#god I fucking love this man what the hell

[nellasbookplanet]

Here’s the thing:

I want Predathos to get out.

Not because I hate the gods or want to see them killed or driven off (in fact, I find the 'the gods are tyrants' arguments to be laughably incorrect and deeply hope c3 ends with the pantheon still present) but because ending the campaign without facing Predathos would be a huge anticlimax. If Bells Hells simply kill Ludinus and go back home, it will feel like killing the minion but never actually getting to the big bad. What if c1 had ended with killing the Briarwoods but never getting around to Vecna. What if the m9 had actually managed to kill Lucien with their trap in Aeor before he made it into the Astral Sea to set off his plan. We wouldn’t have gotten to see the nature of the somnovem, the horrific flesh city or the peace of putting it to rest, the wild creativity that was the final battle of imagination. If c3 ends without showing us what the fuck Predathos actually is I will go lie facedown on the floor for a week wondering what we missed out on.

Now, this doesn't mean I want the hells to purposefully let the beast out of its cage. I would prefer the campaign not end with the heroes finalizing the villain's plan and setting off calamity 2.0, thank you very much. But if Ludinus still has an ace up his sleeve that makes Predathos' release all but inevitable (which I honestly expect)? Maybe even if there’s a party split and one or a couple of the hells take the decision into their own hands (looking at you, Ashton)?

I'd love that shit. Show us what Predathos truly is. Let it eat Ludinus maybe. Give us a glimpse of the true end if it’s let loose on Exandria. Have there be a horrific realization of oh, this is what the Vanguard was arguing in favor of. And then kill it.

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

Imagine if ghosts reverted to their death state on the anniversary of their deaths, but I'm making it worse for Edwin in particular.

So I feel like Charles would struggle with it, obviously, but he also met Edwin when he was actively dying so, after a handful of years, he doesn't mind if Edwin -- only Edwin -- sees. They just sit down for the day and read till he can slip into his orb form in a facsimile of rest.

But then we got Edwin. This man will yap and yap about capital H Hell but God Forbid he actually TALK about his trauma. 'Charles mustn't be exposed to that!' is his fav excuse but c'mon. Be. So. Fr. He just doesn't want Charles to think of him differently.

There are days where Edwin hops off to the library or something and gets lost in books for days, it's not new. Ghosts have shit perception of time. So when Edwin disappears to the "library", Charles thinks nothing of it. He just goes to do some of his own shit -- concert, ghost cricket, idk -- and very impatiently waits for Edwin to be done. (They have a deal that he can come drag Edwin away after the 48 hour mark if he's not home by then.)

Another thing is, Edwin hasn't explicitly stated what day he died, so Charles has no idea. It doesn't occur to him that he's never seen Edwin's death anniversary till he's telling Crystal they'll be closed in a week for his, and she asks when Edwin's is.

And he just. Doesn't know.

So Crystal ushers him through her vanity because god forbid these boys have self initiated confrontation. And now Edwin is being cornered and he reluctantly reveals what he's been doing. Aka lying and spending his most vulnerable days in an abandoned garden or something. Charles is fucking Gobsmacked™️ and they talk, etc.

Anyways, Edwin's death anniversary is a month or two away from Charles' so they wait, both anxious as hell but Charles is being Charles and coping by helping Edwin instead.💀💀 (Edwin confronts him because PUT THEM BOTH ON BLAST‼️‼️🗣️🗣️)

On the day, Edwin's form changes little by little. Rubbed in rashes around his wrists and the corners of his lips, paler, sunken eyes, and bursted blood vessels looking like freckles. Charles spends the whole night reassuring Edwin and layering him in love and I'm such a sucker for love confessions so you KNOW they gotta have a moment like:

"I'm proper gone on you, aren't I?" Charles whispers into Edwin's hairline, sounding utterly smitten.

"Even like this?" Edwin asks. Equally quiet and wholly insecure, something Charles will spend the rest of his afterlife rectifying the same way Edwin has for him.

"Especially like this."

[sugawhaaa]

JEONGIN SMUT HEADCANONS

Sex with Jeongin would...

[Dom ver]

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, oral, fingering, BDSM, spit play, sweat fetish, auralism, probably more I forget 😭

Pairing:: dom!jeongin x sub!fem!reader

A/N:: I accidentally used the same photo twice but...Shh I'm too lazy to re-edit the thingy. Also the tiles for each section are a little vague, it's just for the vibes

Skz masterlist:: 🎀

🎧::

Feel like::

☆-Jeongin is a sucker for deep and fast sex...like listen Jeongin can be impatient as hell and he just needs to get in there yk what I mean?

☆-I can see him being a bit of a tease with this like when he first goes inside he waits like a few second before just putting in all of his pent up lust into pounding into you.

☆-Jeongin has been getting big asf lately and I can see him kinda having a size kink, ofc in the sense that he's bigger than you, so doing things like lifting you by your hips or guiding your body by the waist is totally his thing.

☆-Messy kisses with a fuck ton of tongue while fucking you 😫

☆-he likes to put his hands around your face and neck area. Not deliberately choking but just asserting his control, you know? Also making a mess of your spit, dipping his fingers into your mouth and making you suck on them.

☆-some spanking every now and then ^^

☆-He loves to roam his hands all over your body, your tits, thighs, ass, tummy, back, wherever he has access to his hands are gently massaging.

☆-hes so gentle when taking your clothes off ggrrr but once in a blue moon he doesn't give a fuck, he needs you naked right fucking now.

☆-You'll find his fingers in your hair quite often. Sometimes it's to pull your head back and add just a twinge of pain or other times it's just to ground himself and pull your head closer to kiss you deeper.

☆-his fingers are so long and feel perfect against or in your body. He'd use this kind of method where he sorts through your folds with his fingers by gently gliding his finger down the seam of your pussy.

☆-his fingers also hit very deep inside you to the point he has to curl his fingers so he doesn't hurt you <3

☆-hes not very into anal or anything but he would like to put a vibrator in one of the two holes and then fuck the other 😩🤌

Sound like::

☆-this man loves dirty talk so much that he is just rambling and rambling the entire time in between moans and cries. He'd say all kinds of kinky things you wouldn't imagine him to say but...he does have a freaky side.

☆-"I love it when you make that pretty face" "stick your tongue out," "awh is my baby crying?" "Shh, it's okay, you can cum soon,"

☆-He really likes hearing the sounds of your bodies colliding in anyway, the sound of your tongues dancing, the bed creaking, his hips slapping against your ass, his tongue sorting through your folds, and the sounds you make when you suck him off 😩

☆-sometimes he'll play music in the background to set the mood as well, something lofi and more relaxing than sexual unless, of course, it's one of those real freaky nights.

☆-wet noises <3 when he fingers your wet pussy so deep and he can hear your arousal sorting through his fingers.

☆-hearing your moans is his favorite thing ever, he does anything and everything to make you moan louder and higher pitched.

☆-as I mentioned earlier he is a deep and fast kinda guy so you best believe the bedframe is often begging for mercy 😁 (imagine the headboard hitting against the wall all night while the members are just trying to sleep)

☆-whispering dirty words to you <3

☆-he curses a lot during sex, though he kind of feels bad about it. He wants to keep it romantic and passionate but when your walls hug him so tightly and your nails are digging into his back he can't hold back.

☆-"Oh fuck baby," "shit I'm close!" "God damn baby, you suck me so fucking good,"

☆-I can see Jeongin making a mix of noises between grunts, moans, growls, and so on, you get the point. He's very vocal though, loud and passionate, he doesn't hold back a thing.

☆-he isn't too into daddy type tropes but he does love calling you all kinds of things that make you feel small, like babygirl, darling, princess, etc. However he is into calling you mommy 👀 but that's for the next part

☆-basically to sum up this section, sex with Jeongin is loud and he loves embracing that fact.

Look like::

☆-hear me out...sweaty sex. I feel like he'd sweat quite easily when pounding you, sweat building along his hairline and down that sharp ass jawline 😩

☆-Sometimes I feel like people forget how sexy his body is, his thin waist that perfectly tapers to his sturdy hips and thick thighs, like come on.

☆-Most of the time you'll see Jeongin on top of you in the dark. The only light source being the night sky as he looms over you, his broad chest covering your body as his knees trap you between him 🥴

☆-backshots...also cumming onto your tummy as well 🤌 he does really like creampies but he loves messy sex even more. Usually in one session he'll cum outside and inside of you at least once each. A good balance.

☆-he loves loves loves making you squirt. That sexy face you make every time, the way your body moves on its own, the way you moan, it's everything to him and best of all, the mess you make, all for him.

☆-this may sound weird but I can see him smiling a fair bit during sex. After very explosive orgasms or when it just feels so good he has to smile with a little chuckle.

☆-bro would love shower sex, I firmly believe this, so seeing him all wet is a common occurrence during sex. His hair clinging to his face as water drops down his face and chest before pressing you against the wall to fuck you all over again.

Taste like::

☆-this man eats pussy so good, have you seen his tongue work on stage? He knows how to make a woman cum 5 times over in one sitting.

☆-I can see him being really sloppy when he eats you out, his saliva dripping down on his chin and all over your pussy.

☆-oral for him can be whatever really. Sometimes it's slow an sensual or romantic and sometimes it's more...erotic

☆-he loves hearing the sounds of his cock wedging down your throat though 😩 and he likes when you let him cum on your face or make cum bubbles etc, be messy.

☆-eating you out from behind >>> he'd get you to go on all fours and he'd come up behind you to make out with your cunt.

☆-he loves spreading your folds, thighs, or ass when eating you out, he needs to get right up in there.

☆-he's the type of guy to not finger when he eats you out, he doesn't need his fingers to make you cum, only his sweet tongue and lips.

[leftoverghosts]

the weight of it all

divorcelawyer!patrick zweig x divorcelawyer!wife!user

or, patrick teases you with a paperweight. nsfw teasing under the cut.

PLAY MY XMAS GAME AND REQUEST A BOT/BLURB HERE!

"I can’t believe you thought that was okay—what the hell were you thinking?" Patrick snarled.

Your heart raced as Patrick pressed against you, his rage palpable, as he stood between your spread thighs. You'd been arguing in circles, when he'd hoisted you onto the desk unceremoniously. "I was trying to do what's best for our client," you shot back, meeting his furious gaze. "Art deserves a fair settlement."

"Fair?" Patrick scoffed, his hot breath on your face. "You call handing over half his assets to that gold-digging bitch fair?" He slammed his fist on the desk, rattling the glass paperweight behind you. You glared at him, not appreciating how he referred to Tashi.

“Fuck you. Taking on this case was a conflict interest anyway.” You stood your ground, staring down your husband as if he were the most foolish man on Earth. The Donaldson's divorce was in danger of causing your own, and you had spent countless hours trying to untangle their messy assets.

Between this case and all the others, you and Patrick barely had time for anything other than work - let alone to release any of the pent up aggression building inside both of you due to lack of intimacy. You weren't nice when you were horny, and neither was he. "If you'd just listen to reason, you God damn moron-"

With a snarl, Patrick grabbed the heavy crystal paperweight and shoved it roughly between your legs. You gasped as the cold glass pressed against your most sensitive area through your panties. He moved it in slow, deliberate circles, glaring at you with a mix of anger and dark lust.

