#i just really want to know what else he did to get reset before knowing the winchesters

[lazarrusrising]

I think it's interesting that Castiel has this sort of dual reputation in heaven, to the soldier angel he's a legend, originally entrusted with the greatest tasks, then forging his own path. To the higher ups he's a known defective, reset so many times because he always finds a way to break protocol, and yet they still use him again and again and they forge him again and again and he frees himself again and again. To the soldiers of heaven he's both the best of what they could be and a cautionary tale. To the generals he's a nuke, a weapon powerful because of its ability to be unconventional but volatile for that exact same reason.

[babyleostuff]

boys and their toys

𝜗𝜚 THEME: angst (+ hints of fluff) 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!wonwoo x fem!reader, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SYNOPSIS: fighting with you has to be one of wonwoo’s biggest nightmares, so when you reset his game - will that be enough for him to finally lose his temper?

natalia’s note: i know you can’t technically pause a game, so this is probably going to be big highly inaccurate, forgive me gamer people ://

“did you touch my computer?” 

uh-oh. no “darling”, no “love”, not even a “baby”. that couldn’t mean anything good. 

you turned off the stove, and quickly wiped your hands. it was honestly amazing how the lack of your usual pet name made you spiral because why did your heart start beating so fast all of a sudden, but… did you touch your boyfriend’s computer today? you never had the reason to, it’s not like you shared his passion of gaming, so you never really touched it or did anything with it. even if you wanted to check something you always did it on your own computer or your phone. 

“yes, wonwoo?” you asked slightly out of breath, peeking into your bedroom. 

your boyfriend sat at his gaming chair with headphones covering one of his ears, his brows furrowed and lips pursed out, as he was typing something furiously on his new purple keyboard. “i paused the game before i left for practice today,” he said, and by his cold tone you figured you wouldn’t like what you were about to hear, “and now it’s gone.” 

he finally turned his head to look at you, and to be honest, you’d rather he’d turn back to the computer screen. wonwoo was never the one to pick fights with you, he always insisted on cooling down and spending some time apart to gather your thoughts so no one would end up hurt, and even during the biggest fights you’ve had in your relationship, you’ve never seen him so outwardly furious. 

suddenly self-conscious, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “i don’t know what happened. i didn’t touch anything.” because you didn’t, you were certain of that. “you know i never use it anyway.” sure, you cleaned today, you had your day off, and with wonwoo at work you didn’t have anything else to do, so you figured it’d be the perfect time to do some cleaning and dusting. but there’s no way you reset his game, right? 

“my keyboard is clean, so you had to do something with it,” wonwoo said, his brows furrowing even more. you didn’t like the way his eyes seemed to darken, and you certainly didn’t like the tone of his voice. he wasn’t yelling at you, but then again he was always so soft spoken with you that you weren’t used to hearing him being so cold. 

“i was cleaning, but i didn’t press anything,” you said quickly. “i swear.” 

“you must’ve, because clearly the game had been reset,” he scoffed. “how many times have i told you not to touch my computer when a game is on? is it seriously so hard to understand?” 

you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. wonwoo, your wonwoo was calling you dumb? “it was an accident,” you straightened your spine, and walked further into the room. “i wanted to clean the keyboard for you since you have been complaining about it being dirty for days now. maybe if you weren’t so lazy you would've done that yourself,” you loved him with all your heart but you wouldn’t let him disrespect you over something as stupid as a video game. “i wanted to do something nice for you, and you know i’d never do anything to your game on purpose.” 

for a second you thought he’d say something back, but instead he only shook his head, and covered his other ear with the headphone. 

you couldn’t actually believe him.  

like an idiot, you stood in the middle of the room in disbelief. you didn’t know why he was so pissed about it, sure - you knew how much time he spent to get to the level he was on, but it was still just a game. besides, his behaviour was so unlike him, and it made everything so much worse. 

“have fun playing your games, wonwoo,” you said, though you weren’t sure if he heard you. not that you cared. you quickly gathered your things, and left his apartment. there was no way you'd stay there, and act as if nothing had happened. 

after a couple of days of radio silence you weren’t sure what to do next. 

it’s not like you would call him or text him or anything - it was his job to man up and apologise, but a part of you, the part that always cared for him no matter what, really wanted to check up on him, which you weren’t sure how you felt about. he was the one to make you feel like the smallest person on earth, he was the one to make you feel like you did something wrong, so why did you feel responsible for checking up on how he was doing? 

you didn’t want to make any excuses for wonwoo, that didn’t feel right, but… you really wanted to talk this out. you had never gotten in a fight where you spent so much time apart - even when you fought when he was on tour you still managed to make up rather quickly. 

and soon you started noticing the small things you were starting to miss. his glasses laying around the apartment, and him running around trying to find them before work. his arms wrapped around your waist as you’d be cooking dinner. his featherlight kisses he’d place on your forehead after coming home late thinking you were already asleep. 

for someone who insisted that fighting with you had to be one of his biggest nightmares, he was being really stubborn. 

you sighed and waddled over to your kitchen to make something to eat. after your fight you really lost your appetite, but you knew you shouldn’t treat yourself so harshly after what happened. to be honest you generally lost the motivation to do anything.

just when you managed to put the pan on the stove you heard a loud knock. the sun had already set, and you felt more than ready to call it an early night after dinner, nor did you expect anyone to come over. “yes?” you opened the door a bit hesitant. a small part of you was hoping it’d be the person you were really starting to miss at this point, but to your disappointment it was a delivery guy, the last person you’d expect to pop up at your front door. 

“i didn’t order anything,” you said, frowning. your first thought was that it simply had to be a mistake, but then you noticed that the bag the guy was holding was from one of your favourite chinese places. well, whoever ordered it had a great taste. 

“is this your address?” he asked and showed you his phone with yes - your exact address. 

he did not just order you takeout. 

“who was this ordered by?” you asked immediately. 

“um, let me check,” he muttered, “jeon wonwoo.” 

you thanked the guy, and took the bag from him. 

and it didn’t stop there. 

for the next couple of days you were greeted with a delivery guy at your door at the exact time you usually ate your dinner. you always thanked them and took the takeout because free food is free food, and if this was wonwoo’s way of being stubborn then so be it - you wouldn’t let the food go to waste just to be petty. 

but you wouldn’t lie - anytime you were greeted by the amazing smell of your favourite food your heart beat a bit faster. wonwoo has always always been a man of silent acts of service, and it never failed to make you feel loved, even now when you were fighting.

the day after the city had been struck by a storm. it was bad, the rain was pouring for the whole day, and you could hear the thunder constantly rumbling in the distance. thankfully you didn’t have to go out that day, but it made you miss wonwoo even more. you always used to cuddle on days like these if he was fortunate enough to have some time off. 

when you got the weverse notification you picked up your phone, and clicked on the app immediately, a reflex you picked up early in your relationship, and read the message your boyfriend posted. 

make sure to bring an umbrella with you today. and if you’re going to drive, be careful  

you didn’t have to think twice to know he wrote this thinking about you. anytime it rained, even if it was a drizzle, he turned into a worried mum, and nagged you about being careful and bringing an umbrella with you, as if he didn’t put it in your bag before leaving for the schedules for you. 

after a week and a half after you stormed out of wonwoo’s apartment you were starting to settle into your little routine of coming back to an empty home, getting the takeout, and eating it alone in your bedroom, where you could feel your boyfriend’s presence more than anywhere else in the house. if you were feeling extra sappy that day you wore one of his hoodies to make yourself feel even more miserable. 

but something changed that week. 

you just closed the door with another takeout when you got the message you were waiting for all of those lonely nights. 

can we talk?  please

maybe you should’ve been more stubborn, and ignored his message. maybe you were wrong for typing out a “yes”, but you didn’t care. it didn’t mean you’d forgive him, you were still very much angry at him, but you needed to see him. needed to see if he was okay. 

i’ll come by after work tomorrow  eat well 

you smiled at your phone with teary eyes as you noticed one more thing you were missing. his stupid “thumbs up” emoji he put in half of his texts. 

you weren’t sure what to expect the next evening. you didn’t know if you’d start yelling at him or if you’d start bawling your eyes out after seeing him after what felt like an eternity. what you were sure of was that you were nervous as hell, which was kind of ironic because you didn’t even feel that way before your first date. 

this time when you heard the knock on your door you knew it wouldn’t be the delivery guy. 

sort of.

“i brought food,” wonwoo said, as if that was what mattered to you. 

he looked bad. the dark purple circles under his eyes. the slumped wide shoulders. the cheekbones more prominent than ever. tearing your soul apart would hurt less than seeing him like this. 

“will you…,” he took a shaky inhale, looking at you from behind his glasses. you had to resist the urge to grab his face and adjust them, as they were sitting crookedly on his nose as usual. “will you let me apologise?” 

“that’s all i’ve been waiting for you dumbass,” you sighed, and grabbed his hand to pull him inside your apartment. 

even though you didn't know how this night would end, whether you would be able to forgive him today, or if you would need more time for everything to go back to normal, you were glad to have wonwoo by your side. you were convinced that the fight happened for a reason, whatever it may have been, but despite everything, you were happy that you could go through it with him.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot 

[is-this-even-relatable]

Misfortune Teller

tldr: An older Danny, apprentice to Clockwork, does a lot of field work across dimensions, resetting the timeline, queuing future events, and who knows what else. Occasionally, he warns people about such upcoming possibilities, to set them on the right path. How, you might ask? Well in this case... as a wandering fortune teller.

Crack-fic (oh god, it's getting long and my logic brain won't let it remain as crack) where Danny becomes Clockwork's apprentice after getting his GED. Living his infinite afterlife to the fullest. Inspired by this tumblr post.

Working for Clockwork had been... interesting so far. At first, Danny got frustrated by how vague and cryptic Clockwork was. He'd just shunt Danny off to some ancient time with a few words, his own time medallion (Danny carried it everywhere with him now), and then pop back into the portal, leaving Danny with only the faintest idea of where to go.

Eventually, after enough time (ha!) spent around Clockwork, Danny figured out that it just basically meant that he had free reign and to do whatever he wanted. Because if he went on the wrong path, (like that one time in Pompeii when he had almost caused the volcano to explode a few years too early), Clockwork would just pop on by, say another few cryptic words, and then it'd all be fine and dandy, or as he liked to say, "All is as it should be... Now stop practicing your wail by an active volcano."

After telling Jazz about that (it was supposed to be funny, not concerning), she just sighed and shook her head, with a forlorn "think before you act, Danny!" but hey, it'd turned out fine so far, so who cares how he does what Clockwork asks him to do, as long as it gets done, right? Even if it's with a liiiiitle more mischief than strictly required.

Besides. Danny was the one who had been doing time shenanigans across millennia, not Jazz. And he thought he'd been getting pretty good at it too! He'd actually started giving himself a different made-up background for each universe he visited. Sam and Tucker were helping him keep up with the identities on a spreadsheet, so if he had to go back to one he'd already visited, he'd remember who he'd said he was supposed to be.

---

He was on a call with them one evening while haunting Jazz's apartment, doing just that, when he felt a familiar tingle in the back of his throat, as well as a heightened awareness of the seconds passing by, that always accompanied his mentor's appearance.

Sam was talking about his past stint posing as a god of death when he cut in. "Hey- sorry to interrupt, Sam- Clocky's here, guys, I gotta dip."

"Aw, come on! We hardly talked any this past week since you passed your certifications, man," Tucker complained.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Partly on you too though, you've been caught up outside of class, and Sam's schedule is nearly the opposite of yours."

Sam hummed in agreement despiter Tucker's scoff.

Danny missed hanging out with them as much as they had in high school, but hey, life goes on. Or at least, theirs did, to college. After finally flunking out of Casper High, he'd taken some time to get used to his responsibilities in the ghost zone, and when he had, he realized that he didn't really have much enthusiasm or timeleft for his human life.

And he didn't really want to go back home either.

But Jazz had made him tie up any loose ends before he noped-off to god knows where, which frankly, he had to thank her for. Getting his GED took a few years, but it was an accomplishment that could be attributed to Danny Fenton, no ghostliness required. Then he was able to let that tether go free.

Pulled out of his musings by a few more grumbles from Tucker, Danny said his goodbyes, promising to call the next time they were all available.

After hanging up, Danny swiveled around, anticipation already lighting up his eyes an ethereal green.

Clockwork, for his part, had been waiting patiently through Danny's lengthy goodbyes. Although he supposed that it tracked for the watcher of time to be patient. With his job, it'd be a nightmare if he wasn't.

"Phantom," Clockwork spoke, calm as always. "I have some tasks I need you to complete as my apprentice."

And Danny, always ready for adventure, didn't need him to explain any further. "Sure! When do you need me to be?"

Clockwork smiled at that. "I am fortunate you are eager. Follow me."

---

Danny popped into existence in this universe with a burst of cold air and static electricity. He found himself hovering by a clocktower above a sprawling, gothic city. Smog and light pollution obscured the stars above him, to his disappointment. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd probably have all the time he wanted to fly someplace less populated to see them later.

He started off by familiarizing himself with the city. As he flew, he followed the trail of power and met the resident city-spirit, a spooky- but kind underneath- woman draped in black lace, who told him her name was Gotham. He spoke in length with her about this universe, its heroes, and her knights. On that, she was very enthusiastic... or at least Danny thought she was, her projected emotions belaying much more than her gloomy exterior. She told him how her knights had been through a lot and would need some guidance fighting the darkness that pooled in her deepest corners, smiling with too much glee, filling lungs with fear, and terrorizing with cold hard bullets.

Danny could sense that the dangers she spoke of were growing in power, ever slowly. The longer they shadowed people's minds and hearts, an intangible thing grew that lent them more otherworldly pull than their physical forms had right to hold.

That must be what he was sent here for.

But... they were weak, pitifully so for him, infinite king as he was. And besides, he wasn't here in that sense. He was a messenger, a simple apprentice. And he could do this however he wanted.

Cue his talk with Lady Gotham, and subsequent idea to arm her knights. With what? Well, he figured knowledge would be a start. Flying high above the city invisibly, Danny noticed a sea of colors and lights by what appeared to be the city's pier. He flew down, noting that it appeared to be the setup spot for a travelling circus or carnival of some kind.

He considered what to do. One of Lady Gotham's troubles was a madman clown, right? Well maybe he'd be attracted to his ilk here... and with the danger came the knights. Maybe he could catch one of them here?

Danny was floating around at the entrance and beginning to formulate a plan when a flyer caught his eye. Looking for a mystic to read fortunes. URGENT!

Hadn't Clockwork said something about fortunes? And he hadn't made an identity in this universe yet...

A mischievous smile crept across Danny's face, splitting it in two with far too many teeth.

---

Half a city away, a man in all black, perched on the very same clocktower that Phantom had Appeared by, shivered as he felt an ominous premonition about his sanity in the near future...

Said man quickly opened his comms to check in with his many, many kids. Yet even after hearing back from each, he still felt apprehensive.

Somewhere even further, Clockwork laughed.

---

And that's how Danny found himself seated at a fortune teller's booth at a pier in Gotham, two days later, for the Tricksy Traveling Circus's grand opening.

[spencerlicious]

could i request emily x polyglot!reader? someone finds out r can speak multiple languages, so naturally derek challenges her and em to see who can speak the most languages

so emily and r get into a language competition (?) and the 2 make a bet of whoever wins, gets a special prize from the loser *wink wonk* pls? it starts with innocent foreign banyer then ends up gettin dirtier if that makes sense? top!em pls 😊

thank u for reading, if ur not comfortable its all good! :D

hi anon!! thank you for the request <3 this is a super good idea, i was very excited to write it. it kind of morphed from your request a bit, but the main idea is still there. i do want to specify that i am by no means fluent or even proficient in any of the languages used in this fic (besides english 😭) because let’s be real— 4 years of spanish did *not* stick with me, so i used quite a bit of google translate. you might want to keep it handy too! i hope you enjoy :)

p.s. this is my first fic in a very very long time, please be kind <3

love language

emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, cursing, oral (r receiving), fingering, dom!emily, i think that’s it?

w.c.: 1.3k

It was a long day for the members of the BAU. Back-to-back-to-back cases on short amounts of sleep were starting to wear on the team, and it didn’t help that the current case was stumping them.

“Oh, look at this, guys,” Morgan says, showing a picture from the newest crime scene. “Looks like there’s some writing in another language.”

You drop your head into your hands, taking a deep breath as you try to reset yourself and focus on the case.

“Looks like French, where’s Emily?” JJ asks.

You study the picture for a second before speaking up. “Dire la vérité— tell the truth.”

