#imagine if i was good and finished this it would be glorious

[ilions-end]

i finished statius' ACHILLEID. thoughts thoughts thoughts:

i knew going in it was a VERY short unfinished epic, but i didn't know it would be FUN?? if i ever get that time machine, FIRST THING i go back and find one publius papinius statius, i lock him in a room, and i'm NOT letting him out until he's finished the achilleid!

achilles is statius' BLORBO in a way neither homer, quintus nor virgil have blorbos. statius likes achilles to be strong and pretty and graceful, but most of all ENDEARING even when he fails. and he fails a lot, because this is him still figuring out how to be an adult, not to mention a prophesied legend literally everyone is waiting for to step up

the one thing that gets tiring is just how many prophecies permeate the achilleid. nothing's left to chance, there are so few unknowns. even ODYSSEUS was aware that from peleus' wedding there would come a child destined to be a central warrior in an upcoming gigantic war.

as it stands, the achilleid is more of a... thetisiad? she is very centered in the narrative (we spend more time looking at things from her point of view than achilles') and there is SO MUCH SYMPATHY for her, oh my gosh!! she loves ONE person, her son, the only worthwhile thing she got out of a traumatizing marriage, and she despairs that he's fated to die young in a silly human war.

also i'm a deidamia defender forever now. so three-dimensional, so clever!

aughhh i love how much characterization statius puts in, even in the small scenes! my favourite example is odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' place (literally just moving characters from A to B). diomedes teases odysseus, and odysseus is delighted to be teased. that night we're told odysseus CAN'T SLEEP because he's too excited about showing off his plan the next morning!

the unveiling of achilles is completely different from the chagrined defeat/"achilles is a fucking idiot" ways i've heard it retold! i love that it's collaborative, it's a mutual triumph. it's just as much achilles (who's been suffering in gender dysphoria hell for a year) longing to be exposed as it is odysseus LIVING for showing everyone (especially diomedes?) how clever he is. it's not just the shield and the spear and the bugle, it's odysseus playing the part of the siren, whispering in achilles' ear that he knows who he is and describing how glorious he will be on the trojan battlefield. it's achilles' grateful relief at being ALLOWED not to pretend anymore as he rips off his own dress even before the bugle calls

also it's very important to me that the moment he's no longer hunching over trying to make himself look small and inoffensive, we're told achilles is taller than both odysseus and diomedes

i KEEP IMAGINING how good statius would have made the rest!! especially because as book ii ends, achilles regards odysseus as a cool uncle; he's the guy who rescued him! i want to think statius would have put in the big mystery quarrel achilles and odysseus are said to have had early in the war, something to drastically change that affection. i want to know how statius would have handled troilus, and the gods. augh statius you roman BLUEBALLER

an assortment of story beats still revolving in my head:

chiron is such a sweetheart!! he's SO gallant with thetis, he's so affectionate with achilles. he HIDES HIS TEARS when achilles leaves, awww

statius writes out phoinix completely. as a phoinix stan i object. sure chiron can raise young achilles, but i NEED phoinix to tend to him as a baby

i enjoy how achilles EXPLODES into a mess of teenagerly hormones when he first sees deidaima. it's so funny that thetis is looking on (and we get my favourite simile of the achilleid, of a herdsman delighting in a young bull snorting and foaming at a beautiful heifer) like "aaaaand there's my son's sexual awakening. i see! well, we can use that" and THAT explains why achilles is so willing to commit to the female disguise

(listen. listen. few things mean more to me than the love between achilles and patroclus. but achilles is a teenage boy at the age when a fucking breeze will give him a boner, and deidamia is the most beautiful and the cleverest of her sisters. i really enjoy a story where achilles and deidamia are neither "fated eternal true love" or one's a sneaky opportunist. it's much more compelling that they're both knots of budding emotions and bodily feedback)

i notice that statius never uses the name pyrrha, he doesn't seem to have a fake name at all, just "achilles' sister"

lycomedes is SO honoured and proud that thetis is entrusting her daughter to him. i feel sorry for lycomedes, he seems so earnest and hasn't done anything to get tricked

the one thing i can't forgive statius for is that after spending SO much time establishing that achilles and deidamia (who knows he's a guy) are genuinely into each other, it feels like statius goes OUT OF HIS WAY assuring us that their first sexual encounter is rape. sure they talk right after, deidamia forgives him, AND i understand there are social rules that makes deidamia more "honourable" and "worthy" when she resists, but like. sigh.

aLONG with the previously mentioned interplay between odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' court, there's a simile where they're both starving wolves on the hunt. so sexy it's almost illegal

the feast scene is SO FUNNY omg. all of achilles' careful feminine training dissolving because odysseus and diomedes are there with their boundless masculinity for him to feed off of. deidamia practically WRESTLING achilles back down on the couch every time he forgets himself and behaves too much like a man. odysseus chatting with lycomedes SPECIFICALLY trying to rile up achilles, and then after the women have left (achilles dragging his feet and looking back, YEARNING for their male company) odysseus specifically praises the maiden's "almost masculine" beauty (because ohh he suspects. he just needs to prove it in the morning. he can't SLEEP for it)

when they depart, achilles earnestly swears to deidamia that no other women shall ever bear his children. i find it interesting as a reminder of the social rules of its era. neither of them expect achilles to be sexually exclusive, just not fathering potential heirs. which again makes me wonder about the contraceptives in ancient greece

on the ship towards aulis, diomedes begs achilles to tell them all about his feats and training with chiron, and achilles is so shy about it! who can blame him! diomedes has a WAY more impressive track record

odysseus is SO good at firing up achilles' outrage at paris even as he's just catching him up on what the war's about. and he's so pleased at how easily achilles' outrage can be directed! you KNOW that would have developed in such an interesting way AUGH THE REST WOULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD.

[frost-queen]

Good luck, babe (Fem!Reader x Eloise Bridgerton)

For @chxrrybomb22, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers   , @merlieve   , @queen-of-books  , @glimmering-darling-dolly   ,@denkisclown  , @wildieflower   ,@meyocoko    , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl  , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07   , @melsunshine   @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury ,@imagines-by-her ,@evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303   ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m

Summary: Forbidden love story based on the song Good luck, babe by Chappell Roan.

“Where are you going?” – Colin asked his sister, seeing Eloise pull her higher up. – “To see my friend.” – she replied with a witty glance. – “It is calling hour, dear sister.” – Colin reminded her. – “Yes and I can guarantee you no man shall call upon me today.” – Eloise answered grabbing for her reticule that laid on the sofa. – “Eloise.” – Violet spoke putting her cup of tea down.

It made her groan softly with a roll of her eyes. – “You know it is true mama.” – she said to make it clear no one would call upon her today. – “You may never know.” – Violet let out in persuasion of her daughter to stay. – “Then tell him I shall be available tomorrow.” – Eloise stated with a most entertaining curtsy.

It made Hyacinth snort loud. Even Francesca giggled quietly, moving her hand in front of her mouth. – “Eloise!” – Violet got up, having set her tea aside. Eloise left the drawing room. Violet stared speechless at her son, hoping he could make sense of this. Colin simply tried to supress a smile. – “It is true mama.” – Hyacinth spoke slapping Gregory’s hand as he reached for the last chocolate biscuit. – “No man has ever called upon Eloise.” – Hyacinth finished grabbing the biscuit. Gregory stuck his tongue out to her. Violet rubbed her forehead thoughtfully, keeping one hand on her stomach. 

“Very well.” – she spoke defeated, turning to dear Francesca. Francesca gave her a soft smile back. The door opened as one of the staff entered. – “A caller for miss Bridgerton.” – he said with a bow. Violet stroke her skirt out of habit. Gesturing to the man to let him enter afterwards. A dashing gentleman entered calling for Miss Francesca Bridgerton.

Violet turned her attention to Francesca. Eloise’s carriage was riding towards an estate a few blocks away. Once the carriage turned into a street, she recognized it. Having seen it multiple times from the outside, but never been inside. The carriage came to a stop. Eloise sticking her head out of the little window.

The orange roses were in bloom. The footman let Eloise out. Adjusting the shawl over he arms, she prepared herself to go in. The doorman opened as Eloise announced herself. She followed the doorman inside. Eloise waited a bit outside of the drawing room till she was announced. – “A caller for miss Y/n Y/l/n.” – he spoke with a bow.

Your parents shared a glorious gleam as it made you smile unsettling. Eloise entered with the grandest smile. – “Eloise!” – you called out surprised. – “Y/n.” – she replied with a curtsy. Your mother stepped forwards, blocking you a bit from Eloise. – “It is calling hours Miss Bridgerton.” – she made clear with a forced smile.

“Yes, and I would like to call upon Y/n.” – Eloise responded, having no trouble going against your mother. – “It will be quick.” – you reassured her. Your mother flashed her fan open, waving herself some cool. Eloise gestured for you to lead the way as you tried to supress your smile. Taking Eloise by the elbow, you led her out of the drawing room. – “You are terrifying Eloise!” – you shout-whispered to her in disbelieve that she was here. – “What can I say, I missed you.” – Eloise responded with a bit of flair. It made you laugh, drawing her more away from where your parents were waiting.

“Are you staying long?” – you asked her. – “No.” – she replied lowly. – “I wouldn’t wish to keep your admirers away from you.” – she continued giving you a little nudge. – “What admirers.” – you teased bursting out in laughter. – “Oh come on Y/n, you are beautiful. What man doesn’t feel compelled by you.” – Eloise spoke touching your forearm. You briefly glanced down at her touch, before flashing your gaze up to her eyes. – “What man indeed…” – your voice softened to almost a whisper.

Eloise gaze was caught in yours. Staring at each other in a moment of silence. Your parents interrupting, made you take a step back from her. – “I believe it is time for you to head home Miss Bridgerton. So we could receive more callers.” – your father announced. Eloise formed a smile, you knew was politely forced. – “Of course.” – Eloise replied with a curtsy. Your body moved instinctively a bit forwards when Eloise turned around to leave. You withheld yourself, keeping your head low. Your parents called you back in the drawing room, where you sat back down. Waiting for calling hours to be over.

You found yourself at the next gathering. A display of theatrics from the queen. You stood amongst the crowd, watching the two dancers dance so graceful and intimate. The music made you dream away of dancing on your own. Imagining yourself with eyes closed, moving as sensual as the woman. Then a set of hands gliding down your body. Soft hands that sparked each fibre in your body where they touched. Woman’s hands as you wanted to hear them whisper your name in your ear.

Blinking surprised, you were aware of your daydreaming and hoped you hadn’t looked foolishly amongst the crowd. The dance came to a stop as you clapped along with the others. Embarrassed you quickly moved to sit down as others of the ton moved to the middle of the room to dance or interact in a conversation. You sat alone, staring a bit lost in front of you. Expression a bit saddened. – “There you are!” – a voice came through as it made you blink yourself away. – “I have been looking everywhere for you.” – Eloise said happily coming to sit with you. Instantly you felt your heart leap with joy, smiling upon her.