"Is this what you want?" he hissed. "You uptight cunt. You need to loosen up. You’re driving me crazy."

A moan escaped your lips as the smooth paperweight rubbed against your clit through the thin fabric. You were appalled at his crude actions but your body betrayed you, automatically grinding against the hard glass.

Patrick watched your face with grim satisfaction as he continued to torment you with the makeshift toy under your skirt. "Not so high and mighty now, are you?" he taunted. “Who’s a moron, baby?”

You hated how your body responded to Patrick's aggressive touch, but you couldn't deny the electric sparks of pleasure racing through you. The glass was unyielding against your sensitive flesh, stroking you in just the right way.

"Stop..." you whimpered, but your hips bucked traitorously against the object. Your panties were drenched, desire coiling hot and tight in your core.

Patrick leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he spoke in a dark, honeyed voice. "You need this. Need to be put in your place." He increased the pressure and speed of the paperweight, the glass growing slick with your arousal.

A cry tore from your throat as the blunt tip found your aching entrance through the soaked fabric. Patrick nudged it rhythmically against your opening, teasing penetration. You clutched his shoulders, head thrown back, panting as he worked you into a frenzy.

"Beg me for it," Patrick commanded gruffly. "Beg me to fuck your bratty little cunt." He licked and nipped at your neck, marking you as his.

"Please..." you whined desperately. This was so wrong, so unprofessional. But the taboo of it all only heightened your arousal. Your hips rocked shamelessly as Patrick worked the paperweight faster.

"Fuck, look at you," he sneered. "You love this, don't you? Such a dirty little slut behind that prissy act. It’s not even inside you."

His filthy words sent you over the edge. You came hard, shuddering and muffling a cry against his shoulder as your cunt clenched around nothing. Patrick held the paperweight firmly against you, drawing out your climax until you stopped mewling.

Panting, you sagged against the desk, thoroughly debased. He set the paperweight down with a clink and straightened his tie, a smug look on his face.

"Now then," he said coolly, as if nothing had happened. "Let's discuss the settlement terms again, shall we? And this time, I expect you to see things my way."

Cheeks burning with humiliation and fading pleasure, you had no choice but to meekly nod. Patrick had won this battle. And you hated how much you'd enjoyed it.

[auroracalisto]

day #22: "i'll be home for christmas"

tangerine x gn!reader, 1k words a/n: i mention that you like cheese ball and when i say that, i mean this thing (this thing also says msg but i think the recipe we use has something else... idk). i hope it's not just a southern west virginia thing. it's my favorite thing at holidays. i know it looks freaky and child me used to REFUSE but these and tollhouse butter crackers... cheese ball hates to see me comin', y'all. also, did you know that "i'll be home for christmas" was initially written in regards to soldiers overseas who wouldn't be home to celebrate christmas with their loved ones? crazyy.

I'll be home for Christmas You can plan on me Please have snow and mistletoe And presents on the tree Christmas Eve'll find me Where the love light gleams I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams

Before you, he never truly cared for Christmas, or any holiday for that matter. It just didn't strike him as anything special. But then he met you, and it was like something within him changed. You seemed so... excited for simple things like gifts and merry-making, and by God, he'd make sure he'd make you the happiest person in the world if he could help it.

But work was work. He couldn't just avoid it, and he especially couldn't turn down suck an incredible paycheck. Hell, this job may have been difficult, but who the hell would've thought it would have lasted this long?

Typically, his jobs lasted a few days. Maybe a week or two, tops. This one was going on three weeks, and nearing Christmas. It was as if whoever this damned man had wanted him to miss Christmas—wanted him to miss the morning lying in bed with you, kissing you, making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

He didn't often hate his job, but right now? He wished he would have some cozy office job where he'd be home no matter what. Every holiday, he'd be by your side, decorating and drinking and participating in whatever merry making you wanted. Damn, he'd even try baking cookies and creating that weird cheese ball thing you'd mentioned from your childhood. It looked more like a thing that could grow legs and walk away, but he'd give anything just to be home with you. To be with you instead of sitting here growing restless with his brother grumbling on about how he wished he was home as well—not that he could blame him.

Tangerine patted his thigh with his hand and reached for his phone. He dialed your number, a frown on his lips. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed, knowing that he wouldn't be home. There'd be no way, regardless of how much he wanted to be. But he'd lie. A little white lie never hurt anyone, right?

"Hey, love," he said as soon as the receiver picked up.

"Hi, Tan," he heard your voice come through.

He smiled a bit to himself. "You, uh, doin' alright?" he asked. "Takin' care of yourself, yeah?"

Lemon glanced over at him, raising a curious eyebrow. Tangerine just waved him off with a pursed lip."

"Yeah," you said. "Tan, how's the job coming? Are you almost done?"

Your voice is soft on the receiver—must be poor service from his end.

"I miss you."

The words strike him silent for a moment. He sighed softly and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know you do, love," he said. "I'm sorry. I'll be home soon, I promise."

"How soon?" you asked.

"I'm aimin' for Christmas Eve," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. He could hear Lemon protesting the little lie, but Tangerine simply waved him off and then proceeded to flip him off.

"Christmas Eve. You don't sound too sure," you replied.

He breathed through his nose and closed his eyes. Why were you always so good at seeing through his words? It was almost like you were a psychic. Either that or Lemon was fucking texting you that he was lying.

Tangerine cursed at his brother, throwing one of the hard hotel pillows at his face. It hit him and Lemon let out a shout in protest.

"Tangerine," you said, his code name drawing his attention back to the phone.

"Right. Sorry, love. I, uh, it's not lookin' too good, sweetheart. I'm going to try and make it back as soon as I can, but I can't make any promises right now."

"Really?" you sadly said.

"Yeah, really," he said. "You know, maybe I can dream about being home for the holidays."

You scoffed softly. "What, like the Bing Crosby song?"

"What song?" he asked.

"Um," you paused. "'I'll Be Home for Christmas.'"

"Bing Crosby?"

"The singer, you dipshit," Lemon quipped from his side of the hotel room.

Tangerine rolled his eyes. "How's it go, love? Remind me."

"I'm not singing it to you," you said, "but I'll send it to you."

He snorted softly. "Yeah, you do that," he said.

Tangerine glanced toward the clock on the wall—it was nearly two in the morning. He sighed softly. He knew you were a couple hours behind him, so he wasn't keeping you awake, but he knew you still needed to go. You had a life beyond him (or at least, he hoped you did—jokes, jokes).

"Look, love, if things change, I'll be the first to message you," he said.

You sighed softly on the phone. "Do that," you said. "I miss you, Tan."

"I miss you more, love. Honest."

"I know," you said. "Just... be safe. Come home soon. We can always celebrate when you get back."

His brows furrowed. "How would we celebrate Christmas after the holiday?"

You snorted softly. "I don't think Christmas is just a day," you said. "I feel like as long as you have the people you want to celebrate with, it can be a holiday. The number doesn't truly matter."

He hummed softly at your words. "Want to invite Lemon?"

"If you want Lemon, sure."

He grinned. "Sounds like a plan, love. I'll save a day of Christmas just for you, though."

You scoffed over the phone, but he just knew you were smiling.

"I love you," Tangerine softly said. He knew Lemon heard it, and he'd say something later, but all he wanted was for you to say it back.

Perhaps it was his only wish of the night as he heard the words "I love you" over the phone, and a wish for him to have a good night.

When you hung up, he dropped his phone and looked toward Lemon.

"If we don't finish this fuckin' job in the next two days, someone is gonna bloody die, and it isn't me."

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Stop bein' so fuckin' dramatic. We'll finish the job and you can be back home playing house with your little beau."

Tangerine grumbled under his breath and laid back in his hotel bed, looking up at the popcorn ceiling.

"Damn. Remind me in the future to take all of December off."

Lemon raised an eyebrow. "You plan on taking all of December off just for a holiday?"

"Nah, mate, not just a holiday. For them."

[weapon-xox]

Anything Wade could have said would be an understatement when it came to how much Logan fucking loved the snow.

Like the sweetest little puppy Wade has ever seen, next to Mary of course, the Wolverine would run up to the window, chirping at the snowflakes, clawing at the glass in a feeble attempt to play.

How could Wade deny him? He couldn't, simply wouldn't, because that would be cruel and in Wades eyes, means for a nosey neighbour (or a blind roommate) to call animal control for Logans own protection with how fucking loud he whined up at the Merc.

Eyes wide and wet, the saddest pout on the plumpest of lips, it was rare for Logan to be so vulnerable and atuned to his inner animal. But on soft days like these where the pair could be lazy, not a care in the whole entire world, with the snow falling light but landing heavy on the ground, Logan seemed to mellow out.

Wades working theory was that the snow reminded him of the harsh winters of Canada, where he'd stand in a storm and howl for hours and never get cold. Maybe he missed the freedom, to play and pounce, to just let go.

He'd think back to warm summer days, too, where Logan would take his shirt off and lay on the floor where a warm beam of sunlight shone in, much like a cat he would soak up the sun, Wade would try hard not to squeal and squirm when he'd hear the man purr.

Now, Logan was sat on his knees between Wades legs, metal joints nestled into a pillow on the floor and his scruffy cheek pressed to Wades thigh, while strong fingers cradled his ankles and Logan sighed sadly.

"What's the matter, Peanut? Thinking about that barren waste land of hell frozen over you called home?"

Logan huffed from his nose. Wade scratched behind his ear.

"You wanna... Play? Huh?"

Logans ears fucking twitched, Wade was sure, and he looked up curiously with a tilt of his head.

"That it? You wanna play, boy? Wanna jump around in the sno-" Before Wade could finish Logan was up, boots on and laced, the new winter coat Wade had bought him on and zipped up. He looks so cute, Wade thought to himself, because Logan would probably argue-

"I ain't cute, bub. Let's go."

Did he say that outloud?

"Yes," Logan growled.

"Did I say that outloud?" Wade asked, and the Wolverine couldn't help but smile, small and barely there, but it was there, and Wade saw it and it was glorious.

"Gosh, everytime a Wolverine smiles, an angel dies. Or however the saying goes." Wade droned, on and on, Logan growing impatient, huffing and tugging at Wades arm to just get him to come on already while Deadpool took his time putting on his coat and shoes.

Wade gave Mary a treat, yelled a "goodbye bitch!" to Al, grabbed his keys and let Logan drag him outside.

They walked to the park, no one was there. Wade could hear Logan sigh in relief, watched him shrug off his coat and shoes. He furrowed his non-brows and mock scowled with his hands on his hips, said "you're gonna catch a cold!", and when Logan honest to god laughed Wade nearly threw up his heart.

Logan dropped his coat, shook his head when his soft hair had a little too much snow pile up, and slowly backed up, predatory, baring his teeth at Wade while getting down to his haunches and in position, hairy toes burrowed in the snow.

Wade grinned in return, rolled his neck, and opened his arms wide. If Logan wanted to play, he'd play.

