#i have no idea why the defenders ended up in a little pile there but i'll allow it!

[whalepropaganda]

(February 3 - Whale at Riveters)

[jyoongim]

Hey there! My first time asking/making a request lol, but I had two separate ideas and you can just pick one or something.

First was an alastor w/ fem reader, it's mating season for red and this ones diff bc he's had his eyes on reader or smthn for a min and decides this season he's going to do his best to show off to her, lmao like "look look, I can provide and protect!" a bit intense bc it's mating season, but reader is CLUELESS until at some point it finally clicks and she's all "huh.. ohh SHIT"

Second idea was one that I thought would be funny, like so.. lucifer finds out Al likes reader and even tho he doesn't really like Al he's like " don't worry, I can definitely help with this" but he's lowkey a terrible wingman even tho miraculously it somehow helps in the end???

Again you can choose from either and end it however you want, fluff/nsfw/sfw. Or if none of this is your cup of tea then just ignore me!!

Not me on a fluff binge hehehhehe

hope you guys like it! I’ve been a bit slow to write and upload but I’ve enjoyed reading every request! I’m still taking a slight break but I try to give y’all SOMETHING. Hope y’all don’t mind!!

Lots of love-jyoongim

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Mating season.

Usually an awful time of year that made Alastor more on edge than usual.

But something was different this year…

This mating season, the deer demon wanted a partner….

Alastor had his sights on a pretty doe and he was going to ensure that she was going to be his for the season…

—————————————————————————

You rubbed the sleep out your eyes as you greeted everyone as you took a seat for breakfast.

Pancakes. Bacon. Sausage. Eggs. Fruits.

Your stomach rumbled at the delicious smells.

”Fine hellish day isn’t my dear?” Alastor chirped as he piled food fruits and meats on your plate. You blinked at the amount of food on your plate.

”Al my stomach is only so big” you giggled causing the demon to hum as he took a seat beside you.

”A full belly makes a happy doe” he smiled as you happily ate the food.

Alastor watched as you ate, a soft purr rumbling in his chest.

”Why don’t we go for an outing dear?” Alastor suggested as you let out a burp.

You agreed.

It was rather chilly for Hell.

You and Alastor waltz around the city. You happily looked at the displays in many windows. 

You didn’t know Alastor’s agenda but you didn’t mind accompanying him.

You must have lagged behind him a tad as a demon slithered up beside you as you looked over some jewelry.

”what’s a cute thing like you doing all alone?” A deep voice asked causing you jumped, surprised.

”O-Oh hi um I’m just looking that’s all” you gave a nervous smile. Your skiddish nature took over as you took a step back. The demon advanced on you. He was big, could easily overtake you if need be.

”Why don’t I show you around? I don’t see a ring. I can show you a good time” sharp teeth smiled at you menacingly.

Your ears flattened, you might be  small but you could defend yourself. You bared your teeth at the demon making him chuckle

”Now now little lady lets not get ugly” 

You hadn’t realized he had backed you into a corner.

The demon pounced, making you screech as he pinned you to the wall.

Your ears perked as heavy static buzzed through the air. The demon didn’t seem to notice 

 “You’ll make a fine piece of ass”

Black smoke poured through the alleyway and static popped.

”That’s no way to talk to a lady”

Black tentacles dragged the demon and blood-curdling screams escaped the demon, but were quickly silenced as Alastor ripped him apart.

”mine mine mine” Alastor growled as he chomped on the demon.

You gagged as chunks of flesh flew around.

Satisfied that the distasteful demon was in his belly, Alastor looked towards you.

A large sharp claw traced your face, he was growling but his eyes were soft. He morphed to be a bit smaller and helped you up, his red eyes roaming over you.

”I’m okay Al” you reassured giving him a smile. He seemed to calm down and looped your arm with his.

”dishonorable filfth” he hissed as he made his way back to the hotel. You pouted you really wanted to buy something but you’ve had enough excitement for one day.

You looked at Alastor and tilted your head “Al your antlers”

The usual small antlers were now big and standing tall on top his head.

”Nice rack” you giggled making the red demon smirk, his chest puffing proudly.

”than-thank you for all that. I really appreciate Al” you said sheepishly.

The tall demon hummed 

“Don’t mention it my dear. What kind of man would I be if I couldn’t protect you?”

——————————————————————————

Alastor had been lingering around you since the little accident. He had growled at anyone who got too close to you.

He was very possessive and protective of you, which you thought was sweet that the demon was worried about you.

You groaned as the sun peaked through your window. You sat up and you blinked in confusion.

Flowers, breakfast, and a tiny box.

Rest up little Doe ~Alastor

Your tail wagged in happiness. You don’t know why Alastor had been so attentive but you were eating it up.

You placed the flowers in a vase and began to eat breakfast.

Your face wrinkled as you pulled a piece of meat from your teeth.

what the fuck?

It was soft and fleshy. You shuddered but ate the rest of your breakfast. You opened the tiny box and keened when you saw the bracelet you had been looking at earlier in the week.

There were cute little radio themed charms.

You quickly cleaned up and went downstairs.

Charlie and Vaggie were sitting in the lobby chatting.

You smiled and waved, your bracelet caught Vaggie’s attention.

”Hey where you get that?” The question also caught Charlie’s attention, she immediately began gushing

”Oh my! Did Alastor get that for you? Omg so cute!”

Vaggie deadpanned “Alastor have been very cozy towards you what’s that about?”

You shrugged “I don’t know but it can’t be anything bad right?”

————————————————————————————-

“I see you got my gift” Alastor said, coming behind you as you red on the couch. You smiled “Its really nice Al but why the sudden gift giving?”

Alastor smiled “well my dear its mating season”

You blinked. Mating season? What did that have to do-

OH SHIT!

Your eyes widened “Y-You’ve been…”

His lips pulled into a genuine smile “Courting you? Why of course my dear!”

His hand circled the wrist with the bracelet. He brought it up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it.

Your body shuddered in delight and your ears flicked as he nipped at your fingers.

Your nose wrinkled at the smell of his pheromones, your tail wagging.

You let out a purr as you rubbed yourself against him and took off running, throwing a wink at him as he followed suit, giggling as he made a grab at your hips as you evaded him.

”Come and solidify your place Mr. Radio Demon” you teased slipping into his room.

A soft growl escaped Alastor as he followed you and had his shadow guard the door.

[freyaphoria]

Hi! I saw your post about the request and I enjoy all of your yandere stories. So, I had a thought of Seonghwa hunting his "little flower" in his mansion because she's hiding from him and he caught her hiding in a small closet in one of so many rooms in his mansion. I'll let you choose the ending but crashing a single bone would be perfect. Big luv for our author 💖💃🏻

Hi hi hello! Thank u! I liked your idea very much, but I don't know if I wrote it well. I hope you like it♡

Little Flower

tw: yandere seonghwa, escape attempt, restriction (chains), bone breaking, wrist twisting mentioned.

wc: 840

"Little flower, where are you?" Now you were really in trouble. You were in very, very big trouble.

For the first time, Seonghwa loosened the chains on your wrists because of your good behavior, and you took advantage of this to slip out of your chains and try to escape from him. You didn't really have the courage to run away; You just panicked and wanted to get away from the room you'd been stuck in for approximately 2 weeks.

"If you don't come out right now, you're going to be in a big trouble." You could hear his voice, but because the mansion was so big and you went out of your room for the first time, you didn't know the mansion, you didn't know where his voice was coming from.

You heard slow but firm footsteps coming towards you. You threw yourself into the first room you saw; It was a small warehouse. There was a small cabinet in front of you and a lot of items were piled next to the cabinet. You found a metal baseball bat among the items. You needed something to defend yourself if he found you, so you took the bat and hid in the closet.

"I'm really running out of patience, little flower. Come out when I count to three." His voice was so close that you tried to hold your breath because you were worried that he would hear your breathing.

"One," You started to shake. You held the metal baseball bat in your hand tightly. Your hands were sweating so much that the baseball bat was slipping from your hands. When it slipped from your hands and hit the door of the closet, you cursed under your breath.

"Two," His tone of voice had changed. Your ears were ringing from stress.

Once, when you threw food at him, he got so angry that he twisted your arm and you couldn't move it for a few days. Now that you had made the big mistake of hiding from him, you couldn't imagine how he would react.

"Two and a half," If you were playing hide and seek like a cute couple, you'd laugh when he said that. But right now, extending the count might be the one of the most scary thing he's ever done.

Suddenly there was silence for about thirty seconds. This time seemed like thirty hours to you. Your wish was that he would find you as soon as possible so that this torture would end.

"Three!" He suddenly opened the door and you jumped up and dropped the baseball bat in your hand to the ground. You wanted to throw yourself forward and escape from him, but he pushed you back by your chest and held you there for a moment. He held you back with one hand and picked up the bat on the ground with the other.

"What were you planning to do with this, huh? Hurt me and escape from here!?" His eyes were very scary. If you looked into his eyes any longer, you would start crying out of fear.

"Let me go!" You tried to pull his arm away from your chest with both hands, but he didn't even move. He grabbed the collar of his your shirt and dragged you out of the closet and into the hallway.

"Let you go? Are you crazy? Do you know what trouble I went through to bring you here?" He looked at the baseball bat in his right hand. At that moment you realized what he was going to do and you dug your nails into his arm holding you and made him pull his hand away, you ran downstairs. When you reached the outer door, you saw him slowly coming towards you. You forced the door but it wouldn't open. "Why..?" Your voice was shaking, eyes were filled with tears.

"Why? When you love a flower, don't you pick it and take it home?" He started twirling the baseball bat in his hand. "Won't you separate it from the other flowers, pluck it, put it in a vase at home and water it every day?" No, when I love a flower, I leave it to live there, you thought, but you were too afraid to say it.

You turned your back to him and tried to force the door open as if you were breaking it. "If you let go of the flower you picked and throw it outside, won't it wither and die?" You froze when you felt his hands on your waist. You couldn't move. "If I throw my little flower outside, she won't be able to take care of herself and she will die." He approached your neck and kissed behind your ear. "That's why I won't let you go, little flower."

He stepped back; You turned your face to him and were about to start begging when he raised his baseball bat and hit you hard on your leg. You heard the sound of bone breaking before your scream.

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 6

chapter 5 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 7

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after months in the wilderness, you finally arrive at chicago. adapting to this new life has its cons, but also its perks. joel's birthday is around the corner, and you have planned for a couple of things you hope he likes...

a/n: hiya! here's chapter six!! it's packed with a bit of everything, especially drama because why not? 🤷 i want to thank you all ― i just realised that the first 3 chapters have hit over 100 notes each! i'm so damn grateful to all of you, honestly. as much as i'm writing for myself, i'm loving how hooked some of you are with this story 😳 also, i'd like to apologise in advance if i have butchered chicago's layout or its history, i did try my best doing some research. as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

warnings: 18+, mdni. mention of Sarah's death. angst. fluff. filthy smut (don't you know me by now?). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). irresponsible use of contraception (don't do that). consensual somnophilia. dry humping. unprotected piv. masturbation (m and f). creampie. pussy slapping. fisting. squirting. cum play. a bit of assplay. makeup sex. sir kink. “bar” fight. alcohol consumption. blood. stabbing. swear words. mention of past racist events and the precursor to the chicago race riot of 1919. soft!dom!joel. a bit of aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is now 37 (🎉!). no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~6.9k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz

Chicago was definitely not what you had expected at all. Shit had gone down really badly in this place. It took you a week to cross the southwest area, keeping close to Interstate 55 as a reference. The worst you had seen was Chicago Midway International Airport. Airplanes had crashed on the runway, the esplanade was a makeshift cemetery even almost a year after Outbreak Day. Bodies piled on top of each other, fires would break out in the adjacent buildings. The control tower was completely dilapidated. And the grounds were full of clickers.

Tommy, Joel and you made it through the worst neighbourhoods. As you covered more miles, Tommy and Joel realised that this had not been the best idea. But you were already there, so the best option was to move forward. You all had to defend yourselves, and each other. Although the Miller brothers took out many attackers ―humans and infected alike―, you also had your good share of action. You didn’t like it, but you were good at shooting. Your clothes were stained with blood and sweat. You endured, and you survived. That was what mattered.