Morgan’s eyes cut to you. “Y/N, you speak French? And really, where is Prentiss?”

You’re about to respond as the door opens and Emily walks in from the bathroom. “Emily, did you know Y/N speaks French?”

Her face is surprised. “Huh. I didn’t. What else are you keeping from us?” She jokes.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile. “I speak a little bit more than French,” you say, not wanting to brag.

“What other languages do you speak?” Reid asks curiously.

“Well, French, and also Spanish, German, and Italian. Mostly Romance languages,” you say.

“Here’s a challenge,” Derek says. “Which one of you can speak in a different language for the longest?”

“¿Cómo no sabía que eras políglota?” Emily asks, effectively starting the competition.

“Nunca surgió en la conversación,” you respond plainly.

She laughs. “¡Podríamos haber estado teniendo conversaciones secretas todo este tiempo!”

“¿Qué tipo de conversaciones secretas te gustaría tener, Prentiss?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes slightly, flustered. She switches to French, trying to keep you on your toes. “Eh bien, je ne sais pas. Des trucs qu'on ne veut pas que Morgan écoute.” Her eyes flit to Morgan’s as she mentions him and he looks confused.

“What are the two of you talking about? And what are you saying about me?” He asks, looking between you and Emily.

You let out a small chuckle. “Tu ne veux juste pas que Derek m'entende te traiter de jolie et qu'il devienne jaloux, hmm?”

“This is all well and good, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the case?” Reid interjects.

“Yes, definitely,” you say, straightening your hair and pulling yourself back into focus mode.

After some more discussion on the use of a foreign language at the crime scene, the team decides to break for lunch. You take a quick trip to the bathroom and end up washing your hands at the same time as Emily.

“So, what was that?” She asks.

You’re caught off guard. “What was what?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she replies. “You told me I’m pretty in French. What was that about?”

You stammer a bit. “Well, I do think you’re pretty, Emily. I think you’re beautiful,” you admit.

“It’s interesting,” she says, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. “You speak three romance languages, and while it’s not the same meaning, you picked the most romantic language to compliment me in. Even if I couldn’t tell from the long glances and the way your heart is pounding right now, that alone would’ve told me what I’m pretty sure I know,” she finishes, looking you dead in the eyes.

Her hand is heavy on your waist and your mind is racing. “And what do you know?”

Emily’s other hand trails from your shoulder to your jaw and pulls your chin up so you’re forced to look in her eyes. “You have feelings for me,” she states.

You hold her gaze for a second. “I hate profilers.” There’s a noticeable tension between the two of you before Emily smirks at you. You feel yourself inching closer to her and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. She reciprocates the kiss without hesitation, and you feel her hands pull you in by your hips.

The kiss gets broken and Emily rests her forehead on yours as you catch your breath. Your eyes meet and you share a smile. “Embrasse-moi encore, s'il te plaît,” you say softly.

“Oui chérie,” she replies, already leaning into kiss you again. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss and she pushes you up against the door of the bathroom. She flips the lock of the door. Emily doesn’t want anyone interrupting.

Emily’s breath was warm against your neck as she kissed the tender skin. Pulling the collar of your shirt aside, she sucks a deep purple mark into your collar bone, drawing soft whines from you. “Shhh baby, don’t want the others to hear you, right?” She says, kissing the skin she marked soothingly.

She switches languages again and whispers in your ear. “¿Que quieres, hermosa?”

You meet her eyes and can feel the lust practically radiating off of Emily. “Want you to touch me,” you respond.

Within seconds, she’s on the floor in front of you, unzipping your slacks. Her fingers trace you through your panties. “You’re soaked, baby,” she says.

“For you,” you say, bracing your hands on the wall behind you as she teases you.

Emily pulls your panties down and rests your leg on her shoulder as her fingers find your clit. It’s almost electric, the way she rubs tight circles into the bundle of nerves. “Emily,” you moan out her name.

Her ministrations stop, causing you to whine out again at the loss of contact. “What did I tell you? Not a sound, or I’ll stop completely.”

You nod, covering your mouth with one hand as Emily runs her tongue through your wet cunt. She groans at the taste. “You’re fucking delicious,” she says, voice deep and dripping with arousal. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as her lips close around your clit, teeth gently scraping, making your legs tremble.

Your hands find a home tangled in Emily’s hair as you hold her face close. Her tongue slides back from your clit to your entrance. Your teeth clamp down against your lower lip as Emily’s tongue plunges inside of you. Her face is wet with your slick as she tongue fucks you, the sight alone bringing you close to the edge.

Emily then licks back through your cunt, sucking on your clit as she pushes a finger inside of you. Clouded in pleasure, you can’t focus on anything except the need to cum as she adds another finger and your walls are clenching around her. “Squeezing me so good baby, you want to cum?” she asks.

Your head nods frantically. “Yes— please, wanna cum,” you say breathily.

Emily curls her fingers up to press against that spongy spot inside of you. “Cum for me,” she commands, returning to suck at your clit as she hits your G-spot over and over again.

Your body shakes as she sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Her name is falling from your lips in a quiet whisper as you soak her fingers and face.

“You did so good for me,” she says, standing up and kissing your temple.

Catching your breath feels difficult, but you begin to fix your clothes and look presentable.

“Это было так хорошо, озорная ��евчонка,” Emily says, fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

“You may have just rocked my world, Prentiss, but I did not gain the ability to speak Russian,” you laugh.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, which starts you both up laughing, when a knock sounds from the door. You freeze, flushing in embarrassment.

Emily unlocks the bathroom door, opens it, and finds an impatient JJ awaiting you. “What are the two of you doing? We have an unsub to catch,” she says, turning around and heading back to the rest of the team.

Emily throws you a wink and follows after JJ.

You’re pretty positive this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Handle Critique

I’ve got to admit, I wish I was one of those beatific saints that could take critique with a grateful smile. Instead, I am constantly suppressing a horrible little gremlin at the back of my head hissing at anything from legit plot critiques to grammar corrections. I’m well aware I used that comma wrong, GOD.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very good at suppressing that gremlin, but the little bastard is still there. He exists because even though your brain knows critique can help, it also knows you worked damn hard on the thing being critiqued, and goddamnit, isn’t that enough???

Anyway, here are some tips on getting that gremlin to shut the hell up.

It is okay to be upset. You worked really hard on this thing, and now someone’s gone and pointed out all the things that suck about it. You cannot control how you feel about one thing or another, but you can allow yourself to feel that way and let it pass through you. Let your critique partner you’re taking time to reflect on it, and go for a walk. Do something else. Let those feelings pass through you before you get back to the page.

Give yourself time. Don’t feel like you need to correct things right away (unless they are minimal grammar tweaks). Some pieces of feedback might take awhile to sink in, especially when you’ve got a whole novel to wrestle through. Set it aside, think about something else for a week or so, and get back to it when you’ve reset.

Get a second opinion and/or ducky friend. It can be very hard to tell the difference between good and bad feedback sometimes. Someone who means very well could give feedback that just doesn’t work for you, and someone who doesn’t give two shits could have spotted that fatal flaw right away. You can bring in a real third party or just make use of the old rubber duck technique, where you talk through the issue with a friend or a Naruto poster telling you to Believe it. Working it out out-loud is a really effective technique to figure out what needs fixing and what doesn’t.

Guide critique-givers toward the feedback you want. I, a person who prefers straightforward fantasy and sci-fi, cannot give the fine-tooth points on how a romance novel should work. However, I can give feedback on what works for me and what doesn’t story-wise. Giving your beta reader or critique partner a list of questions to look for will help avoid vague feedback based on how they don’t like the genre. There are many ways to do this, but consider using the following as a base to tailor your own questions:

Did you get a good sense of the setting? Did the worldbuilding make sense to you?

Was this story clear? Where there any parts that seemed confusing?

What characters did you like and why? What characters didn’t you like?

Did any parts of the story feel slow or repetitive?

Did the beginning draw you in? Did the middle keep you engaged? Did the ending feel satisfying?

If you were to write [insert plot point here], what would you do differently?

Again, all of the above questions are up for debate depending on your goal, but we are rarely taught how to give good feedback, and a guided feedback session would work better for you than a free-for-all.

Figure out what kind of advice doesn’t work for you. It is really hard to give good feedback sometimes, even with guided questions. It can also be really hard to figure out why some feedback doesn’t click with you, and that’s a matter of digging deep to figure out what you really want. You may lean toward characters who are horrible fuck-ups, but your partner prefers more steady characters who always strive to do the right thing. Your characters, therefore, may never click with this person, no matter how much they want to help you. And that’s okay! Figuring out where your critique partner is coming from can help you figure out what parts of their feedback isn’t working for you. Sometimes the only thing you can do is thank them and move on, but you might also want to guide them to focus more on the plot or the worldbuilding when looking at your work.

And last, don’t focus on grammar. It’s great if they point that out, but if you end up changing everything, trying to fix that first is a waste of your time. Grammar tweaks last, plot points first.

And, I dunno, give yourself a treat to get that horrible little mind gremlin something else to focus on. Sometimes patting those bad feelings on the head and sending them away can help way more than ignoring them.

[puckinghischier]

Chef’s Kiss

Nico x fem!reader, soft!Nico, domestic!Nico

summary: Nico fluff, basically

notes: i just really love soft nico and couldn’t get him out of my head so here’s this (also ignore the fact i keep using the same pics in my posts, i need to find more 💀)

[2k]

~

Nico was always trying to do little things to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was having the laundry washed, folded, and put away by the time you got home, sending you funny videos and silly selfies throughout the day, or simply having a glass of your favorite wine waiting on you as soon as you walked through the door, he loved providing small moments of happiness for you. He didn’t have time to do things for you often, his schedule getting increasingly busier as the season goes on, but today he had a completely free afternoon and wanted to have your favorite meal plated and waiting for you to enjoy as soon as you got off work. The idea came to him when you called him on what was supposed to be your lunch break.

“Neeks, I’m so sorry but I have to work late again. I’m having to re-do all of my reports for the day because my boss didn’t like the format that I used, even though it’s the exact format he told me to use three days ago! I swear sometimes he just wants to make my life a living hell. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Nico had a fond smile on his face, despite the nature of your call; hearing you rant to him about work was always something he looked forward to. While he didn’t love the fact that you were upset and that your boss was a grade A asshole, he loved being the one you came to when you were frustrated and just needed to blow off steam. It always made him happy to know that he was the one you called when you needed a mid-day pick me up on particularly stressful days. He had tried to tell you multiple times to just quit—that he makes enough for the both of you to live on – but you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. You’d always tell him no and that you needed to pull your weight with the bills and rent, too. You didn’t want to have all of the tears you shed while you were in college go to waste. To quote your exact words ‘I’m going to use this damn degree even if it kills me’. He admired your work ethic and that you didn’t want to have him be your own personal bank, but it was times like this he wishes you would just take his suggestion to heart and actually quit.

“I understand, but don’t work too late, schatz. It’s not good for you. Tuck and I will be here waiting on you when you get here,” Nico looks over at the cat quietly snoozing over on the couch. “I noticed you left your lunch in the fridge; do you need me to bring you something? I don’t have to go back to the rink today for anything, so I could pick up something from that sushi place you like and we could have a little lunch date? Give you a few minutes to reset and recharge?”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have time to eat today anyways. At this point working through lunch is the only way I’ll be able to come home before midnight. Thanks for the offer, though, Neeks. I have to go, my boss is calling me, probably to tell me something else I did wrong. I’ll text you when I leave, love you,” you hang up the phone, not giving Nico a chance to respond. He knows your boss hates when he catches you taking personal calls on company time, so he just sends you a simple “I love you, too. Please eat something and don’t work too hard” text since you hung up before he had time to tell you himself.

As soon as he pressed send, Nico grabbed his keys and took off to the grocery store. He really only went to pick up the ingredients to make dinner, but he couldn’t help making a quick stop at the local florist, grabbing a small bouquet of daisies he knows you’ll love. As he was driving home, he remembers this bakery you had told him you’ve been wanting to try, so he finds himself in said bakery picking out a few baked goods for you to taste test (and maybe a few for himself, too). By the time he had made it back home it was well past five, when you typically leave your office for the day. Once he brought his haul of groceries, flowers, and pastries in the door, Tuck greeted him by meowing loudly for his food.

“Sorry, Tuck, I’m late for dinner, aren’t I?” Nico asks the cat as he walks over and fills the hangry cat’s food bowl. “Now that you’re fed, I need to get to work on feeding your mom. That is, if I can manage not to burn anything.”

Nico got to work immediately, turning on the cooking playlist you had made and grabbing his ‘Kiss the Swiss’ apron you had jokingly gifted him for Christmas. He pulled out the recipe book that your mom gave you two as a house-warming gift when you first moved in. Just last week you had been talking about how you missed your mom’s famous pasta, so he decided that was his attempted dish of the night. He laid out all of the ingredients and followed the recipe as closely as he could, paying special attention to all of the little notes your mother added in the margins of the typed recipe. About an hour into Nico’s cooking you sent him a text that you were nearly finished and would be home soon, but he was so busy trying to perfect making pasta from scratch that he never even looked at his phone. When he was on his third attempt at the pasta dough, he heard the front door open.

He looked over at the clock to see that it was nearly seven-thirty. He heard your keys hit the bowl sitting on the small table beside the front door and your sigh of relief once you took your shoes off. He could hear the soft thuds your feet made on the hardwood while you walked into the living room. He looked up from the counter to see your tired body drift over to the couch where Tuck laid sound asleep.

“Hey, Tuck. How was your day? Did you catch a lot of Z’s? Dream about catching mice? Poop on your dad’s pillow again?” Nico heard your soft voice say, chuckling at your last question.

The poor kitten had, somehow, got locked in yours and Nico’s bedroom a few weeks ago and neither of you noticed until it was well past feeding time and the little furball hadn’t come running into the kitchen screaming for his dinner. It took the two of you twenty minutes to hear the soft meows coming from your bedroom, the TV in the living room having drowned them out for most of the day. As soon as you opened the door Tuck came sprinting out of the room as fast as he could, acting as if he’d been in there for days. He ran straight to his food bowl and turned around, glaring at Nico and yourself. Later that evening the two of you made your way to the bedroom to settle down for the night only to find that Tuck had left a nice, smelly present on his pillow. Nico was appalled, to say the least. Gagging and holding his pillow out with straight arms as if it was poisonous. You, however, were doubled over with laughter. You fell onto the bed and were laughing hysterically when Nico finally came back into the room, no pillow to be seen.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing; it’s disgusting! The cat shit on my pillow!” Nico expressed, standing in front of the bed with his arm crossed, looking like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“Neeks, it’s hilarious! Out of all the places in the room he could’ve shit, he saw your pillow and thought ‘Ah, yes. Dad’s pillow. I think this will be my new bathroom.” You wipe the tears from your eyes, slightly out of breath from your laughing fit.

“Well, of course it’s funny when it’s not your pillow! If he would’ve shit on your pillow, you would be as upset as I am.” Nico huffed, still in his childish stance.

“Wait, where is your pillow?”

“In the trash.”

“You threw away the whole pillow!?” you exclaimed, starting to laugh all over again.

“Of course, I threw away the whole pillow! I’m not about to sleep on that thing tonight! It’s contaminated!”

“Nico, you could’ve just gotten a new pillow case. You didn’t have to throw your whole pillow away! What are you going to sleep on tonight?” You asked him, amusement clear in your voice.

“Well…I didn’t think that far ahead,” Nico said, his stance deflating a little.

He ended up sleeping on a throw pillow from the couch that night, picking up a new pillow on his way home from practice the next morning. Since then, the two of you have always made sure to keep your bedroom door open anytime Tuck isn’t in his usual spot on the couch.

Nico smiles at the memory, completely forgetting the fact that he was supposed to be kneading the pasta dough in his hands. By the time his thoughts circulate back to the task at hand, he hears you ask the cat “Where’s your dad, huh?” followed by the sound of your clothes rustling as you move to get off of the couch.

“Nico? You in here?” you call as you walk around the corner of the living room into the kitchen. “Neeks- Oh, there you are. What are you doing?” You stopped in the doorway of the kitchen when you took in the scene in front of you. The pots and pans on the stove, the steam coming from a pot of boiling water, the smell of chicken in the oven, and the bouquet of flowers and box of pastries on the counter next to them. Then your eyes move over to Nico, noticing he was absolutely covered in flour. He had flour in his hair, on his face, on his apron, in the floor, and all over the counter.

“Nico, what the hell are you doing? What is all of this?” you asked him once the two of you made eye contact.