"Come and get me, Peanut. Paint the snow red with our love."

The Wolverine snarled, pounced and drove his claws into Wade, who in turn laughed and shoved him off easily. While Logan was distracted, biting at the air to try and eat each snowflake, Wade tickled his sides and Logan crumbled, falling into the snow where he was wrestled with and roughed up.

He looked so happy, all happy growls and playful nips, fingers sinking into the snow for a firm grip but faceplanting when the snow turned out to be too soft for any real leverage.

They stayed outside for hours, Wade tapping out when he got to cold and just wanted to watch Logan play. The Wolverine, ever the gentleman he was, set his coat down on a bench for Wade to sit on. The snow soaked through fast, the jacket already damp from Logans carelessness, and Wades ass was now wet, but it was so worth it to watch his boy play, smile, have fun.

The Merc let him play for hours, face half buried now in his scarf, hugging himself for warmth because his personal space heater was rolling around in the snow, his clothes were soaked, and while the Wolverine didn't seem to bothered Wade figured soaking wet jeans just couldn't be comfortable.

He whistled, got Logans attention who perked right up and bounded over to Wade, shaking his head like an overexcited puppy, the water and flakes from his hair smacking Wade in the face. He just smiled, wide and bright.

"There's my pretty boy. Did you have fun in the snow, Kujo? I know, a little less blood shed and murder than you would've liked, but you really showed those snowflakes whose boss!"

They head back home, Logan shed his clothes at the door. Wade admired Canadas ass, whistled, and followed the feral turned domestic into the bathroom.

They showered, warm and comfortable, Wade washing Logans hair while the other washed Wades body. They got out, put on their comfiest pj's consisting of plaid pants with no shirt, and Wade wearing one of his longest, softest sweaters, nothing underneath because the bottom of the sweater made it halfway down his plush thighs and covered just enough to keep Logan guessing.

Logan growled, hands on Wades rear, and pulled him into his lap where the Merc yawned and sighed with content, cheek pressed against a forest of hair, the rythmatic thumping of what Wade would call a heart beating from behind the bushes.

Mary hopped up, did a little spin, then flopped and pressed herself up against Logans thigh, a hand on her belly that made her tongue lull out of her mouth. Wade looked awful similar, the same blissed out look on his face.

"That was... Fun," Logan muttered, eyes half closed in sleep. Wade looked up at him, felt his stomach clench with the aggression he felt for Logans sweetness, and pressed a hand to his cheek. Logan leaned into the touch.

"I know, baby. We can go out and play again tomorrow, deal?"

Logan smiled, closed his eyes, and sunk further into the couch with a gentle hum and a quiet "mhm..."

Wade fell asleep, dreaming about their day, and all the new ways he could get Logan to smile again.

Playing in the snow was just the start.

[lizzy019]

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝑀𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓃.

Dallas Winston x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 3K

cw -> BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPE, lots of cursing from dally >:(, movie Dally (not book Dally), kinda ooc but eh, mentions of wet dreams (for plot mwahaha), dirty talk from Dal, eepy reader, side fucking, ooo he falls asleep with his dick inside, lazy ending :C

Don’tcha just love him? I do :DDD It's so lazily done, I'm so sorry but pls do enjoy!

The hollering was loud as you rushed out of your home with just a backpack of belongings.

You hadn’t expected a fight to go this far. Yes, your parents weren’t the nicest, but kicked out until you “mature up”? You had never experienced this, nor were you ready to take a walk of shame over to Dally’s place for the evening.

You and Dally were practically siblings with how well you two knew each other. Bonded at the hips since you were both little, and it never changed. You had grown accustomed to his way of expressing friendship, through playful attacks and sharing of belongings. 

Dally may have been a bit tough when expressing his affections towards the people he cared for, but he still cared regardless. He believed tough love was the way to go.

The walk was pitiful, your feet were almost scraping the ground out of genuine disbelief. Thank God it was sunset, you still had some sunlight left to get you to Buck’s place so you could find Dally. Maybe he wouldn’t mind you staying over, a hangout, as he called it.

In just a throw sweatshirt and joggers, you hustled along the sidewalks to get to your destination a bit faster. The cool evening breeze wasn’t pleasant, but it kept you awake and kept you pacing.

The light of Buck’s building had finally come into view after you had walked a few more blocks, and the loud boisterous music hit your ears not long after the lights hit your eyes. You were relieved you had made it before the sun had fully gone down, heaven forbid men would know how to keep anything in their pants.

Scampering up to the front door took enough courage out of you, a lady like you in a wretched neighbourhood like this wasn’t fitting at all. But you were desperate, you were in need and Dally was your only go-to. Well, you could’ve gone to the Curtis’ household, but it was a bit more uncomfortable there because you knew less people.

Knocking with cold and clammy hands against the old door, you hesitantly awaited the arrival of Buck or someone else who heard your knock. Luckily the wait wasn’t long, after a few mere seconds the door was opened. A drunk man, not at all Buck, gave you the snarkiest expression you’ve ever witnessed and let you in. Graciously, you hurried inside.

The bustling people bothered you, especially so when you could see two people literally doing it on a pool table. Disgusting, you thought as you rushed through the swarms of chattering and dancing folk to the stairs that led to Dally’s apartment.

Shoes clomping against the wooden floorboards of the stairs, you found yourself questioning what his apartment room was. Was it the one on the left? No, it was the one on the right. Right? You flipped through your memories like files, and confirmed that it was on the left. Silly you. But you were still polite, knocking on the door quietly.

The door had swung open, and you were met with a waft of cheap tobacco and a wet Dally. Oh, he’d just gotten out of the shower. What a surprise, you thought he never showered.

“The fuck are you doin’ here? Why didn’t you call me? It’s fuckin’ dark outside, you dipshit.” He berated you even if it had no meaning, ushering you into his apartment and closing the door behind him.

His body glistened with water droplets that were scattered all along his shoulders and back, even his chest as the droplets were caught by the towel seated at his hips. Jesus, a sculpted body too. Wait, why the hell were you staring? That was too inappropriate! You mentally chastised yourself while kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag to the unswept floor.

The weight of the fact that your parents had actually kicked you out started to sink in, and the way your shoulders sank wasn’t really that hard to spot when Dally looked at you. Something was wrong if you had brought a bag and a saddened expression over to his place.

“The fuck happened? You good, or is somethin’ buggin’ ya?” He asked you, gesturing vaguely for you to sit on his aged mattress. You listened, of course you would, and sat consciously on his bed. He really didn’t mind changing in front of you, he just made sure his back was facing you so you didn’t see... the parts where the sun doesn’t shine. 

“Parents kicked me out, didn’t wanna go to Johnny’s or Darry’s...” You mumbled under your breath, holding in your breath as you looked at the floor to give him some privacy. After all, he was kind enough to let you into his place.

Dally gave a hum of acknowledgement, which may have been seen as rude, but it was really just him thinking. Going over to Johnny’s place didn’t make sense considering the fact that his parents were a bit too bitchy and cruel around people, and Darry wasn’t exactly fond of people sleeping over at his house. Sure, people staying for a while was more than welcome, but everyone knew that Darry was strict about sleepovers. 

“You’re such an idiot. What did you even do to get kicked out? Your parents are the chillest compared to all of ours.” Dally huffed, pulling on his joggers and drying his dark chocolate hair lazily with his towel.

“Dunno, they just said I had to leave until I “mature up” or somethin’.” You grumbled a bit angrily, not directed at him obviously, you were just confused and frustrated at your parents.

Dally nodded, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray and plopping his body beside you, smiling a bit as if to reassure you.

“Ah, whatever. You don’t need your parents when you got me, yeah? Now, what clothes did you bring? I doubt sleeping in tights is gonna be comfy.. especially considering how much you roll around.” He teased, knowing you needed at least a bit of humour to boost your mood.

And it worked. You smiled a bit, lightly punching his chest out of playful irritation from his comment. But you really couldn’t deny it, you could be a very active sleeper when you were stressed or angry. Frustration and sleep just didn’t mix for you.

“I brought some pajamas just in case, should I change now? It’s only 8.” You chuckled as he winced dramatically at your punch. Pfft, like you actually did him damage.

“Well, I’m tired now. So either you change and we can take a nap, or you can deal with me complaining about not sleeping until you decide to sleep.” Dally huffed, looking at you with a sleepy expression.

The words he spoke were about the only serene thing you’d heard all evening. No yelling, no obnoxious cars, just faint party music and Dally’s dulcet yet gruff voice. It was odd how comforting something as silly as that could be.

“Ugh, fine, you’re no fun.” You stuck your tongue out at him, earning you a playful slap to your arm as you hurried off of his bed to get your bag.

The bag sat limply against the wall near the door of his apartment, and you opened it swiftly to find your pajamas, but quite literally let your facial expression drop to utter disbelief. No, you surely hadn’t forgotten something as important as your night shirt! You scavenged disdainfully through the mess of stuffed clothes and beauty supplies in your bag in hopes of finding the shirt you thought you’d packed, but ended up looking at Dally with a sorrowful expression.

Dally looked at you with eyes displaying annoyed confusion, but seeing that little mopey frown on your face told him all he needed to know. You either forgot something, or remembered something important.

“What is it?” He questioned instinctively, looking at you through half lidded eyes as he propped himself up with one arm.

“I forgot a night shirt.. you think I could borrow one for t’night? Promise I’ll give it back.” You muttered, a bit embarrassed by your carelessness and forgetfulness. But nonetheless Dally chuckled a bit and nodded.

“Fuckin’ idiot. Yeah, the closet should have a few shirts. Don’t touch my leather.” He huffed, flopping onto his back and letting himself soak up some much needed rest.

You nodded and headed over to the closet, feet softly hitting the floor as you found his small closet. Already ajar thanks to his laziness, you searched through the hung clothes and stumbled upon a relatively clean looking shirt. A white one, not a stain on it either.

Taking your only pair of night shorts and the shirt you gratefully borrowed from Dally into his bathroom to change, you found yourself eyeing the soft fabric with gentle intent. Dally was kind enough to let you borrow something of his...

You pushed that thought down, instead focusing on getting out of the uncomfortable clothes you wore to look decent on the sidewalks. Taking off your pants to replace them with your night shorts, and taking off your top and bra to cover up with Dally’s shirt. It smelled like him, and it smelled strangely nice.

You took your leftover clothes out with you, chucking them mindlessly near your bag somewhere on the floor near the bed before plopping down dramatically beside him. The weight of you on the bed made it sink, and Dally was a bit startled out of his sleep when you did so.

Dally looked at you with a stink expression, but it was all playful.

“Good, now hush so I can sleep.” He muttered, throwing the blanket over the top of you two and sighing contentedly.

You just smiled and nodded, lying comfortably on your back to sleep just because you felt a little stiff in his mattress. But it was comfortable in all honesty, being warm and close to someone so close to you.

You were slowly jostled out of your sleep by a hand shaking at your shoulder. While you didn’t really want to move from out of your spot since you were oh so comfy under the warm sheets, the vigour in the shaking of your shoulder didn’t cease.

