#give me my morally grey mess

[meanqueens]

HOTD characters are so....toothless. Give them agency, give them pride, give them anger, give them ambition, give them passion, give them everything GOSH! I do believe that the young Rhaenyra had more spark than the old one but that's not because of Emma, it's the writing, like Rhaenyra lost her shine. I guess that's something that they are going to explore more next season during the Dance but I would have loved to see more of that. And I would have LOVED Alicent letting Viserys' body rot like in the book, for all the years of bitterness, abuse and neglect she had endured because of him. And why not murder him, that's what he deserve.

thank you for your ask!! just brainstorming, but perhaps it’s a similar situation as with the later GOT seasons: the writers are trying to fill in the blanks of what is essentially an outline, but they are not equipped to do so. perhaps the current HOTD team would be better suited to adapting a full novel rather than what is effectively a history book with conflicting narratives and a dash of actual characters. really i just want to see what went down in that writers’ room, like how did we get here? why did we decide to go the route that we went? grrm may have been involved, but this didn’t feel like a complete story of his. it didn’t feel like a complete story at all. and if we’re not here to tell a full story, then why are we here?

[avocado-writing]

Hi Avo! Could you please consider writing a protective poly logan and wade x reader? Maybe something happens they weren’t there but when they show up deadpool is distracting/comforting the reader and logan is going ham on the enemy. ploy or separate is up to you!

Just a thought! Enjoying your work as always! ✨anon

deadpool: look how I spell it “grey” because the writer is english! Crazy logan: what?

It’s Logan who sweeps you up. You know it is, because he’s a solid wall of a man under your hands where you’ve buried into him. His chest is warm and reassuring; you focus on it, trying to ground yourself even though you can taste your pulse thrumming in terror.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ve got you,” he mutters under his breath, a growl in your ear, a tender little secret of his softness shared between the two of you. 

It had all been so sudden. You’d been taking the shortcut home after going shopping for tonight’s dinner when you’d felt someone grab you. Tomatoes had rolled across the ground, cans denting loudly as they fell, and you’d been dragged towards the back of the van as your captors loudly discussed if they had the right person. They said something about you fucking two mutants, and the bile with which they had spat it chilled you. 

You’d been certain you were going to die. Cold fear flooded you, your eyes squeezed closed tight. Please, don’t let Logan and Wade find my body. They won’t be able to take it. If these guys are gonna kill me, let me just disappear. 

Then again, that was before the claws came through the metal of the roof and all hell had broken loose. Guns went off and you screamed, unsure if they were Wade’s or not - but strong arms had picked you up and hauled you to safety. 

You feel yourself being passed to someone else, Logan pushing you into Wade’s grip and giving him strict instructions to look after you, then he’s gone. The sounds of violence continue and, without thinking, you turn to look. 

“Oh, no, honey, you don't need to see that. That’s just… plain disgusting,” says Wade, grimacing, “even looking at this mess is better than seeing what Peanut’s doing to those guys.”

Upon the word ‘mess’, he gestures to himself. Despite your heart hammering against your ribs, you reach up to press your hand against his cheek. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Wade. You came to save me.”

A flit of confusion crosses his face, knocking his usual bravado. 

“You thought we’d just let them bundle you into their ‘not allowed within five hundred feet of schools’ van and disappear? Give us some credit. We’re not white knights, but we’re at least, y’know, morally grey knights.”

He says this to make you laugh, and it works. You’re distracted as the sounds of screams literally die out and Logan stalks back over. You see him removing his jacket to hide the blood on it from you. It’s still spread across his knuckles, though, a masterpiece of the revenge he just enacted. 

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t be bothering you again,” he says with an air of finality. His hand raises to cup your face, so gentle with you, such a contrast to moments before. His voice is laced with a tenderness when he asks, “you doing okay?”

You nod. Yeah. With them here, you are doing okay. 

“Thanks,” you manage, shakily, adrenaline leaving your body to give way to fat, rolling tears of relief. Not missing a beat, Wade looks Logan up and down. 

“Hey, there’s still some viscera on your shirt, Peanut. Maybe you should take that off, too?”

“Watch it, bub,” he growls, but you can tell his heart isn’t really in it. They’re both just thankful that you’re safe. 

Your heroes, both of them. Morally grey or otherwise.

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

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You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[jennastokesart]

🔥 Eris Vanserra - The Autumn Court Heir 🔥

🖤The shadows have spoken true 🖤

Behold, the magnanimous, the munificent. The merciful. Eris Vanserra 🍁

Okay I love him but it hurts to lie like that. I like Eris, to me he is more of what Rhysand tries to be. Truly morally grey. Would I trust him with my life? Hell no.

I really hope SJM develops his character more. When I read “Eris is a dreamer. But there are no stars in his world”. I’ll be honest, I cried a little. I hope SJM gives him his stars in future books. I also am praying overall that the Vanserra brothers do not just become a footnote in the story.

And for those staring at the absolute sex icon in the second image: I was streaming my screen to my friends on a call. What started from a simple “does his eye look right?” led to them art directing the entire thing with the repeated chant “we’re cookin”. This is what happens when non artsy men take over your drawing. I feel like Feyre, trying to draw with Azriel and Cassian peering over my shoulder with "suggestions"

I honestly suggest messing around like this because it fixed my art dysmorphia from staring at Eris too long. (Idk what led them to make him a pirate, though they did tell me to just put an eye patch to fix the whole eye dilemma). When I told them the eyepatch isn’t accurate to Eris, they really said “it should be, that’s why his brother looks cooler”.

Anyways~ I hope you guys enjoy 😉

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 1. Part 2 : When all had fallen

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally Grey Characters

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous Next >

You remember 2015 as if it was tattooed to your brain. This was the year when cracks had started to appear in the Mercedes motorhome.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was all victories and celebrations — through what appears to be years of dominance ahead. However, destruction and chaos loomed between the walls of the 2 garages. The dispute between the drivers is growing gnarly and what was supposed to be kept on track was seeping into the personal lives of the people involved.

Lewis and Nico were ready to slit each other’s throats when given the permission and command. Moreover, the management did not give a damn about the rapidly growing hostility, for as long as one of them won . No, Mercedes didn’t care. And you saw how it affected not only the drivers , but the entire pit.

A person cannot forget a lifetime’s worth of friendship that easily. You saw it with your own two eyes , how the loss of friendship killed a part of Lewis and all you could do was sit there and pull him close into your embrace.

Paranoia had started to claw its way into Lewis’ mind; wondering if his teammate and Mercedes were teaming up against him.

You could do nothing to help, because you were going through the same exact thing. Not as Lewis’ partner, but as his race engineer. You cannot lie to yourself, and most importantly you cannot lie to Lewis and say that no dirty cards were drawn — because you know for a fact that several team calls were given without your knowledge or permission that had led to losses and misjudgments. You cannot deny foul play … not when Monaco 2015 happened.

“Lewis, you have a 21-second gap on Rosberg. Tires are good, keep that pace” You radioed towards Lewis as you monitored the data on the car.

“Copy, what lap are we? “ Lewis radioed back

“Lap 64, Lap 64 of 78. Keep your head down, A race win is projected, I repeat, a race win is a project— RED FLAG, RED FLAG! ” Just as you were talking, the signal for a red flag had lit and you and your team were informed of a crash.

Quickly gathering the information, you rallied it towards Lewis.

“Slow the car down, Red Flag, Red Flag. A safety car is deployed. Lewis , lay low and keep those tyres warm” You mentally cursed as what appeared to be a 21-second advantage for Lewis was no longer there.

“What happened?” Lewis questioned

“Verstappen and Grosjean touched on turn 1. Verstappen is out. “ You echoed

“Fuck! My pace was good. Are they ok though? Who was at fault?”

“I will get back on that, the stewards are now discussing” you replied.

Your eyes were focused on the data that was on your screen when suddenly at the corner of your eye you saw an engineer discretely say something to Bonno.

A look of apprehension clouded his features. And he sent you a look of remorse as he pressed what seems to be your mic connection to Lewis’ car. Horror ate your entire being as you realized what was about to happen.

Before you could do anything else, Bonno had radioed to Lewis.

“BOX, BOX “

Your world froze entirely, as absolute terror gave you whiplash. Rage consumed you and you stood from your chair not caring for the mess you’re making as you made your way towards Bonno and gripping his polo forcefully towards your height.

“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!” You screamed at Him, now the other engineers tried to hold you back — but not before you could land a solid punch at him. Fuck HR, they could fire you for all you care.

You once again tried to claw at him, when you heard the confused voice of Lewis in your abandoned earphones.

Elbowing your way out of their grip, you placed the headset back on your head and reconnected to Lewis.

“ Y/N? Why did they tell me to box? Where were you? “ Lewis’ voice held so much confusion and doubt that it broke your heart.

“Lew, I - “

“ Y/N you said my tires were good. Why was told to box? Why am I boxing? “ Lewis countered before you could even answer.

You knew that Lewis had just lost his win. And you felt like it was somehow your fault.

“Lew … I'm sorry”

And just like that, Nico Rosberg had won the Grand Prix. While you lost the trust in every person in your motorhome and you gained contempt back.

After that incident, you had developed severe mistrust and it has led to nightmares and unhealthy amounts of alcohol. And only Lewis could break your cycle.

It was truly you and Lewis against everything. Or that was what you thought. Because , you didn’t know that Lewis has been fed false information about what happened, where everything was pinned on you.

Without your knowledge, Lewis’ trust in you had also formed a crack and doubt had nested itself in his heart.

No matter how coarse and dreadful , life still ensues and you are forced to move on — and continue with your life. Lewis had won another world championship.

It cant be denied that the prestige and glamour that the title brought has broadened opportunities for Lewis . Yet ,no one can argue that this has also broadened the target behind Lewis’ back.

And it had shown during 2016, Nico Rosberg was adamant about winning and he had done everything in his power to achieve his goal.

And painstakingly, Nico had won the title. Then not long after he announced his retirement.

Nico Rosberg has left Mercedes … and what did this mean for Lewis? Admittedly you were relieved by Nico’s exit; this meant the tension in the motorhome had been dissipated. You were no longer worried that the 2 Merc drivers were going to kill each other on track.

This meant, that you and Lewis could finally figure out what was between the two of you. You two could finally grow and develop your relationship. A relationship that wasn’t surrounded by anxiety and work . You could finally re-approach the promise that Lewis swore to you a year before.

He promised that he would rectify the contracts so that we didn’t need to stay in the shadows.

However, time continues to pass, days become weeks weeks become months and months become years.

It was now 2020, Lewis was experiencing what the title of Formula 1 Champion brought. He won another championship. And Lewis was living the life! And you had your moments too. You could proudly say that you are now a well sought after race engineer — with Race teams serving job offers left and right. But you have always declined , even if you so badly wanted to leave Mercedes… because you stayed where Lewis was.

4 years had passed, but you were still at the very beginning. You still waited for Lewis to make do his promise.

But as you gazed at him looking so alive and carefree as girls littered at his side while the music blasted in the bar.

The music was deafening,yet all you could hear was the pounding of your heart, as you felt the vile rush up to your mouth at the sight of your boyfriend holding another woman. And you could do nothing because to the world you were just his race engineer. Even after everything you sacrificed, you still cannot claim and shout to the world that Lewis Hamilton was yours.

Tears had started to drop from your eyes. As you felt the warm liquid run down your face , you felt a soft material in your hand. Looking down it was a handkerchief.

“ Pretty race engineers shouldn’t cry” A cold voice caught your attention, as you looked up to Blue cerulean eyes.

“Hi, We haven’t formally met. I’m Max” A smile graced his features, softening his usually cold appearance

“I don’t think we have. Well then, Hi Max! My name is Y/N. It is so nice to meet you”

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @itslagumi

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

[blueteller]

Greetings oh wise one! I come asking for advice/analysis.

How would you describe the type of chaos Cale starts? Like, is there a play by play of Cale’s usual migraine inducing shenanigans?

"Oh wise one" - that's a new one haha! I'll try my best for you~! 💖

In the past, I made short joke posts on Cale's typical step-by-step MO, like: "scam, loot, destroy", or "fight with overwhelming advantage, run, smack them in the back". And while those steps are hilarious and quite accurate – since you've asked for an analysis, let's dive a little deeper into the subject.

First of all, why is Cale's personal brand of chaos so enjoyable? Simple; it's because it's always targeted at people who 100% deserve it. Civilian casualties? Not an option with Cale in charge. This man takes his 10+ years zero casualties record completely seriously.

And no, there are no exceptions to this. While at first it might seem impossible – for example there were times when Cale and his group attacked buildings with servants in them or destroyed whole ships with crew on board – and it can make you wonder, weren't any innocent workers there? But no. If you look closely, any time there were any civilians involved (any people who weren't onto the whole murder and torture thing the bad guys were doing), Cale made sure to either capture, evacuate, or leave them alone. From the first heist with Choi Han when they freed Raon, to the Unranked Monster battle at Puzzle City, or heck even robbing the Sekka estate, they always made sure to not kill the civilians. Even with the battle ship, I'm 100% certain there were only armed people on board, prepared to be the ones who would murder civilians without hesitation. Cale left no chances of innocent people getting hurt.

That's what makes his MO so wonderful. Because Cale only screws over those who deserve it. Of course, Cale doesn't see it like that. From his perspective, what he's doing is "vicious", so he must be the bad guy. And while his MO is definitely ruthless… It only matches the weight of the crime of his opponents. Cale only gets involved and makes a s***show when he is really pissed off. And by pissed off, I specifically mean innocent people getting hurt. Because that's what it all comes down to, really. He can delude himself and claim he's doing it for profit, but there's nothing wrong with profiting off well done work. He never cheats his allies off their right rewards, either. Despite him being so chaotic with his actions, he... never actually does anything that crosses the line.

(Yeah you could try and argue that torture crosses the line, but uh… At least Cale never ordered torture for personal pleasure? The first time it was to help a child heal from their trauma, and every other times since it was to extract information from particularly nasty and stubborn murder cultists. It might be morally grey of me, but I don't believe it was wrong of him. That's a matter of personal opinion of course.)

So, the starting point is always Cale facing people who pissed him off through messing with innocents in some way.

It can't be some petty political squabble either, Cale doesn't mess with those – remember how he reacted when the King of Whipper Kingdom wanted to agree and give up 100,000 citizens of his country to Adin, just to save his own skin? Raon offered to loot the king's safe… and Cale totally could have done that out of pettiness? But Cale left it alone, because it never came to that. So yeah, Cale only messes with those who already hurt people on a large scale, not just crooks or cowards. Even the bandits who messed with the Super Rock Villa entrance, he just had the leader beat up and made them work for him – he even had them formally employed and educated. Which honestly, probably improved their living conditions drastically, now that I think about it. …Cale is such a freaking softie, I swear.

But we're going off track – Cale and his specific brand of "migraine inducing chaos", that's the main topic here.

First, Cale always gets information. Who are his opponents? What have they done? What kind of powers they have? What dirt does he have on them? Where is their money located? Stuff like that.

Next, there's the planning & preparation phase. However, we rarely see that part because of the "no repetition rule" of storytelling. The only time we ever see characters make plans and explain them to their allies is when things are about to go south. In case of TCF, we only ever find out what kind of plan Cale has is when either 1) it's already ongoing 2) something went wrong and Cale wonders how it happened, for example when Cale set up the trap for the White Star in the Dark Elf city.

Then, with a solid plan and allies all prepared, Cale infiltrates the combat zone. Be it Real Arm uniform, priest get-up, pretending to work for some unnamed scary higher-up; you get the idea. Even during open-field battles like the Maple Castle, Cale made sure to have multiple hidden assets and key players disguised. It's a very important part of his MO; making sure he and his allies are as safe as they can possibly be.

Once everybody deals with their designated obstacles, be it simple head smashing or straight up scamming his opponents, Cale loots stuff. Sometimes the looting comes before the combat for the element of surprise, but usually combat happens as a distraction for looting anyway. Naturally, this is the part Cale enjoys the most, because according to Cale's logic, nothing feels as good as pissing off the people who pissed you off first. Not to mention how money is extremely useful, and Cale whole deal is that he always makes sure to take full advantage of anything and everything he finds useful – be it people or treasures. Classic Cale behavior, really.

After the looting stage, here comes the destruction! This part gotta be Raon's favorite, as he's usually in charge of it. Considering how his first destruction spree happened without Cale's input – the cave he was trapped in – I think it's a natural draconic trait lol. Everything that cannot be looted and can be still useful to the enemies must be demolished, that's the rule. After all, the revenge can only be complete when the enemies are left totally furious and powerless.

As for clean-up… pfff, what clean-up? Cale doesn't do clean up! That's the job for the janitor- I mean his dear Hyung-nim 🤣 I bet it's Cale second favorite part about making a huge mess; that he doesn't have to clean it up himself thanks to Alberu hahaha

So, a general play-by-play of Cale's chaotic shenanigans goes something like this:

Cale finds out there are troublemakers "messing up his slacker life", aka. people are getting hurt and his soft, squishy heart cannot ignore it

he gathers his team, info and gets down to planning

cue in hilarious scamming and Mission Impossible flavored undercover shenanigans

looting for fun and profit

destruction mostly for fun but also profit

when things go awry, Cale gets to overuse his Ancient Powers and spill blood like chocolate fountain spills chocolate at fancy events, it's just the same never-ending cycle really 🤣

retreat if necessary, but that rarely happens (I think couple of times throughout the whole series, really)

the enemies are left furious and/or utterly defeated

Cale's fam is left generally more worried over Cale being reckless again, than whatever epic chaos is going on around them, causing lots of delightful misunderstandings and comedic moments as a result

Alberu Crossman gets a headache once again

…aaaand that about sums it up! 💖

[queer-reader-07]

you know what i think really gets me as a good omens fan who also grew up catholic? the very human approach it takes to morality.

i can’t speak for every denomination of christianity, but i can speak to catholicism. i grew up in the church, i went to catholic school, i was confirmed for fuck’s sake. i know the catholic church. the ways in which it eats away at your self esteem. the ways in which it makes you feel like you are a terrible person because you’ve sinned in one way or another. the way you’re taught the concept of original sin as though it isn’t deeply unsettling to believe that all humans are born corrupt. you’re taught that you were born tainted by satan, you as a baby you as a child you who doesn’t even know your place in this world yet. you are sinful because you are human.

there is no room for shades of grey in catholicism. you have either sinned or you haven’t. you are either good or you are bad. you are either going to heaven or you are cursed to damnation. (yeah yeah purgatory and all that but if i’m being honest the diocese i was a part of never really talked about it)

we all know the church is corrupt. every catholic knows that, but whether or not we ever admitted it to ourselves and accepted it as truth is another story. you cannot deny the staggering statistics regarding catholic priests assaulting and molesting children. you cannot deny the financial corruption that has been present in the institution for centuries. but you can ignore it. you can ignore it and pretend like the church is perfect and good because if you allow yourself to admit it’s issues, you admit that maybe your entire world view is flawed. that maybe the idea of morality as being black and white is wrong.

that's what i grew up with. with these contradictory beliefs. these adults in power telling me i was inherently sinful because i was human while also being told that God loves me. that God will save me from myself. so i grew up thinking someone else could fix me. because if i was inherently bad i couldn't fix myself.

but of course, the truth is, i don't need fixing. i'm not broken or bad. i'm human.

when aziraphale described adam as "human incarnate" i got EXTREMELY emotional. because to be human incarnate is to be not good or bad. it's to just be. be whoever it is you are. make the best choices you can. will they all be perfect? of course not. but will you be trying your damndest? yes.

good omens is a breath of fresh air for me and my religious trauma because the thesis of the story is that black and white thinking is unproductive at best and actively harmful at worst. you cannot live a fulfilling life while also believing there is only Bad and Good, and that Bad and Good are inherent.

good omens is a comfort because it reminds me in more ways than one that i'm worthy of love. i'm worthy of life. i don't have to be perfect, far from it. i'm allowed to be messy and make mistakes, but none of that means i don't deserve to be here. none of that means i'm a Bad Person. i'm just, A Person.

i'm trying. i've always tried. tried to love the best i can, tried to be the best person i can be, tried to live my life to the fullest, tried to cultivate joy for myself.

my brain is a mess. and 15 years, give or take, of being fully immersed in the catholic church (including 7 years of catholic school) definitely didn't help. i am still riddled with catholic guilt and toxic mental frameworks because of the time i spent in the church.

but good omens helps me work through it just that little bit more. it's there in its corner of my heart saying "hey. you're human. you're not Bad or Good, you're You. and you're trying."

it's... comforting. yeah, i think that's the right word.

[absolutebl]

What to watch after Pit Babe? Thai BL Actor Guide

So you loved Pit Babe and you wanna see your favorite BL boy in his old series? But should you?

Here's a guide...

Babe AKA Pavel - 2 Moons 2

Pavel is one of my favorite actors in BL (he's this blog's icon for a reason) and actually 2 Moons 2 is pretty good, primarily because of his character, Forth. Who has an actual character evolution and growth arc... in a BL!

Amazing.