The whole city was in shambles, divided by two different groups: the government and the rebels. The government held the north side of the Chicago River, from River North Gallery District all the way to Old Town ― basically everything to the east of Interstate 90. The rebels, on the other hand, controlled the south ― all the movable bridges along the whole Wacker Drive, from New Eastside to Chinatown. Anything further south or north, and between Interstates 55 and 90, from Little Village to Naperville, was no man’s land.

You ended up on the rebels’ side randomly. Tommy was not very happy about it, blaming the communists for overpowering the government, but it wasn’t like you had a choice. If you tried to cross any bridge to go northwards, you would be shot at with no warning. From both sides.

It took a while to convince the Rioters ― that was how the rebels called themselves. Two weeks later, on the 20th of August, you were given a place to stay near the Art Institute of Chicago, which was also the operations base. You did try to integrate yourself in this society as you knew it was better to have more friends than foes. The Millers, however, kept to themselves ― Joel more than Tommy, as you had expected. No surprises there.

The flat you were in was in urgent need of repairs but was better than sleeping rough. You and Joel fixed as many things as you both could, while Tommy took cleaning very seriously. It wasn’t much, but it was the place you called home for the last month. The only downside was that it only had two bedrooms, so Joel and you sadly had to share the only double bed available, while Tommy had his own room.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself ― the last four weeks had been pure bliss in a sense. Waking up every day besides Joel had become a delightful habit. He had awakened you many a times either in the middle of the night or in the early morning to give him a hand. Literally. And you had done exactly the same thing when you had needed it. You were sure Tommy was sick and tired of you two, but you didn’t care.

You stretched out, still lying in bed. The morning light had not come through the curtains yet, but it soon would. You rubbed your eyes and then let your arms drop to your sides dramatically. You were not a morning person, but your sleeping schedule was all fucked up. You rolled to your other side in an attempt to get comfortable.

Joel was sleeping on his right side. You had noticed he usually did in the same position. When you had asked him why, he had explained his hearing in his right ear was messed up since his suicide attempt. You wished you could have been faster that day to prevent the gun from going off. Ah, the regrets you both had…

His back was towards you, him facing the door. Despite the repairs you all had done to the flat, it was still not the safest. Every night one of you would make sure all locks were engaged and would bar the front door. A few days ago, someone attempted to break in. Since then, all of you would sleep with a firearm nearby.

Today was Sunday ― 26th of September. Which meant it was Joel’s birthday, as well as the first anniversary of Outbreak Day. The anniversary of Sarah's death would be tomorrow too. You had tried to talk to Joel about today, but he didn’t seem to be interested in celebrating at all, which you completely understood. As much as you wanted to do something, you respected his decision. You had only planned for a couple of low-key things, which you hoped he wouldn’t mind.

He had fallen asleep only with his briefs on, the bedsheet draping around his legs. You couldn’t see, but you were damn sure he had his arms crossed at his chest, always on guard. Your eyes dwelled on his upper body, two perfect dimples on his lower back. His shoulders were broad and toned, his waist smaller. He was not the most muscular guy you had ever seen, but he was perfect the way he was. His calloused hands had shown you multiple times how good he was for you, despite what he thought of himself.

You couldn’t resist, your mouth dry. Your fingertips traced the curve of his neck, then his left shoulder down to his elbow. Your hand caressed his left hip and slipped down to his front, following his V line. Your fingers touched the elastic of his briefs ― and something else.

You gulped down the knot in your throat, your heart beating harder in your chest, when your fingertips brushed over the damp tip of his cock. Joel’s morning wood was so prominent, his glans had slipped out of his underwear and was showing. You wetted your lips as you stroked him carefully. A deep, almost guttural growl flowed from Joel’s chest.

You got closer to him in bed, your nipples grazing the skin on his back even through your pyjamas. It probably wasn’t the best time ― you knew he was tired, but you wanted him so badly. Liquid fire was pooling in your furrow, knowing his erection was right there for you to play with.

Your internal battle didn’t last long.

You pulled down his briefs to free his warm dick. You didn’t need to look to know his shaft was resting against his happy trail, the head touching his belly button. With no hesitation, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, squeezing him delicately. Then you slid your hand down his meaty column, holding him firmly, in a very slow but strong pump.

He groaned, still asleep as far as you could tell, as you started pumping him ― more heat and excitement gathering in your pussy. You dunked your fingers in your panties, touching yourself. You were already wet, the mere thought of making him yours was enough. You kissed his left shoulder at the same time he uncrossed his arms ― his left hand over yours, feeling the rhythm you were imparting on him.

He was awake.

Joel didn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he was sure it wasn’t this. When he looked down and saw your tiny hand trying to muffle his cock, he closed his eyes with a sigh. That felt damn good. He was knackered after last night’s patrolling shift, but this was exactly what he needed to decompress.

He turned around, his back flat against the uncomfortable mattress. His eyes were pinned on yours, your sweet hand upping the speed. You leaned towards him and invaded his mouth with your devilish tongue. Joel moaned in the middle of the kiss ― his brain completely switched off. He could not think straight when you were handling him like that.

Quickly letting go of his erection and mouth, you got rid of your pyjama shorts and your underwear. Then you doubled down your efforts with the handjob ― his throbbing cock was calling for you. You could see a few drops of precum sliding off his veiny shaft, which you swiftly gathered with your thumb to rub them against his leaking slit. You felt his dick pulsating hard for you ― your cunt palpitating at exactly the same time, anticipating. Your bodies were fully synchronised.

You then climbed on top of him, his balls welcoming the touch from your puffy lips. You rolled your hips against his, looking for that friction you so much loved, and took a deep breath before taking off the top of your pyjamas, throwing it to one side. You bended down, your mouth looking for his, so thirsty.

“Good morning, handsome”, you whispered as a greeting.

“Mhmmm”, was the only thing he managed to hum, sleepy.

You smiled and broke off the contact, straightening your back. His rough hands slid from your knees, across your thighs, to your butt. He clasped your ass cheeks with assertiveness. With no more words than those, you took his steely cock in your hand and lifted your hips. You glided his glans over your damp fold a few times, your cunt beseeching to be stuffed.

You guided his tip to kiss your entrance and descended on his dick slowly, very slowly, the palms of your hands flat against his lower abdomen to steady yourself. You closed your eyes, head tilted backwards, and whined loudly. Each inch was a blessing. Once his cock was entirely inside of you, you peeked back down at him and did a circular motion with your hips. His eyes were so intense you couldn’t look away while you started riding him.

Joel closed his eyes unwillingly when the muscles in his lower belly cramped. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this, so forced himself to open them again ― he loved seeing how the pleasure transformed your beautiful features. Your half-lidded eyes, your lips parted, a river of pearly sweat coming down in between your bosom. Your perfectly round breasts bouncing in front of him. He was a lucky bastard.

He liberated your ass, his hands drifting to your bust, holding your tits. While he kneaded that tender flesh and coddled your nipples, you covered his hands with yours. You were still jumping on top of him, albeit more erratically, as you felt an orgasm hit you with full force. You mewled as your needy pussy discharged the seed of your pleasure all over him, hugging his hard erection, strangling his cock, encouraging him to come with you.

Joel was so damn close to coming, his nuts contracted with equal parts of pain and lust. He could feel your gush soaking his dick. He was about to lose his goddamn mind ― he needed to stop. His hands abandoned your breasts to place them on your butt to help you lift it up, so you would release his cock before it was too late.

“No, it’s okay. Fill me up, please, sir”, you wailed, your palms against his chest, your hips grinding against his.

Joel glimpsed at you with doubt. It was like you could read his mind, because you knew what he was thinking. You smiled softly, your wet pussy palpitating around his cock. You forced your inner walls to contract against him as you leaned forward to kiss him.

“I’ve got the morning after pill. Please, please, Joel, come inside, I beg you. Trust me”, you wept, laying down on top of him.

He thought himself mad for believing you, but he did. Because he was mad for you, regardless of what he tried to convince himself of. He lifted your butt up off his lap with his hands ― with the help of his legs, the heels of his feet against the bedsheets, he thrusted into you like a madman while you remained still on top of him. Drilling your weeping cunt, as hard and fast as he could. He just wanted to know how it felt just once; he wanted you to milk him dry.

Joel fucked you like there was no tomorrow, the room echoing with the squishy sounds and the impact of flesh on flesh. He was fucking you so hard that you came again at the same time he spilled his spent in you ― Joel groaned like you never heard him before. The slick warmth you felt inside made you smile, your face buried in the curve of his neck, your nipples brushing his. With his pulsing dick still inside of you, you bit the skin on his neck, leaving a mark behind.

“Happy birthday, sir”, you whispered in his ear.

That was your gift to him. And to yourself, because you had wanted this from the very first time he impaled you in the forest. You had had to trade a few bits for the morning after pill, but it was worth every single one of them. You felt your cave so clogged with him and his cum, you thought you had descended to hell.

You both stilled, catching your breaths. His dick was still twitching, housed by your greedy, soaked cunt.

A minute later, he sat up on the bed, bit your mouth and lifted your butt up, his cock becoming free. He quickly laid you down in fetal position ― resting on your righthand side, back slightly curved, head bowed, your knees bent touching your breasts. He placed a hand on your left hip and tilted your pelvis a bit forward, so he could inspect your heart-shaped ass and your puffy, reddened pussy framed by your inner thighs.

Just in time to see his cum gushing out of your hole, dripping across your perineum and then going downwards, skidding through your butt cheek. One of his digits caught the semen before it hit the bedsheets, retraced its steps back and shoved the cum back inside of you with the push of his finger.

“You can’t waste my gift to you, baby, it’d be so fucking rude of you”, he purred in your ear, his voice coarse and warm at the same time.

He laid on his side behind you, moving his index in a circular motion, looking for your g-spot and finding it. He stroked it dextrously, sliding it in and out slowly. You closed your eyes, and fisted the bedsheet in your hand, trying to hold onto something. Your mouth shaped a perfect ‘O’ when he bottomed out, quickly adding a second finger. And a third. Then a fourth.

It didn’t take long for your pussy to adjust to such delightful intrusion ― your inner walls felt like clay, reshaping around him. Joel could feel you relax around his fingers and took the chance, introducing his thumb in your pussy too. Now his entire hand was buried in your fluttering cunt, down to his wrist. He remained still for a hot minute while your muscles loosened up to house him.

Then he slowly started to pump his fist inside of you, back and forth, building up a steady pace. Joel bit your shoulder and then kissed it ― his tongue tasting the saltiness of your sweat.

By that point you couldn’t stop moaning very loudly ― the whole building was probably listening to your whoring screams as Joel fisted you relentlessly with his whole hand. Each push propelling his cum further inside of you as if he wanted it to take. He was thrusting you so harsh, your entire body was rocking back and forth on the bed. He was fucking you senseless just with his hand ― and you were loving every single second of it.

Your sticky cunt couldn’t take it for much longer ― it was wet, pulsating, contracting, overstimulated, yearning… Your pussy literally was his, and only his. The orgasm had been building up for so long now that when you let it go, weeping at the top of your lungs, it hit you like a motherfucking truck. Your whole body went into shock while you squirted ― you were shaking due to the force of your own release. For fuck’s sake, you could barely breathe.

You whimpered again when he removed his hand and rubbed your wetness all over your delicate folds. Before you could form a coherent thought, he spanked you on your crotch so firmly it tingled ― you almost died and went to heaven right there and then, biting into the pillow underneath your head. He kept on slapping your quivering cunt until your sensitive clit twitched one last time with devastating pleasure, contracting your uterus so the last trickle of cum oozed out of you. He caught it with his thumb and brushed it gently against your asshole, caressing the tight ring, until you fully relaxed.

You sighed, unable to move. You even felt dizzy. Your limbs felt so limp you didn’t think you could sit up, so you just stayed there, melting against the bedsheets. You hadn’t realised your eyes had welled up until a few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of complete, utter joy ― there was no other way of describing it.

You were so damn grateful for this man, you swore to yourself you would never let him go. You had been with others, but none of your sexual partners had been so fucking attentive. Joel would always make sure you were completely satisfied, without fail. And that said a lot about him.

You rolled onto your back to look at him, wiping away the tears with a satisfied smile and dreamy eyes. He was still lying down on his side, his elbow against the bed, his head resting on the palm of his hand. He returned your smile ― such gesture transforming his rugged face. So gorgeous it tugged at your heart.