So begrudgingly, you gave a hum of acknowledgement to show that you were at least somewhat awake, and Dally’s voice was all you heard for a moment.

“Sweetheart, please... had a dream ‘bout you. Got me fuckin’ hard as shit. I’m askin’ nice.” Dally murmured, voice gruff and scratchy from the lack of use as he slept. You were almost awake, the mention of him having a dream about you didn’t spur much of a reaction from you.

“Mmh.. ‘m tired, Dal. Go to bed.” You huffed, rolling from your back to your side, back facing his front as you smushed your cheek into the pillow. 

But your words didn’t really help him, nor did it encourage him to stop. In a way, you turning to your side was meant to tease him. To egg him forward and see what he’d do. Dally wasn’t stupid, he knew you well enough to know a trick or two of yours would always come after a chastise.

So Dally’s hand came to softly hold your waist, caressing the skin as the shirt you borrowed from him rode up a little. Goddamn, those little bottoms you wore showing just the tiniest bit of your asscheek, the flesh threatening to drive him mad. How could you look so precious without even trying?

“Oh sweetheart.. you’re so perfect, so pretty. God, lemme take ‘em offa ya. Please? I’m askin’ nice.” Dally almost begged you, almost pleaded. While you didn’t expect him to ask so kindly, he was just doing it so you didn’t make him repeat himself. He was a smart man, thinking ahead the way he did. 

So you nodded, still happily sprawled on the mattress without a care in the world. And your nod was all it took for Dally’s hands to scoop under the elastic waistband of your sleepwear, and yank it down to your knees while pulling your underwear with it. The sudden coolness of his frigid fingers had you waking up a bit more, giving you some alertness as his hands freely squished the globes of your rear.

“Never knew under all the clothes, you’d look so pretty. Fuckin’ shit, you’re doin’ things to me that I don’t like.” A lie. Dally was happy diving into the feelings of admiration and want, the lustful desire to have your body, but also the soft blooming of love and adoration that even led him to this point.

“Mmh.. like what you see, Dal?” You questioned him teasingly, giggling sleepily.

“That’s a stupid question. ‘Course I do, now scoot closer. Too goddamn far away from me to do shit.” He grumbled a bit, moving his hand from your asscheek to slip between your legs and right next to your aching core.

You weren’t necessarily wet, you were tired and obviously weren’t in the right mood for this, but Dally was determined to make you feel good somehow. So his fingers gently spread your labia, and his index finger started twirling excitedly around the soft bud of your clit.

A soft sigh of contentment escaped you as his hand worked its magic on you. Now, you knew very well that Dally was an adventurous guy. Lots of his nights were spent with flings, or at the bars touching on the ladies that threw themselves onto him. Of course he would have experience, much more than you anyway. But how would he even feel if you told him you’d never done it? Would he reconsider?

But Dally was gentle with you, smoothing over your clit in repetitive circles as if trying to dizzy your clit. And it worked, really. Your hips, probably tired and sore, were meeting the soft ruts of his hand, enjoying how soft and sensual his movements were.

He was treating you like porcelain. 

“Feelin’ alright, sweetheart? Got my fingers soaked, think she’s gonna let me in yet?” He murmured exasperatedly into your ear, the warm air making your skin tingle with delight.

You smiled, eyes lazily fluttering open as you turned your head over to look at him a bit. How cute, pink cheeks and puffy lips paired with desperate eyes and furrowed brows. How could someone look so cute when they were so focused?

You giggled a bit when he called your pussy a she, but you nodded slowly.

“But Dal.. this is my first time. Y’sure you wanna take it?” You asked so softly, so serenely as you laid wrapped in his arms.

So soft, so gorgeous. Dally never felt such a tender feeling before.

Without any hesitation, Dally nodded his head vigorously and smiled a bit. The sweet crinkles of his eyes make you smile too.

“Alright then, just be careful, yeah? I trust you..” You mumbled, letting him take his hand away from in between your legs.

He moved his arm to wrap around you, lazily inserting his fingers into your mouth as if silently telling you to clean the mess you made while his other hand arranged his cock with your pretty pussy. He was just mere millimeters away from claiming you as his, forever staining your pussy as used.

But when you gently bumped your hips to his, like a silent way of urging him to continue, he did so. His tip was slowly guided to your perfect cunt, the warmth of its inviting juices nearly having him in a chokehold. And in one small rut, the tip of his hot and heavy cock was plunged into your precious cunt, innocence stripped from it as you made the softest croon around his fingers.

It wasn’t long until Dally started to rut his hips against yours, flesh clashing against flesh to make the unholiest clapping sounds. Thank the heavens he thought to put his fingers in your mouth, an inexperienced and lovely thing like you was sure to make a bit too much noise.

But Dally was gentle as he banged out the first round with you.

Muffled moans and groans from the both of you filled the small apartment, and the scent of sex was pungent as your hand found Dally’s forearm. Nails digging into the soft flesh as the nerves in between your legs started to burn, a hot and searing sizzle that had your already tired brain going bonkers.

“Dal- Dal..” You muttered, muffled cries of his name being silenced by the fingers plugging your mouth. How were you supposed to tell him it felt weird? 

Maybe it was just overstimulation, but your legs were shaky, your abdomen felt tight, and your head was growing fuzzy. Not at all in an unpleasurable way, you were having the time of your life. But, it was a little discomforting from how overwhelming it was considering how you had just had your first proper climax given to you.

But Dally didn’t stop, no. He was too far gone in the flutters of your cunny’s walls, too engulfed in the pleasure of hearing your sounds and feeling your body pressed right up against his. You were so precious, so perfect. How could he not just let himself mould into you?

And sure enough, the overstimulation left your poor cunt reaching another peak, legs beginning to twitch as you simmered down. Thankfully, Dally seemed to be done too, as he ceased his movements and just held you tight.

You bathed in the afterglow of such an intimate moment, letting Dally’s body heat soak into you as you both rested contentedly.

There’d just be a hell of a mess, a noise complaint, and a lot of explaining to do awaiting you two.

[macknshift]

THE ONE WHERE . . . I INTRODUCE Y'ALL TO LEO!

SOOOO…i have mentioned leo in like, 90 different posts atp and never actually made a "leo intro" (mainly bc i have weird feelings ab sharing him heavily to the rest of the world lol) but! i figured now would be the best time to get into explaining him to y'all.

LEO , commonly given the last name SCOTT (depends on the dr!) is actually originally the main character's love interest in a hockey romance book i've been in the process of writing. after getting #sickandtired of annoying ass book men i gave up and began drafting one of my own. the main character is literally me (i mean, for christ's sake her name is sloane mackintosh,) and eventually, i began thinking of him in other "au"s (i used to do this a lot on wattpad - i mean DRs but the term AU is usually more digestible to ppl that may not be aware of reality shifting. Anyways.) and began kind of placing him in everything. a list of the drs he is my love interest in is follows;

BETTER CR : (fc silasj2004*) the hockey romance book pretty much as a dr. small changes occur but basically he's the exact same as leo in the book lol

PARENT DR : (fc jack schlossberg. yes. i am one of those girlies. i am not ashamed! at least he has morals + a backbone y'all this could be much worse) the "backstory" is my better cr dr. i'm now a mother of 3 (amelia or mimi, aged 5, giselle or gigi, aged 4 and i'm pregnant with vincenzo, our final kid,) and it follows our life after what would be the events of the book. i sort-of made it also as like a WAG dr in a sense bc leo is a professional hockey player! (but he retires 2 years before this point in time so idk where my thought process is w this lol)

FORMULA 1 DRIVER DR : (fc pato o'ward MY!!!! mclaren man ln4 U ARE NOTHINGGGGGGG) leonardo dempsey, son of actor patrick dempsey (my forever celebrity crush ugh he's so fine) and driver for aston martin aramco f1 team under #99. i essentially took l*nce str*ll's daddy's boy backstory and gave it to leo bc he is indeed a daddy's boy. the only dr leo and i are enemies to lovers bc i'm too obsessed w him otherwise LMFAO

MARVEL DR : (fc marcello hernandez (MY MAAANNNN)) leo scott, secretly the speedster superhero 'comet'. hired by my dad as essentially a bodyguard (leo's not intimidating AT ALL idek how the hell this is supposed to work LMFAO) as comet and knows me out of costume as his sister's roommate (mj is also in every dr ever and actually is here in this cr. i can never leave her out i love her DOWN) basically marichat vibes (god i miss marichat)

POP STAR DR : (fc marcello hernandez, again) leo sinatra, nepo baby great-grandson of frank sinatra (there's a whole, incredibly large bit of lore ab this LMFAO + he's also a great-grandson in my better cr dr too bc i need my man RICH!) and Saturday Night Live cast member. basically i go on snl and immediately fall in love. i've stolen the 'unlikely couple' weekend update sketch for us & he does domingo, which is my song lol we're funny for it idk

THE FCS, in color photos:

i'm missing like, 18 other drs that i can think of but some important info about him;

he's half oaxacan mexican. i've tried my damnedness to find a way to make it obvious but when i was 'designing' him (aka drawing him out) i used jack, silas (*NOTE: he is leo's typical fc if i don't have an designated one for him) and marcello as references to make him look the most like him as i can. the fcs are kind of loose for him but i need a way to like fully visualize him. so. yeah. his 'color palette' (weird way to put it but idk how else) makes him tanner than all three of them i fear. all of the fcs i use (other than jack schlossberg but like. idk his main celebrity lookalike in the better cr is him so i kind of had to) are latino, but i feel like it never ever properly translates when i talk about him bc his name is fucking leopold scott. like. huh.

he's also tall AS FUCK lol and built like a tank lowkey (think tom welling clark kent GOOD GOOGLY MOOGLY) but it's mainly bc he's a hockey player. in every vers he's like. 6'3. shortest he is is w marcello as his fc and even then he's 5'11. (note in pop star dr he gets a lot of comparisons to jacob elordi for some reason??? idk my fans are weird)

he's got big brown baby cow eyes. every. single. time. like that is this man's defining trait and you know what? i would not change that for the world lol

his position in hockey is a goalie! he uses the number #29 and plays for our college and later for the new jersey devils before being traded to the anaheim ducks. after he retires he becomes a firefighter!!!! (which is sooo hot btw)

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

I guess since I always write about X-Men when drunk, let me talk to you about Scott Summers.

Now look, Scott has a lot of haters, many of them my friends. I even agree with them. There's no easy way to take in Scott Summers. Because more than anything, Scott Summers is a question.

What do you do when they take it from you?

The answer can be many things. If you're Xavier, the answer is, you deny people their childhood. Scott, you're a child soldier by 13. You have just survived a traumatic plane crash in which your family seemingly all died. If you look at people, they die too, and it's your fault. You wear a literal filter to interact with everyone. Sometimes they tell you they're mad and you don't understand. The filter isn't thick enough. Xavier pats your head and tells you this is how it is. You have to be better. You have to be better than them. You have to be better than everybody.

