quick succession three, four more times--

He comes inside you, his face more animal than man, and your body gives another low throb of desire at seeing your shy, nervous boyfriend embrace his instinct more. You’ve always known he had the capability to be more than the nervous, stammering wreck that he thinks he is - but seeing it written so clearly on his face . . . You whimper as the rock of his cock and the emptiness when he pulls out of your soaking sex sends a shivering aftershock through your body, your breathing coming in needy little gasps.

Pesci murmurs your name as he lays beside you, settling down, pulling sweat-soaked skin against sweat-soaked skin to whisper his adoration of you into your hair. Exhausted, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and let your eyes drift closed as you settle into the comfortable and familiar embrace of your boyfriend.

“I love you,” you tell him, before you let the sleep claim you. Your thighs feel sticky from both his come and your own; your body feels exhausted from the rocking against him, from the intensity of your orgasm - but above all, you feel happy. Pleased. Relaxed as Pesci settles beside you. You’re glad you waited for him - a thousand lonely nights would be worth one perfect night with Pesci. 

And you feel very glad that you didn’t take up Prosciutto’s offer. 

A little part of you, deep inside, flares with a thought, recalling Prosciutto’s exact words when he’d tried to cajole you into his way of thinking: you hope that Pesci tells him about this too.

[beetlebitchywitch]

-slides u 39 for beetlejuice and runs tf away-

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

(Kayla, sis, ur gonna kill me. Smut warning, obviously)

You know, you really didn’t mean for today to end up like this. 

Oh, who were you kidding. You absolutely wanted the day to end up like this, you just never really expected it to. Beetlejuice spent all goddamn day flirting with you, but you could easily brush it aside knowing it didn’t really mean anything. I mean, he was a demon, right? It was probably just in their nature. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, that’s all. Really, he was just your demon roommate who lived in the attic and sometimes ate your succulents, and that was it. Nothing else at all going on. 

You couldn’t be more in denial if you were drowning in it.

You’d been waiting for the weekend to finally arrive ever since your boss chewed you out on Tuesday afternoon, so when you finally arrived home on Friday, you threw yourself onto your couch with a heavy sigh, sinking into the cushions like you never wanted to leave them. You suspected Beej was in the attic doing…whatever it was he got up to while you were gone, but you knew he’d be joining you shortly. Almost as if he’d read your mind, he popped into the room, wearing…holy shit, just his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his strong forearms covered sparsely with green hair. A blush rose to your cheeks, but you chose to ignore it as you shot him a soft smile. 

“Hey, Beej, what’s going o-?”

“Roll over.”

“What?”

“On your stomach,” he said, as if it was obvious. When you still hesitated, he sighed and snapped his fingers, teleporting you both to your bedroom. Your bed was now home to a large nest of pillows and comforters, accompanied by soft piano music playing from your laptop and a sweet, floral scent hanging in the air.

“What’s all this?” you asked with a curious smile. 

“Well, I knew work really hung you out to dry this week, so I figured I’d surprise you!” he explained with a proud grin. He snapped his fingers, summoning a small bottle of massage oil into his hand. “I made the blanket nest myself. I was gonna give you your massage downstairs, but I figured this’d be more comfortable, hmm?”

And there it was, that lecherous fucking smirk that you wanted to kiss off of his handsome face, damn him. You swallowed roughly at the thought of Beej’s strong hands on you, rubbing the tension away, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he took you…OK, nope, that was the end of that! You forced the thought away as you took his hand, smiling sweetly despite the flirtatious look he was shooting your way.

“That’s really sweet of you, Beej. Thank you for thinking of me,” you said, squeezing his hand. He beamed, his hair nearly glowing with how neon green it turned. You chuckled, shuffling to your dresser to pull out a few things. “Just let me get changed into something more comfy, mmkay?” 

“Sure thing, babes, take all the time you need,” he said, crawling onto your bed and lounging the newly made blanket nest. You shook your head fondly and moved into the bathroom to change into something more appropriate for the…fuck, massage he was about to give you. 

When you emerged from the bathroom, Beetlejuice immediately sat up straighter at the sight of you- you were wearing soft grey shorts that barely covered the tops of your thighs and a pastel pink sports bra, one that barely did anything to hide your breasts from him. His eyes widened and he cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to distract you from him adjusting himself in his pants. Jesus Christ, he felt so pathetic, getting all hot and bothered over some breather in a sports bra…but you’d never been just some breather. You were all soft and warm and kind, always there for him despite the fact that he was a demon, always encouraging him to be better, to love harder, to live fuller…God, he was so fucking gone for you. 

‘Course, you didn’t know that. You had your head so far up your goddamn ass you couldn’t see what was right in front of you. But judging by how you’d been reacting to him since you got home, he figured he might be able to fix that in the next hour. 

So, he rolled off of your blanket nest, trying to hide his arousal by beckoning you forward and instructing you to lie on your tummy, resting your head on your crossed arms. You relaxed into the soft comforters, feeling incredibly at ease as you heard the soft click of the bottle of oil in Beej’s hands.

“Best way for me to do this is to straddle you, princess. That alright?” he asked, looking you over inquisitively. You hummed your consent, suspecting that wonderfully smarmy smirk to have found its home on his face once more as he settled himself down just at the tops of your thighs. If he wasn’t careful, the boner he was sporting would poke you right in the ass, so he made sure to adjust himself so you couldn’t feel it…yet. “Alright, babes, you just relax and let me take care of you.”

If those words didn’t pull a little gasp out of you first, the feeling of Beej’s cool hands spreading massage oil all over you back would’ve made sure of it. God, they were so big, pleasantly cool to the touch and firm as he began kneading your tense muscles. You let your eyes slip shut, falling prey to the absolute magic he was working on the knots in your back with his thumbs. You were so blissed out that you didn’t notice the little moans slipping from your lips every now and then, especially when Beej massaged a particularly tight knot. But oh, did Beetlejuice fucking notice.

You had never looked so hot in your goddamn life. Your skin was so smooth and soft under his hands, and you were making the hottest little noises he’d ever heard a breather make, and it was all because of him.

“Feelin’ a little better, doll?” he asked, his voice embarrassingly strained. 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed happily, gasping sharply as he dug his fingers in a particularly fantastic spot. “Oh fuck that feels good, keep going, right there!”

Jesus fucking Christ he was going to die. He was going to keel over right then and there, and he was already dead! How the fuck could you be allowed to do this kinda thing to him? You were squirming under his hands, clutching the comforters between your white-knuckled fingers, and moaning like he was fucking you into oblivion, all the while his cock was trapped painfully in his pants and it was so goddamn frustrating. He was so close to snapping, just pulling your shorts aside and fucking you until you screamed, but he refused to do that without your consent. No, he needed you to know, he needed you to say yes, and he needed it now. 

“Beej…fuck, you’re amazing,” you moaned. You bit your lower lip and let out a soft, barely there whine, and that was fucking it. Beetlejuice chuckled darkly and leaned forward, his resolve snapping as he hovered over you completely, keeping his lips close to your ear. 

“Are you trying to turn me on, or are you just that oblivious?” he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“What? What are you talking abou-…oh,” you breathed, because now you could feel his cock pressing against your ass. Curious, you shifted against him experimentally, causing Beej to groan into your ear before chuckling darkly. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you want me too,” he crooned, sitting back up to drag his hands down the warm, reddened skin of your back. “Because unlike you, I don’t keep my head firmly up my ass.”

“Hey, that is so unfair!” you retorted, flipping yourself over to glare up at him. “You’re the one who’s constantly flirted with me and never followed through! Was I supposed to just know that that meant something, or did I have to find out when you popped a boner giving me a massage?” 

Of course, you suddenly realize the position you’ve put yourself in when you get a good look at said boner, his hard cock only about a foot away from you face where he was straddling your hips. He tried to hide his smirk when he noticed you staring.

“Did you ever think that’s because I was waiting for you to ask?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you. “That I didn’t want to be the big bad demon preying on some innocent breather? And not just any innocent breather, one I…you know, care about.” He rubbed his hand through his hair shyly. “You’re more than just someone to fuck to me, sweets, you gotta know that.” You hesitated before smiling softly, your heart fluttering incessantly in your chest because you’d been waiting for what seemed like forever for this to happen and frankly, you’re feeling desperate for him. 

“I…I think I know that now, Beej,” you said, running your fingers through his hair before giving an experimental tug and a short grind of your hips against his. He groaned, biting his lower lip as it faded into a deep growl. 

“Be careful with who you’re messing with, doll,” he warned. “You’re probably gonna want to be able to walk out of here by the time I’m done with you.”

“Please, like you could break me that easily,” you countered, pulling him by the hair to press the full length of his body to yours. “Why don’t you show me what you’re made of, hmm?” He barked out a laugh, shaking his head fondly at your eagerness. 

“That’s my girl,” he breathed, soothing the blush of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Oh, your girl, huh?” you laughed, quirking an eyebrow at him. He chuckled darkly, quickly grabbing both of your wrists and pinning your arms above your head, leaning in until your lips were so close to touching.

“Sweetness,” he murmured, his breath puffing out and over your lips. “If you didn’t realize that you’re already mine, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Those words sent heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, pulling a whine from your lips as you finally closed the distance between you and kissed him roughly. He inhaled sharply and pressed his full weight down onto you, holding you firmly in place as he ground his cock into your hip as he kissed you back, sucking your lower lip between his teeth and tugging until you whimpered for him. He pulled away and began attacking your neck, sucking gorgeous marks into your sensitive skin while you whined and struggled against his grip. He held your wrists firmly, not letting you budge a single inch while he laved his tongue over the bruises that were just beginning to form, pulling whimper after whimper from your parted lips. 

“God, I’ve been waiting so damn long for this…” he moaned into your skin, shifting downward and snapping his fingers to remove the offending sports bra that was keeping him from more of your gorgeous body. Your nipples hardened at the exposure to the slightly chilled air, which only made Beetlejuice more excited to play with them. He dove in, sucking one into his mouth and circling it with the tip of his tongue, moaning when you buried your hands in his hair and tugged. He gave the same treatment to the other nipple before sucking bruise after bruise onto your breast, pain and pleasure harmonizing so gloriously that it left you breathless. “Mm, you taste so fucking good, sweets…but I bet you taste even better down here, hmm?”

His hands stroked down your stomach and to the waistband of your shorts, lingering there while his eyes silently asked for your permission. You lifted your hips to make it as easy as possible for him to get your shorts off, because you fucking needed them off now.