Don't be fooled 2 Moons 2 is a reboot and extension of 2 Moons, not a spin off. So you don't have to have watched the first iteration, in fact I recommend against it.

Anygay, the main couple of 2M2 is naff, but Forth is great and Pavel is great as that character. He has good chemistry with his pairing, and as a BL fan it's not a bad idea to know your 2 Moon's roots. 2 Moons is one of the most popular Y-novels ever written, one of the most popular shows of it's time, and the perpetuator of many Thai BL tropes.

Pavel's second BL, Coffee Melody, is not worth watching.

If Babe was your favorite character, and Babe & Charlie a pairing you enjoy, I would suggest Big Dragon as your next BL. Same vibes, high heat, chaotic. Another possibility is the slightly lower heat but stil unhinged Laws of Attraction.

You also might like some stuff out of Taiwan. They tend to have the angst + high heat + sappy softness that characterized Charlie + Babe.

Way AKA Nut - Oxygen

Nut is way different in his previous rolls, as the lead in both Oxygen, and Something in My Room. Same gorgeous voice and soulful eyes and Nut tends to play sensitive torn characters but the similarities end there.

In Oxygen, his acting is stiff. In fact, Oxygen as a whole is pretty stiff. I like it very much and it is a big comfort watch for me because of it's smooth peaceful softness, but it's flawed, slow and awkward. I did an episode by episode thing for that show (my first watch along).

In his second BL, Something in My Room, Nut demonstrates improved acting and chemistry, but I don't recommend it. It's a touch of horror, built on the "my ghost boyfriend" trope, and it's quite sad.

So try Oxygen but if what you're after is more BL with a Way-like main character then I would recommend Moonlight Chicken or The Eclipse chewy BL with sensitive boys and some grey morality.

Jeff AKA Pon - Starhunter Talent

Pon was with Starhunter before this and so has appearances in several of their BLs. He's demonstrated great natural acting talent, charisma, and good chemistry with all his pairs but because he often appeared in chaotic ensemble pieces has been easily forgotten (including by me). Starhunter chronically underused him but also utterly miss-applied him.

Gen Y 2 is actually a master class in flawed casting. They put Pon into a triangle, where he plays a fated mate pining uke against a very stiff lead pair - but they expected us not to want him to be end game. Big mistake. Watch this mess if you just want to see how a good actor can eat up all the air of a bad pair, winning hearts and influencing fans.

Otherwise the Gen Y series is a bloated mess, and I can't recommend them. I trashed watched so you don't have too. While Pon demonstrates skills against a backdrop of ranging tallent, oddball story, and chaotic outcomes I wouldn't have bothered if not for the dumpster fire.

Pon's first BL is The Moment, and he's good in it, but it's a terrible show. Boring and plotless.

He's fantastic in Make A Wish but only a side part (despite what is said in MDL) and his arc is VERY sad. Still it's a GREAT under appreciated BL, I recommend it as the one to watch if you have to see Pon in something else. It's nothing like Pit Babe though.

Yeah our pathway for Pon ends here, so lets look, instead, at

Alan & Jeff - Bed Friend

This was Sailub's first BL role, and I speak for all of us when I say... more please.

So instead of a watching a pathway for him, I'm gonna give you a few BL suggestions based on the assumption that this side couple was your favorite from this series (as it was mine).

What we had with this pairing was

older sensitive sweetheart sunshine seme + tortured dark scared tsundere uke.

FUN dynamic! Here are some options where this style took center stage:

Bed Friend

Between Us

Love By Chance (AePete only)

Triage

Tokyo in April is

I Became the Main Role of a BL

Pete & Kenta - Word of Honor

Ah you like your boys troubled with money, questionable morals, and the slight inclination to pick at their fingernails with a knife?

Neither Garfield nor Ping have done other BLs but here are my picks for BLs that feature this kind of character and dynamic, and we are leaving Thailand for these (since it's darker territory than Thailand usually handles... well).

HIStory 3: Trapped 

Long Time No See 

Irresistible Love

Word of Honor

Where Your Eyes Linger

Other familiar faces

NORTH AKA Michael

North played by Michael was our big comedy insert for this show.

But all his roles prior to this were very serious. Till the World Ends and Call It What You Want are practically depressing, even his role in Oxygen is pretty dark. He actually has been in BL a very long time, he was one of Noh's friends in Love Sick at just 18. Frankly, that'd waht you should watch if you are gonna watch any of his back catelogue, but it's NOTHING like Pit Babe or his role in it, still it's the beginning of Thai BL and Noh is a little sunshine of chaos, and it's great so...

Where was I?

If you really want a comedic himbo lead character there are are quite a few out there, and it's a crazy playing field because Japan is in it to win it.

Leaving aside high school stuff, here are some options:

Cherry Magic (Japan)

Ossan’s Love 

Mr Unlucky Can Only Kiss

Love Tractor

Bad Buddy

Love Stage!!

My Day

History 4: Close to You

KIM AKA Benz

Benz who played Kim has also done BL before, En of Love: This Is Love Story, but it is not good and not worth watching.

While I want the queer Falling Into Your Smile or Love O2O or Appledog more than anything, that doesn't exist. We have yet to have a true gaymer BL. (I mean come on, nerdy queer is practically a stereotype at this point, where is it?)

All of which is to say if Kim was your favorite... I don't know. Our Dating Sim maybe Semantic Error?

WINNER AKA Pop

Pop has lead out a BL, it's a very slow, very queer, very unwatched piece called La Cuisine.

@heretherebedork and I loved it, but it's hard to imagine anyone else enjoying it. You have to be a hard BL stan to tolerate the pace and pulp quality of that one. He's a completely different character but if you really like the actor try him in La Cuisine, I think he was better cast for that than Pit Babe.

I just enjoyed the show in general, what's next?

In general, if you really enjoyed Pit Babe itself as a series (and it's multiple couples and chaotic noise and erratic concept) you're in the KinnPorsche camp of Thai BL. I actually made a "watch next" pathways and rating guide for that show, which might work for you.

Specifically I would say Manner of Death. It's a little more focused in character and plot but still a wild ride. And MaxTul are the Kings for a reason.

You might also try Not Me, Never Let Me Go, and 3 Will Be Free although all of these, coming from GMMTV, are lower heat levels than Pit Babe.

Finally, seriously, try The Sign. I know it was airing "in competition" but there is room in your heart for both shows. I promise. They have the same wild sexy energy, and are loads of fun.

(source)

[overtaken-stream]

Where On3 Will St4nd

King The Wildfire x F!Lunarian!Reader

100+ Followers Special!! I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE SUPPORT!! <3 (This was posted so late oml) This bad boy has been cooking in my drafts for close to a year and a half it feels like, it is very much burnt to a crisp. Thank you anon who asked me about King meeting another of his race! This would not be here without you <3

Also, sorry for the grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.

word count: 8.9k

Warnings: incorrect cultural description(?)/practices(?), Self-harm(Burns), Imprisonment, Timeline is a mess don't come at me.

( The Land of a Demon )

Onigashima is an intimidating island; the smell of ash penetrates every corner of the scene where a battlefield will unfold. There are no flowers to add color to the brown mud and grey rocks, no snowflakes to grace the island or land on the red mist. The only thriving presence is the skull, where the fire emanates—the lair of a wrongdoer rotting and resting in this sinful place.

The skull, or rather, the rock resembling a creature much like the one on Thriller Bark—Oars, to be exact—was its name. But even he, the Junior, paled in comparison to the Skull Dome. No human could have sculpted it; giants, maybe, but even then, there are doubts.

It was formidable for you to step into the den of a beast earlier than expected, where you would be alone and defenseless. The dreadful aura the place is emitting is fitting for an Emperor of the sea. The deeper you went, the lighter you felt, the fearsome and overwhelming feeling was replaced by the intimidating, and may I say, strict walls you can find in the Wano Kuni, or the Flower Capital to be more exact, the only thing Onigashima lacks is the malnourishment that comes with Shoguns' rule, the exhausted faces of workers, the food prices and the dirtied outskirts. The separation of morals between the Wano Kuni and Onigashima shows clearly in the environment, it's like stepping into a completely different world, detached by the innocent victims who got birthed in this tangle of knotted rope, a mess, a sculptor done masterfully by manipulators of different social hierarchies. It's an art piece that took lives. A work in progress.

Their happiness depends on us. The ones who took it in the first place. The pirates.

We are the only people who bleed flames and light up the shadowed space that is Wano.

Soon.

...Soon.

After the worrying incident of the crew splitting apart yet again to get Sanji back and despite your worries for the polite cook- you were among the majority who continued traveling toward Wano. The plan was for you to become a Geisha working alongside Robin to get selected by the Shogun, but at last, the paths split and here you were in the den of beasts.

There was little chance of concealing your true identity in Wano; the absence of hair dyes posed a challenge. However, with strategic tying, the Obi belt effectively concealed the main factors that could give you away. The uncomfortable sensation is so familiar that you've learned to master not showing the everlasting pain on your face. The lightened makeup applied by the elderly further masks your skin, with red lips complementing your Obi and velvety gloves. The black hue of your flower kimono, snug tightly to your legs, hinders your pace, restraining you from keeping up with other women who, despite being more nervous, are less experienced in the field of treachery. Tonight, it will be challenging to differentiate professionals from novices, and you vow to take advantage.

The occasionally beautiful scenery inside the castle fails to comfort you amidst the fast-beating hearts; it is unsettling. The empty halls, guided by one of Kaido's puppets, make everyone dizzy with the maze-like walls—plain, hard to remember its turns.

In what way did the he turn last time?

The candles dwindle in plain sight as the floor creaks, accommodating the heavy steps of someone on the other side of the hallway. The sound becomes more vivid as it picks up pace, running past your group from the other side of the wall, capturing the attention of a soldier who turns and continues guiding with an anxious face.

It's only when the others, approximately ten pairs of feet, follow suit that you realize the commotion beside the separation. Judging by the soldier's expression, it seems to be a normal occurrence. However, you do not halt your steps; you continue to motionlessly follow, much like a sheep. It turns out the other women have the same idea.

There's an Oni free of its cage.

Debris falls from the shaking ceiling onto your shoulders. You wipe the black fabric clean, huffing as you quicken your pace, gently pushing the ladies to make way. The man, with spiky brown hair, takes another turn to the right this time.

``Sir, how far are you going to make us walk? Do you want us to be gasping for breath when we entertain our customers?`` You ask in a monotone voice, the impatience underlines your words, while your facial expression is the same as the one you entered with.

The soldier angles his neck to look up at you before his expression turns sour.

Lazy sons of bitches are too tired to answer a simple question. Tsk.

Your eye twitches as you await his answer. Not minding the spooked expressions of the ladies.

``Just above this floor.``

You only take your eyes off of him when the dark wood stairs come into view. It's been twenty years since the Beast Pirates invaded Wano Kuni and the history of Onigashima, they left a mark that will be impossible to remove. The residue of red that has maintained its place on the stairs is proof of that, who knows how many more illicit and barbaric things this place... This Country has witnessed. Who knows how many more will be lost.

Yet, people ignore it for their safety, geisha act no differently, even if they feel the warmth of a body no longer on the bottom of their okobo, they don't look down. For their security. Though you seem to be unable to look up, whoever the unfortunate victim was, you wish them a peaceful afterlife.

You hold in what anger you have, clenching your fists onto the sides of your kimono. There will come a time for you to spill it.

Soon.

...Soon.

A dreadful feeling emanates within the group, snapping you out of your daydreams. You didn't mean to get lost in your head, but the moment you let the fabric loose, the double door opens, and the women hurry their way to spots alongside every wall, unhappiness settling in their guts. They put their knees onto the soft purple cushions. Your eyes travel over the shamisen lying beside the cushion you were supposed to rest on. The three-stringed instrument you pick up seems to be brand new—unused and unprepared. However, even as you fix the strings, you feel relieved. Kyo Mai is a slow dance with complicated steps, and your confined wings always disturb your enactment. You were supposed to play the instrument and stay hidden among the performers, even with your snow-white hair and height.

The door opens right after everybody picks up their fans, you hid away in the background with the shamisen now in the proper hold.

(Away from the intimidating aura the girls seem to be spooked of. They don't break under the pressure. They repeat what was practiced.)

Here they come.

The All-Stars.

( Eyes That Follow )

From the three goliaths that were sitting and having an exchange, you've decided that Queen was the worst out of all of them. His immense and twisted pride shows even during his interactions with the women currently swarming his sides, the sadism that chokes the air out of every woman doesn't reach the beasts.

He calls it... “Flirting” it's not obvious to the naked eye but the girls feel uncomfortable, even when they smile, you can tell. It's for survival they smile. It's for survival they nod their heads as Queen throws compliments at a woman who isn't here. Komurasaki.

You feel sorry for the girl, to have Queen captivated was horrifying. You hold hope that Komurasaki will never meet him in person, even as your eyes continue to wander over Queen, for he, even if the filthiest of the All-Stars, was the most social one. A star scientist. It's when Queen starts practicing his singing talent that one of them calls.

``Oi.``

You straighten up. From on top Jack, The Drought looks down at you.

``Could you start the music already?`` His unreacting eyes only leave your face when you answer with an apology. It was obvious he was trying to silence Queen.

As you pull the shamisen closer to your body, you can hear the blond's offended complaints soon be replaced by the excitement when he realizes the Geishas' standings.

``Well, aren't you a beauty with white hair of yours, musician? Though no one will beat my Komurasaki! That bastard Shogun! Such a shame.``

You aren't sure what he pulls out of his pocket—a paper of some kind? A picture. You thought maybe some information would leak out of their mouths, yet the only conversations you hear are Queen's complaints and praises towards the women. Lost in your own mind, studies continue to mix. Is Kaido awarding his men before the festival? It seems unlikely, but unfortunately, that might be the case.

As you begin the melody of "Crane Wedding," there isn't another noise except Queen's malicious giggles interrupting you. That is until the sounds of squeaking leather picks up in the trapped room. You fix your eyes on the instrument while somebody else's eyes drill into your face, past your cosmetics and the flawless kimono. They don't move from your face; in fact, you might even think they are staring past your soul. You can feel their eyes travel to your neck, covered by the geisha's makeup. They stare, and you don't dare to look up meet meet them.

The pleasant music of yours doesn't halt as a geisha brings in the food, throwing a quick and nervous glance your way, but soon she too turns towards one of the three men who called her, leaving you alone with that crushing stare. The time stretches along with the performance; the short melody now feels like a loop of endless tactics put together. Lovely notes turn into a disgusting mess of mud inside your mind, plugging your ears and forcing you to hear the way your heart speeds up, noticing his eyes cling onto the darker color not peeking from under the makeup. You're nervous, as are the dancing geisha, whose only audience is Queen at this point. It's soon when the second, heavy pair of eyes turn towards you, but this one is much quicker to leave you be.

That must have been Jack.

King. He's the one that continues to stare.

The corner of your lips twitches after the realization. You try to keep away from falling and dissecting below his gaze. It lasts even after the dance was finished, his red eyes hold you hostage for the most part, even when you get up and do what your teacher, a sweet old lady has taught you.

It's fear, not of him, but rather afraid of him finding out what no outsider should know.

It's doubt, he is doubting you. Suspecting you, yet he asks no question. He only stares you down like a predator when you finally meet his crimson eyes. Your (E/C) eyes reflect his fully leathered top half.

You aren't afraid of him, no you can't be, you've faced many opponents in your 25 years of living, and you've gone through the suffering even the strongest men cannot withstand.

You are a Straw hat.

You are part of a future Pirate Kings crew. You cannot be intimidated by a mere second in command. You hold your head up high.

It turns out to be the right action that causes him to back down slowly, surely you are let go from the muddy waters.

( Eye to Eye )

The sunrise began as Jack got up, and soon Queen followed him. After his callouts to King, who threw an audible shut-up in his way but did not move from the spot he was standing, Queen wasn't convinced until Jack bulldozed through the door opening and intentionally dragged Queen out of the way.

The poker face you've kept up so far slips when King calls every woman out of the room except you. You can feel Haki building its way through your veins, but you don't jump to conclusions, even as he gets closer to you with a towering height difference, his latex and bands stay unmelted when the fire on his back explodes, little sparks jumping towards you, who is by now trapped between the wall and the giant. You can feel the hot sparks on your clothing land and extinguish themselves, The conclusion is slow beneath his red eyes that are staring at you so angrily, any other emotion so hard to read beneath the mask that thoroughly covers every part of his body, the folded black wings are no exception.

Besides blocking your means of escape, he has yet to do anything physically, the temperature in the room rises with how fast the heat is produced on his back. The fire is so familiar you might even get lost in it, in the old times, when fewer shit stains were roaming the planet. It makes you sweat underneath all the tight clothes you're wearing, especially on your back where the wings have started to ruffle, trying to let some air into its layers to no avail.

You wish you had talent in observation haki to determine what he was going to do next.

You flinch when his right arm raises from where it slept beside his thighs, it slowly gets closer to your frozen form, even if you try to lean away, there is no point, you realize. You are tall, but as both of you stand beside each other, He towers over you, but his intention isn't to intimidate you. The instinct is your strong suit and your weakest point.

You can feel the leather wipe away at your excessive makeup, from your cheek to your platysma his hand travels with a heavy heart on its sleeve.

If King was anyone other than King, you would have slapped it away.

If only he didn't share traits you are so familiar with.

If only you didn't share traits he is so familiar with.

You can feel the cosmetics dragging and staining his gloves, wiping away half of your disguise easily, thanks to the heat, he keeps a note of your half-disguised face with calculating... Wide eyes. The other half of your face, one that stayed untouched, must be melting.

It's the shaky puffs of air released from his mask that gives him away, the sudden rise in temperature in an already hot room, it must almost be 40°C, yet he does not budge.

Is he relieved...? Enthusiastic much...?

Not a word is said when he takes his arm away, now covered in white. You can see the way the pupils shake, you are sure he can see yours too, the furrowed brows and slightly parted lips of yours must be a giveaway.

The wings.

The eternal inferno.

A laugh escapes in the room-turned-oven, a nervous laugh of a feminine voice. You must be in shock to have fallen so low. Not even trying are you?

In a world that ought to hunt your kind down, to exterminate the past, the world that succeeded in destroying your kind, you don't feel alone. Or... You will no longer.

In the fervor, the mask comes off, leaving his sweat-covered face uncovered for you to see.

(``What tells that you are the only survivor?`` King used to ask himself back in his younger years before he made it clear how erroneous that question was, not to mention unlikely. It a proof of his childish innocence and the improvement. If more of his kind existed, they would be in the hands of the Government, doing god knows what to them. It always made the locked space of memories in his subconscious bubble up and boil over in quiet rages and liquor-companied nights. As he looks at your somewhat clean face, he is comforted by the pitiless thought that, by some luck, someone else managed to survive the hell he also went through. He wishes he could feel at ease, but he has to be sure. He has to eliminate every doubt in his mind.)

It's not out of intimacy and lust that he asks an inappropriate question to your calmed self about stripping. The surprised look in your eyes indicates a misunderstanding of his intentions. It's only mutual trust that guides him to do what he does next. Slowly but surely, he tries to pull his mask off, letting the tight piece tug at his scalp as he sets his hair free. Only when the temperature doesn't change, even when his skin feels the air, does he let the fire return to its original size.

King The Wildfire, only looks down at your complicated emotions. Even if he does not remember the company of his people, he would truly be a fool not to recognize his own biology. Though he doesn't hold onto hope, suspicion still lingers in his red eyes. It differs from your beaming laugh full of shallow happiness, representing more of a nervous tick than anything. It's been so long since he has heard a laugh not accompanied by sadistic undertones—exploiter gifters who dared to approach him—and the liquor Kaido keeps so close during his episodes.

``... I apologize for the heat."

You smile with somewhat shocked eyes looking up at him. ``...You know, it's been a while since I've felt the excitement of my kind.`` a nervous sigh you let out lead the conversation.

`` you don't have to apologize.``

``Yes... I-`` He has forgotten many unique reflexes with time. For this instance, it doesn't pains him. Every day he forgets what distinguishes the instincts of Lunarians, for he feels less of his kind.

He counts it as a sin, a shameful part of adulting, a side effect of having to live among the likes of Kaido's men, therefore his choice.

You acknowledge his position with his back turned to the door, sitting down cross-legged as he mentions for you to do the same. You obey, his wings hovering over you and hiding your figure from the outside world.

He asks once more to turn your back to him. You try to find any joke to fit in the thick air of nervous glances, but you find none. The unconscious mutual loyalty the both of you have towards one another is born by the shared traits, of family. Of shared pain.

You take the Obi belt in your hands and off of your waist.

He has many questions he cannot get out of his mouth, but for now, he keeps quiet. He is sure you have no intention of reliving the hell on earth that is the past.

You turn your back to a beast with the pattern of a face on its back.

As you take the black fabric of your kimono off, layer by layer the cold bites at your wet body, and the salty smell lets out into the heated air, though none of you care for the odor. You drop the kimono just below your belly button and let the relief that comes with letting your wings flex and take hold.

With a fast-beating heart, King watches.

