#gives up being apart of the darkness; but it scars him- literally

[totallyradicalmucky]

Thinking about a superchargers AU

Click for better quality pls 😭

[stnexus]

a slip of the tongue…!

jason todd x fem!black!reader

MINORS DNI, NSFW, 18+

summary: stressful days and sleepless nights, jason has a remedy for that one. just don’t give him any attitude, that’s all he asks.

cw: minor little heated argument (reader literally just has a lil freak out moment), a few mentions of jason’s scars, reader is stressed, insomnia (?), reader thinks jason’s mad for a second but that gets cleared up quick, nsfw, squeaky bed frame(?), praise kink, overstimulation, dumbification, dacryphillia, oral (f!receiving), squirting, creampie, mating press, missionary, cowgirl, this one kinda sensual you guys (i need this man so bad. tonight…we FEAST.)

names used (?): baby, pretty, pretty girl, beautiful, beautiful girl, good girl, daddy (used in moderation you guys)

word count: 3.5k+ (yet i was struggling to write my 1.2k final essay. THIS IS 12 FUCKING PAGES.)

A slam of the front door was all that rang throughout the house, the pitch black darkness was like a cold greeting. One that you had gotten used to when you would come home from work late in the evening. With Jason on his patrol and the house void of  anyone else, you were left to your own devices. Something that you sometimes wish was not the case. 

Dropping your keys on to the side table of your Gotham apartment, you pushed your heels off and kicked them out of the way of the front door. Flipping the light switch up and to the on position soon after. As your bare feet connected with  the cold wood flooring of the apartment, it seemed to ground you just a bit. 

This week at work had been hell, your boss had been working you so much you felt like if you blinked within his line of sight he would scold you for goofing off. So here you were. Sore feet, skirt and blouse cladded body tired as ever. Stripping yourself of your clothes one by one you held the pile of clothing in your arms until you reached your room, gliding through it to the connected bathroom.

Dropping the clothing in the hamper in the bathroom, you glanced at yourself in the mirror above the sink. Your eyes were glazed over from your tiredness, your pretty brown skin was beginning to lack its glow, and the bags under your eyes were getting heavier by the minute. Stressed wasn’t even the word needed to explain your state of being. 

Another sigh fell from your lips, and a yawn followed soon after as you made your way to the shower. grabbing your pink bonnet off the sink where you had left it, you gathered your braids and tucked them into the bonnet, the band laying snug on your forehead. you hoped that the water that would soon come beating down against your skin could help you become less stressed. 

your shower was therapeutic, but not enough to fully ease your mind. no, what you needed and wanted was jason. you had missed him all day — knowing your home would be empty when you arrived home due to him needing to tend to important matters. as you climbed into bed, dressed in pajamas that consisted of an old shirt and shorts, the squeak of the old bed frame that needed to be replaced welcomed you. 

i need to remind jason to help me pick out another bed frame next weekend. your thoughts rang.

grabbing at his pillow on his side of the bed, you pulled it towards you. his scent seemingly pulls you out of the brain fog you were currently in, just slightly. but it is still not enough. soon you would realize even attempting to fall asleep was futile. even though your eyelids were heavy and begged for rest.

you tossed and turned for hours, huffing out a frustrated sigh many times into the dark bedroom. peeling your eyes open you peered at the alarm clock that read ten minutes to five in the morning. it dawned on you that it had been  almost six hours that you had been fighting to fall asleep.

shaking your head as you grumbled, you stretched your limbs as you pulled yourself from the bed. your bonnet slipped off in the process, but you paid it no attention. trudging out of the room to make way to the kitchen. grabbing a cup from the cupboard, you pulled the fridge open as you grabbed the bottle of juice and opened it. beginning to pour it, that's when you heard it—

it was the sound of familiar heavy boots hitting the wooden floors of your apartment. even though happiness played at the edge of your mind, your face barely portrayed it. you slightly jumped as your eyes met his own as he stood in the entrance of the kitchen. jason’s arrival was quiet, surely because he was confused about who was in your kitchen this time of morning. seeing as you were usually asleep.

“what’re you doing up, baby?” 

his question flowed through the air as he began to close the gap between you two. his helmet was nowhere to be seen, most likely tucked away somewhere in your apartment.

“couldn’t sleep,” your words came out rougher than you had intended. there was a beat of silence but it washed away as jason spoke again. his brows furrowed for a minute then relaxed as he rubbed a hand over his face, fingers running over his scars for a mere second. 

“so, before i forget, bruce wants the whole family to come over for dinner saturday,” he informed as he backed away slowly, sitting at your dinner table as he pulled off his boots. “said he’s not taking no for an answer.”

“jason, i don’t know—” you tried to inject, though he had not seemed to notice.

“i’m sure alfred will probably be cooking almost all day tomorrow, in preparation. everyone eats like they’ve never seen food before—”

“jason, fuck, i already have enough on my plate right now. my boss is up my ass every time i walk into the office. i’m up to my neck in paperwork, all because he decided to spontaneously lay off two of my coworkers. i haven’t been able to sleep one bit, even though i’m tired. on top of that, i have to work on saturday. i don’t have the time to worry about a fucking dinner at bruce’s house.”

the kitchen filled with silence as you stood in front of the fridge. jason’s eyes taking in your current state as he sat still after your outburst. your braids cascaded down your back, but the few that slipped over your shoulder to frame your face made him aware of the bags that began to form. you looked overwhelmed, stressed even. he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize at first — which usually doesn’t happen.

“…you do seem tired, baby. i’m sorry i didn’t notice,” jason broke the silence. “how about we go to the room, i know exactly what you need to get to sleep.” 

“no, jay i’m sorry– ”

“it’s nothing to be sorry for, baby. i’m not angry,” jason ensured as he stood and walked over to you. grabbing at your free hand and pulling you towards him, taking the cup of juice from your hand. your head laid on his chest momentarily. “how about you go to the room? clothes off for me by the time i get in there, pretty girl.”

the weakening bed frame squeaks once again as you drop onto the mattress, jason grabs onto your ankle and dragged you closer to him as he got on the bed soon after. grabbing softly at your face, he slightly squished your cheeks together as he leaned down towards you to plant a peck on your lips that drifted into a heated kiss. without words, he pulled away, placing slow, open-mouth kisses down your neck — one of his hands grabbing at one of your breasts as he tweaked and played at your nipple. 

you felt completely vulnerable with how he was completely dressed; having quickly showered in the guest bathroom to give you some space. jason had dressed in a simple black shirt and gray sweatpants. his scent flooding your senses

“ you feel so soft, baby,” jason complimented,  “ ‘could play with this pretty body all day, every day.”

his words pulled a moan from your lips. reaching out to brush your hand over his hair you let out a small gasp as his lips wrapped around the nipple he had just toyed with. your hand tightened just a little around his hair, a flurry of black and whitened strands peaking through your finger as your acrylics ran over his scalp. his tongue dragging soft circles around the hardened bud at that moment. pulling away after almost two minutes, jason placed a kiss right above your nipple — then repeated his earlier actions with your neglected nipple. 

“pretty fucking tits,” jason grunts, eyes darkening as he looks up at you with your nipple between his lip, “such a beautiful girl.” 

“shit— thank you, daddy,” you let out as his hand snaked between you two. pushing your thighs that parted to accommodate him apart even more. feeling his rough fingertips part your slick folds in a teasing manner, you whined for some sort of friction and lifted your hips at his actions. to which jason listened as he sat his palm right above your cunt, thumb dipping downward to rub tight and heavy-handed little circles over your clit. 

“ ‘s that feel good, pretty girl?” 

“y—yeah,” you stutter out. 

“you know all i wanna do is make you feel good, right?”

“yeah, you make me feel so good, jay”

“so the next time you feel overwhelmed,” jason began as he began to lay kisses down your torso, stopping just below your navel, “don’t bring that attitude to me. just talk to me, ‘ya understand?”

“yes, f—fuck, i’m sorry daddy,”

locking eyes with you, jason licked a long stripe over your cunt. his tongue caressing your attentive clit. he did it a few more times before wrapping his lips around your hardened bud, taking harsh sucks at it as if he were trying to pull an orgasm from you. 

“ ‘taste so fuckin’ good,” jason spoke as his eyelids became heavy with lust, “nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout baby.”

feeling his hands drag over your inner thighs your hips seemed to move on their own as you attempted to grind against him. only for jason to let out a moan around your clit, hands now close enough to feel a thick finger prodding at your slit. sliding in slowly as his eyes trained on your face. the drag of his finger in and out of you was mind numbing as he found your most vulnerable spot within mere seconds — feeling you clench around him in approval of his actions.

“ ‘you gonna cum all over daddy’s face?”

“yes…!”

your dragged-out and whined confession was followed by almost immediate proof. the walls of your cunt clench around jason as he adds a second finger, tongue still dragging over your clit. a sheen of your cream decorating his fingers as you came crashing down.

“that’s it, baby, let it out,” jason spoke as softly as he could. lapping at every bit of your essence he could take in as if he would be ripped away at any second. though, your release did not stop him. his fingers continued to work you open as he pulled his mouth away from your cunt. watching as you clenched around his fingers repeatedly from the lack of a break. adding a third finger, jason listened to the moan you squeaked out in response. 

he was so attentive towards you, so it had not  shocked him when you declared that you were on the verge of cumming yet again. instead, he buried his tongue between your folds once again. his tongue heavy and wide as he parted your cunt. licking and kissing at your clit as if he were making out without it. 

“j—jay don’t stop,” you begged as your hips chased after his tongue. 

“mhm,” he hummed in agreeance, the vibrations from his response knocking you over the edge. the last moan you drew out hitched in your throat and slowly progressed into a slight whine. your thighs closing around his head, to which jason used his free hand to open them once more.

“there you fucking go, good girl,” jason groaned out a praise, laying a single kiss on your clit before he sat up from his position on the bed. bending down towards you to plant a messy kiss on your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. as he pulled back you took in his disheveled look as he took in your somewhat dazed look from reaching your high twice. watching as he pulled his shirt off, you were greeted by the scar that spanned across his chest and abdomen.

“that was just two,” jason spoke, “i want to see you cum until you can’t think.” 

it was something you knew he would follow through with. especially when he laid you back down, spreading your legs once more as he tugged his sweats and boxers off in one go, getting you to wrap around his waist. with his knees digging into the mattress he slid his cock back and forth between your sticky folds, groaning as his tip met your clit and caused you to twitch due to sensitivity. wasting no time, he lined up his tip with your entrance. sliding in gently, he placed a hand between your breast, slightly pushing you into the mattress, while his other hand gripped your hip.

you could feel him filling you inch by inch, stretching you out as he pushed himself into you. your mouth slightly agape as he reached the hilt and left you with a moment to adjust.

“you’re so tight,” he slurred out, “ ‘thought i opened you up enough with my fingers, baby. loosen up for me.”

“i’m trying, jay— fuck, ‘feels like you’re in my stomach,” you replied in shaky voice. which only caused jason to grin in response. 

“you poor thing, you can take it. i know you can.” 

pulling his hips away from your own he swings them downward onto you, repeatedly. drawing — in his own words — the prettiest sound from your lips. his own moans and grunts slipped through at times, his sounds making you feel just as good as his actions. 

“oh shit, you feel so good daddy,” you swore as your fingers found a purchase wrapped around the hand pushing you into the mattress, the scars decorating them lying just beneath your fingertips. his strokes were sensual and deep — like he planned on driving you crazy. if he wanted you to think of nothing else but him he was definitely on the right track.

“yeah…? i want you to show me how good it feels. cum for me,” jason stated as his hand reach up at your cheeks, “you know what i want. let me see you cream all over me again.” 

“jason you’re so nasty,” you forced out as his hip persisted. you were growing a bit embarrassed at how you were squeezing at jason’s cock, his stamina surely helped him wade off his release. 

“i know you ain’t complaining,” he said with a huffed out laugh. a few swears falling from his lips as he pushed the feeling of wanting to cum far down his list of priorities.

“i—i’m not, shit, i’m cumming…!”

“cumming so good you’re trying to milk me i swear,” jason groaned out as he watched the layer of your sticky orgasm cover his cock, “fuck— not yet though, ‘gotta make sure i take all that stress away.”

it felt like he had already done so, with the way your mind became fuzzy as you surged through your third release. jason’s hips barely skipping a beat as he fucked you through it, prolonging the feeling of ecstasy. your words were starting to fail you as he pulled you down the mattress and stood to his full height at the foot of the bed. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder, the other following soon after as he pulled you into a mating press. 

grabbing at his forearms that he planted firmly on each side of you, you swore you could feel him everywhere as he pushed himself into you again. the feeling starting to become overwhelming as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. kissing at your brown cheeks he stilled for a moment as his eyes softened. 

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” jason spoke as his lips met yours again, “i’m so lucky to have such a hardworking, intelligent girl.”

amidst him praising you, he began to move. feeling as though he was trying to dig you out in the current position. 

“ ‘l—love you,” was all you seemed to let out as your words drifted off into useless babbling. his hips hitting the back of your thighs with each thrust as he planted a kiss on one of your legs.