If you're Magneto, the answer is your life. He had everything taken away from him so thoroughly, so long ago, that you, Scott, can't even fathom it. He's introduced to you while stealing nuclear warheads to threaten people who hate you. Every word Xavier has ever told you stings in your brain, like a worm. This is wrong. This is the enemy. He's doing it wrong. He's getting a bad grade at being a mutant. These feelings will poke at you for the rest of your life. You will come to disagree with them. By the time you're 40, you couldn't imagine a more steadfast ally than Magneto. He gets it, you see. No one else gets it like Max does.

If you're Jean Grey, the answer is fire. Create fire. Look for fire. Date a guy who can shoot fire from his eyes. Who can spit fire from his mouth and raise the dead with his words. Who can stand before the apocalypse and burn, burn as hard as fire can burn, as hot as a volcano, enough that the police are involved, that the Avengers are involved, that the gods are involved. Burn and burn and turn to ash and burn further until they stop telling you you're worthless. They never will. But Scott will never be one of them. He would rather burn everlasting than tell you you're less than what you think you are.

If you're Emma, it's kill them from the inside. Become part of the problem to make the problem go away. Meet the problem in their house. Fuck the problem. Buy the problem. Kill the problem by giving them a stroke. Emma thinks you, Scott, could be so much more. You could end the problem in a day, two days tops. You could rally them and radicalize them and make them see how insidious the problem is. But you never would. You tried, and it didn't agree to you. It got weird. You got weird.

If you're Logan, the answer is drinking. You drink and you try to forget, but you never do. You can't. You hang out with this guy, this beautiful, certain, consistent man, and you can't forget what you've lost, but you can make new memories. You can be someone else. You can put on a robe and lay down on a lazy chair and drink near Scott, overlooking the Earth, and you can think, I never want to forget this. I never want to not be here, with Scott, looking over everything. Feeling like I do, doing the things I do, having the relationship I do with him. But eventually it all goes away again, and you remember, right, I'm a violent person, I'm made for battle, I don't deserve love, I don't deserve Scott, I don't deserve anything. I deserve the woods. The wolves. The simplicity. The desire to forget, but never quite getting there. If you're Logan, you don't actually have an answer. Your whole life is a question without an answer.

And then you're Scott. You wonder what you should do when they take it from you. You're surrounded by people radicalized by their choices on how to react to that. You're radicalized by your mistakes. You're radicalized by the fights, the torture, the betrayal, the time in space, the time in hell, the time suffering. Every year of your life was the worst year of your life. Everything you've ever done is a thing to be mocked and used as a standard at the same time. No one knows who you are aside from the guy to listen to. You're 40. You're a father. You're tired. Your first instinct upon being given everything was gathering your family and moving; to the moon, even, where no one could hurt you. And then they took that away from you, too.

So, what do you do?

There's only really one answer.

You sigh, you put on the suit, you do some voice training, you call some friends. You do a speech. You suppress the feeling that it's futile, because that feeling is the oppressor, too. And you say it, like you've said it a thousand times, like you'll say it a thousand times more, like you were made to say, like you were taught to say, like your entire legacy will revolve around how you say this single phrase.

You will say this from your chest. You will say this when no one else is around and no one else is listening. You will say it because it's the right thing to say, and god damn it, at the end of the day, you will never acquiesce. You will never compromise. You will, in fact, always say it, for the rest of your life and beyond. When you're dead and buried and not coming back on the regular, people will still talk about how right you were when you said it, how righteous you sounded when you said it, and how certain you were when you said it.

You say it when they're attacking, you say it when you're attacking, you say it as a defense, you say it as a response, you say it as every figure of importance in your life has given way to compromise or disappointment; as everyone has left you, and has moved on, and has decided oppression doesn't equal a life poorly lived, and has asked you to lose their number because they can't do this anymore, it has taken too much from them and they don't want this to be their lives.

You say you understand, you lose their number, you stop relying on them, and you start saying it to others. Sometimes to people who are too young, but they get it. This is the only appropriate reaction, after all. You were Scott and you were 13 years old when you were a soldier. They can do that, too.

What do you do when they take everything away from you?

Scott Summers sighs and fills his chest with air.

When they take it all from you, Cyclops says "To me, my X-Men."

[admirationandromantics]

Chris's Little Sister

Can you write something about Josh dating Chris’s younger sister? -anon 

Of course I can!! I think one of the best ways to incorporate the reader into the group would actually be through a sibling relationship. And like… brother’s best friend? Now that’s something I live for. I did take some inspiration from Friends, just felt like it fit. Anyways, enjoy some headcanons for this one (already written one story today, and prepping for Christmas, so don’t have that much time).

And yeah, I still got a couple of requests in my inbox, but please bear with me. I do have things to do, but will get to them when I have the time. Enjoy <3

Chris and Josh met in third grade, so no wonder that when Chris brought home this beautiful little guy, you had heart eyes. You didn’t dare to talk to him, even when he initiated the conversation. You hid behind Chris or your mom, just observing them as they played. 

As you grew older, you developed more of a friendly relationship, this was your brother’s best friend after all, you weren’t gonna fuck it up. Chris brought you when you went to the Washingtons, and you mainly spent your time with the twins. 

Of course, Josh had a soft spot for you. He liked you, felt that he had to protect you, that sort of thing. You didn’t know if it was because you were Chris’s sister or because there was something else beneath. Soon, after a little too much time without Chris, you guys figured things out. 

Stolen glances became signals for a retreat to a secluded make out spot. Secret visits, making sure not to wake his sisters as well. Small touches that no one noticed. Everything felt like fireful passion, and keeping it secret made it even more thrilling. 

Josh has also made a few suggestive comments to his friend, trying to warm him up to the idea. “No, I’m not home that day” “Is your sister home?” “Why does that matter?” “I can think of a few ways we could entertain ourselves” “You’re not going near my sister, I’ll beat your head off, no joke” “Yeah, yeah… I know” 

When the annual winter getaway came, you found yourself with a lot more space and options. You and Josh talked, always away from Chris. I mean, he would actually kill him if he did something. You spent this time being flirty, a few comments here and there, which surprised the bachelor. 

That’s when it suddenly happened. You found yourself pressed up against the wall, locking lips with Josh Washington, your brother’s best friend. But you were caught. Hannah stood like a ghost in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape. You both knew you had fucked up. 

“Hannah!” “Don’t fucking talk to me” “Hannah, please!” “Has this been the drive all along? Being my friend, being with me just to hook up with my brother?” 

“You hooked up with Josh?” The colour drains from your face as you hear his voice. Chris, standing there, defeated, looking down on you. Everything is fucked up, everything is bad. “Chris, please hear me out…” 

He doesn’t. He marches to Josh’s room, confronting his friend. “What the hell, Josh!” 

You run inside, putting yourself in between them. “What’s going on?” Josh whispers to you, confused by the raging blonde. “He knows” “Shit”

“How long has this been going on?” You’re both silent, wondering what the right answer to the question might be. A while, a long time. Maybe he’d go easier on you if you said it was just one time? “Oh my god, and you never told me?” He’s looking down at you, disappointment and full of sorrow. 

“Listen Chris…” “Is he forcing you to do anything?” “No!” “Has he manipulated you in any way?” “Absolutely not!” 

He’s still defeated, trying to come to terms with it all. “You have many girls head over heels for you. Why, why. Why did it have to be her?” 

You wouldn’t admit it, but you were kind of curious as well. Why you, of all people. 

“Man, I-I can’t describe it. It just happened. And I’m glad it did. I love her, and we work, we’re good together” 

You both turn your attention to Chris again, and you take hold of his hand, rubbing over the knuckles softly. “I’m sorry Chris, but I feel the same about him” 

“For goodness sake, it’ll take time for me to digest this” “Of course, we understand” “And you feel safe?” “I do” “And he hasn’t hurt you in any way?” “No” 

“That’s a lie” Beth says, standing in the doorway. “What?” “The sounds I’ve heard from his room the last few weeks…” 

The relief turns to fear again as your brother rush to tackle your boyfriend.

[angelltheninth]

Every Time He Leaves

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, reunions, teasing, family planning

Word count: 0.8k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I heard that the sequel isn't coming in 2025 but that won't stop me from writing fics for this amazing man.

"Mi vida, I'm home." Miguel heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, a good sort of comfort now in your current state. "Baby? Are you asleep?" You could pretend to be. Like you pretended all those night before, then wake up in the morning and wonder if he would be there or not. No. Not this time.

You waited for him to open the door, his charming, soft smile thrown your way, almost shaking your resolve.

"You didn't have to wait up for me you know, I don't mind cuddling up next to my-" He stopped talking once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom and he saw your eyes red from crying, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You nodded. You were about to explain when he was in front of you in a flash, his hands pressing and prodding, looking you over. The bed dipped to one side under Miguel's weight, his worried expression turning a little angry, " Where does it hurt? Who hurt you? I'll make them regret it!"

You let out a long heavy sigh. Taking one of his hands you placed it above your heart and then pointed your finger at him, finally meeting his eyes with your being full of tears, "You hurt me."

"What?" He looked like you just slapped him, which would have been preferable, he would hardly feel that. But your words, they cut deep. "What do you mean? Was I rough with you last night? You told me it was-"

"Oh for gods sake Miguel, I'm not talking about that. I'm not physically hurt." You backed up a bit, putting some space between you two. It was a little empty space, easy to close, yet it felt like you were worlds, universes apart, "I don't ever see you anymore. You go on missions, you come back, you... fuck me and then you leave. Do you really not get how that makes me feel? How... used and alone I feel?"

The sex was good. The sex was damn good. Perfect even. He was so close to you, he was smiling at you, you were one with him, holding him, feeling him everywhere, kissing him. But those moments, they passed way too quickly for your liking and then you were empty and alone again.

"Is that really how you feel?" He sounded like he couldn't wrap his head around what you were saying. At the same time you could see it on his face that he was putting the puzzle pieces together. "I love you, more then anything, you're the most important person in this or any universe to me. I... would stop. If you wanted me to. We could settle down, buy a bigger house, start a family, like we talked about."

"How? How can you say that when you leave without... without even telling me? Your job is important, I understand that, but for the love of god Miguel, I'm your girlfriend! I at least deserve to know when you're leaving don't I? What if... what if one day you... what if you don't come back to me?" You started hiccuping while you cried, your body shaking from the wave of emotions that you were finally able to unleash. There was a part of you that felt like it was selfish, that Miguel wasn't yours to keep and that doing so would mean a lot of people would get hurt. Did you deserve him in the first place?

Miguel's arms wrapped around your smaller frame, you could hear his heart beating quickly, you could feel him shaking along with you while he balanced himself on his knees, his suit flickering on and off. "I would never abandon you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell itself I'd find a way to come back to you. I made up my mind long ago, when I die it will when we're both old and I lost all my hair."

"And we have grandkids running around?" You whisper against his chest, voice still raw from crying and nose stuffed from sniffles.

"So many grandkids. We're gonna have a big family, just like we planned. I know its hard right now but its almost over okay? Then we can settle down anywhere you want." Miguel cupped the back of your head as his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for the longest time, "Nothing is more important then you. Nothing."