It's in a haze that he reaches out to your back, his fingers connecting to the shoulders where the wings come from, sending a shiver down your sweat-covered spine, they're smaller he thinks, more fragile than him, though there is no difference in the power of flame and healing when it comes to genders. She could make them bigger when required. They aren't fragile, they are as powerful as his, but the size difference makes it easy to tickle his instincts, long forgotten and left in the past, starving for attention. His hands run over your coracoid, trying to find the place where the feathers meet the skin, attempting to find the evidence that you are real.

He barely hears your name, caught in the view of the wings turning from black to dark blue at different angles. Though he doesn't answer, he has already shown you enough of himself, it is no longer essential. King will do just fine.

The wings are erogenous, however, even if you shiver under the sensitive touches, no lust taints the special moment between the survivors.

``(Y/N).`` you spell out your name.

By instinct, his fire becomes ablaze when his hand sneaks up your humerus, lingering touches ruffling your feathers as the fire licks at your ungroomed wing. It lights the reflective white strands of hair that escaped from Geiko Shimada. The warmth on your back is comforting to the point where you lean your wings into it. Finally, you light the eternal flame, his hand engulfed in your flames goes undamaged. It extracts and attracts the fire from his hand into the center of your spine, causing the fire to grow and spread onto your wing feathers.

Looking back you're met with what you would call, a confused face of King whose features have been caught in the yellow glow of a fire that you are able to control.

King only stares at your almost nude form with a wrinkle of thought between his eyebrows.

( Guard )

In the way King shelters you, with him beside you and you hidden in the massive wing as he walks into his chambers, you would be wrong if you said you aren't anxious. Happy but skeptical. You doubt he'll hurt you, but the mask locking away his facial structures works as an intimidation factor.

The click of a lock on his door is the only sound that disturbs the silence. Now you are in his territory, his nest.

``King?`` you turn around to look at him.

``Where did you come from.`` It's scary how quickly and unnoticeably he changes his mood. But it is probably because the enthusiasm has passed and questions have started to surface, what you thought to be a nice welcome, turns into icy bars locking you out of your getaway, just like earlier. His red eyes leave a permanent mark on your (E/C) ones.

Where did you come from. that's not a question. Questions don't make you feel as if the warmth has left your body and sent shivers down your spine. They don't drag you down the lone caves and lock up your respiratory system.

Questions aren't meant to stop time. But the way both of you aren't moving, they might as well.

You have to be careful with every word and syllable you mutter. ``I've come fro-``

``How are you alive.``

``I-``

You barely have time to finish your answers before he's asking another one, slowly he steps toward you. In the dark, his leather shines, but as you take another step back you cannot help but glance at his wings. How the moonlight seems to bend with each curve of his feathers, sinking into the crevices and lightening them up in a blue hue, similar to you, but unlike the yellow glow, King's replaced by the white. You can't help but be deprived.

There is only one sentence that is louder than the rumble coming from within him. The declaration you acknowledge within all the noise clogging your ears.

You don't feel the suffocation of this situation, nor do you hear King's voice anymore. The pressure (Despite the windows being open) comes from the claustrophobic chamber. Your wings stay close to your back. The masked face looks down on your kimono, his pupils have seemed to freeze on your form, and the angry aura that he emits is all but a facade of defense. His jaw is moving but all you can hear is a rumble that pours out deep from his chest, it's incredibly loud yet deaf to the ears of normal humans, the volume that should shake walls only quiver your brain.

The moonlight seems to cage you in, showing your footsteps to a starved predator, it's the devil's eye that replaces the moon, with red pupils that stare you down. He overshadows your form, sending warnings throughout your system-

The possessiveness only sends shivers down your spine.

(Fight or flight?)

From somewhere far away, a boy with a straw hat on his face lifts his head from where it's laying in a hammock, letting the yellow straws that are incapable of being split slowly drop onto his bandaged chest. The rough feel of the same material wraps around his forehead trapping a few black strands of hair with it.

He grumbles, the ache in his limbs starting to become much more obvious, with half-lidded eyes Luffy looks up from the opening of the hammock, letting his head peek over at the sleeping skeleton currently knocked out in the same way Luffy was supposed to be.

Something's happening.

He is sure of it, but with grogginess biting away his consciousness, he has no energy left to chase after that feeling, he turns his stiff body the other way, peeking from the left he comes face to face with the man who is a family member in all but blood, who he got back just a few hours ago.

He smiles and lies back down, from the position he is in, a window the size of his head stays open, it shows the moon and the stars twinkling their way into existence.

He wonders what others must be up to, are they watching the moon with him? Basking in its glow like a tiger?

He hates that he has to keep them waiting, but it was necessary.

Soon.

...Soon he'll be there.

Wait for him... A little more!-

( Domain )

There's something cataclysmic lurking in the walls of his chambers, causing your ears to bleed. The shackles rattle loudly next to your helix as you scratch at your ear, only making the headache worse. The heavy pull of sea stone brings down your mood. Rough exterior already leaving its mark on your hands

The mirror rests across the bed, compelling the disheveled mess of yourself to face the view. Hair strands fall on the sides of your face, greasy with gel, and your face—oh God, your face—appears smudged, as if the color is melting away. The swollen eyes that signal a newly awakened person squint to see your reflection.

The clothes are still on your body despite being passed out on the enormous bed of a murderer, a killer, and a tyrant's sidekick last night. Another ridiculous error to add to the imaginary board.

Back when King unleashed the color of the Supreme King on your cornered self you didn't dare fight back, and the shackles were here in the form of consequence to your conclusion.

The room was dark, with the only source of light being the window next to the mirror. The bars on the outside really make you feel at home. The decor set a scene suggesting no man had ever lived there. Occasional scratches marked the floor, and the specially modified bed, along with what you could only guess was a closet, were all tailored to fit his taste. Gothic undertones and a taste reminiscent of some old king's private quarters defined his preferences. You could barely discern the detailing on the bed and the strangely designed closet colored in black and gold. The dominating dark blue swallowed any light that entered the room, and there was a door to your left, likely leading to the bathroom.

The quiet morning was disturbed by the entrance of King, he stands in front of the same door you remember entering last night.

You feel quite disgusted.

``I didn't expect you to be awake.`` For a moment before you passed out, you didn't either.

The uneasy eyes meet kings' as time stills. Dragging out the undesirable connection. It only serves to tug your heart down to your gut. The happy moment, the relief and sorrow for the past nothing but a distant memory in the dark shadows of a realm not your own.

He moves closer to your bed, hands dropping what seems to be extra clothes near your feet. The man doesn't flinch as you push your legs closer to your torso and away from him. The rejection is disregarded.

``You should change.`` Carefully you nod your head.

``The bathroom is over there.``His stern voice shakes the weak walls of your mind as he turns his back on you before walking over to the entrance.

You can't help but let out a shaky breath as the door is locked and you're left alone with thoughts you can not connect no matter how hard you try, it only serves to make tremors run up your spine and into your fingertips, it's a dread invading a carefully maintained flesh you tried to protect with the hands of a child once. The deep noise your restraints produce was nothing but a ghost of your past just a couple of days ago. The weight on your wrists burns. The crackle is deafening and bone-shaking. There's no one else to hear you.

``... I need...`` Time to think, to process. Your lips shiver.

The soft white walls are nothing but an illusion. You wonder if the blue-colored room of a beast is a delusion.

The eyes and the goggles flash before you, white coats accompanied by bloodlust run over your thoughts.

Breathe.

You push your knees off of the bed, sweat traveling down your face, the cold is in no way a comfort.

The warm water is what tempts you to tread the wooden floor.

( Lone Wolf )

The water is hot against your skin as the shower head lets the boiling droplets escape freely from the metal, and steam coats the world in the lightest tints. King brings the ache you've long forgotten existed ever since the smile of a boy with the straw hat lit your life full of shadow. You wish you could be happy in the burning downpour, you deserve it, however, the inferno on your back heals the drawbacks, leaving no trace of your accomplishments which took more than a couple of burns to earn.

And you wonder what have you done to earn this.

The happiness of no longer carrying the guilt was relieving, even if it lasted for a couple of minutes.

As a little lady you would wish for a knight to come and take you away to the land of dreams, make the walls just a bit more colorful and alive in the world that burns dreams. The warm hands would he have, the soft look and the shine in his eyes, the wings on his back, and the fire that would put the sun to shame with its flames. The honey on his lips and the daisies in your hair.

The desires were harmless, they gave you hope, something a human would have.

(You can still taste the metal. You can feel the debris fall and you hear their landing making the ground of pure white shake.

Your instincts would only let you run. Would only make you avoid the black broken bricks covered in glitter. Shining green from the light and smoke.

You have no idea what exploded. You won't want to know.

That night, the girl left that place and its guards to be doomed into oblivion.

That night, a knight was left without his princess.)

The sizzling sound you feel is draining you of the energy you might need, it's a waste yet the fire on your back regenerates the lost skin again, again and again. Until you give in and stop the shower, only for the shackles to be felt around your hands. Your wings are open, fully on display.

Sensing the burns in your bones, you wonder what would have happened if you were more close to the explosion of the past, wonder if it would have been better as the water droplets fall from your wet face.

It's fairer than facing the reality that complicates the fragile string of truths once again.

Hands clenched into fists and fire growing ever hotter on your back, you wonder if you are patient enough for this, no longer does a little girl await for saving. She doesn't need to anymore. Someone else might.

It brings up a question. Can you be the light needed for one's darkest times?

You walk out of the shower with a hot back and bloody palms, the fire burns brightly above the feathers. You can only hope to fuel it forever. You keep the wings close, your captor closer.

No longer will you be truly alone.

( Purity )

If there's one thing you've learned as a child, it's that they aim for the stars, with no plan in mind and ambition in their belly, only a brave few truly make it into the sky and those who could not are left with clipped wings and broken dreams. Fragile to the point they crash onto the soil and shatter, never to be put together again.

It makes you proud that your captain never crashed down, that his wings were never clipped, you're sure that the thoughtlessness was enough to boost him to reach beyond the stars.

Before, you wondered if you were able to grab onto the lights that looked down on you during the night. Now you live to see it come true.

However, where you succeeded some failed.

And so King came crashing down with the one who put his wings back together, feather by feather, vigorous and more dreadful than ever.

He split the skies until it cried.

You refuse to allow him to recite Kaidou's doing to you. Day after day in the dark and cold chamber, your fire brightens the dark and continuously burns on your back, never once diminishing.

Nobody is allowed that pleasure.

( Prison )

Getting used to a closed environment comes naturally, as much as you hate to admit it. The dim walls are a new addition to your view, which is no longer full of white coats and a bright enclosure. The heavy shackles are much harder to familiarize with.

In a cold chamber time moves fast.

Your only interaction with the outside world is King, dark and broody, full of confidence and gentleness, he treats you as if you're fragility itself. You won't beg for a way out, you never did, humiliation over naught is an intense feeling to swallow. He's careful with his words, careful in the way he acts and reconnects with his instincts right by your side.

Day after day his visits keep a consistent schedule, with two plates of food and loneliness in his belly he strives to spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner together with you, speaking only a few words of insight. There's fire on your back yet, it does nothing to protect you from the coldness he brings. Wings stay close to your back, never truly opening in the cage. The words he says don't carry the weight of a man born for death.

One wants to lower your walls while shackling you with his, to the point that the invisible distance strains you, he is full of drought and he craves to end the famine.

Time passes and the longer you ignore the elephant in the room, the heavier its weight on your shoulders grows. You destruct yourself for a question you're not ready to hear the answer to. The pressure leads to an opening to form.

It's said in an outlandish way, heart swelling with numbness and hate tingling your fingers. Your eyes stare onward, beyond the figure meeting them.

``What are you achieving?`` Why have you caged me? Weren't you in my position once upon a time?

It stops him dead in the tracks. His eyes don't widen yet his mouth does in a way that seems robotic. The air stills, only the noise of crackling fire could be heard, heavy and rich with the enigma the man was created to be.

Why did you choose kaidou?

You want to ask.

``...Nothing. I achieve nothing.`` you ignore the strict undertone and drink the tea he brought not too long ago. It conceals the wary gulp.

``I would never have taken you for a liar.`` An intense sound is created as he slices the distance between you two with his flight, black wings ajar. a sharp feather rests near your throat. You have to be attentive. Careful to not snap the thick rope that holds his pieces together.

Blood seeps out of the cut.

``Why do you wish for death?``

``You could have murdered me the night we met.`` It's too late for your soul to perish. His reasoning for keeping you alive is clear to you.

His hand, clenching the root of a dangerously pointed feather shakes with the conflicted emotion.

Your back lights and the cut is healed.

He cannot do it, not to his kind. With a quiet grunt, King backs off to leave the chamber, his feather crumbled and abandoned on the cold wood.

Every night is spent alone on a bed made for your kind, it's just that this night feels full of plain dismay and sorrow.

The past does not visit tonight.

( The Other Side )

Your words penetrate him, though he doesn't indicate. The conversation is buried in the depths of ash, fire blooms inside of him, it rages and burns, and wherever he steps the smoke trails after him.

``Haven't you walked the same path?``

His subordinates are seated around a large table, smiles and crevices on their face.

``Do you not know darkness?``

He does. He is intimate with it.

``The hopelessness of being someones plaything?``

He can feel the heat of the past catching up to him, engulfing him in the ball of flame and strapping him on a table. He knows how it feels to be burned to oblivion, the only peace he has known. Words of madness leave his lips, everyone, including himself knows that it's empty threats, for he stands on the other side of the glass. Nothing but a guinea pig

``I know that you know it too. We walked the same path.``

He would have grabbed anyone's hand if only they reached out. It just so happened that he grabbed someone who could change the world, for the better or for worse.

He looks at the barren wasteland of Onigashima.

Was it truly a choice when your options were between freedom and its absence?

He finds that time flies swiftly when sailing. It halts when on the land.

(He has never belonged to either.)

``Why do you recite history?``

He comes to a conclusion, one of selfishness and fear. Clenched fist heats up, he does not pay attention to the rising temperature.

He craves his kind. The hopelessness is the reason he captured you.

His teeth grind against one another. He isn't on the level of humans, his superior biology won't let him stoop that low, but he finds that mentally, he and them are cut from the same cloth. Other's consequences directed him to repeat what he feared.

The thought has long since passed.

King finds it hard to care about them.

But you are entirely foreign. He can taste the smoke of Punk Hazard.

You try again and again. Lightly scratching at the metaphorical walls of him until your hands grab his heart softly, ripping the veins and staining your hands with his blood.

Your mouth only forages for the food King fetches. He wonders about you and the possibilities of it all until the voice he has gotten used to brings him back to earth, you do nothing to cushion his fall, only stalling his drop with words he feels entirely uncomfortable to understand. For the reason that he had no one to share it with.

``There's a saying about them`` You say, looking oblivious with the plate resting on your knees, mouth cooling down the food.

``A man is wolf to man.`` He gets it, King is sure he will hear your voice saying it whenever the existence of The Celestials get brought up.

``I'm glad you aren't one.``

For a moment King thinks about the blood he spilled, the curses his shoulders withstand and the beginning of it all, the things he has seen himself do, and replies.

``I could say the same.``

You can see his face, swatted with shadows even without the mask, crack, and the hidden comfort dawns on his face.

The soup in your hands is warm like the sunlight, the mask he gripped whenever entering the room rests on the bed, no longer present in his claws.

A path reveals itself to the two of you.

(There's a flower that blooms only in cold surroundings, It feeds from the ground and awaits the warmth of the sun, from the grey clouds and falling snow, the light peeks through.)

( No Regrets )

Through the window, you can smell the madness in the air, it's evident in the way King comes in while the walls around you shake with the rhythms of Queen's performance.

Your heart follows along with the melody without your consent. After all, there is not much to do with the man that you have come to accept. The walls are nothing against the booming voice of a man too loud and apathetic. But within the confines of the castle, the tense atmosphere can be felt with the help of King. Every step he takes and grunt that follows brings forth his thoughts and instincts, there's something in the air. Teetering on the edges of your mind.

The Lunarian gets closer to you, finally reaching down to your level. For minutes he stares at you, taking in your features as if you'd disappear. The leather flexes as his left-hand holds your wrist.

The red eyes don't move away. Neither do yours.

The metal spikes on his mask gleam. His eyes tell a story as his head drops down, gloved fingers sliding over the rough material of your cuffs.

Time is ticking, and you are waiting for him to succumb to temptation and finally make a move for both's sake.

King's face tilts up with a heavy sigh in tow to look at you, only for a soft smile to greet him. The cuffs are warm around your skin and cold to the room.

After all, the sun speaks of your captain's arrival.

It doesn't take many days for King to return with the key in between his fingers and no fire on his back. Your smile greets his eyes, and the knowing grin settles on your dark skin, yet the maliciousness is nowhere to be found between your lips.

Ever since his release, King has never felt at peace, perhaps he can only close the distance.

(A glimpse of sunlight was all the flower needed to rise from the frozen land.)

The heavy cuffs harshly meet the floor.

( Reunion )

The smoke is filling your lungs, the familiarity making your heart clench and bring forth a cough. The walls are stained with blood, but you don't dwell on it. Instead, you let the sounds of battle lead your wings; feeling the air make way for you is a sensation missed. The chunks of limbs and lifeless bodies are nothing but a blur in your vision. The battle has long begun, and your release from the King's chamber is far too late.

A cunning smile flashes in your mind, long black hair, and rosy cheeks decorate the memory.

``Better late than never.`` Her composed voice would say, accompanied by her icy and all-knowing stare.

Suddenly, a blue light shines through the castle wall ahead, accompanied by the noise of a gigantic object impacting from the other side. With a single flap of your wings, you pick up speed, aiming to breach the barrier. Your tough feathers shield your body as you slam into and shatter the wall's material. Unscathed, your eyes adjust to the bright figure standing on your left, emanating a stunning light that brings life to its surroundings, leaving your eyes wide. You notice a trail of smoke to your right.

You get a better look at him as the surroundings clear up.

``S-Sanji?!`` You feel quite happy to know that his issue has been resolved, judging from the way his face brightens and stands on the ground of Wano's borders. Although he always lights up near the opposite sex.

``(Y/N)-Chan?!`` His matted blond hair is a detail you only notice with the advanced eyesight your kind seems to possess. The bloody lip and his bruised forehead made him quite a sight. Although the swelling is nowhere to be seen.

You can try to make the words of delight resurface in your mouth, it's always nice to let others know of your feelings, though sometimes it sure gets hard to pull them out from the bottom of your heart.

``I'm glad to see you here!`` it lets the burden on your shoulders lighten.

Sanji responds the way you except him to.

``(Y/N)-Chwaaan!!~♡ It's been so long since I last saw you!`` No longer able to contain the love in his body, the hearts burst from his very soul. Happiness fuels his wiggly movements. ``Oh, how I missed you!~``

A large smile stretches your lips, dry as a desert. ``It's nice to have you back!-``

You could have said more, but the time has already run out.

There's water leaking from the floor above, a loud shriek is heard and your back is met with a cold, menacing look from who seems to be Sanji's opponent.

The reflexes kick in, sinking into your veins, moving you out of the threat of a mechanism falling on top of you.

You'r gaze falls on the Beast. His eyes meet yours.

There's a glimmer of familiarity in his eye.

``Out of the way!`` Sanji's yell warns before the foe swings his oversized arms once more.

The amount of force needed for your wings to fly backward is more than necessary, though the opponent's swings seem to be getting swift at every dodge, the heat produced on your back strengthens your arms and then fists, and you look for an opening to get one hit in, but for a second you can see the furious blue eyes tell you his whole story, the desperation of a man becoming more clear to recognize...

You decide that this is not your battle... The heat is diminished.

( A Change )

The short encounter with the cook was not for naught, his instructions led you directed to a stadium full of warriors ready to risk their lives for a nation that has only its history to live for.

Within enemies, there are familiar faces mixed in, who are also fighting alongside you. With Kaido fighting Luffy and Sanji taking on Queen, it's only logical to assume that the first mate would go for the top of the food chain.

There's so much to do, yet the responsibility does not intimidate your kind.

You're left to protect the survivors of a war already won.

The aftermath was nothing more than a reunion for your crew.

( Hello )

The victory comes and brings midnight with it, cheers and smiles bloom on the warriors' faces as you breathe heavily, and everyone starts to tend to their wounds, burns and deep slashes are nothing compared to what they've achieved. Pirate crews are no exception, they rest and gain the energy they'll need for the morning, until then it seems that you're the only one with stamina left.

The fire on your back grows small until it vanishes completely.

Of course, after Kiado's defeat, warriors took advantage of the weakened Beast Pirates and imprisoned those who could still stand, albeit their dreams were and still are drowning in pieces far too small to see or collect. It's evident that they hold no hope for the future.

But there's a link connecting you to one of them.

You walk near the exit door, watching as men talk among each other and discuss their next step, whatever that may be. Your semblance to that man does not get mentioned by anyone after all, they have not seen his face, but the single glance from Zoro as he stayed awake for 5 seconds is enough for you to tense up, you wonder when it will be brought up. Zoro might have fallen asleep but your heart stayed heavy next to him.