“Are you not mingling amongst the others to find a match.” – Eloise teased making you puff at her. – “Dear Eloise, you know I have my heart set out to be a spinster.” – you told her as Eloise laughed loud. You turned a bit more to her. – “We could be spinsters together. Live somewhere off together and have no man dictate out lives for us.” – you proposed as Eloise kept laughing. – “I am being serious Eloise.” – you laughed out, letting your body bump against her. – “Don’t tell me you seek out a husband?” – you asked upholding a smile.

“God’s no.” – Eloise called out, making you sigh relieved. – “Then what is stopping us?” – you asked placing your hands on hers that laid on her lap. – “True as spinsters we will be treated poorly by the ton, but eventually they wouldn’t care anymore. We’d be free to do whatever we like. Just you and me in an estate, living our best lives.” – you proposed with much sincerity. – “How is it that you have such courage to be different?” – Eloise asked looking up at you. You gave her hand a soft squeeze. – “You give me courage.” – you told her with a smile on your lips. Your eyes drifting briefly down to her lips. – “Please think about it.”

With those final words, you got up, leaving Eloise’s side. Eloise stared, lost in her own thoughts. You walked behind the crowd, keeping close to the walls. Finding a place where you could settle. Forgotten in the back as you watched the others. It didn’t take Eloise long to join your side again. She kept quiet, simply standing by your side. You were watching some dancers, seeing her brother Anthony amongst them with Kate. He snuck in a kiss as it made you touch your lips. Inhaling a bit, you turned more to Eloise.

“Do you ever wonder what a kiss feels like?” – you asked her. – “Not really.” – Eloise answered with a shrug of her shoulder. – “Oh…” – you replied, turning away from her. Eloise picked up on it, quirking her eyebrow up. – “I assume it is nothing special.” – she said rhetorical. – “How about we test it out?” -  you suggested. – “Really?” – Eloise said surprised. You smiled teasingly, taking her by the hand.

“Frightened Eloise?” – you called out as you pulled her away. Darting around the room to a more secluded area. You pulled Eloise with you into an empty room. You let go of her hand, moving to the curtains. Pulling it back, then move closer to the glass. – “Want to keep it hidden?” – you teased moving the curtain before you.

Eloise laughed loud, approaching you. You kept moving the curtain back and forth, revealing yourself now and then to her with each another teasing expression. Eloise smiling radiating at you. She gasped loud when you took a hold of her wrist and pull her with you behind the curtains. Eloise had her brows furrowed till her expression softened upon you.

You shuffled closer to her, pushing the tips of your shoes against hers. – “It’s just us.” – you whispered to her. Eloise stared at your eyes. A pounding in her heart she was half familiar with. The way she was staring at you, made you bashful. Eloise’s gaze lowered to your lips. Before she fully knew it, she had moved her hand around your lower back, pressing her lips against yours.

The feeling was glorifying as Eloise’s lips kissed yours with more dominance. Demanding more of your kiss than she ever imagined. Your heart felt like exploding with fireworks. Your hands found a way to her, cupping her cheeks to kiss her more delicately. Her eagerness made you nearly fall back, tripping over the hem of your dress.

The sudden shift in balance broke the kiss off. Out of breath, you stared at each other. – “I never wanted a man. I just want you Eloise.” – you told her with a smile. – “I…” – Eloise responded not sure what to answer after that. Your eyes widened when Eloise grabbed you once more, going to steal another kiss from you. Her lips slowly retracted from yours, wanting to feel them for as long as possible.

“I…” – she smiled having to need no words. You smiled back at her, giving her hands a soft squeeze. Eloise let go of your hands, moving towards the door. By the door, she looked over her shoulder, furrowing her brows with softness. She ran back up to you, giving you one last desiring kiss before heading back out to face the ton.

Once Eloise had left, you twirled out of excitement. Eloise seemed to want to dive into this adventure with you. Have a life as spinsters where you could life in peace remotely away from the ton and just love each other. You left to return to the main room. Catching glances with Eloise from across the room.

It had been a few days almost to a week now since you saw Eloise. The next ball but three days away. At the promenade, you were enjoying some fresh air. Smiling at those who passed you from the other direction. The world couldn’t be better as you knew Eloise would be waiting for you. Share a life together and call her yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling by even thinking about it. Looking back up, your gaze caught Eloise. Freezing as she did the same.

Eyes widening at each other. Your gaze immediately gliding to the side to see Eloise with a man. – “Eloise.” – you called out in shock. Eloise smiled embarrassed, turning towards the man. – “Phillip can you give us a moment.” – she asked. Phillip bowed, walking further up to give Eloise and you some privacy. – “Eloise?” – you said confused as to why she was with a man.

“Y/n…” – Eloise spoke nervously. – “What is the meaning of this? Why are you promenading with a man?” – you accused her, utterly shocked as you thought she would keep to your arrangement. – “Y/n…” – Eloise spoke keeping her voice low. She reached her hand out to you, touching your hand.

“Are you calling it off? Why are you calling it off?” – you asked desperate, having a sense she was forcing herself to marry a man just to be accepted by society. – “You don’t understand Y/n!” – Eloise shouted pulling her hand back. It made you scoff shocked. – “Oh but I do. You don’t want to call it love. You want to stop the feeling, but for the world you could never!” – you told her. Supressing her feelings would not do her any good. – “Y/n please.” – Eloise begged reaching for you again. You moved your hand back so she couldn’t take it. – “Have it your way Eloise.” – you told her. Eloise blinked saddened.

You came a bit closer again to tell her the hard truth. – “When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night. With your head in your hands, you’re nothing more than his wife.” – you made clear. Eloise swallowed nervously at the harsh truth. – “And when you think about me, all of those years ago. You’re standing face to face with ‘I told you so’!” – you called out furiously.

Eloise stumbled a bit back, breathlessly at the shocking truth. You turned on your heel, walking off. – “Y/n! wait!” – Eloise called out coming after you. Coming to a firm stop, you spun around. – “I told you so!” – you warned her. Eloise’s shoulders slouched, defeated at her own doing. Phillip came at her side, touching her elbow as Eloise moved her elbow away. Not wanting his touch. The world slowly spinning around her, dizzily at the fool she has been, by not calling it love.

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

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[touyasdoll]

Vulnerability

pairing: ex!Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mildly angsty bc y'all broke up before, rough sex kinda, sex with feelings, y’all broke up and he’s back (surprise, surprise), unprotected sex, creampie, possessive gojo

notes: once Satoru is in love, he is in wholeheartedly. you are never getting rid of him <3

“Say it again, baby,” Satoru drawls, drunk in the pleasure that you’re providing as you glide up and down on his impressive length.

“I love you,” you whisper, just like old times as your hands rest on either side of his neck, keeping his ice blue gaze fixed on your face.

A lazy smile spreads across his handsome face as he guides your hips, his long fingers tightening around your flesh.

“I missed that. Missed you,” he whispers back, words that you’d never thought you’d hear. Not from this man.

It’s been months since he walked out that door. Since you told him to get the fuck out of your life and never come back. He was petrified of commitment and that wasn’t a secret to anyone who knew of your relationship well enough.

“I love you,” you say again, earning you a groan from a man beneath you.

“I love you too, gorgeous,” he replies, nearly stopping your steady rhythm, but the feel of his glorious cock keeps you going.

“Say it again,” you echo his words, desperate to hear those words after months of his denying you of the pleasure.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you, baby,” he breathes out. “I fucking mean it too,” he growls quietly.

His hands nearly bruise your hips, fingertips pressing into your skin when he starts holding you as tight as he wish he would have before. When he was too proud and too scared to just utter the words that roll off his tongue so easily now.

“I need you. I fucked up and I know it,” he pants, easily flipping the two of you over so that he lumbers over you.

He props himself up on one hand and catches your jaw in the other, using a firm but gentle grip to keep your half lidded eyes fixed on him as he keeps driving into you.

“You’re never gonna get rid of me, baby. I can’t imagine a life without you and I won’t. I won’t fucking do it,” he snarls, the sound a delicious noise reverberating between your two sweat slicked bodies.

“Satoru,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I mean it. Your pussy feels fucking amazing choking my cock, but that isn’t why I’m saying this,” he promises, never missing a beat as his impressive length pummels your poor, abused pussy.

“Satoru!” You cry, hand wrapping around his wrist, your hand so small in comparison to his.

“That’s it. Keep crying for me. Keep saying my fucking name. You will only ever say my name when you feel this good. Do you understand me?”

You nod, staring up at him, fighting the need to screw your eyes shut and the pressure in the depths of your core threatens to snap and ignite your entire body on fire.

“Good,” he grits out, teeth clenched as he doubles down, railing his rock hard cock into you, rushing you towards your finish.

All you can do is hold the fuck on as he sends you flying, soaring up into the heavens as you howl his name. Only his name. The only one you ever wanted to leave your lips as you enter complete and total, all encompassing bliss.

“Fuck,” he sighs, a shiver rocking his body as every muscle in his imposing form tenses and he breaks with you.

He grunts, his body flexing right as something in him snaps and he continues bullying his dick into your pulsing walls. They hug him so tight he feels like he might black out.

For a moment, he swears he does. His hips cast forward on their own, forcing him impossibly deeper as his tip knocks against the deepest part of you, spilling his seed inside to claim you once and forever as his and his alone.

Both of you are lost in a haze, but nothing has ever been more clear to the man panting in your ear. He needs you. He cannot live without you and he’s only sorry that it took him so long to admit it.

That’s why he showed up at your door tonight. Begging for you to just let him in and hear him out. That’s how you ended up right here, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs while your nerves scream and sing in response to every little touch that he offers your overstimulated form.

“I love you,” he reaffirms, the words a soft whisper against your collarbone as he trails his lips across them.

“I love you too,” you whisper, still in disbelief that you’re able to add the little ‘too’ on the end of that sentence.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t say it before, but I’ve always felt it. I’ve always needed you,” he swears, collapsing beside you to bundle you into his arms.

His gentle lips pepper kisses across your scalp, your forehead, and your temple, slowly trialing across your face.

“I missed you. I mean that too, baby,” he says with more conviction than you’ve ever heard leave his lips, his voice shaking with emotion. “I will never leave you doubting that again. I swear. I fucking swear it.”

You’ve never seen him like this. Never heard his voice with anything other than pure, radiating confidence imbued within it. Now, his voice quakes. His tone is full of tremors and uncertainty, something that is foreign to the one who has always known himself as the strongest. Weakness had no place in his words.

But with you, he is weak and he knows it. He has always known it and just never spoken the words aloud, but if it means keeping you. Having you, he will gladly break down those walls to keep you within them. He will build them back up to keep you here with him forever. Where you belong.

“I love you. I was scared and I can say that now. I was too petrified then. Afraid that I’d lose you somehow, but I went and did that anyway and I would do anything not to do that again,” he whispers, his nose nudging against your cheek.

“I’m yours, baby,” you whisper back. “I have always been yours for the taking. I’m not going anywhere.”