“Y’know, it was supposed to be all the way around today ― me fucking you until you begged”, you confessed, although it was not a complaint.

He grinned, his hand possessively cupping your mound. You parted your legs slightly so he could massage your sensitive furrow. It felt so calming after all that pussy-slapping he gifted you with.

“As redundant as it sounds, plans rarely go according to plan, sweetheart”.

Understatement of the fucking year, you thought.

You just laughed while his hand was still kneading your sticky flaps. Joel kissed your forehead before he took out his hand from in between your legs, your damp, intimate skin being swept by the cold air.

“The morning after pill?”, he asked a minute later.

“I got it from Kelsey, it’s in date. Don’t panic, it’s okay. I have three days to take it. Which made me think… I don’t need to do it straight away, right?”, you glanced up at him, a wide smile on your lips.

“Mhmm, I mean, it would be a waste otherwise, I guess”, he replied, tucking a stray hairlock behind your ear. “But I need a minute here, darlin’. You work miracles, but even I have limits. Wait up”, he mumbled grumpily as he palmed his left wrist, and then got out of bed while he tucked away his member back in his briefs.

Joel headed towards the en-suite bathroom. He came back out only a few seconds later ― you could see panic in his eyes. You sat back up on the mattress quickly.

“What is it, Joel?”, you asked with worry, kneeling on the bed.

“My wristwatch, I can’t find it. I am sure I left it by the sink before I came to bed last night. I can’t lose it. I can’t”, he was now frantically searching his bedside table, panic growing in his tone.

You bit down your lip, because you knew where it was. In the drawer of your nightstand. You had taken it in the middle of the night because your second present was getting it repaired for him today.

“I have it”, you whispered, shrugging with an apologetic smile.

“What? Why?”, he approached you, extending his hand towards you, his tone so serious. “Give it back now”, he almost growled at you.

His reaction took you completely off guard. Why was he so possessive over a broken watch? Trying to understand the sudden change in Joel, you opened the drawer and took it out.

“I just wanted to get it fixed for you, as a gift”, you didn’t understand what was happening.

“You have not fixed it, have you?! Because if you have―”, he snatched it off your hand, inspecting it.

You frowned ― his attitude towards you was completely off. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t you dare touch my fucking things, is that clear?”, he snapped.

You looked at him blankly, speechless. Then your own temperament started to shimmer under the surface.

“Wow, wow, wow ― Calm the fuck down, Joel. It’s just a broken, useless watch―”, you stopped yourself because of his perplexed look.

“Shut up. It’s not just any watch. You don’t fucking understand”, he yapped.

“I would try and understand if you just fucking explained it to me?!”, you shouted at him while you got dressed. “What is your fucking problem, Joel? What’s up with that watch? I don’t read minds!”.

“Forget it”, he grumbled, strapping the watch to his wrist before putting his trousers on and grabbing a T-shirt, heading towards the door.

“That’s it? You just up and leave?”, you repressed the urge of throwing a pillow to his head.

“I’ve got stuff to do”, he muttered.

A few seconds later, you heard him opening the front door. Then he slammed it shut.

It was around lunchtime now and you had not seen Joel since this catastrophic morning. While you had the impression that Joel’s reaction was due to something he would not speak about, he had no fucking right to treat you that way. You were just trying to do something nice for him, that was all.

You walked through the main hallway of the Art Institute of Chicago. It was rammed with people running around ― some armed, some not. You didn’t think that humanity would prevail in big groups in such circumstances, but it did.

The Rioters had established some sort of order. People had tasks to do, everyone working together to build up a community. Chores were allocated according to people’s skills. Joel had been put on patrolling shifts, Tommy was helping with carpentry and other building jobs, and you were in the hunting group. As much as you hated pulling the trigger, you were a very good shot. All thanks to your good old Texan father.

You were on your way to check with the group if there were any plans of going out today when you got interrupted.

“Hey”, someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“What’s up, Joyce?”, you looked at the older woman when you turned around.

Joyce was around fifty five years of age, maybe more, and was the kindest soul you had ever met. She had welcomed you to Chicago like a mother a daughter. Joyce showed you around, explained how the Rioters worked and guided you in the right direction. Because as good as everything looked, there was still darkness lurking around.

She was also the best cook ever. Like, no jokes, she could transform a tasteless rabbit in the most flavourful stew your tastebuds had ever been in contact with.

“I just finished cooking, do you want some stew?”, she asked with a warm smile.

Your stomach growled at the mere idea.

“Fuck yeah”, you replied ― your duties could wait, surely.

“Watch your language, kiddo”, Joyce reprimanded you.

“Sorry, sorry”, all that time you spent with Joel was showing.

You followed her to the canteen and patiently waited for Joyce to pour some stew in a bowl. You then went with her to a table where more people were sat down. You didn’t know any of them, so Joyce introduced you. You were damn sure you weren’t going to remember one single name by the time you walked out the door.

“So, you’ve never heard the story of Eugene Williams?”, one of the men asked rhetorically to a younger fellow across the table, who shook his head in reply. “He was a black kid in 1919, when racial segregation was still in place here in Chicago. The summer of 1919 was so hot the kid wandered off to the white side of Chicago beach without realising. A man threw stones at him until the kid drowned and died. That was what ignited the Chicago Race Riot of 1919 ― and why we, the resistance, go by the Rioters”.

You listened to every word while you ate your meal. After hearing that explanation, many things made sense. Although they named themselves the Rioters, there were no riots in the streets ― actually, people seemed happy here, given the circumstances.

“That’s right, Walter, younger people need to learn about the past, so those mistakes are never repeated again”, said Joyce.

The conversation then moved on to present times, the people talking about the continuous fight against the so-called government.

Joel got the afternoon patrolling shift that day, which he thought was a killer, considering he did the night shift last night. But it was good in a sense ― it would keep his mind occupied. You had angered him so much this morning, it had set his mood for the rest of the day. The thought of you erasing that memory had maddened him so bad, he had to walk out before he said something he would later regret.

That watch was the only anchor chaining him to what little remained of his humanity. A gentle reminder of what could have been but wasn’t. Every day he wondered how Sarah would be doing in this new world. And most days, he was just somewhat grateful she wasn’t here to see what had become of civilisation. The unspeakable horrors she would have witnessed and suffered but didn’t ― it was very little consolation to a father, but it was better than nothing.

He absentmindedly touched the watch on his wrist, ensuring it was properly fastened.

Joel was stationed with other people in front of Bataan-Corregidor Memorial Bridge. In those long, never-ending hours, there was no activity on the other side of the bridge, but they had to remain vigilant nonetheless. By the time the next group showed up, it was already half eight in the evening.

Joel headed towards the headquarters to sign off and go home. He was already on edge, thinking about what he would say to you to appease you. Because he was damn sure you would be waiting for him, ready to pick up the fight where you both left it. As Joel walked past the canteen, he heard a familiar voice.

Tommy was on his feet, yelling at a man, his accusatory index pointing to the guy. Joel rolled the eyes to the back of his head ― he was sure his brother was so drunk he would probably not remember any of this the next day. Joel shook his head with disappointment ― some things would never change, not even when the world had gone to shit.

He planned to ignore the situation and get back home to you, when a fight started. Joel groaned in despair, debating what to do. But a man chose for him ― he saw how a bloke approached Tommy from behind, knife on hand, and he knew he had to do something. Joel quickly closed the distance in stride and grabbed the man from the neck of his shirt, pulling him backwards until the dude stumbled with his own feet.

Madness broke out, the whole canteen becoming a battling ground. People were fighting each other over absolutely nothing, throwing punches in the air.

“Tommy!”, he shouted angrily, while the younger Miller turned around and simply smiled.

That fucking pissed him off big time.

“Are you fucking out of your mind? How much have you been drinking?!”, Joel wanted to punch his brother so bad, he really had to control himself.

“Not enough”, he babbled.

As Joel approached his brother, ready to fight him if necessary, the man he had pushed away from Tommy tapped his shoulder. When Joel turned around, the dude punched him in the face and then stabbed him in the lower stomach.

Joel froze for a second, his back slightly curved, his brain coming to terms with what just had happened. He looked down while his hand gripped the handle of the knife. He knew not to remove it because it was the blade what prevented him from bleeding out. Then Joel glanced back up at the same guy and, without thinking, he removed the knife from his flesh and sticked it on the man’s shoulder with a growl.

Joel’s wound started to bleed like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Not that he noticed anyway, because hell literally broke loose.

It wasn’t late late, only ten in the evening, but none of the brothers was around when you returned home, which was weird. You could understand if Joel was avoiding you, but Tommy? You frowned as you called for them, shutting the main door behind you. Nothing, no reply at all.

Before you could walk to the living room to see if there was a note or something, someone knocked on the door.

You looked through the peephole. Joyce was standing outside, worry wrinkling her aged face. You opened the door.

“What’s the matter, Joyce?”

“It’s Joel, he’s in the infirmary”, she whispered while placing a soft hand on your forearm.

You just stared at her, bewildered.

“Huh? The where?”, you repeated, while her words started to sink in, your stomach contracting with fear.

“Come with me, kiddo”, Joyce took your hand, guiding you through the apartment building.

The next time you blinked, you were in an outbuilding outside the headquarters. Joyce palmed your hand with hers, in a calming gesture, while she took you to the far end of the shelter. The old lady planted you in front of Joel’s bed, and let go of you with a “take care”.

You stood there for a long minute, still trying to grasp what the hell had happened. He was asleep, his head slightly tilted away from you ― or so you hoped he was. Joel had no shirt on, a bloody bandage covering the right side of his abdomen. You got closer, your heart pounding in your throat.

“He’s fine, it’s just a scratch”, you looked up, befuddled.

Tommy was sitting in a plastic chair on the other side of the bed. He was crouching forwards, his elbow against his knee, head pressing against the palm of his hand. Tommy then smiled, which completely perplexed you.

You were about to reply, but suddenly Joel did instead.

“Fuck off, Tommy. Get your ass somewhere else”, he gritted his teeth.

You hadn’t noticed it yet, but you had been holding your breath, because suddenly you felt a stone being lifted off your chest. You glanced at the younger Miller, who had gotten up with a smile. When he walked past you to go outside, you smelled it. The stench of alcohol made you wrinkle your nose unconsciously.

Joel wrapped his fingers around your wrist to get your attention, so you turned around to look at him, so confused you couldn’t even form a sentence. Joel had already adjusted the pillow on his back so he could be somewhat sat up.

“It’s alright, no need to cry”, he said raising one of his hands to sweep away your tears.

You had not realised you were crying. Giving it a second thought, you probably had been since you left home. You pursed your lips and nodded, quietening your sobs.

“What…?”, you muttered, resting your cheek against his palm before placing a kiss on it.

“Tommy got into a fight in the canteen. He’s so drunk he probably won’t remember a thing tomorrow. A man tried to stab him, and I got in the way ― that’s all, sweetheart. No serious damage, just some stitches”, he tried to calm you.

You wished Tommy was still in the room, because you would have loved to slap the shit out of him for being so irresponsible. What the hell was he thinking? Joel was hurt because of him, and he had just left smiling as if it wasn’t so serious.

“Just leave him be, it’s worthless trying to speak to him in such a state”, something in Joel’s voice told you this wasn’t the first time he had been in this situation.

“Are you sure you’re fine? Joel, please, don’t lie to me―”, you mustered, trying to keep your tears in check, as you caressed his cheek.

He heavily sighed as he scooted over to one end of the tiny bed, leaving enough space for you to join him. You got on the gurney quickly, nestling against him, your arm across his chest in a half embrace. His body heat calmed your nerves a bit, although your hands were still shaking.

“I’m fine, I’m not lying. They won’t let me leave yet though, the nurse said I need to stay here for a couple of hours, until she’s certain the bleeding has stopped”, he explained, his fingertips tracing the shape of your right shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you said with a small voice, your left cheek against his chest.

Joel didn’t fight you on that, so you stayed by his side. His left hand was resting just below your face, his broken watch strapped around his wrist. You bowed your head a bit and kissed his knuckles.

“I’m sorry about this morning, I thought fixing your watch was a nice thing to do, considering it’s been broken since I met you”, you tried to explain yourself, but Joel hushed you by cupping your chin so your eyes would meet his.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I know you meant well. It’s just…”, you heard him gulp down, as if the next words were extremely painful to say out loud. “Sarah fixed this watch for me on my last birthday. It’s been stuck at 2.40 AM since… since we both got shot. One of the bullets broke it”, he recounted in a husked voice, his brown eyes focused on the timeless sphere.