It's a dangerous idea you have, suspicious even, though they must understand, Luffy's intelligence, Nami's smile, Robins's knowledge, Usopp's understanding nature, Chopper's innocent outlook, Franky's family ties, Brook's dedication, Sanji's acceptance, and Zoro's strict attitude. If a word got out, you'd have to face your friends, have to rip a bandaid off of an old wound and hold in a cry. You just have to wonder when?

Yet you still head towards the Udon Prison, consequences last in your mind, the night sky looks down upon you, the stars begging you to go back, however the dark clouds hide them away.

The night air feels nice on your skin, even as you stand above the walls keeping in the Beasts. You can tell that no one is awake, exhaustion haunts the air as you leap down on the dry ground. Mad Scientist Queen is lying face down, covered in bandages that soil the dirt underneath him red, you're glad that his snores are loud enough to hide your wings' shuffling.

The sudden chill runs up your spine and alerts your senses, face tilting sideways, you look at a disheveled man standing over you from behind.

``Hello again, King.`` He thinks of your eyes and how beautiful they look under the moonlight. Your beauty would put Luna to shame.

Your greeting is dismissed.

``Why are you here?`` His dry mouth can barely open to question you.

``To see you of course.`` This time he keeps his mouth shut. Yet his eyes observe your appearance, the dirt, and blood that soaks your Kimono.

To see him after a loss, in a state such as this is a crime that would be punished by death. You're the only exception to the rule that didn't exist yesterday.

``Let's take a seat.`` He hasn't even noticed you move into the center of the prison, too busy trying to keep all the blood inside his body to not flat-line. The bandages are not doing much, and the fire he used in his battle has extinguished itself. All his strength was used up and you wish to see him in this state? There are no words left for him to speak, so he takes the seat next to you. His knee touches yours, the intimacy is foreign.

``This calls for a celebration, don't you think? I grabbed us some booze.``

The liquor bottle nudges him and he takes it with no complaints. The reasoning for others' celebration is obvious, dethroning an emperor is a big feat for anybody.

``After all, a God has awakened.`` King knows.

His eyelids are closed yet he can see the vague silhouette of JoyBoy, the godly form only brings bitterness to his tongue, so he tries to drown it with the smoky taste of beer, which accomplishes little.

``I was mistaken.`` with Kaidou. Regret fills him.

He isn't angry at his loss as much as he is irritated.

``You were.`` The moonlight shines down on both of you. The silence is deafening, nothing but your heartbeats are heard.

``I was saved by that man.`` His head looks up at you, and each of his limbs freezes at the implication. The misery and hopelessness engulf the surroundings. He thinks about nothing except the straw hat with a red ribbon.

``I see... So you're apart of his family?``

``I am.`` the soft look in your eyes makes him envy you.

``...Are you happy?`` He doesn't know what he will do if you respond negatively. King already imprisoned you, took your independence, and chained you to him, yet you didn't burn out, How will he treat you?

``I am, were you not?`` with Kaidou? He doesn't have a straight answer, so he only responds with silence. This was a question he thinks you know the answer to.

It isn't until your hand grabs his cheeks that he opens his eyes in surprise, also realizing he closed them.

``What is that look?`` The strict tone in your voice is nostalgic. He tries to direct the conversation elsewhere, however his mind is flooded with the feeling of your warm hand on his face.

``The marines will come.``

``They'll come for you too, you know.`` You respond with the warning, the Navy isn't known for mercy after all, they'll go after the cause too.

``I don't want that... I don't... I don't want to be alone.`` You add, sheepish of your request, is it too much to ask? You have friends who you consider as family, but King is... Different.

King also does not want to be the sole survivor of his race, he has carried that burden for long enough and now that he had a taste of his people, he wishes to not go back.

``You won't be.`` It's the only promise he'll keep, for your sake and his.

For this, he will have to leave the prison.

``Stay alive for me.`` You beg and he complies.

It all starts with your wing enveloping his form, the soft heat from your contact, and the gentle touch of your fingers over his cheek.

( See You Later )

It ends with a promise and an escape into the night.

With you in the company of your friends on the Thousand Sunny.

And with him on top of a waterfall, watching with curious and intrigued eyes as he holds the leftover newspaper, the ship descends down the mountain and leaps into the ocean next to the koi fish.

He finds your smile now meters away, he gazes with a newfound meaning to his life.

[litnerdwrites]

Can we talk about Madja for a sec?

Reading the war between Nesta antis and Nesta stan in the comment section of a tiktok, seeing similar arguments; "Rhys didn't tell Feyre because he didn't want to stress her out. Madja told him not to stress her out." or "Rhys is a morally grey character and this is a morally grey decision."

The first thing that came to my mind, though, was that Madja told Rhys about the risk, and not Feyre. Is that Ethical? Can a midwife/ healer/ doctor/ medical person, tell somebody other than the patient about risks to their health, and just never tell the patient? Even if they know she's dying.

Last I checked, she told Rhysand first, as if Feyre isn't her patient. As if Feyre isn't the one who Madja should've told first. Did SJM think that doctors just casually chose who to give out medical information to? Especially conditions severe enough to risk someone's life, with anybody other than the patient. Even if it is the patient's spouse, which still isn't okay when the patient themselves is conscious and without any indication of being incapable of making informed decisions regarding treatment.

It would be one thing if she told them together, at the same time, but she just told Rhys. Did she tell Rhys to tell Feyre or just let him decide if she should know? On top of that, Madja really carried out Feyre's remaining appointment without mentioning it to her.

We can argue all day, every day, about if Rhys was right to keep the pregnancy risk from Feyre or if Nesta should've told her or not (the tags should be a good indication of my stance on this but it's a longer discussion for another day), however, the one person I believe should've been honest with Feyre, not out of love for her, or as a champion for her right to chose (though she should've been) was Madja. As her patient, Feyre should've been Madja's priority, not Rhys.

If we go with the theory that Madja was scared to tell Feyre before Rhys, and then threatened/warned/scared to tell her later, when she realised that Feyre wouldn't be told, then Rhys is a straight up villain. There's no way you can argue Rhys is a good person if the doctors of his court are scared of him.

If she wasn't scared of him, then it's even more messed up that she didn't tell Feyre before Rhys, or at least at the same time, as soon as Madja herself found out. Why is Nesta more guilty than the woman who's job it was to tell Feyre but didn't. I'm no medical professional, but isn't the fact a trusted healer/medical professional feels fine to keep such information from a patient really concerning, right?

Call me crazy, but it seems to me that no matter what Nesta said or didn't say, Madja feels like the bigger concern in this situation, right? I, for one, would be pretty scared if my doctor kept a life threatening condition from me after telling my spouse without my permission, because what else would she keep from me? How could I trust her with my health again? What has she kept from others?

[fangirldreams101]

Coming Home pt. 7

DBF! Daryl, Rick, Shane & Negan x Reader

TW: Severe age-gap w/ older men, smut, consensual sex, handjobs/fingering, groping, some aggression, alcohol usage, piv (unwrapped, reader is on pill though), mentions of r*pe and m*rder (nothing actually happens though), goes from fluff to angst to smut, you chose the enter this emotional rollercoaster, they may be hot but they are hot with feelings, dub-con (technically consent is given, but its morally grey), oral (fem receiving）

Chapter Index

Throughout the rest of Negan's stay, you both became rather close. You gave him a proper tour of the small town you now called home and showed him all your favorite spots. He took you out on a few dates behind your dad's back, you both enjoying your time together. He loved to treat you after fucking your brains out, having you walk around without any panties so he could pull you into a dark corner and fuck you against the wall. He devoured every part of you that he could, it was like he wanted to memorize your body for when he would have to go back home. You had zero unrealistic expectations about your relationship, you were both just there for a good time until Negan had to fly back to Washington. He might not choose to take the job and you were not planning on getting tied down when you just started college anyway. But although you two were on the same page, it looked like some others did not get the memo.

Daryl shared what he saw the night of your birthday with Rick and Shane. Shane was just mad that someone got to you first, but Rick and Daryl were furious. How dare some dumb shit come in and fuck you when they couldn't? And then they had to see Negan parade you around like he just won himself the prized pony at the town fair. You were too innocent, too good for a man like Negan. Sure, they didn't know a thing about him, but they were more than certain they could treat you a million times better than he ever could. So they attempted to hatch various little schemes to make Negan look bad. However, none of them made it past the drawing board. The saying, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend,' did not apply at all to them. They would end up bickering amongst themselves and not a single plan came to fruition.

Any semblance of a truce between the three of them broke one fateful night.

Your dad was out drinking with some coworkers and you were at home, working on schoolwork. Suddenly, you heard the doorbell ring. Cautiously, you crept down the stairs and looked through the peep hole to find out who it was. It was Rick, bloodshot eyes and messed up hair. You quickly unlocked and opened the door, worried about his mental state.

"Hey is everything ok," you questioned, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, clearly not expecting you to be the one to answer the door.

He didn't say anything which made you uneasy, so you lied about the whereabouts of your dad, "Were you looking for my dad? I can call him if you'd like."

He just stood there, looking at you. Honestly, it freaked you out, murder and rape statistics where the culprit is someone you know flashed through your head as you began to slowly backtrack on your words.

"How about you give me a second and I get my dad. He's upstairs, but it'll only take a second-," you began but Rick suddenly collapsed to his knees.

"Jesus! Rick, what's wrong," you cry out, running to his side.

His hands shoot out, pulling you into a rough kiss. Your body stills in shock, before struggling and pushing him away.

‘HEY," you yell, before softening your voice, "You are not in your right mind right now. Either you calm down and speak, or you leave."

Rick's bloodshot eyes began to tear up and you never thought you would see the day the man would be so vulnerable like this.

"Lori's takin' the kids," he shakily breathed out.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, "Oh god, Rick, I'm so sorry."

He buried his face into his hands and began to sob. Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled him into the house and led him to a couch. You sat down next to him, pulling a blanket over his shoulders as the poor man broke down. You just held him, allowing him to cry out all his frustrations onto your shoulder.

After a while, his cries slowed to a stop and he pulled away. You offered him some napkins to wipe his face and he did so.

You both sat in silence for a bit before you broke it, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not much to talk about," his voice was rough, guarded, as if he was disappointed in himself for letting you see him like this.

"Is there anything you would like me to do," you asked, your voice kind and gentle, and completely undeserving of the storm running through his head.

"Can I kiss ya," he asked.

"Rick...," you said hesitantly, "You didn't want anything to do with me before and I'm worried that you'll regret it if you do something now. I don't want to take advantage of what you're feeling right now.“

He leaned close to you, eyes pleading, "I swear 'm not gonna regret it. I need ya, darlin'. Please."

He leaned in and pressed his swollen lips to yours. You didn't kiss back but after a moment of him running his fingers into your hair, mumbling words of praise and desire, you gave in.

"As long as you are sure," you said between his kisses.

"'m sure, 'm so sure. Wanted ya for so long, darlin'. Ya got no idea, how hard its been," he groaned out.

"Woah, there cowboy, I got a bedroom y'know," you gave a small smile, pulling Rick up and walking him up to your room.

As soon as the door was closed, he was on you like an animal. Desperate kisses placed against your neck and hands wandering all over your body. You moaned in response, your own hands tugging at the buttons on his shirt. Prying your clothes off each other, you take a moment to appreciate the handsome man on top of you. He pressed himself into your neck growling at the sight of Negan's marks littering your body. He begins to suck and bite over them, as if he was trying to cover up any evidence that Negan had you. Your naked bodies tumbled onto the bed, hands groping and pulling at each others' flesh. Rick lifted your hips, moving down your body, placing kisses as he went.

You offered to take care of him instead, but he looked up at you with his big eyes and pleaded to let him do this. With a nod of confirmation, he dug his face into you, eating you out like a man starved. Low groans of appreciation left his lips, his eyes closing in bliss as he licked a long stripe up your lips. He began to suckle on your clit, causing you to flail at the pleasure. You panted and moaned loudly, Rick having to force your hips down lest you accidently kick him. You reached your peak quickly, waves of pleasure crashing over you but Rick turned it into a tsunami as he continued to finger your slick folds and circle your clit with his mouth.

"Rick, 's too much," you moaned out at the overstimulation, trying to push him away.

He looked like a man possessed, like not a single word you were saying was getting through to him. As you tried to move away, his grip on your hips tightened, leaving marks as he just tugged you ever closer to his face. He kept mumbling incoherent words, you only picking up, "so pretty," "all mine," and, "waited so long." The desperate, sinful phrases he uttered sent vibrations through you, reaching another crescendo as you came again.

"Rick," you cried out in a long-drawn out moan, "Please."

The man blinks, looking like he fell out of a trance. He pulls away, allowing you to slump down in relief.

"'m sorry, darlin'," he said, wiping the glisten off of his face, "You just tasted so good."

"It's okay," you panted, still trying to catch your breath.

Rick takes that as his cue to continue, and he surges forward, spreading your legs and rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds.

"Wai- oh," you moan out as Rick plunges into you with one hard thrust.

He's girthy, stretching you out despite all of the wetness on you. It takes your breath away, but feels amazing and you cling onto his shoulders, pulling him close.

Without hesitation, Rick begins to move, thrusting in and out of you at a harsh pace. Once again, he acts like a man possessed, violently humping you. He bites and sucks on your breasts, pinching and pulling on your nipples. He switches from thrusting to giving shallow thrusts while grinding against your clit. It's like he is trying to be as deep inside of you as he can. He halts his assault on your breasts, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

In return, you wraps your legs around his hips, helping him reach deeper inside of you. You both moan out sweet nothings, words of empty affection and desire. Eventually, Rick grunts, pushing in deep and stilling, as white hot ribbons pulse out and line your walls.

As soon as he feels that every drop is in you, he slowly pulls out before quickly plugging you up with his fingers, causing you to cry out. He moves his head back down again, lapping at you while his fingers push his cum deeper inside. He tastes the mixture of you both and it makes him happy to know that there is such physical evidence of you together. You cry out one last time, lurching upwards as Rick helps you ride out your high. He finally pulls away completely and you let out a small laugh in absolute disbelief of how good that was.

"That good, huh, darlin'," Rick grinned and you nodded, reaching down to pull him in for a kiss.

You both relaxed into the bed, giddy and cuddled up next to each other.

After a bit of peace, you looked up at him, "Are you feeling better?"

He smiled, leaning down and kissing your forehead, "Much."

"Thank you," he murmured into your hair and you smiled, "Anytime."

The serenity you both created was broken by the sound of the door to the house closing and your dad's voice booming out, "Hi! I'm home!"

Whatever little pocket of peace, the temporary paradise you bestowed upon each other, was shattered with those three words. Rick rolled away from you like a man on fire, dropping to the ground in an effort to scramble for his clothes.

"Fuck," you whispered and the man muttered unholy mantras under his breath as he struggled to put his clothes on.

You put on a nightgown you owned and a robe, "Calm down. He doesn't come into my room without knocking and you left nothing downstairs that would be evidence you were here. You're going to have to wait for him to go to his room before you can slip out the door anyway."

You heard your dad call for you again as his footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and down the hall towards your room. You and Rick looked at each other in a panic.

"I can jump outta the window, a fracture never hurt nobody," he said, already pulling at the window.

Your dad knocked on the door, "Sweetie? Everything okay? Just got back from hanging with the guys."

You signaled to Rick to stop moving and to stay quiet, before calling back out to him, "Yeah everything's good! Just woke up from a nap is all! I'll be down in a sec!"

Your dad yawned, "No worries! Take your time too, think Imma take a shower 'n freshen up."

You could hear him move away from your door and towards the bathroom. Neither you nor Rick moved a hair until the sounds of the water rushing caused you to both sag in relief.

"Were you really about to jump out the window, just to avoid him," you quipped, quirking an eyebrow.

Rick did not look amused, "I really don't want to hurt him."

You put your hands up in a surrendering motion, you really didn't want to redo this conversation again, "Okay, okay. Let's get you out of here."

You poked your head out of the room, double checking that the coast was clear and then motioned for Rick to follow you. You guys climbed down the stairs and reached the front door. You both went out onto the porch and he began to move away.

Quickly, you grasped onto his arm, "You're not going to start treating me coldly again, are you?"

"Pretty sure it was you doin' that, darlin'," he chuckled, but stopped seeing your expression.

"You know what I mean," you pouted.

Rick sighed, before reaching down and pecking you on the head, "I do. And I won't."

You gave a bright smile, practically blinding him. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you planted a sweet kiss on his lips.

"I look forward to seein' you around, then."

Rick nodded, a slight blush covering his face, "Wouldn't miss it for the world, darlin'."

He stepped away, turning to watch you reenter the house before going back on his way home. Life kept draining him, but you kept him going like a solar-powered battery.

Next up:

"YOU DID WHAT TO MY KID?" Your dad roared.

Taglist:

@eternalrose81 @belaballs @lonely-girl2423 @thewitchesofart @theoraekenslover @raininhell @juleshaters @blackvelveteen1339

[greensagephase]

Blanca Navidad (Nonviolent Communication Christmas One-Shot)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x SpiderFemaleReader (colleagues to friends to lovers; currently in the friendship era, so no romance.) Summary: Christmas Eve at Miguel's. Word Count: 11,928 (someone come take my laptop from my hands) Warnings: Mention of injuries and near death experience (from the past). Some Spanish included but translations can be found at the end. Lots of Mexican/Latin food mentioned; you can find some of those items in this reference guide. Short A/N: This is a one-shot for my Nonviolent Communication fanfic but can be read as a standalone. Masterlist Songs inspo: "Last Christmas" - Wham! "Blanca Navidad" - Matisse, Ha*Ash "Noche de Paz" - Reik

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! 🎄

You repeatedly offered to host dinner at your place. It was only fair, you thought, especially after Miguel hosted Thanksgiving at his place but he refused. Each time. The only thing he asked of you was some dessert because apparently he really loves your baking, so that’s what you arrive with to his penthouse on Christmas Eve. It’s 7pm when you step out of the multidimensional portal and into Miguel’s living room. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been here now; how many times you’ve stepped into the space and hung out on his couches and talked with him over café de olla and pan dulce about anything and everything.

You glance at the fireplace as you hold on to your bag with baked desserts. Miguel’s penthouse is warm and cozy, a sharp contrast with the cold and freezing temperatures outside. You take a quick glance behind you to look out the windows. It’s supposed to snow at some point during the night and of course, the children and some adults were all excited about a white Christmas, or at least they seem so this morning when you did your morning patrol across your city. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear steps, Miguel’s, coming from what you assume is the kitchen and dining area of his penthouse. You turn back and there he is. Once again, he’s wearing his apron since he’s cooking. He looks cozy and comfortable in a grey cable knit sweater, with the sleeves folded neatly up his forearms, and his dark pants. You notice his hair looks damp, which for some reason reminds you of the times you helped him showered so many months ago due to his injuries during a mission. Your free hand curls into a soft fist as you recall how his hair felt. You smile at him as he enters the living room.

“Hey, Merry Christmas Eve!” you greet him softly.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” he repeats with a soft smile as he approaches you. “Here, let me get that for you.”

You don’t decline or refuse his help, even though you don’t need it, when he motions for the bag with baked desserts. You’re learning to accept that Miguel is a gentleman no matter what, so you lift your bag for him to take.

“The food is ready, so we can go ahead and have dinner if you want,” he says with a soft grin, motioning for you to follow him into the kitchen, carrying your bag.

The scent of food engulfs you as you enter the kitchen behind Miguel, making you excited about the food. As you follow Miguel, you notice his Christmas tree is still up. You noticed it earlier this month when you came over for dinner on a Saturday. The sight was a nice surprise that day and even now, as it gives you hope that Miguel feels the holiday spirit this year.

Miguel sets your bag on the counter, careful to avoid messing anything up before he takes a glance at you. He noticed as soon as he saw you wearing a coat, reminding him that you were in Miles’s universe earlier. Mr. and Mrs. Morales invited the whole gang, including Miguel, to their annual Christmas Eve building party but much like last year, Miguel politely declined the invitation. Many things have happened over the year, the most important being Miguel starting his healing journey. He’s taken steps in the right direction, perhaps small ones, but they’re all significant to Miguel. Yet, when he was approached by Miles once again about the Christmas Eve party, he still couldn’t say yes to the invitation.

He’s tried more with the group over the last months but it’s still something he needs to work on. Besides, Miguel could already imagine the questioning of some guests. It would be too much for him. However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t open to this. To dinner with you for Christmas Eve. He asked you a week later after Thanksgiving about your plans, wanting to plan better than he did for that dinner, especially because he knew you were likely invited to Miles’s building Christmas Eve party again. So, he asked you and you happily agreed to having dinner together. Except when you started talking about what you could cook, Miguel told you he was hosting and he shot down all your attempts, only asking for dessert, if you wanted. You wanted to make it even since he cooked for Thanksgiving but Miguel didn’t want you to stress out about cooking, considering you were invited to Miles’s universe. He didn’t want you to stress out over it or end up missing the party to cook, and besides, Miguel loves cooking and sharing food from his background with you. So, it was better this way for him. Miguel gestures to your coat now, a sign that you were at Miles’s universe a little while ago, if not minutes ago, out in the cold.