Relief washes over him as he holds you tighter, his spindly fingers dragging across your spine.

“I won’t let you,” he vows, holding you close enough that you believe he’s trying to mold you directly into his body. Into his ribs.

Straight into his heart, which you have no doubts that you now know belongs solely to you.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a like, comment, or reblog and they are all greatly appreciated <3

[fire-lizard-ro]

Woo~ Hope you're ready to read Mr. Sunday taking you…

Up the ass- Psych, mfs-

Bet you didn't expect that one from me, huh? I know I normally don't write bottom character, but... I felt like it? I want to see this man wrecked.

I'm writing for both bottom Sunday and top Sunday on this glorious- checks time moonlit (I haven't checked outside and idk what day it is today) night. A little birdy told me she wanted to see bottom Sunday first. Call yourself out if you wanna. 😂

CW: COCK JUMPSCARE- (jk), anal (I mean- come on you knew this), choking (+a little breath play y'all please be sure to make this distinction when talking about it ijsige-), edging, overstimulation, discussion of safe-wording, dom/sub stuff, mention of subspace, spanking, toys (there's an anal plug and cock ring), degradation (+praise), nipple play, harness???, bondage, collaring, slight public play, some subbing from Sunday and some power bottoming (but we'll be focusing on him subbing- it's only really mentioned), prone bone+cat position(that's what it's called, right???)+mating press, some namecalling (ex: praising - good boy, degrading - slut, etc., etc.), crying during sex (the good kind), marking, begging, dumbification, mention of being ashamed but liking it, belly bulge, slight cumflation/excessive cum, excessive lube, objectification(I think???), talk of his cock being useless (it's sex talk I swear reader doesn't mean it-), ever so slight gaping, cumming dry

Reader gender: Gender neutral, but you can envision what you want. Reader has a dick/strap and the cum can be uhhh- Lube? Is that what people put in squirting straps-

If I forgot to add anything to the CW or made any typos- Whoops. You can let me know if you wanna~

Personally, I think Sunday would be a switch. How he leans is up to you. But when he's topping, I see him being more prone to domming. Opposite can be said of when he's bottoming. More likely to sub, but does have his moments when he wants to take control again.

While I do love a good "turnabout is fair play", I think that considering Sunday's need to be in control (…the leaks told me so-), he needs a clean cut decision on what you'd be doing that night. If you've decided together that he'd be topping and domming, don't try to take over please- It'd probably fray his nerves and make him upset. This is because for him, I imagine that he'd need to mentally prepare himself and get in the mindset to sub. He loves giving up the control he holds onto so tightly, but he needs to remind himself that it's okay. That he can trust you and that you'll make him feel so, so good for his concession.

But by god is he a vision when he does slip into that submissive mindset.

It'd start with you two showering together after a long day of Sunday upholding the harmony of Penacony and dealing with any issues that arose to threaten that peace. It's both a way to wind down and to ease him into letting you take care of him and allowing him to slowly loosen his grasp on his control.

Soft touches and soothing words whispered in his ears between the sounds of water with gentle hands petting his wings has him melting into you. The stiff set of his shoulders, imperceptible to all but you, relaxes and the tension drains from his body along with the water as it swirls down the drain.

It is also now that you take out the plug he'd been wearing today while he was away from home. The night before, he'd just finished with you when you two took to the shower and you helped him clean up before stretching his pretty hole with lubed, insistent but gentle fingers. The plug went in nicely after that, the little jeweled heart of the plug's flared base in your color marking him as yours.

He hides behind his wings as you pull at the plug, the toy tugging at his rim that you trace with a playful finger. But of course you nose at them until he lets you in to kiss him soothingly, his wings then pressed to your cheeks to hide you both from the spray of the shower head and the rest of the world. It's just you two here and now. He would gasp a little as the plug slid out to the widest part of the toy. Thin and perfectly groomed eyebrows would furrow while you play with him a little. Push it back in carefully before slowly pulling it back to the wide part again a few times before finally bringing it out fully, rewarding him with "good boy" and "thank you for indulging me" and more kisses.

Once you both are finally in bed, that's when the fun begins.

You both go over the rules again. What to do if he ever wants to stop, reminding him that ultimately he is still in control because he controls if they stop or not. He's the efficient and straightforward type. Traffic light system along with three firm taps if he couldn't talk was enough for him. (Let it be known that when you started dating him, he was not at all aware of these things. I think he'd have been inexperienced to sex beyond vanilla beforehand.)

Tonight, you two were going to use a lot of implements (?). You laid them out, making sure that they were the same as the ones you discussed using prior (yes I think Sunday needs for you two to explicitly discuss beforehand and honestly I agree with him unless you like spontaneity) and going over what you'd do with them to recheck with him that he was okay with it. Consent is sexy, folks.

You then kiss him while fixing the collar on him, checking that it wasn't too tight. He liked using a collar when subbing because it helped him reach subspace and was something the two of you trained him to relax more with when subbing. Helps calm his constantly racing thoughts. The next step is the harness. It's a pretty pale blue-grey that matches his soft hair and is worn with his legs through it and over his hips. They're there for easier handling on your part. The fact that they accentuate his soft, shapely ass and strong thighs is a very welcome bonus. When you put it on for him, please make sure to kiss up his legs all the way to his hipbones while you pull up the harness you helped him step into. Nibble on said hipbones a bit and kiss his navel, near dangerously close to his neglected cock that twitched cutely at your proximity to it. Once that's done you can lube up his hard-on with one cursory tug in order to slip on the cock ring. He won't be getting any more than that for most of the night.

You then have him on him hands and knees so you can get him in position and bind him. Tonight would be a simple set of padded cuffs. You would push between his shoulder blades to guide him to press his chest to the bed, leaning down to kiss down his spine while pulling his hands gently pull his hands behind his back to put the cuffs on. Be sure to praise him for being a good boy, for doing so well for you as you prepared him for the night.

Once that's done, press one more kiss to his body. This time on the top curve of his soft ass before lubing him up some more. It's never bad to be safe about things and there's more than enough chance that he needs more as it dried throughout the day.

Tease him by purposefully tapping on his prostate softly while making sure he's stretched enough and wet with lube coating his inner walls that clenched around your skilled fingers.

Keep going until he finally asks you in a small voice to get on with it. "Hm? What was that?" "You heard me-" "Only good boys get what they want and good boys ask for what they want." You aren't going to make him beg for it (yet), but you'll still make him ask for it like the good, polite boy you know he is.

(Okay we're switching styles here, folks.)

"F-fine… Please fuck me," Sunday said, words trailing of into a mumble. You knew what he was saying, but you didn't really hear it. "What was that? Couldn't hear you, baby." "I-" he angled his head to glare back at you with traces of a pout tugging at his lips. He then turned again to avoid your eyes that took in his face, pressed to the bed and needy. "…please fuck me." "Was that so hard, pretty boy? Since you asked…" You slipped your fingers out slow, letting him feel the drag of them against his sensitive walls as he gave a shuddering sigh. Sunday had attempted to keep it under wraps, but it still slipped out.

Your chuckle caused him to flush more, a wing attempting to hide his face despite you being unable to see it from this spot behind him.

As you slicked up your cock, you watched his hole twitch and cock sway as he unconsciously sunk his hips back more as if to ask you for your thick length in his hungry, empty hole. "Aeons you have the prettiest ass, you know that?" You then finally line yourself up, the head of your dick pressing to the still tight but prepped hole's rim as you slide your hands down the man's sides to grasp his hips before sliding fingers into the straps of the harness that cradled his slim hips.

The angelic man beneath you held his breath in anticipation for a moment. "Breathe, baby." And then you were pushing in, slowly spearing open that wet warmth. He gasped and jolted, but your hand was quick to hold him down by the back of his neck while the other kept an iron grip on the harness to keep his hips steady. A whine escaped Sunday as he attempted to close his legs at the delicious sensation of your cock sliding deep into him- Up to the hilt. Once you bottomed out, he was already panting like he was in heat and his wings that had flared and flexed while you had been pushing inside drooped to rest on the bed.

Your cock was so big- So deep in him he swore he could feel it in the back of his throat, his own cock drooling messily onto previously clean sheets where it hung between his legs. It throbbed as he finally had a clear enough mind to remember the cock ring you'd fastened onto his needy dick. "Such a good slut for me, taking everything." He felt a bold of shame, yet it made his cheeks redden with more than shame. Arousal. As he felt mixed feelings of pleasure and shame swirling in his gut, he also then felt something else in there- Your cock grinding heavily, steadily into him with hips rubbing against his plush ass.

Sunday allowed himself to lean into the pleasure you provided, hips moving back into your slow but strong humps forward. Your cock was sliding over his prostate so nicely and it had him closing his eyes to focus in on it. The arch of his back deepened, emphasizing the lean musculature of his back and bringing out the little dimples above his ass as you leaned forward to put more your weight into your grinding. The pressure inside him and on his neck had his eyes fluttering along with his wings. A moan startled out of him when you proceeded to nibble on said wings, teeth gently nibbling along the fragile bone in the first bend of the feathery appendage. Your hand moved from its spot holding the back of Sunday's neck to press him face first into the bedding moved to instead wrap around his throat, turning him towards you so you could steal a sloppy kiss from him. It was filthy and wet, the sounds of it joining the wet squelch and the slight sound of skin on skin as you began to thrust. His whine was swallowed up by your mouth and when you pulled back he looked a bit dazed, uncomprehending eyes looking at the string of saliva between your lips and his that was promptly licked away by your sinful tongue.

"So good- Such a good boy, yeah? You're all mine aren't you?" He was deep enough in that he just nodded at he tried to rearrange his thoughts. That idea was de-railed when you thrust hard and spanked his ass with the hand not holding his throat, grip tightening enough to make him a bit lightheaded. "Words, harlot. Tell me how you're mine- How good I make you feel." The name made him feel deliciously ashamed of how he was really letting someone push him down and fuck him like a whore. But aeons did he love it. He managed to get out in between panting breaths a, "So good so good please- 'M all yours-" "That's a good cockslut. But just for me right?" "Just for you-"

You rewarded him by speeding up your thrusts, slowly ramping up how hard you fucked into his clenching heat that pushed out lube with every push in- You had made sure to use a lot so he would have to hear the obscene sound of your fucking him and dominating him. His moans became louder along with it, a whimper escaping him when your thrusts forced his hips to the bed. His once neglected cock now lay trapped between him and then bed as yours wrecked him and claimed him. He began babbling about how it felt, how it was like you were in his belly how it was too much not enough please please- Sunday was begging, now, with his drooling mouth, hole, and cock.

"I didn't know toys were supposed to speak- Especially when not spoken to." Your hand tightened around his neck again, this time pressing so it made it a bit harder for him to breathe. "Shhhh- Just be quiet and take it, pretty baby. I'll make you feel good. Make you forget all those troublesome thoughts. Don't you wanna be my dumb little slut? Only focus on taking my cock?" Yeah… he did. He wanted to let go of all the thoughts making his head hurt and give in, even if just for a little while. You'd taken care of him before. Now wasn't any different.