“Beej, come on, get ‘em off, please,” you whimpered, frustrated at how slowly he was peeling them and your panties off of you. He merely chuckled, taking his sweet time in sliding them down your legs and off completely.

“Patience, doll,” he cooed, making you grumble with frustration. “We’ve waited this long, what’s the harm in taking our time?”

“Easy for you to say, asshole,” you mumbled. “You probably got some in the last few months.”

“Guess again, angel,” he countered. You expected to see mirth in his eyes, but he simply gazed at you. He was completely serious. 

“You…you didn’t?”

“Not a chance,” he said, rubbing his hands up your thighs to land on your hips. “No one else was worth my time, babes. No one but you.”

Those words hit you like a rock. He waited. The horniest, most lecherous demon you knew waited for you. He could’ve had anyone until you finally got your shit together, but instead he waited months just to be with you. 

You rose up onto your knees and pulled Beetlejuice into a long, languid kiss, pouring every feeling you had into it as you laved your tongue over his lower lip, just hoping and praying that it would show him what he meant to you. He smiled into the kiss, wrapping you up in his arms before lowering you back onto the mattress, settling himself between your spread legs. He pulled away from the kiss to lower himself fully between your legs, drinking in the sight of you, fully exposed and glistening.

“Ohhh, baby,” he groaned, pressing a wet kiss to your inner thigh that trembled under his touch. “You are even more gorgeous than I imagined.”

“Beej, come on, please…” you mumbled, running your fingers through his hair and pleading with your eyes. He smirked up at you, content to watch you struggle not to shove his face into your pussy for a few moments longer.

“You ask me so nicely, babes,” he said, his smile growing toothy and almost sinister. “But I bet I can make you beg.” And with that, he buried his face in your pussy, greedily tasting you to your very core. You threw your head back with a gasp, gripping his hair tightly as he circled your clit with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Your thighs shook as he gripped them and pressed the flat of his tongue against you, letting you grind against his face and chase the pleasure you craved. Having his face in your pussy was enough to make him painfully hard where he was stuck in his pants, so he snapped his fingers to rid himself of his suit and began to stroke his cock in earnest. He moaned against your clit, the vibrations sending stars to blur your vision as you bit your lip to hold back your moans. 

“I thought you tasted good before, sweetness, but down here you’re fucking mouthwatering,” he groaned, letting one finger come up and trace your entrance. “You want more, sweetheart, hmm? Better let me fuckin’ hear it.” 

“Yes,” you moaned, tugging at his hair to try and force him back between your legs. “I want you, Beej, please just fucking take me.” At this, you heard a deep laugh rumble in his chest.

“Believe me, doll, I plan on it,” he said, slowly plunging his middle finger inside you as he went back to licking intermittently at your clit. You immediately clenched around his finger, moaning as he began to curl it in just the right way, your fists absolutely white-knuckled in the blankets as he practically dragged the pleasure out of you. He quickly added a second finger, fucking them in and out and trying not to come untouched from the thought of that wet heat practically choking his cock. “Tell me what you want, Y/N. Say it and I’ll give it to you.”

“Beetlejuice, please!” you cried out. He tutted, opting to finger you harder, pulling near screams out of your throat, which was quickly growing sore. 

“Come on, baby, I know you can. Just tell me what you need. Beg for it like a good little girl, and if you do it extra pretty, I’ll let you cum.”

You growled in frustration, seething at the shit-eating grin he was shooting you without even once letting up on the unrelenting pace of his fingers. 

“I-ah, ah- want you to fuck me, Beetlejuicccccceshit, oh fuck, want your cock in me so bad, please God I wanna cum, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna cum, please!” 

“Mm, good girl. Cum,” he commanded, leaning down to flick your clit with the tip of his tongue until you screamed, clenching tightly around his fingers as you came. He fingered you through it, only pulling his fingers out of you once you’d fully come down, panting heavily with a thin sheen of sweat making your skin glow in the light your lamp gave off. Beetlejuice grinned up at you from between your legs, lips glistening with your cum and his eyes practically heart-shaped.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he gushed, sliding up the bed until you were face to face. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, gazing at you so intently that you nearly wanted to shy away from the intensity of it all. “Knew you’d look so pretty when you cum, baby, but I bet you’ll be drop dead gorgeous when you cum around my cock,” he groaned, kissing you intensely. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his lips, feeling him grind his cock against your thigh as he probed your mouth with his tongue. He pulled away, panting harshly against your skin. “One more time, baby. What do you want?”

“Want you to fuck me, BJ,” you murmured, pressing one more kiss to his lips. “Waited so long for you, I just…I need you…” He smiled against your lips, kissing you sweetly before positioning himself at your entrance.

“Alright, baby, we’re gonna take this nice and slow, ok?” he asked. “Keep those eyes on me, want you to watch me while I fuck you, got it?” You nodded, inhaling sharply as he began to enter you. He wasn’t incredibly long, but God was he thick, his girth stretching you beautifully as he pushed into you. Beej groaned against your lips, watching you intently for any signs of pain as he bottomed out, his hips pressed firmly against yours. 

“Oh fuck yeah, that’s the stuff, sweetness,” he groaned, taking in the intoxicating feeling of your pussy clenching around him, adjusting so beautifully to his girth. “Shit, you’re taking me so well, baby. How you feelin’? Any pain?”

“Mm-mm,” you hummed, shaking your head. You rolled your hips experimentally, gasping at the feeling of him moving inside of you. “Beej, just…don’t hold back, alright? I told you, you can’t break me that easily. Just…make me yours.” That last bit made him growl almost involuntarily, grabbing at your hips impatiently and starting to thrust, picking up speed the louder you moan. He holds you so close, pressing your foreheads together so he can watch you as you fall apart for him. 

“Say it again, baby girl,” he murmured, kissing across her cheek to nibble at her ear. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Beej, fuck, I-I need more, harder,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist. He speeds up with a deep growl, re-angling himself in the most perfect way, the head of his cock dragging beautifully against your G spot that sends stars to cloud your vision once more. You’re not sure you remembered your name, but frankly, it felt unimportant compared to the bliss you sunk into with each and every thrust of his cock inside of you. 

“Again, baby, come on,” he said, egging you on. 

“I’m yours!”

“Again!” 

“Yours! Fuck, shit, you feel so fucking good, God I love you!”

That was it. Whatever little restraint he had splintered as he pulled you tightly against him, rutting into you with everything he had. He’d never let you go again, never let you leave his arms; he’d die holding you, die fucking you, die loving you, if he could. He moaned louder, thrusted harder, kissed fiercer, and all of it was setting you ablaze from the inside out. You curled yourself into his arms as firmly as you could, wanting him around you, in you, wanting him and only him because you were his, and in that moment, he was all you needed. Your pleasure seemed to seep out of every pore in your skin, your voice hoarse from crying out as he littered you with kisses and bite marks, undeniable claims on every inch of skin he could find. Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Love you too, babes, God, I love you so goddamn much I can’t breathe, and this tight little pussy, mmph, fucking milking me, huh? You’re gonna make me cum, sweets. Is that what you want, you want me to fill you up? Make you mine? Cum with me, baby, wanna watch you cum around my fucking cock-”

You cut him off with a choked off wail, clenching around him as tightly as you could as wave after wave of pleasure rushed over you, threatening to drown you, to bury you beneath a deep abyss, but you simply wouldn’t mind. You felt him spill into you, groaning into your collarbone as his whole body trembled around you. You were floating, you were sinking, you were living, you were dying, and it was everything that you needed and more, infinitely more. You let your eyes slide shut as you came down, feeling Beetlejuice maneuvering you both into a more comfortable position. When you finally opened your eyes again, you were pressed against his chest, your chin resting comfortably right at the top of his pec. 

“Welcome back, beautiful,” he said with a grin, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Was afraid I’d knocked you clean out. How are you feelin’?”

“Mm, fantastic,” you said hoarsely, stretching your arms a bit before settling firmly into his side. “So, was that everything you’d been waiting for?” 

With a warm chuckle, he pulled you close, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead as you let your eyes slide shut again, your exhaustion taking you over.

“Everything, love,” he murmured, “and more.” 

(THIS BECAME 9 PAGES LONG. IT’S ALMOST FINALS WEEK. I’M DUMB BUT I LOVE THIS SO WHATEVER)

@scribblepigeon @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo @sapphic-florals @monsterlovinghours @the-ineffable-prince-of-hells @beetlebop

tagging all y’all because I CAN AND I LOVE YOU ok bye

[ducktales-wco-oo]

✩ { @calvinsmuses​ } ✩ - Continued from ★

{ ☆ } Heard some rumors... At the sound of that, Jayden can feel their heart stall in their chest, stomach twisting in knots and feathers ruffling at the thoughts of what those ‘rumors’ could be. As if they don’t already have a pretty damn good idea. He doesn’t doubt stories were murmured by that pigheaded and pig-mannered JERK; jostling Jayden around like he was nothing more than a cheap toy for his entertainment, excusing it with the reasoning that Jayden had ‘started this’, hadn’t seemed so ‘uncomfortable’ at the start of things— reasons that, as much as they hate to admit it, they don’t entirely disagree with. Not at all, actually.

It was kinda their fault... Somewhat. Mostly.

Thankfully this line of thinking is interrupted, Jayden blinking quizzically when they are abruptly torn from their thoughts, awkwardly loosening the pale-knuckled grip on the strap of their satchel and trying to refocus on what Carroll is saying. Oh... So the rumors aren’t as bad as they thought. Hopefully. They wouldn’t put it past Carroll to be taking the tactful route though. Still, Jayden can’t linger on that for too long, Carroll’s rushed words washing over them like a forceful wave. Bringing with it a storm of feelings they can’t even begin to sort through.

Apparently Carroll only played some tongue twister with that theatre tart... which Jayden should feel happy about. But it only makes them feel worse about how THEY decided to handle it. Going way further than they needed to— not even entirely out of a desire to make Carroll jealous, if they’re being honest —only to crash and burn way more than Carroll did. Hell, looks like Carroll didn’t even get scorched by the fun they decided to have while not tethered to Jayden. And now that it wasn’t as good as he wanted it to be, he wants them to ‘try again’. Jayden knows that’s likely not what Carroll MEANS, he has a habit of fumbling his words when nervous after all... but at the moment, Jayden doesn’t really care.

Nervous or not, Carroll wouldn’t be going through this if he hadn’t dumped them. Hadn’t decided to cut them loose and go messing around with stupid what’s-his-name and his stupid lackluster kisses and holding him in his stupid arms and being stupid who-knows-where when Jayden needed Carroll to be stupid THERE because of a really STUPID decision—  Gaze averted down and to the side, brows knit and feathers bristle slightly as cheeks grow hot with something he can’t quite pinpoint. Shame, anger, embarrassment... All of the above?