“May I?” he asks.

You look at yourself and realize. “Oh, my coat.” You smile at him and nod before he walks around you and helps you out of it. You thank him as he hangs your coat over a chair gently. “Oh, the Morales wish you a Merry Christmas and they sent food.”

Miguel nods, smiling softly as he watches you begin to unpack your bag. You set out the plates the Morales’s prepared, reminding you of last year when they sent you to drop off food for Miguel because they didn’t want him to spend Christmas Eve on his own.

“The fried plantains are to die for,” you tell him as you set down what you baked.

“I can imagine. Last year’s were great,” Miguel says quietly, remembering last Christmas Eve and feeling in awe that a whole year has passed already. Everything was so different then, he thinks. Last year, you were only supposed to drop the food off but you ended up staying until midnight. This year, however, you left the party early to join him for dinner. This year it was planned for you to come. Miguel smiles to himself. So much has changed. He clears his throat softly. “I will certainly eat some of that in a bit, especially the fried plantains. Do you want to have dinner now?” he asks. “Or, maybe you ate at the party and you’re not too hungry yet.”

“I’d love to have dinner. I didn’t eat much so I could save some space for dinner. I’m not missing out on anything,” you say with a soft chuckle that makes Miguel grin since he knows you like his cooking, something that pleases him a lot.

“Great, then we can start. I made some tinga since I know you love it,” he says as he gets into full host mode. “Go ahead and take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” Miguel walks around his kitchen island to the stove where he has multiple pots and pans of food, and possibly drinks like last year. “We can have it with burritos or with tostadas, whichever you like. There’s also…” Miguel continues, listing everything he has cooked, once again surprising you with his wide menu.

You listen intently, with a smile, as Miguel tells you about the pozole.

“I couldn’t decide, so I made a bit of both red and green. I think last year I made green, so hopefully you like the red one.”

You tell him you’re sure you will, considering everything he cooks is amazing. He goes on to tell you about the tamales and how he made different ones this year, too.

“There’s some with rajas de chile poblano and queso fresco. These are really good. And then, there’s the sweet ones. These were my favorite growing up,” Miguel tells you as he shows you small, pink tamales with dark spots here and there that indicate small bits from cinnamon sticks to sweeten the dough.

“Those would go very well with café de olla,” you tell him, which makes him grin.

“I thought you’d think so,” he replies before he taps a pot’s lid. “Café de olla right here.”

You grin back.

“Then, there’s some ponche and I made champurrado. I think - you might like it,” he says.

“If possible, I’m trying everything,” you tell him with a soft smile, which makes Miguel smile back.

“Well, no pressure but please feel welcome to. I hope you like it,” he says turning fully around to face you. “I forgot, there’s also buñuelos. So… what would you like to have first?” he asks, having a feeling that he knows what you’re going to go first for.

You stare at Miguel, knowing exactly what you’d like to eat first. “Maybe it’s surprising or not too surprising, but may I please have some burritos de tinga?”

Miguel chuckles. “Ya lo sabia. I had a feeling that was going to be your choice.”

You shrug with a little smile. “You tell me there’s burritos de tinga, I’m gonna go for that. It’s your fault I love them so much.”

Miguel shakes his head at you, amused. He grabs the flour tortillas from one of his counters and sets a pan to heat them up. “I’m glad you like them so much,” he says, truly meaning it. He’s cooked this dish for you a few times over the months ever since the two of you started to have dinner together every Saturday when it’s his turn to host. You tried it last Christmas Eve after he asked if you wanted to join him for dinner right on the spot when you dropped off the food the Morales family sent him. Come to think of it, Miguel realizes that was the very first time he ever invited you for dinner.

He had no plans to cook or to even be home. He had the opportunity to spend one Christmas with Gabriella and it was the first time he had celebrated in years after Gabriel’s death. After everything that happened with Gabriella and her universe and the events surrounding Miles, the last thing Miguel wanted to do was celebrate. He thought he’d spend the day at HQ like any other day, even if the building was vacant since everyone was off for the holidays. He tries to remember now, what was it that made him leave HQ and gave him the motivation to cook a bit of everything? He reasons now that it was probably nostalgia from those childhood days.

The holidays were always decent in the O’Hara household since those were rare days when his parents weren’t arguing or acting up. Those were also days in which Conchata treated him like a mother should. She spoiled Gabriel and him with sweet food like Mexican hot chocolate, buñuelos, and sweet tamales; even letting them add the food coloring to make the tamales colorful. Perhaps, it was those memories that made Miguel leave HQ last year. Either way, he hadn’t expected to be home. He had no decorations up, nor expected anyone but then there was Lyla, popping out of nowhere as he was finishing showering, while the last of the food was cooking, to tell him that you were looking for him because you had food from the Morales family. Before he knew it, he was inviting you to join him for dinner and you did, and Miguel enjoyed it.

“Do you want agua de Jamaica?” he asks, pausing his thoughts for now.

“Yes, I’d love some. I can get that for us, while you look after the tortillas,” you offer, standing up even though Miguel shakes his head. “I know you’re the host but you don’t have to do everything. You already cooked - I imagine for hours. Please, it’s the least I can do,” you tell him and he begrudgingly nods.

“Alright, if you wish to,” he says, which makes you smile as you reach for glasses from his cupboards since you know your way around his kitchen all too well, much like he knows his way around yours. You notice his pouting as he flips the tortillas, with bare hands as always, and hold back from chuckling. You walk to his fridge to retrieve the pitcher with agua de Jamaica, finding it endearing that Miguel insists on doing everything when he hosts. He tries to help even on the weekends when it’s your turn, always offering his help one way or another, and of course, you always decline but that doesn’t stop him from offering his help anyway.

You set the glasses and pitcher on the counter and walk towards him, standing a few feet away to give him space.

“May I help with something else?”

He shakes his head, meeting your gaze. “You’re my guest, Y/N. Please go ahead and take a seat. I’ll have your burritos ready in a minute or two.”

Your shoulders slump dramatically. “Really?”

Miguel’s eyebrow raises gently. “Really.”

You hum in response and walk away, defeated. With a sigh, you take a seat and now you pout but it’s quickly replaced with a grin when Lyla appears before you.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Y/N!” she says throwing her arms in the air in a cheery tone, making her santa hat move around dramatically.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Lyla.”

“I see you’ve been prohibited from the kitchen.”

You chuckle softly.

“I heard that, Lyla,” Miguel says, looking over his shoulder with a glare that Lyla dismisses.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you, too, boss,” she retorts with a roll of her eyes. “How about some music? Something for the Christmas spirit? I prepared a playlist just for this.”

“Oh, really? You have the classics, I assume,” you tell her.

“Definitely. Some are Miguel’s favorites. Or used to. I don’t know. It has some of my favorites for sure.”

“Like…?” you ask.

“You know…” Lyla shrugs. “Like ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham!”

“Oh, a classic,” you reply with a smile, approving.

“I knew you’d understand me. Let’s put it on,” she says and of course, the music immediately fills the air thanks to Miguel’s amazing sound system.

You nod in appreciation. “Nice choice, Lyla.”

“Thank you! It feels good to be appreciated for my music taste. Some people don’t like it.”

“That’s because you blast it at full volume with no warning,” Miguel replies grumpily, as he reaches the counter with two plates with food.

Lyla shrugs again. “It doesn’t sound too loud to me.”

“The burritos are ready, Y/N. Let me get the toppings,” Miguel says, deciding to ignore Lyla.

“Thank you,” you reply softly as he places the plate in front of you.

“Always,” he answers as he serves agua de Jamaica for the two of you.

“Ooh, should we see Miguel’s official holiday card? I look good in it,” Lyla says immediately displaying the holiday card every Spider Society member received before either you or Miguel can even respond.

Miguel groans quietly as he takes a seat. “Lyla, put that away.”

“I’m just showing Y/N. Look at my outfit. I look good in the card,” she replies with a grin.

You chuckle quietly as you stare at it, remembering Miguel’s mood since you were there. He didn’t want his picture to be taken but Jess, Peter B., and Lyla said he had to as he’s the leader and founder of the Spider Society. Despite Miguel’s protests, Peter B. and Mayday somehow managed to slip on a santa hat to his head, catching Miguel by surprise. He glared at Peter B., who was next to Jess in a flash, urging her to take the photo before Miguel took it off, and of course, Jess was quick to snap a photo. Now, everyone has a holiday card with Miguel glaring at the camera in his full suit with a santa hat while Lyla floats above his head, happy as can be.

“And there’s this one, too. Come to think of it, we should’ve used this one,” Lyla says, displaying a photo of Miguel, still wearing the santa hat but showing his face now, and you standing nearby showing him your progress on the society’s weekly reports. You notice the difference on Miguel. His glare from the official holiday card is replaced with a relaxed face and a small smile directed at you.

Miguel stares at it, noticing the difference, too, which makes his cheeks feel slightly hot, or maybe it’s just the heat from the food and the stove, he doesn’t know.

“Aww, I’ll let you two have dinner now, Merry Christmas Eve!” Lyla says with a smirk before she disappears, leaving Miguel and you alone with the Christmas music still playing in the background.

You grin softly and shake your head. “She really does get in a mood with the holidays,” you say as you add toppings to your plate.

“She does. She’s already too much sometimes and with the holidays…” Miguel scoffs in disbelief yet also in a playful way. “Even more but anyway - how was the party?” he asks softly as you pass him the toppings.

“It was great. There was more of Miles’s family this year, so we had to keep introducing ourselves to them. I think some of them thought it was weird Miles invited his school mentor,” you say with a grin. “That’s me.”

Miguel chuckles. “You’re the school mentor - I can see that.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling and thinking. “Who would you be?”

Miguel turns to you, thinking. “I don’t know.”

“Hm… we’ll have to think about that,” you reply before you take a drink of agua de Jamaica.

Miguel grins, thinking that if he had gone to the party, he would’ve simply said that he was the school mentor’s close friend but saying that would mean stating out loud that you’re his friend. Despite the months, and the healing Miguel has done this year, his fear that something will happen to you still exists inside of him. He doesn’t want to jinx losing you - his close friend - by saying it out loud, directly. He’s alluded to it so many times in different ways to tell you how he feels. You’re his close friend. Yet, he hasn’t said those words specifically. Not yet anyway, but Miguel is certain one day, he will. Could it be next year? Or the following one? Miguel doesn’t know but he knows he will one day. For now, he says and acts on it however he can, whenever he can, in his own way.

“This is - as always - amazing,” you say with a soft sigh after having the first bite of a burrito. “I can never tire of this.”

Miguel smiles, amused yet happy with your reaction. He doesn’t know why, but it always pleases him to see how much you enjoy his cooking. He loves seeing that delighted look on your face when you eat what he cooks.

The two of you move through the other food, trying all the tamales, minus the sweet ones because you decided to save those for the dessert part. Miguel is once again, pleased when he sees you love the tamales with rajas and queso fresco. Pozole is last, and of course, you try the other kind he made.

“Which one is your favorite?” you ask him. “Red or green?”

Miguel thinks about it for a few seconds as he gently wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I think - green. What about yours?”

“I think green is my favorite, too.”

You grin at each other before you continue eating from your bowls. All the while, the two of you talk about the last few days and how everyone at HQ was excited for the holidays. Even members with few or no family, like yourself and Miguel, had plans with other members. The two of you talk about that, and how wonderful it is that the Spider Society has led to friendships so deep they feel like family. The two of you leave it at that, not wanting to dampen the mood with sadness of loved ones long gone though both of you think about your deceased loved ones anyway.

At last, Miguel brings a plate stacked with sweet, pink tamales. He sets it on the counter so the two of you can just grab from it instead of having to walk back and forth. He also brings along a plate with buñuelos, and of course, there’s the desserts you brought along, too.

“You want ponche, champurrado, or café de olla?” Miguel asks.

“I think - I’m going to leave the café de olla for last, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. So, ponche or champurrado… Or both?” he asks, a little amused. Noting your indecisiveness, Miguel adds, “I’m grabbing both.”

You grin. “Both for me, too, then. May I help you?”

“No,” Miguel says softly, shaking his head at you before he turns around to prep everything. “Thank you but no. You’re my guest.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no arguing. “Just let me know if I can help. I don’t mind, Miguel.”

“I know you don’t,” he replies softly with a smile as he grabs the mugs. “But please - let me do this.” He turns around, holding two mugs in each hand perfectly. He doesn’t need to say anything else for you know what he’s saying. He’s trying to move forward. He’s trying to show you his appreciation and caring for you. He’s trying to express what you mean to him in his own ways, even if it’s just him merely serving you food or a drink and taking it to you. He’s trying in his own way until he can say it out loud.

You nod and smile softly.

Satisfied with your reaction, Miguel turns around and proceeds to serve the drinks. You grin as upbeat holiday music continues to play. It seems that Lyla’s playlist is quite long and diverse since you recognize Mexican Christmas music. You listen intently to it, while Miguel fixes the drinks until he approaches the kitchen island with your two mugs. He places them carefully in front of you before he retrieves his, joining your side once again. You can’t help but think about how the two of you have sat in these same chairs ever since… exactly a year ago, almost as if you have unassigned assigned seats. You smile as you come to this realization, finding it endearing in a way but also realizing just how much has changed in a year.

One year ago, you were in Miles’s universe when Mr. and Mrs. Morales approached you, asking if you could take food to Miguel and stay with him while he ate so he wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Eve. You agreed because the Morales family has taken you in as part of their family, inviting you over to dinner and their gatherings but also because you had thought about the same thing. You didn’t like the idea of Miguel alone over the holidays even though your friendship was barely beginning. You had shared some moments with each other at that point like your celebration of Peter’s birthday and Miguel letting you see his ofrenda on Dia de Los Muertos. Miguel was barely beginning to open up and you knew it was too soon to ask him anything about the holidays but then, there were Miles’s parents, asking you for this favor. And you couldn’t say no.

You look over at Miguel as he brings one of the mugs to his mouth, blowing softly on it to cool off. You smile and grab one of your own, opting for the ponche first as you continue to remember last year. You were so nervous about it even though you agreed to it and wished that Miguel hadn’t spent the entire day alone. You guessed he was going to be at HQ like always, since you knew that he worked around the clock but to your surprise, he was here at home. You almost chuckle to yourself as you now remember standing in a dark and empty alleyway in Miles’s universe talking to Lyla, asking her about Miguel’s location to meet and give him the food. It was how you learned he was here. You remember Lyla giving you a hard time back then when you asked her if she could ask Miguel to meet you at HQ since he was home. You didn’t know where he lived back then and besides, you didn’t want to intrude on Miguel’s privacy nor make Miguel feel like you wanted to know where he lived but Lyla, who for some reason was busy at the time, told you she’d ask if you could simply come over, telling you that she’d give you the coordinates if Miguel agreed.

Then, you swear it took less than thirty seconds before the coordinates were on your gizmo, ready for you to travel directly to Miguel’s home, and that’s how you first entered his home a year ago, with plates of food in your hands, and party favors and cans of soda in your coat’s pockets, feeling cold from being outside to suddenly surrounded by warmth from Miguel’s penthouse. And of course, there was Miguel suddenly, standing in his universe’s fashion instead of the suit like he used to back then. It was the first time you ever saw him out of the suit. Now, the sight of him in normal attire is a familiar one. A lot has really changed since that night a year ago.

You turn to Miguel’s holographic Christmas tree, smiling. Last year he didn't have one when you arrived but he showed it to you afterward and told you all about them and how people in Nueva York design holographic ornaments as a tradition, though traditional trees are still a thing in some homes when they can be afforded. Miguel even showed you how to design ornaments before he had you design one.

“You want to look at it?” Miguel asks, noticing your gaze on it.

You turn to meet his gaze, still smiling and nod. “Sure.”

He nods with a soft grin and stands up, thinking to himself about how he actually put his tree up earlier this month. Last year he had no plans nor did he feel the festivities to put up his tree until Christmas Eve when you got here.

The two of you walk over to it, holding your mugs in hand before you stop in front of it.

You admire the tree, still in awe even a year later with the difference. In your universe, traditional Christmas trees are still the norm. Smiling, your eyes catch certain ornaments you didn’t see the previous year. You tell yourself you probably just missed them but you’re certain you would’ve remember seeing the ornaments with Conchata and Gabriel’s names along with the year they were designed on them. You silently conclude you wouldn’t have missed them, considering they would’ve caught your attention. Your eyes stop on one of Gabriel’s. You smile warmly at it, seeing the year it was made, 2084.

“Gabriel,” you say softly, tenderly, as if you knew him, though you never did nor will.

Miguel turns to look at you, smiling softly as he detects that tenderness in your voice while saying his younger brother’s name. It makes him feel warm and appreciation towards you even more, while also making him wish once again that you could’ve met Gabriel. He’s thought about it in the past a lot. He believes that Gabriel and you would’ve been good friends, too. He turns to look at the ornament, taking a drink from his mug. He wishes you could’ve met not only Gabriel but also Gabriella because he knows she would’ve loved you just like Gabriel.

Miguel consoles himself with the fact that you’ve at least met them in his dreams as he often sees them there. After what happened with Gabriella’s universe, Miguel’s dreams were plagued by nightmares, leading him to avoid sleep and only sleeping when his body was at the verge of exhaustion for months. He still has nightmares sometimes but his dreams are far more pleasant these days thanks to you. Ever since the spring after his near death experience, when he discovered that your scent and the sound of your breathing while you sleep help him, he has been sleeping better and with less nightmares.

Now, he dreams of Gabriella and Gabriel often. Conchata and his late wife sometimes make appearances, though not as often as the first two. Not as often as you now. You started showing up in his dreams two months after his near death experience and ever since then, you’ve become a regular. It’s how he consoles himself when he wishes you could’ve met two of the most important people in his life, Gabriella and Gabriel. You engage with them in his dreams and they both love you, which only fuels his belief that they would’ve loved you in life, too.

Miguel smiles softly as he thinks of them. There’s some heartache, and he knows there will always be. However, for the first time in years, Miguel doesn’t feel overwhelmed by his heartache like he used to. He doesn’t feel like that because he’s not alone. He looks over at you, noticing the awe in your eyes as you continue to take in the Christmas tree and how your eyes linger on something specific.

You’ve been admiring the ornaments, silently reading the different years of the ornaments and even finding some of Miguel’s from previous years when your eyes land on one specific ornament.

Yours.

You stare at it. You weren’t expecting to see it and if you were honest, you thought Miguel had probably erased your file or simply omitted it from the final copy last year but no, it’s on the tree. You wonder if he simply missed it and that’s why it’s on here as a simple mistake. You look around it, your eyes also finding the one Miguel made last year when he was showing you how the design program worked. It’s next to yours much like it was last year. You stare at the two ornaments until a screen, a tablet, meets your vision. You blink.

“Want to give it another go?” Miguel asks with a soft grin, offering you a tablet.

You smile and accept it, recognizing the ornament design program from last year. You look over at him, finding him smiling softly as he holds his mug and another tablet. You silently wonder where he retrieved the two tablets from since he hasn’t left your side. You glance at the dining table, questioning if they were there all along and whether Miguel planned for this.

“Sure, why not? I think I can do better this year,” you reply, still smiling.

“You did pretty great last year,” Miguel says reassuringly before he gestures to the dining table.

The two of you sit down, next to each other. The mugs are placed on the table before the designing of ornaments begins. The two of you design your ornaments, falling into a comforting and peaceful silence though soft Christmas music still plays in the background. It’s not until five or so minutes that the silence is disrupted.

“Aww, you’re designing ornaments! How cute,” Lyla says appearing between the two of you and taking a glance at each tablet. “No offense Miguel but Y/N is doing so much better than you.”

“Thanks, Lyla,” Miguel replies, not even looking up at her as he continues to design.

You smile and decide not to say anything.

“I’m just saying, it looks like Y/N has had more years of experience doing this than you. And this is your universe…” Lyla says.

“You’re so encouraging,” Miguel answers.

Lyla shrugs. “I try my best.”

You shake your head at Lyla and continue to work on your ornaments for a few more minutes until the two of you are done. You show each other your screens and smile as you see that you’ve both stuck to Miguel's Christmas tree theme colors and added the current year in Nueva York.

“You added more detail,” Miguel notes as he looks at yours, feeling happy that you even added the year underneath your name just like he did. “Are you ready to upload it?”

You nod and so, Miguel uploads both his and your ornament, saving it to the program. You both get up to add the ornaments through the tablet to see where the program places them since it’s supposedly done randomly, making it a bit of a fun game.

Miguel uploads his first, showing up somewhere around the top before you add yours. You both search for it and find it at last, placed just below his new one.

“That was fun. Thank you, Miguel,” you gently say, breaking the silence.

“It's no traditional tree but…” he says, looking at the ornaments.

“It's wonderful,” you finish with a smile, looking at the tree yourself.