Even through the grip on his throat, he still let out little "ah- ah- ah-" sounds to the rhythm of your hips slapping into his ass, pushing your cock into his deepest parts. Yet you made it feel so good- It didn't hurt at all. All he could think about was how filthy he was and how pleasurable it was. Sunday must have tried to wheeze something out despite everything because you said, "Yeah? You like being dirty for me? A filthy slut for be behind closed doors while in public you act like such a proper leader? What would your dear people think of you if they knew you got fucked like a used prostitute- a mere toy?" You then let go of his throat to let him speak, the air rushing into his lungs making his head spin. "I- I love it! Love it so much please please lemme cum lemme cum on your cock-!"

Another spank to his ass had his hole tightening around you, a cry being startled out of him and tears beading at his lash line. "Good boy-" You then slowed a bit, causing him to whine despite how he had been held on edge for a while, now. Still wanting the bright hot pleasure despite the agony of being denied his release. "Color, baby?" "Mmmf- Green-" "Good boy-" A kiss was pressed to a wing before you harshly thrusted in and went back to pounding him within an inch of his life. Every thrust forced his body up and down the bed, cock an angry red and leaking profusely. Sunday buried his face into the pillow, tears staining them as they came faster. "Please- Let me cum, please! I'll do anything!" "Anything?"

Maybe that was a mistake.

One that had you yanking your dick out of his hole, the greedy thing clenching around nothing as if missing your cock in it. He whined pitifully, tears staining his face as he sobbed into the bedding. Fuck did he sound good. You uncuffed him to flip him over, tossing the things somewhere to the side of the bed. He was unable to keep up with the sudden changes and before he knew it, you were pressing his thighs to his chest in a mating press, cock sliding up and down his own teasingly. "Such a big cock and yet you don't even know how to use it. It's just a big, dumb, useless thing hanging between your legs. All you need is this slutty hole of yours, right?" Your thumb came down to rub at the slightly gaped hole, smearing the lube even more over his sloppy pucker that twitched at your touch.

He hid his face with his wings, flushed and crying as you belittled his cock. He was only good as an anal slut for you. But his wings flared open as he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. You had sunk your teeth into the spot in reprimand and to mark your toy as yours. "What did I say about that? No hiding." He whimpered and nodded- A spank. "Words." "I won't hide anymore!" "Good toy."

Once you slid in, his mind went blank again. Though somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he noted- Oh. You were in his belly. There on the otherwise flat surface that scrunched up from his position, was the slight bulge of your cock in his guts. "Look at you- So pretty." You pressed on it, making him toss his head back with a pitchy moan, hips jerking under you and insides clenching wetly at the dick they were sucking on while his hands flew up to claw at your back desperately. As you leaned over him to lick into his mouth, you then reached one hand between you to slip off the cockring. "You wanted to cum- So cum." You immediately began a brutal pace that had him screaming as he finally was able to find his release, hurtling off that cliff and vision going white as he emptied his cum onto his stomach and yours, the pressure of having held it in so long and the angle of your mating press- The jerking of his hips from you shoving your deliciously big dick into his hungry little hole forcing his cum to splatter over his chest and on his neck and even wings. It was like a sinful angel was laying beneath you.

You slowed, then, and he let his breathing begin to even out. But it was an act of deception because you transferred his legs from your hold to over your shoulders and grabbed hold of his softened cock that laid on his cum covered belly to begin fucking him hard. He screamed and whimpered at the onslaught of now almost painful pleasure. "Wait no no no- Can't- Too much! Stop please I can't cum again-" "I know you can. You've done it before. Come on- Give me another one. Haven't even filled you up, yet."

He began crying even harder, tears blurring his vision as he panted and whimpered while his thoughts slipped away. Even as his mind went blank, his body still responded with his hips jerkily trying to meet your thrusts even as the twitched in overstimulation. Later he would glare at you with tears in his eyes and a pout while declaring that he would be in charge the next time he bottomed and would hold you down, instead, to take what he wanted. But for now, he could only let his hole be used as a warm, wet little cock sleeve. He choked on his drool as you bent him further so you could lean down to tongue his sensitive nipples, sucking bruises and hickeys into his chest and even right around his nipples- Going as far as to nibble on them.

It felt like hours of cumming and cumming and cumming and losing his mind as you fucked him and wrung out every drop of his spend and pleasure as you could along with the tears that still poured from his puffy eyes. It didn't help that he could feel the way you were filling him up with your own cum, having only orgasmed the second time he did. He was cumming dry when you finally slowed, kissing him gently and rubbing at his slightly distended belly that was full of your cum sloshing inside.

"Did so good for me, baby. I love you so much- Such a good boy for me." You helped him slowly come back down, helping to ground him as the high faded. You had slowly lowered his legs from your shoulders. This was why you always ended facing each other. So he could have that intimacy towards the end of seeing you and being able to kiss you. And so you could help him return to earth Penacony after you were done milking the cum and pleasure and pesky thoughts out of him.

Once he was back with you, you made sure to praise him more and kiss him all over his face before finally coming back to his lips to kiss him slow and deep. "Come on. Gotta drink water, birdie." You always made sure to help him up, let him lean against you as you began aftercare. "I love you," you would remind him at the end of it all. "I love you, too darling," he would always reply back, sealing it with a kiss.

Ah yes. Another round of: Roro writes entirely to much and with far too much detail. I made this one even longer and more detailed as well as included a bunch of writing in more story format rather than headcanon-ish form like I normally do. Because I'm back in business!!! (To write smut about hot characters I like-)

Hope you enjoyed~

-Roro, your friendly neighborhood degenerate

[literatureloverx]

HIII OMG IT'S BEEN A WHILE😊😊(Not really) HOW ARE YOU DOING RN??? I HOPE YOUR FEELING GOOD IF NOT I HOPE THIS MAKE YOU FEEL NICE😘😘♥️♥️

Ah imagine this with me— you reading a book peacefully while dazai lays on your lap. Him staring into you thinking about how much you make him feel so warm inside. You'd notice it after a while and ask what's up and he'll try and say something to change the subject but you'd notice yet still let him. He'd yap about some random things and you'd just nod, brushing his hair with your hand.

Orrr

You just trying to do something whether it's cooking or laundry is up to you. Then he'd come from your back and hug you tightly, whining about how you're so busy why not rest and cuddle with him? You'd patiently deny it and try to continue but he whines more, snuggling into your neck hugging you tighter. His head on your neck made you ticklish and you laugh and try to get him off but he just continue till you can't anymore

Ah imagine that🫠🫠

Oh my gosh, ANON??!! It’s so adorable! ❤️ Thank you so much for sharing this with us! ❤️

By the way, I’d love to be able to distinguish you from other Anons. Would you like to claim an emoji to use? ❤️ Everyone is welcome to do so, and it would really help me keep track of who’s who. I’d be grateful if you did! ❤️

I wrote a short scenario based on it; I hope you like it. 🩵

“My handsome baby is being so whiny…”

He smirks. It’s clearly working.

“Bella!~ You’re always cleaning up when I’m around! Am I not deserving of your affection, my glorious goddess?”

That exaggerated voice is so typical of your boyfriend; it makes you smile softly each time.

“That’s because you don’t let me stay home or anywhere else without you. You drag me wherever you go. When am I supposed to get things done? You’re not helping either—“

Oh, it’s clearly not working.

He whines loudly, making you jump. His teeth gently bite into your neck, causing you to hiss.

“You’re being so mean, doll. You know if there’s one thing I hate, it’s cleaning up.”

“No, I believe it’s work that you hate the most,” you tease.

He makes a wounded noise, emphasizing his hurt feelings. You sigh softly and turn to face your beloved boyfriend, his face pouty and soft for you.

You cup his cheeks gently, a warm smile spreading across your lips. Oh, how you love this man. His warm, chocolate-brown eyes pierce right through your heart every time he gazes at you with such desperation—it feels like both a blessing and a curse.

“Hey, don’t look so upset. I’ll give you all the affection you desire. I just wanted to finish emptying the dishwasher before resting.”

He wins. You know it, and you let him win, as you always do, and he knows that too.

“That’s why you’re mine, Bella!~”

He doesn’t wait any longer, showering you with kisses all over your face, just like you do with him every morning, making you giggle in return.

Soon enough, his warm lips find yours.

All his. Indeed.

TO DAZAI’S MASTERLIST => HERE

TO MY OTHER WORKS => HERE

[lousypotatoes]

What A Glorious Feeling

This chapter takes place after the pilot but before the first episode of the series.

Reader is a falcon demon, doesn't have a beak, wings drape over her kinda like Valentino's (i want him dead), reader has gray skin, usually wears a black tube top, black and white pinstripe pants, black boots, and has a daisy in her hair. Reader has the eyes and ears of a falcon and is also slightly cannibalistic.  Reader can summon any weapons at will and can move things with her mind, whenever she does this, her eyes glow red. Like Alastor, reader can also summon anything at will. If you had something else in mind for how the reader looks, you are more than welcome to imagine something different. 

I know Alastor is canonically aroace, but obviously, in this story he is not. Also, in this book, nobody knows the Radio Demon's name unless he decides to tell them. Sorry I should of said this earlier.

Song Recommendation:

I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Present day...

"Ah Dustin," Y/N said, walking over to the man, who was cowering in the corner. "You broke our deal. You know what happens to people who don't keep their word with me, don't you?"

"Please," he begged. "Give me one more month I promise-"

"You said the exact same thing six months ago," she spat angrily, her wings unfolding. 

"I swear-thi-this is the last time," he stuttered. "I just need-"

She summoned red chains, that latched onto Dustin's neck. Tugging the chains over to him, she grabbed his face, digging her claws into his cheeks. He let out a yelp of pain. 

"The deal was that if I killed your pathetic wife, I'd get your soul, and you would get me what I needed from that idiot overlord who thinks he's the shit, just because he's a pimp!" Y/N snarled, digging her claws in harder, drawing blood. "I have been more then generous towards you, and this is how you repay me?"

"I'm trying!" he cried out, tears running down his face. "Please just don't kill me!"

She had a small frown on her face. "I should rip you apart limb by limb," she said, calmly but in a deadly voice. "But I'm not goin' to do that," She removed the chains from his neck and put him down. 

"Thank you so much Assassin," Dustin said, wiping the blood off his cheeks. "I swear I will-"

He never finished his sentence. As fast as lighting, she summoned an axe and chopped his head clean off. 

"Instead, I'll make this is as quick and painless for you," she giggled, licking off the blood from the axe. "I'll have to thank Carmilla for the angelic steel at the next overlord meeting."

Using the axe, Y/N chopped up his limbs and stuffed them in a trash bag she had brought with her. 

"Cannibal town here I come," she smiled once she was done.

"Knock, knock," she said, knocking at the parlor door. 

"Y/N!" Rosie exclaimed upon seeing you. "What are you doing here so soon?" 

"I brought you a little somethin' to snack on," Y/N said, holding up the trash bag. 