Either way, Jayden doesn’t care for it...  

❝  Oh... So now you miss me.  ❞  And he doesn’t care for hearing THAT name pass Carroll’s lips, as if he has the right to call him that right now. Like he has the right to pretend it means something.  ❝  You play disappointing tonsil-tennis with some theatre trick and decide you’d rather fuck around with me instead of Caterpillar Part Two.  ❞  Arms crossed, words are tersely spoke, bitter gaze focused off to the side because he can’t bring himself to look at Carroll. Ignoring the tears pricking at the edge of his eyes, Jayden fervently prays that Carroll doesn’t notice,  ❝  You wanna ‘try again’.  ❞  Air quotes accompany the words, Jayden rolling their eyes before finally looking at Carroll... only to realize with a pang in their chest that he’s slightly blurry.    

Fuck. Well, they can’t look away now... All they can do is try to keep the brimming tears from overflowing because if there’s one thing they DON’T need, it’s to cry in the hallway where everyone can see them. They have it hard enough with their peers already, they don’t need the reputation of being ‘that guy’ hovering over them too.  ❝ You want ‘us’ to try ‘again?’ Well I- I don’t even recall me NOT trying. You’re the one who stopped. You decided this wasn’t good enough. That I wasn’t good enough... and- and I still don’t even know what the fuck I did wrong.  ❞  Voice shakes, Jayden swallowing thickly as they realize their voice had gotten a smidge louder than anticipated. 

Cheeks flush with color, Jayden winces as they quickly look around, the small duck seeming to shrink in on himself even more at the sight of eyes indiscreetly upon them. Rubbing at their glossy eye with a shoulder, voice is reduced to a mere mumble— irritation attempting and failing to lace their words because it’s easier than remorse —as they twist the strap of their bag,  ❝  I don’t know exactly why you decided to replace me... Or- tried to, anyway.... I just know that you did.  ❞  

❝  And... And how am I supposed to know you won’t do it again? That- That I won’t NEED you... Really need you... and- and you won’t be there....  ❞  Focused on the ground, breath grows a bit quicker as they feel their heart hammer within their chest; throat bobs as they thickly swallow the SICK feeling in their stomach, knowing that as true as some of their words might be... there are others that are irrational. It’s unfair to partially blame Carroll for something he had no part in. And yet - 

❝  ... You’re supposed to protect me.  ❞  { ☆ }   

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Complexities Unknowable- Chapter 7 (Finale!)

Ao3,   1    2    3    4    5    6.  MasterPost

Relationships: Deintruality, background Analogince

Warnings: Cursing, Remus-typical language and jokes, Minor self-deprication/insecurity, the ol’ ‘thinks-it’s-unrequited-and-is-oblivious-to-obvious-flirting’ song and dance, all sympathetic sides, feelings of being left out, also I accidentally projected too hard and now Patton has adhd oops. 

Word Count: 4,000 (approximately)

Patton felt better than he could ever remember feeling. Sleep came easy as it hadn’t for him in years. It was amazing how far a little bit of understanding went.

When all your closest friends are together, you get lonely. Patton wouldn’t say that he was jealous, but everything was different now. When he used to spend time with the others, it was four pals spending quality time together! Now when they did, it was a date, except oops! Patton’s here too! How awkward!

He knew that was unfair. They didn’t really think of him that way, of course not. Hence why he didn’t bring it up.

It wasn’t like that with Remus and Deceit. Even though they were dating, Patton never felt left behind. Their humor was dark and snarky but accessible, not laden with inside jokes that he’d missed out on or specific clues that he didn’t pick up. 

The inclusiveness they treated him with was probably borne from being excluded for so long, though he didn’t like to think about that. The fact was, the three were friends now, the past was past, and Patton was drinking in their companionship like fine wine (or, to be more accurate to himself, a grape juice box).

It did not take him long to figure out why he was so fond of their company. You can only spend so much time with Deceit prattling about the dangers of repression before you start to unearth all of those deeply buried feelings.

He’d fallen for the Dark Sides. Whoops. 

Could you really blame him? Deceit, suave and clever and funny, yet so gentle when he wanted to be; Remus, bold and brash and energetic, but still with such a deep empathy hidden in him! It was no wonder that the two were already together- anyone who spent as much time with them as they spent with each other would be head-over-heels as well! (Patton was speaking from experience on that one). 

Initial surprise regarding the feelings had soon faded to something almost comfortable. He was happy to have them as his friends alone, so what was a little crush? No big deal!

...Was what he had thought ten minutes ago, when there wasn’t an affectionate Remus wrapped around him, chattering off various compliments.

“I could hold you forever, Patty. You are just the softest, like a water balloon full of blood and organs! But still so ripped, I mean, damn!”

“Language,” Patton chided meekly, trying very hard to not dissolve into the ether.

“Awww, you can’t make an exception for me? Just this once? I’ll make it worth your while~,” the last part was a hushed sing-song right near Morality’s ear. He felt his face redden, but forced himself away to refocus on… whatever he had been doing.

“Nope, no exceptions,” he chirped, going back to- right! Cleaning!

“You aren’t tempted at all? You are so responsible- and that’s really one of the sexiest qualities there is.”

It was just Remus’ nature to talk to people like that, Patton told himself firmly. The Creative side was just expressing his friendly affection in a way that made sense to him. It came alongside being close to someone so unused to ‘typical’ friendship dynamics, after all. Patton reminded himself of this again and again, denying himself the desperate urge that welled up and told him to respond in kind. He would not purposefully misinterpret Remus’ actions for his own gain, he was better than that!

“Thank you, Rem,” just nice, platonic gratitude for nice, platonic compliments. 

Eventually, finally, mercifully, The Duke had seemed to get bored. He disentangled himself from Patton (appearing rather crestfallen, though the moral trait wasn’t sure why), and wandered off. 

But that, whether for good or for bad, was hardly the end of that.

Deceit’s room was magnificently cozy. It was armchairs that swallowed up whomever sat in them, warm lamps casting down on all surfaces, and jazzy music playing distantly in the background. In other words, the perfect place for a good cup of tea and some sandwiches, not to mention pleasant conversation.

Deceit lounged back in his oversized chair, sending Patton an inscrutable look across their teacups. The side smiled, hoping that was the appropriate response.

“So,” he drawled, switching the track of their conversation abruptly, “You’re something of a seamster, aren’t you?”

Patton stared blankly for a moment before the term clicked.

“Oh, you mean a seamstress?”

“Sorry, I thought you’d prefer the masculine, but that really was presumptuous of me,” Deceit amended in apology. 

“I didn’t know that there was a word for it other than seamstress. Hey, isn’t it kinda weird how some jobs are like that, when you think about it? Like how there’s actors and actresses! Why wouldn’t ‘actor’ be all encompassing, ya know?”

Deceit made a vague noise of disinterest and waved his hand, as though manually cutting off the tangent in conversation.

“Yes, gender is a distasteful societal construct and an overall prison to our consciences, we both agree- but regardless, you sew. Make clothing and things like our quilt. Isn’t that right?”

“Right- yes.”

“Do you make all of your own clothes, then?”

“Hmm, sometimes I do- I mostly make stuff for the others. It’s easier to conjure simple stuff for myself, but making them is a lot of fun!” Morality gestured enthusiastically to the pastel pink sweater that he wore, fluffy and intricately patterned. 

Deceit’s eyes glinted in a strange, intimidating, and also incredibly hot way. Patton almost forced the attraction out of his mind, before realizing that that kind of repression would definitely be noticed in this part of the Mindscape. 

“I would have to say you have quite the talent, in that case,” the dishonest trait set down his cup and craned his body over the small table between them, heterochromatic gaze alight with… something. Patton cleared his throat. 

“W-Why’s that?” 

“You look positively hideous in that, my Dear,” he purred in obvious lies, gloved hands now sitting in the middle of the table and creeping forward by the inch.

“Aw, thanks,” Patton croaked, fighting the urge to lean forward in turn. 

Something strangely disappointed flashed in Deceit’s eyes, but he quickly recovered. He reached out to run a hand along Patton’s sleeve, the touch lingering against his arm.

“My my, that’s just like a cloud. How did you manage that, Darling?”

Morality shivered as Deceit continued to toy with the fabric of his sweater. 

“I-It’s probably because it’s made with love! Since that’s what I am, kinda,” he stammered, desperately trying to keep up the cheery tone.

“I’m inclined to agree. There’s beauty in all you touch, Sunshine.”

Oh, the pet names. Patton really couldn’t take it; he jerked away and pressed his back against the chair, before he had the chance to do something stupid. Honestly, it was sad how hard this was for him- Deceit was just trying to be a good friend! It wasn’t his fault that he showed it with flirts!

“You’re too sweet,” with distance reestablished, Morality found it much easier to formulate words, “I really appreciate you, Dee.”

Deceit blinked, still hovering over the table. He cleared his throat and snapped back into his seat, suddenly looking the part of the cold and distant Dark Side that Patton had feared just months prior. Guarded, callous, stoic. It was almost frightening, how quickly he changed. 

“Yes, I know you do. Let’s change topics, shall we?”

Patton, feeling quite a bit of whiplash, nodded hesitantly. Their conversation continued to flow normally, for the most part, but he couldn’t help feeling that he’d messed up somewhere. There was something heavy over them, but Patton hadn’t the slightest idea what it was. 

For a brief, dizzying moment, he wondered if they were moving backwards. If he’d somehow crossed a line when he was trying so hard not to, and now they were two steps back again. Just the thought of it made him too sick to finish his tea.

Patton didn’t have to be worried for long about that particular mishap, thankfully, as a very momentous occasion had swallowed up the fear. Remus and Deceit were going to be joining in their first ever movie night as part of the family! 

There’d been plenty of TV marathons with just them and Pat already, but now they’d all come together! As part of the group!! Contributing to the voting and the arguing and the joking and the experience of it all!!! Needless to say, Patton was practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement. 

He plopped down onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn, passing a much larger container of snacks to the amorphous blob of limbs and sass that had once been his three best friends, cuddled together far across from him. Now, all they needed were the Dark- sorry, former Dark Sides.

He wasn’t waiting for long before Deceit and Remus appeared in the living room (Remus, thank the lord, wearing actual pajamas). Patton couldn’t contain the happy little chirp that escaped him, scrunching himself to one side of the sectional so that they’d have plenty of room to make themselves at home.