Your response tears Miguel's gaze from the ornaments to you, his red eyes taking you in. He silently gives thanks for you, something he has found himself doing more as the months have gone by. He's quick to remember now the gifts he got you but a part of him is still going back and forth on it. What if you don't like them? Or worse, what if you find it odd that he’s giving you gifts? He turns his gaze away from you to look behind the Christmas tree. He placed the gift bag there earlier behind the tree, where he knows it’s not visible, just in case he brings himself to do it at some point during the night. He sighs softly, reassuring himself he still has time, and besides, he also has tomorrow to give it to you since he plans on inviting you for the recalentado.

The two of you stand there for a little while longer, admiring the Christmas tree, silently thinking about how much has changed in a year, and deciding that you wouldn’t change anything about it.

After a little while later, Miguel checks the time.

“The Christmas show will start soon,” he quietly says.

You turn, remembering. You thought about it earlier this month but it seemed to have escaped your mind today as it’s been a busy day. You visited your parents, Aunt May, and Peter’s graves earlier this morning to change their flowers since it’s Sunday. Then, there was your morning patrol because even on the holidays, you like to check up on your city, just in case. And of course, there was the party at Miles’s universe where you and your friends did a gift exchange just like the previous year.

“How long till it starts?” you ask.

“About fifteen minutes,” Miguel replies with a smile. “Plenty of time to drink the champurrado.”

You grin and nod, turning to walk back to the kitchen island. You take one last glance at the tree, your eyes finding your ornaments. You briefly think about how there’s now two ornaments with your name on them on Miguel’s tree. The sight spreads a warmth through your chest for you never imagined this. You turn away and follow Miguel to the kitchen island for the other drink.

He offers the buñuelos and more sweet tamales, which you happily accept. You eat and talk in the privacy of Miguel’s home with a holographic countdown in display, counting down the minutes until the holographic Christmas show starts.

“It’s supposed to snow again,” Miguel says as he turns his body sideways on the chair, facing you completely now.

“We’re supposed to get snow, too. All the kids and some adults were excited about it this morning when I was on morning patrol,” you say with a chuckle that makes Miguel grin.

You turn slightly, facing Miguel more with your body but still making sure to give Miguel space. Over the last few months you’ve brushed hands, arms, and legs here and there. It has been accidental, as you’re always trying to make sure to respect Miguel’s boundaries regarding physical contact. Ever since losing Gabriella in his arms, Miguel finds physical touch hard but you’ve noticed the way he has slowly opened up to it. It’s not much compared to how open you are to it with your friends like a hug or a pat on the shoulder. Miguel is not there yet but you’ve noticed the brushing of his fingers against yours when you hand him items has become more intentional than accidental on his end over the last few months, which makes you happy that he’s starting to feel more comfortable with it.

Then, there’s been the slight squeeze of his pinky around yours. It’s happened three times so far, and it’s been on times when the two of you have shared something personal. The first time Miguel did it was after he shared with you his childhood and Spider-Man origins. The second time was on Peter’s birthday this year when you invited Miguel again for your small celebration in his honor. There were a few tears on your end, for you couldn’t help but feel sentimental. You guess Miguel did it to comfort you in a small way, not realizing that his presence alone was more than comforting to you. The third and last time was over a month ago on Dia de Los Muertos, when he invited you to see his ofrenda for the second time.

Except this year, he invited you earlier in the evening while he cooked all his loved ones’ food and prepared the decorations, even inviting you to help him cut the colorful tissue paper into the beautiful and intricate designs to adorn his offering. He even made extra this year of everything so the two of you could eat and by midnight when the ofrenda was completed and lit up by flickering candles that cast shadows over the marigolds, you could tell Miguel was sentimental as his eyes scanned the four photos. His mother, his wife, Gabriel, and Gabriella.

You thought he was sad, naturally, but he was sentimental because he was recalling a dream - or was it a vision - Miguel still goes back and forth on this. It was the dream he had while he passed away for a few minutes back in the spring. He saw his wife, Gabriel, Gabriella, and even his counterpart, who gave him closure on his guilt for stepping up as Gabriella’s father after his passing. He thought about the dream that night on Dia de Los Muertos, as the two of you knelt in front of his ofrenda for the second time, and remembered Gabriella’s sweet words, thanking Miguel for all her favorite food and the toys he offered the previous year. He also remembered his loved ones’ assurances that they were always with him. He grew sentimental that night, wondering if they were there at that moment, with him and you.

You wanted to comfort him like so many times before but you knew and continue to know that Miguel is still not fully ready for such physical touch. He noticed it, like so many other times, and decided to let you in his own, small way; by squeezing your pinky with his own when he handed you a mug with café de olla. That was the third, and you’re certain it will be, the last time of this year.

It’s small but you’re very happy for Miguel. You’re immensely thankful that he has allowed you into his life and that he trusts you. You smile at him as you continue to face him.

“I can imagine the excitement. You can’t beat una blanca navidad,” he says turning to the windows, wondering if he’ll still be awake by the time it’s supposed to start snowing.

“That’s true,” you reply as you turn to the windows yourself.

“Three minutes,” Miguel says looking at the countdown. “Should we save the café de olla for after the show?”

“If you want to,” you reply softly, looking at your current mug. “I still have a little champurrado left.”

Miguel nods. “Me, too. Café de olla for after then.”

You grin at him before you stand up, fixing your top and feeling excitement. Last year you got to watch the Christmas show and it was amazing as it was all holographic and playing in front of Miguel’s building. You recall the Santa Claus even waved at you as he rode past in his sleigh.

Miguel and you head to the windows, mugs in hand. You lean sideways on the window just like he does, facing each other as you await. At last, the Christmas holographic show begins with a large and bright yellow star.

“It’s starting,” you whisper softly, eyes wide in fascination.

Miguel’s eyes flicker to you subtly, gently smiling at your reaction before he returns his gaze to the show.

The star begins to spin, rapidly, sending sparks flying through the air. The star spins so fast, it begins to look more like a yellow portal. Suddenly, holographic reindeer gallop out into the night sky before Santa’s sleigh and Santa himself fly out of the portal, pulled by the reindeer. He waves his arm around before pulling holographic gifts from his sack of gifts to show them off, even pointing at the windows and gesturing to the gifts as if saying “this is for you.”

You grin softly, loving every second of this but then it gets better because snowmen step, or rather glide out of the still spinning star/portal, waving hello before they start a dance performance that sends holographic snowflakes flying through the sky. You chuckle softly as the snowmen continue to dance while Santa and his reindeer fly above them. Miguel chuckles quietly as well, enjoying the show and briefly recalling previous years when he would stand next to little Gabriel to watch the show together when they were just kids. Gabriel’s favorite part was always when Santa made his appearance.

“¡Miguel, mira, mira! It’s Santa!” Gabriel would exclaim excitedly each year, waving his small hand through the glass window, hoping to catch the holographic Santa’s attention.

Miguel would nod, smiling and feeling the excitement himself but he showed it in a more reserved way, which always led Gabriel to grab Miguel’s top from the hem.

“Miguel, wave to Santa! He’ll notice the two of us! Miguel!” Gabriel used to say, pouting.

“Okay, okay,” Miguel would reply before waving, unable to refuse his brother’s demands.

Miguel sighs softly at the memories of his little brother now. He always thought he’d be the first to pass away, being the oldest, but life had other plans for Gabriel. Still, Miguel silently hopes that Gabriel gets to watch the show from wherever he is.

His thoughts fade away as a new thing happens, catching both his and your attention. A neon red string comes out of the yellow spinning star and attaches to Santa’s sleigh. Your eyebrow raises as the color is familiar and sure enough, it is. Spider-Man 2099, as a hologram, swings out of the portal and pulls himself onto Santa’s sleigh at the back. You gasp softly in both surprise and delight, turning to look at Miguel briefly to see his reaction. He looks just as surprised. Your eyes return to him, or his hologram version, as he begins to wave towards the windows, wearing a santa hat.

The two of you, and the rest of Nueva York, watch the interaction between Santa and Spider-Man 2099 as the man in all red offers the other one a plate with cookies. The superhero accepts one and nods back at Santa in gratitude before they begin to fly around, closer to the windows now. You’re smiling the entire time, finding it endearing that the city included Miguel this year in the holographic Christmas show.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Miguel says next to you with a grin.

You look up at him, smiling. “It was a nice surprise. I bet all your supporters are delighted.”

Miguel hums in response and looks at you with his little grin. “I hope so.”

“I’m sure they are! I’m not even from this dimension and I’m delighted by it,” you reply turning back to look at the windows just in time as Santa’s sleigh flies by Miguel’s windows.

You cover your mouth in delight as Santa waves at the two of you with Spider-Man 2099 just behind him on the sleigh. You can’t help yourself so you wave back at Santa and then at Spider-Man 2099 when Santa moves his sleigh further ahead so the superhero can face both Miguel and you. He gives Miguel a nod, which you find amusing considering the irony before the hologram turns to you. He leans closer and offers a high-five, which you reciprocate with a soft laugh as you’ve never seen Miguel do such a thing. Just as you put your hand down, the hologram gives you a wink.

“Oh,” you say simply, amused but surprised before both Santa and Spider-Man 2099 wave goodbye and fly lower to other floors. You steal a glance at Miguel and notice his eyes on the still dancing snowmen. There’s a soft blush covering his cheeks as he leans his entire body on the window sideways with his free hand in his pocket since the two of you have placed your mugs on the window’s ledge. Is he avoiding your gaze? You turn back to the show with a small smile.

Miguel stares at the snowmen, they’re still dancing and sending holographic snowflakes into the air. His face feels hot and he’s sure it shows. He wasn’t expecting to be part of the show this year, even though he’s been added to it before but what was more surprising was the hologram’s behavior. He smiles and shakes his head to himself as he looks at you. Your attention is back to the show. He hasn’t even offered a high-five to you - or anyone - since Gabriella, so he finds it amusing that the hologram beat him to it. The winking on the other hand… Makes his cheeks flush and wonder what were the odds that the hologram winked at you specifically. He sighs silently and returns his attention back to the show, thinking that his small embarrassment was worth it, considering you found the interaction amusing and it made you happy. He decides he can handle some light embarrassment if that’s the outcome, your happiness.

The show concludes with Santa and Spider-Man 2099 making one last round across the sky, snowmen dancing with snowflakes falling. They wave goodbye as they fly around before they head straight for the yellow portal, disappearing into it with a bright glow. The snowmen follow, waving goodbye, still dancing in a line as they enter the spinning star. At last there’s nothing left except for the spinning star which begins to slow down until it stops completely. It blinks in and out. Once, twice, thrice… before it explodes into tiny yellow flickers of light that begin to form words, spelling out “¡Feliz Navidad, Nueva York!”

You smile fondly as the show concludes. “That was awesome,” you say softly.

Miguel scoffs playfully. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You nod and retrieve your mug, finishing up your drink.

“And this was really good, too. I can’t decide which one I like more. Champurrado or ponche,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you ponder this.

Miguel chuckles softly. “It’s a hard choice… Now add café de olla to the mix.”

“I’m choosing café de olla.”

Miguel blinks at how fast you responded, then chuckles again. “I’m taking that as a cue from you.”

You laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that but if you’re still offering, I’m not declining,” you say with a little shrug, which amuses Miguel.

He gestures back to the kitchen. “It’s amazing with sweet tamales.”

And that’s all it takes for the two of you to find yourselves back in the kitchen island with different mugs now holding café de olla. Since he recalled all those previous years, Miguel finds himself sharing those days, telling you all about Gabriel and how excited he was each year. You smile as he shares those fond memories, making you wish you could’ve met the younger O’Hara brother with the cheeky smile.

It’s past midnight when you look around the kitchen, noticing the pans and pots. The two of you have been sitting here just talking and drinking coffee but you realize you should probably head home soon.

“May I help you clean up?” you ask Miguel.

And of course, he immediately shakes his head. “Thank you but don’t worry about it. I got it.”

You frown softly. “I don’t mind. That way it’s done quicker and you can rest sooner. You must be tired after cooking all on your own.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he replies gently but you shake your head.

“Please. It’s the least I can do. We’ll tackle it quicker together. C’mon,” you say, standing up.

“Y/N,” Miguel replies, almost grumpily because the last thing he wants is for you to be doing any cleaning when you’re his guest but you’re already around the kitchen island, facing him.

“Does it matter what containers I use?” you ask him.

Miguel stares at you, wishing he could glare at you for insisting on doing this but he finds himself unable to. All he does is pout and shake his head before he stands up, giving up and accepting your help. Midway through the cleaning he decides it’s a good thing anyway, since it means that you’re spending more time with him here at his penthouse. It also gives him more time to build the courage and give you your Christmas gift. After some time, the kitchen is spotless and the food has been stored away. You neatly fold a towel over the counter before walking back to the chairs. It’s about 12:30 am, Christmas Day. You know it’s time to head home now as you want Miguel to rest, and you could use some sleep yourself. You reach for your coat, swinging it over your arm, thinking about something.

“I should head home now. It’s pretty late and you must be tired,” you say, looking at Miguel just as he walks around the kitchen island to meet you.

He leans on the counter with one hand. “I’m not too tired, don’t worry,” he says with a small grin. Miguel’s definitely a bit tired but he’ll gladly stay up later if it means you’ll stay a bit longer.

“You should still get some rest,” you reply with a small. “Thank you so much for dinner. As always, I loved everything.”

Miguel nods slowly. “Always. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You hum in response, smiling. You nod, ready to wish him a Merry Christmas before heading out but he straightens up.

“Before you go…” Miguel starts, trailing off. He looks at the tree, gaining that courage at last. “Here.”

He walks to the tree and retrieves a holiday gift bag from behind it. Your eyebrows raise in surprise and for some strange reason, your heart speeds up. Did Miguel get you a gift?

Miguel walks back to you, standing just a few feet away before he hands it to you. He feels his own heart race as he watches you carefully accept the bag, with your eyes filled with surprise.

“Oh… Miguel. You didn’t have to, really,” you say so softly as you stare at the bag. “But… thank you. Thank you, Miguel,” you say with a warm smile before you remember what you were thinking about just a minute ago. “Wait, can you give me like five minutes? I need to go home. I’ll be right back, I promise,” you say as you gently place his gift bag on the counter. “I’ll be right back, is that okay with you?”

Miguel nods, wondering why you need to go home, though a part of him suspects the reason. “Yes, that’s okay. I’ll wait here.”

You nod eagerly, smiling as you begin to walk backwards, heading to the living room. “I’ll be right back!”

You head to the living room, quickly opening a portal as you do so. You return to your dimension and in less than five minutes you’re back in Nueva York. You walk back into the kitchen and dining area of Miguel’s penthouse with a large box wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper and an equally tall gift bag. You find Miguel exactly where he stayed when you left and upon seeing the box and bag, his eyebrows raise gently, surprised. You approach him slowly.

“I was debating… giving it to you,” you start gently. “I didn’t know if you’d find the gesture - as too much - and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I hope it doesn’t,” you finish softly as you offer him the box. “I hope you like it, Miguel,” you add sheepishly because you thought about it for days. What could you gift to someone who had the money to buy it himself if he didn’t have it already? What was something that you could give him that would be meaningful? You had to sit down and brainstorm.

Miguel takes the box from you because he doesn’t want you to keep holding such a large box on top of a gift bag on your own, even if you’re Spider-Woman and you can certainly carry more than that.

“You didn’t have to,” Miguel says softly as he feels the weight. “Thank you, Y/N,” he says looking up at you, taken aback. He wasn’t thinking about receiving gifts nor did he buy anything for himself as he’s not really about receiving gifts, at least not since he was a kid.

You nod and smile. “Always. And here’s the gift bag, too.”

Miguel places the box on the kitchen island and accepts the bag. “Are you sure?” he asks, raising his eyebrows again. “Whatever is in the box, I think that’s - I hope you didn’t waste too much money,” he says, nervously.

“Don’t worry about that, please. You don’t have to open it now if you don’t want to, by the way,” you reply, thinking now that he may find it more comfortable to open it without you around.

“No, that would be rude. I’ll open it now. If you open yours,” Miguel says, meeting your gaze.

You chuckle and nod. “I’ll open it here with you then.”

“You first,” he replies, holding the gift bag you’ve given him.

You don’t argue and nod, trying to make this a pleasant moment for Miguel. You pick up the gift bag he gave you and open it, before gently pulling out decorative tissue paper. You look inside and realize there’s multiple gifts, all individually wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper. You look up at Miguel and grin softly, shaking your head at him because you’ve done something similar.

“You didn’t have to get me so many things.”

Miguel shrugs, smiling softly. “I could tell you the same thing.”

You laugh and pull out the first item. It’s a box that you carefully unwrap, revealing a white box. You open it, finding the item surrounded in tissue paper. At last, you pull it to the side and find a sweatshirt. You pull it out of the box with a smile, spreading it open to see the design on the front. It has Nueva York’s skyline printed on it and the sweatshirt is in one of your favorite colors.

“I thought since you really like sweatshirts…” Miguel says, hoping you like it.

“I love sweatshirts and I love this one! It’s so cute, thank you!” you happily tell him as you pull it towards your chest. “Seriously, I love this so much! Thank you, Miguel,” you add much softly.

Miguel grins, relieved because he can see your genuine reaction. It only makes him more excited to see you open the rest.

“Go ahead and open the others,” he says gently.

You nod happily and continue, pulling out another box but this one is heavier. After carefully unwrapping it, you’re holding a brand new tablet from this dimension.

Miguel walks closer to you, hoping you like it. “I found a way to make sure it’ll work in your dimension, much like the gizmos and other devices we use for the society. You’ll have access to any dimension’s internet, if it has internet, of course. I… I always see how much you seem to enjoy working with the tablets here and I thought you’d like your own for your personal use,” Miguel starts, sounding excited as he tells you more about it and all the features you’ll have access to.

You smile and eagerly nod, happy to see Miguel so excited as he tells you about it. You can only look at him in awe as he thought about everything and any potential issues you may have, even thinking about a protective screen and case.

“I can tell you more about it later, there’s a few more things in the bag,” Miguel says, stepping back to give you space.

You thank him once again for the tablet, suspecting that it was rather expensive. You go through the rest of the bag, finding books for you to read since you’ve told Miguel over the last months about books you’ve read, and he has noticed it himself by spotting books on your coffee table. You notice he bought books that fit your vibe perfectly, which you find endearing. Along with that, Miguel bought you multiple packages of book tabs because he also noticed some of your books back home had some, marking passages that you really liked. You smile warmly as you put those items back, thanking Miguel for being so thoughtful, into yet another gift. He packaged the books and book tabs into a reusable tote bag with some of Nueva York's most important buildings printed on it, which you absolutely love.

At last, you reach the final present. You pull it out, the item feeling familiar. You look at it with curiosity and proceed to open it with Miguel's encouragement. You smile slowly.

“Miguel…” you say softly as you reveal four records. You read the titles, recognizing the artists. You smile at him as you realize.

Lyla plays music sometimes for the two of you on Saturdays when Miguel hosts dinner and during those times, you've discovered some new music from this universe. The only problem is that they don't exist in your dimension.

“Thank you… This means so much to me. You know how much I love their music. Now I can add it to my collection. Thank you!” you tell him warmly, wishing you could give him a hug right now. “Thank you for everything, Miguel.”

Miguel grins softly and nods. “Always. I'm glad you like your gifts,” he replies, truly feeling happy. He's also glad you don't seem to mind that he got you a few things, nor find it odd that he’s bought you gifts.

“Your turn,” you tell him softly.

Miguel scoffs playfully but nods. “Alright. Which one should I open first?”

“The box,” you answer quickly, excited.

Miguel nods and moves towards the box, silently wondering what's inside as he remembers the weight. He smiles softly at you before he starts unwrapping it, slowly revealing an image on the box. He pauses as he realizes what it is.

“Y/N…” he says, looking up at you with surprise and happiness in his eyes.

“I've noticed you don't have one but that you enjoy the records back at my universe so… I thought I'd get you one. I know the sound quality from the ones here in your universe is probably better but-” you stop as Miguel shakes his head at you, his hand flat on the record player, or its packaging box at least.

“No, this one is perfect,” Miguel says in such a way that there's no room for debate. “Thank you, this is so thoughtful, Y/N. I know exactly where I'm going to set it up,” he adds softly, grinning, already thinking about the perfect place.

You smile at him, noticing a glimmer in his eyes.

“Always. I'm so happy you like it… You still have the bag though!” you remind him, chuckling.

“Right. I got too excited with the record player.”

He grabs the bag and opens it, pulling out decorative tissue paper just as gently as you did with yours, finding individual gifts wrapped as well. He chuckles to himself, finding it amusing that you both did the same thing.

He pulls out a small box and unwraps it, revealing a pair of black mittens. His eyebrows furrow, noticing they'll definitely fit. He hasn't found mittens nor gloves that fit his hands before, at least not in stores. It didn’t matter much in the last few years, considering he was always wearing his suit but now that he's been wearing his clothes and going out to retrieve groceries, he could really use them with winter and all.

He picks one up and tries it, fitting him perfectly. Miguel smiles turning his hand and that's when he sees the small personalization with his last name on the bottom of the glove in silver thread. He chuckles softly, realizing you had these custom-made for sure.