“you know i love you too, baby.”

the room seemed to grow hotter as the bed frame below you squeaked at jason’s well paced thrusts. the little hair that began to grow in on his happy trail becoming covered in your slick as he rubbed against your clit with each thrust.

this time you were unable to even form the words to warn him of what was to come. you felt a tightness in your lower stomach that seemed to get worse with each movement from him. but this one felt different. the constant rubbing against your sensitive cunt in combination to him stretching you out was like he was trying to break you.

“that’s it, i know. i know, baby,” jason cooes as he reads your face, “all you need is to be fucked out. make a mess for me.”

you swore you saw stars as you gripped at jason’s arms. surely leaving impressions of your acrylics on his skin as you came. spurts of clear fluid bouncing off his abdomen as he continued to push himself in and out. 

“f—fuck, i need you to do that one more time.”

it was not long before you found yourself on top of him, bouncing as good as you could with how tired you were becoming. pushing his cock into your overly spent cunt, he had let you sink down at your own pace. it took everything in him to hold himself back but tonight was not about him. jason wanted to live up to his earlier statements: all he wants to do is make you feel good.

he watched as your bouncing started to become sloppy, your legs weak from the many times you had cum before. reaching his hands out, he intertwined his fingers with your own as he took in your fucked out state. 

“need me to help you, pretty girl?” 

“y—yes please,” 

that was all it took for him to pull you towards him. your head falling onto the white pillows beside his head, your face right next to his. taking a second to place your hands behind your back, he held your wrist together with one hand as he grabbed at your waist with the other. your knees stayed planted onto the mattress as he positioned himself. fucking up into you, his own hips pushing you up and down. the bedframe squealing under his continuous movements seemed to encourage him even more.

“ ‘treat me so good, daddy,” your whines were broken and tired. he was sure you would sleep nice and good when you two were done. but for now a chuckle left his mouth.

“you deserve it,” jason spoke in between his own breathy moans, “you work so hard, fuck—  yeaaa… squeeze me just like that. you are worth everything, baby.” 

the tears that had been playing at your eyes since he had you at the edge of the bed seemed to fall at the ringing of his words in your ears. feeling your heartbeat quicken and your stomach tighten you forced yourself to make sense through your nonsense rambling.

“ ‘wanna kiss, jay.” 

to which he didn’t complain. his hips never faltered as he turned his head towards you, connecting your lips once again. groaning as he felt you gripping around his cock as if he were attempting to leave your soaked cunt.

“want me to fill you up?” he questioned in between the kiss. a question you tried your best to answer but only forced out a mumble of mhm, yea. 

it didn’t take long, as you reached your peak, squirting once more as it dripped down jason’s balls. his lips were still on yours as his hips stuttered, moments later flooding your cunt with ropes of white cum. despite not looking down, you could feel his cum leaking from between your legs as you gushed around him. only for him to fuck back up into you a few more times before slowly pulled himself from your pussy.

“how do you feel, baby?” he questioned as he let your hands go. the hand that was on your waist moving to remove a braid from your vision as it had begun to slip as he adjusted himself under you. he had put his body flat against the mattress and allowed you too just lay on him in your fucked out state. 

“tired,” you replied as much as your worn out body would allow you. 

“how about we go pee, then when we get back we can both sleep all you want? i don’t have to handle patrol tomorrow, Dick’s got it covered.”

“mhm…i’d like that.”

“thought so. and don’t worry, i’ll handle that boss of yours, go ahead and call off for Saturday,” jason smiled fondly as he grabbed at your body. gearing up to pick you up and help you to the bathroom.

[444st4rg1rl]

Roomies

18+ , 5.5k words

tags : roommate!reader, female!reader, sorta sidekick!reader, roommate!Logan, roommate!Wade, Best Friend!Wade, enemies to lovers, harsh words, very tiny angst, smut, oral sex (f) , unprotected p in v, fingering (f), cursing. 

a/n: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, also small spoilers to Deadpool & Wolverine. 

The one where you fucking hate your new roommate, but shit he’s also kinda hot. 

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“You think Murdock is willing to take a roommate?

Wade has made himself comfortable in his bed in his room, the one out of two rooms in his apartment that is housing three people. It was nice when it was just you and Wade, best buds, partners in crime, pookie and shookie.  Whatever the fuck, it had always been you and Wade. Now it’s you, Wade and Logan. Possibly the worst fucking addition to the duo. Doesn’t he know there is always a duo in a trio?

“Gasp! Is it because of the smell? Because pookie no where deep in reddit told me how to clean up-”

You put your hand up to stop him, face full of confusion yet the sheer idea of whatever Wade has to say next kills the curious cat roaming in your thoughts. You lean on his door frame - the doors not fully open out of fear but it’s enough to not want to step foot deep in the room - and closed enough for your eyes to be saved from the atrocity he was talking about. 

“Wade, please, I can’t fucking take it anymore I am fucking loosing it. I can’t even get water without seeing that sad sack of shit mopping on our fucking couch! It’s sad, Wade, if you loved me you'd kick him out.”

The childish ultimatum is dumb but maybe the puppy dog eyes you have going on as you stare at Wade big eyed and faux sadness. Overall this is childish of you, to beg your best friend to kick out the guy who just had to fucking help you save the world seems pathetic and rude of you. But who gives a fuck? Logan is rude, an arrogant asshole, a prick, douche, down-under fucker. He is the worst hero? you have had the displeasure of meeting. But no, God strikes you down on your hatred of this old man once more; he makes him hot.

“How could you say that about a war veteran?” 

The sarcasm combined with Wade talking to Mary Puppins like a baby rather than looking at you, has you wishing Cassandra killed you herself back when she had the chance. It was interesting to say the least, getting thrown into a rag team with Wade and being told to save the multiverse was not your usual mission but hey, money is money. That wasn’t really your style, the whole big hero sham. Vigilante, mercenary, the people's people, too hot to handle, now that’s just one big umbrella term you’d throw yourself under. You met Wade when he wasn’t deadpool and you were some weird eighteen year old who was a little too good with knives and way too lucky to be alive. It felt natural then and there to just fall under his wing and have him throw you out there, figuratively and literally (there was the 32 floor incident and the scars to prove it). Your thankful for it even if it means some scars and permanent migraine because twenty-three year old you now has the confidence to throw a kitchen knife that was embedded in the wall next to you- right into Wades head and slam the door shut, something eighteen year old would have hesitated to do at first. 

“Nice clothes ya got there, Bub.”

Logan’s deep voice rattles through your system, spiking your nervous system higher than it normally is around him, (usually very high). You spin around from Wade’s door, the curse you had ready to drip off your tongue is gathered right back into your mouth after you get a look at him. Tall, dark, so big and strong; the words Karen Page had uttered to you the first time she saw Logan after you and Wade had brought him around the group you guys converse in. The words that had haunted you at night, the nights where you catch him and Wade fighting and his massive arms are on display for you to shamelessly stare at or the nights where you curse what God you might have pissed off in your past multiverses that put your very thin bedroom wall right next to the shower wall. Hearing The Wolverine, the one that you had read in comics growing up, untouchable and badass Wolverine, was the one you heard bite down on his knuckles to quiet down his deep groans as he got himself off in the shower. You close your eyes to regain what you were gonna say and look at Logan.

“Thanks, go fuck yourself.”

You turn to make the small trek to your room, looking down at clothes Logan had chosen to comment on. An oversized and stretched t-shirt that has Spider-man's logo on it, the shirt long enough to reach your thighs so like always you for-go the pants. You're not gonna change your comfiness for one person who decided to be a roach in your living room. 

Logan’s large hand on your wrist is what gets your anger sparking as he stops you from entering your room. 

“Can I fucking help you?”

Harsh words cut through your mouth as you remove your wrist from his hand, if you were to miss the warmth it provided, then well that’s later you in your bed problem. 

“Are you going with Wilson tomorrow?”

Tomorrow, a day job that you and Wade had picked up, some bullshit, go kill this person,yadda yadda, and here's the money. The main reason you're so excited? A day away from him. 

You don’t even bother to say yes, you nod your head at him, open your door, stare at him, ignore the smirk, and slam the door. Wait why the fuck did he make that face?

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Now, to be truthful you should have pushed back against Logan last night. Yelled and pushed for a fight on why did he care where you were going, why did he make that face at you. You really should have, instead you chose peace. Now you live with violence in the present. Your suit clings too tight to you right now and one of your knives is digging into your thigh and oh, fucking Logan is apparently is coming. There goes any excitement you had about the day trip away from the bastard. You give Wade the silent treatment in the apartment, on the way to the car, during his shameful ‘Careless Whisper’ performance in the car and halfway to the mission. Wade drives, it’s an amusing site to watch the rather large man sit in the driver seat of the 2008 Nissan Rogue (Hondas hold too much PTSD for the group). You make yourself comfortable in the passenger and try to tune out Logan seating himself in the back.

Wade leans over, not subtly, and puts a hand cupping around his masked mouth and whispers rather loudly-

“Is this because I washed your suit too tight? Or is it your allergy to cheap soaps? I know your skin is bougie, bestie.”

You're going to kill him, you and Logan. You go to grab at the stickshift in the center console to fuck up the car but Wade knows you to well and already has a hand on the stick shift. Hearing Logan chuckle has you moving quickly. A gun is pressed right to the center of his unfortunately gorgeous forehead and takes off safely as you make direct eye contact with him.

“I will fucking pull the trigger right now.”

“Ya know you won’t Bubs, you're too much of a pussy for that.”  

The familiar nickname sends a shiver down your spine, and a heat you're too known with through the lower parts of you but the anger from his doubting overshines like usual, intrusively you unbuckle your seat belt and jump in the back seat and pistol whip Logan across the face. 

Bad choice

Logan stares at you as the gash from the pistol is rapidly repairing itself but the bloody evidence makes itself permanent on his face. He’s quick to act, unbuckling his seatbelt and going to launch himself at you.

You don’t have any fancyshamchy powers of that sort, you heal fast, just like the other two in the car but not that fast, maybe a day or two. And you're lucky, one would call it a power and someone wouldn’t. But fuck your lucky you avoid Logans fast coming fist towards your head. You duck and lean back on the seat kicking your feet out to hit him in the stomach. He gets pushed back and his head hits the widow opposite of you hard and loud. The site has you cackling, from your view as your half laid down on the seat and one leg half up and the other hanging off the seat. Logan’s broad body is pushed up against the window. Your cackling comes to a yelp as Logan is quick to pounce on you. His large body pins yours down to the seat. One arm is quick to grab your hands, capturing them in one hand that he brings above your head. His other arm across your throat pressing down hard enough to cut off your air supply.

You blame the lack of air for the thought that pushes through your mind, the sight of him above you right now all furious and heated. His thick forearm heavy on your throat should have you kicking him immediately off you but you falter. The worst part? Logan notices. You're a second to late for your normal reaction time. You watch in slight horror as Logan realizes this above you. 

“Hey! Are you guys fucking back there? Listen I know where in the middle of enemies to lovers fanfic but C’MON!”

For fucking once Wade decided to be useful these past two days, you ignore his spewing but Logan seems distracted. You get the high ground and kick him off, shoving a baby knife into his neck and scrambling your ass back into the front seat by Wade. As you adjust yourself back into your seat, the feeling of hot slick between your thighs has become a rather uncomfortable problem that has aroused. You shift uncomfortably in your seat and make the mistake of catching Logan’s eyes in the rearview mirror and he gives you a sideways glance. Fuck, fucking mutants, fucking weird senses, fucking dog boy.

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If Logans being truthful, he never hated you. Hate’s too strong of a word, he does although despise you. Loathe, detest, revulse, abhorrence, those are the words Logan would use if someone asked him to describe his feelings towards you. The annoying girl who had saved the world with him and who he shares an apartment with. The very annoying girl who he wants to pummel into the ground, and then into a bed. 

Since the whole ‘we saved the universe now we gotta go back to New York and hey I guess you can come with us’ has happened to him has tested his patience. 

It’s rough adjusting to a new life let alone a new fucking universe and she makes it no better. Logan truly wants to hate her the way he portrays, he wonders if she gets tired of arguing all the time. Being so uptight and rude twenty-four seven, to have anger vibrate through her bones. Every conversation they had is laced with malice. 

“Why the fuck are you in my fridge.” - “I didn’t realize you owned the whole fridge, girl.’

“You're a reckless waste of space, I'm surprised Cassandra failed to kill you.” - “Ain’t yo whole team dead cause of you?”

“You sure Wilson’s just not pitying you, Bubs?” - “How are you over two hundred years old and you still can’t pull bitches?” 

She’s quick-witted, sharp tongued and annoyingly gorgeous. The moment Logan laid his eyes on you, he felt his blood spike faster to his heart and his dick. Pretty young girl covered in blood holding a 9 mm, he was enamored, then you opened your mouth and it was a wrap (discreet wrap). Hating you publicly and his shower thoughts is what he had lived by for the past two months yet here he sits now in the back of the car, Wades shitty pop playlist blasting, and the image of you pinned underneath of him with your big wide eyes staring up at him is burned into his head. You faltered, he saw it himself the way you went lax and the way you liked it. He’s not stupid, he bluntly watches as you push your way out from under and throw yourself back into the passenger seat. He can’t control it but he smells you, the way you have to squeeze your thigh together to get some relief. 