“Well, I was trying to have dinner waiting on you when you got home because I know you’ve had a shitty day, but I’ve just now realized that I don’t know how to make pasta from scratch.”

“Why are you trying to make pasta from scratch?” you walk towards him, laughing at how distraught he looks.

“You said you’ve been craving your mom’s pasta recipe, so I thought it would be a good way to cheer you up after the day that you’ve had,” he replied, grabbing a towel to wipe the flour off of his hands.

“Nico, I love you, I do. And I appreciate the effort, but please throw that ball of…whatever that is in the trash and just use dried pasta next time,” you look over at what’s supposed to be pasta dough, reaching him and placing your arms on his shoulders, hands coming together to rest on the back of his neck.

“I try to make you a nice meal and this is the response I get? No ‘nice try’ or ‘wow, it smells great in here!’” he jokes, looking down at you, attempting to look offended, but his eyes only reflect love and amusement.

“You’ll get real praise when you learn how to make pasta from scratch. For now, consider this your compliment,” you stand on your toes, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“You call that a compliment? Read the apron and try again.”

You laugh before meeting him halfway for a real kiss this time, thinking to yourself just how lucky you were to have Nico in your life.

[its-time-to-write]

Hello! Maybe one where Nate kisses the reader like he did Keeley but they’re dating Jamie and he gets very upset but then they call him down and it’s sweet at the end ❤️

This one got real intense, real fast. Deals with some trauma after an unwanted kiss, so be discerning when deciding if you want to read this. Jamie’s really sweet, but this mostly ends up as a look at how it feels when someone does something you have a hard time laughing off.

i can’t breathe without you

It all happens so fast, really. One minute you’re alone in the boot room, talking to Nate about his day, and the next his lips are pressed against yours. Your entire mind freezes and all you can think is Jamie, and you must say something to that effect because Nate is bumbling through an apology, something about misreading signals and being an idiot, but what you’re really hearing is that he thinks any girl who is nice to him, is attracted to him. 

You’re not. 

He should have known, your mind reasons. He should have known you were with Jamie. 

All rational thought is overshadowed by tears threatening to fall. You say, “I have to go,” and then flee the boot room, leaving Nate standing there all alone. 

You’re not really sure where you’re going, but you’re running, pushing past people in an effort to just get out and get away from the feeling of his lips on yours. 

I didn’t want it, you tell yourself. Didn’t want, didn’t want, didn’t want. 

You knock into Ted in your rush. “Hey there, darling, you alright?” he asks, all fatherly concern. You nod your head once and then are gone, pushing through the door and out into the parking lot. You’re running, running fast. Anything to have control over the way your body feels, to hit the reset button, to forget. 

Jamie will understand, he loves you, he’ll understand, your mind tells you. 

You push it away, because now is not a time for hope. Jamie is a man, and they are all the same. Your ex, Connor, broke up with you when a boy kissed you at a frat party. Never mind that you were shoving him off you before his lips even made contact. Never mind that you had been trying to turn your head away. Never mind that he had seen the whole fucking thing and still decided that you were, in his words, “too easy.”

You’re so distracted by your thoughts and your desperate escape that you barely register Sam’s voice and sprint to catch you until his hand has reached for your arm and you violently shake it away, saying, “don’t touch me,” voice hoarse. 

He instantly lets go and backs up, hands in the air. 

You must look feral, eyes wide, hair flying. Face white. 

Sam’s face has concern written all over it as he asks, softer, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you say, just a bit too forcefully. “I’m fine, I just, his lips and I didn’t want it, I swear I didn’t, I didn’t even do anything, but I feel them, and I didn’t do anything I promise, please, please don’t tell Jamie.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until tears fall onto your shoe. Sam’s previous concern has nothing on how he is now. He is downright worried. 

“Do you need me to call someone?” he asks. 

“No!” you reply. “No. I’m fine. It’s just- Nate kissed me, and I promise I didn’t want him to, he just did, and it’s probably my fault but I love Jamie, not Nate, and I need him to know that, ok? I can’t, how am I supposed to keep going, I can’t-” You’re beginning to hyperventilate now. Sam’s hands are up, like he’s calming a wild animal. 

“Hey. Hey now. Why don’t you sit down. It’s alright, it’s just you and me. Take a deep breath for me, alright? Follow my lead.”

You follow Sam’s directives and sit with your head between your legs. Sam takes a moment to type out a message to Coach Beard, while you’re distracted. It says, Find Nate before Jamie does, because who else would it be, and Sam knows Beard will be able to assess and handle the situation properly. Meanwhile, he’s got to calm you down. 

—

Inside the locker room, Beard’s phone dings. He looks away from where Ted is talking to Jamie and then frowns. What are the odds this text is related to you bumping into Ted? Beard, betting man that he is, is sure they’re good. He goes to find Nate. 

Nate is still in the boot room, acting as if nothing’s wrong. 

He looks up in surprise when Beard walks in. 

“Oh, um, hello,” he says. “Is everything alright?”

So he’s clocked Beard’s angry face. At least he’s not a complete imbecile. 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Beard replies, arms crossed and face stony as ever. “What happened to Jamie’s girlfriend?”

One stammer from Nate is all Beard needs to hear. 

—

Ted tells Jamie, and Jamie is livid. Ted’s phone dings with a help please text from Sam because he has no idea how to help you, and Jamie’s anger reaches a whole new level. 

Beard thinks they should let Jamie have a go at Nate. Roy agrees, and thinks maybe Jamie could use some help. Nate isn’t present, Beard says something about being stuck in the boot room with the handle broken off. Ted knows Beard well enough to know exactly what happened, but now isn’t the time to comment. Beard has both punished and protected Nate, and there are more pressing things at hand. You, for starters. And Jamie, with murder on his mind. 

“Jamie,” Ted says, “I’m gonna need you to listen real good. I don’t know your girl very well, but I do know she has a sweet spirit. You go out there guns blazing, and it’s just going to validate every crushing thought she has about herself.” 

Jamie opens his mouth to speak but Ted puts up a hand. “Doesn’t matter that you’re not mad at her, she’ll take it that way. Things like this are tricky. You want her to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are 100% on her team.” Ted stops. “You are on her team, ain’t you?”

Jamie stares at him. “You think I fucking blame her for that prick mistaking her bein’ nice for flirting?” 

Ted shrugs. “She ever told you ‘bout her last boyfriend? Matter of fact, she ever tell you about any of her other relationships? You might be surprised what kinda boys are out there pretending to be men. Now, I gotta go make sure she’s gonna be ok. You,” he points to Roy, “don’t let Jamie out till he’s calmed down. You,” he points to Beard, “go figure out a way to get Nate unstuck from the boot room.”

Beard says, “consider it done, Coach,” and Roy just grunts. 

Ted is gone, and it’s just the three of them and their separate manifestations of their anger. 

—

Your head is still on your knees when you hear footsteps approaching. Sam has been sitting on his haunches, two feet away from you. Close enough so you’re not alone, far enough to give you some space. 

The footsteps make your head jerk up. The fear in your eyes is enough to break Ted’s heart. He’s never had a daughter, but he’ll be damned if this isn’t how a father must feel. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, crouching down, voice soft. “What can I do you for?”

His voice is just reminiscent enough of your own father’s that you launch yourself into his arms, crying. 

“Sh, sh, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” Ted says. You have a death grip on him. “Just let it out.”

You’ve almost completely cried yourself out when Ted says, “What do you want to say?”

You pull away and sit back on the curb, hand covering half your face. You shake your head. 

“It’s alright, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just want to know what’s wrong so I can help.”

You choke out “Jamie,” and both Ted and Sam are surprised enough that neither of them know what to say. They wait for you to continue. 

A few more tears fall before you say, “I just love him so much. I don’t want to lose him. I need him to know that I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want it. I wasn’t flirting, I swear. He just kissed me out of nowhere and I can’t get rid of the feeling, I just can’t-” You start wiping your lips violently with the back of your hand. 

“Hey, hey listen- listen to me,” Ted says. You lower your trembling hand. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that your whole body is shaking. 

“None of this, and believe me when I do say ‘none,’ is your fault. Jamie ain’t like those other boys you were with. He knows who you are. You did nothing wrong. He’s hopping mad, sure, but not at you. His hearts in the right place. He loves you, and I’m pretty sure if you gave him half a chance, he’d love you forever. There’s nothing that’s going to change that.”

You’re beginning to register Ted’s words. You’re glad he and Sam are out here, and that you’re not alone. Vaguely, you hear the building door open from across the parking lot. There’s a different set of footsteps now, running ones, that come to a crashing halt in front of you. 

You flinch. 

You hear Jamie inhale jerkily and dare to look upward. 

He looks a mess, eyes red and hair mussed. He kneels down slowly to where you’re curled up. 

He doesn’t even know where to begin with you flinching, but by god every breath Nathan Shelley draws is just one closer to his reckoning. 

Jamie breathes out your name, and finally, finally, you make solid eye contact. He reaches for you, and you take his hand, letting him draw you into his lap.

He holds you and rocks back and forth, whispering into your hair while the others quietly get up and back away. 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. It’s just you and me. I love you and I’ve got you.”

He’s got you, you tell your mind. 

Yes, your brain agrees, he’s got you and he loves you.

[o-sunny-day]

Oh right. The other one.

CW: Undertale rant/analysis

Ive played Undertale- hundreds of times. and lately ive reflected on how the game is supposed to make you feel IN THE MOMENT- since ive kinda forgotten a lot of that. Because of the aforementioned ✨“hundreds of times”✨

Everything ofc still feels just as captivating, but nothings surprising because im not playing it from the perspective of someone who has absolutely no idea whats going to happen next. Sometimes I overlook and forget how the little details are supposed to make you feel/think about the characters. Like how Undyne is implied to be an abusive boss. After you get to know her, then replay, you hear how Papyrus talks about her at first, and see their interaction as you enter Waterfall, and you completely understand!

But BEFORE- youre like “oooohhh she’s threatening him-“

On this topic, I rewatched some playthroughs, and saw their first reactions to geno papyrus death, and I realized. that this room placement. IS SO COOL!!!!

Normally its like- yep! I just befriended/beat papyrus, time to continue on my way- oo hi sans! sure, ill go to Grillbys with you! Even on replays, you’re not really excepting him in any room hes in, im just like “oh yep, theres the man.”

But when you kill Papyrus for the first time, usually on a geno route. That same thing kicks in. You’re not predicting him to be there cause youre focused on the room youre in currently, but when you GET THERE youre like “oh yeah and thats where Sans is” but he’s NOT THERE and you stop for a millisecond and go “oh, no yeah, that makes sense.”

…the silence doesn’t help either.

Its worse that he’s all over the underground too, not just in the start of Waterfall. Even not seeing him in front of the mtt resort is just a slap in the face 😭

If youve gotten to the phase of killing people on purpose to see what will happen, youve also gotten to the phase of KNOWING theres gonna be consequences, so Sans not being there shoudnt hit as hard as it does BUT IT DOES (at least for me)

The typical reactions to Monster death in general that you cant avoid are Undyne and Sans’ speeches, and neutral run phonecalls. DIALOGUE. things that appear because of what you did. But with Sans its not what he does or says (up until the judgment hall) its what he doesn’t do.

He doesn’t bother to show up, to say anything to you because what is there to say??? Ignoring how personal it is for a sec- Sans knows this isnt your first time playing, but doesn’t comment on it (much). Right now he still believes the anomaly just wants to be happy, so gives the benefit of the doubt.

That is until you kill the dude that is impossible to kill on accident, or argue in self defense.

Now Sans knows the anomaly just wants to know what will happen. Doesn’t care if its bad or not, they’re just curious, so theres no point.

STILL he wants them to reset and do something ELSE so he halfway pleads with them in the judgment hall to rethink what they’ve done. The fact that he asks an answerable question feels important to me, like hes searching for something, ANY reason. But maybe hes trying to make you see that- there was no reason. Youre DUMB and you should RESET because- WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS????

What I also find really powerful even on replays, is the silence after he drops lines like this. Especially the judgment hall question. Sometimes I do sit there and soak in the silence like- “jesus. Yeah, why DID i do that?”

My main point of this entire thing is, I LOVE this game, I LOVE Papyrus and his impact on the game even when he isnt there, and I wish I could play it for the first time again, and fall in love with it all over again, but alas, hitting myself with a rock to screw up my memory only works 17% of the time,

so im happy enough sticking with changing my perspective, and taking a moment to remember what it felt like to accidentally kill toriel and realize your actions have consequences, to beat Undyne the Undying, to hug Asriel, to hear that Undertale was getting a “sequel”, and to hear that dreaded line, “Then why did you kill my brother.” all for the first time again.

[sweetnsour1]

9:36:01

Angsty fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 1 of Broken Collection

Go back to part 0

“An echo.”

“An echo?”

“Yeah, ya know-“ you interrupted yourself with a few waves of your hand…an attempt to summon some sense of understanding. “Like the same thing, but not…and it comes later.”

Your thoughts faltered when you looked up at the sound of a chuckle, but your timing was off. The evidence was already being erased from his lips with the pass of a scarred hand. A quick cough and eye roll reset his expression before he tried again.

“Yea, I get what an echo is. Don’t get how one brought ya here.”

You huffed, returning your gaze to your lap. This was all frustrating and so…so stupid. You were frustrating. You were-A slippered foot nudged your leg. He bent to your sprawled-on-the-floor level, hooking a finger beneath your chin, raising your probably bloodshot eyes to meet his naturally red ones. Your eyes watered as they widened at the close proximity. Fuck, he looked so good…and you were so tired.

“Hmm…fix your face.”

“Ugh, I know. I haven’t slep-“

“No, this.” Something ran across your lips, tracing the frown you didn’t know was on display. By the time you could process his touch, it was gone. He was standing in the doorway again. This time with his hand down, palm out. “Well, come on.” The rush of panic was instant, your head was throbbing, your ears were ringing, your thoughts frozen before they could start.

“Huh?”

“Did ya wanna sleep out here?”

“No.”

“Okay then.” He moved closer, and you let him help you up.

Ugh, standing felt like such a pain after a night of dancing with Mina and Kaminari. They were probably still out. You’d bailed after the third spot…once you realized you were in walking distance to-

“Ya good?”

You nodded, seeing he’d led you to the bathroom. “Soft,” you mumbled into the pile of folded somethings he pushed into your arms.

“Remember where everything is?” He paused for an extra moment while you blinked up at him. “Nothing’s changed.”

You must have nodded because he seemed satisfied before heading off to the kitchen. You wandered to the mirror, ignoring your reflection, and placed the clothes on the counter. Nothing’s changed. What a lie. So many things had changed.

However, he wasn’t wrong…quite a few things seemed to have remained: The extra loofahs beneath the sink, the clean towel hanging on the shower door because you’d always forget to grab one, lavender bodywash, color protecting shampoo, the drain cover to catch your hair before it wreaked havoc on the plumbing.

You let the water burn, and steam fill the room. Anything to hide these markers, these tiny headstones detailing who was here for a moment before having to move on. Eventually, you groaned and shut the water off. You couldn’t hide in here forever.

“What am I doinggg?”

“Using all the hot water in the building.”

“Shit!” You wiped at the shower door to reveal an empty bathroom. “The fuck?”

That same chuckle floated toward you. “Don’t worry, still out here.” A hand waved from the hall. “Ya didn’t shut the door.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry, idiot.”

“Sor-“

“There’s food when you’re done.”

It felt so fucking good to be clean. You were halfway through putting lotion on, freezing mid-thigh. You’d bought this…for him at first, but then a larger size when you ended up loving the scent. Now it was just something else on the long list of things you had avoided for months. You finished getting presentable enough to journey to the kitchen.

He really did look so fucking good. His shoulders were relaxed, no longer grinding up towards his ears. His breaths seemed calmer than before. His back and shoulders had gotten bigger in all the best ways, while his waist seemed smaller somehow. He finally had the undercut you’d pushed for years ago, but he’d never wanted to try. He really, truly seemed like he was doing so much fucking better. But you knew that…you knew…you had said…you-

You jumped as his hands grabbed your face. When the hell had he turned around?

“The hell? You okay?” His thumbs traced along your cheekbones. Oh, tears.

“Yea, yea…just tired.” You tugged free of his grip, backing away to sit in the living room, burrowing into the corner of the sofa you used to like best. He half followed, and you could feel the question coming. He opened his mouth as you rolled your eyes. “Promise.” He shut it again with a tch, disappearing into the kitchen again. It’s like you were running lines from a script you’d memorized.