"I want at least three kids." He nodded, "A big house in the country side." A nod, "A big, cuddly dog." Another nod, "And you in my bed every night." He kissed you, not caring the least that you tasted like tears. But he didn't stop there. His hands lifted you up by the hips, your legs wrapping around his body as you felt yourself being lowered on the bed.

You felt his suit vanish and warm muscles take its place, "Three kids. That's a lot of work. We should practice as much as we can." Miguel smirked like an idiot while he undressed you, ready to prove his love to you.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Shovel Love

Snow tickled the tip of his nose as Jason fumbled with his keys. His gloves were too thick for his pockets, and his grocery bags made any maneuvering unnecessarily complicated. He was not dropping the cereals on the sidewalk. Half of it was covered in melted slush that would instantly destroy the package. He’d never live it down. 

So, he might have had to bite on his gloves, ignore the taste of leather and keep an arm elevated to balance his bags, but he did get his keys out without accident. 

The triumph was short-lived though, as the hair on the back of his neck suddenly tingled. 

“What do you want?” Jason asked, not looking away from the door. 

There was the faintest sound of snow crunching behind him. 

“I came to give a warning,” Nightwing hissed, his voice low and dark, as threatening as anything Jason had ever heard. 

And he had heard a lot of threats from his big brother. The perils of tugging Batman’s cape. 

“You’re a bit late for that,” Jason scoffed, a corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. “Already had the Arrows and most of the Titans give me their speech weeks ago. What took you so long?”

The scowl on his brother’s face deepened. 

Nightwing was the type of man that worked three superhero shifts and still tried to hold a day job. He was always in movement, always everywhere he needed to be. It made him reliable and popular with multiple generations of heroes at this point. But it also meant he had no roots anywhere. He got gossip later than most, and he was not always in a position to make good on that intel right away. Multiple crises owing.  

This was probably the first free moment he had gotten since he had learned that Jason was in a relationship with Roy Harper. 

Understandable. But Jason didn’t really care for that excuse. 

“I was busy. Others told me they’d already seen you, but I still wanted to show up for Roy.”

This time, Jason did snort. Sure. Everyone wanted to be there for Roy. And he had not ended up friendless in rehab either. God, he hated them sometimes. 

A gloved fist struck the door right next to his head. 

Jason turned around. Nightwing boxed him against the door. He was shorter, sure, but that did nothing to lessen the actual threat in his stance. Jason had seen him take down behemoths like Bane or Croc without a scratch after all.  

“Enough,” Dick growled. 

It was also hard to ignore the fact that Dick had shown up in armor while Jason only wore a winter coat for protection. And a bag of groceries hardly compared to escrima sticks with the power of cattle prods. 

“I don’t care what game you think you’re playing-”

“Not a game,” Jason bit out, irritated despite his best efforts. 

“When you break Roy’s heart, I will make you regret toying with my friend for another one of your fucked up taunts.”

“Not everything is about you.”

It took skills to convey an eye roll behind a domino mask. Nightwing managed effortlessly. 

“Of course not.” His voice turned snide. “When is it never not about Jason Todd with you?”

“Not even gonna dignify that one. So, you gonna break me in half if I hurt Roy. Cool. Message received. Are you done?”

Wrong thing to say. His dismissive tone was obviously interpreted wrong, because Nightwing bristled. 

“If you think I won’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, ten out of ten, Dick. But like I said, you ain’t the first one to give that speech. I’ve already been threatened to be skewered, deafened, decapitated, frozen in the speedforce, drowned, pulverized, thrown to a hell dimension, etc. etc. with the promise that it would make what the Joker did to me seem tame.”

Nightwing did twitch then, but it was a small thing, and quickly buried away if it was ever there. Jason didn’t bother putting stock in it.

“I guess no one really threatened lobotomy if you want to go there. Wait, no, one of his psychic teammates did. Look, at this point, just say you’re gonna beat me to death with your bare hands and save us both the time.”

Nightwing’s fists clenched, and his skin paled another shade. 

It could be anger, horror, any number of things. Jason had no intention to decipher it. 

The scar on his neck was throbbing, like it wanted Jason to remember. Funny how that always happened around heroes. 

“I really don’t care what a bunch of hypocrites like you think of me, Dick. If you wanna break your moral codes on me, go for it, you wouldn’t be the first. Hell, it wouldn’t even be your first time either.”

The frown slipped for a second, replaced by surprise, by outrage. God, Nightwing was winding himself up again, and Jason just really wanted to go put this fucking carton of milk in the fridge before it went bad. 

“Night, Dick. Glare at me through the windows if you still want to be intimidating, but I’m done talking. You’ll kill me, message received. Now, fuck off.”

And he twisted his keys in, pushing the door open and slipping inside in an instant. 

He slammed the door closed behind himself, and he snorted when the doorknob immediately rattled. Didn’t open without a key to the building. Obviously, Nightwing could break in. He probably wouldn’t though. He’d said what he wanted to, and Dick had never wanted to speak to Jason longer than necessary. 

He would definitely be doing some surveillance tonight though. He would be on high alert, probably under the impression that now that the main player had shown up, Jason would be putting his diabolical plans into action. Damn. He should close the curtains first thing as he enters, but that would be just inviting Dick to bring in every friend he had to mount a ‘rescue’. 

Jason liked this apartment. They had picked it together. It had enough space for them, was in the right part of town to be close to action when they went out as vigilantes, didn’t cost both their arms to buy…  

It was in Star City, but nothing could be perfect. 

Jason climbed out the last of the stairs and played with the keys for a second before he entered his home. 

Roy dropped the arrowhead he’d been working on, and stood up from the dinner table.

“Jaybird!”

Roy had a tendency to light up whenever he saw someone he cared about. It didn’t matter if Jason was leaving for a black out ops that would take a week or two or if he was going on a walk, the second he was back, Roy’s smile went wide and the knots of tension in his body all went slack at the same time. 

It didn’t matter how many times Jason came back, Roy exuded relief every time. 

(Not a lot of people stayed for Roy.)

The grocery bags found their way to the kitchen counter. The carton of milk could wait. 

“Hey,” Jason said as he grabbed onto his partner’s hips, “missed me?” 

“Yup,” Roy chirped, right before he leaned forward and met Jason with a gentle kiss. 

For a second, all was right in the world. And because he was Jason Todd, that feeling truly only lasted a second. He wanted to abandon himself in his lover’s arms, those beautiful biceps that pulled incredibly powerful bows to nail insane targets from equally insane distances. Even if he did not deserve that kind of peace, Jason was too greedy not to want it. But he could already feel someone’s eyes on them. Huh. That really did fuck up the mood, didn’t it?

They parted. 

“Who was it this time?” Roy asked after a moment, his shoulders dropping in exhaustion. 

Jason offered the smallest smile. “Dear old Dickiebird. He’s probably watching us as we speak.”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. He briefly closed his eyes, and muttered some absolutely filthy curses that would have made a sailor blush. Then, with a determined stride, he marched right up to their living room’s window. He made a show of scanning the night, then flipped off the figure perched on the rooftop opposite to theirs. 

Jason devolved into giggles. Giggles! Him! And in front of a witness too. It was a good thing no one would ever believe Roy that Jason was capable of anything other than snarls and sneers. 

The funniest part of all these threats was that all these paragons somehow thought Jason would still be alive after he lost the last person to ever care about him. Was he supposed to care if they chose to spit on his corpse or reduce it to ash? It’d only help make sure Jason would not come back again.

***

Nightwing’s visit was nothing out of the ordinary, besides the tardiness. Jason had a reputation. It pissed Roy off to no end how so many people would parade around their place now and offer him unconditional support in kicking Jason to the curb if needed. Jason honestly would have thought it was kind of sweet, if it was not disgustingly hypocritical. 

Roy had once been the black sheep of the hero community. 

But the blackest sheep of them all wore a Red Hood. 

Also, on occasion, an apron to cook. A cheesy, horny one that said ‘Kiss the cock’ with a cartoony rooster on the front. Roy always waggled his eyebrows at Jason when he wore it. What was he supposed to do? A man was weak. 

At least, the horny promises in those eyes usually waited after they had eaten whatever Jason had slaved over in his pots and pans. 

Tonight’s menu was a honey glazed salmon that had been priced just in that sweet spot of affordable on sale they always looked for. It did look good, if Jason said so himself. He poked at it with his knife, his mind on other things. He should not wait any longer. It was almost the twenty-fourth. Any later and it would hurt worse. 

He hated himself a bit more for it though. 

“Hey, Roy?” Jason said softly. 

Roy hummed lazily, blowing over the steaming piece of fish. “Jaybird? What is it?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to Queen’s for Christmas Dinner. ”

Roy froze. He stared, uncomprehending, his fork still suspended in the air with a piece of salmon, held in a tightly clenched hand. He stopped breathing. His eyes filled with an emotion that was so rare in him. 

Fear, in a way no army of mimes or evil robots or space dragons could ever evoke. 

“I got a lead on the trafficking ring,” Jason said. 

The shift was immediate. Whiplash even. Roy nodded, mind set. 

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Jason made a show of hesitating. The last thing he wanted was to pull his partner away from the people he loved. Especially when things had been so rough between them before. It would do no one any favor if Roy bailed on them now.  

“You should go see your family.”

“Jason,” Roy scoffed. 

“They wouldn’t be happy if I pulled you away from the holidays for work.”

A flash of fiery emotion burned through Roy’s voice. “So what? I should let you do this without backup because Ollie wouldn’t get into the Christmas Spirit otherwise?”

“We already scouted things. We don’t need to both be there to crash the operation. I’ll be on frequency. If I need the backup, I can call the rest of the birds. They’ll show up.”

They wouldn’t, because Jason would not tell them anything. But there was a slight possibility that they would have shown up if they knew the trafficking ring was legit and not a trap. 

“I don’t like this, Jaybird. We’re a team…”

“I’ll be fine. Nothing will happen to me. And it’s better this way. Do you really think the arrows wanted me polluting their dinner table? I can see Queen’s glare from here.”

“So you should be alone on Christmas instead,” Roy whispered miserably. “Jaybird… ”

Guilt started to gnaw at Jason’s bone, but he held firm. He wrapped his arms around his man and placed a light kiss on his cheek. 

“I’ll be okay, Roy. Not my first time. Trust me, you won’t miss anything busting up scum’s kneecaps. Okay, except maybe some catharsis, but we can do that any other time. Just go spend the time with your family. I’ll be there when you come back. What will you do with the gifts you’ve bought otherwise? Come on, Roy. You’ve been looking forward to that dinner for months.”

Which was exactly why Jason had timed everything to be unavailable at the last minute. He had taken the hints a while ago. He was not going to ruin things for Roy to impose on people that hated him. 

***

Jason did not react to the sound of their bedroom door slowly opening. 

He pretended not to hear Roy’s sharp intake of air, or his sigh of relief. They did not poke at each other’s open wounds. They’d never survive if they started acting like their families. For all Jason was the biggest stain on superhero society, that spot had once belonged to Roy. Blame was an insidious game. It snuck up on you. It made fathers throw their kids out in the street. So, they just didn’t. 

Jason pretended to stir only when the bed dipped, because it would be completely nonsensical for a bat not to notice. 