It sends him into a frenzy as he catches your glazed eyes in the rearview mirror, he curses himself as he feels his blood rush and his cock hardens in his suit. Fuck

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You're sure Wade is the only person who enjoyed the mission, the only part you enjoyed is the fat wad of cash that was pushed into your hand. The three of you shuffle into the car that is somehow still standing. The three of you all covered in various contrivances along with Wade's now missing left arm. The car getting stained with every movement mixed with the hot interior is worse than a crowded hallway in highschool. You roll your window down and let the cool air soothe over your skin like a new layer of skin.

“I can’t believe those perverted bastards took my arm! Hope they like jerking their dicks off with sandpaper because…’’  Wade’s nonsense lulls you to a slumber that makes you ache less. 

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You're a loudmouth, not as bad as Wade but you need your fix of arguing and winning. Which is what has you standing at your door thinking hard before you open it. 

Logan’s ignoring you, well, you're also ignoring him. You’ve both been trying to pretend the other doesn’t exist as one can in a 15x10 apartment layout. Just start some shit, call him fucking lazy or ugly. You psych yourself up ready to start the argument and win. The door opens and there you go sauntering out of it in your big t-shirt and no pants. Logan makes a quick glance towards your direction but otherwise seems preoccupied on the television in front of him . You stand in the kitchen behind him mouth agape as you struggle to think of the words, angrily you grab water and return back to your room.

This keeps happening, you and Logan keep avoiding each other, not more than sparing a glance. Of course, it’s Wade who says something. He catches you as you're in your room and Logans of and about in New York. 

“So did the Big Bad Wolf really eat your grandma, huh?”

“I'm gonna make you eat your grandma.”

“Kinky, but my grandma was a fierce woman.” He launches himself onto your bed and grabs your fluffy throw pillow to hold, Mary Puppins trailing in after Wade. “But seriously pookie, this is odd behavior for you two. Y’know you guys are usually like cats and dogs after each other. Oh! You think the song ‘It’s Raining Men’ took into consideration ‘it's raining cats and dogs out”…....

“I hear Logan jerk off in the shower”

You're not completely sure why that's the first thing you say to Wade, but it shuts him up. He stares at you comically before he loudly gasps and goes to cover Mary Puppins ears before excitedly staring at you. If he wasn’t horrifically scarred you could almost compare him to a teen girl right now. 

“Sexual Tension! You have to fuck The Wolverine!”

You stare at Wade like he just said he was never going to shoot again.

“The fuck are you spewing about?”

You have no other choice but to listen to Wade spew about how to fix all your problems you have to fuck Logan. You get up as Wade is on his second speech on how to suck dick 101, you push him out of your room and depressingly stare at your wall before you realize. 

“Fuck!”

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After your conversation with Wade it's all that plagues your mind. The way the veins pop in his arms, how his chest looks in his wife beater. The dog tags that hand around his neck, you want to fall in front of your face and then choke him out. It catches up to you finally, after all you still share a kitchen with him. It's awkward, more awkward then a teen boy confessing his crush, it's kinda awkward where a two hundred year old mutant and a twenty three year old something of the sorts have a mutual hatred but sexual deviance of the other. 

It’s one-thirty four at night when you and Logan run into each other. You're grabbing a glass of water and he's sitting at the small Island nursing a beer. 

“Ya hate me so much Bubs you had to lock yourself away?”

You glare at him, eyes following the way he laughs at his own sentence and how his lips close around the top of his beer. You move your eyes up to catch his already glaring at you. You rack your mind to what to say, to embarrass him. 

“Bathroom walls are thin ya know, Old man.”

Got him. He freezes as he sets down his beer on the counter before continuing to stare at you, you smile at your upperhand in this. 

“Don’t know why you wanna piss me off so bad Old man, that's the only way you get it up?”

Low blow, but who cares. You certainly don’t as you watch as he racks his brain to say something. You beat him to it again.

“Why don’t you get yourself something nice, a bar, club, something. Or has it been too long for you to try anything with civilization?”

He stands up and fuck if he ain’t tall. You watch as he makes the small space in between you, he stands at his full. You reach about his shoulder so you have to lift your head to stare at him, he’s already staring down at you with a gleam in his eye. One of his hefty arms comes down on the counter behind you, caging you. His other arm rests by his side, an escape route if you still have the shreds of your dignity that tells you to leave, go back to your room and go to sleep. Yet Logan tilts his head at you and watches as his lips curl into a smirk. 

“Harsh accusations from someone-”

His words are cut off as you put a hand to cover his mouth, you just know he’s going to mention the moment in the car. Your chest are pressed together as you keep your hand tight around his mouth. Your eyes are filled with something akin to embarrassment but something else. 

“Shut it. That was a moment of weakness.”

Logan grabs your hand that's covering his mouth and holds it tightly in his hand, it’s when you don’t jerk your hand back that Logan cages you in with both arms. There goes my dignity. 

“Yeah Bubs, moment of weakness. That's why you've been avoiding me like the plague huh?” He comes closer to your face, one large hand sneaking up to grip at your chin. “Scared you might like it?”

No fucking way. You feel how your heart stops in your chest, how all you can do is have your eyes scan over his face. You push your thighs together in some relief from the feeling of molten lava being run through your system down to your panties. You lean your face closer to him. You grip your fingers hard in the marble counter behind you. Trying to hold on to whatever last bit of anger that is spurring through your body. 

“Didn’t you avoid me too huh? Don’t point fingers.”

It’s like it was a trigger that switched something inside of him. The hand that had been caging you in is holding your waist in a grip so taut you could feel the fingertip indents forming. Logan seizes your chin again, a quicker way to shut you up. 

“Fuck ya want me to, huh?” He leans his large figure down to be only inches away from each other's faces. The scowl on his face shouldn’t send a thrill down your body but any shreds of sensible thoughts have been thrown out the window moments before. Logan watches you intently, he sees how you have a remark ready to spit at him like poison. 

“I’ve watched you parade yourself around this fucking apartment like this-” he grips the edge of the long t-shirt your wearing “-and I had to do nothing about it.”

You should bunch up your shoulder, fight back, but it seems any of your usual inhibitions are clawed away when it comes to Logan. You're a simple girl at heart, your eyes catch how thick the arms that are encasing you and the moment the idea you want them to hold you while he rams from the back is when you give up any thoughts that are holding you back. 

“Why don’t you do something now?”

It’s ballsy but it’s worth it for the way you can see Logan squint his eyes and push himself harder against you, the cold counter pushed into your back a small relief to your hot skin. His hand gripping your chin goes down to match the equally harsh grip on your waist. The shitty dim light from the kitchen overhead shadows over Logan perfectly, light defining the muscles that are being pulled taunt in his neck and shoulders. He drops his head to have lips brush over your ear. 

“I hear ya too, in your room. How those fucking fingers of yours aren’t enough, you wish that was me instead huh, Bubs?” His last words come out breathy with a hint of a chuckle falling off his lips. He drops his head on your shoulder and you feel your body run hot at the amount of contact. “Fuck, I could smell ya in there all the fucking time. Knew you hear me through the walls, girl.”

You tilt your head slightly letting your plush lips ghost over his ear like he did moments ago. 

“This doesn’t change anything, you're arrogant, egotistical and an asshole.”

Logan lifts his head confused at your words before you grab his face into your hands, a laughable size difference, and push his lips onto yours. He catches on quickly moving his lips against yours rather harshly, having a hand slide to your neck to keep you in place, the other hand pushing you against him. You groan at the feeling of his hardened cock pressed up by your upper thigh. It’s quick and rough with him, the way he grabs at your skin and handles you. 

His calloused hands reach under your thighs and grunts out a ‘jump’ and that's exactly what you do. Letting your thighs hit the cold counter is a burn relief on your burning thighs. His lips run down from your lips to your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin has you throwing your head back into the cabinets that rest behind you. His hands knead your plush thighs and you pull at his hair tufts and he groans into your neck. 

He pulls away completely leaving you a confused mess. You must look like a sight, shirt falling off one shoulder and bunching at your waist. Hair a wreck framing your face and your kiss swollen lips. You go to mumble out a disoriented ‘what’ but Logans already grabbing at the undersides of your thighs and you're pulled into his arms. His fingertips grip into the backs of your thighs leaving bruises in their wake, you take the advantage to run your hands down his tank top clad shoulders and chest feeling the hard muscle ripple under your touch. 

“Say it.”

You stare at him slightly confused as he sets you down on your bed, his hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He’s looking at you so earnestly it almost hurts. 

“Say what, Logan?” You lean back on your arms before deciding on gaining a surge of confidence. You grab at the edge of your shirt and rip it over your head. Free the nipple and all that but thank fuck is all you think. It’s like a reward watching his eyes land on your bare chest and the way his breath hitches. You pull him down by his tank top. “I want you Logan.” 

The reaction is spontaneous, he’s leaning back and taking his tank top off from the hem behind his neck. You crawl back onto your bed and he follows you, in this state you could ask him to follow you to any universe and he would. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down back to your lips, his hands gliding smoothly over your torso before he grabs one of your tits in hand and pulls harshly at your nipple. He does it again on the other nipple after he hears the gasp that comes out your mouth. He moves his kissed lips down from your lips to your neck. You catch the image, his massive body crowding yours, a shield from the outside world. His lips detach from the purple hazing mark starting to form on your neck and attach his lips to one of your taut nipples while kneading the other one. You snake your hands into his hair and pull. Into the spank bank box.

It’s when his lips start trailing down your tits to your stomach, kissing and playing with the plush skin before he kisses around your thigh. Teasing on purpose, avoiding where you need him the most. He lets his thumbs enter the hem of your painties before he looks back at you. 

“You know how long I’ve waited to be here, baby?”

“Then show me, c’mon”

Logan pulls your painties off so slowly it should be a crime but with how he kisses your pussy like it’s a prize bails him out. His arms wrap around your thighs to give him better access, a forearm going across your stomach to hold you down like you're in the wrong for squirming. He licks up and down your pussy and fuck it makes you angry how good he is at it. His tongue teasing your hole and you whimper, you pull at his hair tufts and he looks at you, his eyes are teasing and his mouth and chin are covered in your juices. He maintains eye contact as he moves his lips over to your clit and sucks, he keeps his mouth closed around the bundle and watches how you moan and squirm under him. He removes one arm from around your waist to thrust a single finger into your tight hole. He doesn’t make a remark on the gasp but pulls up for where he was and stops his movement.

“Stop fucking moving, c’mob be good for me, Bubs.”

The words have you melting into your sheets as you try to stop your brash movements. The combination of the second finger he added and his tongue working wonders on your sensitive clit has your stomach forming that familiar knot. You grab at one of his arms to signal him but he doesn’t relent.

“Gonna cum ,gonna cum, Fuck!”

“I know Bubs let it out, yeah just like that baby.”

He sits up for where he was laying down, your body still spread out for him as you try to catch your breath from the orgasm. You trail your hand down his toned and muscular abs to his jean buttons, slowly undoing the button and the zipper. Logan looks down at you with a growing smirk on his face as he finishes the job of pulling his pants a little down his thighs. 

“Ya want something, girl? Ya gotta get it.”

You push yourself up onto your knees as he stands at the edge of your bed, shoving down his boxers, his cock bounces to his stomach, a flush coating the tip as pearly white precum beads out. You take his cock in hand, salivating over the happy trail in your view. You pump his cock a few times before you lean in and kiss the tip. You're a few kitten licks deep before he pulls your head back and shakes his head. 

“Another time, girl. I’ve been waiting too long to be inside of you.”

You groan and fall back, letting your legs spread for the man you hate so much. He adjusts himself in between your legs trying to make space for his large figure. He looks down at you, one hand on his cock and the other on your thigh, holding it up to his waist. He strokes at your calf in a fond way, maybe a ‘sorry i'm about to wreck your pussy.’

He lines himself up and swipes his cock head through your folds, letting his head hand forward from the feeling. You wrap both legs around his colossal waist in an attempt to have him sheath himself fully inside you. He laughs from above you and lines his fat tip against your hole. Sliding himself inch by inch, you look down and he’s only half way in and it’s too full. He tries to push in more and you whine, throwing your head back and putting your hands on his chest. He takes a hand and grabs one of your hands on his chest and sheaths himself fully inside of you.

“Yeah Bub? Too much?”

It’s cocky how he laughs above you, laughing at your whining. You shift your hips under him trying to get comfortable. His eyes watching your every move, you kick his thigh, for being cocky and a signal to move. He puts a forearm by your head and another on the thigh wrapped around the waist. He starts slowly moving his hips thrusting in and out. 

“Really Old man, c’mon let loose.”

“You don’t want me to do that, baby”

You roll your eyes from under him, you shove at his shoulders and have him fall on to his back. He stays snug inside you as you adjust yourself on top of him, watching as he gives you a one over, both his hands gripping the fat on your hips. You start lifting your thighs up and down, putting your hands on his chest making an excuse to feel on those godly abs. The grunts he gives from under you are spurring you on despite the burn in your thighs. 