Then it hit you. That was Sarah’s time of death. And, unknowingly, you almost ruined the last memento Joel possessed of his daughter. His most precious treasure. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of being responsible for such a thing. Had you known, you would have never even considered doing what you had planned.

“Gosh, Joel, I’m sorry. I swear to you I didn’t know”, you breathed out desperately.

“I know, baby. I should have told you that instead of getting angry and for that I apologise, but I just couldn’t…”, he clenched his jaw, and you tried to soften his expression with the touch of your fingers.

“Don’t apologise, please”, you kissed his bearded jaw and remained in comfortable silence for the next two hours, until Joel was finally discharged.

The next day you both stayed home. Tommy had tried to apologise when he came back to his senses, but Joel was having none of it. The younger Miller eventually understood that his brother just needed space until he decided to forgive him and gave up in his efforts. You were alone with Joel all day, making sure he was okay and helping him clean the wound. Those stitches were going to leave a nasty scar on him, but it was better than the alternative. It was healing well, no signs of infection, for which you were so pleased ― probably more than him. You almost had to tie him to the bed so he would stop fidgeting around ― Joel was going to get the wound open again if he didn’t remain still for a bit.

You knew Joel was just trying to keep his brain busy because this day marked a year since Sarah was wrongly snatched from his life. That was why he was so taciturn and quiet today, and you let him be for the most part.

When he sat down on the couch in the afternoon, you just nestled against his body, in silence, his arm affectionately enveloping you.

Nighttime came around soon enough, and you both got into bed. Joel spooned you as soon as he laid down behind you, his right arm hugging you, his chest against your back. You soon fell asleep in his warm embrace, feeling protected and content.

Joel woke up a few hours later, one of his recurrent nightmares haunting him. He grumbled in displeasure and got out of bed to change the dressing over the wound. He did so efficiently and returned to bed, slipping under the bedsheets quietly.

Another hour went by, and he was still awake, his eyes on the ceiling.

He rolled onto his left side and saw you sleeping peacefully, in the exact same position you fell asleep. You had not moved one inch. Joel smiled softly as he got closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and dragging you over to him, looking for your soothing warmth.

Unconsciously, you wiggled your hips to bury your butt in his bulge, and Joel contained a pitiful moan. Your perfectly round ass was innocently embedded in his groin. Now he was sure as hell he was not going to be able to fall back asleep. Irremediably, he pressed his manhood against your buttocks again, looking for that friction.

Joel felt his cock tense up, an erection taking hold. He freed his manhood, slowly pumping himself ― his leaky tip brushing your asscheek until a wet patch adorned your panties. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t resist. You were all curled up, drooling on the pillow, faintly snoring, your knees slightly bent. He cut the distance between you and shoved his dick in your thigh gap, his shaft rubbing against your pussy covered by your underwear.

Sweat gathered on his brow as he rocked his pelvis back and forth, your thighs sweetly compressing his cock ― the tip feeling cold when it overhung on the other side. Joel kissed your shoulder, his hand gently placed on your hip to steady himself.

“C’mon, baby, wake up”, he husked near your ear, gently nibbling your earlobe.

You hummed, half awake. You felt your body being rocked, your eyes fluttering open and looking downwards. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Joel’s glans sticking out through your thigh nook, then disappearing from sight to reappear again. You smiled pleasantly, shutting your eyes, as you felt your needy cunt melt for him. You pursed your lips with delight.

“Can I have my birthday present again, sweetheart?”, he whispered in a constrained tone.

You nodded, scatterbrained.

You were drenching your underwear so bad, there was a visible damp, darken spot right in the middle. Joel pulled back from in between your legs and pushed the bridge of your panties to one side. He lodged his cock in between your puffy lips, sliding it through your entire slit a couple of times to douse himself with your fluids.

“You’re soaking wet, baby”, he muttered as you let out a soft moan when Joel pressed his tip against your dripping hole, your flesh parting as the Red Sea.

Then Joel slowly pushed his hard cock in inch by inch down to his balls. His right arm hugged you, poising you in place and sneaking his hand under your pyjama top to hold one of your full breasts. He stilled for a second, feeling your cunt sheathing him like a warm glove. He thrusted once, twice, thrice. You lost count after that, Joel plunging into you from behind, gaining erratic speed. You grasped the bedsheet in your fist, your spit pooling on the pillowcase.

You placed a hand on your mound and a few seconds later, you slipped it under your panties. With the palm against your clit to cause some grinding, you could feel Joel coming in and out of you in between your index and middle fingers. Your gushing cunt started palpitating around his slick cock, your inner walls squeezing him hard as you came, mewling like a kitten in heat.

Joel quickly followed you, his cum filling you up, breathing roughly behind you. You tilted your head towards your right to look at him over your shoulder. He kissed you, first gently, then more demanding, while his dick was still throbbing with the last wave of his release. Joel pinched your nipple before freeing your mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart, so you don’t forget who you and your tight pussy belong to”, he groaned as he pulled out of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you said gratefully.

Joel put your underwear back in place and pressed the palm of his hand against your wet panties, his cum trickling out with yours and swamping the piece of clothing even more, saturating it, almost as if you had pissed yourself.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’”, he kissed the nape of your neck, his hand still lodged in your thigh gap, hard pressed against your satisfied, clothed pussy. You loved how possessive he was of you, literally claiming your cunt for himself at every chance he got.

With a pleased sigh, you tucked your hands under your head and fell back asleep within seconds.

The earth was round again.

[icequeenlila]

Context: They are roommates and currently on first base. Bradley is half naked an Max is a tease.

What the hell was fish sauce? And what do you use it for?

Bradley would know. He was the master cook after all.

Max made sure to put everything into the right place. The spaghetti into the pasta drawer, the vegetables into the assigned compartment inside the fridge.

In the end he still had a pile with stuff he didn't know where to sort. He just put it all onto the small table by the kitchen window, where Bradley would easily find it.

He was just about to get bored when he heard the click of a lock behind him.

He spun around, a smile automatically forming on his lips. Just the thought of seeing Bradley made his skin tingle with anticipation.

He spoke before he had even fully turned around. "Hey, what hell is fish sau- "

The last word got stuck in his throat when he laid his eyes on Bradley.

The boy was frozen mid movement, shoulders drawn slightly as if he had tried to sneak out of the bathroom and into his own room without Max noticing. Max had an idea why.

A teasing smirk tugged at his lips. Bradley was completely naked but for a small towel around his narrow hips.

"Why, hello there", Max said with a slight cock of his head. He didn't even pretend not to stare. The sight was too exquisite.

"Forgot to bring fresh clothes", Bradley muttered. "The big towels are still in the dryer."

He turned to face Max, both of his hands behind his lower back, probably holding together what little fabric there was. There was a beautiful blush on his face and Max watched with delight as it traveled down his neck and lower.

"Not complaining here", he said, not able to stop the teasing grin from spreading.

"You know, a gentleman would turn around", Bradley muttered, an embarrassed frown on his face.

"Mmh", Max mused.

I'd rather have you turn around, he thought. But he didn't say it out loud. He had sworn himself not to make Bradley uncomfortable.

Bradley was fucking gorgeous. His entire frame was slim. Sharp collar bones and pointy shoulders. Narrow waist and the v of his hips perfectly visible thanks to the low sitting towel. He was all toned muscles and soft skin, slightly rosy from the shower and his spreading blush.

"Max", he hissed, the muscles of his belly flexing and unflexing with embarrassment.

Fucking hot, Max thought.

It was hard to tear his eyes away, but when he finally did, he found Bradley's face tinged a deep red.

“You could just walk away, you know?”, he grinned, knowing damn well that he was pushing it. He couldn’t help it. Bradley’s flushed skin was too intoxicating a sight, especially now that it crept down to his chest.

Max actually tried to keep his eyes from those pretty, perky nipples. He wasn’t an animal, but God was it hard not to stare.

“Goof”, Bradley warned. “This is a very small towel.” He raised his brows at Max to get his point across. “If you get what I mean.”

Oh, Max totally got what he meant, and despite biting the inside of his cheek he couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up from his chest. Just as Bradley’s brows threatened to pull tight again, Max held up his hands in defeat.

“Okay, okay, I get it”, he giggled, enjoying one last glance of Bradley’s beautifully flushed body, before covering both his eyes. “Just for the record, you’re gorgeous.” And with that he turned around to give Bradley some extra privacy.

“And you’re shameless”, Bradley muttered, but Max didn’t need to actually see him to imagine the beautiful red on his cheeks.

He said nothing to defend himself. Bradley was right after all.

+

From chapter 7 of 'Good Luck, Babe!' on ao3.

[chenoehi]

been thinking thoughts about KH3, MoM theories, etc a lot lately and this is my current brain rot:

All the Org XIII ancient keyblade wielders seem to treat Sora with either derision or kindness.

Eg. Marluxia and Luxord are friendly to Sora when they’re fading away. Marluxia thanks him and Luxord gives him a card to help him. Luxord was arguably never unkind to Sora prior but he was still antagonistic. Larxene isn’t kind per se but she shows a different side briefly and even smiles at him in the end, which for her actually seemed genuine.

Meanwhile you have Xigbar/Luxu and Demyx. Both of which are, frankly, bastards (affectionately! I love them your honor) to Sora in KH2, DDD, and KH3 even when they don’t need to be. Like, just thinking about Xigbar antagonizing the shit out of Sora in KH2/Radiant Garden and like Cardi B I’m wondering what was tf reason.

Based on what we know of him now, we can make educated guesses as to why he acts that way — his character file is illuminating and offers a lot of insight as to why he may feel differently about Sora, in addition to how nosey af we know Luxu is.

Demyx initially acts friendly but that’s really just him addressing Roxas imo which he makes pretty obvious by speaking directly to Roxas in KH2. And while he was objectively terrible to Roxas in terms of ditching him on missions in Days, he was never actually rude or unkind to him that I remember. For the most part he’s friendly with him both in game and in comics (that I know of). And he seemed alright with Xion.

Sora? Nah. He’s sarcastic as shit and while I love me some barbs, I tend to agree with the opinion that sarcasm is veiled contempt.

In fact contempt is the word I feel fits best for how both Xigbar and Demyx act/feel toward Sora.

But Riku? Demyx calls out to him in Remind and starts talking like they’re besties, he smiles at him softly — which is not at all weird or like his soft smile for Ienzo, no not similar in the slightest — and he gets up in his personal space, which, while not entirely unusual for Demyx, is in contrast to his interactions with Sora. It’s made a little creepy by the odd familiarity with which he’s treating someone he’s supposedly just met — and not even properly. (it’s actually crazy to me but rn I’m realizing the org members almost never introduce themselves to anyone lol Sora has no idea who these people are, like he literally doesn’t know what to call them so he just says “it’s org 13” bc names? what’s a name?)

And this single solitary interaction between Riku-Demyx for me is all just so strange because there’s few people on record in the games that Demyx is actually friendly toward. Xigbar, Ienzo, Roxas, maybe Xion, now Riku. That’s an ..interesting mix. I’m not counting Vexen because dude was finding every excuse to walk away from science boy in RG before getting sucked into the scheme via manipulation (and arguably his own ego, cause you know, he’s the only one who could pull it off bc no one would suspect him). He literally claims himself that he had no real friends outside of Xigbar and we know that association alone is 👀 At one point Axel speaks somewhat kindly of him, but then Demyx was saying how much quieter it was and how he’s glad the loudmouths were unalived in Castle Oblivion. Not very neighborly of him, but then again Axel and Zexion were friendly enough to bet on who’d die next only for Axel to axe (aheh) him so a lot of that backstabbing shit went on. So maybe he was cool with Axel but clearly not enough to be friends with him, even though he apparently wanted friends. (On another note, I still find it super odd Axel chose to defend Demyx to Roxas instead of piling on, we never even saw them interact. It’s weird.)

It’s unfortunate we don’t get to see Xigbar/Luxu interact with Riku on his own but, like with Demyx, I think he would be less bastardly than he is with Sora. Maybe it’s a keyblade master thing, maybe Riku’s just earned more respect, or maybe he just can’t stand that Sora is the ‘hero’ putting others (Riku et al) in danger constantly by needing to be rescued or protected — at least from Xigbar/Luxu’s perspective.