“Are they okay?” you ask.

“Yes, they're more than okay.” Miguel looks up and shows you. “They fit. I've never been able to find any for my hands since I became Spider-Man. Thank you so much, and the personalization… I've never been gifted something so personalized. Thank you, Y/N, truly” Miguel says with a smile, knowing that he'll be using them a lot for the winter.

He pulls out another box and smiles softly when he finds books. Many months ago at your apartment, Miguel mentioned that he liked to read though it's something he rarely does these days. He recalls telling you that time that he enjoyed reading history and sci-fi books, exactly the kind you got him. The fact that you remembered this tiny detail from so long ago, makes Miguel smile in appreciation. He thanks you for remembering and promises to try and read them soon, silently telling himself that for the new year, he’s going to try and get back into reading.

At last, he reaches the final package. It feels heavy and when Miguel looks at you with wonder and curiosity, he sees a glimmer in your eyes, excitement.

With your encouragement, he unwraps and opens the package. He stares into the box, feeling a warmth spread through him. He looks at you and gives you a gentle smile before he pulls out the first record.

“You…” Miguel starts quietly, with tenderness. He can't help but feel ternura for you **in this moment.

You walk closer to him, smiling. “You've mentioned liking some of the records. Some are my personal ones, others were Peter's… and I remembered you didn't have a record player, so I thought I could get you one, and also some records to help you start a collection,” you explain softly.

Miguel nods as he pulls out another record, and yes, the two he's pulled out so far are records he truly enjoys from your universe. He smiles softly at you, filled with ternura. Your gifts are so thoughtful and sweet, and the fact that you've paid attention to what records he enjoys when he’s mentioned it in passing, makes him feel heard, appreciated, and… loved.

“Thank you - so much, Y/N. For everything,” Miguel says softly, almost a whisper. “I can't wait to set the record player up and continue adding to the collection you've started for me. Thank you.”

“Always. I'm glad you like it, Miguel,” you answer softly. “And if you ever just want to borrow one of the records, let me know. I'll happily let you.”

Miguel nods, smiling gently, in appreciation. You can only return the smile before both of you notice the white, soft spots through the windows.

“Una blanca Navidad,” Miguel says quietly.

“A white Christmas,” you repeat. “Merry Christmas, Miguel,” you tell him.

Miguel smiles. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You both watch the snow for a few minutes, mentioning how excited the kids will be when they wake up before Miguel continues to appreciate every record you gifted him.

After some more talking about the records and Miguel thanking you a few times more, you stand in his living room with your tote bag and bag with gifts. A portal is behind you, waiting for you to step in to return home.

“Thank you for dinner once again. Everything was so amazing! And thank you for the thoughtful gifts, Miguel,” you tell him warmly with a smile.

“Always… I'm happy you liked dinner and the gifts.” Miguel smiles back at you and then he remembers. “Come back for the recalentado, please. Just like last year,” he says, stepping closer. Ever since opening his gifts, he's had the need to hug you but it's still too soon, still too much for him to handle.

“Of course, thank you. What time is best for you?” you ask with a grin.

Miguel pauses for a moment, thinking. And then, he invites you for breakfast.

“The recalentado is for dinner. You can go home after breakfast, don't feel pressured to be here all day. I know you probably have plans to see everyone else at some point today and then you can come back for dinner, or… If you want to spend the day here - I wouldn't mind at all but you probably have plans and-” Miguel says, scratching his neck softly, not knowing how to simply say that he’d be open to you spending the day here with him without it sounding off.

“I wouldn't mind either.”

Miguel lowers his hand. “Oh…” He smiles slowly and nods. “Then…”

“I’ll see you in the morning - or well, I guess in a few hours?”

“In a few hours then,” he replies softly. “I’ll wait for you for breakfast.”

You thank him again and with one last goodbye from both of you, you enter the portal and return home. Miguel stands in his living room, the light of the portal fading slowly. He looks past it and out the windows, the snow is really picking up now. He smiles softly, planning on doing one more thing before heading to bed for the night.

The next morning you shower and get ready to go to Miguel's universe. You grab your gizmo from the coffee table, accidentally knocking off a notice you and the entire building received earlier this month from your landlord, something about not overloading extension cords and electrical sockets because of the holidays to avoid a short circuit.

You pick it up and place it back on the table before you open a portal. You find yourself in Miguel's living room once again, only a few hours later.

The fireplace is on already, making the entire penthouse feel cozy and warm. The sound of music fills your ears, except the quality is different and you recognize the song. Your eyes search for it and you find it quickly. You smile in delight as you see that Miguel has given his new record player and records a home in his living room, and that he's already using it.

“Good morning, Merry Christmas,” Miguel says making you turn in surprise, which makes him chuckle softly.

You chuckle as you take him in. His hair is damp from a shower and he's wearing a beige sweater that looks incredibly cozy on him. He steps closer, gesturing to the record player. His scent surrounds you and you find yourself recognizing every aspect of it - from his shampoo to his body wash and his shaving products to his deodorant and cologne, to his scent alone. You blink, surprised at yourself by how well you recognize the different notes of his scent, even months later since you helped him shower when he was injured and nearly lost his life back in the spring.

You push those thoughts away and smile at Miguel as he tells you about how he set up the record player after you left and that he's been playing music from it since he woke up. You don’t fail to notice the happy tone in his voice as he tells you about it before he leads you to the kitchen and dining area of his penthouse where a lovely breakfast, cooked by Miguel, awaits the two of you.

Over music and conversation, you have breakfast together. You don’t leave afterward and instead stick around, especially when Miguel mentioned there was a holiday special for the movie series the two of you got into when he was recovering from his injuries in the spring. And so, you spent the entirety of the day in each other's presence on this Blanca Navidad.

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄

Translations: café de olla - Mexican coffee made in a pot pan dulce - Mexican sweet bread tinga - Latin dish made out of meat (pork, chicken) in sauce with onions, chiles chipotle, and tomatoes. Can be eaten on tostadas or as burritos (my experience) and topped with different toppings like sour cream, salsa, lettuce. burritos - I think everyone knows this tostadas - toasted tortillas; usually used as a base for different culinary dishes pozole - A kind of soup/stew made from hominy and meat (can be chicken or beef) and can be green or red, based on what chiles are used rajas de chile poblano - slices of chile poblano queso fresco - fresh cheese ponche - a Mexican Christmas punch made out of fresh fruit, spices (like hibiscus flowers), and sugar cane champurrado - chocolate-based atole, which is made of masa harina (in my experience). buñuelos - Christmas dessert; fried dough fritter (so good with atole) "Ya lo sabia" - "I knew it" agua de Jamaica - hibiscus tea Dia de Los Muertos - Day of the Dead ofrenda - altar for Day of the Dead recalentado - word translates to "reheated" but this is when you invite your closest friends and family to eat the reheated leftovers from the previous day of some event. It's supposed to be a smaller tight-knit group situation and less formal since it's with close friends/family. "una blanca Navidad" - "a white Christmas" "mira" - "look" Feliz Navidad - Merry Christmas ternura - endearment, tenderness; I still can't find a word in English that makes me feel like the word "ternura" does

_____________

Long A/N: Merry Christmas! I was hoping to have this out sooner, but the holidays got to me. I was also not planning on writing anything like this for Nonviolent Communication, but then I was like

Didn't I write a Christmas part (for Nonviolent Communication) back in like September because Christmas and Miguel just sound so cozy and warm? And now when it's the holidays I'm gonna miss the chance to write something for the story? In this economy? No. So, I got the idea and started writing, and here it is now! Thank you to everyone who responded to this post regarding what you'd give Miguel for Christmas. I had a horrible migraine while working on this yesterday and my brain was not cooperating. Thank you to @winniethewife for mentioning mittens! And thank you to @lulu-baked-beans for the lovely idea of gifting Miguel a record player and some records to start his own collection! I already had Miguel set to gift reader some records from his universe, so this was such a perfect little coincidence!

I hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you for reading if you got this far! Happy Holidays! ❤️🎄

Also, here's a little BTS of me working on this with someone special who arrived Friday (just in time to help with the tamales and everything else 🤣). He said he'd go with café de olla, too!

[silver99johnlocked]

During season 2, after Jack finally accepts to believe in Will, they plot against Hannibal. Their plot is based on Will gaining Hannibal's trust by getting close to him one more time, but this time having no secrets between the two of them. Will makes it clear to Hannibal that he knows the truth and says that he still wants to be with him.

So basically Will's trying to pass this image to Hannibal: 'I know you're a killer and even though I wanted to turn you in before, it was only because you framed me and I got pissed. But to be honest, now that the anger is gone, I've realised that I'm actually really interested in making killing associations with you, just like you told me about all along. We could go off together and leave this play pretend life behind us so we can be our true selves and I can embrace the new person you made out of me.'

Hannibal is absolutely thrilled about it. He buys it. He fiercely wants it to be true. That's why when he finds out that Will is about to betray him, he gives him little second chances just to be sure. Because he doesn't want to believe Will would do that to him. He couldn't stand that.

The thing is that Will actually really cares about Hannibal. He's not a 'black or white' person. He inhabits the grey area of morality. He knows what's the right thing to do, yet he found in Hannibal the only person who truly understands and respects him. He can't simply betray Hannibal like that. That was never his plan. He chose his own side. He couldn't be 100% on Jack or Hannibal's side. He chose to play by the law but still give Hannibal a chance to escape. He calls and warns Hannibal that the police are coming. He's literally telling him to go and be safe.

What Will didn't predict was how much Hannibal cared about him. He only realizes that when he arrives at his house in 2x13. Abigai is alive. The reason why he never entirely took Hannibal's side, the reason why he couldn't forgive him.

Will asks her about Hannibal and he's right there behind him. The first thing he says: "You were supposed to leave". He's angry. He didn't want all this mess. He knew it would put people he cared about in danger but most of all, he wanted Hannibal free and safe. Even more so now. Maybe he would even join him after. But this isn't right, why would Hannibal risk everything like this? It doesn't make sense.

Hannibal: "We couldn't leave without you"

Will's entire face changes when he hears that. He underestimated the influence he had on Hannibal. He thought he was a pure psychopath, incapable of feelings, yet here he is, putting his own life at risk for the sake of another human being. But that's not everything. The cherry on the top is when Hannibal reveals that he wanted Abigail to be a surprise. He cared about Will so god damn much that he wasn't able to kill her because he knew how important she was to Will. He cared about Will so god damn much that he was willing to leave his entire (loner, detached, successful) life behind in order to flee and live as a family.

But that couldn't happen, because Will betrayed him. He made a place for their family, he actually made a romantic gesture but Will surprised him by choosing not to go with him. He chose Jack's side even if he did warn Hannibal about it. That detail doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that Will didn't choose to be with Hannibal.

Hannibal: I let you know me, see me. I gave you a rare gift, but you didn't want it.

Will: Didn't I?

Hannibal: You would deny me my life.

Will: No. No, not your life. No.

Hannibal: My freedom then, you would take that from me. Confine me to a prison cell. Do you believe you could change me the way I changed you?

Will: I already did.

And that's the moment, my friends. Will really only realized that there and then but he now knows that yes he did change Hannibal. He made Hannibal actually truly care for him. Hannibal made Will see his dark side but Will made Hannibal see his good side. They have blended so much that each internalised a part of the other. And when Will states this, Hannibal can't accept it. He, in all his glory, cannot accept to be changed by anyone, not even Will. He turns to pettiness to prove a point, like a child throwing a tantrum. In an anger attack, he does the unforgivable (by undoing his good deeds) and kills Abigail, simply to try and prove Will wrong. It's low, it's difficult, and that's why he's left heartbroken, because he knows immediately he fucked up. He knows Will will probably never forgive him for it.

At the end of the episode Will is dying next to Abigail and he is still able to see the wounded stag as a representation of how deeply heartbroken Hannibal is by everything that has happened. He's pure empathy after all, he sees through Hannibal's facade right into his heart. And he also aches for their separation because now he understands what it all really meant to Hannibal. He wasn't simply playing catch with the police, he put his body and soul into their escape because he really thought he had found someone with whom he could share his life without having to hide his true self. Will's betrayal cuts deep because it's not on his ego, it's on his very soul.

[george-weasleys-girl]

HI. You can choose whichever of the two (Fred or George, George or Fred, Gred and Forge) or you can do for both of them. I read your prompt list and two of them caught my eye. “First one who makes a noise loses” and “Let’s make a baby.” I anticipate as what you have in mind, you can choose one or both if needed..!

Thank you for your request, lovely! This is my first smut fic.😬I hope you enjoy it!

Oh, So Quiet

18+ only

George Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, George tries to be a teasing jerk, fails miserably.

~•~

Y/N grinned. She knew that look, and the fact that, seconds later, George grabbed her hand and pulled her upstairs and into the back of the warehouse proved it.

"You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?" He growled, pressing her against the little corner table.

"Whatever do you mean?" She titled her head, eyes widened.

"You know I can't resist you in that skirt," he moved his hands down her hips and began pushing it up.

Y/N licked her lips, admiring the growing bulge inside his pants. "Oh my, is this that skirt?"

George cocked an eyebrow as he slid his hand between her legs and damn near came then and there when he realized she had a little surprise waiting for him. "No panties?"

"Dear me," she gasped in mock surprise. "I knew there was something I was forgetting this morning."

He pressed her tightly to him grinding his still clothed erection against her exposed pussy. A soft moan fell from her lips, and she reached down to unbutton his pants. But he stopped her mid-movement, trapping both of her hands in one of his. Two can play at this game.

"First one who makes a noise, loses," he mummered in her ear, grinning and absolutely confident that he'd win this little wager.

Y/N smiled and hopped onto the table, spreading herself wide. "You're on."

~•~

It took every ounce of willpower George had to keep himself quiet. He'd never realized how much noise he actually made during sex until he could no longer make a sound. And yet, even as he angled himself to hit the spot that turned his wife into a quivering, moaning mess, he couldn't pull even the tiniest whimper from her open mouth.

George bit down hard on his lip, watching as his cock disappeared over and over inside Y/N's pulsing heat. He sped up his pace, knowing they only had a few minutes before Verity or one of the other employees came looking for them. He instinctively turned to look behind them, just as Y/N clenched around him, snapping his attention back to her.

Her head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and lips drawn tightly together as her orgasm crashed over her. It was more than he could take, and he exploded inside her, unable to stop the guttural moan that escaped his lips.

"Fuck," he chuckled, letting his head fall forward to rest on her shoulder, his hips pumping lazily, riding out the last of their highs.

"I win," she panted, her cheekiness evident even through her breathlessness.

"Indeed you did," he grinned, shifting a little so he could look at her. But much to their disappointment, they didn't have time to bask in the afterglow.

"Mr. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley?" Simon's squeeky voice drifted through the warehouse.

George sighed and pulled out with a soft groan, then quickly got himself in order. "I'll take care of this while you get presentable again," he said, giving her a quick kiss before sprinting around the corner.

~•~

*if you don't want to be tagged in future smut, please let me know!

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @smallsweetvanillabean @themaraudersslut @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @scooby-doo1995 @phant0mkitsune @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

My Jason Todd Rec List and Character Manifesto! (Edited and updated 28/01/2024)

This is a fuckin mess my ghouls, but I got categories and I got opinions and who can stop me from typing em out? Certainly not @lazaruspiss who is the reason this thing got made!

The format is gonna be

title and page numbers (No #s if I'm recommending the whole title) picture Summary and general notes My estimate of how unhinged he is in this portrayal What his morals are like; note this isn't about whether he's a protagonist or antagonist

Since cream rises to the top, let us start with:

The Creme de la Creme

The best of the best. The most fun, the most compelling, the most interesting looks into his character.

Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72

This one really does have it all. Jason runs rings around both Batman and Green Arrow at the same time, all the while going after a goal neither of them ever truly figures out in large part because this story wasn't afraid to let Bruce be either wrong or lying about Jason's motives. It also wonderfully leverages the ways in which the Bats and the Arrows are really good foils for each other. I think I'm going to be turning over the ways these interactions went down for a long ass time. I've been really wanting to go page by page for a comparison between the way Jason treats Mia in this and the way Jason treats Tim in the Titans Tower showdown. Bottom line for this one: It's just so good!

Jason's sanity level: Six out of Ten hinges affixed. He's got a solid grip on things, is reasonably level headed, only problem is he might have completely forgotten how to interact with other human beings outside of combat. Love him for that.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Sympathetic Villain. Decidedly willing to mow down some "brain donors", and his goals are pretty morally grey, but he clearly still has a strong code of ethics.

Joker: the Man Who Stopped Laughing

With Jason's return to being an antagonist after a long stint in the Hero bin comes his return to being really fucking dangerous and whip smart! My boy quotes serious philosophy that gives him a real point to make against non lethal vigilantes and cops! I also think the part where he lets himself be arrested just... it says so much and all of it is wonderfully interesting and feels fitting for his character. He's kept deeply human, and just all of this portrayal gels together really well.

At the time of writing, this comic isn't finished yet, so I'm going off of like 12 issues in which he appears less than the Joker, but what is there is phenomenal, even with Gotham War having... Minorly Derailed Jason's role in things, and one or two inevitable scenes where ya just have to accept that he's not as trigger happy as he should be because DC is married to the Joker.

Also I like that he's friends with my favorite, Stephanie Brown :3 and he and Rose's chemistry is nice. On top of all that? It's a fun comic. Like, I generally hate the Joker, but I found myself enjoying watching the Joker do his Joker things in this one.

Jason's sanity level: Nine out of Ten hinges affixed. Level headed, calm, careful, really the only reason this isn't a 10/10 is cause he's obsessively focused, which like, honestly is pretty reasonable I think.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Clearly Justified Antihero. I almost put down Hero on this one, but ultimately he is just far enough over the line with how he treats the less threatening of the rogues like Killer Moth.

Batman (1940) #408 - #411 Jason's debut featuring Ma Gunn's School and his first ever outing as Robin fighting Two-Face

Just LOOK at this PRECIOUS BOY! I wanna pinch him on his cheeks and give him a handful of these bad boys

Jason has a ton of personality to him right out the gate. The first story has Ma Gunn as the villain and she's a lot of fun. The second story in here with Two-Face is also enlightening with regards to Jason's early personality, even if it's not quite as fun.

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Hero.

Under the Red Hood would be next if it wasn't already filed under ->

Foundational Texts

This is the shit that defines Jason as a character. Much is mutable in any given comic, but somehow, someway, all depictions of Jason are impacted and informed by these three stories. Enough has been said about all of them that I'm gonna keep it brief.

Red Hood: The Lost Days

Jason's sanity level: Eight out of Ten hinges affixed.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Antihero. He kills some incredibly nasty people, while also doing some genuinely heroic shit. The only places where his morals deteriorate are in the presence of Batman and the Joker.

Under the Red Hood

Jason's sanity level: Four out of Ten hinges affixed. Remember how his morals deteriorated in the face of Batman and the Joker? Yeah, that's mostly because he's way, way too personally invested to think straight about them. He's strategic as fuck, but this is not a stable man's strategy for dealing with his issues.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Sympathetic Villain. He is a revenant, a vengeful juggernaut, and breaks an awful lot of eggs making this brilliant disaster of an omelette.

Batman (1940) #426 - #429 A Death in the Family

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Hero.

Joker becoming an ambassador to Iran plotlines count: One too many.

Solid Storylines

These ain't the vaulted heights, but not everything has to be the Sistine Chapel. They're solid, and if you're wanting more Jason I do certainly recommend them.

Countdown Presents: The Search for Ray Palmer and Countdown to Infinite Crisis

Jason is in what I like to call his Purposeless Depression Era during this. It's after his plans in Under the Red Hood fail and he's really just got no place to go, no place to be, and in fact is keenly aware that on a cosmic level, he truly does not belong in this world anymore. He's supposed to be dead. There's something I find quite neat about this team up, with Donna Troy and Kyle Raynor and Bob, it's out of the ordinary for Jason, it's not bat related, and the ways he fits and doesn't fit with the other characters are just neat.

I especially recommend Gotham by Gaslight. The plot will be a lil hard to follow if you haven't read the others, but Jason by the end hopes to return to Victorian Era Steampunk Gotham and the moments of him hoping to literally leave his universe behind are both sweet and sorrowful.

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed. He's just sad and lonely.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Hero. Even if only Donna is willing to tentatively try to see him that way.

Robin (1993) #177 and one page of #182 and the front half of #183

Despite how much Jason is known for it, I think this is the only time we see him trying to run organized crime outside of Under the Red Hood (and uh debatably Battle for the Cowl). Short lil string of appearances, but critical for understanding how he's seen by Tim during this era if you care about that, and it really cemented my understanding of Jason being strangely honest and forthright.

I think the major way other Bats fail to comprehend him is that they expect him to manipulate through lying, which just isn't his style. He doesn't lie about his motives; he doesn't obfuscate his tactics; he doesn't hide how he's feeling. Hell, he doesn't even try to lie his way out of prison! I could not tell you why this series of interactions gave me this impression but it is why I have such faith that when Jason says something, he probably just means it, even when characters like Dick or Tim assume otherwise.