Logan is a simple man, he watches the lewd faces you make as you lean forward, your tits caught between your arms as you bounce your thighs on him. He lets you do your own thing, admiring you. But the primal urge is stronger, he grabs at your hips and fucks up into you. His cock moving at rapid speed thrusting in and out of from under, you keep yourself up on this chest. Your cockdrunk on him. The feeling of him fucking into you is making you dumb, you let your tits press to his chess and attempt to kiss him. You're more so moaning into his mouth than kissing him. You let him switch places, manhandling you onto your knees. He practically mounts you like a dog in heat , his chest pressed against back. He’s got his forearm pressed to your collarbones, hand on your throat, his other hand reaches down to rub at your clit. Your a moaning mess, to fucked out to care about anything. Your whines of Logan's name has him thrusting harder into. He leans his head on your shoulder turning towards your ear.

“Yeah, you close baby, I can feel it. It’s okay Bubs, I'm here, let it out. Cum on this dick Bub.”

You let his words wash over you, coaxing you into your second orgasm. He fucks you through it, before he stills his thrust. You grab his arm- “Inside, cum inside”- he lets out a groan that rattles in your chest and shoots hot ropes of cum inside. Logan adjusts you both to lay down, your upper half on his chest, his half hard cock still cum deep in your pussy. You're tempted to fall asleep at this until Logan opens his mouth. 

“Still hate me, baby?”

You smack his chest not bothering to get up. You let yourself lay on his chest, grabbing your comforter and pulling it up to your chest, the blanket falling around his waist.

“You're still in jeans, on my bed.”

“I'll take em off for round two”

You don’t say anything just letting the both of you bask in the silence, Logan’s playing with your hair. It’s nice, up and until you hear the front door open. You brace yourself.

You forgot to lock the door, and in comes Wade.

“What the FUCK balls, without me, seriously?”

[lovemyromance]

Can people stop saying Elriels are changing Elain & Azriel's personalities to make their ship work?

First of all, SJM wrote a bonus chapter and 3 books of buildup in the background for Elriel already. We didn't just make up the fact that they're very into each other - SJM literally wrote that in the books.

We don't have to change anything about them. They are already attracted to each other and interested in each other in the text at this point.

Could we sit here and argue that Azriel sitting in the garden with Elain, Azriel sensing she's missing and in danger when the Cauldron kidnaps her, Elain looking to Azriel for comfort, Elain getting him solstice gifts, Azriel wanting to beg on his knees for a taste of her, Azriel giving her truth teller, Elain kicking the hounds off him, Azriel making everyone wait for her to eat dinner - We can sit here and argue and say those things are "strictly platonic" or "he's an incel who only lusts after her" (not sure how both can be true but okay). We can do that - but it won't change the fact that it is ON THE PAGE. THEIR MUTUAL ATTRACTION is IN THE TEXT.

Cool? Cool.

Next Point: Nobody is changing shit about Elain or Azriel.

It's like the antis saw one post about "oh Elain could be a cool warrior" all the way back in like 2015 and have held onto that like that one grainy af Elucien Facebook comment that one account keeps posting as responses to elriel posts (y'all know who im talking about right 😂).

Allow me to give you a refresher: It is currently 2024. Nobody is trying to make Elain be a warrior. I think most Elriels are of the opinion that we do NOT want ACOSF 2.0.

What we do want to see, is Elain potentially as a spy. AGAIN - not a warrior. This is not changing her personality. She is already a Seer - it is not a stretch to want to see her delve into her powers in the next book to use them to SEE and gather information. Elain is ready to help, she literally says "Find me when you wish to begin."

If people are complaining about fan arts where she's holding a dagger - I'm like 99% positive that dagger is truthteller and you cannot be complaining about an actual canon scene where she has been the only other person to touch that knife in 500 years, apart from Azriel. Not even Mor, his one time love, has touched that knife.

And Elain holding truthteller is in the official ACOTAR coloring book - BTW. So if you have an issue with Elain being depicted with a dagger - take it up with SJM's team.

Let's talk Azriel:

Genuinely not sure what people are saying we are changing about Azriel to better fit Elain?

People bring up the "oh he's too dark for Elain she will shy away from him" um. No. It's literally in the text how Elain calls his scars beautiful and does not balk from him.

Also .. what darkness? I did an entire post on what the hell is Azriel's darkness even and still, nobody had an answer for me because ??

We can't be reducing this man down to a job he took very very reluctantly and clearly hates. He doesn't like torturing people for answers, guys!! Y'all make it sound like his love interest can only work if she's his literal torture assistant or something 😭😭

"Hi azriel, you have a 11 o'clock coming in for the usual water boarding treatment." <tucks hair behind ear and nods earnestly> "and then afterwards, I will wash the blood off your knife and accept your darkness?"

Is that what y'all want 🤨🤨 don't be weird smh

Azriel says it feels wrong to touch Elain because HE FEELS UNDESERVING OF HER?? Have you never read a romance novel? The tortured hero being so reluctant to even touch his love because he's afraid his sins will taint her goodness??

Please people. Listen to like... a Hozier song before you try to understand this man because maybe then you might get a crash course on him. This man is so Hozier coded, it's insane to me that people think of him as some fuckboi incel.

Nobody is changing anything about Azriel and Elain. They are drawn to each other and understand each other without having to say a single word. Their love story is already starting out to be the healthiest: friends to lovers. They have been given a title: death & his lovely fawn.

Their very names mean Azriel "God is my help" or "Angel of Death" and Elain means "Light" or "Fawn" or "God has answered my prayers"

It's already on the pages and if you can't see the writing on the walls, perhaps it's time for a reread my friend.

[gerrystamour]

so touch me again (i feel my shadow dissolving)

Rated E | Steddie Week Day 2: Fluff | 1200 Words | Complete

[ READ ON AO3 ]

“What’s up, baby?” Steve asks, voice deep with the last dregs of sleep around the edges, and he shifts a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. “Missed you,” Eddie replies before he turns his face to press a kiss into the center of Steve’s palm. Even after years of soft, sweet moments like this with Eddie, Steve feels his heart melt under the warmth of his fondness for the older man. Stroking Eddie’s scarred cheek with his thumb, Steve says, “I’m right here, baby.” Eddie just nods, his mouth and nose still pressed into the center of Steve’s palm as he closes his eyes.  “Still missed you,” is all he says after a few moments, and Steve knows that to mean Eddie had a nightmare he doesn’t want to talk about. My entry for @steddie-week Day 2, for the prompt fluff!! I literally accidentally hit post instead of "save as draft" on AO3 so that's why this is ultimately being posted early. CW: This fic is rated Explicit for smut below the cut.

Steve wakes up to lazy kisses against his collarbone, curly hair tickling his cheek as the lips move closer to his throat. Sighing happily, Steve lifts his arms to wrap around Eddie sleepily as he dips his head for a proper kiss.

Eddie acquiesces immediately with a pleased hum into Steve’s mouth.

When they pull apart, Steve smiles at Eddie. There’s a streetlight outside their apartment that shines into their bedroom, casting a dim orange glow across Eddie’s profile that makes him look otherworldly. Ethereal.

“What’s up, baby?” Steve asks, voice deep with the last dregs of sleep around the edges, and he shifts a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek.

“Missed you,” Eddie replies before he turns his face to press a kiss into the center of Steve’s palm. Even after years of soft, sweet moments like this with Eddie, Steve feels his heart melt under the warmth of his fondness for the older man.

Stroking Eddie’s scarred cheek with his thumb, Steve says, “I’m right here, baby.”

Eddie just nods, his mouth and nose still pressed into the center of Steve’s palm as he closes his eyes.  “Still missed you,” is all he says after a few moments, and Steve knows that to mean Eddie had a nightmare he doesn’t want to talk about.

Spring of ‘86 was a distant memory for them, but sometimes it crept back up. Slowly, Steve registers the sound of rain hitting the bedroom window and pieces things together.

“Sometimes when it’s raining, it kinda sounds like the bats,” Steve remembers Eddie confessing back then after a panic attack. It makes complete sense to Steve, and a lot of his own triggers were just as innocuous and unavoidable. Steve knows what Eddie’s feeling well, that feeling after waking up from something dark and sad. How, even if the bed is warm and arms were around him, Steve would need to know for sure that he wasn’t imagining things.

Eddie takes a slow, calming breath in deeply through his nose before he shifts to press his lips to the inside of Steve’s wrist, snapping him out of his thoughts. With a contented hum, Steve directs Eddie into another kiss, this one deeper and more searching. Eddie needs to know Steve is there, that Steve is alive and with him, so Steve would give him just that.

As their breathing grows heavier, the movement of lips against each other growing sloppier and slicker with their spit, Steve pulls back to smile up at Eddie. “Missed you, too,” he says, and he buries a hand in Eddie’s hair to guide him back in for another kiss.

Eddie dives in with a hungry sound and Steve spreads his legs so his boyfriend could settle comfortably between them. They’re both still naked from earlier, and Steve knows he’s still loose and a bit slick. It wouldn’t take much preparation, if any at all, for Eddie to slide back inside him.

The same thought seems to occur to Eddie as he shifts so he can reach down between Steve’s legs and touch him there, testing the give of the tender ring of muscle. It hurts a bit, but with enough lube, the ache would be worth it.

“Eds, please,” Steve whines against Eddie’s lips as a finger presses inside, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab the bottle of lube. Eddie immediately withdraws his finger and takes the bottle, slicking his fingers properly and pressing two inside at once. Steve gasps, his eyes rolling back as he arches up into Eddie and spreads his legs. “Eddie, please.”

Normally, Eddie would slow down with Steve begging like this so soon, but tonight he’s just as needy, just as desperate to feel the warmth of Steve’s body. Neither of them can take much teasing when they were both like this. Withdrawing his fingers, Eddie makes quick work of slicking his cock with a liberal amount of lube and lines up.

The inward slide hurts because Eddie was not very gentle with Steve earlier—per Steve’s request—but being held and kissed while being nice and full all over again was more than enough to make the pain worth it. Steve sighs happily as Eddie bottoms out, sloppily licking into Eddie’s mouth while the man above him groans thickly.

“So warm,” Eddie coos, his brow furrowed cutely as he starts to move his hips.

Steve lets his head drop back against the pillows to watch his boyfriend’s expression. He can’t help but be amazed by the way Eddie’s jaw goes slack as he makes love to Steve slowly, the way his eyes flutter on each push inward. The way Eddie looks so grateful every time he gets to have Steve like this is still overwhelming for Steve even after a decade of being together, and he figures he probably never will be used to it.

With a sigh, Steve gently strokes Eddie’s hair and face, watching him as Eddie takes what he needs from his body. It feels good, the ache subsiding and becoming distinctly enjoyable as Eddie’s movements against and inside him become firmer, more determined.

Eddie forces his eyes open to meet Steve’s gaze before he turns his head to kiss Steve’s hand again. Then he takes Steve’s thumb into his mouth, sucking on it gently with a low growl and Steve can’t help the punched-out noise that escapes. Steve drags Eddie into another kiss, shuddering as the change in position has Eddie’s cock hitting his prostate on every slide inward. The shift also has Steve’s weeping cock trapped between their bodies, Eddie’s lower abdomen rocking against it with every single thrust.

“Close, Stevie,” Eddie gasps, and Steve wraps his legs around him tightly. He was desperate to feel Eddie come inside him, to feel the warm bloom of his release as deep as possible.

“Do it, baby,” Steve encourages him, sliding a hand down to play with Eddie’s nipple. “Come inside me.”

That’s all it takes, all it ever really takes when Eddie gets like this, and he comes to a stuttering halt while his cock pulses in Steve’s hole. And Steve whines, his eyes rolling back at the rush of warmth around the twitching girth inside him.

Propping himself up a bit above Steve, Eddie reaches between them to stroke Steve’s cock, the movements firm and deliberate, single-minded in their purpose. It isn’t long before Steve comes in thick stripes over Eddie's hand and across his own stomach while Eddie rocks his softening cock in and out of him.

Finally, Eddie pulls out and shifts down the length of Steve’s body to lap up the mess on Steve’s stomach, moaning as he fingers Steve’s messy and slick hole. Steve hisses a bit, overstimulated but not pulling away either.

“So warm,” Eddie repeats, pressing one last kiss to Steve’s stomach as he withdraws his fingers and gets up.

Steve pouts as he watches his boyfriend shuffle into the bathroom, even though he knows Eddie was coming right back.

Sure enough, Eddie returns with a warm cloth to clean Steve up a bit. Tossing the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom door, Eddie collapses onto the bed and gathers Steve up in his arms.

By now, the rain has stopped and Steve sighs happily. They’re both happy, warm, and satisfied, reassured that they are both alive and well.

“I love you, Eddie,” Steve murmurs as he presses a kiss to Eddie’s smiling lips.

“I love you, too, Stevie,” Eddie whispers back, and neither of them pull away from the kiss until they’re barely able to keep their eyes open.

[ AO3 LINK ]

Taglist! @patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @steve-harringtits, @afewproblems, @matchingbatbites, @mylilplanet, @steddie-there, @steddieas-shegoes, @xenon-demon, @indigohightide, @inairbinad I hope you enjoy the fic!! Please consider reblogging!! Let me know in the tags or the reblog comments if you would like to join the taglist for the other Steddie Week fics!