[modelbus]

Sorry if this is confusing this is the first request I ever made.

I was wondering if you could do a Wilbur soot x fem or gn reader (romantic)

Where it’s the like the very beginning of the relationship and you’re helping him model for his next merch drop then he sees you in the merch and his is like “OoOooHhhhHH mY GOodnESS I WANt tO maRrY You!!”

This would 100% happen and nobody can convince me otherwise.

Pairing: CC!Wilbur x Fem!Reader (romantic)

My Merch

"You are the best for doing this." Are the first words out of Wilbur's mouth when you show up at his flat. He's grinning at you, leaning on his doorframe.

"You can always show your gratitude by giving me free merch." You answer, ducking under his arm to enter. He laughs, shutting the door and following you into his living room area.

"As if you weren't going to get free merch just for being my girlfriend."

You shrug, secretly thrilled at hearing him call you that. He hasn't been your official boyfriend for too long, so just hearing that gives you butterflies. It feels like love.

"What's the plan?"

Wilbur had texted you exactly twenty-four minutes ago panicking about not having a female model for his merch. Being the only one who actually thinks logically in your relationship, you volunteered to model with him. It'd be fun!

"I have a blank wall and a phone camera, so that should be good enough. Photoshop exists for a reason, and I'm still logged into Tommy's account he uses for thumbnails."

"If it works." You shrug.

"It should. Thank you so fucking much for this. You have no idea how much it means to me."

"I wasn't doing anything, why not be with you?"

His grin widens, cheeks dusting a light pink. "Okay. You can change in my room, I put the merch in there. Just dig through the piles until you find your size, they aren't organized at all."

"Of course they aren't." You sigh.

"I was a bit busy panicking to organize them all!" He defends himself.

For some reason that makes you laugh, heading into his room and softly shutting the door. Sure enough, there are four large piles of different merch near his closet. Statistically speaking, your size couldn't be too hard to find.

Luck is on your side because you find your size in everything fairly quickly. He didn't tell you which one to wear first so you just grab the one closest to you and throw it on. Pausing momentarily to fix your hair in the mirror on his wall, you head out to him.

"Walking down the runway is I, Wilbur Soot's personal merch model." You joke, doing a little twirl at the end of the hallway to show off the sweater.

Wilbur's eyes are wide, staring at you. He's silent for far too long, not even seeming to be having a coherent thought.

"Wil?" You ask, a little confused. "What's wrong?"

"You look stunning." He blurts out. "Wow. I need to kiss you, like, right now."

Relieved, you laugh and walk up to him. He doesn't seem to be moving any time soon with how he's still staring at you.

You loop your arms around his neck and his instinctively go around your waist. When you lean up, he tilts his head down to meet your lips in a long kiss.

"You're getting five hundred pieces of my merch." He swears when you pull away.

"I look that good, huh?" You tease.

"Yes," Wilbur answers seriously. "Fucking- yes."

Taken off guard, your lips part in surprise. You didn't expect him to answer so quickly, and certainly not so reverently. He takes his chance to kiss you again.

"Are you going to take any photos or just kiss me the entire time? Not that I'm complaining."

"Who says I can't do both?" He asks. “You know I love you, right?”

Although you’re not exactly sure where he’s going with this, it still makes you feel like a little kid with a crush.

“And I love you.” You respond, fully meaning it.

“Remember that in a year or two for me.”

“What?” He smiles at you in response. “Wait, what does that mean?!”

“Photo time!”

“Wilbur!”

[letmereadinpeace4]

I finally played through The Turnabout Serenade and yes, I can totally get why it is considered one of the worst cases in the franchise (Turnabout Big Top is still rank 1 for me, simply because it makes no sense AND I hated everybody). There are good things in that case : I liked the mixing board parts, even if the performance/music was a little too long, some twists were genuinely good and I liked getting a better look at Klavier's life. With that being said :

Machi being the defendant makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Yes, he wasn't blind and could speak English, but they didn't know that when they arrested him. The premise for at least the first half of the case was that the prosecution honestly believed that a fifteen-year-old BLIND teenager somehow managed to shoot a far bigger man with a gun with a high caliber, and somehow, despite two people arriving on the scene seconds after the shooting, managed to get out of sight, climb a ladder, get in an air vent, and crawl to another place, and some time later managed to drag a body on stage, and then passed out on the platform for no apparent reasons, all of that without anyone seeing or hearing him. I know that we've had twisted plans from culprits before in the Ace Attorney franchise, but this one makes absolutely no sense!

The twist that the shooting took place in the second act and not the third one is clever at first glance, until you realize that Lamiroir was apparently so stupid that she didn't realize that the shooting taking place when Machi WAS ON STAGE was fucking relevant! And when she said "no one asked me... and I didn't understand why I wouldn't be able to hear anything if the window was closed...", what she couldn't volunteer the information?? Fot the boy she claims to consider her son?

Lamiroir being blind and not Machi was just stupid! There was simply no good reason for it. They try to justify it with some marketing "Lamiroir-is-the-painter-of-landscapes" nonsense but I don't buy it.

The case draaaaaaags so much! The greater part of the first part of the second-day-trial is to figure out the "magic trick" behind the disappearing act, a trick that the witness, the prosecution and the assistant know! And somehow protecting a magician's secret (not contractually I might add, it was just an oath) was more important than saving a teenager's life.

I don't buy the resolution/moral of the case. Apparently, this case was meant to prove that the justice system was flawed because it relied too much on evidence and thus protected the culprits. But first, this is the first case where this is a problem, and second, I get that evidence can be twisted to write the story you want, but I don't see an alternative that wouldn't have serious drawbacks. I get that it's meant to be an introduction to the jury system that Phoenix will implement in the next case, but still, it doesn't sound right to me. Third, correct me if I'm wrong but they would have had actual evidence if the police/prosecution did their job properly, like not piling up on the fifteen-year-old teenager, for example. If anything, this case shows that cases go to trial far too quickly and don't give enough time for the police and the prosecution to investigate properly and explore different alternatives, which is a far bigger problem to me.

The more I write, the more Lamiroir pisses me off, which I'm actually sad about because I feel like I was meant to like her. At the end, when she says that some darkness seems to have taken hold of Machi, bitch please, you don't know why he needed the money, and excuse him for trying to save a life, even if it went against the laws.

So far, I don't hate Apollo Justice (the game, not the character. I like the character) but I am starting to agree that the execution isn't great. I like many of the new ideas and the new characters, but the execution is... flawed. At this point, I am mostly going through the motions until I get to the next game and hopefully have a better time (I can't wait to meet Athena).

[mixelation]

i attempted to write some sasori girl au. however it turned out less zany than intended??? anyway new lore ahead

Tori stayed up late reading The Book, only to fall asleep on the couch. As per what usually happened when she did that, she was woken by someone shoving her off the couch. 

Tori made some inarticulate noise from the floor and she watched her attacker prop his feet up on the coffee table above her. The Book was still clutched to her chest. The sound of the TV filled the room, and a pale arm set a mug on the coffee table. 

“You know Sasori lives with you,” Hidan said, staring down at her. “You don’t have to read a book about him like a weird freak.”

“Takes one to know one,” Tori mumbled back, rolling herself over to crawl out from between the coffee table and the couch. Hidan kicked the back of her thigh as she went, because of course he did. 

Hidan had a good point, though. Sasori should still be around the hideout. 

“Why are you reading that garbage?” Sasori demanded when she showed up in his workshop. He paused in the middle of setting a bunch of disembodied arms out on his workbench, looking her up and down critically. “Also, I told you to cover your hair when you sleep. You destroy your curls.”

Tori was sure she looked like a mess. She didn’t care. 

“You gave this lady an interview,” she said, cutting straight to the chase and waving the book at Sasori. “Or at least she says you did.”

A lot of people wrote into the official Sasori mailing list with crazy nonsense, about how their second cousin met him and learned his favorite fruit was peaches or something. There was no reason the author of The Book hadn’t also written a bunch of crazy bullshit. 

Sasori eyed the book with a look of deep disdain. 

“I was young,” he replied, and then turned back to his arm pile. 

“You did?” Tori repeated, voice louder than she meant. This was an incredible, horrible discovery. This meant that Sasori had sat down with the original Sasori girl and answered questions and basically implicitly given her the go-ahead to write her vaguely horny Sasori biography. 

Tori continued, “Have you read it?”

Sasori’s hand froze over a skeletal arm that had a bunch of metal spikes sticking out of it. 

“Are you about to describe it in excruciating detail to me?” he spat out, eyeing Tori like she was some sort of horrible offense to nature. 

“Just a summary,” Tori defended. “So you know the context. You said you liked when I explained things.”

His exact words had been something mocking about her being every Intelligent agent’s dream, because she offered up information so easily and thoroughly with very little prompting. 

“I said your enemies would like it,” Sasori snapped back. “I hadn’t yet realized your entire personality was actually a series of advanced torture techniques. Hold this.”

Sasori had Tori hold various arms, because apparently she was roughly the same proportions as his next puppet, and he wanted an idea for scale of various modifications. This meant that he did let her explain The Book, which was a very long and meandering biography of Sasori that ended up being banned in Wind Country. It was obviously heavily dialed back in places, to make Suna seem more powerful and Sasori seem less terrifying, and yet all of this had utterly failed to hide the desperate hard-on the biographer clearly had for him. 

An angelic face, she’d written. Tori supposed this was true, if you were unaware of the personality that went along with the face. 

Which, like, if she’d interviewed him, how could she not have noticed he was a mean, violent, awful man?

“Hold it up higher,” Sasori commanded. 

“Arms are heavy,” Tori complained. “Why’d you do the interview?”

Sasori reached over and pressed his hand under the wrist of the puppet arm Tori was holding, raising it up while he glared thoughtfully at it. 

“I left Suna to seek artistic freedom,” Sasori said after a beat, pulling the arm out of Tori’s hand and replacing it with another. “I thought maybe having another person who understood would assist with artistic catharsis.”

That was… surprisingly sentimental, actually. Tori felt something tug at her heartstrings. She hadn’t realized she could still feel like this. 

“Of course, I was young and foolish,” Sasori said, taking a step back to frown at the silhouette Tori cut with the puppet arms. “That woman asked useless, frivolous questions. What did she say about me?”

The chapter containing the interview was honestly the weirdest one. If Tori read individual lines of the dialogue, they did seem like things Sasori would say. He’d talked about art and beauty, and offered up a criticism of the teahouse decor that the biographer had found charming. 

The thing was, this was all spliced around descriptions of how lovely Sasori was. The biographer waxed poetic about his exotic hair, the blush of freckles over the bridge of his nose, how casual and handsome he looked seated in this quaint little teahouse. She’d gone on for a very long time about how he was used to the refined teahouses of Wind Country with their plush carpets and gold-threaded pillows, and she’d contemplated how hard leaving must have been for him. She’d described his mannerisms with her and the waitstaff as polite and friendly, which was hilarious. 

She also must have cut a lot of what he actually said about art, because there was only surface-level statements on things lasting forever and no mention of playing dress-up with people’s corpses. Most RPF writers made him a painter, wandering the world to paint…. frescos or some shit. 

“I didn’t show her my art because it rapidly became apparent she wouldn’t understand,” Sasori said plainly when Tori described the borderline humor in her romanticization of his art. “Although, yes, it sounds like she omitted some of what I said.”

He handed her another arm and then started fucking around with its elbow, adjusting the length of it. 

“You don’t seem mad about it,” Tori observed, watching him work. The forearm was all metal canisters– some sort of weapon. Her own arm was getting sore from holding it up. 

“Why should I care what some nobody writes about me?” Sasori asked. 

“Aren’t you your own best art?” Tori replied, her eyes glued to how his hands worked. “I know you don’t like when people don’t interact with art correctly. Isn’t it even worse if the art is yours?”

Sasori believed it was the responsibility of the beholder of art to bring themselves to the experience of art as it was meant to be experienced. Deidara thought it was the artist’s job to force a viewer to experience art the way the artist intended. It was a whole thing. 

Sasori popped one of the canisters in the arm free and rolled it over in his hands. 

“I don’t like it when people misrepresent you,” Tori tried. 

Sasori snorted, setting the canister on his work bench and then reaching forward to further adjust the length of the puppet arm.