The food he finally brought over was probably delicious. You could only register it was warm and filling. It was hard to focus on anything really. Too much alcohol, too little sleep, too many memories, just too much.

“So an echo?”

You paused, noticing you had slid a pillow between the two of you at some point.

“Mmm. It’s probably better if we don’t unpack that.”

The cushions shifted as he stretched his long arms up and back down to rest along the back of the sofa. You found your gaze ripped away from the shoulders you couldn’t stop staring at by that same soft laugh you’d missed so much.

“Probably. Still wanna hear it though.”

“It’s just a theory…”

“Ya love those.”

“Mhmm.”

“So what is it this time?”

“It’s just…we broke up.”

“That’s true.”

“Well we broke up because we thought-“

“We?”

“Well we broke up because I thought we weren’t bringing out the best in each other anymore. Everything was harder and stressful and exhausting. We both put work first, but that made us feel shitty at home. But if we took time off to be at home, we felt shitty about not being at work. We were too similar and enabled so many bad habits.”

“Yea yea, I remember all that from before. Now what’s this echo?”

“Yea, so…we broke up because I thought that might be true. Now it’s been a while. And we’re both doing much better. Great even. And it’s just like a shitty echo of the heartbreak. Ya know? Because it’s like proof that we’re better apart than together. And…”

“And?”

“And so I guess that’s why I’m here.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Doin’ great, huh?” His fingers ran through his blonde hair. “Are you doing better?”

“What? I mean…I’ve never been ranking higher than I am now. And the agency-“

“Not what I asked.”

“You asked-“

“Not work. Are you doing better?”

“Oh…yes?” Finally you were looking when his eyes crinkled and his laugh was set loose. Pretty.

“Now ask me.”

“Ask you?” He was no longer laughing but his mouth looked ready to release another at any moment. “Um, are you doing better?”

His hand was just warm enough for you to not flinch as it made contact with your neck. His thumb stroked the side of your face. Your eyes closed and you leaned into the touch you’d stayed away from for most of the year. You opened them again, unsure of how long he’d let you rest in the literal palm of his hand. He was fully grinning now.

“Not at fuckin’ all.”

“Not at fuck-wait not at all?” Your thoughts were getting more sluggish by the minute.

“Nope.”

“But-“

“Yea work’s great, but I’m always great at work.”

“But…You seem so relaxed and happy and I dunno…different?”

“No shit. You showed up at my door like I ordered delivery.” He laughed at your pout before it was fully formed. “Guess you’re too exhausted to wonder why I was awake at two in the fuckin’ morning.”

“But…but you go to bed at eight.”

“Been a while since i could do that.”

“Why?”

“You’re not the only one getting chased by echoes, kid.”

“Oh.”

Mmmmmm still unsure where this one is going, but these two are tugging me along. So we’ll see

Next part

Masterlist

[something-tofightfor]

A Wonderful, Awful Idea / 5

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 9,438

Summary: You and Pero have talked things through - and it's time to figure out what comes next for you.

For both of you, though, that means being open, honest ... and asking for exactly what you want.

Rating: M/E : This is a smutty one, friends. It's finally happening.

Author's Note:

The end is here, and I cannot thank you enough for the support and interest you've shown in this story. It definitely grew from what I first envisioned it to be, and I'm really happy with the outcome - I hope you are, too. It's always so intimidating to write for a new character, but to know that one of my favorite Pero writers - I'm looking at you, @oonajaeadira - has enjoyed this take on him means a TON.

The title comes from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Thank you for reading!

*dividers by @/strangergraphics

You both sat on the couch while you ate, and Pero filled you in on exactly what had happened with the power at the party. 

“Something in the kitchen overloaded the wiring.” He waved his hand in the air, fingers clutching the remnants of a sandwich. “And when they tried to reset that breaker, they tripped the whole building.” He laughed, shaking his head and swearing under his breath. “That’s how it all came back so quickly.” 

“I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious.” He nodded as he chewed. “Did they get pissed at you since you weren’t right there to protect Christina?” 

“No.” He took another bite. “The assignment was never to be right beside her at all times. William and I were further away than her team, and I just happened to be near you.” You didn’t quite think that was the truth; Pero had to have searched for you in order to be that close, since you’d purposely moved almost all the way across the party space. “And I got to where they were as soon as I could to assess the situation. I did my job.” 

“You protected me.” You took a bite of the food he’d gotten you, giving yourself a few seconds to think. “You were there to protect someone else, and you still … You were mad at me, Pero. I didn’t expect …” 

“I did. And I would do it again. I told you that.” He sipped from his cup,  lips wrapping around the straw. “Even upset, I was still worried about you.” Pero balled up the wrapper from his meal and then leaned back against the couch cushions. “I was actually going to pull you to the side at the party and apologize because I acted like an asshole. But you didn’t give me the chance.” He looked past you and his eyes widened. “It’s almost midnight.” 

You looked, too, and with a smile you realized that as soon as the clock struck 12, you could be the first person to wish Pero a Merry Christmas. I wonder if he’s ever had anyone with him for a holiday like this before. “I’m sad we don’t have our hats from the meet and greet.” You looked back at him, grinning. “Santa Pero tucking me into bed on Christmas Eve would be -” 

He groaned, covering his face with both hands as you laughed, reaching over to settle your hand between his shoulders. “You would like that, wouldn’t you.” 

“I would.” Leaning in, you let your mouth hover just above his ear. “I would like that very much, Pero Tovar.” You weren’t used to having to take such a lead with men, but until Pero truly believed that your interest was genuine - and not short term - you had no issue with being a little more forward than usual to get results. Because I don’t think it’ll be this way forever. He just needs to get comfortable.

“I kept your toothbrush.” He looked over at you, a half smile on his lips. “I hoped you’d get  to use it again.” Really? You both sat up and Pero pointed at the hallway. “I’m going to clean up out here, if you need to do anything to get ready for bed.” He stood, reaching out with one hand. “I have one request though.” Arching a brow, you waited for him to continue. “Wait… and let me help you out of those clothes.” 

It took a little while for the two of you to do what you needed to do, but the whole time, your heart was racing. 

You figured he was nervous, too, but you hoped that it was in a good way, Pero’s desire for you outweighing any lingering apprehension he felt about the situation. By the time you made your way into his bedroom, flipping the light switch on and taking a look around the space, you were determined to do whatever it took to put him at ease. It keeps me from getting into my own head, too. 

There were a few photos on the walls - mostly of Pero, Lin and William, but there were a few more, too, that looked like they’d been taken on his phone and printed out. Some of them were scenery, some of them were cityscapes, and you made a mental note to ask him about them - and where they’d been taken. Later. Not tonight. 

His room was cozy, and out of the other places in his home that you’d spent time in, it felt the most like him. It wasn’t just because it smelled like Pero - it also seemed to be the most lived in. “I like seeing you in here.” He appeared in the doorway, and then leaned against it. “It’s unexpected, but I like it.” 

“Do you?” He nodded, eyeing you up and down. I like being in here. “Your bed looks comfortable.” You pointed, leaning back and against the dresser. “Is it?” 

“You’ll find out soon.” Pero stepped forward, his motion smooth and slow, almost graceful. “Before anything happens, I …” He stopped in front of you, lifting one hand to tilt your chin up. “After what I told you earlier, I figured you might have some … concerns.” Oh. The paying for sex. I didn’t … “It’s been months since I’ve done that. I’m careful, and always use protection. And afterward…” He wet his lips. “I get tested regularly, since all of my relationships are short-lived. I haven’t been with anyone since the last time I got results, so …” He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, holding it up. “I can show you, but -”

“I trust you.” You put a hand at the center of his chest. “And I know you’re going to say that it’s stupid to trust someone with something like that, but I do.” Because trust is important. He looked confused and then the expression turned to acceptance, Pero’s gaze moving over your face. “Anything else?” 

“No.” He paused, and then frowned. “Well, yes.” You smiled at that, giving him a chance to continue. “I might need …” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Just be patient with me, please?” 

“Patient?” He nodded slowly. “Of course, Pero.” But what does that even mean? “Do you need anything else, or are we in here for the night?” He thought for a few seconds and then moved his head from side to side, eyes locked with yours. 

“I only need you.” Inhaling sharply through your nose at the confession, you didn’t even think about it before you leaned in and kissed him, the tips of your fingers curling inward and against the material of his shirt. His hands settled in at your waist to hold you close, and when Pero returned the kiss, he did it with purpose, his full lips moving with yours like it wasn’t a new thing. 

You felt his tongue probing along your lower one and parted them for him, hoping that Pero wouldn’t tease you the same way he had earlier. Seconds later, you got your wish when it slipped past your lips to meet yours, Pero’s fingers digging in and making you sigh. He stopped immediately, breaking the kiss and backing off enough that you saw the wide eyed expression on his face. This must be the patience thing. 

“That was a good noise. Please don’t stop.” You moved your hand as you spoke, sliding it over so that you could begin to undo his buttons. “This shirt is a great color for you.” Breaking eye contact, you watched the motion of your fingers and listened to each of Pero’s sharp inhales as you moved downward. “I can’t wait to see it on the floor.” 

He snorted at that and you were thankful for it, the sound confirming that he wasn’t getting too lost in his own head about what was happening. “I was thinking the same thing earlier tonight about what you are wearing.” He spoke quietly, pulling the bottom hem of your shirt free from where it was tucked in. “But I was also wondering what you have on beneath it.” 

You reached the last button before his waist and then looked back up, biting your lip. “You’re about to find out.” His smile spread slowly, the expression one you weren’t used to seeing him wear. Pero tipped his head to the right and dropped a kiss at the corner of your mouth, hands sliding up and beneath your shirt so that his palms were flush with your skin. 

It was your turn to gasp then, the warmth of his hands comforting. He continued to kiss his way across the lower half of your face, lips skating over your cheek and then toward your ear before dropping down to follow the line of your jaw. Your hands stayed busy, moving lower to the button on his pants and popping it free, which gave you a chance to pull his shirt loose, too, and finish undoing it. 

He groaned when you touched his abdomen, pushing the sides of the shirt apart, and when Pero backed away, there was a wild look in his eyes.”I like this. The … slowness? You are taking your time, and… it is new.” Glancing over his shoulder so that you could see the clock on his nightstand, your eyebrows shot up. Perfect. 

“I’m just enjoying opening my first present.” You wrinkled your nose. “Merry Christmas, by the way. According to your clock, it’s after midnight.” He turned to look, too, and then said your name when he faced you again. 

“Sorry that I am not wearing a bow.” He wet his lips, the flash of his tongue distracting you. “To make this more festive.” 

“You don’t need one.” Using one finger, you prodded at the chain around his neck. “This is shiny enough.” And. “And I think you should leave it on.” That took him by surprise, but Pero quickly agreed, the arch of one eyebrow telling you that he was intrigued by your request. “Help me out here.” You moved your hands to his shirt again, easing it back and over his shoulders. “Let go of me for a second.” 

He did. It only took you moments to remove the silvery fabric, revealing that beneath it, he had on a black v-neck t shirt that was stretched over his chest and shoulders. Holy shit look at him. “What is that look for?” 

“I… you…” Gesturing with one hand, you laughed nervously. “You’re still almost fully dressed, and …” You trailed off as he reached down and pulled the shirt up and over his head, giving you your first real glimpse of skin. 

“There. Now I have solved your problems.” He grinned, scratching at the back of his neck with one hand.

“No, you’ve given me about a million more.” That made him laugh, and when Pero reached for your hand and squeezed it, leading you the few steps toward his bed, you followed. You eyed him as you walked, mapping the way his muscles looked as they moved beneath his skin and the way his unbuttoned pants sat at his waist, hugging his hips. 

“I think,” he started, turning back to look at you and reaching for your shirt, his fingers working the buttons. “That I enjoy you looking at me this way almost as much as I enjoyed the way you spoke to Christina that first night.” He paused, palming the swell of your breast with one hand and then returned to his task. “Would you say the same thing to anyone else that talked about me like she did?”

“Would you want me to?” You were breathless as you spoke, the feeling of his touch and the heat of his gaze making it hard for you to concentrate. “Is that something that I can… oh God, Pero, please just…” You broke off mid-sentence as he finished and began to push your shirt over your shoulders, his hands sliding slowly up your body. “Keep touching me.”

The smile remained on his face as he removed your shirt, the material sliding down your arms and then onto the floor. Instead of putting his hands back on your torso he used them to cradle your face, tilting it so that when he leaned in, your mouth was perfectly lined up with his. “Yes.” He mumbled the words between kisses, one hand siding back to the nape of your neck and the other dropping to your shoulder. “I would want you to.” 

You whimpered at that, wrapping your arms around Pero and stepping forward to press yourself against him. The feeling of his bare chest pressed to your body made you almost dizzy, and when your fingers dug into his back for balance, He grunted, pulling on the strap of your bra and dragging it over your shoulder. 

As much as you wanted to slow things down and savor the first time you went to bed with Pero, you knew that as soon as he removed your bra, there’d be no going back. And that’s fine. It surprised you when he broke the kiss and spun you around, winding his arms around you from behind and then ducking his head to kiss your shoulder. Wait, what is he… 

Pero rocked his hips forward, the hand on your stomach urging you backward while the other one slipped downward, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. Tipping your head back so that you could lean it against his shoulder, you sighed, closing your eyes. He was hard beneath his own pants, the length of him pressed against you, and when you reached for the hand on your belly, guiding it upward, he let you. 

He got the hint - Pero using that hand to paw at your chest, the contrast between his skin and your bra moving against your skin almost distracting you from the fact that his other hand kept moving lower and lower, pushing your pants with it. “Pero, I -” That was all you got out before he kissed you again, the angle not the most comfortable but still welcome, as was the way he bit down on your lower lip before sucking it between his. Fuck, I am lucky. 

He pushed the lace of your bra - one of the ones you saved for special occasions - to the side and then swirled a thumb over that nipple, the motion making your back arch and pushing you into him again. Pero’s mouth moved from yours back down to your shoulder and stayed there, the scrape of his stubbled chin sharp in contrast to the way he touched you elsewhere. But I don’t want him behind me. “What is wrong?” He spoke quietly, turning his head inward and nuzzling against your jaw. “You are stiff.” 

“I want…” You hummed, reaching down to stop the movement of the hand at your waist. “I want to look at you, Pero. I want to see you, not just feel you.” Turning to face him, you nodded at the sight of the confused expression he wore. “We only get this once.” 

You hoped he understood what you meant - that after that night, you’d never get the chance to be together for the very first time again. And I want it to feel personal, not like … not like it’s just something that’s happening. “Whatever you want.” He smiled again, hands gliding down to squeeze your hips. “I cannot wait to see all of you.” 

Taking that as a sign, you reached up and behind you, unhooking your bra and then shrugging out of it before letting it drop to the ground. He watched that, lips parted, and then looked back at you, his palms following the contours of your body as they rose. Yes. Finally. You arched your back again, encouraging him to keep going, and when Pero’s hands finally made it to your chest and he touched you, you moaned, closing your eyes. 

As soon as he heard that, his touch went from light and exploratory to certain, pushing your breasts together as he leaned down and mouthed at your collarbone again. And when he moved lower, you urged him to continue with one hand in his hair, fingers tangled in his locks. 

He took one nipple between his lips and sucked on it before releasing it only to follow that with a few quick flicks of his tongue before switching to the other side. You would have been content to stand there for hours, but Pero straightened up, his eyes blazing as he met your gaze again. “I think it’s time we get into that bed.” He cleared his throat, both hands still stroking over your skin. “Do you want me to turn the lights off?” 

“No.” You answered immediately, flattening one hand against his chest. “Unless that makes you more comfortable.” 

Your answer took him by surprise, but Pero wasted no time walking you backwards the few steps it took you to reach the bed. And when your shins made contact with the frame, he stopped you, both hands moving to the button - and zipper - of your pants, undoing them swiftly. He pushed them down so that you could step out of them, but left your underwear in place. 

You were stunned that you didn’t feel self conscious standing in front of him in so little, because it hadn’t been that way with your previous partners. You sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Pero and watching as he put a hand on his hip and stared at you. A few seconds later, his smile widened and Pero reached for his waist, finishing with the zipper and easing his pants down. 

He was wearing trunks, the waistband low on his hips, and the legs stretched tight around his upper thighs. “Wow, Pero.” You licked your lips, head shaking back and forth as you eyed him, lingering on his torso - and waist. “I had no idea you were hiding that under all those clothes.” 

“I could say the same about you.” He reached down, adjusting the elastic over one hip without looking away from you. “Beautiful.” Heat rushed to your cheeks then, and you ducked your head but still heard Pero’s quiet chuckle. “You do not like compliments either, hmm?”