"Oh you spoil me so much, my dear," Rosie said, licking her lips. 

"Anything for my closest friend," Y/N said, handing her the trash bag. 

"This is the fifth one this month," Rosie said, opening up the bag. "Sinners know better than to break a deal with you."

"They'll never learn, Rosie," she giggled as she took a seat on the couch. "Did you see the news the other day?"

"The Princess sure does have her hopes up for this hotel," Rosie answered, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Tea, Y/N?"

"No thank you," Y/N answered. "Do you think anyone would actually check in to that hotel?" 

"Who knows at this point," Rosie said, sipping her tea. "But judging by how people reacted, I don't think it's going to work out," 

"Shame," Y/N said. "It's a good idea, if it's actually possible."

"Say Y/N," she said, setting her cup down. "A friend of mine just recently got back into town. He's staying at this hotel," 

"Oh yeah?" Y/N asked curiously. "Who is it?"

"The Radio Demon," she said simply. 

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "He's been gone for seven years," she said. "Why on Earth would he return now? And why would he be stayin' at the Princess's hotel?"

"Satan knows," Rosie replied. "Y'know, you and him would really hit it off."

Y/N's eyebrow rose up. "Sorry my darlin'," she said, lightly chuckling. "The Radio Demon is most certainly not my type."

"You don't even know him," Rosie said, a slight frown on her face. 

"I don't need too," Y/N said curtly. "From what I know, he seems like a self-absorbed prick."

"Oh c'mon," Rosie nudged you. "The both of you have so much in common! You both like whiskey, you both like jazz, you both like killing people-"

"Why all of a sudden are you tryin' to play matchmaker?" Y/N interrupted. "And why The Radio Demon out of people?"

"Because you need to get out there!" Rosie said, smoothing out her dress. "Ever since I've known you, one of the main things you talk about is how in love you were when you were alive. What was his name again?" 

"His name was Alastor," she said, her heart hurting. "I've searched all of Hell Rosie. Either he's up in Heaven, or the Exorcists got to him."

"That's why I want you to meet him," Rosie said, patting Y/N's shoulder. "Please? Do it for little ol' me?" 

"I suppose so," she sighed. "I was already thinkin' about checkin' out the hotel anyway."

"Marvelous!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together "I promise, you won't regret it!"

Landing in front of the hotel, she knocked at the door, feeling nervous, her wings fluttered behind her. 

"I'm coming!" chirped a feminine voice from behind the door. 

Fiddling with the hem of her top, Y/N waited until the person opened up the door. 

 The princess herself opened the door. "Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin Hot-"

Upon seeing your face in the doorway, she immediately slammed the door shut. 

"Vaggie!" Charlie cried out. 

"What is it?" Vaggie asked, coming down the staircase. 

"The Assassin is at the door," Charlie panicked, pointing at the door. "What do we do?" 

"Really? Another fucking overlord?" Vaggie angrily said, walking over to the door. "I'll handle this."

The door opened up a second time. Instead of the princess, a girl with a large X over her eye appeared in the doorway. 

"What the hell do you want?" she asked suspiciously. 

"There's no need to be so hostile," Y/N said, putting up her hands. "I'm here to simply offer up my services."

"We don't need you to kill anyone,"

"Not those kinds of services," she laughed. "I want to help with your hotel."

"Thanks, but we already have an overlord helping us," Vaggie said, eyeing her up and down. 

"The Radio Demon, yes I know," she said, crossing her arms. "I still want to help,"

As Vaggie was about to close the door, Charlie popped up beside her. 

"Wait Vaggie, we could use her help," she said, smiling. "With two overlords helping us, we can get a lot more done!" 

"You have a point," Vaggie grumbled. "But I'm keeping my eye on you," 

Charlie beckoned you to come in. "Thank you, Princess Morningstar," Y/N said, stepping inside.

"Oh please, just call me Charlie," she waved off. "This is Vaggie," she gestured to the girl with the X.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both,"

"Thank you!" Charlie gushed. "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel-er-"

"Y/N," she said. "My name is Y/N."

"Right! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel Y/N! Would you like a tour?"

"Of course,"

"Why does the bar look like that?" Y/N asked after the tour was over. 

"Someone blew it up a few days ago," Charlie said simply. "Our facility manager fixed it up so it's nothing to worry about!" 

"Oh-uh-" Y/N didn't know was to say. "I'm glad it's all fixed."

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "I have to introduce you to everyone! C'mon!" Charlie grabbed her arm and dragged her away. 

"This is Nifty, our maid," she said gesturing to the small demon, cleaning the floor. "Nifty, this is Y/N, she'll be staying with us 

Nifty turned around and her eye widened and she smiled in a scary way. 

"Ooooo! I've never seen a bad girl before!" she said menacingly as she crawled up on you. "Do you want to punish some bad boys with me?"

"Just give me the time and place, sweetie," Y/N said, putting Nifty down. Nifty quicky ran off.

"She's mostly harmless," Charlie said nervously. "Just don't let her bite you."

"I'll keep that in mind," she laughed. 

"This is Husk, our bartender," she said gleefully. 

Husk was drinking from a bottle, he nodded at Y/N but didn't say anything. 

"It's nice to meet you, Husk," she said politely. 

Husk recognized her at second glance, almost spitting out his booze, he decided not to say anything about it, though. 

"Oooooo heya Y/N~" said a voice. 

Y/N turned around and grinned. "It's nice to see you again Angel Dust,"

"Ohhh it's nice to see you too baby~" he said seductively. 

"Oh that's wonderful!" Charlie exclaimed, her eyes sparkilng. "You two know each other!"

"Yeah, we met at a party a while back," Y/N explained. "He kept wantin' to look at a sword that I had just got."

"Y'know babycakes," Angel said, walking over to her. "I could show you my sword, if you want~"

"Another time, Angel," Y/N laughed, Charlie laughed awkwardly with her. 

"Well, I think that's it!" Charlie said, clapping her hands together. "I'll show you to your room and if there's anything you need, just-"

"Oh, we have a new guest?  Heavens, why didn't anyone tell me?" said a staticky voice. 

Y/N turned and saw the infamous Radio Demon standing right behind her. Upon closer inspection, there was a look in his eyes that seemed familiar. 

Too familiar. 

Y/N had loved looking into those eyes, it had brought comfort to her. 

"Oh my gosh! How could I forget!" Charlie said. "Y/N is going to be helping us around the hotel just like you!" 

At the mention of her name, something pulled at Alastor's heartstrings. 

"Well, we need all the help we can get, that's for certain," Alastor laughed.

That laugh, Y/N had imagined it every single day when she arrived in Hell.

"Y/N, this is our facility mana-"

"Alastor?"

Her voice, it sounded like an angel. Alastor remembered the first time he heard it. Everything clicked into place for the both of them.

"Y/N?"

Sorry if all the characters are a little ooc. I need to rewatch the show lmao. 

THERES AN ECLIPSE TODAY!!!

stay safe out there you little rascals <33

xoxo, Izzy

[reallychaoticwoo]

Can we get an ATEEZ reaction to an atiny accidentally being in the same hotel room as member. And they walk in on her squirting from her fingers?

⛓️ Ooo! This sounds super fun 🫠 I'm not gonna lie it took me a while to figure out how to do them being in the same room since i couldnt wrap my brain around how that'd even happen lmfao but yeah. Also, this will be two parts as these ended up being a bit longer! Anyways, i hope you enjoy! Thank you for your support!⛓️

✨️ Hotel Happenings Part 1 ✨️

Part 2

❤️Pairing: Ateez x reader

⚠️Warnings: MDNI!! Cussing, suggestive, smutty, demon line Hwa, teasing dom Joong, nervous to dom Yu and Yeo

‼️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idols in any way‼️

🖤Hope you enjoy!🖤

YOU: After the concert you'd made your way to your hotel room. Replaying the events of the night and how good Ateez on stage. You laid down in bed imagining all the way those silks from Wake Up could be used, or how good it'd feel to have them shh you like they do the floor. It wasn't very long before your fingers made their way south and brought you closer and closer to your climax.

HONGJOONG:

After a long day on stage he was glad to get to his room to relax. As he opened the door his eyes widened and his mouth gaped. You whipped your head quickly towards him, embarrassment rising up to your face. "I.. uh... sorry. How'd you get in here?" His shock quickly turned to a too composed smirk. "Well it is my room so I think I should be asking you that. Though what I'd really like to ask is which one of us where you thinking about?" He'd noted the lightiny with his own aniteez on it and his picket sitting on the desk in the corner of the room. He stalked his way closer to you waiting for your response. "I.. uh.." You trailed off feeling too embarrassed, too vulnerable to finish. "Was it me? Is that why you can't say it? Too bad. If it was me I'd have helped you live out whatever fantasy you were thinking of." He tsked, before turning to leave you to yourself. In a self induced panic you quickly blurted out, "It was you! I was thinking of you!" His smirk returned as he made his way to you and replaced your hand that had been resting on your thigh with his own. He leaned into you, so close you could pucker your lips and you'd be kissing, and whispered, "Good girl. Now lay back and tell me what you were thinking about while I take care of tour pretty little pussy."

SEONGHWA:

He was ready to relax, maybe go live and build legos with atiny, he just was ready to be in his room and off the stage. He'd opened the door but hadn't even noticed you until the door shut behind him and he finally looked up. There you were scrambling to cover your lower half with the soaked sheets. Your cheeks flushed and your chest heaving. "I didn't realize I'd have such a glorious surprise waiting for me in my room. Who let you in, beautiful?" He cocked his head to the side, a soft smile on his face as he awaited your answer. "Uh, no one let me in. I have a key it's my room. I'd ask you the same but I'm not complaining that you're here so by all means make yourself comfortable. I'll ask room service for new sheets." He chuckled at tour forwardness, but nodded to himself. "No need for new sheets yet cutie. Let me see that pretty little outfit again. I'm assuming from the corset I saw before you covered up, you either like me or mingi." You blushed and nodded. "Mingi's not bad, but he doesn't compare to you. Your stage presence is unmatched and that inner demon you release may have brought me to my own release." He eyed you up and down taking in every inch. "Stage isn't the only place the demon can come out. Now why don't you lay back and let me earn another release in person."

YUNHO:

Walking into his room, ready to game the rest of his night away he came to a halt as the door shut behind him. His cheeks reddened and he immediately looked to the floor. "I'm so sorry I didn't realize someone would be in my room. The staff must've mixed up the key cards." You tried hiding the soaked sheets and pushed your skirt down before hopping off the bed. "Its okay, and I'm covered now. You don't have to stare at the floor. Sorry you saw that.." He only blushed harder before he willed himself to speak again. "I.. I mean I didn't mind. Not gonna lie it was really hot. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, that wasn't for me to see." You giggled at the flustered giant of a man and walked closer to him stopping about two feet away. You rocked back and forth on your feet smiling softly. "Would you feel better if I told you that in a way it was. Well, it was because of you at least. You looked great tonight and I uh thought I'd be alone so I got a little carried away." You were the one blushing now. "Oh.. OH. Really?? Well in that case, why don't you tell me all about your night and we can see were things take us?" You smiled and nodded but quickly added "Not to be too demanding or anything but couldn't I just tell you while I sit myself on your lap? I'm dying to see if the rumors are true." He smirked before going sitting on the office chair and pulling you onto his lap. He leaned forward his breath brushing your ear and said, "Oh they are, and you'll get to see for yourself if you can be good while you tell me about your night."