“You don’t like it when you see anything at all is represented in a way you feel is disingenuous,” Sasori told her. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”

[ikeromantic]

The Old Switcheroo, pt 2

Arthur and MC (Haruko) are cursed and end up in each other's bodies. Part 2 of 3. Approx words. 3400. Yes, it is long - I had too much fun with the concept. TW for sexual harassment, gender dysphoric descriptions. Tagging @tele86 and @briars7 @greinny123 requested

The Old Switcheroo Part 1

Haruko was not having a good time. The stack of crumpled paper in the wastebin grew while her remaining confidence dwindled. It turned out that writing was a bit like work. All she’d accomplished was polishing off a small pile of fudge and two cups of coffee. The blank page in the typewriter still mocked her. 

“You coming or am I on my own today?” 

Theo’s voice startled her out of her funk. Haruko jumped off Arthur’s stool and nearly fell. Damn long legs, she thought. Easy to trip over. 

Theo chuckled. “On edge?”

“No. No, I’m fine. I was just . . . writing something scary.” Arthur’s voice sounded less certain than usual, but Theo didn’t seem to notice the change. 

“Should I leave you to it then?”

Haruko cleared her throat. “Nah. I’m tapped out for today. Let’s go.” She grabbed Arthur’s coat and scarf and followed Theo out. It was only when the carriage door shut that she realized she had no idea what Arthur and Theo talked about on these little outings. Women? Art? Politics?

“You missed a good breakfast this morning. Sebas outdid himself on those pancakes. Even Napoleon had seconds.” Theo grinned. “Hondje was a little off though. Kept calling everyone ‘old chap’ and ‘luv’. I think you’re teaching her bad habits.”

“Uh, no he’s - I mean, I’m not! She’s probably just having a bit of fun with you.”

“Maybe.” Theo allowed. “She looked tired though. And clumsier than normal.”

“I am not - she is not clumsy.” Haruko tried not to be too indignant. Would Arthur be? She wasn’t sure. He did like to tease her, but always kindly. 

Theo chuckled. “Defending your little bird? Well, you’re right. Hondje is usually more careful. I expect you’re to blame.” His blue eyes were inquisitive and challenging, as if he expected some sort of specific answer out of Arthur.

Haruko thought for a moment on what she would expect Arthur to say and then forced a laugh. “Uh, I might have kept the skirt up too late with my, um, with my . . .” Her face heated as she tried to find a way to finish that sentence. One she could convince herself to say aloud.

“You look sick. Are you sure you want to go out?”

“I’m fine. Just . . . tired. From the. You know.” Arthur’s hands flailed in the air as Haruko tried to make a gesture that implied something sexual.

“Right.” Theo raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, I’m meeting some artists at the tavern. There’s one I think you’ll want to meet. If you aren’t too tired.”

Haruko’s heart froze for a moment. Was Theo trying to hook her man up with other ladies? Is this what they did when they went out alone? A flash of anger boiled away her embarrassment. “I’m never too tired,” she replied, baring her teeth in a smile.

The tavern was bustling as usual, and the two of them had to elbow their way through a crowd. Haruko was surprised how easy it was to get through in Arthur’s body. He was so strong, and when he gave people a hard look, they moved! As herself, she just had to squeeze past or ask nicely and hope they were polite. 

“Why are you smiling,” Theo asked as they took their usual seats at the bar. 

“Hm? No reason. Excited to meet your artist friend, I guess.”

The Dutchman shook his head. “You are one weird klootzak sometimes.” He signaled the bartended for drinks. “They aren’t here yet, but it looks like your fanclub is.”

“My . . . fanclub?” Haruko followed Theo’s gaze, landing at a large round table. Women sat around it. Working girls, to be more specific. Dressed in faded finery, last year’s fashion with tattered edges, smiles painted on their faces and false laughter on their lips. 

That Arthur would cheat on her with these girls . . . paying . . . what did they have that she lacked? Was it just that they knew all of the - the bedroom stuff? 

The ladies noticed her looking and one got up and sauntered over. She had an amazing figure. Statuesque, with large breasts and round hips, and very long legs. She walked like a dancer. 

Haruko waited to see if she would feel the same stirring and hunger she’d felt in Arthur’s body that morning but . . . there was nothing. Not even a hint. Not even when the woman leaned forward to kiss her cheeks in greeting. 

“Arthur! You scabby dog! I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Off your leash again?”

“My . . . leash?”

She laughed. “The one your lady keeps you on.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Don’t play coy. You use it as an excuse every time you scoot out on us.”

“Right. Ah. My leash.” She felt her anger bubble up again. 

The woman shrugged. “I won’t tease. She sounds like a nice enough girl and she puts up with you for free.” She leaned against the bar and picked up Arthur’s whiskey, downing it in one swallow before he had a chance to drink it. 

Haruko tried to smile flirtatiously like Arthur would. “So, are we going to . . . do what we normally do? Me and you? Luv?” 

“What we usually do? Oh Arthur, you are so funny sometimes.” She patted his cheek. “I just wanted to come over and say thanks again for the walk home the other night. Me and the girls really appreciated it. I can’t think what might have happened if you weren’t there.”

“Oh? So I went home with all of you?” Haruko’s brows rose. 

She laughed again. “You do gallant deeds so often you can’t keep them straight? Well, if you don’t remember, I don’t need to be grateful, right?” She poked his chest lightly.

Haruko coughed. “I was a little . . . drunk?”

“Well, you were that. But you walked just fine. And whatever you said to those two brutes beforehand, they haven’t bothered us since. So even if you don’t remember, it’s appreciated.”

The woman gave Haruko what looked like a genuine smile. “I wish there were more gents like you. If ever your lady friend tires of you, I hope you remember the girls and I will be happy to let you cash in all your favors at once. You’ve racked up quite a few and you’ve yet to let us repay you in any way.”

“I haven’t?” Haruko blinked in surprise. She’d imagined Arthur would take whatever was on offer. And these ladies had clearly offered. 

She grinned. “Now you’re having me on. Of course not. You even turned down Serafine, and she’s my prettiest girl. You really don’t remember that?” Her eyes narrowed.

Theo rescued Haruko from the exchange. “Arthur’s not feeling himself tonight, Genevieve. He had a real long, tiring day. Writing.”

The woman’s brows rose. “Oh! Well, I suppose writers are allowed a bit of eccentricity. Anywho, we’ll talk later. I must see to my girls.” She blew them a kiss and walked away.

“What is wrong with you?” Theo grabbed Arthur’s shoulder and forced him to meet his gaze.

“N-nothing?”

Theo didn’t blink or shift or let Arthur���s shoulder loose.

Haruko took a deep breath. “Le Comte said we shouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Since when do you listen to him? You never had a problem breaking his rules.” 

“It’s . . . this is different. You have to trust me.” It was funny, saying those words with Arthur’s mouth, when she had such a hard time trusting him too.

Theo scowled. “Fine. I trust you. But you’d better have an explanation for me later.” He let go. “And don’t embarrass me in front of my clients.”

Harujo nodded. She wasn’t sure what she should or shouldn’t do, but she would try her best. Being Arthur at a tavern was harder than she’d expected. 

The Dutchman’s guests arrived soon after, a jostling and noisy bunch of men. She felt a certain relief that none of them were women. Theo wasn’t such a bastard after all. A mean tease, but not a bastard. 

A round of loud, enthusiastic greetings between Theo and the newly arrived group took up several minutes. Haruko downed a bit of liquid courage as she watched them exchange kisses and back-slapping, joking insults and genuine sentiment. Then she was pulled into the mix. Subjected to the same, with Theo introducing her as ‘the smart-ass writer’. She did her best to flash them Arthur’s winning smile and friendly greeting. 

The last one in the group was another Dutchman by the name of Willem. His grip was firm and his smile was almost maniacal as he said, “So you’re the guy that beat Theo at chess. It’s about time I got to meet you. That kloothommel has been trouncing me at every game since we were kids!” 

“Oh! Yes. I uh - I love chess! I love beating Theo at it.” Haruko tried to think of what Arthur might say, and then added, ‘old chap’ even though Willem was not old.

Willem laughed. “Glad someone’s there to show him his place. I don’t suppose you’d teach me your technique?” 

“A - a master never reveals their secrets.” Haruko barely knew how to play chess. There was no way she was giving tips to this guy. She’d need at least another glass or two of whiskey to try that. Maybe more. It didn’t seem to hit Arthur the way it hit her when she drank.

“Ah, come on! At least let us watch you play him! Maybe I can pick something up.” Willem looked to the others. “Don’t you want to see a game between these two?”

Theo frowned. “What are you on about? We didn’t come out here to play chess.”

Haruko nodded, but her agreement was lost in the enthusiasm of the other artists.

“I’d like to see it,” one said. “Yeah, it’d be fun to bet on,” said another.

The barkeep pulled out an old, well-used chessboard to several cheers. 

“Oh. I really - I don’t think - that is -” Haruko started to panic as several other tavern guests came to watch, including the evening ladies. This was not good. She absolutely could not do this. 

Theo, on the other hand, had a vicious smile. He knew something was different with his friend and he was very much looking forward to trouncing him at chess on an off day. With an audience. 

Haruko took a breath. There had to be a way out of this. Maybe she could pass out? Start a fight? Guys did that, right? Or just run . . . she glanced toward the door. “Er? What about . . .” She paused, an idea blossoming in her panic-saturated brain. “Why watch me play him all by myself when we could take him on together?”

“What?” Willem blinked at her.

“I mean, why don’t we play as teams. Team Theo versus Team Arthur. We can collaborate on our - our moves.” Haruko tried to plead with her eyes. She had no idea what Arthur’s face looked like making that expression, but if it was the one he made at her when he wanted another nip of fudge or just a few more minutes in bed, then it had to work.

Several of the gathered audience members didn’t wait for an official agreement. They started calling out their sides, grouping behind Theo or Arthur. Willem grinned. “Guess I’m Team Arthur tonight.” He slung a friendly arm across Arthur’s shoulders. “Let’s make Theo cry.”

***

Arthur felt like every part of him was tired. He barely had a moment to himself, running from task to task, always with Sebas on his tail. His feet were sore, his back hurt, his hands were dry and chapped. After a day of doing Haruko’s work, he was beginning to think she really was magic. How did she do all of this and keep smiling?!

His final task of the day was to run into town and pick up their groceries. He had a list, written in Sebastian’s tight, neat script, access to the carriage, and the money to cover the expense. Easy enough. And a bit of a break from Sebas. He rubbed his forehead in memory of the day’s many thumps.

The carriage let him off at the corner of the market street. There were some gentleman waiting for a hansome cab, wearing proper hats and fine vests. Arthur gave them a nod as he hopped off the carriage stair.

One of the men gave a low whistle and waggled his brows. The other laughed, and said loudly, “Why lady, what a lovely bounce to your chest! I hope you take every stair just like that!”

Arthur grimaced. “Keep your eyes to yourself, scrub!” 

The man took a step forward. “What did you call me, hussy?”

Arthur balled up his fist only to remember how small and delicate it was. Rather than reply, he snorted and began to walk away. But the now-angry-man followed. 

“Apologize to me you little chit. How dare you speak to me like that, when I tendered you a compliment.” 

An unfamiliar fear took root in Arthur’s gut. One born of the realization he was fragile - Haruko was fragile. He’d never been afraid to walk alone, to speak his mind, to answer insult to insult. But as Haruko, everything had a different feel. A danger to it that he had not expected.

“I’m going to make you sorry.” The man shouted after him.

“Let her go Freddy! You’re scaring the daylights out of her,” the whistling friend intervened. “Let’s just get our cab and go.”

The angry man frowned. “Fine,” he muttered, and shouted at Haruko’s retreating back once more. “Don’t forget the lesson, slattern.” They walked off, already laughing as if nothing had happened.

When Arthur was well away from them, he leaned back against the building, breathing hard. “I am never letting Haruko out on her own again,” he said quietly. Once he had himself back under control, he made his way into the market.

Catcalls followed his trek from one shop to another as he picked up meat and cheese, pasta and vegetables. He didn’t respond to them. Not again. 

The last shop on his list was a little bakery. He went in, his head down, his heart heavy. Why had Haruko never told him it was like this for her? He knew men liked to call out - he’d even been guilty of such a time or two. Never again though. Not after feeling what it was like to be on the receiving end.