“I’m not used to them coming from you.” Cautiously, you looked back up and put your hands out, waiting for him to take them. “Want to get in here with me?” He nodded, taking a half step forward and standing between your legs. “C’mere, Pero.” 

He leaned down, mouth finding yours again, and the series of events that followed happened almost before you could process it. 

As you kissed, Pero put one knee on top of the mattress and balanced his weight on it, using the forward motion of his body to urge you onto your back. He let go of your hands, sliding one of his beneath your head while he flattened the other palm on the bed, allowing him to hover over you. You moved your hands over his back, exploring the expanse of muscle as it flexed beneath your touch. I can’t believe this is happening. 

When you moved them down to his waist - and then lower, palms curved to follow his contours, Pero growled into your kiss, his hips snapping forward to push his length against the front of your hip. Your fingers curled inward, holding him in place - and Pero took the hint. 

He lowered his body more, grinding against you and letting you feel the weight of him. “Pero we need to move up. I…” Sighing as he paused long enough to breathe - and kiss the column of your throat - you shivered the words out. “I want us to be comfortable, and…” He backed off, giving you an opportunity to resituate yourself - and then he was on you again. 

He straddled you, legs spread wide so that when he leaned forward, he could continue the same motion as earlier. Your hands returned to the same place they’d been before, too, but instead of just touching him, you pushed your fingers beneath the material and held onto him, guiding his hips with skin-to-skin contact for the first time. 

But Pero didn’t kiss your mouth again; instead he worked his way down your throat to your chest, lips trailing along the length of your collarbone before he bit down gently, accompanied by a thrust of his hips. You could feel the cool metal of the chain as it dragged against your skin, your mind trying to focus on that and the feeling of his mouth at the same time - and failing. You were overwhelmed by him, and he’d barely touched you. I haven’t really touched him, either. 

He dragged his tongue over your skin and kissed his way down, drawing one nipple back between his lips before releasing it with a pop. “I could do this all night.” He spoke without moving away from you, the breath from each exhale warm as it hit your damp skin. “But I am impatient, and I’m sure you are, too.” 

He moved off of you and then laid down beside you, stretching out along the length of your body. When you turned your head to look at him, you weren’t expecting him to kiss you right away, his hand laying lightly against your cheek. 

Wiggling your hips, you settled in, heartbeat rapid, even after he backed away. “So I have to be patient, but you get to be impatient? That doesn’t seem fair.” He rolled his eyes, mouth opening to reply - but you didn’t give him the chance to. “Lay back.” He did as you asked, and then you propped yourself up on one elbow, taking him in. 

You were impatient too, but the desire to remind him that you were thinking beyond that night was more important. I need to show him that I want him. Sliding your hand over his stomach, you focused on the skin beneath his navel and above his waistband, fingertips circling over the dark trail of hair there before you moved back up, dragging the edges of your nails along his skin. Pero grunted, gritting his teeth - but didn’t look away. 

You leaned forward and kissed his chest, closing your eyes as you pressed your lips to his skin. You kept your hand moving, too, covering as much of his body as you could without wavering in your attention. There were parts of him that were more sensitive than others - his body jerked when you reached a spot on his side that was about halfway up his ribcage, and he groaned at the feeling of your tongue dragging slowly over the base of his throat, the breath leaving him in a whoosh when you took the chain between your teeth and tugged. 

But when your hand moved back down at the same time you redirected your kisses to the underside of his jaw, Pero stopped you, his fingers closing around yours. “No. Stop.” You raised your head in concern, but he didn’t look angry - just overstimulated. “If you touch me now, I will not make it inside of you.” He swallowed as your eyes widened in surprise. “Next time. I promise you, but … not yet.” 

“Ok, Pero.” You took a deep breath. “I understand.” He squeezed your hand and then released it, and you used it to balance yourself as you lowered your head again, mouth returning to its previous path. Pero’s hand moved almost lazily up your side as you left a trail of kisses across his face, though you avoided his mouth. You lingered at the patch in his beard before turning your head inward and nuzzling against his nose before taking another breath and deciding that if you were in - you were all in. 

When you pressed your lips to the bottom edge of his scar for the first time, Pero’s hold on you tightened, but you didn’t let that deter you. You followed the length of it with your lips, mindful of the fact that he could tell you to stop at any time, but it wasn’t until you softly kissed his closed eyelid - and felt dampness beneath your lips - that you pulled away. “Pero? Is everything… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have -”

“No.” He moved faster than you thought was possible from his position, rolling the two of you over so that you were on your back and he was above you again. “You are … no one has ever…” He couldn’t get the words out, but you understood what he was trying to say. “You are too good for me.” His voice was unsteady, but he kissed you in the pause before he spoke again, mouth gentle. “I do not deserve someone like you after what I -” He needs to stop this. 

“You do, Pero.” Reaching up, you took his face between his hands, forcing him to look at you. “You deserve good things. You deserve to be happy. And all of those people that treated you like shit don’t matter, because the way they were to you says more about them than it does about you. And I know this is entirely too fucking much for the first time with someone, but you need to hear it. If I have to keep reminding you that that’s the truth, I’ll do it every single time we’re together, if that’s what it takes.” 

He was stunned - you saw the surprise in his eyes … but to your relief, he didn’t contradict you. “If you say so.” He gave you a small smile. “Did I ruin it?”

“No.” Biting the inside of your lip, you cocked your head to the side. “You can go ahead and find out just how much you didn’t ruin it if you want.” He looked confused, but after a few moments seemed to understand, shifting back into position next to you and then dragging his hand down the length of your body. “You can touch me, Pero. I -” 

That was as far as you got before he did as you asked. Pero’s eyes went wide as he felt the dampness of the only piece of clothing you still wore, your back arching as you reacted to his touch. “You are … this is…” He looked down, chest heaving as he watched the movement. “Shit.” 

He touched you through the thin material first, two fingers gliding along the outline of you, and when you widened the spread of your legs to give him more room, he took the opportunity to add a third finger and some pressure, his attention still on his hand. But that’s fine, you rationalized as he swirled his fingers in a slow circle. I want him to watch. 

You reached down then, lifting your hips again to push the waistband down and over your thighs. Pero helped you out, tugging them further and exposing you to him for he first time. He slid his hand back up the inside of your thigh, and when he finally touched you, you moaned at the feeling, closing your eyes and pressing your head into the pillow. “Pero.” 

You didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice, but it did something to Pero, who dropped his head, lips latching onto your shoulder while his fingers kept moving. He parted you with two of them, using a third to circle slowly over and over in the space between. It felt incredible, Pero’s touch not at all what you’d expected, and when he widened the circle and extended his fingers down, you curled your toes and opened your eyes - one hand fisting the blankets beside you and the other clamping down against his bare back. 

He slid one finger into you and you rocked your hips forward, Pero replacing lips with teeth as you tilted your chin down, burying your nose in his hair. One finger became two, Pero thrusting them in and out of you slowly. He was slow and methodical, entirely focused on what he was doing - and you couldn’t get enough. 

Widening the spread of your legs even more, you rolled your hips to meet each thrust, mouth open as you took and released quick, shallow breaths. You didn’t even register that he’d released your skin from between his teeth until Pero’s head rose and he spoke your name. “I think you’re ready for me. I hope you’re ready for me, because -”

“Yes. I - ohhh.” He kept his eyes on you as his hand continued to move, and even though it was difficult, you didn’t close yours. You caught the smile he gave you as he watched your reaction, Pero’s lips quirking upward and his eyes darkening. “Need you, Pero.” Reaching down, you touched his wrist, pushing on it gently. “Please.” 

He removed his fingers slowly, and you hummed as they slipped free. “Give me a second.” He brought his hand up, eyeing how slick they were - and then before you had a chance to say anything, he popped them into his mouth, eyes closing at the taste of you. You gasped, but it didn’t cover up the sound of his deep, satisfied groan. Holy fuck, I wasn’t expecting that, I didn’t… 

He rolled away from you, fingers still in his mouth, and then you heard the bedside table drawer open. It’s happening. But Pero stood up suddenly, climbing out of the bed and then tossing a condom toward you. “What are -”

“What do you want?” He glanced down as he spoke, hands at his hips and beginning to push his underwear down. “No, that is the wrong question.” He looked back up, the smile back on his face, though that time, it was more of a smirk. “How do you want this?” 

“I…” You were torn between looking him in the eye and wanting to watch the final bits of his skin come into view. “Pero, I…” He laughed, the sound low, and then stepped out of his underwear, briefly bending over before he straightened up, giving you an unobstructed view at his entire body. Wow. Ok. You wanted to touch him - wanted to know what he felt like in your hand and sliding between your fingers. You wanted to taste him, too, the thought of weight of him against your tongue and the heat of him as he came consuming you. But that’s not happening tonight. 

Pero reached down with the same hand he’d touched you with to wrap his fingers around his length, which distracted you again. Damn him. “Well?” He stroked himself lazily, and you filed the motion away for later, paying attention to the way he held himself and where he squeezed just a little extra. His hands are so goddamn big. “I need to know how -”

“Whatever you’re used to?” You rested one hand on your abdomen, turning your cheek toward the pillow without breaking eye contact. “I want the opposite.” It was yet another risk to ask Pero to consciously choose a different position and approach to sex than he usually did, but you hoped that he understood why you were asking for it - and what you hoped it would signal. “Is that alright?” 

He was surprised by your request, but it didn’t keep him immobile for long, Pero putting one knee on the mattress and climbing back into bed. He reached for the foil square with his free hand and only let go of himself when he moved to open it. “It’s more than alright.” He looked down, and then resituated his hand at his base as he rolled the condom on, nodding his head. “It is a good reminder.” 

He crawled toward you then and leaned over, using the knuckles on one hand to stroke your cheek. “A reminder?” 

“Yes.” Pero stretched out beside you, rolling onto his side and facing you. “That this is not that.” He understands. Pero closed the distance between you, his hand on your side. When he kissed you, it wasn’t quite timid but there was a slight hesitation before he fully committed to it, his full lips slotted with yours before he parted them, urging you to do the same. It’s going to be OK, Pero.

As the kiss deepened, he used the hand on your side to guide your leg into place, positioning it so that your thigh rested atop his hip. You could feel him that way - pressing against you, each shallow flex of his hips increasing the contact. 

“Are you sure?” He spoke between kisses, his damp forehead pressed to yours. “That you want this? With me?” 

“I am.” You nodded, moving your hand from the back of his head to his shoulder. “Are you?” He didn’t speak, but Pero reached between your bodies, his fingers brushing against your center again as he lined himself up. You kept eye contact with him as he inched forward, and were unable to look away, even as he used a slow thrust to push inside of you. Finally. 

You nodded after a few seconds and then Pero rocked forward again, moving his hand to the back of your thigh to pull you closer. “I need a minute.” His voice was strained, and you could see that he was gritting his teeth. “If I move, I -” You kissed him then, interrupting his words and trying to keep your own hips from moving. It’s alright. 

He didn’t need to explain to you, because you understood. You were already tightly wound from the way he’d touched you, and thanks to the way he was holding you open, you knew that once he found a rhythm, you’d be able to come from the friction of your body against his alone. And if I finish quick, he will, too. 

Pero licked into your mouth, tongue dragging over the edges of your teeth, and when he moved his hips, you did, too, meeting his motion. As he picked up speed, the kiss turned sloppier and his grip on your thigh tightened. You threaded your fingers through his hair, gripping it and tugging, mouth hanging open as you lost yourself in him. 

You stopped trying to kiss him back and instead turned your head so that you could pant into his ear, Pero’s cheek pressed against the pillow and each of his exhales hitting your throat. He kept hold of your thigh and lengthened his strokes, slowing down. What is he… 

When he rolled forward, pushing you onto your back, you went willingly, Pero angling his hips so that he could keep moving. But when he pulled all the way out of you you cried out, fingers tightening in his hair and against his shoulder. “Why did you stop?” You gasped the words out, eyes wide open as you stared up at him. “Pero, why did -”

“I did not stop.” He murmured the words, leaning down to kiss you again as he ran the hand on your thigh along your skin. “I paused so I could make us more comfortable.” After sitting up, he reached down with both hands and widened the spread of your legs so that he could kneel between them. You didn’t miss it when his gaze moved over the length of your body, or the way his jaw twitched at the sight of you, Pero’s fingers curling against your thighs. 

“You’re a fucking tease, Pero Tovar.” You covered your face with both hands. “And you know it.” He laughed, the sound low, and then you felt the mattress dip as he shifted, one of his hands releasing your leg. I want to see this. 

Propping yourself up on both elbows, you looked down and watched as he concentrated, eyes moving between himself and you as he re-aligned. Pero’s shoulders rose and fell as he took and released a deep breath… and then he was sliding into you again, the sight of his length disappearing into your body making your eyes close as you collapsed back onto the bed. 

He started with deep, slow thrusts as he leaned forward, hands moving to the blankets on either side of your body. By the time he’d stretched out enough that he could bend his elbows and rest his weight on them, those movements had quickened. He went deeper from that angle, each forward flex of his hips accompanied by a quiet grunt and met with a reflex thrust of your own. 

You flattened one foot on the bed and bent your knee, angling that leg outward while wrapping the other one around his hip again, your heel digging into the back of his calf and urging him even closer - which was next to impossible. As you closed your eyes, you raised both hands and dug your nails into his shoulders, not even trying to conceal the noises you made - and to your delight, Pero didn’t, either. 

You’d remember them forever - the way he grunted and groaned, a quiet snarl escaping his lips when you lifted your hips and met a particularly sudden thrust of his, which was followed by an equally devastating one, his head dropping so that the tip of his nose met the front of your shoulder. He kept it there for the next few minutes, his bedroom filled with the sounds both of you made, but when he spoke your name, pulling it from deep within himself, you forced your eyes open, watching as he raised his head and looked down at you. 

Pero didn’t falter in his movement, and you bit your lip at the way he gritted his teeth, nose wrinkling before he was able to speak again. “You feel incredible.” He swallowed, nodding as he continued. “Fucking perfect.” It was enough to make you shiver, and you knew he caught the motion when he actually smiled, Pero leaning down to kiss you on the mouth. “Will you come this way? Is -”

“Mmhmm.” You closed your eyes and gasped, back arching off of the bed when he swiveled his hips, the length of him buried inside you. “Oh, fuck, Pero.” He switched to shallow thrusts, giving you a chance to collect yourself. “Can you?” 

“Of course.” He licked his lips, nodding. “I am holding back, I -” 

“Don’t.” Don’t you dare. “I don’t want you to.” Moving one hand from his back to between your bodies, you nodded again, flexing your calf muscles. “Come, Pero. Let me feel you.” You dragged your hand over your skin and moved your fingers into place, making sure to graze his skin with the edges of your nails. He looked confused for a second, but when you went lower, spreading your fingers wide enough so that you could feel where he entered you, the look in his eyes changed to one of understanding. “Fuck me like you’ve waited three years to do it, Pero.”

He sped up again, maintaining eye contact for a few seconds before he slammed them shut and tilted his head back. You closed yours, too, sighing. It felt good, the length of him sliding between your fingers before you moved your hand into place, two fingers pressed against your skin and gliding in a slow circle. But before you could find your own rhythm, Pero slowed down again, a growl tearing from his throat. 

“No. Not like this. Not with you.” You opened your eyes, the motion of your hand stuttering - and it stopped when you saw the way he was looking at you. He’s never looked at … oh, shit. Pero’s brow was furrowed, his lips parted, and he was staring at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted to look at again. “Let me watch you.” 

He sunk into you all the way and then paused, rotating his hips in a slow circle. It trapped your hand between the two of you, and Pero’s eyes were molten when he spoke again, voice low and full of need. 

“Let me feel you.” 

He drew his hips back, giving your hand the space it needed to begin moving again. You were hesitant. But when he nodded, arching a brow, you let out a long breath and did just that. 

Starting slow, you circled your fingers, dragging them through your slick and spreading it over your skin. You hummed at your own touch, letting your mind wander to Pero’s fingers earlier, and when he started to move again, gradually increasing his pace to match the motion of your hand, you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. “Pero, it won’t…” You hummed, adding pressure and a little speed. “It’s going to be quick, and -”

“Good.” He leaned down, mouth finding yours briefly. “We have waited too long.” 

You agreed, and that was all you needed to speed up more, touching yourself the way you usually did. Eyes opening again, you found that Pero was still watching you, though his were heavy lidded - evidence of his body’s response to yours. 