YEOSANG:

He just wanted to eat and sleep. That's all that he was thinking about as he made his way into his room and shut the door. He was heading towards the bathroom when your moan finally alerted him that someone was on his room. He turned his head in time to catch your glistening release soak the bed he was supposed to be sleeping in tonight. His cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of pink. Unable to avert his eyes, he just froze in his spot staring at you. "Uh, Yeosang.. you don't have to keep staring. You could uh, you could maybe join me If you'd like?" Your words where breathy and you hoped he wouldn't immediately run at your forwardness. His eyes just widened and he slowly made his way closer to the bed where you still laid. "Do you, uh, think you can do that again?" He asked, his hands busy undoing his belt. "For you? I'm sure I could do it again just looking at you." He chuckled and slid his pants down along with his boxers. Pulling his shirt off next he said, "As much as I'd love to see that, and to tease the hell out of you, I really want to feel you wrapped around me." You gulped in anticipation. "Please, don't hold back. I promise I won't break, just might make a mess." You blushed as you pulled him down onto you, eager to feel his skin on yours. "I wasn't planning on it, tiny. Do me a favor though, don't hold back on your moans. I wanna hear that pretty voice of yours slowly dissappear tonight." He punctuated his words by entering you with one swift thrust that had you moaning loudly. "Good girl."

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter two

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,2k

❱ summary: meeting Thranduil; memories of first and past encounters

❱ warnings: alcohol, the usual swearing and bantering

❱ an: first look at the dadd.. father Thranduil! What do we think? hehe :)

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER TWO: THRANDUIL

Thranduil's appearance shouldn't have surprised you that much, he was Legolas' father after all and owned the very table you sat at.

But here you were; hands clenched in your lap as you drank in the glorious sight of him.

Thranduil Oropherion took your breath away every time you saw him and now that you were slightly drunk and already caught unguarded more than ever.

As CEO of his law firm, he usually never drove home before midnight, so seeing him at a relatively early hour - a good quarter hour before 11 - was unusual.

On other occasions, when you found yourself at Legolas' place at a later hour, he would make a modest effort at conversation but promptly excuse himself to retire to his rooms.

Today, the man in front of you looked quite chipper, his sharp eyes wandered through the round before it lingered on you.

"You were far from getting her," Thranduil mocked his son, "or she wouldn't have lost interest so quickly. Though I doubt it had ever been there, had it?" He smirked.

You blushed under his gaze, which stayed on you as he slowly unbuttoned his long black coat with long and nimble fingers; it brought a diziness that wiped out everything in your mind.

"All tactics, Thranduil," you blurted out, though your voice threatened to break away.

Quickly, you took a sip of your now lukewarm beer. It did not help whatssoever.

After swallowing, you tipped the bottle toward the board, "When his mind is on his ego, he doesn't play quite as well and well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't take complete advantage of that?"

At the indignant "Hey!" of your best friend, Thranduil laughed gravelly and warmly. "Very good tactics- you're such a clever girl."

Oh god.

His praise hit you right in the heart and before you could control yourself, the blood rushed hot to your cheeks.

You nodded, because now you knew you couldn't trust your voice.

With a dry throat, even though you had just finished drinking, you watched as he stripped off his coat, revealing one of those perfectly fitted brown suits that drove you crazy.

No ones Dad should be allowed to look this hot, right?

But of course, here he was; looking exactly what you imagined model agencies were after.

Legolas had to have gotten his looks from somewhere and one look was sufficient to pin point exactly from who.

They had the same long blonde hair, though Thranduil's flowed down his back like molten silver while Legolas embodied the warmth of sunshine in his blond strands.

Their features mirrored each other as well, from the enchanting light blue eyes to the dark eyebrows and prominent cheekbones, though then there were Thranduil's lips, tinged with a rosy hue, that, when curled into a smile, not only lit up his whole face but every cell in your body as well.

He was a total DILF, a more refined version of his equally beautiful son and wouldn't you've had befriended Legolas and met his father, you're sure that you would have become on of Las's admirers.

And oh Thranduil's height played into his imposing figure as well, around 6,5' tall and built with broad shoulders that flexed under his white shirt, tightening it as he folded his arms behind his back and walked toward your little round.

Unconsciously, your head moved along with his relaxed steps, following the swing of his hips and the casualty with which he loosened the tie around his neck. You admired him for his sauntering, no matter how he walked, how he stood and how he sat, he radiated an incomparable elegance.

He came to a stop right behind you, propped one hand on the back of your chair to lean down slightly, and you took in a cloud of his senses-thrilling perfume, rich and noble and underneath the smell of just him.

Leaning lightly against his fingers, you sensed the pressure of the rings adorning his slender hands against your back, prompting you to automatically straighten up.

If someone else behaved like you, the fawning, the blushing, gods– the giggling and utterly nonsense you could ramble whenever Thranduil was close, you would have called them completely ridiculous and a lovesick fool.

It had taken a lot of effort to face what your body, your heart, your soul and your whole being demanded.

That it was the father of your best friend hadn't necessarily made it easier for you.

The first time you met Thranduil Oropherion was at the end of the second semester, on a night that, while seeming ordinary, marked a turning point in your life.

It was mid-February, the day of your last exam before the semester break. An exam with Professor Sauron on the last day—seriously, who came up with such sadistic ideas?

Frustrated, you decided the only logical solution was to hit your favorite bar.

The cozy joint quickly filled up with your fellow students. Fast forward a few hours, and there you were, getting schooled by Aragorn in Beer Pong, winning a drinking contest against Gimli, and belting out "Mr. Brightside" with Legolas on karaoke. Looking back, it had to be one of your finest performances. The two of you would get compliments for "rocking that shit" that never really ended.

So, none of you were in any shape to catch the usual bus back home.

Surprisingly, even Aragorn, who usually doesn't party to the point of a near coma like you, was holding his own with the beer. Plus, there wasn't enough cash left for a cab.

You pushed the problem aside until the bar shut off the music in the wee hours, and the remaining patrons were tossed into the night.

Confronted with the cold February air, you had to make a quick decision; none of you wanted to spend the semester break sick in bed.

So, Legolas, after fumbling with his cell phone and struggling to find the right number in his contacts, called his father.

It was only after the short call, in which Legolas slurred a "See you soon, Ada," that you thought about whether you had just woken the man up.

Although Legolas assured you several times how little his father slept and that he had likely been working, you couldn't help but worry about your first encounter with your best friend's father.

The few details you had managed to extract from the blonde, who had fallen asleep on your shoulder, were that he's "totally cool as long as I don't barve over the seats" and that his name was Thranduil.

It was a name that now rolled smoothly over your tongue, strange and enticing, and that he wasn't just a lawyer but owned an entire law firm, "the one that took down that one asshole, y'know?"

Knowing Legolas, his grades and the level of intelligence he had whenever he wasn't in love or drunk, it made sense that his father had cared a great deal about his education.

That you felt sick to your stomach and nervous about meeting the man was an understatement. There was a part in you that was ready to run into the night as to avoid meeting your best friends father drunk and barely dressed; and that for the first time.

A man so firm in his attitudes about work and education surely had no joy in picking up his son, drunk as hell, in the middle of the night or playing cab driver for his equally drunk friends.

Those thoughts vanished as soon as a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of the sidewalk and he stepped out.

He could've been Legolas older brother by the looks of them.

Adorned, as usual, in impeccably coordinated slacks and a crisply pressed shirt, this time in a striking bordeaux hue, Thranduil exuded a forbiddingly handsome presence.

The long platinum hair framed his face, pulled up into a ponytail, and his piercing eyes thoroughly surveyed you as he stepped out.

Even if your ass was freezing off on the stone, you were glad to be sitting down. Your legs had turned into jelly as you peared up.. and up and up those long legs.

His first words caught you off guard.

You had expected a lecture about your drinking habits or a mocking comment along the lines of: "partied a little too hard, did we?"

However, the first thing Thranduil said was a warm, "You'll catch your death out there, hop in!" before ushering you into the car.

Wrapped in a surprisingly cozy blanket he provided, you sat in the passenger seat moments after loading a still-dozing (and very much drooling) Legolas into the back seat with Gimli and Aragorn. It wasn't a long drive, but the heated seats and the exhaustion of the day quickly lulled the boys into a sleep you couldn't share.

Determined to stay awake, to make a good impression on Thranduil, you wanted to talk to him and thank him for the ride.

Somehow, you couldn't manage to open your mouth. Instead, it was he who broke the silence with a lowered voice at a red light.

"You must be the woman Legolas won't stop talking about," he stated, your name rolling off his tongue, and at your nod, he smirked. "Legolas has told me so much about you that I wondered when I might finally meet you."

Your eyes were glued to the man at the wheel, not just because of his handsome face and the way he pronounced your name. The last part would have you swooning, wondering how your own name could sound so... sensual on anyones lips.

It was easy to fall into conversation with him after that, even if the beginning was a bit bumpy on your part due to sobering up. You may have forgotten what seminars you took and completly got off road babbling about the books you needed to read, that didn't matter though.

Thranduil listened to you, looked at you, and responded to your stories and opinions with such interest and wit that something in you was released, something that would stay with you for a long time.

He did it a lot now, watching you, looking at you and like, really looking at you with his cerulean eyes that broke through every wall you've ever built around yourself.

It was clear from the beginning that this wasn't some boy like the ones you went on dates with before.

He was a man who showed his interest in what you had to say and what you thought because he was interested in you and not because he wanted to get into your pants.

While Thranduil wasn't always there, making himself sparse whenever the four of you got too loud for him or giving you the freedom to use the house as a second home, those moments where he did join you left an even greater indent in your heart that slowly carved a Thranduil-sized shape into the muscle.

Take last winter for example.

Christmas was coming closer every day, bringing with it the usual hustle of cramming in study sessions for the last exams to be taken while trying to work through the bullet list of activities that Legolas had planned.

They were more meticulous and even color coordinated which made a fine example of his study habits when you tried to quiz him on one of the many topics and all he could list was when and where the first Christmas markets would open. He hadn't even bothered to fake taking an interest in studying.

You loved him, very much so but he tested your skills on holding back and smacking him so much that you needed to get up and get out of the living room. Gimli and he would be alright if you left them alone for a second. Surely.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the high entrance hall as you sat down on the stairs, shuffling through the flashcards you'd prepared in the hopes of getting at least some of the information into your overflowing, mushed brain.

At this point, your head must have been steaming, stuffed full with dates and people doing this because of that, and the historical development of words that you needed to explain other words– it went on and on, building up to a scarily high stack of cards and notes.