The smell of warm, fresh bread soothed his jangled nerves. He looked up to see a young man smiling brightly at him. 

“Haru! I was hoping you’d stop in today!” 

“Oh?” Arthur’s malaise at the treatment of women faded in the face of his curiosity. Who was this gent who knew his lady by a nickname. “Were you looking forward to seeing me?”

“I was.” His smile widened. “I experimented with my creme recipe. I want you to try it out. If you hadn’t come, I would have to eat the batch myself! Or worse . . . admit it to Monsier Park!”

Park was the owner of the bakery, Arthur reasoned. The shop was called Park’s Pain. “I see. Well then, let’s have it, luv.”

The boy blushed brightly, his scattering of freckles standing out. “Love? Wh-why would say that, Haru? Just call me Jack, ok?”

It was quite clear to Arthur that this shopkeep had a little crush on his Haruko. But he bet she didn’t realize. It would be cute, except that she was his girl. A little spike of wicked jealousy speared his gut. “Sure thing, Jack. So. Where is this new invention?”

Jack led Arthur to the back of the shop. It smelled of spices and yeast and butter. There was a small table with a little ashtray. Two rickety chairs were propped against it. Arthur sat down in one.

The baker brought out little chocolate rolls. The creme inside them was a little green, rather than the usual white or buttery off-white. Jack set them down on the table with a flourish and then sat in the other chair.

Arthur picked up one of the rolls and sniffed it. He wanted to make some witty insulting comment, but the thing honestly smelled delicious. He took a tentative bite and was surprised by the minty spiciness of the creme. “What - what is in this, old chap?”

Jack laughed. “I can tell by you face that you like it. That's good. I packed you a little box of them to take home.” He picked up one of the ones on the plate and popped it into his own mouth, chewing slowly. After he swallowed, he answered. “I put some ground mint and a touch of coriander into the creme. I don’t like the color but the taste is a perfect match to the rich cocoa, don’t you think?”

“It is.” Arthur sighed. He hated it. It was too good.  

“Here, let me get you some coffee to wash it down.” Jack stood up.

“I could use a smoke too, if you don’t mind.” 

“You smoke, Haru?” Jack’s brows rose. 

Arthur gave a wicked grin. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought, hm?” 

Jack scratched his chin. I guess not. I don’t mind though.” He fished out a hand-rolled cigarette and handed her a match, then went to pour the coffee.

Arthur lit the cig and stuck it between his lips for a drag. He didn’t smoke all the time, but after the tension of his market walk, this one was well-earned. Except . . . when he took a mouthful of smoke, he began to cough and choke. His throat burned and his eyes watered. 

“Ah, Haru? You ok?” Jack set down the coffee.

“Y-yeah,” Arthur squeaked. “Not my usual brand.” He tried to laugh and coughed some more. 

Jack grinned. “Sure. Anyway, I added cream and sugar to your coffee but let me know if you want it more sweet.”

Cream. And sugar. In his beloved black coffee. Travesty! Arthur gazed into it’s milky depths and then drank it down anyway. He needed to soothe his burning throat. 

While Arthur sipped the abomination of sweetened coffee, Jack rattled on about his day. The weird customers he had, his boss, and so on. Arthur didn’t say much, which seemed to surprise the baker. 

“You sure are quiet today. Something up? Did your boyfriend cheat on you again?” Jack leaned forward, keen on the answer.

“I never - I mean, he doesn’t do that! He would never cheat on me!” Arthur was aghast. Did she really think that?

Jack shrugged. “Well you said last week that he didn’t come home until sun-up. And I can’t imagine what else a man would be up to when he stays out all night.” He reached across to pat her hand. “I’m here, if you need to talk, you know?”

Arthur jerked Haruko’s hand back. “She - that is I - don’t need to talk to you about our relationship! Arthur would never cheat on me. I trust him.”

“I know you do. I just - I worry about you. You should be happy. With a guy that treasures you enough to come home on time and shower you with love.” Jack smiled. “And maybe some tasty baked treats.”

Arthur wanted to snap back, but Jack’s words hit a nerve. Haruko did deserve a man that came home to her instead of making her worry. One that showed her how much he adored her. “You aren’t wrong, old chap. You aren’t wrong.” He stood up. “I need to get back.”

Jack sighed. “Alright. Let me pack up your order and the creme rolls I made you.” 

The whole ride back to the mansion, Arthur lost himself in thought. He never considered there might be someone else vying for Haruko’s affection so sincerely. Nor had he known what it was like to be a girl alone. He felt like he’d got so much wrong. And he wasn’t sure where to go right with it. All he knew was that he loved Haruko more than anything and he had to let that love guide him.

Next: The Sweet Ending

[https-harlow]

Christmas Eve

Summary- How you and Jack spend Christmas Eve with Paisley and Olive

Word Count- 800

“Santa’s coming tonight!” Paisley cheered, while Olive looked over at you.

“Tonight?” Olive asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, tonight. It’s Christmas eve.” You explained and Olive nodded.

“That’s why were making cookies, so we can leave cookies out for Santa.” Jack said as he rolled out some cookie dough while you put the cookies onto a cookie sheet. 

“And Milk! Don’t forget the reindeer too.” Paisley reminded you both.

“We have carrots for the reindeer. Should we leave them inside, or outside?” You asked Paisley while Jack helped Olive use a cookie cutter to make a shape out of the cookie dough.

“Outside, 9 reindeer aren’t going to fit inside.” Paisley said, pressing her cookie cutter into the cookie dough.

“Outside it is then.” You agreed with her. 

“Do you remember what you asked Santa for?” Jack asked and both girls nodded.

“A slide!” Olive said excitedly.

“Do you think Santa’s going to bring you a slide?” Jack asked and Olive nodded.

“Yeah!”

“I asked for a dollhouse!” Paisley reminded you two.

“Do you think Santa’s going to bring a dollhouse?” Jack asked and Paisley nodded.

“I’ve been good, so yes.��� Paisley said as you put some cookies into the oven. Setting the cookies that were already done to the side as you got out some icing and sprinkles you got to decorate the cookies. You set everything up while Jack, Paisley, and Olive made cookies out of the rest of the dough. Once you had enough cookies you set some out for the girls to start decorating.

Paisley spread some icing on the cookies, decorating them as carefully as she could with some of the sprinkles and M&M’s you put out, while Olive tried to pile as much icing on her cookies as she could. You and Jack even decorated a couple cookies while helping the girls.

“Santa is going to love them!” Olive said and Paisley nodded in agreement, looking up at her little sister’s cookies.

“That’s a lot of icing.” Paisley said and Olive shrugged.

“That’s my favorite.” Olive defended her cookies. You could barely see the cookies underneath the pile of icing.

“I wonder if Santa likes icing or the cookie more.” Paisley said and Olive let out a small gasp at the idea someone would like the cookie part more than the icing.

“Icing, like me!”

“I think he likes the cookie like I do.” Paisley said.

“I think he probably likes both.” Jack said before the girls could start arguing about what part of the cookie was the best, it was a common argument in your house recently.

Both girls took their time decorating their cookies before they finished.

“Okay, pick out which one you want to leave out for Santa.” You told them, they both picked out their favorite cookie so you could put it aside before letting them both eat a cookie or two themselves.

“Do you want to go look at Christmas lights?” Jack asked the girls once they were done with their cookies and they both nodded excitedly. 

The four of you put your coats on before you started to walk around your neighborhood, Paisley and Olive excitedly pointing out the houses that were decorated. Olive got tired halfway through, wanting Jack to carry her, which he did.

Olive eventually fell asleep with her head on Jack’s shoulder and Paisley got tired also, so you all decided to make your way back home. Jack woke up Olive to take her jacket off once you got home. The four of you setting out the cookies and milk for Santa and some carrots on the back porch for the reindeer.  

“Do you want to pick a movie to watch before bed?” You asked while Jack took Olive upstairs so she could go back to sleep, and Paisley nodded excitedly.

“Let’s watch Rudolph!” She suggested and you agreed, getting the blankets and pillows set up on the couch for your mini movie night. You and Paisley got comfortable before waiting for Jack. 

Once Jack got back, he hung up his and Olive’s jackets before joining you two on the couch, Paisley laying in-between you and Jack. Towards the end of the movie, Paisley fell asleep as well, Jack carrying her to bed once the movie was over before joining you back in the living room.

“That was easier than I thought it would be.” Jack said and laughed softly.

“Told you that between a movie and looking at Christmas lights they would both be asleep.” You teased. It wasn’t easy to get either of the girls to bed, they always got hyper before bed. Especially when they were already excited.

“You were right.” Jack admitted. “I knew I married you for a reason.” Jack teased as he smirked, making you playfully roll your eyes as Jack walked over to you and kissed you.

You and Jack spent the rest of the night getting everything ready for Christmas before going to bed yourselves.

Taglist @jackharloww @harlowcomehome

[xaeyrnofnbe]

batch #2 of jrwi fics i WOULD write if i had the confidence or motivation to (once again you can 100% take inspiration from these ideas, it’s not like i’ll be writing them. go nuts)

my entire bitb good ending au, where the bayou boys make all the right choices, save the day, and get the hell out of galloway to go live their lives in peace. but maybe what happened in galloway galloway wasn’t the last time they’d have to deal with all that. (this is actually the closest i’ve come to actually writing. i’ve got a pretty solid story in mind? it would be several chapters with some additional things thrown in as well.)

something with chip and captain jasmine drake. i’m still pretty surprised by the lack of fan content surrounding them tbh

jrwi kids crossover! ollie from riptide, bookworm from prime defenders, and rachel rand (?) from blood in the bayou all meet and go on a little adventure together or something. maybe there’s a mystery to solve

albatrio get caught in a idk. magic… thing? that makes time all funky. they get separated and meet the child versions of one of their co-captains at a really angsty moment, and comfort them. (chip meets kid gillion having a hard time after his training, gillion meets kid jay after having one of her toys broken by her father, jay meets kid chip, still in rags on the streets.)

with the captains gone, the rest of the riptide crew get up to shenanigans. this would be sort of a slice of life thing. mostly just gryffon, alphonz and drey trying very hard to parent ollie, who makes parenting very difficult what with his mischievous nature and. well. superstrength.

bitb riptide crossover. the bayou boys are like wtf why are we in dungeons and dragons. chip jrwi thinks he’s found his long-lost uncle. nobody knows how to break it to him that that’s ridiculous.

after being cured of his nightmare curse, at some point probably after getting back from the feywild, chip is still terrified of falling asleep. cue pirate captain cuddle pile to help him out.

[kaaragen]

All righty, my thoughts on Ahsoka!

I think it's okay. I enjoyed watching it, and I like being around the characters again. There are a lot of things that have 'cause for concern' but I'm going to withhold final judgement until I see how it plays out. Filoni is definitely Lucas' Padawan - in that he can't direct actors for shit, pace a scene or write dialogue that feels like something people would actually say.

Things I liked:

Chopper was great, as was his little banter with Hera. And, contrarily to seemingly everyone, I actually like Hera. Yes, she looks like the porn parody version (the flat lighting is not helping), but she does feel like the character, and also a natural evolution of that character as someone who has been both a general and a single parent.

The visuals are actually quite good - couldn't spot any ropey CGI or Volume work so that's a plus.

The story is set up nicely, Morgan works as an effective villain. Baylan and Shin are a bit one-dimensional, but we're two episodes in and I like their vibe.

I liked The Phantom Menace homages. Less enamoured with the homage to it's wooden acting and flat place.

The other galaxy - a neat way of expanding the Universe. Though now my mind is filled with the idea of it being the 40K galaxy, and thus images of Commissar Thrawn and Ordo Malleus Inquisitor Ezra XD

(...I'm going to have to write this fic now aren't I? -_-)

My minor annoyances:

Just do a proper opening crawl for God's sake!

The narrative contrivances were...a bit much. I don't mind one or two, it's Star Wars they're all over the place, but them piling up to get the plot to work was annoying. From the captain 'calling their bluff' by...doing exactly what Baylan wanted instead of, you know, keeping their highly important prisoner safe by not letting them aboard; to a third HK droid just hanging about at Sabine's house, instead of, I don't know, self-destructing and killing everyone in Lothal?

The Imperial infiltrators stuff is starting to grate. Because it could be done well - there's something to be explored in the idea that leading rebellions are different from leading governments, there are different challenges and various ways cynics can take advantage of that and corrupt ideals etc. But the way it's done just makes the New Republic look stupid.