As the moments passed, you felt your own body’s response - a heat in your belly, the quickening of your heartbeat, muscles tensing as you got closer and closer to a moment that hours earlier, you hadn’t imagined was possible. “Pero, I -” 

He smiled at you, nodding, and when you let go of him to drop your hand to the mattress, he grabbed for it without missing a beat, linking your fingers together and bringing both of them up next to your head. His grip tightened with your gasp, Pero’s hips flexing forward at the same time you thrust yours upward, increasing the friction. 

It was enough. 

You came with a gasp, fingers stuttering as your muscles clenched around him, Pero’s motion continuing as your toes curled and you squeezed his hand. He mumbled two words - that’s it - and you watched as his smile grew, your own mouth hanging open as you pressed your head into the pillow. Oh my god. 

You cried out as a wave of pleasure coursed through you, the feel of him moving within you prolonging the moment - and then Pero was coming, too, one last sharp thrust burying him as deep as possible as he finished. You felt him as he filled the condom, Pero’s release coming in spurts as your body pulled him in deeper and sent a second wave through you, making you shudder beneath him. Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, I… 

Your hand fell away from your body and Pero’s head dropped again, his breath ragged as he rested his forehead against your shoulder and more of his weight on you. 

Neither of you said anything for almost a minute, and to your surprise, it was Pero who opened his mouth first, head turning inward so that when he spoke, it was against the side of your neck. “I do not want to move.” He sighed and then kissed your skin, lips pressed to your pulse point. “Are you alright? You -” 

“Pero.” Unlinking your fingers, you reached up and dragged them through his hair, pulling the sweat-damp strands away from his face. “I’m more than alright.” He lifted his head to look at you, eyes wide. “And I don’t want to move either, but if we don’t, I’ll fall asleep right here, and that would be messy.” 

His lips twitched into a half smile and before you could say anything, he was kissing you, tongue dipping past your lips and into your mouth. I’ll never say no to this. He kissed you deeply, only breaking it when he needed to breathe… but the smile was still there and his eyes were bright - Pero obviously sated but still alert. “You’re right.” Without saying anything else, he reached down between you and then pulled out, rolling away and laying on his back beside you. 

You missed him immediately, and weren’t able to conceal your gasp at the way it felt to realize that, head turning to the side so that you could look at him. “Pero, I -”

“No.” Turning his head, he winked at you. “Not yet. We will talk when we are done.” 

Ten minutes later, you stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in one of his robes only to find the bedroom empty. 

Your pulse had settled and you felt calmer, though you were still reeling from what had happened between you. You hadn’t stopped smiling while you were in the bathroom - even as you washed your face and brushed your teeth again, the expression had stayed put. And it’ll be there for a long time, too. Because … that was everything I wanted. 

“Are you going to sleep in that?” He spoke from behind you, and when you turned toward the sound, you saw that he was holding two bottles of water, his shoulder pressed against the doorframe. “Because if you are, you are overdressed.” 

He’d only put on his underwear, and you didn’t even try to keep from staring at him greedily, taking in the sight of his almost naked body. “I didn’t plan on it.” You untied the belt and let it drop to the floor, the sides of the robe splitting apart to expose a strip of skin at the center of your body. “If that’s alright.” 

“It is preferred.” He moved closer, holding one of the bottles out to you. “I usually wear nothing to bed.” That was a piece of information you filed away, too, and after draining almost half of the bottle, you shrugged the robe down and over your shoulders before tossing it to the side and getting back into bed - though you climbed under the covers that time. 

He flipped the light switch off and then drank deeply from the bottle before setting it down and taking off his underwear. Even in the low light coming in through the slats in the window blinds, you could see him clearly, watching his outline before he climbed into bed and moved as close to you as he could get. “What were you going to say earlier?” He flattened his hand atop the pillow as he spoke, though he didn’t touch you. 

“I was going to say,” you started as you stroked the length of his bare arm, knuckles dragging along his skin. “That when you just … rolled away? It was … I missed …” Just say it. “It’s so stupid, Pero, but you were there and then you weren’t, and I realized that -”

“It is not stupid.” He moved his hand enough so that he could touch your face, his thumb sliding over your cheek. “I was … abrupt. I will work on that.” He inched closer, his cheek scraping across the pillow. “With you, hopefully.” He blinked slowly, and you felt as he held his breath, waiting for your response. Oh, Pero. 

“We might need a lot of practice.” Biting your lip, you also moved your head closer, though you didn’t break eye contact. “But I’m up for it.” A smile spread slowly across his face, Pero’s eyes widening slightly before he closed them, mouth finding yours in a brief - but tender - kiss. 

“Practice is the only way to improve.” Moving his hand from your face to your side, Pero curled his fingers over your hip. “I hope that tonight was what you wanted it to be.” Is he seriously questioning this? 

“It started out kind of rocky, but yeah, Pero. It was.” You paused, thinking. “It is.” It made your head spin to think about everything that had happened throughout the previous evening - and the weeks leading up to it. But it’s worth it. He’s worth it. “How do you feel about this?”

“About this or about you?” He narrowed his eyes, but then grinned. “Because the answer is the same for both: I feel good. This is what I want.” He kissed you again, nodding. “You are what I want.” 

His direct response caught you off guard. But as the kiss continued, his arm winding around you and pulling your body flush against his as you flattened your hand against his back, you understood that it shouldn’t have. If there was anything that you knew to be true about Pero, it was that when he spoke, the words had meaning. It takes him a lot to get there, though.

The kiss ended and as Pero settled back in against the pillow, he yawned, you not far behind. “It is late.” He sighed, moving his leg so that he could hook it over your calf. “We should sleep.” You agreed - you were exhausted, and the warmth and comfort of being in bed next to him was making you drowsy. 

Instead of replying, you tucked your chin and rested your forehead against his collarbone, closing your eyes. I could get used to this. He kissed the top of your head and you felt when he relaxed, the weight of his arm heavy where it laid against your body. I might already be used to this. 

You began to doze off, but were interrupted by the quiet utterance of your name, Pero’s fingers dancing over your lower back. “Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me tonight and making me listen to you.” 

“It wasn’t just me.” You didn’t move your head, speaking the words with your lips just above his skin. “Christina was -”

“She put us in there, but it was all you. You said what I needed to hear, and I know you would not have made so much of an effort if you did not mean it.” He kissed you again, that one lingering. “Please don’t stop doing that.” 

You assured him that you wouldn’t, but the steady beat of his heart was lulling you to sleep, and you didn’t even try to open your eyes. We’ll talk more later. 

The following afternoon, you pulled up in front of William and Lin’s, Pero’s fingers tightly laced with yours on the center console. 

He’d woken up before you - and woken you up with his hands and mouth, Pero trailing touches and kisses over every part of your body that he could reach without disturbing you. From there, you’d had each other again - once in the bed and then again after breakfast, Pero pulling pleasure from you with his fingers in the kitchen before leading you into back into his bedroom. 

You’d showered at his place and changed back into your clothes, which made the stop at your house short, leaving you plenty of time to get to your destination. You hadn’t talked much about what came next, or how you’d present yourselves to your friends. But the fact that they know I left with Pero and didn’t come to get my car was probably telling. 

“Pero, we need to talk about something before we go in.” Shifting in your seat, you squeezed his hand. “What will we tell them? They’re not stupid, but -”

“They are not.” He cocked his head to the side, gesturing at the house with his free hand. “But is it their business? We don’t… we don’t even know what this is, do we?” 

“I know what I’d like it to be.” Pressing your lips together, you took a deep breath. “And what I think it could be, but … it’s only been one night, so maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just say that it’s not something we’re ready to talk about.”

“Then we are on the same page.” He leaned closer, lips curving upward as he smiled. “Maybe we should just wait and see if they ask, and then we decide how to respond.” The same page? Really? It shouldn’t have surprised you, especially with the way Pero had responded to your touch that morning and the previous night. It was obvious there was more to things than just physical attraction, that it hadn’t waned between you after the first time you’d been together. 

You wanted to kiss him in reply, but instead just nodded, giving him a return smile before pulling your hand free. “Want help carrying stuff in? I know you only have a couple presents, but I might as well make myself useful.” He laughed, nodding, and moments later, you were walking side by side up the driveway and toward the door. As the two of you paused on the front step, Pero reached for the doorbell while you froze, eyes on the space just above his head. Shit. Damn you, Lin. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He frowned, and then tilted his head back, looking up, too. “Oh. Is that … what I think it is?” 

“Yes.” You chuckled, looking down and closing your eyes. “That definitely wasn’t there yesterday. I can’t believe she’d put mistletoe up after the diner. It -”

“She is clever.” Pero took a step forward, reaching out to touch your chin. “I should have known.” His gaze dropped to your lips, Pero’s expression thoughtful. “It is tradition.” Heart pounding, you parted your lips and closed the distance between you, your fingers tight around the handle of the gift bag you carried. It is. “And I did say it was not the mistletoe I was saying no to, just the timing.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Pero.” He laughed quietly but did as you asked, his lips warm against yours. You leaned into him, one hand flat against his chest, and your own heart beating wildly behind your ribcage. You meant to pull away quickly, but he didn’t let you - instead moving the hand at your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you in place while he continued to kiss you. He nipped at your lower lip, the bite of his teeth making you gasp. 

But Pero only laughed quietly and did it again before he deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing forward to meet yours and giving you a taste of the mouthwash he’d used at your place. 

“Well that worked out better than I thought it would.” With a jolt, you broke the kiss and whipped your head to the side, finding Lin and William standing in the open doorway, her phone held in her hands. Oh no. “Now I don’t have to ask how last night went.” 

She lowered the device and your attention moved to William, the man’s attempt to hold a laugh back not at all successful. “No, you don’t.” Pero cleared his throat and stepped closer to you, his arm winding around your waist. “And now we don’t have to figure out a way to tell you, either.” 

William laughed and Lin’s eyes widened as they stepped to the side to let you in. Say something. This isn’t what we just talked about. “Pero, I -”

He stopped you with a kiss to the temple as you crossed the threshold, his arm tightening. “This makes things much easier, I think.” 

He wasn’t wrong. William and Lin had seen - firsthand - what they needed to see in order to answer questions about what had happened between you the night before, and about whether or not things were resolved in regard to the contract. They’d still probably ask questions, which was fine. But maybe now they’ll do it in private. You knew you’d say much more just to Lin, and figured that Pero would be the same with William. 

After taking your coats and boots off, the four of you headed into the living room. You and Pero put your gifts beneath the tree with the others and then moved to sit on the couch while William and Lin chose an oversized chair, the woman curling up on his lap. 

Pero lowered himself onto the cushions first, and then, to your surprise, reached up to take your hand, fingers closing around yours before he pulled down on it. Oh. Is he… “Come here.” You sat next to him, leaving very little space between you. He released your hand as you got comfortable, draping his arm across your shoulders and urging you to lean against him. He is. He really… 

You couldn’t help yourself, closing your eyes as you leaned in further to kiss Pero’s stubbled cheek before whispering the words “I like this” into his ear. He hummed, fingers tightening on your shoulder. There was no containing your smile as you straightened up, moving your hand over to rest it on his thigh. I really like this. 

“So.” Lin cleared her throat and then spoke, her eyes bright as she looked between you. “Are we opening presents now, or after we eat?”

[oizysian]

Has Science Gone Too Far? | Elizabeth Olsen

Requested by @selfcestmovies

Summary: Lizzie is introduced to a new piece of technology.

Warnings: Lizzie is a bisexual mess, and a switch, selfcest, cunnilingus, lots of self love, science going too far.

Word count: 2.3k

•

“Lizzie, this is the most experimental tech in the industry right now.” My manager said as he led me to the giant door just inside the studio. “You’re one of the first people to use it.”

He opened the door and we walked in. It was a plain room, like a casting call, with a couch and a desk and a chair, but no windows, and with a very noticeable computer screen on the wall near the door.

“What is this place?”

“This, Lizzie, is the future of acting.” He walked over to the panel on the wall and the room changed right before our eyes to what looked like a sunny beach set. “You can set up a session with anyone in any setting. Pick anyone, alive or dead, and you can see them, feel them, smell them, the works.”

“Seems really weird.” I said shakily, still taken aback by the fact that the room just shifted completely around us.

“You’ll get used to it. You’ll be able to hone your craft with some of the best and brightest of our time and of our grandparents.”

I looked around the room, still apprehensive and not quite liking the idea. It seemed wrong in a way to be able to warp reality in this way. Technology seemed to be going too far for my tastes.

“Look, take your time with it. Check it out for a little while. You might end up liking it.”

He gestured to the computer panel he had previously been using and stepped towards the door.

“I’ll give you a few hours and check up on you again later, okay?”

He opened the door and slid out before I could even speak, shutting it behind him with a solid click.

I sighed, looking around at the sunny room before walking over to the computer and pressing reset. The room went back to being a regular office, couch and desk included.

“This is too weird.” I said to myself, looking at all the options on the screen.

There were options for people, places, and objects and out of curiosity, I chose people and typed my own name in.

Suddenly, there I was, standing in front of myself.

“What the fuck.” I said quietly, watching as the other me turned to look me over, a smirk appearing on her face.

“Well, well,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look who it is.”

“There’s no way this is happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening. It’s happened with quite a few other people as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever wanted to sleep with DiCaprio?”

I shook my head.

“Well, he wanted to sleep with you! The young you, at least. Aged me down a bit first.”

“What the fuck?” Was the only thing I could think of to say.

“Yes, fuck, that’s what they all do.” She smiled. “And you’re no different, I assume?”

I stared at her - me - for a moment before snapping out of my stupor, shaking my head.

“What - no. No!” This was absurd. Surely this wasn’t happening. I was in a coma or hallucinating or something!

“Mhm.” She looked me up and down. “Why did you choose yourself? It had to be out of some weird curiosity, no?”

Why had I chosen myself? Firstly, I didn’t even think the thing would work! Second of all, who else would I have chosen? Marily-

“-lyn Monroe?”

I looked up at her in shock. She was me. She knew what I was thinking. She could probably hear my thoughts, she was probably listening to them right now.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking,” my eyes got wide. “But I’m not a mind reader. Are you?”

“No?” Was that a trick question.

“Then why would I be?”

She took a step closer to me and I watched her intently. I still couldn’t believe I was standing in front of myself.

“I’m Elizabeth Chase Olsen.”

“No you’re not. I am.” I protested.

“And so am I. Now are we gonna keep circling around the same subject or are we gonna get to why you’re really here?”

I blinked, once, twice, before I realized what she meant.

“I’m not here to fuck you - me.”

“Oh no? You’re gonna tell me you never thought about fucking yourself? What it would be like to have a twin?” She scoffed. “You’re talking to yourself. I know your fantasies. I know what you like.”

She took another step closer to me and reached out to touch me, her fingers barely grazing the skin of my cheek.

“I can feel you. And you can feel me, see?”

She fully cupped my cheek and I shivered, pulling away slightly. She smelt like me, she even felt like me - her skin the exact same as mine. How was this possible?

“It’s just me and you here. Let yourself feel good.”

I looked from her to the door and she smiled.

“Once the simulation starts, it can only be opened from the inside.”

I couldn’t deny the things she was saying. I had always imagined having a twin, jealous of my sisters at times, but I never imagined fucking myself.

Not really.

She tilted her head at me and I realized she was looking for an answer to the unspoken question that sat between us. Nobody would know and it might actually be fun, being with someone who knows exactly what feels good without having to tell them and not having to second guess myself when pleasuring them in return.

A small smile crossed my features before I nodded at her, her own smile widening at my confirmation.

“Now,” she said as she reached for the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head and tossing it aside. “Tell me how badly you want me to touch you.”

Oh, fuck, I was hot. I never got the chance to be dominant, but it was clear that not only did I have the desire to be a dom, but I was good at it.

“I want you to touch me so badly.” I finally admitted, my eyes falling to the garment on the ground before raising them to look into her own, her emerald eyes dark with desire.

I imagined mine looked identical.

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting on it delicately as she ran her hands along my shoulders, her fingers hooking underneath the straps of my bra and sliding them down my arms.

She looked hungry, wanting, and I could only commend her for her patience as she undressed me slowly.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” She whispered softly, her eyes falling from mine to my exposed chest.

Did I?

“I already know the answer,” she smiled, her fingers toying with my hardening nipples. “You don’t have to answer.”

I let out a shaky breath as I watched her play with me, goosebumps forming on my skin at her touch.

“I also know you don’t want me to be gentle with you.” She twisted my left nipple painfully and I let out a whimpering cry, a jolt of pleasure shooting down between my legs.