[whineandcheese24]

so @erch0maii said in a post that i didn’t want to hijack that the reason that both screen adaptations of tmi didn’t feel quite right is because they were these dark gritty adaptations while the books are, at heart, campy and silly and comical. and i was thinking about this and how it relates to the other series in the tsc canon. when i first read tsc i thought that the reason they felt tmi felt different from tid, tda, and tlh is because they were her first books but it really all comes down to the character’s sense of humor and genre awareness. because all the other tsc series (and i’m betting twp too) take themselves so seriously, but timi doesn’t do that. 

with genre awareness, the characters are put in this dark edgy fantasy war series but they act like their in a satire or a comedy. my favorite parts of qoaad were when jace and clary were in these dangerous situations and were acting so nonchalant about it. and it wasn’t even like a fake confidence or something, they genuinely just are Like That. like at the war council they walked in casually with normal clothes and people didn’t even notice them until lily called them out. like, they could have changed, they could have made a big entrance, but no, why bother. and later in brocelind when manuel rips out the tent and they’re playing tic tac toe. they don’t acknowledge him at all, not even to make a joke about him ruining the tents they borrowed. they just sit there playing tic tac toe. and again on the imperishable fields, jace has a knife to manuel’s back and clary is holding the stanchion but emma describes them as walking as if they’re out for a morning stroll.

and like look at the parallels between the series. the tlh crew met one and a half princes of hell and barely made it out with their sanity. the tmi gang has collectively met 3 princes of hell and in literally every situation they’re on the same level. when emma and julian went to thule it was this dark scary traumatizing thing, this actual hell that wasn’t quite hell. and when james, matthew, lucie, and cordelia went to edom it was this terrible experience that both lucie and matthew spent literally dying. but when the tmi gang went to hell, what ever. yeah it was serious and traumatic and scarring but not in the same way. izzy and simon hooked up. clary and jace had sex. and alec made fun of all four of them for it after. jace got caught by a demon and clary scolded him like he left the fridge open. they literally snuck into sebastian’s elite fortress with a plan from simon’s dnd campaign. and diyu?  even when simon was having a mental breakdown he managed to flirt with izzy it took the tlh gang 3 long-ass books to defeat belial and christopher died in the process. the tmi gang beat sammael in a f*cking side book. if you go to the shadowhunter wiki and go to azazel’s history he’s said as being a part of team good. imagine how casual you have to be to get a prince of hell to join ‘team good’

and then there’s the angels. tessa’s contact with ithuriel almost killed her. emma and julian’s whole nephilim thing also almost killed them. and yeah, clary’s first encounter with raziel was very somber and serious. but in cols simon literally blackmailed raziel into giving him a magical sword. and with faerie, every encounter that the tda gang have with faeries or in faerie is this dangerous quest that could get everybody killed. the tmi gang don’t hesitaste to insult the seelie queen to her face

the thing that sets tmi apart from the rest of tsc is the characters’ refusal to take anything, themselves and everyone around them, seriously for very long

[runninriot]

Inspired by the prompt Love is just a four-letter word by @sal-si-puedes for @steddielovemonth day 27

 the definition of love

wc: 944 | rated: t | tags: Established Relationship, Sappy Steddie, Dustin and Eddie friendship, Dustin and Steve friendship, Dustin is going through a bit of heartbreak

   “This is so stupid! What even is love?”

It’s not a question Eddie thought he’d ever get asked by Dustin. But he gets it, knows how much it hurts to have your heart broken for the very first time. Especially as a teenager, when it feels like it’s literally the end of the world.

Eddie thinks about it, let’s the question sink in.

    What is love?

Well, technically speaking, love is just a four-letter word. But it’s also so much more than that.

Love is a variety of expressions and emotions. Love is big gestures and little things that go unnoticed in the day to day life.

To Eddie, it’s the fear of losing Steve. It’s saying ‘Drive safe’ like a little prayer every day when Steve leaves for work in the mornings because Eddie couldn’t bear if anything ever happened to him.

Love is adoration, telling Steve ‘You look so hot in those jeans’ or ‘My pretty boy’ just to see him blush, just to let him know how beautiful he is.

Love is pride. To be rightfully self-appreciating of the things they’ve accomplished as a couple – overcoming insecurities, sticking together even through tough times, making plans for a future together.

Love is never wanting to be apart from Steve.

Love is a three-word sentence, a confession of the heart Eddie makes every night before they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Sometimes it’s saying ‘I’m sorry’ after a fight. It’s saying ‘I cooked your favourite meal’ or ‘Let’s watch that movie you like’.

Love is saying ‘Thank you’ and ‘Pleaaase, baby’.

Other times it’s not saying anything at all, when Eddie just lets his lips pour all his feelings into a kiss or when he lets his fingers worship Steve’s body, caressing each scar, each blemish, every perfect imperfection that makes him unique.

It’s the flittering butterfly wings he feels in his stomach when Steve smiles at him and the prickling on his skin he feels whenever they touch.

Love is holding each other. Having your favourite person’s arms wrapped around you for comfort, when you’re cold, or just for the sake being close.

Sometimes, love isn’t gentle. It’s rough and wild. Sometimes it hurts, runs through your veins like a raging fire, smouldering in your soul.

It’s passion and longing.

Love is taking each other apart, becoming one in heated moments. It’s the urge to bite and suck and lick, to savour the taste of sweat drenched skin and spit slick holes.

It’s the rhythm of their bodies moving in sync, grinding, and gliding, and sinking in.

It’s falling together and landing on clouds.

Love is the delightful sound Steve makes when he laughs loudly at one of Eddie’s stupid jokes and the soft, whispered words they share in the dark of the night.

It’s a melody Eddie absently plays on his guitar while his mind is filled with thoughts about Steve.

Love is a four-letter word but sometimes it’s five – because it’s Liebe in German, and Amour in French, and to Eddie it’s Steve.

Love is everything, and if it’s true then it’s forever.

Love is what makes Eddie’s life complete.

   “You’ll know once you find it,” Eddie finally says, placing a comforting arm on Dustin’s shoulders to pull him into a brotherly hug.

It might not be the most satisfying answer but it’s the best he can give. And he knows one day Dustin will understand, when he finds the person holding the other half to his heart in their chest.

Eddie never expected to find his other half in Steve of all people but now that he knows what it’s like to love him and to be loved by him, he never wants to be without again.

   “You just gotta be patient,” he adds, can see Dustin rolling his eyes without seeing his face, huffing and sniffling into his shirt.

There’s a gentle knock and when he looks up, Eddie finds Steve’s worried face peeking through the half-open door.

    ‘Is everything okay?’ Steve mouths, pointing at Dustin who still hasn’t let go of Eddie.

Eddie smiles and nods at his boyfriend, forming a silent ‘I love you’ with his lips, just because.

Steve turns around and tries to make his way back into the hallway.

   “I know you’re there, Steve. Just get your ass in here,” Dustin mumbles into Eddie’s embrace, waving a hand in the general direction of Steve.

He only looks up once he can feel Steve’s hand on his back.

   “Suzie broke up with me.”

   “I’m sorry, buddy. That sucks.”

Dustin wipes his eyes with his sleeve, shrugs his shoulders, and sighs defeated.

   “Love is bullshit.”

Steve and Eddie share a look, soft and doting.

   “Yeah it is,” Steve smiles, “but it’s also the best goddamn thing in the world.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, takes Steve’s hand in his and kisses the back of it.

   “Ugh, you guys are the worst. I knew I should’ve gone to Robin instead. At least she knows what it’s like to be hopeless.”

With that being said, Dustin makes his way out of the room, ready to wallow alone in his heartbreak.

But before he exists through the door, he turns around one more time, finds Steve and Eddie still holding hands, looking at each other in a way that makes him want to barf and melt at the same time.

Because no matter how much he hates to admit – whatever they have, theirs is the true definition of love.

Maybe, Dustin thinks, feels something like hope blooming in his chest despite the lingering sadness, one day, I’ll find something just as perfect and wonderful.

[gamma-rae-bursts]

She'll Know Me Crazy

y/n is having a no good day, Alex is there to make things better

Pairing: Alex Blake x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: period talk, Morgan being an idiot

Word Count: 1500+

Genre: Fluff

A/N: This piece is a little gift for @storiesofsvu, with the prompts "I can't believe you remembered that" and "I remember everything about you". Covers the "rainy day" square of Katt's birthday bingo (interpreted as both literal rain and a bad day). Title stolen from Hozier's "Jackie and Wilson".

Your periods were always bad, but this morning you woke up with the worst cramps you’ve had in months. Barely managing to drag yourself out of bed in time to get ready for work. You put on a minimal amount of makeup and a simple outfit before you were out of your apartment. The sky was covered with grey clouds, making it impossible for any sunshine to peak through as the streams of water made their way to the ground. You were happy you didn't bother with styling your hair as the even during the short walk from your apartment to you car you got completely soaked. Your day did not get any better when Starbucks managed to mess up your order, but you’ve only realised that when you sat down by your desk, not quite ready to face the day ahead of you. 

“Y/n you okay over there?” Derek’s voice sounded through the bullpen shifting your attention from the paperwork you had been working on “No offence, but you’re looking a little dead.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, knowing that you did not feel well, but you weren’t quite aware of your looks being such a reflection of it. “I’m alive, that’s the most you’re getting out of me today.” You replied giving the man a death stare.

“Leave the girl alone Morgan, she’s having a rough day” Alex added, also aiming her stare at the poor man. 

Fortunately for him, Derek ceased his questioning after the looks the two of you gave him, not wanting to sign his death sentence quite yet. 

As you were getting back to your work, you glanced towards Alex, giving her a weak smile. 

She was the newest member of the team, joining right after Emily’s departure to London. You tried your best to give the charming brunette a warm welcome to the team, always making sure to include her in conversations and team nights out. Thanks to that you got to know her a little better than the rest of the BAU, you found many interests that the two of you shared and would get absolutely consumed by in the conversations. It didn’t take long for listening to Alex talk (about absolutely anything) to become one of your favourite pastimes during lunch breaks. Her passion radiated through her as she spoke, the speech always enhanced by her soft gestures gracefully forming shapes through air. You had a particularly soft spot for the linguist’s voice, her words flowed effortlessly as she explained complex matters and discussed her favourite works. 

As the weeks passed and you got to know each other better you started noticing more and more things about Alex that had you in complete awe over the woman. To say that you were extremely attracted to the brunette would be a gross understatement. It was the softness of her voice every time she spoke that gave you butterflies. Her brown hair curled into soft waves perfectly framing her face. Her rich dark eyes that held warmth, present even during the darkest cases. She had a scar over her right eyebrow for which she made up a little cover story of how she got hit during one of her past cases. After one too many drinks Alex revealed to you the true circumstances of gaining the mark and sworn you to secrecy, being a little too embarrassed to confess to the rest of the team. She laughed as she told you the story of her brother, Scott, pushing her off from a swing when they were kids, resulting in the brunette hitting her head on the bar.  

You admired her courage and determination, always pushing herself to her limits to save lives with the rest of the team. You weren’t aware of the heart eyes you made her way each time she spoke, and it was only when Penelope pointed it out on one of the nights out that you became overly aware of them. The blonde did not stop badgering you to make a move on the linguist claiming that she caught her giving you the same looks, but every time you dismissed her attempts, trying to convince her that there was no way the linguist even liked women, let alone one of her co-workers.

The rest of the day passed with no major issues and fortunately for you the team did not get called for another case. The sounds of rain roamed through the bullpen throughout the whole day, occasional lightnings and thunder making you happier to not be out in the field. Just as you were packing your things ready to head home you heard the rest of the agents voices as they entered the bullpen, the one of Penelope caught your attention.

“Up for a drink sugar plum?” the blonde squealed as she approached your desk.

“I’m gonna have to pass on today Pen” you responded, and the woman immediately gave you her best attempt at puppy eyes, pleading for you to join, “I’m sorry but the only thing I want today is to pass out on my couch snuggled in my blankets, the cramps are no joke” you laughed.

“Oh come on, don’t be boring y/n!” Morgan teased and immediately regretted his words when all the women directed their stares at him. 

“Bring back this attitude when you have a bleeding uterus Morgan, and for your own sake I advise not a single more word to come out of your mouth.” you laughed at JJ’s words when she gave you a gentle pat on your shoulder. “Now let the girl go home and get some rest.”

“Alright, alright. How about you Blake, you in?” he turned to face Alex.

“I’ll have to pass as well; I have crosswords and wine waiting for me at home.” the woman smiled.

“Now, that’s boring. But each to their own I guess!”

You watched the agents leave as you finished collecting your items from the desk, saying a goodbye to Alex as you left the bullpen. You put on your favourite playlist as you got into your car, hoping that the music will be a source of relief. The drive to your apartment wasn’t long and before you knew it you were unlocking the door, making your way inside the flat. You rid yourself of your coat and shoes, leaving them in their designated spaces, dropping the keys in a ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter. Before you settled on couch with your current favourite sitcom playing you took a quick shower to wash off the exhaustion of the day. 

Just as you made yourself comfortable in your favourite spot, wrapped in at least 3 blankets you heard a knock on your door.

“Thought you might need a little pick me up” she smiled as she raised the bag of takeout into your view. Not just any takeout, it was from your favourite Indian restaurant from downtown DC, located way out of the way from Alex’s house to yours. 

You smiled at her in response, opening the door wider so she could go in. 