You just made yourself as comfortable as one could, perched on one of the steps, leaned against the wall, and feet crossed at the ankles and your back hunched over one of the cards, as one of the doors upstairs opened and closed, followed by footsteps and then, an amused huff.

"Why am I not surprised to find one of you doing yoga on the stairs?"

You snapped up, a sharp sting zipping through you at the sudden movement and you winced, glancing up to the top of the stairs.

"Yoga? Why the hell– sorry, shit.."

Then, your feelings for Thranduil had been simmering on high heat, a new development of the crush that slowly but surely grew out of control.

There was a duality tearing you in two different directions.

1. he was still Mister Oropherion, Legolas's father, a respectable man in society (after the first meeting you had frantically googled him, lying under the stuffy blanket in your dorm and tried to find out as much as you could through newspaper articles and zooming into pictures) and he radiated power, influence.

2. He was Thranduil as well, loving and caring not just to his son but to his friends as well, always making time after a long day at work to ask how you all were and if you needed anything. He drove you around whenever none of you could anymore, he laughed at your jokes and teased, smirking at you, watching you over the rim of his reading glasses…

How were you supposed to act around him if not like a total fool?

Thranduil raised a hand to his mouth and pressed his thumb against his lip which obviously twitched into an amused smile at your attempt to sort out this situation.

"That position you were in just now resembled one I did in my morning yoga course this morning," Thranduil explained as he made his way down, stopping two steps behind you.

"Yoga," you repeated quite horse at the mental image of this man twisting his long body– no no no this was not what should occupy your mind right now, most definitely not.

"However, I see I was incorrect," he continued and nodded the tip of his chin down at the flashcards. "Not as much fun as yoga."

You made a sound somewhere between a distressed wail and laughter. "No this is so much fun, actually. I think I'm having too much fun; nothing else I wanna do other than burn the reasoning for a man doing whatever into this nuggin'"

And while you were alright at it, you knocked your own palm against your forehead, hoping that it would delete some useless information out of there to make room.

It did nothing of the sorts, why would your head cooperate for once in your lifetime exactly when Thranduil was taking another step, right over you and sat down on your other side– one step lower.

The height difference allowed him to have an inch on you nonetheless, presenting you with a close-up of his jawline and the ivory curve of his neck and shoulder line that peeked under his cashmere sweater.

"C'mon," he said and held out his hand.

Your brain was short-circuiting, running hot trying to figure out if you should take it with your hand.

Thranduil chuckled and reached over, taking the stack of cards out of the tight grip of your hands that loosened at the brush of fingertips against skin.

He shuffled through them as well, looking over your handwriting and that alone felt so much more intimate than anything else he had ever done.

Here he was, sitting next to you, his eyes following the brush of your pen and you wondered if he saw the sharp slants of the t's and the dots on the i's and if there was a universe where he thought about his name in your handwriting.

He must have said something for suddenly he lifted his head and looked at you, still staring.

His eyes, the brightest of blue, wandered back and forth on your face, moving and examining and though you were scared he was figuring it out, putting puzzle pieces together that revealed a picture of your desire, you couldn't find it in you to look away.

You imagined kissing him. Press your mouth against those soft and pink lips and finally get it done and over with.

You blinked.

And drew back first.

Thranduil's head inclined the tiniest bit, a quizzing glance in his last glance before he cleared his throat and leaned back against the wall. The winter sun warmed your cheeks and the fuzzy socks on your feet knocked against the banister as you situated yourself again.

This was alright.

Not the right time for kissing your best friend's father but spending time with him filled that part in you that arched for the slightest ounce of attention that he could spare.

And if this was studying in their hallway, you would be alright.

"So… please explain to me what happened in the year–"

"Things don't seem to be in your favor," Thranduil remarked in the present as he examined the board.

Meanwhile, Gimli, who had momentarily slipped your mind in the haze of thoughts about him and the pleasant warmth coursing through your body from both him and the alcohol, burst into laughter.

"Well," you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look away from Thranduil and back at the table.

You didn't have to look at your friends to see the smirk on their faces.

At first, you had wanted to keep your secret to yourself, but damn Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and the evening after one of the harder exams that had loosened your tongue and pulled at your words bit by bit until all your insides poured out, just like the tears that came from finally being able to share this part of you.

Now you had to live with the consequences, the wagging eyebrows whenever Thranduil said something, the giggling as if you were ten and not in your twenties, and if that wasn't frustrating enough, the three of them conspired in a manner that they could disappear as soon as they had to chance to leave you and Thranduil alone.

You searched for your voice for a moment: "Who knows how the game will turn out? I've been clinging for what feels like an eternity to this money and the few rents I can collect. After all, these idiots ripped off street after the other."

"You brought this on yourself," Aragorn replied, rolling the dice.

You hadn't noticed Legolas' move at all, and from the grins on the faces of the three of them, dread gripped you as you anticipated something truly mischievous.

"What have you... Legolas!" you almost shrieked when you saw his rider on your street. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked aloud, glaring angrily into the round, only to have cheeky-looking faces flashing back at you.

Aragorn started to walk his figure, but you leaned far over the table, grabbing his wrist with one hand. "No.. no, that doesn't count! We were on a break!" you tried to complain but got no encouragement.

Nice friends you had chosen.

Not even Aragorn, who usually took no sides, now raised his shoulders in a quick shrug.

"I said I'm gonna continue," Legolas sang. You saw his lips continue to speak, but the words sounded muffled in your ears, "It's not our fault if you were distracted"

This pure audacity.

The disrespect.

The nerve of this blonde headed idiot!

You wanted to scream, you wanted to shake the mirk out of his face, but all you did was nail him to the chair with a pointed stare.

To no avail.

The guy was building up immunity to that scarily fast. In no time soon, you would need to find another way to shut him up.

The blood burned your face as you let yourself fall backward.

Not the smartest idea, because as soon as your back made contact with Thranduil's hand, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sound that didn't escape the man behind you.

The only thing you could think of to somehow save yourself from the situation was to cross your arms in front of your chest desperately.

Like a defiant child, you pushed your lower lip forward and jutted your chin up. "Alright, let's play unfair."

Behind you, Thranduil smirked.

His breath hit your cheeks hotly as he leaned down to your height all at once, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. "No matter how you play, dirty or not, destroy them for me, okay sweetheart?"

As if his proximity wasn't already the catalyst for the endorphin explosion and clouding your perception of everything else but him, the way the pet name 'sweetheart' rolled loosely over his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

Fuck, you were so fucked.

"Of course," you managed to bring out just barely.

Your voice had jumped up the scale so far it could have been a squeak. If you tried to think about why he'd unpacked that pet name out of the blue, your brain would probably have gone up in smoke.

Or you would have gone crazy.

Neither seemed like a really promising option and so you played it cool, throwing him a smile and then reaching for the dice.

You felt Thranduil straighten up again, heard the soft rustle of his fine suit pants, and forced yourself to concentrate on moving your figure along and placing it, thank heavens, to a prison visiting field.

"You're home early, Ada," mumbled Legolas, a handful of sour gummy worms between his teeth as his sticky fingers accepted the dice.

Behind you, Thranduil now propped himself up with both hands on your backrest, his tall figure casting a shadow on the board in front of you in the dim light of the kitchen, making your thoughts, as well as your breath, catch.

He was so much taller than you, his shadow engulfing yours completely.

"Would you believe me if I said I was hoping to see my son after a long week at work?" he asked, and for a moment you thought you felt his thumb brush your shoulder blades.

But the feathery touch disappeared so quickly that you weren't sure it had even been there.

"Ay, I'd rather have stayed at work then," interjected Gimli as he slid a few bills to Aragorn and exchanged them for a road, "Seeing Las shitfaced is not a pretty sight" He laughed, though Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Or seeing him in general," you interjected. Again all your bones vibrated at Thranduil's laughter.

Then a dull pain ran through you and, gasping, you looked under the table where Legolas was just pulling his leg back. "You little shit!" you gasped, but the blonde only stuck his tongue out at you.

"My Lady," Aragorn slid the dice to you, probably just in time before Legolas and you erupted into another discussion.

"I'll be in the living room in the meantime if anyone is looking for me. And please," Thranduil's tone made you tilt your head back in your neck so you could look up at him. He looked at one after the other of you "it would be very nice if I didn't run into another one of you half-naked in the morning," he spoke and his eyebrows shot up at Gimli who promptly toasted him with the bottle.

"Of course, Mr. O! In the future, I will not present Mother Nature's gifts until lunchtime."

Thranduil rolled his eyes with a grin and turned away from your group.

In the corner of your eye, you followed him, watching as he disappeared around the corner to the living room.

The room remained silent, music extracted, and as you looked to your friends, you heaved a sigh. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"I don't know what about," Gimli asked, looking to Legolas "Do you know what she might mean Las?"

Legolas shook his head, one shoulder raised "I haven't the faintest idea. Aragorn?"

"Can't think of anything."

Grateful and relieved, you smiled at your boys.

"It's not like it's a big deal that your so down bad for my dad," Legolas interjected as casually as if he wasn't throwing your biggest secret into the room.

A room that was adjacent to the living room.

Your blood ran hot and hold.

"Legolas!" you hissed and paid him back with a well-deserved kick under the table.

Your heart was pounding up to your throat, Thranduil was sitting right there, next door, and Legolas was running his mouth? What was he thinking?

"What?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

Unbothered, Legolas threw another gummy worm into his mouth, "C'mon, it's true."

"Oh my god, sure. He.. he shouldn't, no he can't know it though!"

To your surprise, Legolas giggled, "You can't make this up, guys," and Gimli joined in with laughter; even Aragorn hid his laughter behind a hand.

It seemed like you were out of the loop as if the joke had sailed right past you.

The only way the situation could have worsened was if Thranduil had emerged from the living room to share a laugh with the guys about whatever you had clearly overlooked.

Yeah, that would be the tip of the evening, Thranduil laughing in your face over the stupid crush you had.

"Oh, my dear friend," Aragorn leaned over to you, patting your thigh affectionately, "Someday, when you stop putting yourself in the way, you will finally see how the tides can turn."

Your eyebrows shot up questioningly, "Aragorn, I love you, you know that? But no more riddles, no more dallying. Let's just finish this game before I scream."

"Like we're the ones dilly-dallying around," you heard Legolas mutter into his bottle, but you didn't have the motivation to bring up the subject again, and with a roll of the dice you threw everyone else back into action as well.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge

[rhaegonthinker]

“do you see him when you look at me, sister? do you see our father?” aegon licks his chapped lips, looking into her bright violet eyes, wanting to see into her mind, know every waking that crosses her mind—of him. “tell me, rhaenyra, is that what you see? all you see?” aegon says a bit more desperately, gritting his teeth in pain, his flesh still burning, skin scorched. he wants to kill aemond for ruining him, taking what will to live he had left. he wants to take revenge on him like he wanted to on his sister for murdering his son, until he found out the truth. that she had no part in it. a son for a son is what she wanted, but when she found him—her half-brother—half burned, half broken like their father, she took pity on him, sparing his life, putting a price on aemond’s instead—the other brother who they both want revenge on now. something else in common they share besides their dragon blood.

rhaenyra looks at him with more softness in her eyes than she ever has and aegon wishes she would say something.