(Roy, of course, knew.)

(They knew a lot of things about each other that they never put into words.)

“Had fun?” he mumbled into his pillow. 

Roy pressed himself against Jason’s back, warm, almost feverish. His arms circled Jason’s waist, his nose tickled the middle of Jason’s back. Like he didn’t want to risk Jason seeing his face. 

“Yeah. You? Wiped out the whole operation?”

“Purged the whole thing. Got a bunch of kids to their parents, or the cops for those who lived out of town. ”

A faint tension seemed to fall into the room. 

Jason should not have said that. 

Roy’s body was trembling. 

“They put up a plate for Lian… ”

Oh, Roy. 

“Dinah gave a speech. It was…” Roy sniffed. “It was really pretty. Lian would have loved it. Everyone ended up crying. Fuck, I… I really would have given up everything for her to be there with us then. I… I would have wanted you there, Jaybird.”

Jason bit his lips, staring ahead at their bedroom wall. Anywhere but back.

“Sorry, Roy.”

Should he have gone anyway? In his guts, he knew it would have been a disaster. Everyone else would have been so pissed if he had witnessed their moment. He was well aware of what Queen thought of him. He’d hissed it to him once. 

Why in the name of all that was good was he the one that came back to life? 

Jokes on Queen, Jason had been having those thoughts long before he and Roy ever became an item. Before the whole of the hero community seemingly rallied behind Roy for once in their goddamned lives. 

As Robin, he had died under the impression that he had been loved. That he had been a good hero, and that he had had a better run than most kids in his circumstances would have. 

And then he had woken up in his own coffin. 

How many of them had told him he had wasted every opportunity to be welcomed back? 

To what? He’d thought about asking them again and again. To a father who had disowned him in death, turned him into a cautionary tale for the other sidekicks? To a community that had forgotten him? To a battle that featured all the same monsters, only bolstered by even more abominations like Professor Pyg? 

Jason had died thinking he had been loved, and some cruel cosmic force had decided to show him how wrong he had been. 

Batman had told him, between even more lectures, that it was natural that a father would be filled with righteous fury at the death of his son. That it was expected he’d try to retaliate. To kill his son’s killers. 

Funny that, right? But Jason had also forgotten how Bruce had claimed not to be Jason’s father. His fucking fault for getting it wrong. For letting himself believe. For giving Batman a second chance, one desperate chance to show Jason had not been just a fool to believe three years of partnership meant something. 

He had long stopped being annoyed whenever someone got his motives wrong. He had been screaming everything he wanted and needed and was trying to accomplish, and not one of them got it right. Half the bats thought he had tried to force Batman to kill the Joker, for fuck’s sake. 

(The irony of them thinking Bruce needed to be forced to kill someone made Jason’s scar ache.)

(The irony of them thinking he had only come back from the dead once .)

“Do you want to go see her tomorrow?” Jason asked. 

Roy nodded against his back, stifling another bout of sobbing. Tightening his grip as if he would drown without that touch. 

“We’ll buy her a bouquet of daffodils and white lilies.”

“And red carnations.”

“Yes. Those too.”

The keening sound Roy made threatened to rip Jason’s heart in two. He felt himself shudder, his insides growing cold as he placed his hands over Roy’s, as he leaned into his partner’s touch. 

“Roy, I’m here,” he whispered urgently.  

“Don’t leave me, Jaybird. Please, don’t leave me. I can’t lose anyone else. I’m sorry. I know they hate you, I keep telling them to knock it off, but they never listen. They told me again tonight. They keep saying it’s Jade all over again. It’s not. I know it’s not. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.”

“I’m here,” he repeated. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, he managed to twist himself inside Roy’s dead grip, managed to turn around to face his partner in crime and in life.

“Everyone leaves. Even Kori,” Roy whispered, despair choking him.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m here. Roy, I’m here. I won’t leave and I won’t die. I love you.”

Roy gave him a kiss mixed with tears. “I love you.”

Jason was certain that more heroes would come out of the woodwork and posture at him eventually. They would threaten and reason and bargain and every other thing they could think of to protect Roy from Jason. 

But when he held Roy in his arms after another nightmare, another beautiful dream where Lian was alive, another listless night when his arms itched with cravings , Jason knew he would be there until the day Roy got sick of him.

Like everyone else. 

But not a moment sooner. 

[in-a-bucket]

Project Eden's Garden CH 1 thoughts

hey so this probably isn't gonna be coherent at all cause i just finished the chapter and it took my like 12 hours to finish it so i have not slept but i just need to get my thoughts out lol

uh anyway major spoilers for the whole chapter you have been warned

so for the chapter as a whole i had a great time playing it! you can really see all the love and care put into this project. that being said, this chapter was CARRIED by it's deadly life/trial section, at least in my opinion. the daily life wasn't like terrible by any means it just didn't feel like a whole lot happened? the days felt really short, like the day you explore the new area is literally, wake up, meet in the dining hall briefly, explore the new area, and then go to bed. i was like ????? how is the day already done what. and then when the motive was introduced it was a bit lackluster, the concept was really cool with the pictures and the vague messages for the blackmail, but then we barely find out what anyone's information and the few people we do find out isn't super bad (expect for wolfgang kind of, maybe?), hell damon is not once concerned about the motive and none of the other characters seem all that concerned about it either which i think kinda brings the tension and stakes down. it's pretty evident when you find out the killer's motive as nothing to do with the blackmail and they weren't even concerned over their own blackmail so they have to create an entirely separate motive with the whole traitor perk thing, and it's not like that came out of thin air cause you're told about the secret prize from the get go i just don't get why they didn't use the motive they already made instead of revealing it all at the end of the trial from tozu.

ok whoops getting kind of off topic there but yeah daily life, it just felt like there could have been more, maybe it just has to do with the kind of guy damon is, but it kind of felt like we were dragging our feet from time to time idk maybe im just insane.

as for deadly life, holy shit they made some ballsy decisions here. can't really say whether they were good ones yet or not since we still have 5(?) more chapters but i have to respect the devs for who the first victim and killer ended up being (i'll get to them later). i remember thinking (man this is a pretty long investigation lol), although it probably didn't help that it took me forever to find the blood in the hallway i was genuinely so confused as to what i was missing I went back into all of the storage closets and like triple checked i had exgauhsted all dialogue, and then i was trying the move my mouse all over the place to see if there was anything else to search and then i finally found it.

the trial was so fucking fun, as devastated as i was due to who the victim was it was a ton of fun figuring out the crime and i genuinelly thought it was gonna be diana and i was gonna be done with the trial in about 2 hours and only to hit and intermission and realize i hadn't used like half my evidence yet. the mechanism of the crime was really cool too and i had a lot of fun solving it, even if i did start to lose the plot when it came to the stuff of the cord and the vent but that might've just been me being tired. I will say i did not enjoy the bullet hell argument whatever it's called at the very end, the artwork was really cool but it took me FOREVER to beat it, and myabe that's just cause i'm bad at video games but ti was so frustrating getting to stage 3 multiple times then loosing all of my health and having the start all over again. i think it would have been better if you run of of health you have to start from the beginning of whatever stage you died on but hey maybe i just suck at the game idk.

okay now on to some more character specific stuff, first of all WOLFGANG AKIRE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU GAHHHH

ugh i'll admit it, i'm actually devastated he died first like seriously thank god the trial was as good as it was cause i might have stopped playing if it wasn't lol. in all seriousness though i was so excited for how he'd handle someone killing and all of the reprecussions with that only for him to die first lol. i really hope that this isn't the last we get to hear about him though, like i hope he's not just like a passing thought in ch 2 and then never mentioned again kind of a thing like hopefully he'll be plot relevant in the future or something idk i just want more wolfgang he's my fav BRING HIM BACKKKK. maybe we'll get to learn more about him through grace cause i'm now like 99% sure they knew each other before this whole mess lmao i mean come on grace wanted to be roomies with him and she was so fucking devastated by him dying and didn't want people poking around his room like come on.

and just everything you find out about his situation in the trial is just devastating oh my godddd. i was really worried they were gonna pull the whole "omg guys wolfgang was killed in self-defense and he was actually terrible this whole time and you all should have believed me(damon) cause i was right all along memememememe" and they didn't thank god. just that whole scene where diana reveals their confrontation was just so good like that is one of my top fangan scenes of all time now. just all the stuff he was saying revealing stuff about his character that might NEVER BE ELABORATED ON CAUSE HES FUCKING DEAD NOW WTFFFF WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS. and the voice acting was fucking incredible holy shit NAD THE FUCKING SPRITE WORK OH MY GOD THAT SHIT WAS AMAZING. the sprites for wolfgang and eva (i'll get to her later) were so fucking good i mean just look at this shit

LIKE THIS IS DEVESTATING TO ME LIKE HOLY FUCK BRO I NEED TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON IN UR HEAD AND NOW I NEVER WILL CAUSE UR DEAD UGHHHHHH

it's really funny cause i actually ended up doing all of his FTEs not knowing he was gonna die

now let's talk about eva cause holy fuck girl. i remember after the prologue she was one of my least favorite characters, cause it felt like her whole personality was "ooooo look at how mysterious and cool I am ooooooooo", but then you get the reveal that she lied about being the ultimate liar and you get her normal talent and she actually shows an actual personality and is a video game nerd i was like "omg yes i'm loving the p:eg team's take on this!" and she was moving up my character tier list ranking very quickly, and then she was revealed as the killer and she tried to pin everything on damon and then her reasons for killing wolfgang in the first place and she went right back down to the bottom LMAO. not because i thought she had bad writing or something but at the end of the day her motivations for taking the perk were pretty selfish and while i agree that wolfgang shouldn't have been trying to isolate her like that she kind of put a target on herself for no reason by lying about her talent like girl what did you think was going to happen lol. also her execution was fucking brutal, it looked incredible but damn was it brutal, she didn't need to go out like that omg.

as for some other characters, always gonna love my girls grace and cassidy they were a delight as always and i look forward to seeing more of them, diana went up on my tier list and i'm looking forward to seeing where her character goes from here, i'm also really loving jean a lot but he feels a little too helpful so i fear he might die next chapter lol.

i feel like there's more i have to say but im so tried lol so yeah have whatever this is lol. overall i had a great time playing and everyone did an amazing job working on it (even if i am really upset you killed my fav), i look forward to whatever the next chapter brings!

[ghostieblr]

Definitely Not Adorable Behavior

based on a reel i saw on instagram lol. changed the narrative a bit to fit the characters.

Stiles' eyes track Merlin's, towards the corner of the massive ballroom, where two men are standing with their hands crossed against their chest. Their side-profile are almost identical: crisp, tailored black suits, accentuating their biceps, broad shoulders, and tantalizingly shaped body figures. Even their heights seem to be the same; the only notable difference from this angle is the color of their hair: a dark, deep, raven onyx versus a golden halo.

"They're arguing about something."

"Yes," Merlin sips his drink, the one he's claimed several times into the evening to be a disgusting piece of beverage, and winces. "I don't know why I keep drinking it."