Rather than huddling together in the crook of the curved sofa, however, Deceit immediately gestured for Patton to scooch over, and Remus sat on his other side. Morality was happy (if a bit surprised) to comply with this new seating arrangement, flashing them bright smiles. In light of recent events, being so close with both of them was a little dizzying, but it wasn’t too hard to bear. For now.

The conversation on which movie to watch that night was more agreeable than usual, which was nice; they got right to the marathon with little hassle. Patton sighed as the opening credits to Tangled played. At that moment, his life couldn’t get any more wonderful. Surrounded by the people he cared about, finally all together, it was perfect. 

And then, a mere ten minutes in, Remus leaned his chin on Patton’s shoulder and pressed into his side. 

“Mother Gothel is such a Milf.”

Patton would usually have been put off by the sexual comment, but at that moment Deceit had also seemed to decide that he’d make a good headrest. Which was fine, this was fine. Some mild friendly cuddling- nothing he couldn't handle!

Another twenty minutes later and Remus twisted an arm around his waist. Deceit held Patton’s hand between a couple of his own. By this point, they were beginning to look a lot like the cuddle pile wrapped up together on the other side of the couch. He was still alive, though!

Neither of the sides beside him moved an inch until the film ended, only begrudgingly letting go when Morality had to get up for a snack refill. Even then, they latched back onto him as soon as he returned. Thus began the second movie, and the beginning of Patton's slow and snuggly death.

Every few minutes, it would be something else: Deceit ran a hand or two through his hair, Remus hooked his leg around Patton’s, Deceit nuzzled against his neck, Remus laughed into his shoulder, et cetera et cetera et cetera.

Three movies in and he was barely keeping up with the conversation. His head was spinning and he was sure he’d never been so warm, but more than that he felt protected. Even adored. He wasn't often on the receiving end of affection, and the longing brought with it ached, but he never wanted it to end.

Then Virgil yawned (oh yeah, the other three were still there), exiting from the ending credits of All Dogs Go To Heaven and clicking back to the main screen.

“Bed time,” he grumbled, a tone so intimate and low and clearly meant for his boyfriends that Patton almost felt bad for overhearing it. 

“It is getting quite late,” Logan agreed, standing to stretch. Roman followed suit and dragged a  sleepy Anxiety up with him.

Virgil tossed the remote in Patton's general direction and let Roman haul him up in his arms (Deceit caught it with an unoccupied arm, given that the moral side’s brain was currently jelly). The three bid their goodnights and were gone with a few shimmers of color and a whoosh.

“I guess we should head up, too,” Patton murmured, working very hard to disguise his reluctance. To his surprise, the traits sandwiching him only sank further into his sides.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right, it’s so very late,” Deceit rumbled, his face partially hidden in the crook of Patton’s neck.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted. I can’t move,” Remus added, his voice ticking up in a noticeably mischievous way. 

“I can’t either. We should stay, just like this.”

Patton's heart warmed, looking between their adorably sleepy faces. He couldn’t lie, the offer was tempting, but in such a situation his brain came back to him. Despite the continued proximity of his crushes, this was something he could handle! 

“Aww, don’t you worry about it, I’ve got ya,” and, making very sure that his grip was secure, Patton stood up with Deceit and Remus cradled in either arm. He hardly staggered under the weight of the sides, familiar with such heavy lifting. 

Remus and Deceit went from sleepiness to pure shock in a matter of milliseconds. Deceit instinctively clung to Patton with all of his limbs, meanwhile Remus gave a startled laugh. Their faces were a matching pink; oh, he could have made them uncomfortable!

“Is this okay? I promise I won't drop you.”

Remus nodded frantically; Deceit squawked in an affirming sort of way. 

Relief washed over Patton and, satisfied with the response, he sank out in a circle of cyan. For a moment, he feared that the nausea that The Subconscious usually brought him would unsteady him, but he was left pleasantly surprised when he felt none. In fact, it felt just like rising up anywhere else. Just as easy as breathing. Hm.

He didn’t dwell on it too long, ascending The Subconscious’ staircase and bringing his cargo to the first bedroom he saw (Deceit’s). He nudged the door open with his shoe, carrying them right to the bed and dropping them down gently. Remus fell onto his back with a happy hum; Deceit stayed upright and stared at Patton with wide eyes. He huffed a laugh and nudged The Snake's shoulders, and Deceit let himself fall beside his boyfriend, dazed. 

This was routine for Patton: grabbing the covers and blanketing his friends, as he’d done for probably every other side at one point or another (even Logan, though he would deny it furiously). Once Remus and Deceit were sufficiently tucked in, he stood up and dimmed the lights to near darkness. 

“Alright, you two have a good night's sleep.”

There was a noise of approval from the pair. Patton gave them one last smile before disappearing back to his own room. To scream into his pillow and think about how gay he was.

Which meant that he didn't get the opportunity to hear the interaction that followed between Dee and Ree.

“Well, that didn’t backfire at all.”

���I want him to snap my spine in half like a glow stick. He could break every bone in my body and I would thank him,” Remus replied dreamily. Deceit hummed in agreement. 

“Perhaps we should try a more… direct approach, as this doesn’t seem to be working in our favor.”

“I dunno about you, but I’m feeling pretty fuckin’ favored right now.”

“I was suggesting that we be more-” he very nearly gagged, “Straightforward.”

“More like gay-forward, actually,” Remus corrected, “But I’m with you! You know I love being direct.”

“Now when I say direct, I don’t mean blunt.”

“I don’t understand the difference.”

“I know you don’t. Let me do the talking.”

“Fine by me! Whatever works to get him to pick me up and throw me!”

Deceit rolled his eyes, settling his arms around Remus. 

“Yes, yes- but I’m actually wide awake right now, and I’d love it if you keep being loud all night, Dearest.” 

“Oh, right,” Remus lowered his voice, curling himself around the lying side in turn. Together, their breathing slowed. As they drifted to sleep, the feeling of Patton's arms around them still ghosted their skin.

Patton was cleaning furiously. He’d already reorganized the entirety of his room- twice, for that matter- and now he’d moved to the Common area. It hadn’t been so much as a week since his last tidying session, and the Mindpalace was pretty much spotless, but that was irrelevant. It was as good a distraction as any.

Maybe he was avoiding the trifecta of trifling traits- aka his best friends- because he knew that they’d ask about why he was being so weird lately. Maybe he was avoiding Deceit and Remus, the reason that he’d been weird lately. Maybe he was just avoiding his thoughts about them, because seeing them all cozied up and sleepy and adorable a couple nights ago really hadn’t helped settle his growing infatuation with them. Most likely, he was avoiding all three. 

But he had failed to take into account that The Common Area was not the best place for avoiding stuff. Given that it was. A Public Space. 

“Patton,” began the voice of Deceit behind him, in a tone deadly serious.

He spun around to see a very embarrassed Dee and an immensely giddy Remus. Well, Shhhhh-ucks. Shucks. 

“Hey!” Patton tossed the sponge in his hand back into the sink and pretended that he wasn’t freaking out at that exact moment. 

Deceit hardly registered the greeting, continuing: 

“We need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

The Snake opened his mouth, and promptly closed it. His eyes had widened concerningly, and he cast his gaze downwards.

“We-” he cut off again. Patton’s worry was mounting. 

“DeeDee?” Remus prompted, elbowing his partner’s side, “I thought you were doing the talking?”

“I-I can do this, I’m not tapping out,” his voice was frenzied, hiding himself behind The Duke in a rare display of fear. 

“Guys? Is something wrong?” Patton approached them, all of his nervousness about his feelings forgotten in the face of this distress, “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Remus gave him a warm smile, not hesitating for a breath. 

“We came to tell you you’re hot and we wanna date you! But, you know how bad Dee is with words! Anyway, whaddya say?”

Deceit, for his part, nodded in deep resignation. And Patton’s head reeled.

He could hear, audibly hear his heart thumping against his ribs. It was probably as simple as a confession could get, but regardless he found himself frantically replaying the words over and over and over again. He’d never imagined- not even for a second- even the thought of it- 

Mentally, he took a step back. Roman, Logan, and Virgil were an item. Remus and Deceit were an item. And Patton was a third party, paternal and caring and watching out for all of them and their misadventures, though he knew he’d never be entirely part of it. But maybe, now he could be. After everything, they wanted not to just be with him, but to be with him.

It didn’t process.

“I- You- What- Me?”

Because there is good in this world, Remus (correctly) interpreted his flustered stammering as surprise and not distaste. The smile that he almost always wore widened and he took a step forward, dragging the mildly less panicked Deceit along with him.

“You,” he confirmed, shimmying excitedly in place, “Definitely you. And us.”

“I second that not-at-all vague sentiment. We’ve grown unfortunately fond of you,” Deceit uncoiled himself from Remus enough to be seen clearly.

Patton saw it. He saw, in full light and understanding, the subtext in their previous interactions. And now that he did, he had no idea how he’d missed it. A testament to the power of his insecurity, probably. But that didn’t matter, because they liked him back.

Patton failed to words. But, they were very near, and he was very happy, and in the light of new context, he figured that they wouldn’t mind the response he opted for instead. 

He hopped forward with a delighted squeal, scooping the traits up in his arms. Remus started cackling and immediately returned the hug with just as much fervor. Deceit wasn’t far behind for once, allowing his face to split with a smile equal parts shock, relief, and glee. 

“Oh, I love you two so much!” Patton laughed out, burying his face in Remus’ hair. 

“I love you back!” Remus said in kind. 

Deceit attempted a dramatic groan, but he failed to tamp down his grin. 

“It could be said that I feel something love-adjacent for the both of you. Perhaps.” 

Patton’s mind was swimming in joy, so much so that it barely registered when Remus tilted his head back only to lean forward, and oh wow, were they kissing. Patton’s vision was all bright blurs of color, and he melted. The creative trait pushed up against him, rough in much the same way as an overly excited large dog. Patton hardly had time to reciprocate the kiss before Remus broke off completely from the hug, unflustered and unaffected by what he’d done, save for a light blush.

“Now you guys!”

Oh, he was still hugging Deceit. 

“Only if it’s okay?” he’d barely gotten the apprehensive words out of his mouth when it was suddenly occupied, and the world went back to hazey vibrance. Deceit was almost skittish, a barely-there press against his lips like he expected Patton to shove him away. He didn’t, by the way. Rather, he slid a hand up to rest between the side’s shoulder blades, bringing him nearer. 

After a moment, they pulled back slowly, not letting go of each other. 

“That was hot, ngl,” Remus chimed from his perch on the counter.