I panted softly as she led me to the empty desk, pushing me back against it, letting me know she wanted me on top of it. I hopped up onto the sturdy wooden desk and her lips instantly latched onto one of my nipples, her teeth digging into the sensitive flesh.

“Ahh,” I breathed, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her against me. “H-harder.”

She released me with a pop and switched breasts, her tongue swirling around the nipple before she bit down on it.

“Oh, fuck.” I moaned, pulling her between my legs so I could get some friction.

Her hands gripped my thighs and I felt as though I was on fire from her touch alone. She licked and sucked at the hurt she inflicted before trailing kisses up my chest and neck, finding the sensitive spot behind my ear and making sure to give it lots of attention.

I was losing my mind. I had to get out of these pants and I needed to get fucked. Now.

I reached down to undo the button of my jeans, struggling to push them off with her firmly between my legs. With a growl, she grabbed them and tugged, pulling them off with one quick motion. I gasped as I sat in front of myself in only my panties, and knew from the look on her face I wouldn’t be wearing anything at all soon enough.

“Lift up your ass.” She said as she grabbed my panties, pulling them down my legs and bringing them up to her face to smell them. “You always loved the smell of yourself.”

She took the panties and grabbed my face, forcing my mouth open and stuffing them inside. I moaned as the smell and taste of myself filled my senses, making my head get fuzzy with thoughts of eating pussy - and getting my pussy ate.

“That’s right,” she cooed, noting the obvious look of arousal on my face. “You remember how good pussy tastes, don’t you?”

I nodded dumbly and she smiled, pushing me down to lay down on the large desk. She spread my legs and stared down at me, in awe of what she was seeing.

“You have the cutest pussy.” I clenched around nothing and she smiled. “Look at you! So hungry for me.”

I whimpered softly, grabbing at my own breasts as she got down between my legs, lapping up the wetness that was beginning to drip down my thighs. I pinched and twisted my nipples as her tongue went straight for my clit; long, hard strokes she knew would get me going.

She held my legs down and I moaned, my hips rolling to meet her tongue. Being with a woman was amazing, being with myself was divine.

She wrapped her lips around my clit and sucked while she released my left leg and brought her hand down to my pussy so her fingers could enter my aching cunt.

I wrapped my leg around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me. She hummed against me and I bit down on the panties in my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as the most powerful orgasm of my life rocked through me.

She continued to fuck me through the delicious tremors and I came again before I could even finish processing the first one.

My legs went limp and my hands rested against my breasts, my breathing heavy as she raised herself up, licking her lips like a satisfied cat.

“Remember what pussy tastes like?” She pointed between my legs. “This is better than what you remember.”

I moaned softly, lazily reaching for her. She smiled and leaned over me, removing the panties from my mouth and kissing me ever so gently. I sucked her tongue into my mouth, eager to taste what she had already had the pleasure of tasting.

My senses were filled with the scent and taste of myself, and I honestly couldn’t get enough.

She pulled away from me and I panted softly below her, ready for whatever else she had to throw at me.

She stood in front of the desk and began to undress and I watched as she teased me, slowly revealing her perfect body to me. I gasped softly as her beautifully pale skin came into view and I couldn’t help but sit up and watch as she removed her bra, her breasts bouncing free.

I sat up fully and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her towards me as I began kissing along her shoulder, nibbling at her as I made my way down to her breasts.

She let out a little sound of pleasure as I sucked on her nipple, kneading the other breast with my free hand. She had a body worthy of worship. So, I guess, I did too.

I wanted nothing more than to have every inch of her in my mouth.

I released her breasts, a trail of saliva hanging from my lips to her nipple as I slid myself off the desk, kneeling down in front of her.

She looked surprised, maybe even amused that I was on the ground before her. I brought my face between her legs and inhaled deeply. She was right, I did love the smell of myself.

I spread her legs wider and stuck out my tongue. She took this as an invitation. Leaning against the desk, she lifted her leg to rest on my shoulder and I gasped as I realized this is what I looked like - a beautiful, glistening image of perfection.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me against her, grinding herself against my face. I barely even had to do anything and she was moaning, whining, ready for release.

I raised my eyes to look at her; her brows furrowed, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, her breasts heaving. I let my tongue dip inside of her and she mewled softly, her nails scraping against my scalp.

She continued to hump my face as I fucked her with my tongue, occasionally leaving her hole to play with her clit. I held tight to her thighs, steadying us as she writhed in my grasp.

“Oh yeah, use that tongue.” She urged me on as I continued to eagerly lap at her wetness.

I flattened my tongue against her clit and she let her hips grind against me, her orgasm washing over her.

She let go of my hair, petting my head as I kept on sucking and licking at her sensitive skin, attempting to clean her up.

“You’re gonna make me cum again.” She whispered and I hummed in confirmation against her, knowing full well what I was doing.

She let out a high pitched whine as she came against my tongue again, my greedy lips kissing her pussy, taking in all of her juices.

“You’ve made such a mess.” She said softly and I smiled up a her, indeed a mess, covered in her cum.

“You’ve certainly honed your craft today, Miss Olsen.”

[autisticalastor]

you stole my heart (but i don't want it back again)

Pairing: Alastor/Charlie

Rating: G

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposals, Demiromantic Asexual Alastor

A/N: Had the idea of "What if Alastor invokes his deal with Charlie when he's ready to propose?" and it was just too cute not to run off with! I feel like he'd be super nervous about the whole thing, so it's kind of "If you have to go on this date, so do I" kinda deal so he can't back out at the last minute. Anyways, time for some stupid cute Radiobelle! Title is from Evergreen by Dirt Poor Robins (which, ironically enough, is the song I want to be the first dance at my own wedding)!

Perfect. Everything has to be perfect. Alastor’s been planning this out for a while now, and he'll just about double-die if anything goes wrong. And he's pretty sure double-Hell wouldn't have Charlie, so he's not too keen on that idea. He’s spent the last few days going over his plan in detail, running things over a hundred times with Rosie because Charlie has to say yes, and generally killing himself with worry over the whole ordeal. Rosie keeps assuring him everything’s going to be fine, but fine isn’t good enough.

Today is supposed to be the day. It’ll take him all day to get everything ready while also dealing with the hotel, but he’s planned everything in such detail, he knows he can get it all done. He’ll be handling all the cooking, Niffty already said she’d handle setup for everything else if he wanted. Really, he’s surprised she hasn’t spilled the beans to Charlie yet with how excited she is alone. He wishes he could feel excited, but all he feels is nervous.

The hardest part will be actually going through with it. He’s been thinking of proposing for a while, but always managed to talk himself out of it. He’s never seen himself as the marrying type before, and it’s only since getting into this relationship with Charlie that he’s realized it’s because he doesn’t really think he’s marriage material. There’s plenty of men and women out there better than him, and even now, he’s certain she’ll realize that one day and it’ll all be over.

He idly considers calling the whole plan off again. And then, Charlie comes over to talk to him, bright-eyed and ready to start the day, immediately standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss. She has a habit of doing things that just wipe his entire brain clean, and this is definitely one of those things.

“Good morning, darling,” he says, pulling her against him in a warm embrace.

“Morning,” she replies, looping her arms around his neck. “You looked like you needed a bit of a mental reset. Everything all right?”

This is it. He’s supposed to ask her to come out with him tonight. That’s all he has to do right now, not even the hardest part. So why does he suddenly feel like his heart’s beating a mile a minute? They’ve had hundreds of date nights at this point. She won’t suspect a thing. There’s nothing to be so anxious about. Yet.

“Actually, I did have a small favor to ask…”

“Oh, anything you need! What is it?”

He still can’t bring himself to do it. One step closer to proposing is also one step closer to her potentially saying no. He’s going to back out, like he always does. There’s no way he can go through with this. Unless…

Keep Reading

[kimberbohwrites]

Prompts for a story? How about - Rolan, hot for older Tav (elf or whatever really), thinks she (AFAB but totally fine with whatever you feel) hates him but she's working up the courage to ask him out and bang the fuck out of him. He thinks she hates him cause she clams up when he's around - she finds him that sexy/intelligent/edible...

Well your patience has been rewarded my friends, I ended up smooshing these two prompts together and what they caused was thousands of words of hot smut. Please enjoy Chapter One, Chapter Two is almost done and ready. Thanks for your prompts @crowwolf, also shoutouts to @lemonsrosesandlavender for always encouraging me to dom that wizard.

Ma’am

Rolan has been pining for an older Tav for some time now. They both think they other hates them and when they realize their error, smut ensues.

Rated: Explicit, MDNI, Smut

Word Count: 2272

Chapter 1/2

READ ON AO3 (also continued below the line)

Please note: In this I’m writing as Rolan in his 30s and Tav in her 40s with a 10 year age difference.

If there was a spell he could do to reset time, Rolan would reset back to the very first moment he’d met you at the Druid grove. He’d leave a note in his pocket for his past self to not be a total ass when the beautiful woman comes to save the day and to go easy on the drink. But he had no such spell available and the damage was already done. 

She can’t stand you and you deserve it, he tells himself. It’s hopeless, why would an accomplished older woman like you be interested in him? 

Not that you were old, you were only 10 years older than him or so which as a human put you around middle aged if his judgement was correct. As a tiefling he understood that beauty really was only skin deep better than most, for what many believed ugly was actually beautiful, but feared. Not that it mattered with you — age had only made you more lovely. You were confident and graceful in nearly everything you did, the awkwardness of youth long behind you. He found himself too often wondering if that sureness extended to everything you did. Inevitably,  his mind would then wander to musings of your strong hands on his body, pressing him up against the nearest wall and putting your mouth to his. 

Get it together Rolan, he chided himself again and shaking his head like it would clear the vision from his mind. 

After all he’d done to you — the terrible impression he’d made, you were so shy with him that it was silly of him to think of you this way, you weren’t even friends. Every romantic interaction he’d known had been the same, they were both too shy and eventually things just fizzled out. There was never the passion or the fire that he wanted to feel. He felt like you would be different, he’d pined for you for months and months with no end in sight. If anything, his desire for you only grew stronger with the passage of time. But alas, every time he was near you seemed to focus on everything but him, always avoiding him.

With a final shake of his head, he rubbed his eyes and refocused his tired brain back on reality. It was late and near time to close up the shop for the day. Cal and Lia had long since set off to meet their friends at the tavern. He was grateful they were already gone so he wasn’t caught staring off contemplating his feelings for you, again. Daydreaming, his siblings had called it as they mocked him. 

Insulting really, wizards don’t daydream, he huffed to himself. 

The sound of the door gave him a start. Maybe it was his truly terrible luck or maybe his contemplations of you had simply plucked you from the weave by magic, he’d never know. Either way you strolled through the door of Sorcerous Sundries just a few minutes before close with bleary eyes and a nervous look. Upon spotting him you looked around to see if there was anyone else available, he tried to ignore that and focus on the papers in front of him that were very important. 

He could hear you sigh deeply as you turned back toward the door to leave, moving quietly like you might still pass unnoticed. 

“Did you need something?” He asked, trying not to look interested or offended by the fact you were leaving without so much as a word to him. 

“No, sorry,” You sniffed, your eyes looked puffy like you’d been crying. 

“Really?” 

“Fine… I was hoping to talk to Cal and Lia, I could use a friend is all,” 

“They’re gone for the night, the tavern I believe” 

“I see, well, thank you Rolan” 

You turned again to leave and he felt an anxious energy well up in him, he wanted to check on you but he didn’t know how to and you were leaving. It was now or never. He’d like to believe that’s why he said it. 

“Are you okay, ma’am?” He winced as soon as he heard the last word out of his mouth. 

“Ma’am?” You reacted immediately, turning back around. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just nerv—�� 

“As if today wasn’t bad enough, having someone walk out halfway through a date because I have the audacity to be the same age as them and not some young little thing, now I have to have YOU of all people calling me ma’am! Great!” 

Fresh tears streamed down your face and Rolan found himself wishing the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. 

“Gods! I’m sorry! This is why you hate me, I’m such an ass!” Rolan came out and around from behind the counter. He hesitatingly approached you, stopping several feet away. 

What happened next truly surprised him, you laughed, even with tears in your eyes. The way your laugh made him feel, he was sure in that moment that he’d do anything to make you laugh again.  

“I don’t hate you Rolan,” You sniffed and wiped the fresh tears away through a dazzling smile.

“What?! Of course you do, you and I never talk, because I was rude to you,” 

“Lots of people are rude to me Rolan, I don’t go around hating everyone for it” 

“Then why… why aren’t we friends?” 

You sigh and run a hand through your beautiful hair. Gods how he has to fight to not whimper at the thought of you running your hands through his hair, grabbing a handful as you guided his head to where you wanted him. 

“Because, Rolan…Gods… Why is this so hard, I faced down the chosen of Bhaal, okay” You take a few deep breaths like you’re bracing for something. 

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have pried,” He says trying to deescalate the situation, “I don’t want to upset you it’s just… I’m sorry about your date. I… I don’t know how any one could walk away from you…”

Your eyes snap up to his and he covers his mouth with his hand quickly like he can stop the words but it’s too late. 

“Rolan, you don’t mean that “ 

He dropped his hands to his sides stubbornly, drawing his gaze up to yours — he wasn’t exactly brave in this moment but he was unwilling to cower before you 

“I do,” 

“Rolan you don’t even like me,” You interject 

He is shocked at your words, him not like you? Wasn’t the opposite true, he sputters and starts before he manages to get out the words, 

“No — it’s YOU who doesn’t like ME!” 

His cheeks are flushed with anger and nerves, he can feel it. There is a little smile playing at the corner of your lips as he grows more exasperated by the moment. Are you actually enjoying how frustrated he is? He thinks as he reminds himself to stop looking at your lips in time to notice you’re staring at his mouth as well. It’s only been a split second since he spoke, but the moment feels like it’s drawn on for minutes. 

Suddenly time catches back up all at once as you close the distance and grab the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss him hard. The rush that runs through him in the moment threatens to bring him to his knees and he actually has to fight his wobbling legs to stay standing. But as suddenly as it’s started it’s over and you pull away looking guilty. 

“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have, I should have asked, I’m so sorry!”

There is a blush on your cheeks that he’s never seen before, like he might be affecting you the same way you affect him. The feeling it fills him with is something like desire and it runs through his body like electricity. 

“Don’t be s-“ He tries to tell you it’s okay but you are rushing to explain yourself and continue apologizing. 

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that, it’s just so hard to think when you’re around but that is no excuse. That’s why I have just been avoiding you and I don’t know what came over me, I’m terribly sorry” 

He approaches you slowly as you ramble on your apologies. Gently he places a hand on your arm and with the other he takes your chin in hand gently drawing your face to his.

“It’s okay, I liked it,” He says softly, “and… and I wish you wouldn’t avoid me.” 

Your eyes widen in shock at his words and your mouth opens ever so slightly. His eyes dip down quickly at the sight, wanting to feel your lips on his once more. 

“But why? You’re so handsome and smart Rolan — there are so many girls your own age out there. Unless… do you just like older women?” 

You sound almost scandalized at the thought but a small grin gives you away. 

“No it’s nothing like that,” He grows nervous once more in your presence. Dropping his hands from you and clutching at his own arms nervously as his tail coils tightly around his leg for comfort. Feeling so close to being seen in this moment he is filled with dread and a heady anticipation. 

You pause to think for a moment as you take him in, clearly sizing him up. Your instincts always keen, always sharp, much to his chagrin.  

“Is it because you like when other people are in charge… Rolan?” 

You ask the question innocently enough but it’s far too late. His tail coils so tightly around him that he prays to any god available that you won’t notice. On his cheeks he can feel the burning sensation of the deepest blush rising and his gaze shifts to the ground. He wills himself to answer you. 

“I… I’ve never tried it before,” 

Your mannerism changes almost immediately at his answer, the smile that has only been forming in the corners of your mouths grows to a grin and your eyes light up with mischief and excitement. Gone are the tears that you’d come in here crying, your gaze is singularly focused on him now. In his anxiety-addled mind he feels the need to defend himself lest you to think he’s some sort of pervert. 

“It’s not just that… I also think you’re smart and beautiful and—“ 

“Shhh, It’s okay Rolan.” 

You approach him and gently place a finger over his lips. 

“Do you want me to be in charge?” You ask firmly but softly and then remove your finger only a bit so he can answer you. 

It’s unnecessary because at the moment he can’t speak. He just gives a slight nod in response while nervously looking away. 

“Good boy” you murmur while turning his head back to you and leaving a soft kiss on his lips. 