“If you don’t feel like company tonight that’s completely fine, I thought I might just drop it off to make sure you have a good dinner.” she added

“Thank you, and I’d love for you to stay.” you smiled warmly

“Well come on then, let’s eat” 

“What about your date with crosswords and wine?” you said raising your brow.

“This is just as good”

She made her way to your kitchen, already knowing her way around it as it was not the first time she brought some food over, or even cooked for you. You were kind of a disaster in the kitchen, often preferring to order takeout than deal with the fire extinguisher and the mess it left. 

“Here you go, butter chicken with a side of naan and rice, just as you like it” she handed you the plate with a soft smile across her face “I also brought some ice cream, they were out of the chocolate fudge brownie, but I hope half-baked is just as good?” 

“It’s perfect, thank you” you whispered.

Alex swiftly moved through your apartment, plating her food before she took a seat next to you, placing a plate of samosas on the table for the two of you to share.

You continued watching the show as you ate, taking breaks to explain to the brunette what was actually going on there. As you finished your meal you watched a few more episodes before Alex walked back to your kitchen, bringing over the tub ice cream and two spoons. “Ready for dessert?” 

“You know I’m always ready” you chuckled. “I can’t believe you remembered all of that” you whispered as she handed you the ice cream to take the first spoonful. 

“I remember everything about you” Alex smiled and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Maybe Penelope was right after all.

Taglist: @nightmarish-fae @storiesofsvu @maybe-a-humanbean @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @venromanova @geekyandgay98 @lisaannwalterstan @bratty-subby-girly @ashbones

Join my taglist here!

[hells-sirenqueen]

As Lilith continued to rebuild her kingdom brick by brick, flashes of memory came back to her from her final day before she ended up here. Her heart ached at the memory. She had the scar to prove it - as did her beloved Lucifer.

Lilith made sure of it. Such a bittersweet ending they had. It was only a matter of time before she had to fight him, back then. The tension between Heaven and Hell was so thick one could literally cut it with a knife.

Fallen angels were dubbed commanding officers to lead hordes of demons - all following the lead of their cursed demon queen. Any who refused to fight in her name were either burned or decapitated on sight. She refused to allow any to speak a word against her to live. You either supported the queen or you suffered for your ignorance.

Father had warned her that pressing for war was a bad idea. It would only bring heartbreak and destruction. Even after being summoned into in realm for a serious 1v1, she dismissed his warnings and twisted his words into things she wanted to hear.

Destruction? Wonderful! If she falls, she's taking his precious Heaven with her. Their hypocritical double standards made her skin crawl. Their preaching fell upon deaf ears. She refused to believe that anything that Heaven preached was true.

Heartbreak? Well that was easy as ever to narrow down. There have been a few encounters between her and Lucifer before her march to Heaven. His "monitoring Hell on Heaven's behalf" felt more like an excuse to see her. There was one time she was so close to distracting him from his duty. A time where he caught a glimpse of her executing a Duke for thinking about assassinating her with one of his own men by seducing her.

She wouldn't stand for it. After sending his body to the cannibals, she had her guards take his head to the gates and placed on a pike. Following the action of giving her orders, she caught a glimpse of Lucifer standing in the shadows, silently watching. The corners of her lips curved as she made her way to his location. She questioned him, as it wasn't safe for him to be alone in Hell. He uttered a reply, saying he could handle her on his own if needed to. Classic of Lilith to utter an innuendo, hoping that he certainly could handle her - preferably without all of his noisy armor.

He became flustered, turned away from her but she never heard a note of rejecting the idea. She teased him with a brief kiss and managed to lure him to her chambers for an hour but she sadly couldn't convince him to stay. He was still honor bound to serve Heaven. He refused to remain in her arms, giving an excuse that he had to report back topside and warned that she should stay more than an arm's length away from him if she knew what was good for her.

Though his words hurt, she could tell in his eyes that he struggled to believe in his own words. He wanted to stay, he wanted to remain in her arms..but he couldn't. Duty came before personal wants. God's favorite solider had a weakness and she planned on exploiting it for all it was worth until he was in her claws.

It wasn't long before his visits became less frequent, the work of those above rank. All the more reason to tear Heaven apart!

When her people were ready, she made her orders. They were greeted by quite the welcoming party. The finest that Heaven had to offer greeted them at the Golden Gates. The angel heading the welcome party? Who better than Lucifer himself.

He warned her to step down, to turn turn around and return to Hell so there would be no bloodshed; all while pointing a blade at her.

He stood his ground but she could see those dark circles around his eyes. The fatigue, the pain in his soul for being separated for so long. She had a feeling that if they weren't being watched that he would drop his blade and come running.

Oh, the poor tortured thing. They were doing her job for her! The absolute nerve!

But he wouldn't move, not even as she pointed out Heaven's flaws and pointed out how he looked ragged. As much as she detested having to fight him, she gave him a curved grin and took him up on his challenge. Taking out her own blade made of obsidian, their blades clashed. War broke out at the gates as the many legions of Heaven battled against Hell.

All the while, Lilith and Lucifer fought in the sky. She played dirty, using shadows to sneak attacks here and there. At one point, he managed to pin her against a wall, berating Lilith for being so selfish for having this war to begin with.

She only laughed. The reason for her war was to dismantle the powers that be, those that were in charge of Heaven and change how their laws were. Every lesson she had been preached to screamed hypocritical. If they were supposed to have unity, their laws were double standards.

She spoke with Sera and others before, to come to a compromise but Heaven refused to budge. It was Hell that had to change, not them. She didn't quite like the idea that change had to be one way. So she repeated to Lucifer what she told God; if one is making the effort to change, unity he wishes for won't happen. Change must go both ways. If not, then there is no more room to talk. Only action. Action to validate one's opinion.

She was going to head for Sera's head and take great joy in holding her head in her claws.

That obviously didn't go well with Lucifer.

So their battle continued and he managed to score several hits against her, but she was still standing tall, taunting him. Her taunt was the final straw.

He uttered a prayer before throwing his holy blade in her direction. Lilith's eyes gave a dark sinister glow as she used shadows to teleport him against her chest. If she was going down, she would take him down with her.

His blade ran through them both as she pulled him into a bittersweet loving kiss. Their last moments alive spent with each other's blood in their mouths.

Lilith smiled against his lips, feeling him kiss back as his arms hesitantly wrapped around her as the angelic steel slowly killed them.

As darkness slowly wrapped around her mind, the last sight she recalled was the glowing golden gaze of regret from her Lucifer.

When she awoke once more, the bodies of her fallen soldiers were no where to be seen. Not even Lucifer was to be seen anywhere. Her skin was paler and she noticed how broken the gates of Heaven were. Before she could explore, she was pulled by shadows and thrown into a small pocket plane; imprisoned for centuries.

Now, she had a second chance to pull him into her arms once more. She was tired of others keeping him away from her. The only time she felt alive was when she felt his presence at her side.

Taking a deep breath, she continued to rebuild her Hell. It may have few subjects, but she would make due with what she had. A number of vampires and lesser demons thrived here in this little space bubble. Soon it would be thriving with more subjects, but at least they had a decent start.

ll @themosthatedbeingg ll

[hazelnut-u-out]

i've been going through a lot, but i finally managed to get around to finishing my first birdrick fic in literal agesssss.

all the lovely ship art i've seen recently kept me motivated to push through and finish a draft, so shoutout to all of the lovely birdrick artists out there <3

as always, you can find it on my ao3 (here!), but i'll post the full text below the cut for those who prefer it :3

2735 words | light angst

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

Scars

Rick wrung his hands. Artificial callous gloving artificial bone.

He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about the fact that he was no longer in his original body. It was contradictory. Rick had found within himself no sentiment of sanctity for the individual, but always found a melancholy homesickness for his old prison of a vessel.

For actual, honest-to-God flesh and blood. 

...That wasn't made in a clone vat.

It suited him, though—to be more machine than man. He’d always felt sort of like an AI, or a robot, or… something. Being human was foreign to him, as if he weren’t actually a member of the same species. Space—full of the weird, gross, and incomprehensible—felt more like coming home than leaving it.

Rick often found himself victim to the same odd sentiment when it came to the sentient creatures he met during his exploration of the unknown.

Well, he thought. Less of an exploration than it was a search .

Sometimes, he wished he had spent more time living than waiting to die.

Now, for instance, some stupid pang of sentimentality—completely unscientific and devoid of productive purpose—had him standing on a branch, drenched in slightly-too-acidic-to-be-comfortable rainwater, and hoping to fuck he’d answer the door.

This place was sadder than he remembered it. The limbs of the trees drooped to face the forest floor, crying silently. From where Rick stood, they enveloped him as if they were breathing, protecting what dared to inhabit them. The sky was overcast a dark grey, teaming up with the dead of night to douse everything in shadow. So few bird people still lived on this planet that the light from homes and rudimentary nests was few and far between. Counting on the consistency of sentient life to light your way on this planet wouldn’t get you anywhere.

It wasn’t as if it were necessarily remote. The remnants of what once was were still there, residing in living memory for the dwindling numbers of a generation. Nature, as it does on all planets siring life, engulfed the residue a growing species leaves in its wake.

Trees swallowed the walls of homes. Vines obscured pathways. Hanging bridges and sky-born signs broke apart. 

Everything felt weighed down. 

Every time Rick came here, it seemed worse. Life seemed more forgotten. Culture, language, and tradition resting on the tired shoulders of people who would never know one another. 

A planet scarred. 

A person scarred.

A friendship scarred.

Rick had tried to reach out to Birdperson over the last few weeks.

It was excruciating. He would lay out on the roof—intoxicated, comatose, and splayed out like a patient anesthetized along a table—and stare at the light of the beacon as it pierced the clouds.

It was the longest time he’d ever gone without talking to him since they’d met, and he’d started to… miss things.

He hated it.

Missing something was an admission of caring about it—which he did not do. About anything.

So, as anyone who didn’t give a shit would, he stood soaked, drunk, and unannounced at his best friend’s door in the middle of the night.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Rick lifted his hand and gently rapped his knuckles against the coarse wood.

Three times. If he didn’t answer after three sets of knocks, he’d just leave. He didn’t even care.

One.

Two.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, turning away.

The muffled sound of a small child crying out seeped past the rain.

Turning, Rick saw a light flicker on inside, causing a warm glow to fall along the deep bark and caress the tips of his black loafers.

Frozen, Rick tuned his audio-enhancing implants to the small movements on the other side of the walls.

“Oh, my little nestling,” a gruff Birdperson murmured. “Hush, now. You have already had a bath. It is time for sleep.”

Rick didn’t need to draw on his extensive experiences with Birdperson to know he was exhausted.

For a brief moment, he thought of the conversation he’d had with Beth earlier. That familiar cold pit of guilt roiled in his gut.

He knocked again.

“Perhaps someone agrees with you, little one,” Birdperson whispered, Rick hearing every bit of it as he allowed his implants to violate some unspoken rule of privacy and familial intimacy. “Unreasonable creatures are up at unreasonable hours.”

Rick listened as the click of talons approached the door.

Light properly flooded the space Rick inhabited as the door slowly opened. The hiss of rain suddenly engulfed him as his implants switched off.

Birdperson’s face didn’t look like Rick had expected it to. There was apprehension and a bit of shock, but an aura of relief remained beneath it.

Rick’s thoughts raced to how he must have looked. Soaked, lab coat clinging to his thin frame. Pathetic.

Like an old, wet cat.

In an old, wet box. 

On an old, wet street.

“Listen, I… I wasn’t sure if I should come, but, uh… I—”

“Rick,” Birdperson interjected softly. “I am very grateful you came. Please, come in.” Birdperson—smaller, fluffier bird child writhing in his arms—moved slightly to the side, gesturing a stubbled chin for Rick to enter.

He obliged, shivering in earnest as the heat of the home swallowed him, calling attention to just how cold he really was.

“Would you please hold her for a moment?” his companion asked, desperation dripping from his plea. Rick finally allowed himself to take in his friend’s state.

The bird man before him stood slightly slouched forward, small patches of discoloration littering his limbs. His eyes were sunken, his face unshaven, and his scarred arms shook as they extended the child towards Rick.

“Mmm… Yeah, let me just…” Rick rolled up his left sleeve and pressed a tiny ruby of a button on the side of his watch with his thumb. Instantly, his clothes poofed up and settled back against his skin, now pleasantly warm and dry. 

The small gust of toasty air gently ruffled the feathers covering both sets of wings before him.

Rick reached out, taking the child in his arms. She let out a terrible shriek.

“Dios!” Rick blurted. “She’s got a set of lungs, eh?”

“Like you would not believe,” Birdperson grumbled as he shuffled further into the home, plopping down on the sofa. “I am so glad you came.”

“Oh?” Rick said timidly, tucking the child—whom he now noticed wore a straight-jacket-like onesie that restrained her arms but did little to prevent her tiny legs from swinging wildly in her struggle—casually beneath one arm and following in tow. “I kinda thought you’d be pissed, to be honest.”

“Perhaps if I were less exhausted, I would have the energy to care about quarrels and friendships,” his friend replied flatly, leaning forward and pressing his palms into his eyes. “You think being dead is exhausting. Then, you come back to life and raise… What is the term you used to refer to Beth? Antichrist?”

“You’re thinking of ‘hellion,’” Rick answered. “I’ve only ever spoken about the antichrist in a positive light.”