Patton was overcome with a fit of giggling, energy building in him. He ended his and Deceit’s very drawn-out embrace to satisfy the necessity of full body wiggle. He was in Silly Mode, there was no avoiding this until it had been exorcised via The Joyful Movement™. Patton flapped his hands at his sides and shook his hair out, laughing all the while. Today could not possibly get better!

But he remembered his audience of two. He looked up, hair fluffed up and face flushed with fading excitement and a tinge of self-consciousness. 

“Sorry, I got over-excited...”

“That,” Deceit announced solemnly, “Was astoundingly adorable.”

“I’ve died a gruesome death,” Remus rolled off the counter and onto the ground with a crash (and some bone crunches thrown in, probably for fun), “My heart overloaded, it has burst. There’s blood everywhere, it’s in my eyes, I’m now also blind.” 

Patton’s relief escaped in another bout of laughter, and something lifted in him. A weight that had been there for so long that he hadn’t even remembered it was there, nor how it felt to be without it. But now that it had left, he didn’t know how he had been living with it for so long. There was airiness in his chest, a clarity in his mind, a general sense of contentment rushing over him. This wasn’t a face he put on for others benefit, it wasn’t a fleeting enjoyment of one thing or another- what it was was a deep, thrumming joy that overcame him. 

He was happy. 

Naturally, Patton could not finish cleaning due to. Circumstances. Those circumstances being, he was finally letting himself indulge in some quality time with his new boyfriends (an identifier he very much liked the sound of). 

The trio were half-laying on the Common room’s couch, a tangle of various limbs. Remus leaned against a pile of pillows, and Patton rested his head on his chest. Draped across the both of them was Deceit, fastening all of his arms around them in a manner simultaneously protective and needy. Oh, and also very, very cute. 

“This was totally what I was planning from the beginning,” his voice reverberated through Patton’s chest, “God, I am so great at plotting.”

Remus clicked his tongue agreeably, pressing a kiss to the top of Morality’s head.

“Yeah, I was pretty sure we were gonna end up killing you, Pumpkin. This wasn’t even in the ballpark of outcomes.” 

Patton hummed in thought, cuddling himself closer to his partners.

“I dunno. I’d say your plan turned out pretty well.”

@deceits-left-glove​ 

@princemesscharming

@shrimp-crockpot

[espejonight28738]

15×09 "The Trap" Meta

Warning: As always, Destiel and Saileen positive so don't like don't read.

OMG guys I can't even this episode was something else. Like, for real.

First of all, it looks like I was right about Eileen being part of Chuck's plan.

"I helping to Sam the Bunker. To Sam. To Romance." Thanks Chuck for proving me right, but if you could please not hurt my baby Eileen and Sam while you do it would be awesome ;-;

Now if only I could be in the right about the happy ending...

But whatever. Let's talk about the prayer first, because I could talk about it for hours. Everything was so wonderful.

First, when Dean looks he only have 29 minutes left to find Cas, you could see all the trauma resourfaced. You could see how he was imagining ending up without Cas again. Having to go back home (although he didn't seem to be going to the portal when right before he found Cas, but I have no certainty about it) and leave Cas behind, and he imagined himself reliving the guilt and the hallucinations and the hopelessness.

[Gif by the amazing @agusvedder because I want you to look at him and tell me that ain't the look of a man who just imagined losing the love of his life again]

And, above all, Dean imagined having to live through it all knowing he never fixed their relationship. Rowena's words about not waiting until it was too late must have been ringing in his ears. And he knows that he needs Cas to know.

Purgatory's pureness gave him a new understanding of his emotions, and I'm not talking about the anger (it's obvious Dean already knew he had that problem), but the need for Cas.

"Cas, buddy, I need you." That same need, mixed with the possibility of losing Cas yet once again was enough for Dean to just break down in the middle of a land of abominations.

And the first thing he says. "I should've stopped you." Can you see how he is telling us we were right all along? Cas said "I left but you didn't stop me." And now Dean knows he could have.

If he had tried to talk, if he had asked Cas to stay, maybe he wouldn't have left. Dean put himself through that depression (the even heavier drinking, comfort food, the coldness) .

[And as an author note. How was that real? "You didn't stop me/I should've stop you" The Brontë sisters WISH they could write that levels of angsty romance.]

And, having Dean finally admitting to his very real anger issues gives me very high hopes for everything else. It's not like his problem will disappear, it does was kinda beaten into him, but having him admitting it is recognizing it as a standing problem between Dean and a Happy Future, so we can assume that will be another one of the problem they'll tackle in the rest of the season.

(Or maybe they'll forget about it. But s15 has been so good until now that I'm hoping they won't ignore it.)

And Dean calling Cas his best friends. Holy mother of God. I know I made several jokes about it, but it truly is so significant. Because words like "Family" and "Brother (and sister for Charlie)" are ones Dean had given other people. But Best Friend is only for Cas, it puts him in a special place in Dean's live no one else shares.

Maybe it's not exactly the place we want him to be in (yet), but the fact alone that they recognize once again how Dean and Cas' relationship is different to the one they have with anyone else.

So when did found Cas and said "Okay, Cas, I need to say something", I agree we wasn't about to repeat his prayer.

The Prayer (the fact that Dean got on his damn knees, for god's sake) was a moment of absolute vulnerability and emotion. Dean grew up in with a "no emotions" mentality tought to him by John, and so we seldom see him show this kind of raw vulnerability by choice. Considering that the Winchesters (as always, I include Jack and Cas in there) are an experts in 'I screw up and you got angry but then we had a bigger problem so we kinda left it behind us bc we are family and I love you anyway, or we just move on without never really discussing it' but not in actually apologizing, I would go as far as to say this was probably the most heartfelt apologize we've seen in the series.

I've watched the scene like a million times, and he just carries an attitude of doing something big. Like a big reveal, not like repiting himself.

Because he knew Cas heard him. The reason he said "I hope you can here me, that wherever you are, it's not too late" it's 'cause he was afraid Cas had died. That is was really too late. Once he saw Cas was alive? I don't think Dean doubted for a second Cas had heard him. He was hoing to say something else.

Cas clearly didn't want to take the risk of Dean telling him what he truly wanted to hear- what he had wanted for years. The risk of his deal with the Empty hovering behind hime. He couldn't be so selfish as allowing himself to hear it, just to abandon Dean right after.

Then Cas interrupted him.

Or abandoning Sam when he was at God's mercy, or leaving the World SavingTM to them. He couldn't. Dean doesn't even now about the deal.

I cannot tell you how much I loved it. Not in a "I want this to happen" way, of course not, but in what it means.

That's why Dabb said this episode wasn't the resolution. There's still much unsaid between them, if you believe there is an 'I love you' somewhere there. I think that's what has my hopes the highest. Because if they are only bff, then why didn't this solve everything? What is left hanging? I don't want to clown but it's literally the only thing that makes sense in my opinion.

And now, let's talk about the future Sam saw.

Sam and Dean don't need only each other to be happy, they need other people. That's basically what that future said.

"What's happened to you Dean? Ever since..."

"Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we ever cared about?"

[There is like a 2 second pause here that I feel very important andd significant. The separation between what 'everyone' and 'Cas']

"Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy? Ever since I had to bury him in Ma'lak box? Ever since then? Yeah." [Jfc you can hear it pains him to say Cas' name]

"Bobby had a death wish and you know it. And Jody? Ever since what happened to Donna and the girls, she does too.

And after Eileen? So do you."

He's acknowledging everyone's breaking point. Jody's was Donna and the girls (we don't know exactly which one was the last straw, as we know that at least in Claire's case they died at different times). Sam's was Eileen. His was Cas.

And he is very clear in that. We can't know what happened first, but we know that Sam asks what happened to *him* and he says it was Cas going crazy. It was having to bury Cas alive what made him lose all hope. Because at least he can hope they ones dead can find pace, but Cas? Dean, and for how he said it he probably did it alone, had to bury Cas knowing he was going to be there for the rest of the time. Suffering alone. Dean knows how it's like to have the Mark.

That broke Dean. And having Sam wasn't enough to put him back together.

And after Eileen somehow died again, Sam just stop caring about living, he just care about taking down as many monsters as he can before he dies. 'Death wish' Dean called it. He would know about that, he is Dean "You wanna die" Winchester, after all.

Having Dean wasn't enough for Sam to want to keep on living.

"We lost, brother. We lost. I'm done."

They still have each other? Yes. Is that remotely enough? No. That's what the future told us. They need more than each other, they need other people.

But there was a little something else that made it even more beautiful.

"The Dean who raised me [...]"

Let's be clear about something, I think the show never gives enough recognition for having raised same pretty much by himself since he was 4 years. The situation was totally unfair to Dean and yet he never once took it out on Sam, he just look out for him, cooked for him, and make sure he could be as much of a child as the situation allowed, that is a lot more than Dean ever could. In his own words, he wasn't just a brother, he was also a father and a mother.

I just want to cry for thinking how hard that was for both brother. And Sam knows it, even if he doesn't always acknowledges. So the fact that he chose the words "the Dean that raised me" when "the Dean that I know", for example, would have conveyed the sentiment as well, is significant.

They wanted to remember how important they are for each other, how much they love each other. They don't dismiss that, they are making sure we remember that, at the same time they are telling us the alone aren't enough for a happy ending.

They are telling us what we need for a True Happy Ending.

Dean and Sam still being close brothers and loving each other, but allowing themselves to love and need other people.

Okay I'll go to the point.

A HAPPY ENDING IS SAM AND THEN HAVING OTHER PEOPLE IN THEIR LIVES WITHOUT LOSING EACH OTHER.

A HAPPY ENDING IS THE END OF THE TOXIC CODEPENDENCY AND THE START OF A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP THAT INCLUDES THEIR RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHER PEOPLE.

You guys now I've been saying they are hinting at it since my meta of "The Rupture" but this ain't foreshadowing THEY ARE SCREAMING IT. Like I can't come up with a radically different interpretation.

So this episode only got my hopes for endgame Saileen and Destiel (the destiel maybe not at canon as the saileen, but heavily hinted at least) even higher. Specially for the parallel with Eileen having Dean's doubts ("I don't know what's real") and Sam making kinda answering the same ("We are"/"I know that was real"). Btw I'll be screaming because of that for the rest of my days.

[BONUS: Random questions I can't seem to answer.

Does the angels even know God's going bersek? I mean, Belphegor didn't know it was God the one who broke hell... but even Lilith's been brought back. Do they know Micheal's back? God I don't know.