The response is immediate; a desperate whine from the back of his throat. It’s a sound he’s sure he’s never made before and he would wonder what the cause was if he wasn’t immediately half hard at your praise. You notice immediately, your smile growing even larger like a fox that’s cornered its prey. 

“Alright, I’ll be gentle with you. Your safe word is ‘Wulbren’ if you say that I will stop immediately, no questions asked. Understand?” 

You instruct him in between pressing soft kisses to his jaw and throat. His heart is thundering in his chest as all the blood in his body rushes down to his cock. He nods eagerly. 

“No, no, I need you to say it,” you say as you give a little nip right where his neck and shoulder meet, having pushed his robes aside. 

“Yes! Please! I understand, just please!” He blurts out all at once and he would be humiliated if he wasn’t the most turned on he’d ever been in his life. His knees wobble again under your touch. He is clay ready to be molded in your hands. 

You kiss him hard on the lips in reward and he whimpers in to the kiss, feeling himself get walked backward in the process. 

Before too long his back finds a column near the counter at the Sundries and he remembers all at once where he is. His hand shoots out quickly to cast arcane lock on the front doors of the shop, making sure that not a single soul can interrupt a moment he had dreamt about for some time. 

You smile at the spell and then press him flush against the column. The air nearly crackles with anticipation he feels as you survey him like a prize. That unmistakable authority about you that has always attracted him is returned and he is eager to be the subject of it. 

He keeps trying to lean forward to kiss you but you keep him firm against the column. Now he’s desperate, nearly driven mad with need. 

“Please,” he whines.

You shush him again and he tries not to whine again in response. 

“I think you should be more respectful when addressing me… you can call me…” 

You trail off to think and then that glint of mischief returns in your eyes. 

“You can call me ‘Ma’am’” 

Rolan can’t help but blush in embarrassment at the reminder of his own mistake. He nods quickly. 

“Yes ma’am” 

“Good boy” 

Rolan groans again, now he’s so hard it’s become almost painful. 

“Now, let’s take this upstairs,” You say sweetly as you brush a lock of hair behind one of his ears. His head tilts into your touch almost instinctively. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

[myth-blossom]

Thoughts on Max Valliant (The Splitter)

To avoid spoiling anything for those who haven’t played the new elusive target, read on below the cut:

First, I want to hug our bestest murder clone boi so badly. You can really tell how rough of an assignment this is for 47 as he deals with Valliant and his clones. His response to one of the guards calling the clones “freaks” (“Think you’re the freak”) and describing his numbness about what he does just really hits that point home.

As @dianaburnwood has pointed out, Valliant’s clones are essentially children, and just as we’ve seen with Ort-Meyer, their creators find them very expendable. They’re so innocent, even to the point where if anything chaotic happens (like the death of one of the clones in an accident), that one of them seems to wander off and has some sort of breakdown about it.

Definitely not a happy pay day for 47.

Second, I did my best to explore the level and hear all of the extra dialgoue between various characters, including sticking behind to hear a call from Valliant about the sale of his secret project to other buyers. As the target video pointed out prior to the mission, Valliant has been known to play multiple sides, so it was not at all surprising to hear him conducting business with another party despite claiming exclusivity if the ICA accepted. But that leaves me wondering: what if he’s already sent someone clones or the setup to do so prior to Pritchard’s arrival? I WISH they had Pritchard call the ICA while he waits in the room after the tour. Even if it would have stalled out at some point, I’d like to know the boards’ stand on it (gimme names, dammit), and who may choose to go rogue with that program just like Travis did with creating Victoria.

Third, what the hell was going on with Dr. Hei? The fact that 47 isn’t tasked to take her out as well is very interesting, but also her behavior with Pritchard was odd, too. She very much seems up her own ass about her clone work—something that was a bit fun to fuck with if you do the tour and choose to challenge the “perfect” clone in an example of combat training (to which the clone can die and she scowls “Motherfucker” at 47)—but despite her air of superiority, she also seemed to be a cautious player. Whether you choose to challenge the clone on the tour or just let him destroy a brick, she still pulls Pritchard aside and warns him to be careful with Valliant because he’s dangerous if he doesn’t get his own way. It seemed out of place at first, but I think it’s more that she knows the ICA would be a good source of financial backing for her to continue her work, and so she warns him not out of concern for his safety, but for the security of her future progress. I definitely don’t think this is the last we’ll be seeing of her.

Speaking of which, Diana tells 47 they have a team on standby to come in and take care of everything else after he takes care of Valliant and the clones. I trust Diana on this, but I think even she would admit that the team wouldn’t just come in and lethally clear out both the armed guards AND the scientists. At the very least they would be interrogated for information, if not paid to trade allegiances and work for them.

In terms of where this takes place in the timeline, it definitely seems to be when the ICA is still around (i.e. before the end of the Agency in Hitman III). However, with 47’s emotional responses during the mission, I have to wonder if this takes place after Hitman II’s antidote scene??? I’ve wondered about Diana and 47 working for the ICA still for a while after meeting Grey and Olivia, a good way to keep their Providence hunting under wraps for a bit longer until the shit hit the proverbial fan. But considering the Chongqing facility is meant to be quickly assembled/disassembled as needed, it’s not farfetched to imagine they removed all traces of the hostile takeover and cloning work and reset it back to what we see in the original H3 Chongqing level. It would explain the extra security measures later on (Pritchard needing the P41 form and scan to tour the facility, the heavier security presence, the entry code changing constantly, etc).

To stir the pot a bit about future plot theories: there is material here to make a new game. One thing to think about is Pritchard’s visit to the facility in H3 in the first place—why was he there? In theory, the damage and remodeling happened immediately after the Splitter mission was over. Was he there to make sure all traces of Dr. Hei’s work had been removed from the facility? Was Imogen Royce in on it and he wanted to investigate? Hell, even Hush could have been in on it—can you imagine if that sick bastard had an endless supply of clones to test his invention on in addition to the poor unhoused souls he was preying on?

In any case, 47 and Olivia (and technically Diana) were being hunted by the ICA at that point. If any board members wanted to pursue the cloning information the Agency should have obtained after the Splitter, they could’ve done that then….

HOLY HELL—WHAT IF ANY OF THAT INFORMATION CAME OUT BECAUSE OF 47????? WHAT IF HE AND OLIVIA ACCIDENTALLY REKINDLED THE CLONE INTRIGUE BECAUSE THAT WAS AMONG THE ICA FILES SOMEWHERE??? AHHHHH *scribbles furiously*

Okay, shouties over. For now. Probably.

There’s also the bit that @lucas-grey brought up recently about Lucas Grey possibly returning. At this point, I fear that if we did get Grey back, it’d be as a clone of our Grey, and as @bourbonthesecond pointed out, it would be quite the heartstring puller if 47 has to then help that Grey break free of his control and learn about his creation and past. But the way that would just fuck with 47??? My boi has been through enough.

I would really hope the next game would take a strong direction like this, and I’d love to see them have (and use, not kill or fridge) Diana, Victoria, and Olivia as well. I want to see them in the field and help 47 with things! I’d like that for Grey as well if we can get him back in some way.

I’m sure more thoughts will tumble out through plot bunnies and chats with friends. Hope you enjoyed this long read!

[everyandanything]

turning myself into a copypasta (yes even this part 😭) bc when I have a thought I need about 100 different opinions on it to feel validated so…. everyandanything I’m sorry but you’re my next victim………

thinking about musical!darry letting pony beat him up……. not fighting against him, just letting him tackle him flat on his back and pound his once soft now permanently hardened kid fists down on his chest and arms, the devastation on his face once soda intervenes, it’s the only way he thinks pony will ever be able to open up to him bc He hit him First in his own moment of grief and overwhelming frustration and so he wants pony to punish him for it if only just to get him to do something to help himself……..

resetting the scene…. *opens fic outline…who said that..* he remembers cradling a brand new ponyboy in his arms, he sees him swaddled in a pink blanket bc their parents had been expecting a girl bc they were both part of “two boys and a girl” families (#start your own lore challenge), baby pony loved to squeeze darry with that classic baby strength when he was upset and as 14 year old pony is on top of him screaming in his face bright red and teary holding the meat of his biceps with his nails a part of him sees that tiny baby again and only wants to hold him and soothe him like he used to be able to, take everything he’s ever said in the last few months back, drive himself to the store after work that day, but he can’t!!!! he’s already damaged their family too much, and if pony needs to let it all out like a baby throwing a tantrum- unable to truly express what they feel without physicality- then who the fuck is Darry to take that from him? soda is sitting at the table still, poking his dinner with the prongs of his fork and silently trying to keep himself steady as he !yet again! antagonizes their brother, struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat, he finds himself waiting for soda to jump in too, to kick him in the ribs and the back of the head. he needs it just as much as pony, he uses soda as a crutch too often and pushes him in the middle, almost resenting him for how intact he’s kept his relationship with pony while he grows farther and farther away from them both to the point he isn’t even a brother, not even a parent or an uncle, more like a principal or a jail warden or something of the like. soda is practically shaking in his seat, he’s angry and Darry wants him to be. they deserve to be angry and whatever else he’s made them bury when he’s around. he knows it’s selfish to be thinking of all of the wrong he’s done his babies when they hurt so bad, he knows, but it’s his fault really… he should’ve let pony be when he didn’t want to talk to him, he should’ve never thrown the bills at soda’s feet and rattled pony in the kitchen, he should’ve picked up his own frosting instead of begging for it for his birthday… soda slams his utensils on the table and rushes the clump of ponyboy and Darry on the living room floor, he grabs the back of pony’s shirt and pushes Darry’s shoulder until they separate. pony keeps crying in a ball as far from them both as he can get in the smaller space, and soda is trembling, arms out to keep Darry away from him and vise versa covered in tears of his own. his first brother, who he taught how to say swear words in secret in elementary school and was there when he said his first word while their parents were sleeping because he had a stomach ache that kept him up all night and he was so obsessed with watching over the baby in his room and sang him songs when he would fuss and believe him he Did, even when he was happy he would cry and cry… soda is blushing down his neck sobbing before he even gets coherent words out between them, it pulls Darry apart. he wants them to unleash it all on him so badly, he wants to rid them of their pain in any way that will work no matter the cost…. but he can’t… he can’t hardly open his mouth to talk to them as they cry now, but when he does..

/You’re our little brother and we love you. Did you hear what I just said… I said I love you./

he’s thought it plenty. he loves his brothers like no one’s ever loved anything and he’d bet the world on that. but he hasn’t said it in so long, not out loud, only when saying his prayers at night asking whatever’s even out there for some fucking good fortune and good luck for once, not even for him just for them…

ponyboy glances up out of the crook of his elbow and then covers his ears. he’s still so small, he’s barely a real teenager… soda’s shoulders drop like weight is shedding off of him little by little, he holds Darry’s arm like it’s the only thing he needs to keep himself upright or he’ll fall over and die right there, resting the side of his face against his bicep. soda is getting big, he’ll be 18 in a year, but he still feels like a baby… his first brother, the littlest forever in his eyes. Darry wants to scoop them up and say it again and again, to make up for everything he’s already said and done, to dig it into their heads that he loves them so much it makes him feel sick and it’ll never change even if pony still hates him in the morning and soda finally gives up on keeping him sane.

there’s a knock at the door and he stops talking, both of his brothers scrambling to different corners. Darry stays on the floor a second longer to catch his breath.

#KeepTorturingDarryCurtis …… who said that 😟

( also!!!!!! I LOVED born a grease I was sitting up every night checking the outsiders fandom tag waiting for new chapters with the power of believing and I’m so sad it’s ended but also so happy that you’ve gotten so much love bc it was incredible </3 )

Anon you can’t just drop something like this in my ask box and run. Just shatter my heart and then leave the scene of the crime, come back! I have so many questions for you!! I could read a million more words of this!!

But ughhh you totally get Darry’s self loathing and anger towards himself especially at this point in the story, like the lines “it’s the only way he thinks pony will ever be able to open up to him bc He hit him First in his own moment of grief and overwhelming frustration and so he wants pony to punish him for it if only just to get him to do something to help himself” and “he finds himself waiting for soda to jump in too, to kick him in the ribs and the back of the head.” and “he should’ve let pony be when he didn’t want to talk to him, he should’ve never thrown the bills at soda’s feet and rattled pony in the kitchen, he should’ve picked up his own frosting instead of begging for it for his birthday” are so it.

AND THEN!!! Pair it with this: “he loves his brothers like no one’s ever loved anything and he’d bet the world on that.”

Like that’s it!! You're so right. That’s 100% darry. He loves his brothers and would do anything for them, sure he doesn’t always know how to express it, sure sometimes it comes out angry, sure he’s tired and drained and and the world hasn’t treated him fair, but he loves Soda and Pony, he’s given up everything for them, and yet all he can see are all the ways he fails them. He loves them “like no one’s ever loved anything” and yet he thinks he deserves nothing but hate and anger from both of them for all the ways he’s wronged them. He can’t imagine a world where either of his brothers love him back, because in his mind, he doesn’t deserve it. Everything that's gone wrong for his brothers, even down to his parents death, is his fault. And why should they love someone that does nothing but make their lives worse?

Anon I’m so serious write like a million more things about the Curtis brothers and I’ll be sat every single time. This is so so good. 

(and thank you for the kind words, so glad you enjoyed born a grease!! 🫶🏻🥹 but most of all thank you for sending this to my ask! Don't know what I did to get Darry angst just hand delivered to my inbox like the morning news but this was lovely and soul crushing all at once. Seriously would love to read more of your writing !!! ).

[howlsofbloodhounds]

can I get a in depth information on the reward system that nightmare and Chara use against killer? Like what are the rewards and what are the punishments

I haven’t thought out all the details, as it’s not exactly a firmly canon thing, so take this with a grain of salt as it is 3 am thoughts.

but with the human, I do think they utilized Undertale’s game mechanics against him. Resets, True Resets, Erase, the concept of “bad” and “good” endings—using them as punishments, rewards, promises, threats.

(The “you don’t want another Bad Ending, do you, Sans?” from the Chara in the head. Evidently he’s still living by these rules, even under Nightmare.)

And the usual things for rewards, like praise, comfort, allowed to have rests and breaks, allowed to keep and have something of papyrus or engage in old sans like hobbies and behaviors for a moment. Playing games, learning new things, getting to decide how they kill and torture someone today.

Other punishments like being given gifts or having them destroyed and taken away, being triggered into Stage 1 or higher Stages as punishment.

Perhaps played around with stats, made him stronger or weaker whenever he did or didn’t do something.

If he attempts to get close to anyone, seems to be thinking he can change on his own terms, seems a little too spiteful and angry, tries to rebuild or reconnect with papyrus, then boom. Reset. Eventually. Even if we wait to see how it plays out for a good few in game months. Either way all progress will be Reset.

Only he remembers this now. No one else does, even Chara says it didn’t happen. Was it even real? Does it matter? (Surely someone else must remember. They don’t. They aren’t real. They’re not supposed to remember. They don’t matter.)

Making him repeat everything over and over if he fails or hesitates, if he tries to fight back or hide or run, if he tries to spare or show mercy to anyone. Showing him what reality is really. A game, controlled by another.

Maybe Erasure of the world was sometimes used as a promise. Either of erasing the world and moving on to the next, to something new, or as an end to his suffering and breaking the cycle. (Would explain why he immediately rushed to trying to Erase himself as soon as he was in Stage 1 and had the means to make it permanent. Potentially be forgotten entirely. At least then he won’t be trying to destroy everything and everyone else.)

But more often than not True Reset was probably used to threaten to erase Killer—going back to being Sans, even if that’s eventually what killer (Stage 1) comes want.

With Nightmare he learns his right to exist also hinges on being useful. If he’s any way inconvenient or useless, he gets either discarded with no purpose, or repeatedly killed until he accepts it and gives up and allows himself to die. Then he is replaced.

The exacts of this depends on the nightmare. We know he doesn’t want Killer to kill anyone like he’s been conditioned to (Stage 4), but it’s not like that’s something Killer can just unlearn because Nightmare doesn’t want him to. He’s gonna have to make Killer learn to play by his rules.

Rewards and punishments is likely still aligned with whatever the “player” wants in large part as he views it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Killer (Stage 2) views Nightmare as yet another one of our puppets, following his code—just doing what he’s supposed to do—so he probably assumes some of the same rules still apply—even if he was probably overwhelmed with confusion about why we wanted him to kill before, but suddenly now it’s a thing he shouldn’t do, worthy of punishment.

(Which could explain his confusion and uncharacteristic outburst of frustration/emotion in that one comic where Nightmare called him back from continuing to fight the Stars.)