Pity this was the lead up to Battle for the Cowl.

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed. He's even attempting to pick himself up out of his Purposeless Depression Era slump at the start.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Antihero.

Nightwing (1996) #118 - #122 aka Brothers in Blood aka the One Where Jason Gets Tentacles

COWARDS and KNAVES will tell you "the tentacles are so icky and everyone is so OOC" or whatever but again they are KNAVES and COWARDS because bitch this shit is GREAT

Jason: Wow! My bestest big brother killed someone who deserved it, so now I (the person he's rejecting only because I kill people who deserved it) have a real chance at being his family again!! :D Hooray! :) Dickie-Bird why don't you look happy to see me? :) Dickie-Bird I went out of my way to get us matching outfits and stalked your work and killed people in your name so it's nice and easy to make room for me in your life! :) :) :)

Dick:

Jason's sanity level: Two out of Ten hinges affixed. My mans is off his rocker and I adore him like this. Frankly, the entire storyline is unhinged, and it only feels appropriate that Jason is similarly bonkers in yonkers.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Villain. You can sympathize with him, and he is still trying to carry out justice, but I have to call it for straight villain when he's threatening to bomb a building full of innocent people.

Batman and Robin (2009) #23 - #25

I don't have much to say about this one. It's good. The above page is pretty much the highlight.

Wait actually I do have something to say and it is that I would like to lick Jason's abs, pls & thx, because the other highlight is that Winick clearly believes in redeeming Jason's value as a villain through sex appeal and it is working lmao

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed. Certifiably sane, he's passed all his psych exams!

Jason's moral compass bearing: Villain. He threatens to bomb a train station full of innocent people. While he does do that in service of freeing himself and Scarlet, thus making it not completely self centered, I still gotta put him firmly in Villain.

Nightwing (2016) 2021 Annual

In high contrast to the previous two in which Jason acts as a villain to Dick, this one has them working together and the tentative peace and cautious trust they've got going is interesting to me. This Team Z era Jason is interesting to me in general, though I don't know much about him.

Jason's sanity level: Nine out of Ten hinges affixed. He's quite chill, but there's just this little edge to him that says his relationship to violence is a little too casual a little too deep to really be fully hinged.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Edgy Hero.

Your Mileage May Vary

These stories I can't recommend without major caveats or warnings, but I still think are worth mentioning.

Gotham War (It's such a mangled mess that I'm just gonna link a reading guide.)

So, the main problem here is that Gotham War spans five different titles and had three different authors whose renditions of Jason do not feel cohesive or even coherent. The funny thing is though, each rendition has real merits, and while it doesn't go far enough in condemning Bruce's horrifying treatment of Jason for many people's tastes, I have to point out that it's one of the only comics to condemn an instance of Bruce mistreating Jason at all. The fact that the other Robins come to his defense is a HUGE thing! The bar may be in Hell, but it did clear the bar!

Due to how disjointed it is, I'm going to very loosely separate Jason out into two versions of himself. Think of these not as hard lines, but more a spectrum he slides across depending on what author has him that issue.

Jason Primus combines the ideas in Jason's Under the Red Hood speech about controlling crime rather than trying to stomp it out with his more Heroic modern interpretation. He's a chill, funny, smart guy whose protectiveness over the mooks is really charming.

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed. Jason's moral compass bearing: Hero.

Jason Secundus is much more violent, not used to working with other people, and paranoid and antsy in a way that causes him to take it out on people who really don't deserve it. This is a compelling take on him, though I like him closer to Jason Primus. His trauma has clearly shaped him a lot, both for better and for worse.

Jason's sanity level: Seven out of Ten hinges affixed. Jason's moral compass bering: Anti-Hero, most of this focuses on him antagonizing two former Joker goons which kinda doesn't work well cause they're mostly scarecrow goons actually and also at one point he hurts them in a way that borderline just seems like stress relief. It's nothing worse than what we see Batman himself doing countless times, but it's still jarring because we've been made to strongly sympathize with the goon in question.

Batman: Three Jokers <- I read it while typing this up, so I got a lotta thoughts

Guh, this one is just fucking sad

So, I don't mind a story being blunt with its message as long as the message actually holds up. Unfortunately, this three parter's attempt at the cycle of violence lesson is... bad. Real bad.

Jason in it is neat! This is a good Jason portrayal somehow despite literally everything about the way this comic frames him! The narrative expects us to believe he is a danger to society on the cusp of becoming another Joker, because he *checks notes* shot the Joker dead, shot at a Joker loyal guy, and roughly interrogated an injured child abuser. At no point does he show signs of wanting to hurt innocent people. At no point does he show signs of doing any hurting without premeditation or a need to defend himself. I'm baffled by this.

My kingdom for a fucking CRUMB of nuance, I swear, smh...

I hear a lot of people hate his one sided romance towards Barbara. This is understandable as it squanders the opportunity to have a female character not be stuck as the narrative sponge for man emotions. I like it from the perspective of a Jason fan, and give condolences for the Barbara fans. It's not healthy, and good fucking job on the janitor sweeping away his letter to her so poor Babs doesn't have to deal with that shit, but I do like Jason's desperation to be loved by someone, anyone, who might show him compassion.

Jason's sanity level: Six out of Ten hinges affixed. He's sad, he's lonely, he needs some PTSD specific therapy, he's a bit creepy about his crush on Barbara, but quite frankly he has it together a lot more than the narrative would like us to believe. The way the other characters treat him like he's some kind of monster just waiting to snap and start maiming people indiscriminately makes me really uncomfortable.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Antihero. Quite frankly I'm tempted to say Hero out of spite.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #1 - #43

There are three transcendental character moments in this run that I think make it worth reading even if not all of it's your cup of tea. On the other hand though there are some big issues that could very easily be deal breakers. Oh and anything after #43 is a wasteland and #43 is included purely for the implication that being transgender made a woman immortal.

The narrative structure is really heavily dependent on rule of emotional impact/cool/allegorical usefulness. Many events will not make any fucking sense based on petty things like basic logic or the laws of physics, but they do work just fine in the area of what makes the story more fun or the emotional beats hit harder. Stronger than average suspension of disbelief is necessary for the reward of getting a lot of stuff that's, like, just really fuckin cool.

The romantic side plot with Artemis is... odd. Either the author, Scott Lobdell, intended to write Jason as a desperate loser trying to date his uninterested lesbian friend who he co-parents with, or he accidentally wrote a romance so awkward and comp-het that I cannot wrap my head around reading it as reciprocated. This works for me because I have a lot of fun reading Jason as a desperate loser who's not even actually in love with her, he just is desperate to cling to the closest thing he's ever gotten to a nuclear family and in denial about being either aro/ace or gay.

Now, lets explore a lil bit of the whole Jason is a loser angle, cause it's not the whole story, there are many points in which Jason gets to be a badass motherfucker, but he is much, much less of the hypercompetant, highly determined, murderous threat he used to be. Almost none of the newer renditions of Jason are. This Jason in particular though is very soft and cuddly, and fits the archetype of man trying to be the edgy bad boy but who secretly just wants a hug and a warm glass of milk.

If I were to describe my personal Jason in a few sentences I would say that he is someone who loves himself viciously. He feels he has been wronged and is willing to burn down the world to rectify that. He will hold your ass at gunpoint and demand the hugs and warm glasses of milk that he fucking well deserves!

This Jason is about as far away from that as you can possibly get. I still like him though, and I do not count him as being a different character, because when you start with emotional logic that goes like this:

It wasn't my fault + I deserve better = I get to burn the world down in order to get better

It becomes extremely difficult to ever stop burning the world without also deciding "It was my fault" or "I don't deserve better". Jason is meant to have changed a lot, and this is a plausible evolution of the Jason I prefer.

Finally, the handling of Bizarro, a mentally disabled character, is a sensitive enough topic that your mileage will vary, even if I can't think of a bad thing to say about it. Jason and Artemis are really pretty good about treating him with respect, giving him help where he needs it and autonomy where he's capable of taking it. They raise him, but don't control him, and he is literally three days old when they find him so this isn't infantilization. It takes the framing of Lenny from of Mice and Men and Flowers for Algernon and rejects them in a way that I am satisfied with. You'll just have to read it for yourself to see if you're satisfied as well.

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed. I kinda wish he was more unhinged.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Hero. He even saves a puppy and gives them pats.

Knight Terrors: Robin

Have you ever been in the mood for a syrupy sweet hurt/comfort fanfiction in which Jason and Tim were magically forced to talk about how much they like each other in order to overcome their own insecurities? Do you wish that existed as a lavishly illustrated two issue comic?

If you answered yes to those two questions then congratulations! It does exist, this is it, go have fun!

If you think that sounds like ham fisted garbage turning what should be several long arcs of serious reconciliation and deeply meaningful character moments into two issue fan service schlock then condolences! I wish you all the best in denial, as all comic fans sail that river sooner or later and I shall join you upon it someday.

What category do I fall into? Well I think this is definitely ham fisted, but I won't kick a boar out of bed as long as they ain't a bore, and this little ditty is certainly entertaining.

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed.

Jason't moral compass bearing: Hero.

Batman and Robin Eternal

This is a decent portrayal of Jason in his modern, much friendlier, and much more bat family integrated rendition. He has some fun moments in it, and I like his staby bracers.

I don't like this comic. It commits the most dire of writing sins: Being boring. I think about Jason every second of every minute of every day; if your comic that majorly features a good portrayal of him cannot hold my attention, then something has gone very wrong. Hopefully one of you will like it more than I do.

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Hero.

Suicide Squad: Get Joker! (Content warning for suicide, skip to the hot take if this'll get to ya - also spoiler warning cuz I can't discuss this properly without discussing the ending)

A three issue miniseries in which Jason is inducted into the Suicide Squad on a mission to kill the Joker. He's highly competent as a team leader, grounded, intelligent, and uses measured violence in a way that is satisfyingly tactical. The squad they threw together honestly has some pretty neat chemistry as a whole, and the characters were appropriately messy and quite likable.

This isn't higher on the list because it thinks it earned it's ambiguous ending, and frankly, it's wrong about that. Ambiguous endings live and die by the question they make the audience sit with - It has to be worth losing out on the emotional payoff of a solid ending.

The question of "If you left Jason in a room with the Joker and a gun with one bullet, would he shoot the Joker or himself?" is a really shitty question. Like, did the authors not realize that just on a logistical level, Jason could leave the room and find a second bullet after shooting the Joker? Like, seriously, even if we accept the premise that Joker's speech got to Jason, there are no reasons for him not to choose the "both" option. The only way I can imagine this working is if the Joker is actually the fucking Purple Man from Jessica Jones using mind control.

So we exchanged the validation of literally all our protagonists' struggles/sacrifices paying off for... the vague implication that Jason unforgivably betrayed his teammates, himself, and the entire world because he was so eager to die that he couldn't wait ten fucking minutes. If I loved the Joker I might feel differently about it, but as is, I felt insulted.

This would have been Solid Storylines or maybe even Creme de la Creme if not for that implication. It's not boring though! The rest of it up to the end is honestly pretty damn good, if a bit convoluted, and much of the ending's sour taste can be assuaged by getting out a sheet of paper and doodling Jason opening Joker's head with a handgun and then going out for icecream with the team.

Jason's sanity level: Ten out of Ten hinges affixed. He's a sad, sad lad tho.

Jason's Moral Compass Bearing: Anti-Hero, forced to be much more violent than he wants to be.

A Hot Take

I bet you thought the tentacles were the hot take! HAH! MuahahaahhHAHAHAH - Prepare now, puny mortals, to witness me defend Pill Helmet Jason AND his fashion choices!

No, I am not talking about Winick's redo late in the game, we've already been over that one. I mean I will defend Grant Morrison's flop era, three foot head gear wearin, goofy ass, unwashed ass, "how to build ur brand" reading maniac

It's time to talk about Batman and Robin (2009) #1 - #6

The interpretation of one scene makes or breaks this Jason:

If you believe he is being insincere and manipulating her into putting all her emotional eggs in the basket of his crusade, ignoring her wellbeing in favor of his 'brand', then this is probably the worst mischaracterization of Jason ever written.

If you believe he is being sincere, genuinely comforting her in the only way that he's got to deal with his own trauma, giving her real affection and not pushing her to take either option with the mask because he trusts her to make that decision for herself, then this gets Jason very right.

No matter what Morrison might have intended, I choose to believe it's the latter. This is terrible advice to give a trauma victim, but it makes perfect sense for Jason to believe that about his own trauma, and thus to pass that maladaptive view along. He doesn't try to assure her that the mask can come off safely or that he'll get her a doctor because he really can't promise her either of those things. It would be cruel to her to pretend that he's got a solution. Jason can't undo the damage that was done to her any more than he can force a dead Bruce to kill the Joker.

Instead he offers her purpose, and reassurance that she's gonna look badass if she never does take it off, and protects her when she's in trouble.

You can claim this is just him acting out his chosen Hero role, but like, WHY would he have chosen to method act that role 24/7 if he wasn't trying to BE a Hero who protects people like Scarlet? There's nothing in it for Jason to fake this.

I also think if he was being written out of character as a manipulator we would have seen him use a romantic or sexual angle which he absolutely doesn't do.

Dickie, you are such a funny Batman, they never shoulda brought Bruce back tbh.

Instead, he seems to be taking a more parental role, in a near perfect reflection of how Bruce took him in when he was a kid. Just he's doing it his way, meaning that whenever Scarlet goes further with the violence than Jason seems to want to, he backs her up instead of chastising her.

Speaking of violence and morals, Let the Punishment Fit the Crime is a coherent moral position to take, even if you (understandably) disagree with it, or disagree with what punishments fit which crimes. It's basically the same moral position as every other version of Jason there's ever been! Like, is he even killing more people than he used to in stories like Under the Red Hood? No, I don't think he is.

The branding thing is weird, lil annoying too after a while, but ultimately it still makes sense. And brings me around to my promised defense of his fashion choices.

First of all the symbolic importance of the fact that he wears white cannot be overstated in my mind. Will I elaborate? No, this post is way too long already lmao! Second off, it's supposed to be silly. I believe the silliness was a conscious, calculated choice, and the right one to make.

Jason doesn't believe that fear works, he's not trying for pure intimidation, and he knows that he's going to have to appeal to people in his bid to be seen as a Hero. Making himself seem big but non-threatening, a bright patch in the night, makes real sense.

Take a look at this view of Jason from Scarlet's POV when he comes to rescue her from the cops after she kills her dad:

He's got a smoking gun in his hand and he just shot two people dead, yet we're hard fuckin pressed to find him intimidating aren't we?? Cornball dialogue, and the silliest fuckin hat in the universe, because he's not meant to be from this era, he's emulating the Golden and Silver age comics and all their goofiness. He's trying to be the older, happier, sillier batman that used to exist (at least in his head), while doing what he believes is right and necessary.

The costume makes sense dammit!

Also it just doesn't look bad, I can't provide an argument for this, it's just true!!

Also also every one of these fuckers should be wearing a helmet too, this is basic brain safety, if you're gonna go around antagonizing fuckers with guns you need to make your head at least nominally bulletproof, it's that simple!!!

Now... do I recommend you read this? (This section was rewritten on January 28th, 2024)

Yes, with significant caveats. There's a reason I chunked this in with YMMV.

First is the Batman typical ableism of just really fucked depictions of mental illness. I normally wouldn't warn for this because everyone knows most of the rogues and will be aware of what they bring to the table, but Professor Pyg is obscure enough I wouldn't expect people to know, and the way he's written just... hurts. Like there's just something about him that is painful to read as someone that's got several schizophrenic friends who are near and dear to my heart. I would hesitate to recommend it to any of them the same way I'd hesitate to recommend Silence of the Lambs to most other trans people.

Secondly this comic is Extremely Gay (a definite positive!) however it is Extremely Gay in a way that kinda requires some onboarding and analysis to properly parse and that is actually why this post was edited:

The first time I read this comic, my impression was that it was vitriolically homophobic. Considering that at the time I had heard many things about Grant Morrison, and none of them good, I went with my gut. I put here that while I would defend Jason's characterization, I couldn't in good faith recommend something so bigoted, detailed what felt bigoted, and went on with my day.

Then a while later I saw a post that I suspect was talking about this one saying something along the lines of "How the hell could you call Grant Morrison, who gave us so many of our most iconic gay characters, homophobic? The racism and such I can understand but homophobic? No."

To which my initial response was a resounding: Wha??? Like, genuinely how was I supposed to read this and not get homophobia out of it?? But I went and looked Morrison up and yeah sure enough the guy's queer so I dug deeper and mulled it over until I figured out what the fuck I was missing. So, this section is a correction and an apology about that earlier homophobia claim. Sorry about that.

The styling of this queerness are highly akin to that of the John Waters movie Pink Flamingos which I'll let Matt Baume explain better than I ever could. This guy right here is pretty much the perfect example, Hell, he's even literally named The Flamingo.

Essentially it's queerness is all aggressive, unapologetic, and designed to be provocatively shocking, which can be jarring if you're not ready to flow with it. Also he likely had to arrange a lot of things to get around censorship, same as Judd Winick did. For instance the fact that Dick spoke the same circus lingo as the police precinct destroying troupe of Very Queer Freakshow Workers was meant to imply that Dick is Very Queer too. Pretty sure he would've said that in a far less convoluted way if he could've.

So, with the bulk of my initial reservations about this comic disproven... I have no choice but to straight up recommend it to anyone who thinks they can jive with this vibe of storytelling!

Jason's sanity level: One out of Ten hinges affixed. Obsessive, not taking care of himself, possessed of some really maladaptive trauma coping frameworks, completely unhinged. My condolences to his mental health, but I do love to see it.

Jason's moral compass bearing: Antihero. It's weird because this is undeniably a much darker comic, and Jason certainly feels darker, but in terms of what he actually does, and what the other characters do, his violence is honestly very tame.

So, cards on the table, here is the core of who Jason is to me:

He's got clear moral motives and a drive to help as well as harm, though violence and harm are the main ways in which he tries to improve the world.

When confronted he does not back down; he does not let himself be overshadowed or silenced. He is confident in his decisions and every bit of push back is already accounted for in his head.

Everything he does is premeditated. He is not impulsive. His plans may sometimes be unhinged but they are methodically planned.

He is painfully sincere, the way fire is painfully hot.

He desperately desires love and connection, but it will take many years of constant rejection and fighting before he is willing to accept any kind of compromise to his ethics for the sake of civility.

Under all the hurt and combativeness, he's a pretty goofy guy! He's got a sense of fun and likes to be flamboyant and silly when he can!

He's a villain, a hero, a protagonist, an antagonist, and everything between the extremes. He exists as a powerful counter-thesis to Batman, and as such DC can't ever fully answer the question of what to do with him. He exists in this waffling limbo state as his morals are debated, stretched, refuted, turned on their head. I think that makes him a wonderfully fascinating character to love.

I hope you enjoyed this and, like, go have fun reading comics!

[snowjanuscentral]

Do you have any Snowjanus fic recs?

YES I DO:

So I'm pretty into things that are somewhat angsty and/or explore the grey areas of Coriolanus' morality and such, so that's sort of the tone of most of these fics!!

(I'm also really boring and like my fics to be pretty grounded in the reality of the universe they're set in, so no abo unfortunately)

everything ends - weezly14

Absolutely brilliant! From Sejanus' perspective and captures the concept of Sejanus and Coriolanus being teenagers and growing up in a way that's pretty unique to the Snowjanus tag! Coriolanus' characterisation is also really good haha

Hand in hand (me on my knees) -DevHasIssues

Super engaging, the concept of 'human pets' is a bit out there but written in a way that makes perfect sense for the Capitol. The premise is that Coriolanus is legally dead, and has been bought by Strabo Plinth as a gift to Sejanus, with this being an established piece of high Capitol cultural practice. Very interesting, and has given me lots of squishy feelings. Tigris is also here and is such an amazing girlboss

Thoughts of You Consume - egg_thief

Probably The Snowjanus Fic atm (at least in my eyes) - classic secret relationship stuff with a very clear power imbalance. Entirely from Coriolanus' perspective and he is characterised in the most authentic amazing way. They make sure to show the distinction between Coriolanus' perception of events and the true reality of what is happening. Also generally I love the writing style, all around an amazing fic. Do yourself a favour and check out all their fics if you haven't already!

All of the Messes I Made - egg_thief

Another egg_thief classic, this time set in District Twelve. Short and sweet and amazing :)

Silver Platters - Mintoki

Wonderful amazing, a fresh take on the 'Sejanus lives' trope with so much amazing set-up. Can't wait to see this updated. Again everything makes logical sense with the existing world building and Sejanus' characterisation is spot on.

here i clip the anvil of my sword - kaphkas

Amazing, wonderful, brilliant - possessive Coriolanus in District Twelve. honestly so perfect pls just read it

Closure - foxpause

Another Sejanus lives fic that is sooooo good: I really like it when people give Sejanus a bit of fire, he is most definitely not passive, and this fic allows Sejanus to get angry. Just wonderful