Was that really a possible future? Or it does was like a Zacharaiah tactic? Why does Chuck's abscence makes monster go crazy? Wasn't the point that it didn't unblanaced the powers?

Story-wise, why ain't Cas in next episode?

Was that the last mention of Claire? An off-screen hypotetical death? Please someome let me see my girl again.]

Tagging: @metafest @verobatto-angelxhunter @agusvedder @legendary-destiel @that-one-fandom-chick @studio-hatter

[scintillating-galaxias]

one hundred and seventy-ninth time's a charm

Drift and Rodimus spend the evening talking about crushes and what to do about them. Namely, Rodimus talks about his crush, and Drift tells him what to do about it.

(read it here on ao3!)

Drift really should have stayed in his hab suite tonight.

“I can’t do this anymore!” Rodimus thumped his fist against the table, rattling the several empty cubes around him. “I’m gonna die, Drift.”

“You’re not going to die,” Drift said.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“About?” As if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Him! Thunderclash!” Yep. “I can’t—ugh!” Rodimus threw his arms up and petulantly slouched in his seat.

“Wow,” Drift said, drawing out the first w in disbelief.

“Drift,” Rodimus moaned. He slowly sunk to lay facedown across the tabletop. Drift didn’t look away from his datapad as he lifted his servo and sympathetically patted Rodimus’ helm. “He’s so fraggin’ nice and noble and pretty. How does he make a color scheme like that work for him? Red legs and teal arms and a yellow face? How? It’s so unfair.”

Drift merely shook his helm while Rodimus mumbled into the table. Hm. It looked like Ultra Magnus’ citation count was beginning to tick up again (“—and so tall and I bet he’d be stupid good at hugging and—”). Reckless behavior, vandalism, destruction of personal property, encouraging unnecessary violence. All clear signs that the Lost Light needed to find a place to stay for a while so its passengers could blow off some steam (“—and his laugh is all deep, and it gets in my chest, and it makes me feel all floaty? It’s weird.”). He’d have to pass the suggestion on to Ultra Magnus himself or Megatron at some point, seeing as their first in command was currently otherwise… occupied.

“—you think he likes me? He smiles and compliments me all the damn time, but maybe I’m wrong and I think he’s just being nice to me when he’s actually nice to everyone?”

“Have you considered,” Drift began with the weariness of someone who has had this exact conversation no less than one hundred and seventy-eight times with no results, “that if you didn’t very obviously and dramatically avoid every conversation with him, you’d find out?”

Rodimus paused. Then he turned his helm towards Drift. “Is it obvious?”

“Painfully so.”

“What should I do then?”

“I have a two-step solution for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Number one.” Drift put up one digit and waited for Rodimus to focus on it. When he blearily did, Drift said shortly, “Have a normal conversation with him that doesn’t involve compliments disguised as insults and-and-or running away. You’re sending messages that are mixed to the point where he doesn’t want to approach you for fear of offending you. Trust me, I asked.” And he had. After weeks of hovering, it was clear Thunderclash didn’t want to step on the lines in the sand Rodimus had unintentionally drawn. Drift, having been watching the dance between the two of them for far too long, decided to step in then.

Rodimus winced but didn’t deny it. “Can do,” he said easily. “What’s step two?”

“Step two is to ask him out.”

Rodimus sputtered and shot straight back up, mouth gaping. “Are you crazy?” he asked with a slight squeak to his voice. “I can’t just—do that.”

Normally at this point, Drift would shrug and say, if you say so. Rodimus would huff and bluster for a few more moments before pointedly avoiding this particular point of conversation like the rust plague for the duration of the night. And that was that. 

But Drift, to be frank, had had enough. One hundred and seventy-ninth time’s a charm.

He shot Rodimus a frown. “Why not?”

Rodimus sputtered. “‘Cause he’s Thunderclash! And I’m—”

“A very capable, determined, wonderful mech who is not about to tell me that he is unworthy of Thunderclash’s potential romantic interest in him,” Drift cut in firmly, narrowing his optics.

“Sure,” Rodimus huffed. “But there’s also no way he’s gonna say yes.”

Drift thought for a moment. Should he mention that Thunderclash had been staring at Rodimus for as long as they’ve been at Swerve’s? Or reveal he had a ten-minute long audio file of Thunderclash talking about all the things he liked about Rodimus’ smile? Or admit it had been Thunderclash who had anonymously gifted Rodimus his favorite spray paint set? Hmm. He could. Or…

“You’re right,” he eventually said with a woebegone sigh. “He won’t. Because you’ll never ask.”

Rodimus narrowed his optics. “You’re doing it again,” he accused, jabbing an accusatory digit at Drift. “The reverse psychology thing. It’s not gonna work.”

Drift dramatically rolled his helm as he ignored Rodimus and continued, “You won’t ask, and you’ll never get to be held in those big, strong arms…”

A telltale heat shimmer began to warp the air around Rodimus’ exhaust pipes. “Stop that.”

“And you’ll never get to kiss his pretty face—”

“Drift.”

He stared Rodimus right in the optic. “You won’t get the chance to suck his—”

“Drift!” Rodimus yelped, slapping a servo over Drift’s mouth while barely smothering his laughter. “Shut up, oh my God.”

Drift snorted and peeled Rodimus’ servo off of his face. Then he wound his digits between Rodimus’ and tugged him in close. “Rodimus, I need you to listen to me,” he said somberly. Rodimus’ smile faded slightly. “I love and care for you very deeply. You know that, right?”

“I wonder sometimes, but yeah.” Drift squeezed his servo just on the side of too tight. “Ow, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I know, Drift.”

“That’s why I need you to promise me you’ll at least try to talk to Thunderclash.”

Rodimus’ field twisted with uncertainty. “I mean, you were right, earlier,” he said offhandedly. “I dunno if he even wants to talk to me now. I’ve kinda fragged things between us up a lot.”

“Stop trying to convince yourself of a fact you don’t know for certain is true. Besides, Thunderclash isn’t the type to hold a grudge. I’m sure he’ll forgive you if you apologize first."

But Rodimus still didn’t look convinced. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How are you so sure about all of this?”

Rodimus is the bravest and strongest mech I know. I’ve never seen such genuine conviction and determination in my many years of function. It’s hard to believe he’s of the same stuff as you and me.

I’ve heard many stories about Rodimus, some unsavory, some heroic, and some that fall in-between. But each one has only sought to prove his spark burns brighter and fiercer than anything in this universe.

Oh, what I would give to be able to tell him how truly wonderful he is! I’d tell him every day if he would allow it—And I’d much instead gain the courage to say that all to him myself one day, so my apologies for requesting you not share any of this with him, but I can’t bear the weight of my affections by myself a second longer—

“Primus has gifted me with wonderful intuition,” Drift said.

“...Ugh. Your intuition's always right.” Rodimus sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ll talk to him.”

Drift smiled a small, genuine smile. “You’re a good mech.” He patted Rodimus on the back and gently pushed him back. “Also, I am going to start locking you out of my hab suite every time you come to complain about your crush on him.”

Rodimus groaned and thunked his head against Drift’s shoulder. “I knew there was a catch. You’re the worst.”

“Interesting way to pronounce ‘helpful amica who wants his best friend to be happy because he deserves it.’” Drift took a sip of his drink and picked up his datapad. “Go get your mech, Rods.”

“What like, right now?” Rodimus asked with an incredulous hitch of laughter.

“Well, now that you’ve said it… yes.”

“Ugh.” Rodimus stole the rest of Drift’s drink and gulped it down in two swallows. Then he stood and rubbed his servos together furiously before blowing out a short, harsh exvent. “You owe me drinks here forever if you’re wrong, and this goes to Pit,” he hissed.

“It won’t,” Drift smiled.

Rodimus sighed again before striding over to where Thunderclash was sitting. The mech in question very hastily turned his helm away to pretend he was focusing on his drink, only to peek up bashfully when Rodimus came to a stop at his table. Rodimus shot a worried glance back at Drift, who smiled encouragingly. Rodimus’ spoilers flicked nervously before he turned back to Thunderclash with a slightly strained smile. His servo went to apologetically rest on the back of his helm, the other gesturing as he spoke. Thunderclash watched him with wide optics before a smile broke out across his face. He replied something with an earnest expression and a servo laid grandly over his spark that had Rodimus' spoilers sinking in relief.

Drift wasn’t sure what Rodimus said next. But whatever it was caused Thunderclash’s helm light to flare up with such a brilliant red glow, Drift had to reset his optics a couple of times to clear the spots from them. Seconds later, an overwhelming wave of pure joy washed over the room. It clearly emanated from the broad smile on Thunderclash’s face as he nodded enthusiastically, then gestured for Rodimus to sit down beside him. Mechs left and right turned to the source. But once they found it, most of them turned away with a fond shake of their helm, though some called out to the pair, and at least one mech definitely whistled.

Drift watched as Rodimus sank into his seat. He could tell by the unsteady descent of the motion instead of the practiced carelessness that Rodimus was more than a little dazed. His smile grew as he opened his comms with Rodimus only to find that he was already typing out a message for him.

.:he said yes:.

.:???:.

.:he said yes???:.

.:I told you he would.:.

.:i owe you:.

.:seriously:.

.:Tell me how it goes and I’ll consider your favor fulfilled.:.

.:I’m happy for you, Rodimus.:.

.:thanks:.

.:for everything.:.

Drift glanced up. Rodimus wasn’t looking at him—he was staring in shock at his servos, which were enclasped in Thunderclash’s—but the content glow of his optics told him everything he needed to know. He nodded once and went back to typing out his report. And if he included a couple of popular date spots as suggested places they visit on nearby planets, well. No one but him needed to know.

[signaturedish]

A question for ur TF fic. What if when Harry gets turned he's like, younger? When it happens I mean (He is 10 right?) Like, five or something maybe? What would change? How would the bots and cons react? How would Harry react?

Hey you! Sorry that took a hot minute. 

Yeah, Harry’s ten in the fic. 

The way I intended it was that he was clearly ten in his internal monologue right up until he was turned into a robobaby. Then the trauma on top of a completely different set of instincts had him thinking and behaving a good 5-3 years younger than his current age with a gradual upward incline as he got more comfortable and familiar with himself in later chapters. Right now in the narrative, he’s almost back to normal, we’re just waiting on a returning desire for independence which won’t happen until he’s secure in his relationship with Megs.

So to make him five, I think that drop in maturity would come off much more dramatically. He was a pretty independent human ten-year-old, resigned to his treatment as a servant, and capable on his own. A five-year-old Harry would be far newer to his servant status and much more unsure of himself from the getgo- Five-year-olds aren’t built for the kind of independence the Durselys expect from him, we’re right in the middle of those growing pains. 