“Ahh… Well, you come back to life and raise a hellion. Whatever that means on Earth.” Birdperson stretched his wings out behind him, unfurling himself backward and sinking into the crease of the sofa. Rick chastised himself for admiring how his newfound scars—still pink and sensitive—highlighted the soft contour of his chest and stomach. “I recall that your daughter…” his friend shot him a wary look. “— daughters were quite spirited children.”

“I only had one at this age. You can just stick with singular.” Rick shrugged.

“Is that not disrespectful?” his partner asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

“How so?”

“Your culture emphasizes pronouns, no? So how would plurality of self be any different? Does referring to both of your daughters as one, even though they are now separate, not erase their individuality?”

“Oh, BP that’s—that’s cute and all. Real cute, but, ah…” Rick chuckled. “One, we need to brush you up on the fact that there are literally infinite versions of everyone . Two, neither of my current daughters are my original daughter. She was never cloned, so I think we’re safe to just say she was one girl, eh? Who knows if she would’ve had a clone?”

Rick forced himself to keep smiling and swallow the lump in his throat. He tightened his grip on the child twisting and growling beneath his right arm, locking his cybernetic joint in place.

“Ah, I see,” Birdperson said, concern etching its way along his brow. He threw a quick glance at his child, then back up at Rick. “You are drunk.”

“What about it? I’m always drunk,” Rick questioned, a bit annoyed.

“Yes, but a nestling is present.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Rick waved a hand in dismissal, shifting his weight to one foot. “Never killed Beth.”

Lie . Rick felt as though he’d swallowed sand.

“I will consider a compromise,” Birdperson proposed, a single corner of his mouth twitching impishly.

“Go on.”

“If you put her to bed for me, I will forgive you for the unprompted visit and inappropriate intoxication.”

Rick let out an amused huff. “Does the deal come with clean clothes and a place to crash tonight?”

“Are you out of portal fluid?” Birdperson raised an eyebrow.

“Home is… complicated,” Rick sighed, averting his eyes to a set of three empty wooden picture frames hanging on the wall. He couldn’t remember in his stupor, but he could’ve sworn they used to have something in them. “It's easier not to portal back for supplies. Can I stay or not?”

“Deal.”

—

Rick shuffled down the dimly lit hallway, his socks lighting little sparks along the carpet.

The tee Birdperson had loaned him was littered in holes, about three sizes too big, and three decades old. All of that without even mentioning the breeze from the wing accommodations along the back. 

That was something he definitely didn’t miss about sharing BP’s clothes.

The Flesh Curtains was scrawled out along the front in curly hand-sewn font, courtesy of Squanchy’s mother.

Rick remembered his reaction. ‘Not exactly what I was looking for, but there’s something punk about it!’ he’d said when Birdperson put it on.

It was also the night he’d decided to build an automated machine to print the merch for them.

Rick had settled on just wearing his boxers and socks while his clothes were in the wash, figuring the shirt was long enough. The drying feature was a quick fix, but he swore the smell of the chemical reaction lingered on him afterward, and it would’ve been torture to be overstimulated for that long. Now, he regretted not asking if his friend had kept any of his sweats around, but he doubted it anyway.

Peeking his head into the doorway to the bedroom, he looked at his companion curled up in his nest. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly parted, and his cheeks flushed with sleep.

Rick would compare him to an angel, but that was overdone and, frankly, uncomfortably secular for a man of science. Instead, he'd settle for a great work of stone, carved to appear downy and plush. 

Rick cleared his throat, watching as Birdperson’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hmmm?” he hummed. “Did you get her put down?”

“Yeah,” Rick whispered back. “She’s a good kid. It only took twenty minutes of wrestling and about five made-up serial killer stories. I felt like I was hosting a true crime podcast.”

“Miss them at this age?” A playful quip.

Rick felt a pang in his chest.

“Always.” The word came out more pained than he’d meant it to. He cleared his throat. “I just need a blanket.”

“You need two?” Birdperson asked, gesturing to the blanket he had draped over himself.

“I—uh… I figured I’d take the couch tonight,” Rick responded, rubbing his elbow awkwardly. “I assumed you’d abandoned the whole ‘communal nest’ thing since the kid’s got her own room.”

“If I let her share a nest with me, I think she’d kill me,” Birdperson said with a snicker. “I had her in here the first night and I woke up to her trying to choke me with a stray branch.”

“Welcome to the club,” Rick huffed.

“Come to bed,” Birdperson murmured, something soft and light to his voice that made Rick’s heart skip a beat.

Honestly, he hadn’t planned for this.

Sure, he hadn’t cared to do this twenty years ago, but Squanchy was there most of the time, and when he wasn’t… Well, situations were different.

Still, despite the change of plans, Rick resigned all too easily to his new fate, stepping into the room and clicking the door shut behind him.

He shuffled along the edge of the room, rounding the corner. The amber haze from the small lights at the corners danced over Birdperson’s imperfect skin as he pulled the blanket back, inviting Rick to slip in next to him.

Rick felt Birdperson’s warmth seep into his skin as he slid beneath the fabric. He laid flat on his back and found himself lifting one arm out of instinct.

It seemed that his friend had fallen into old habits as well, immediately finding the slot of space between Rick’s left arm and his torso and tucking himself into the curve of his ribs. Birdperson’s ear pressed against Rick’s sternum and, for a long time, they both lay there.

Just as Rick had begun to think his counterpart was finally sleeping, a soft murmur warmed the fabric of his shirt.

“You can barely hear your heart anymore,” his friend muttered.

“Huh?” Rick sighed, barely awake.

“When I first met you, your heart was the only thing I could hear when we slept. Now, it is only mechanical hubbub.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whirs. Clicks. Putters. That sort of thing.”

Rick ran the back of his right hand along the puffy edges of Birdperson’s scars from where it was pinned between them, thinking.

“I’ve never been alive, really. Like, in an organic sense. I’m… fake or—or artificial.”

“The life I led with you did not feel artificial.”

“Maybe it was, and you didn’t notice.”

“I would have noticed.”

“Would you?” Rick breathed out over a mess of plumage. “There was a time when you were more machine than person, too, you know. You seemed pretty content then.”

“Rick,” Birdperson sighed. “Please stop while I can still forgive you.”

“Would you make me leave if you couldn’t?”

“I…” his friend’s voice wavered. “Not now, but… I mean, thank you. Thank you for fixing me. Thank you for putting me back together, but, Rick… You are going to have to accept that I cannot do that for you.”

Rick didn’t understand. He didn’t want to understand. The realization felt leaden in his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I cannot fix you. It is not my job to let you berate me in hopes my compassion could one day repair you.”

The silence that followed was anything but silent. It was thick and nauseating with a life of its own. It squirmed between them, so that their bodies, though touching, were separated by some impermeable barrier.

Rick wanted to say so much. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to scream and cry and hold Birdperson like he’d melt away or slip through his fingers. He wanted to explain and barter and justify. He wanted to take accountability and swear to never speak to him ever again. 

What came out when he opened his mouth was shameful. Flippant and insensitive. He almost tried to swallow it before it came out. 

“At least you can say you tried, I guess.”

“Did I try enough? Do you think that you could have been different if I had tried harder when you were still… fixable?”

Rick blinked.

“You tried more than anyone else ever did. You… You had your own shit going on. If it makes you feel any better, I think you did fix a small part of me.”

“I am sorry, Rick.”

“For what?”

Rick was confused. He should be the one apologizing. Not Birdperson. 

Perfect, compassionate, sensitive Birdperson. 

“For not knowing. For moving on. For not moving on. For telling you, now, that I can never afford to give you another chance.”

A shaky breath.

“I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you.”

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

[spectres-fulcrum]

I was listening for Folklore while it was raining on the drive home(my mom was driving) and Obi-Wan is Mirrorball("I've never been a natural all I do is try try try", "hush I know they said the end was near, but", "I can change everything about me to fit in", "I'm still a believer and I don't know why") and Xanatos is This is Me Trying("I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting", "I could've followed my fears all the way down" "I didn't know if you'd care if I came back", "My words shoot to kill when I'm mad", "I was so ahead of the curve the curve became a sphere.") and Qui-Gon-

Qui-Gon's faithless love is the only Hoax they believed in after he betrayed them(Xan on the Telos mission, Obi-Wan when he carelessly tossed him aside for Anakin)("stood on the cliffside screaming give me a reason", ""You knew the hero died so what's the movie for?", "My only one, My kingdom come undone", "You knew it still hurt underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart but what you did was just as dark.)

Just. Pain. Xanatos being the gifted and talented child and Obi-Wan worked for every crumb of acknowledgment and both got shafted in the end :( Before the TCW disaster lineage trio we had this disaster lineage trio.

(Also I had to go to an out of town funeral today so my brain is cooked from waking up over two hours early so that is literally all I can handle analysis wise. Everything's fine tho! No one I was super close to. My dad's cousin's husband. We used to go to woodworking shows he had booths at pre-covid so I had good memories of him and his wife so I wanted to pay my respects)

[avoidingcertaindoom]