"That's because Arthur brought it for you," Stiles tells him with a knowing smile. "And you won't deny him the pleasure of serving you, no matter how awful the taste might be."

Merlin looks at the gaudy, unneeded, and entirely unnecessary piece of diamond ring that Derek gifted him for this evening. It's almost the same size as his engagement ring, and it sits prettily enough on his left hand's pointer finger. Merlin catches his eye with a gentle smile on his own face.

"Arthur and I share something special," he begins, voice lilting into the foreign accent Stiles hasn't been able to place yet. It sounds like Welsh, but different than the one he knows. Older. "For a long time I thought my devotion to him wouldn't be reciprocated, and it was fine. I was fine with it. But as always, the clotpole had other ideas." Clotpole. What the hell does that even mean? Merlin's chuckle brings him back to what he is saying, "—told him, and so, now Arthur thinks he must make it up to me."

"Or he just loves you very, very much, but has awful taste."

"That, too."

They'd turned towards each other for the conversation, the din of the hall loud enough to keep it private from prying ears, but now they turn. Someone just gasped, and they're both most definitely into drama from the sidelines.

"Oh my god."

"Are they— ARTHUR!"

"DEREK SEBASTIAN HALE!"

Both men freeze. The old lady who gasped turns to look at them, as does the rest of the room, but Stiles isn't paying them any heed, and neither is Merlin. No. Their focus is entirely on their idiots.

Arthur's left hand is fisted at Derek's tie, and his right hand is frozen near his waist, crooked fingers looking for purchase. Weirdly, Stiles likens this action with looking for a sword in its scabbard, tightened securely near hips.

On the flip side, Derek's got his right hand centimeters from Arthur's nose, while his left one must be aiming to intercept Arthur's sword-hand or whatever.

And their faces. Oh Jesus Christ, their faces.

Red with anger. Mouths open in a feral cry of war. And eyes? Stuck on Stiles and Merlin, fear melting their rage.

Both him and Merlin stride towards them, Merlin's glass of questionably purple drink handed to one of the catering staff, and it's as if their movement reminds Arthur and Derek that they're caught. They jump apart, though they do share a look of commiserating grief over being caught.

Bastards. United against spousal anger.

Merlin and him don't say anything in this hall with interested ears and human eyes and multitudes of equipment ready to immortalize this scene; they simply take their respective husband's hands in their own and drag them out towards the parking lot, which happens to be mostly empty. Still, they go in deeper towards a secluded corner.

Once there, Stiles stares their Derek down, hands back at his sides. Merlin does the same.

"So? Care to elaborate what the fuck that was about?" His question is met nervous breathing and another commiserating look. "Oh, so now you're both buddy-buddy, but inside the hall you two were — what, enemies?" He snorts. He can't help it; Derek and him have faced literal monsters, and yet Derek was about to fight a posh, young man for... some reason?

Before either of them can speak, Merlin narrows his eyes. "Wait. Was this a ruse?"

"A ruse? What do you mean, Merlin?"

"Your royal pratness, by that I mean a very elaborate scheme to leave that dull place with questionable drinks and—"

Arthur's face goes from confused to dull. "Did you not like the Favor?"

"Favor?" Merlin question's, and Stiles shoots Derek a look to shush. Why the hell is he finding this so funny?

"That's what the drink was called. And it was purple. It wasn't nice? So I..." Arthur's gaze turns wide. "And you still drank it all! I even brought you a second glass of it, why didn't you tell me you didn't like it?"

Merlin rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture. When no answers seem forthcoming from him, Stiles steps in.

"It was thoughtful, I guess, since I'm gonna assume purple and that name means something to you both?" They nod in assent. "Right. See, thoughtful gifts are nice... but not always. Like, maybe you like it, but Merlin wouldn't. And it's not a bad thing at all, you just need to communicate."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Says the man who hates the diamond ring gifted to him."

Stiles hisses, "Hey!" at the same time Derek asks, voice small, "Stiles?"

He turns towards his husband, moves closer. "Hey, it's nice. It's a very good gift."

Arthur says, weirdly with glee, "Which you don't like!"

"I love the thought behind it though!"

"But you don't like it," Derek repeats, eyes on Stiles', daring him to lie again.

Stiles cups his face, rubs his thumb against his stubble. "No," he admits. "I don't."

"I think we have gone a bit off-track here," Merlin says, after a while. Stiles turns to see the other couple in a similar position: in an almost-embrace, an intimate moment shared. "Why were you two at each other's throats?"

A third look is shared between Derek and Arthur. Then, Derek says, "It was about what that lady asked us."

"Yeah."

Merlin and Stiles wait for further elaboration, one which doesn't come. Now they share a look, and take a step to move away from their respective embraces. That, apparently, does the trick, and Arthur continues from his monosyllable answer, neither of the men letting Merlin or Stiles leave their personal space in the process.

"She asked us, 'What's the most expensive thing you've ever eaten?' and we told her. We disagreed at each other's answer, though."

"This was done over a trivial question? Derek. What the hell."

"I wonder how bigger your head can grow, Arthur. Really?"

Derek leans in close to him and tells him, in almost his Alpha voice, "My answer was you."

Stiles blinks. Huh? "Huh?" And then, "Oh my god—"

"And I said you," Arthur adds. "Of course, my Merlin is more expensive than your husband."

"I said this, and I'll say this again: Stiles is literally wearing the most expensive set of clothes right now on this side of the coast, he's wearing two diaomond rings, and that's just today's outfit."

Both Derek and Arthur push him and Merlin behind them, and move closer to each other, gearing up for a fight. Again.

"Unappreciated gifts don't count, and my husband is wearing a neckerchief made of the most pure gold, and that's just one of them!"

Stiles and Merlin look at each other.

"I had no idea this suit was that fucking expensive," he tells the man, who is eyeing up his own neckerchief in betrayal.

"You said this was just the color gold!"

"Merlin, we're leaving. Let's go."

"Yes. They can duke it out between themselves, while we enjoy this evening with people who tell us the truth."

They turn around, and start walking back towards the ballroom. Behind them, the fight never occurs. Instead, pounding footsteps follow them, and really, this evening did not go how Stiles had envisioned it to be.

(Lydia tells them a week later that "Derek Hale and Arthur Emrys begging their partners for forgiveness in the charity gala" is still a solid opening hit for a conversation, and Merlin rolls his eyes before his eyes glow gold and his favorite chips appear in his hand.

Because apparently, they're the Merlin and Arthur: Magic itself, and the Once and Future King.

Stiles' own eyes glow a deep purple, and both him and Lydia now have their favorite drinks in their hands.

Meanwhile, Derek's authority and Arthur's ego clash over something else equally trivial in the kitchen. Hopefully their bickering won't get in the way of dinner.

If it does... oh well. A Spark and The Sorcerer can cook something, can't they?

And no, both him and Merlin have decided that in no way, shape, or form, are they telling their husbands that the fact that their arguments occur mostly over being the 'better husband' is adorable. Nope, never, ever.)

[cleveradjacent]

I'm so super curious can you tell me more about your interpretation of Yuusaku as a character ^_^

oh thank you for asking! tbh i haven't given yuusaku all that much thought compared to other characters, but i tend to ramble when no one is there to stop me, so this will probably still end up lengthy. (edit from the future: it did)

because of my latest fic and a previous ask, one might get the impression that i dislike him, but i don't. i don't feel one way or the other about him, he's fun to me as a tool for writing ogata and that's about it (same for vasya but this ain't about him). but! ever since i've written 'all that loves you', i've been thinking about the juxtaposition of his good intentions and the more sinister undertones of his worldview, and that's a juicy contrast to sink my teeth into.

on the one hand, he's a naive sheltered kid, a victim of his father and his country. i cannot in good conscience prescribe him ill intent. i believe he suffered at the hands of his father as ogata has suffered -- he was raised an unquestioning lamb to the slaughter and sent off to charge head-first into said slaughter over and over and over until his inevitable end.

not his father, not tsurumi, not ogata, not any other soldier saw him as a person. being disdained for who you are and put on a pedestal for the very same thing are both a kind of dehumanization. he was never hanazawa yuusaku the man to anyone, only a symbol, either in life or in death. even to the story, he's nothing but ogata's plot device. he's barely there. hell, he's nothing but ogata's plot device to me. talk about tragedy.

he wasn't given much time or chance to break out of what he's been taught. all that bullshit about duty and purity and having to be a symbol of both -- when it's all you've ever known, it'll stick. maybe, the inevitability of all i'm about to describe makes him tragic all the more.

and yet!

he is not any naive sheltered kid. he is a japanese soldier in china in 1904. he is dying and leading others into death for a brutal imperialist landgrab. you could argue about how much agency he has over the fact and over his convictions (as a ukranian in russia and the child of an officer, i've had PLENTY of that argument), but i'm not gonna do that here. whatever your stance, the outcome is the same: he's an enthusiastic participant to something truly horrible.

and in the midst of it, his desire to preserve his "purity" comes off as absurd and self-delusional. i'm not arguing for murder; i'm arguing that his belief in this abstract purity, that he has one to maintain in the first place, and, by extension, that he's the only soldier around who should do it makes him extremely out of touch. i've written about this from ogata's perspective in 'this weapon wants' and 'all that loves you': while ogata doesn't think much of the war they're in, he does see a holier-than-thou attitude in the way yuusaku refuses to kill. it's as if he's the only one who can and should keep his hands clean in an inherently dirty ordeal. yuusaku may not himself be an arrogant man, but arrogance does follow from his worldview.

there's a different, more sinister side to this i've explored in 'all that loves you', which i remember you (the author of the ask) (god i hope you're still reading) have read! the world is complex. you cannot let black-and-white thinking dictate your actions without eventually stumbling into a whole lot of harm, whether to others or to yourself. murder is a terrible act, yes. but some people need to be stopped, and for some of them, murder is the only way to do it. if you (the person reading this) haven't read 'all that loves you', it puts yuusaku's views to the test in this exact scenario. and the result is. well. quite fucked up. and it follows pretty seamlessly from what we see of yuusaku in canon, so make of that what you will.

speaking of which, you know how he tells ogata that people like him shouldn't exist while embracing him? also fucked up. yuusaku has the best of intentions, and there's not a chance in the world he has the awareness to go "ok not feeling the emotion of guilt doesn't inherently make you Wrong", but the fact remains: he assumes ogata shares his presumably universal morals and ends up playing right into his insecurity.

there's also yuusaku lacking the self-awareness to know that he's imposing on ogata with his affection. i'm extrapolating here, but i feel like yuusaku's simplistic worldview only allows for affection=good! desirable! and he doesn't stop to question whether it's welcome.

to that: a friend of mine has pointed out once that this astounding inability to read the room could be due to autism. genius take in my opinion. seeing how strong, rigid morals are also an autism thing, i'm convinced now that autism runs in the family. diversity win?

so yeah, to sum this all up, yuusaku has been set up to fail, and fail he did. he's naive, kind, well-intentioned, he's as much of a victim as his brother, but all sorts of messed up things follow from his beliefs and his actions.

and i just think that's neat.

[lancehenriksen]

Lance seems to have gotten new ink for his 84th birthday