Then we turn him into a robobaby. 

(I like the age I chose for Harry but sad baby Harry was so cute I made this a little long for more details, excuse my indulgence)

Appearance-wise he wouldn’t change much. He’s already too small and at the youngest growth stage, his internal programming would probably be more toddler-esque with a stronger inclination to cry for attention, a greater need for positive attention, and more automatic behaviors geared toward inciting those things. 

Oh and he keeps his lisp.

The first few days would be a nightmare, like constant crying, deeply distressed at all times, desperately reaching out to the scientists on blind instinct and getting reprimanded for it at every turn. A whole mess, a whole inconsolable mess, the scientists think there’s something fundamentally wrong with him, he’s incoherent past the point of even perceived aggression. 

Then Megatron makes his move. He’s been hearing what sounds like a newspark being tortured for hours and hours and now that he can see that it probably isn’t a sleep paralysis-level nightmare driving him to madness he needs to Handle This ASAP.

First problem- Harry isn’t responding to cool, logical instructions to communicate through comm. He’s way past regular conversation. 

This is eventually resolved when Megatron very clumsily takes the right stabs at comforting him. It takes hours, some sullen silences, panicking, maybe a soft reboot or two, but he does get there. Crooning lullabies, softer sentences, praise when Harry stops crying, Megatron is flying so blind it isn’t even funny but he’s not dumb, he can see it’s working.

The transformers view PA!Harry as a very gifted and mature toddler. This itty bitty little baby can fit so much serious thought and a burgeoning emotional intelligence in it so they try their best to accommodate and not come off terribly condescending. Success varies. 

Younger!Harry acts much truer to his appearance. So in general, how the TF crew thinks of Harry changes very little, but how they respond to him does.

Megatron is as soft as he can possibly be to the point of genuine pain. Harry is so much more emotionally dependant and lost that it’s less easy to drift back into overlord mode around him. You’ll note that Megatron doesn’t have another mode to switch to, just a rusty parental unit protocol set he’s never activated before. Soundwave gets called down immediately, surveillance be damned, he needs someone with caretaking knowledge and he needs them now. 

Bumblebee doesn’t really perceive the difference, he couldn’t clock Harry’s age in any au, he was kinda sure the bot was glitched initially. His genuine confusion when Harry kicks and screams and sobs like a very young child who’s thinnest thread of guidance was just ripped away from him by a lying yellow monster easily comes across as cruelty. The mistrust and fear/hatred Harry develops for him does not mellow for far longer than his stay with the Autobots.

On the bright side his meltdown makes the Autobots come to terms with their find much more quickly. They could hear the distress calls a mile from the dam and had a lot of the freakout there instead. 

Ironhide rips him out of Bumblebee’s cab while Jazz is split between hovering worriedly and tearing the scout to pieces for allowing him to get so worked up. Similar rough aesthetic and coloring to Megatron and an English accent help a great deal in calming Harry down and the rocking and lullabies do the rest. 

Every Autobot has his targeting systems on and a whole lot of automatic aggression coursing through them with the terror and pain of a sparkling still fresh in the air. After Bumblebee is brought to miserable apologies and Bonecrusher is ripped limb from limb they’re still pumped and ready to Throw Down with Megatron. But he just makes that deal to keep Harry safe and assures Harry that he’ll be okay with Optimus and Megs’ll be back soon. 

Harry is still distraught Megatron left him with strangers. But he’s there long enough to form those Autobot attachments, primarily with Ironhide, Ratchet and Jazz.

Ironhide doesn’t put him down much at all, even when Harry tries to hide it, he gets anxious all alone on the cot and much prefers the nook between pauldron and helm to cuddle in and listen to growly war stories and life lessons. He sleeps up there whenever possible too. Ironhide can tell all this and happily allows it, staying stock-still for hours and gently rousing him whenever Harry begins to have a nightmare about the dam.

Ironhide’s perception hasn’t logically changed much, but the way Harry behaves ticks every box to drive him into an overprotective rampage, to the point that humans aren’t allowed within thirty feet of him and even the tiniest whimper has him hovering like three thousand pounds of promised death over his charge. 

They bond the closest, to the point that Ironhide could plausibly replace Megatron as Harry’s imprinted guardian (but he doesn’t).

Jazz and Ratchet share tertiary ‘older brother’ type roles in Harry’s life. Jazz reads to him, plays games with him, and holds him when Ironhide can’t be there. His playful casualness helps keep Harry calm and gets him to open up, but its not something he responds to as successfully. Camaraderie is appreciated but not something an insecure five-year-old always understands.

Jazz gains the most points correcting Optimus’ treatment of him and handling any humans who get into the hanger before Ironhide does something drastic. Thinks that play up his aptitude as a parental figure and devotion to keeping him healthy and safe. 

Ratchet...he really needs Harry’s observational skills and willingness to shoulder some emotional weight in the relationship, unfair or not. Without the ability to deliver the reassurance Ratchet needs, in addition to possessing a much more fragile disposition himself, it can be difficult for Ratchet to interact with Harry. He keeps to himself when Harry doesn’t ask for him or need treatment and they read rejection in each other’s hesitance too often for Harry to pursue the affection fit to burst in Ratchet.

Ratchet would 100% die for him and is right up there with Ironhide as his most aggressive defender, but he isn’t a great source of comfort for Younger!Harry. He wins his points through being the best cuddler, hands down, and praising him most often. Soft moments when neither of them are shy or afraid are where they’re closest.

Optimus is weirdly like Bumblebee here. He has Harry clocked as infant but god knows that that’s supposed to mean. He doesn’t have a mode outside of Prime to switch to for Harry and the stumbling we see in PA is him doing his very best. He’s not dumb, he recognizes that Harry isn’t emotionally mature enough to be spoken to the way he might mistakenly speak to him in PA, but he doesn’t have any other words. There’s a lot of frustrated staring and helpless silences here. 

Jazz tries his best to gently encourage some softer interactions and Ironhide is raring to punish his Prime if he dares misstep with his sparkling charge, tensions stay a little high.

With Soundwave planning Harry’s extraction, it goes off almost without a hitch, no sparklings were bitten in the attempt at least. Thundercracker might actually die depending on the plan. He has the most experience out of the Decepticons with immature and young bots via his own casseticons and a paternal disposition under all his cool logic. So he’s bustling around like an expectant mother, training up all the other Cons in grueling exercises and curriculum to get them up to his standards of child rearing aptitude and childproofing the base.

Megatron really does appreciate some tangible, reliable instructions. He’d appreciate it even more if he wasn’t a little bit threatened by how confident and capable Soundwave is when interacting with Harry. Soundwave quickly becomes the second favorite- almost on par with Ironhide.

Barricade is terrified of Harry in that way twenty-somethings are terrified when married friends give them babies and then leave to do something. This is way too important and delicate for him and someone pleaserescuehimitsgettingcloserohmygod-

Thundercracker is much more cautious handling Harry. We haven’t gotten there yet in PA, but he’s kind of the fun uncle who definitely goads Harry into things partially to get under Meg’s skin. Not so when Harry is more openly vulnerable and clumsy, now we’ve got a little baby chick who needs to stay in his nest and be warm and safe. Gliding will happen much, much later. If ever.

Harry was affected by how the scientists treated him to the point of being intensely shy around friendly, good humans and flatly terrified of anyone else. Megatron hunted down every remaining SS agent with Soundwave’s help to finish the job for that.

Eventually, Harry would feel more secure and comfortable and would start wanting to be on the ground and playing with less parental bots instead of carried everywhere by his guardians, but that recovery is achieved at the Decepticon base after some weeks have passed.

Okay and I think that’s it! Thanks for asking!! I had probably too much fun...

[vampexx]

Just a thought..... **There are spoilers in case anyone’s still watchin’ out......

I have seen probably hundreds of theories floating around tumblr about MLB and season 3 and I just thought that I would throw in my own :) So, ok....

- Chloe......not gonna lie, I'm not surprised. I agree with those that say that she did good things for praise, attention and bragging rights. I do think that it was an attempt to continue being Queen Bee even though she was well aware that literally EVERYONE in Paris knew her identity, she obviously didn't care. She just wanted the fame. Could she still be redeemed? Sure, but...she's still got a long way to go and plenty of work to do, with that being said, the question is......is she willing to do the work even with the bee miraculous and the idolization of ladybug taken out of the equation? That idk, we'll see I guess.

- Fu......alright so......he's gone...... :'( Marinette is the guardian now, not that she's ready for it Lord knows lol but it is what it is at this point unfortunately. The thing with Fu is.....he would always preach about how LB and CN's identities need to be a secret when.....his girlfriend or whoever she is (I can't remember her name) knew he was the guardian, even offered for them both to use a miraculous in some flashback in an episode (that I also can't remember the name of, I think it was origins but idk) to escape danger and protect the miracle box. SO IF SHE CAN KNOW OF ALL PEOPLE, seemingly not being a miraculous holder herself, WHY THE HELL can't LB and CN know!? Kinda hypocritical tbh. Anyways, now that LB is the guardian, there is literally no one stopping her from saying I'm the guardian so I make the rules now but her being as honorable as she is, she still refuses. It would just be too easy I guess if LB came to the same conclusion as the fandom and said, "We knew Fu's identity for the sake of protecting him, and he knew ours in case of emergency (as displayed in Feast).....so then it would only make sense if we knew each others identity." And I'm not sure if they knew that Fu's girlfriend knew but....that just adds to my point, which is there really isn't a reason for them not to know, but like I said I guess it would be too easy that way. Maybe now that the temple is back along with the monks.....maybe they will be the ones standing in the way of the reveal, assuming all the other monks didn’t like what Fu did regarding people knowing their identity (his girlfriend) and are far more strict with the rules. Again, we'll see I guess.