Whumtober Day 6

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY’RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | “It’s not my blood.”

~~~

Garreth had offered her a lift home, but Delia was already exhausted. She’d been on her feet all day, and hadn’t even gotten to do any inking in her hours on end at the shop. What was the point of swallowing her pride and being pawed at just for a faster trip home?

Thankfully she’d beaten her father there, and ensured everything at the business entrances was settled before she went up to the apartment. The joints in her prosthetic leg groaned as she trudged up the stairs, and she tuned it out as she wondered if she had time for a drink before dinner.

When she got to her room and started out of her day clothes, her leg didn’t want to cooperate.

She frowned and inspected it. Maybe it was a little more snug than usual, but it was a couple years old. She hadn’t grown that much in that time, it shouldn’t have been so tight.

Not wanting to add insult to injury, she tried wiggling a finger between the metal and the sleeve to loosen it that way. It was warm in there, and moist, which in itself wasn’t altogether surprising, but the dampness did not feel like sweat. When she removed her finger, it came away dark, dark red.

She took a deep breath and much, much more gently took hold of the sleeve to pull it down by the edges, lifting her partial limb away from it for good measure. The fabric clung to her skin almost as much as the closure to the prosthetic did, but a couple good tugs and it finally tore free, leaving the prosthetic to do the same and hit the floor with a loud thump.

The tearing was literal. The stump of her leg was swollen, covered in scabby, slow bleeding sores. The sleeve was stained and crusted with blood, looking to have glued itself to the prosthetic and her leg all at once until she’d ripped it free. 

Delia didn’t know if she was going to throw up or sob. She hadn’t even felt it--how would she, the nerves that went that way were dead? 

Before either response could win out, her phone rang. Her father’s ringtone. She swallowed back whatever was trying to erupt from her through and picked up, answering in her best attempt at boredom. “Hello?”

“I’m so sorry I’m late sweetheart, I should be home soon.” As expected of a late night at work, he sounded tired. Even more worn out than she felt herself.

She couldn’t put this on him and give him another thing to add to his stress. She had to get herself patched up and clean or hide everything before he could see. “That’s no problem! I just…” She racked her brain. “En’s car broke down and Nia had to drive out for both of us, so I’m just getting home anyway. I don’t think I’ll have time to cook, do you think you could stop for takeaway?” 

“That’s no problem. Any suggestions?”

“Anything but pizza, please. Love you!”

“Love you too. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended, and she stared down at her stump again. The skin between the sores wad a raw, angry red, and she could almost from this angle make out scarring from the last time this had happened.

Last time. How many did that make? She really had to try and figure out solutions for this nonsense.

[symphonic-scream]

More detail about Makoto(and haru possibly)?

Oh absolutely

Especially since a lot of facts about the two go hand In hand. Or paw in paw-

Get it cause. Cause

I'll tell you about Makoto

She's a turned werewolf. That means she was bitten and gained the curse of lycanthropy through a. Pretty traumatic event. Her bite mark scar is still there, near her right hip. It's just higher, like. Right at that gap between hip and rib

Every full moon after that first one, Makoto is locked in the boiler room of their apartment complex, in the dark, alone. There's one ratty blanket, for when she transforms back so she doesn't get cold before Sae wakes up and brings her a change of clothes

She doesn't go out for a minute after the sky starts to darken, from age 13. Well. Until one fateful night when she became acquainted with the Phantoms for the first time. Through. A bloody accident

Cause the solution for Kaneshiro? Death :) He doesn't give up his power to return it back to Morgana. No. He dies

See. The Phantoms are tracking him down completely separately from Makoto. They're after him for the magic, she's after him cause he's taking advantage of her fellow students

And on the next full moon, Sae has to stay late working on a case and decides to trust Makoto to lock herself in the boiler room. With a promise that if she's not down there when Sae goes to fetch her in the morning, all trust will be taken back.

Does Makoto stay home? No, she goes to confront the Mafia, believing she'd make it home in time. And. She does not. The Phantoms turn up just as the sun rises, to see Makoto transform back from a beast that had killed the entire Kaneshiro mafia

Like. All of them

It's then a race to get her cleaned up and back in the boiler room, where Sae does find her. Saving Makoto from having to be chained up every moon, and giving her a big reason to trust them

Also. That's the night she finds out she's gay.

Makoto joins the gang, helping them get away with more things at school, helping them study better, and making Yusuke no longer the only member with an animal form at that time

Until then she was using a leather belt to keep her tail in place, leading to chaffing on her thigh and leaving her tail sore. Ann's parents design clothing for monsters, and she has them create a softer tail bind for her

And now for some Haru too

So they are dating in this au. As of the end of the Okumura arc. They're sweethearts, with Haru sneaking into the boiler room on full moons to comfort a frightened Moonkoto. She brings little nightlights, blankets, pillows, stashing them behind a boiler before she leaves in the morning. And just

The mental image of big full moon wolf Makoto being all kind and gentle as she receives a nose rub from this ragdoll cat, the two curling up to sleep on a little blanket nest

Ragdoll cats are quite big, so Haru's cat form is still large despite her not being fully grown. She's practically like a little weighted blanket for Makoto, when she lies on her. A very cute weighted blanket

Haru is also monumental in getting Makoto to accept her like, inner wolf stuff. Theres that

Oh and. A little thing about them in Strikers. The day Zenkichi approaches everyone is the same day there's an illegitimate lesbian wedding in Leblanc. Gay marriage isn't legal and they're technically only like. 18. So. They have a mock ceremony with Morgana officiating as they perform a soul bond ritual

So they're literally Soul Mates.

[starry-blue-echoes]

Top 5 Disney Villian Deaths for which Top 5 JoJo Villains?

oooooooooo this is an interesting one, but I'm definitely gonna have to think on this one (also these definitely isn't in order because I was having a lot of trouble weighing the jojo villains vs disney villains so I just decided "screw it" and put them in the order I made the pairs)

1) Pucci with Scar because I like the idea of him winning for a period of time but failing to satisfy the goals of those working for him since he lacks Dio's charisma and in the end when he throws them away because of his power, when he's weakest those very same minions end up being the ones to tear him apart

2) not technically a death but Diavolo with Jafar, because I like the idea of him gaining ultimate power, ie the Arrow, but having that very same power being his undoing (however if you wanna get technical, he does die as a genie in the sequel to Aladdin so.... it might count?)

3) Kars with Maleficent's defeat, pretty much just for the Cool Factor. Not much reasoning I can give here except for the fact it'd look cool as hell and ngl it sounds fun to draw

4) Kira with Shan Yu because of the fun symbolism to replace the ambulance irony. Him going out with a literal bang thanks to the fireworks and drawing so much attention to himself after he spent so much time and energy to not be noticed

5) this one isn't quite as similar as the previous but it'd be a CRIME to leave Dr.Facillier off a list of my favorite villains, so I'm pairing him with Dio and I do think it'd be interesting to have him be dragged away into the depths by the very dark powers he chose to tamper with

and also as a sort of +1 at the end because I liked the idea but REFUSE to say Valentine is a favorite of mine so

+1) Valentine with Madame Medusa's (she the villain from Rescuers Down Under) because I want this man to be eaten alive by crocodiles <333

[justfor2am]

it is midnight i have been on n off asleep since like 7 .anyways perspective flip, bts, for want of a nail, + a thousand words of the unusual fic asks? for whatever fics u want as usual 🫡

doing these ones out of order because brain said so, anyways— BTS: I’ll write a DVD commentary about my personal favorite passage from: [7th Sense] (Chapter 9: he's picking a lock he doesn't go into)

The final scene of that chapter, with grian and mumbo, is probably my favorite part of this fic so far, mostly because i'm getting to explore a different side of depression than I often see written in fics.

usually, you get the sadness, the shaking, the no talking/no eating, the limp, wilted flower who needs to be saved. and yes, depression is that sometimes, but it can be, and often is, so much messier than that.

it's anger. it's misplaced frustrations because the truth is too scary to confront, it's knowing you need to shower/brush your teeth/get dressed and being unable to do it anyways. it's not doing those things on purpose because you think you don't deserve them. it's quiet lethargy, it's restless nights that turn into a room ripped apart because you just can't fucking sleep so you're making it someone else's problem.

it's the lashing out at someone who means the world to you, because maybe this time they're take the hint and leave forever. it's knowing deep down that you're too scared to ask for help, and that you didn't mean to help them.

grian isn't magically better by the end of the chapter. his room's still a mess, he still hasn't eaten or gotten cleaned up, and he half asses his way through an apology to mumbo.

but he asks mumbo to open the window. and they both know the deeper meaning in that gesture, knowing that it was that very window that scar escaped into the night. that it's been firmly shut since then. it's progress, like it or not. _________ For Want of a Nail: If Scar had died giving Grian his life force in: [though i've closed my eyes, i know who you pretend i am] the ending, i'm sure you can imagine, is much more depressing. Eleri, the elven queen, would be without an heir to her bloodline, and the grief of losing her only son, the last blood family she had, would cause her magic to lash out, and cast the kingdom into a century of darkness. somewhere in that time, the heartbreak would kill her.

in the mad scramble to find someone to take over, gem would accept the offered kingdom, but feel immense regret over the situation, partially blaming herself for scar's death. if she had kept quiet and agreed to marry him in the first place, would he still be alive?

mumbo, now without a ward, would pledge himself to grian's aid, who very much does not want mumbo's help. grian is the most guilt-stricken of them all, half of scar's life force now pounding in his chest, keeping grian alive. that coupled with newfound avian instincts, and no mate to help ease him through the new magic in his blood, grian would be an complete mess, unwillingly relying on mumbo to keep his instincts at bay. it would be a few decades until, eventually, grian would isolate himself in the nearby mountain range, somewhere far too cold for a vampire like mumbo to follow.

grian would live out the rest of his days more animal than man, a self-inflicted penance for costing his lover his life.

good thing that didn't happen, right? _________ A Thousand Words: I’ll create a photoset/gifset that, IMO, sums up the main themes/concepts I intended for [the blood i'm owed is all yours] (trying to motivate myself to update the damn thing lmao)

compromise, i'm doing a playlist instead because this post is long enough as is. no particular listening order, put this bitch on shuffle king

_________ Perspective Flip: I’ll write a scene from [Why Do I (Even Try?)] from another character’s point-of-view (Chapter 18: just count to ten, and try to breathe)

(italics are original text, i wrote this stream-of-conscious style literally this moment so sorry if it's not super cohesive)

Grian hid behind his wine glass, the ruby drink only brightening his blush. "Rule two, no letting the public find out. I've got a lick of sense about me, and I know that we would be immediately framed as me being the pity points, some kinda mangy boyfriend, and I'd like to pass on that part of the publicity train, thank you very much."

"I think you would make an incredibly handsome boyfriend, but continue."

It was too easy to rile Grian up, Scar genuinely wondered if it was worth taunting him this early into their evening. It was cute, watching him try to gloss over Scar's attacks, deflecting with his own pointed silence. The game was fun, but half the joy was in the end result.

"Most importantly, rule number three." Grian set down his glass, purely for dramatic effect. "No falling in love with one another."

This one caught Scar off guard. He hoped Grian couldn't tell in his face, quickly clearing his throat to fix his soured expression. Right. Of course. This was transactional at best: Scar would receive Grian's company in the form of sex, meaningless hook ups between co-workers. At least, that's how Grian was presenting the idea.

Scar didn't want that. He wasn't after only the physical, as much of a nice bonus as it could be. He wanted to know Grian, really know him, reach the parts that the man kept hidden from the world and fall into his mind; Scar wanted all of Grian, not just the surface level.

Even so, he knew that for Grian, sex was so much more than surface level. It was a serious gesture of trust, and not one Scar was willing to betray. But that didn't mean Scar would give up his love so easy, and let himself be heartbroken in favor of physical intimacy.

Some way, some how, Scar would make a space for himself in Grian's heart. He owed it to himself to try, at the very least.

Scar grinned, and lifted his wine glass in toast. "Challenge accepted."

[smartzelda]

Lawlight for the bingo game ?

👀👀👀👀👀👀

Oooooh good choice

Also uh a warning for gore, dissection, etc being discussed a lil

Double bingo!!

I am insane about them

They have this insane visceral need to like to rip each other apart with their bare hands, with their teeth, anything to sate this extreme feeling, this curiosity, this want to see how they would react and be the only ones who could affect each other in this way. They are incredibly fun when they just devolve into physical violence in a space where neither of them can be implicated or stopped for it. And yet, in a sense they are obsessed with knowing everything about the other. Actually actually I have a better explaination. While they both have the urge (but like yin yang style. Light in the darkness. Darkness in the light), it's Light who is more driven to physically tear and maim and consume and hurt, while it's L who is more curious than anything. L wants to take him apart piece by piece, slowly and deliberately. While Light wants to make him scream and cry, L wants to see Light's perfect mask crack until it shatters. He wants to see just how much it takes, he wants him to crumble ever so slowly, and he wants to see just how he crumbles. He wants to pin him to the wall, study him under the microscope. He wants to pick apart his brain, carve him up and draw out his organs, and he wants Light to watch. Does this make sense? And yet when they are together, it all depends upon who starts it. If Light issues the challenge, L will rise to it. An eye for an eye. They'll fight physically, fighting to win, fighting to see who breaks first, who screams and gives in and lies at the feet of the other. Yet, if L issues the challenge, (for the record his approach can be both literal and more metaphorical) Light will match him in patience and cunning. The mind game is on and they will both play the long game, delighting in the prospect of the other breaking and crumbling slowly in their grasp. They play to win over the other, to grapple for dominance, and each will match the energy of the challenger (both out of instinct and respect). Perhaps what's most similar between both of these desires and approaches is the want to leave an ugly scar on the other. To forever leave their mark. One that proves that *they* were the winner, and that they have forever changed the other (in a way that can never be reversed). Do you get it?

Would either of them voluntarily get a therapist? No. Light would never admit he needs one, and even if you could get L to admit it would make him a better person, he would refuse. However, if they did end up with therapists for whatever reason, there is a good chance said therapist would be horrified. Even if one of them is fascinated by this situation, they would be likely to advise them to split up and desolve their special dependence on each other's existence opposing them.

Not gonna get to deep into this one, just because I don't feel good going off online about how I understand characters/ships better than everyone else too much. But...yes actually I do feel this way. While there are elements in people's essays/meta, comics, fanfic, etc that I will concede as good analysis or a good take, I personally don't find a lot of people who understand *both* of them. There are very few people I actually trust with certain characters, and even fewer people that I trust with multiples. But by god my brain is very very picky about them. It's just...they and their relationship is such a balancing game of complexities. Writing my own lawlight fic was a lot of grappling with that while writing. Now, part of my "no one gets them like I do" is because of the fandomization effect. There are a lot of people who have been in DN fandom longer than me, and a lot of people who have been obsessed with them for longer. But that tends to make characters/ships even more vulnerable to that type of fandomization where most people have either dumbed down the characters to a few easy traits to wrap their heads around, or veered so off track these characters are ocs. And a lot of these people in either situation also tend to become so disconnected from the source material that they genuinely believe their fandomized version of the character is canon. And there are plenty of times this is harmless (the opinion of a few doesn't often hold much sway), and there are other times where enough loud people believe something that it's almost accepted as a fandomwide *correct* interpretation of canon. Anyways, I digress. I think a lot more people get their relationship (especially some of us more deranged fandom members) than they do the individuals. And why I don't trust myself with L enough to make any statements like this, I do trust myself with Light enough to say that no one gets him like I do😂

Crossing this one and "they're going to die in each other's arms". Like I know it's canon that Light’s plan to kill L succeeded and L died in his arms, but GOD I just love the idea of them dying together, taking the other down with them, and dying in each other's arms, a strange sense of comfort, no matter how their relationship progresses/progressed. In canon, one of them has to win, but in fanon I love the constant battle and how poetic it is for them to die together (like that au of L's death I once read in fic form where Rem also writes Light's name before she becomes dust). Oh and the multiple different ways they can go about killing each other? Very fun.

I hope this is a given. They drive me absolutely wild. If you ask me questions about them you will be receiving an essay. Maybe one day I'll post all my DN wips and you will understand just how deranged this cast makes me

Yeah. Canon.

"They" isn’t directed at canon so much as at some of the fans. It is so much more fun when people get deranged about them (fits their vibes a bit better)

See my earlier explanation of the square "they're soooo". Also one thing I have come to enjoy slapping on fictional characters is this concept of wanting to possess someone so badly that you cannot tell if being them or consuming them or tearing them apart with your teeth or being inside them will satiate this *need* inside you

Kissing will not fix them. Having gay sex will not fix them. However, it becomes a new fun tool they can use against each other. Also I like it when kisses. Kisses for the win

I don't think I have to explain this one

The answer is they do deserve a domestic au, except 99% of people do not get how they would be in a domestic situation. Them being domestic and fluffy does not negate how they are to each other and the mind games

They are Yuri to me specifically because of how Light is post L's death. Like he misses him so bad it makes him look stupid. Light keeps on comparing others to him and wishing someone could challenge him the same. The longing? The grappling with the fact that he killed him and he can never have this back? The realization that no one else will compare? Oh and in some ways during Yotsuba arc

I'm sorry but this is canon to me. No matter what the adaptation they always meet, and it's generally tragic. But yes I believe in my soul they would find each other in any universe because...they're kindred spirits

Yeah🥺💖