The episode one cliffhanger was daft. We know Sabine's not going to die; and if she's going to get stabbed it should have an actual impact on the plot but bacta means that didn't happen. I can see why they decided on a two-episode premiere as that would have been a really weak ending.

Things with question marks:

Sabine. I don't mind her being a Jedi - feels a bit out of nowhere, but the idea of a non-Force sensitive (or weak Force-sensitive) training to be one, and compensating through other means, sounds fine. But I'm not sure it's something that works for her character. Wanting to learn to better defend Lothal etc. I get, but actually being a Padawan? Seems odd. Especially as we already got this story with the Darksabre arc.

The petulant teenager stuff bothered me when I watched it, but I've mellowed after a friend pointed out that Sabine has had trouble with family. She got denounced by her biological family, then her found family broke up at the end of Rebels. Makes sense that she'd be a bit lonely, cling to Ahsoka looking to recreate that and then react badly when it went wrong. So regressing feels natural, though I'm hoping that's over with now.

I'm not keen on her relationship with Ahsoka. Having them be a failed Master and Apprentice duo feels a bit like trying to force a relationship that didn't exist into being because I don't they exchanged a single word in Rebels. I would have preferred it if they didn't have much of one and their journey together explored their characters.

Ahsoka. She's about what I've come to expect from the recent series. But the Paragon Jedi stuff really doesn't suit her. I don't mind her 'I walked away from Anakin' line - I can see how survivor's guilt would lead to look back on things that way and think 'I could have saved him'. But a pin in it - it'll depend on how this is explored in the show as to whether I come to like or dislike this.

So overall, cautious but not turned off yet.

[modstarfell]

rev proj (post sim)

"Kisaragi you need to decide of weather we approve of this mission or not. It's been in the waits for a good few months now and our partnership with had been nonstop attempting to contact us, only for them to go to voicemail." Tsurugi was sitting next to Yamato's desk, he knew the other wasn't in often but was he really gone that much? There is people relying on him after all.

Yamato almost tuned the other out were it not for the stern look in his eyes, like bullets shooting through his soul at times. What was he even supposed to do again? He blinked for a moment followed by a blank stare at the other. "Uhm… Yeah. I don't see why not, we have the resources by now I believe." What was he even agreeing to? He drifted his gaze away from his… friend, back to his computer.

Tsurugi continued talking about various other topics that had been long overdue for Yamatos approval or denial but all Yamato could do was shrink down into his seat and try to listen. It's his own fault for letting it build up this much but-- They were already backed up even before he became leader again. This time Yamato has focused his attention to the entrance of the room, having met eyes with his sister. He was silently pleading for her to help him. His prayers were answered when Mikako had walked into the room without knocking.

"Tsurugi, are you pestering Yamato again?" She walked over to join the two at Yamatos desk. Promptly putting her stuff on the free seat and sat closest to Tsurugi.

"Pestering? Really? We have a job to do Kurokawa, and if I have to be in here to remind him of his own then I will. We're running an organization and have been since the game occurred. There's a lot to be done regardless who needs what, we can't do any of it without Kisaragi's approval." Tsurugi gave an annoyed glance over at Mikako, he was just doing what needed to be done. That seemed to be all he cared about anymore. Yamato was back, and so things can 'run smoothly' again.

Mikako raised her hand to her face to rub her forehead a bit as she let the other finish speaking. She knew far well what the other meant, but she also knew Hanzo, knew Yamato before any of the others had. That's it! Mikako slammed down her hand on one of the armrests of the chair before looking back at Tsurugi. "How do you know what is truly the best for this foundation? You did not know our father. You do not know what he wished to do with it. You may have rebuilt it but this place is no longer ran as the Kisaragi Foundation that we had known growing up. You have turned it into 'Oh! Let's run this the way I would since I have the best ideas when it comes to group efforts.' In which, you were wrong. I had truly hoped you had improved yourself from the time we were gone with help from Rei and Teruya, but when it comes to running an organization it seems like your true mindset shines through even now!"

The room fell silent, Mikako having to take a moment to catch her breath. Tsurugi couldn't bring himself to come up with some sort of answer. She was partly right…. Even if the other two were helping, he was thinking of how to keep it safe, 'helping others'….. He couldn't even help his own father. He looked at the side of a desk for a moment.

"If you'll excuse me." That was all he could muster before maneuvering his chair to leave Yamato's office.

The two siblings looked at each other with Yamato waiting to make sure Tsurugi had fully left before speaking. "Mikako… You didn't have to do that…" Defended by his own little sister, ouch! He could've stood up for himself! Yet he didn't. He knows he likely wouldn't have either. He wanted them all to be happy together again, even if it meant he had to pretend to know what he's doing.

"If I hadn't, he would've kept piling work on your regardless and then you'd end up spending more months locking yourself away in your workshop making who knows what." She let out a small laugh before standing up from her seat. "Plus, you know dad wouldn't have wanted things this way either."

What ever did happen to the person who was meant to take over anyways…? It wasn't something either of them knew, or were sure they wanted to find out after all those years.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Out of Sorts by happyaspie

Part 75 of Tony Stark is a Good Mentor Series

No Archive Warning Apply || Rated G || Word Count 5812 || Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark., Irondad

Summary: Peter receives a less-than-pleasant wake-up call from an extremely overwhelmed May. Unfortunately, his day just goes downhill from there. By the time Tony gets there to pick him up from school he is one big grumpy mess. However, Tony does his best to get him sorted out and feeling better.

[Exceprt Below the Cut]

Seven minutes before Peter’s alarm was set to go off, he was jolted awake by an insistent knock at his bedroom door. His eyes flew open, wide with shock and his fingers tightly grasped the sheets. There had been no time for him to properly process what was taking place before the knocking was replaced by the sound of his aunt’s voice calling his name. His full name.

“Yeah?” he croaked, thus giving his aunt permission to enter the room. The doorknob turned, and he struggled to sit up. The process was slow and uncoordinated, but he managed to have himself mostly upright before May came bursting through the door carrying a laundry basket full of clothes.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” May asked as she dropped the basket at the end of the bed. Peter had to jerk his leg back to prevent it from landing on his foot.

“I never wear a shirt to bed,” Peter replied while fighting back a yawn.

“What if there was a fire?” May asked and Peter tried to answer but was cut off before he produced a single syllable. “Never mind, we can talk about that later. I got your laundry washed and folded but I need you to put it away. Actually, we really need to start working on you doing your own laundry.”

“Okay, I-” Peter began with the intention of saying that he was more than willing to learn. But May, seemingly distracted, started talking over him.

“Why is it such a mess in here?” she asked, gesturing broadly around the room. “How long have those dishes been sitting on that desk? And when’s the last time you even attempted to organize all this junk in here? Do you even try keeping your room clean anymore?”

“I do!” Peter instantly defended. He was generally pretty good about taking care of his own things. He’d just been exceptionally busy with school and Spider-Man and his unofficial Internship that he’d sort of gotten behind. It hadn’t been intentional. But when he looked around the room, he could understand her concern. It had been a while since she’d had to prompt him to do something so simple as carrying an empty plate to the dishwasher. “I just-” he attempted to explain to no avail.

“-I don’t actually have time to discuss this right now,” May sighed tiredly. “I just really need you to start taking at least a little bit more responsibility for yourself. Please? I can’t do everything, Peter.”

“I know and I-” Peter said, pausing when his alarm began to go off. He leaned over to turn it off but inadvertently knocked off the bedside table in the process. It landed on the floor with a loud clunk. “Sorry! Let me get that,” he said and attempted to get himself into a position to pick it up. However, he’d only just managed to roll over onto this stomach when May easily bent down to grab it herself.

After setting the clock back onto the bedside table, May smiled weakly. “You should gather this stuff up, put it away, and get ready for school. Tony’s picking you up after, and you're spending the night with him, right?”

Peter looked between May and the clutter piled up on his desk. “Uh, yeah. That was the plan. I mean I was supposed to be but if you don’t want me to,” he said, half expecting her to insist he come straight home after school to clear up his mess.

“-It’s fine,” May mildly snapped. “I just wanted to make sure I knew where you were going to be tonight. Now go take a shower and make sure you leave yourself enough time to eat. I need to get to work.”

“O-okay,” Peter stuttered, wondering if it would be a good idea to elect to stay home on his own. But at the same time, he didn’t particularly want to bail on Tony. He made a mental note to clean up his entire room the moment he arrived home on Saturday. Even if it meant missing out on some patrol time. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

May didn’t answer. He wasn’t even convinced she’d heard him. She was already halfway down the hall. He knew she’d been way busier than usual with work recently. She was clearly tired and in a bad mood because of it. He understood that wasn’t her fault and that it hadn’t been her intention to take anything out on him. However, between the early morning wake up call and the mild chastising, he could feel a metaphorical dark cloud settling over his head. “Wow. What a great day this is going to be,” he grumbled to himself as he literally shoved the newly folded laundry into his dresser drawers.

[Continue Reading on A03]

[yallmakemyassitch]

A Game Of Cat & Mouse

After an eventful day of exercising and running around the park, the two finally get to enjoy some R&R back home for the evening. After they showered, Ayana took this as the perfect opportunity to present the new outfits she bought for her and Tabi.

“Tada! 😸”

She hops into the room wearing a cute tiger onesie with perky ears and a little tail, striking a playful kitty pose in Tabi’s direction.

“So, whatd’ya think? Don’t we look adorable?😺”

Tabi looks down at the grey mouse onesie he had on, still feeling a bit unsure about the choice of animal for him.

“Eh, it’s cute, I guess...” He shrugs, “Though I still don’t understand why you made me be a mouse.”

“Because *I’m* already the cat. And this cat wants to have a tasty treat~ ” She giggled, creeping closer towards him in an almost predatory stance. Tabi takes a step back, the look mischief in her eyes suddenly making him wary.

“H-Hey. You shouldn’t corner a mouse, Aya. This mouse will fight back,” he warns.

“I’d like to see you try. 😼” With that, she pounces, pushing him back onto the bed and climbing on top of him before he even has time to react. Despite his startled protests and squirming, the little mouse was stuck there, successfully trapped by the playful tiger. Ayana leans down to whisper something in his ear.

“A little known fact you should know about tigers, Tabi: When killing their prey, they always go for the neck.” She then blows a strong raspberry right into his neck, followed by a fierce barrage of nibbles and kisses that had him cackling like a mad man and squirming even more desperately.

“Dh-HAHAhahahaha! Ahayaa-hahaha! AH-! NOHO STAHAHAHAP! I CAN’T TAHAKE IHIhihihit!!”

“Hahaha! Nope! You’re all mine now~!” She grins with pure glee as she starts clawing at his ribs. Tabi was running out of energy; he knew he needed to do something to defend himself, and fast!

In a last-ditch effort, he reaches up and firmly grabs her sides. It actually surprises her enough that she stops tickling him for a brief moment. Tabi took his chance and flips them both over on the bed so that their positions are now switched; Ayana looks up at him in disbelief.

“Wha-!? H-How??”

Tabi chuckles at her, albeit breathlessly, since he was still recovering. “Hah... I already told you. This mouse fights back,” He wiggles his fingers at her, a new revengeful desire quickly restoring his energy, “and this time, he’s not going to show mercy either.”

And with that, Tabi attacks. He uses a variety of methods: clawing at her ribs, kneading her tummy and squeezing her hips. Within seconds, Ayana was reduced to a blushing, giggling pile of jelly, much to his delight.

“Now I get to enjoy *my* tasty treat. The sweet laughter of my sweet little kitty~♡”

- The End.

I PROMISE Gypsy, I will be getting to that final part some day! I just had to get this out. 'Cause the idea has been swimming in my head for a while now.

The concept was very much inspired by this bit in Cougar's comic dub compilation (at 1:58), with my own personal spin on it. ^_^

Poor Ayana. She thought she had it but the tables got turned so, so badly. 🙈 (She still had fun tho.)

Hope you guys like this.

I wanted to end today on a good note (last post today I swear) so...

You never cease to amaze me with these cool ass stories, anon ⊂⁠(⁠´⁠･⁠◡⁠･⁠⊂⁠ ⁠)⁠∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

Keep up the good work :)

Ash boutta loose their damn mind I know it