- Alllllright.....*sigh*......Lovesquare/ Drama BS. OK so, look. This whole theory on Marinette moving on from Adrien and Chat Noir moving on from Ladybug.....in MY opinion.....it's BS. THREE SEASONS of you're the girl of my dreams and Mari's intense crush on Adrien, which even though she has gotten better when it comes to communicating and being around him, her crush is pretty extreme. HOWEVER, people seem to forget that when you're 14 or 15, a crush can easily get out of control because....well, hormones....like let's be real, yes it's intense AF but is it far fetched for a typical girl her age? NO, like come on ya'll, really? I feel like that's not really taken into consideration she's still young therefore still immature, and understandably so. Same thing goes for Adrien when it comes to Ladybug. He is obsessed too, maybe not to the same degree as Mari but still, pretty damn obsessed. And between Adrien and Marinette, things started out hella awkward in season 1, but compared to season 3, she HAS grown. THEY have grown. Closer and closer over the course of 3 seasons. Them and Ladynoir too so, obviously they're on the right track. Do they need to grow as individuals? HELL YES ok, that I agree with. Mari and Adrien need ME TIME though. I personally do not believe that they need someone else to come into their lives just to be used as means to get over someone else THAT WE ALL KNOW TOO WELL they aren’t gonna do. Like it has been said that in season 4, it will be decided who wins the Lukanette v. Adrinette war......and in order to continue with the whole made for each other/ soulmate plot, and in order to carry over to the movie (that supposed to be about Ladynoir and their love, it seems) I think between season 4 and 5, Lukanette will lose, (Sorry to all the shippers, no salt intended in this post). I also noticed that it was not mentioned that there will be a decided winner for ship war Adrigami v. Adrinette, at least not that I've heard nor seen, like the other rival ships. That leads me to believe that IF Adrigami happens at all dating wise, they're not gonna last very long at all, or at least not compared to Lukanette IF that happens either. Again no salt intended. In the movie previews that have been released, especially the song, it shows that Chat Noir/ Adrien is still pretty heavily in love with Ladybug. And Ladybug seems just as in love with Chat. Note how Chat/ Adrien says his heart is in a duel, meaning his heart is torn between Marinette and Ladybug, but Ladybug on the other hand, only really talks of patience rather than being torn like Chat which makes me think.....in the movie, DOES SHE KNOW?  Talking about eternal love.....without taking into consideration season 4 since obviously it won't start until next fall, I can only assume as of right now that those feelings of eternal love or whatever are pretty extreme to be feelings for Chat Noir alone. It would make sense to feel so intensely if she were to know that CN and Adrien (whom she would both equally love at that point) were the same person. That would make sense to me. Now, when it comes to the ice cream situation in miracle queen, I like to think, like a few others I have seen post on here, that it's referring to themselves as individuals....because like Pink and Blue for Mari makes sense......Green and Yellow for Adrien also makes sense.....(side note: how the hell does orange tie to Kagami, like why not strawberry or cherry?? Idk but ok......? Whatever). Anyways, that's how I see it. I may not be a big fan of Kagami (I personally don't get the appeal, but that's JUST ME) but she deserves better than being a plot device. Same thing goes for Luka, which he's ok in my opinion. Like, Kagami and Adrien have a bond that is irreplaceable as in they were both raised in similar circumstances, and when it comes to Adrien overcoming the consequences/ obstacles that come with that? That friendship is necessary. But I think that the both of them, ESPECIALLY Adrien, don't really know the differences between friendly love and romantic love, same for Luka and Mari....ok, well maybe not Luka but Mari? Yeah. Luka and Kagami deserve to have someone who loves them and only them, just like everybody else. It isn't fair to them that they be in relationships with people we all know that they want to be with, and for however long they may last, only be for the other person to come to a conclusion that they love someone else......so really in all honesty, it all seems so needless, unnecessary, and completely f'd up. I have heard people say that Marinette and Adrien need other people to move on, saying it's healthy but I for one have a hard time agreeing with that. How are you supposed to love someone else when you can't even BEGIN to learn to love yourself and put yourself first? I think that if they both came to the healthy and mature conclusion that they need to time to themselves, and put their mental and emotional needs first for a change, that it will open so many new doors for the both of them. Mari will embrace Luka's friendship and he will inspire and encourage the creative side of her and his calm/ chill demeanor will help her with her anxiety and she will gracefully come into her own and FINALLY OWN HER BEAUTIFUL SH**!!! As for Adrien, he will be more decisive and sure of himself. He will have a better understanding of what he wants thanks to Kagami who, I think, will guide him in that department. She'll help him be not so wishy-washy and encourage him to advocate for himself when Gabriel "Trash" Agreste does SOMETHING ELSE unjust or unfair to Adrien as means to micro-manage his life. And with that he will hopefully have less stress due to his hovering father and maybe loosen up and relax, showing his dorky/ funny/ CN side while Mari becomes more confident/ brave like LB. And let me say that maybe Adrien can help Kagami grow in return, I think we can all agree that she could benefit from better, friendlier social skills and also help her learn that you don't always win/ you aren't always #1, that's not how life works. Ok, now as for the lucky charm bracelets, the theories that have been spread around on tumblr speak for themselves, for instance the ice cream matching each others charms and the thing with the red string in which, I agree with all of those. 

- To sum up, Adrien and Marinette have some serious sh** to figure out. Especially with themselves. I would love to see them interact more on a real level which will lead to Adrien no longer being able to deny that he see's her as more than a friend. I wan't them to be so close because with shi** getting crazier around them, they need each other, with AND without the mask so that makes me think that the reveal will happen sooner rather than later. I want them to rely on each other more and more, as Adrinette and Ladynoir, and they have INDEED SHOWN that they can be a bada** power couple while knowing each others identities and COMPLETELY loving and trusting each other with NO wall and NO secrets holding them back. And yes, in all fairness, Lukanette, Adrigami & Ladynoir were all suggested in the (not my) finale, however all those ships cannot canonically stand. **deep, creepy narrator voice** Only one will survive (lol sry). I personally feel that season 4 can play out either way, either with them seeing other people or not, but in my opinion, them seeing other people would be sacrificing realism (because no one gets over not only their crush, but likely their first love, in the span of like a day or so...like c’mon) for dramatic purposes which in all fairness, would not be surprising to me at all but still. Either way, it will eventually lead to a reveal which I think is likely to happen in the movie rather than season 4, I think season 4 will be about Adrinette/ Ladynoir like usual but  strengthening emotionally and mentally with aid from Luka and Kagami (and if it happens my way, it would put them both in a more favorable position than just mere plot devices but hey, what do I know). This will likely lead to Marichat being primary ship in season 4 due to Adrien having a chance to fall in love with Marinette and not just LB, and Marinette falling in love with Chat and not just Adrien. Keep in mind that during this, Marinette's love for Adrien won't be gone while she falls for Chat, and likewise with Adrien, coming to love both LB and Marinette.  Leaving both of them conflicted, blushing messes in every corner in the love square LMAO IMAGINE THE MESS THEY’LL BE!!!!  NOW THAT'S THE DRAMA I LIVE FOR LOL and Lord knows Astruc is all about that drama ya'll LOL Maybe that’s the plot of the movie? The lovesquare imploding? LOL Sounds a perfect way to end the 3 season long drama if you ask me......

- Plus, Chloe thinks Luka's cute??? LMFAO OOOOOH SH**, It's going down, I'm yellin' timber ya'll LMAO uh oh

--sorry this was long <3 thanks for listening--

HAVE A MIRACULOUS DAY ;)

[reflectionsofacreator]

Not many caps for this one, but I do want to talk about the shit you can overhear while dressed up as one of the Janissaries. The actual getting of the costume is a bitch and a half because in order to do it fully synched, you have to be blended. That means either hiring a Romani group, or finding a bench to sit on. However the bench isn’t really a viable option, because you have to then hide the body in a haystack, so you have to carry it around. There’s also patrols around the entire area. I just about threw my controller in frustration before just giving up and sniping the guy from a rooftop. 

Ezio manages to find a Janissary patrol that takes him back to the barracks, and you get to listen to their conversations while they go about their business. Gonna put it under a cut cause I’m doing a bunch of quotes! 

Said business is ... Sigh. In order to not arouse suspicion, Ezio has to join in on beating up a civilian, knocking him out. The guy was just protesting the unfair treatment, and it sucks that Ezio had to, but like... he’s also on a mission, he kinda can’t save the guy like he normally does. Along the way though, the conversations you can overhear are really interesting. 

Guard One: Selim understand our plight. The Byzantines, the Mamluks, the Safavid. Only he has the courage to face these threats.  Guard Two: Haklisin (You speak the truth). Selim is a warrior. Like Osman and Mehmet.  One: So why has our Sultan chosen a cat over our lion. Ahmet shares the Sultan’s calm temperament. They are too much alike, I fear.  A bit later:  Two: Why does Ahmet linger in the city? He knows he is not wanted.  One: He is like a moth hovering around an open flame. Waiting for his father to perish so he may step on the throne.  Two: did you hear? He offered Tarik a sum of money in exchange for our loyalty.  One: God damn him. What did Tarik do? Two: He spent half the money on horse feed, and sent the rest to Selim!

Once Ezio gets inside the encampment, you can hear more conversations as the guards are having as they wind down for the day. 

Guard Three: Have you met Selim’s young son, Shehzade Suleiman?  Guard Four: Not personally, but I have seen him. I know he is a remarkable boy.  Three: Not a boy, but a capable young man. With a magnificent mind.  Four: Does he take after his father?  Three: Belki (perhaps). Though I suspect he is another sort of man altogether. 

Another conversation: 

Guard Five: Sultan Bayezid is a good man, and a kind Sultan... but he has lost the fire that made him great.  Guard Six: No no. He is still a fighter. Look at the army he has raised against Selim.  Five (scoffs): This is further evidence of his decline. To take up arms against his own son? Shameful Six: Evet, evet (yes, yes). But Selim did so for the glory of the Empire, not himself. 

Sorry, I know it’s a lot of block quotes, but like. I feel it’s important to get across what the Sultan’s personal guard and military feel about the warring of the royal family. These are also the guards that police the city of Constantinople, and you see them patrolling the streets constantly. This is a goldmine of information and gossip, as well as it gives a view of the political situation from outside -- by now, we’ve mostly dealt with Suleiman himself, not really anyone else and their views on it. 

Another important thing to note though -- while you’re walking through these barracks, you can also hear various snippets of conversation. While not usual, the ones that you overhear tend to veer towards corruption and the absolute power these guards have over the populace. We’ve already seen bits and pieces, from the Janissaries seizing merchant’s stocks, to them beating up civilians, but like. The few snippets of dialogue you can hear chilled me, because they were just so casual and commonplace? 

Guard (laughing): What’s got you in such a good mood? It’s been two hours into our patrol and you haven’t even killed anyone yet! 

Guard: Hey, if you’re bored, you could always investigate the money lender, while I inspect his wife! 

Like. Fuck. This is systematic and casual corruption, embedded into the very core of these people. Maybe it only hit me so hard because of the current political climate (the protests and riots, with the police brutality), but oof. I wanted nothing more than to just... toss down a smokebomb and kill them all.