“tell me, nyra,” he rasps, tears falling down his face, stinging his burns. tell me you see me, your brother, your blood, your equal. tell me you see someone besides a replica of our father, half dead, half decayed. he clenches his hands into fists, his whole body going rigid and aegon wants milk of the poppy, needs it to dull the pain, the suffering of her silence.

because aegon wants her. his heart. his soul. his spirit. even his body, his belly rippling with a river of feverish desire. desire he hasn’t felt in many moons. not since it was torn away from him, like sunfyre.

but rhaenyra has awakened the dormant dragon within him. and it roars to life, demanding attention, her touch, her affection, her love. he’s about to beg her, say please, when her clear voice breaks through his all consuming thoughts.

”yes,” she answers honestly, truly, and aegon’s heart skips a beat, because at least it’s the truth, but she isn’t finished, giving him a smile. “but i see the good parts of him in you,” she runs her fingers over the side of his scarred cheek, caressing it lightly, wiping away his tears, careful of her sharp nails. aegon gulps, imagining her running them down his naked chest, where the flesh isn’t ruined, where she could inflict pleasured pain born of passion. “you have a good heart, little brother. i see it now.” rhaenyra places her right hand against his hammering heart, gentle as a mother’s kiss upon her babe’s brow. “some parts that are our father, your mother…even me.” rhaenyra leans in close, breathing deep and placing her left hand on the other side of his chest, leveraging her weight against him now. and it makes his breath hitch, wishing her warmth, her body would burden his always, for he’d always carry her with him—always will from now on.

“but, sweet brother,” the affectionate words roll off of rhaenyra’s tongue like an aphrodisiac and aegon’s already drunk off them, his lips barely brushing hers and he whines low in the back of his throat, wanting to taste the saccharine sweetness. “i see all of you, only you, my aegon—wholly.”

wholly. the word rings inside aegon like glorious bells awakening, tolling victoriously. because his sister, his queen, sees him for who he is, has always been, not a ghost haunting them both. not just parts and pieces of a whole.

aegon kisses her hungrily, tasting no bitterness or poison, but pure honey; initiating and igniting the war their mouths wage on one another’s, their tongues battling for dominance. a dance of dragons that both of them deem to win, until rhaenyra’s the first to bite his bottom lip, draw his blood, tasting his coppery crimson for herself.

“sister,” aegon hisses, his hands grabbing onto her for dear life, groaning when she sucks his lip desperately, for it’s not painful, but blissful to bleed for his sister. for every piece of himself attaches to her, every part, aches for her eternally.

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: Arcane

Verse: Work-Life Balance

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor

Tags: omegaverse, future-mpreg

Still not a prompt fill (I will start on them I swear!) but I’ve been meaning to write Viktor deciding he wants to have a baby with Jayce because of scientific curiosity for a while now. So I am glad this is written.

And yes I did have an image of them both open while I was writing this to compare which features I think Viktor would prefer from which one of them.

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

Viktor doesn’t often get to watch Jayce work.

There is nearly always something else that can be done while Jayce creates a new casing or frame-part. Either wiring to be soldiered or a formula to continue working through. So much work to be done and never enough hours in the day.

Not this time. They had hit a point where nothing further could be done until Jayce finished forging the guard that would separate the Hextech core from the external mechanisms. So Viktor had joined him at the Talis’ Forge despite having complete faith in Jayce’s ability to do it right.

Supervising just feels more productive than merely waiting. And Viktor does enjoy watching his partner work on the rare opportunities he can allow himself to.

He will not deny that Jayce is impressive to watch when he is at work.

His shirt has been abandoned from the heat giving Viktor full view of the muscles of his partner’s broad shoulders shining from sweat and golden from the light of the furnace. The alpha’s strength on full display with each hammer fall. The profile of his face defined by the shadows cast by his features.

From the moment he met him Viktor knew Jayce was impressive, both in body and mind.

The physical part was impossible for anyone to miss. Jayce was stunning to look at, the very definition of an ideal alpha. Strong and fit but not hulking. Broad shoulders that taper into a defined waist and warm arms that it is so very easy to imagine being carried in. He is fit and healthy and seems to naturally draw the eyes of all around him.

But it was Jayce’s mind that had actually made Viktor interested in him. The ideas in his notes were genius even if Viktor had seen where they could be improved. Jayce hadn’t disappointed after they started working together. His intelligence may not be the same as Viktor’s, but the ease he could conceive and create the exact tool to fix the problem before them was inspired. Working with him was working with Viktor’s true intellectual equal.

Viktor can hardly blame the fans that fawn over his partner when Jayce makes public appearances. Anyone would want Jayce as a mate. His genetics alone ample reason before adding in his gentle kindness and sweet awkwardness.

All of it traits his hypothetical children could inherit.

Although if Viktor seriously considers the possibility of Jayce and children, then, while Jayce has many traits that would be desirable to see passed down, he is not perfect.

While Jayce’s hands are very skilled at what they do they lack the fineness and dexterity of Viktor’s own. So a child would do well to inherit from Viktor instead in that regard.

Even with his strong square jaw Jayce’s brow and eyebrows always seem to overpower his face. It would be good for a child to have one more like Viktor’s – less prominent and with a lower hairline to soften it.

While Viktor appreciates Jayce’s intelligence far more than the average person he will admit his bias in preferring that his own would be passed onto any child of theirs.

Then there are the things that matter less which way they go. Jayce’s skin may seem to glow under the golden light of his forge or the sun but Viktor’s hardly blemishes apart from a mole here or there. They both have good eyesight and neither possess a particularly outstanding eye colour. The texture of both their hairs is equal in strengths even if different.

Together they could make a glorious child.

Viktor would be remiss not to consider how difficult a pregnancy would be for him before letting his mind follow the thought any further. His body is deteriorating, he knows, and the weight of a baby on his spine would do it no favors.

Hextech hadn’t been easy either though. And it had been worth all the effort and pain and risk it took to create.

He would need only do it once to test his hypothesis.

“What are you thinking about Vik?” Jayce asks, taking off the wielding goggles as he turns around. The rest of his gear already put aside.

“I think I want a baby.”

Jayce stumbles, knocking into the table next to him. Catching himself to lean against it. The muscles in his arm bulging from the force he’s pushing down on it with.

“What?” he asks, free hand gesturing emptily. “Like generally or-“

“No, with you.” Viktor cannot say he ever thought about having a child before. His work always far too important. The idea of having one with someone else is not at all appealing. But with Jayce-

They created Hextech together as partners. The kind of child they could make together actually feels exciting in the way the early days of their partnership did. An unexplored potential that Vitktor wants to see reached.

“Right,” Jayce says, glancing at Viktor then up at the ceiling and then the floor in rapid succession. His hand comes to scratch behind his ear as he pushing himself off the table to stand fully upright. “Like now?”

“Well conception rarely is successful on the first try,” Viktor says, reaching for his cane as he stands up and walks over to Jayce. More to pace as he explains the process than anything. “And a pregnancy takes 40 weeks if it goes to full-term. So in about a year. If we start trying now.”

It is better they do it sooner than later if they are going to. How long before the deterioration of Viktor’s body makes him unable to carry a pregnancy an unknown.

“You’re serious,” Jayce says with a weak laugh.

“Of course. I would not joke about something like that.” It would be cruel to. “So do you want to or not?”

“Yes! I mean, if you want. Are you sure? It’s- You’ll- Us- A baby-“ Jayce stutters adorably. Viktor hopes their child inherits Jayce’s earnestness. “Do you want to start trying now?”

Viktor gives a hum of contemplation.

“We can install that first,” he decides, pointing to the guard that should be nearly done cooling. “But tonight, yes. If that works for you.”

“I don’t have any other plans,” Jayce jokes awkwardly and Viktor notes Jayce’s smile as another thing he hopes they inherit.

[hmar177]

DALLAS WINSTON ONE SHOT <3

******SMUTTTTTTTYYYYY******

I'm not sure when I stopped loving Jack, but I know it crept out of the subconscious of my mind the second I saw that damn photo. I know I shouldn't feel this way, Jack is perfect. He comes from a good family, he's sweet and charming, he gets along with my friends and brings my mom flowers everytime he comes over. He was everything I could have dreamed for myself. He is who I should want. But that damn picture of Dallas Winston.

I wish he had just stayed on his side like he was supposed to.

My predicament started a few months ago when I was walking home from school. I had to stay late after my final class to run over a few plans with the committee for the dance coming up. It was my first dance that I was fully running myself and I was over the moon about it. I loved planning big events like this. My brain worked meticulously over every detail and it was so satisfying watching it all come together.

After I had finished my meeting with Sally and Davis, I found myself taking my normal walk home. It was a beautiful day out. The sun was just low enough in the sky to cast a gentle, warm glow on my face, the leaves left a quiet hum in my ears, and I found myself inhaling the glorious scent of the freshly landscaped houses as if the scent would live forever in my lungs if I breathed deep enough.

As I rounded the last corner before my street, I heard loud screeching coming from behind me. A car full of what seemed to be 4 or 5 rowdy boys came barreling down the street. Blasting loud rock music and howling like a pack of wolves, the boys came up fast. I stopped in place and watched as they came closer. They slowed up ever so slightly as they passed me, giving me a good chance to glance into the vehicle. I didn't recognize them, but I did recognize the driver. Dallas Winston.

With his sunglasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose and a cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth, he held my eyes as he cruised by. I can't tell if I imagined it or not, but I thought I caught a hint of a smirk on his face before he punched the accelerator once more and took off before I could even register the entire exchange. It almost felt like I had just hallucinated that whole sequence.

What were a bunch of greasers doing over here on the west side? Not that I ever had anything against them, I just figured they would want to stay clear of a bunch of privileged, snotty folks who are constantly after their demise.

I had never met Dallas before, but I knew bits and pieces about him. Grew up with a rough homelife, dropped out of school, and even wound up in prison for a while. Everyone in this town saw Dallas and all the greasers as less than. I saw them as kids who just had shit luck when it came to the parents department.

I knew some greasers. There were quite a few in my grade, like Sodapop Curtis. He was one of the sweetest kids I ever met. Had a heart of gold, and a boatload of love for some girl Sandy he always seemed to mention. Soda dropped out a few months ago though after his parents both died tragically in a car accident. Another example of kids with shit luck and no ones around this town to sympathize for them.

Later that night, I found myself sitting at my desk trying to work on my short story. I was assigned by my English teacher to write a short story loosely based on a truly exciting and invigorating time in my life that made me feel alive. The only problem was I have never had an experience in my life that could remotely be described as such.

Everyday, I wake up, go to school, go to event committee meetings, or to my internship at the local newspaper, The Tulsa Chronicles. After all that, I either come home and do homework, or just hangout at the drive in with my friends and my boyfriend Jack. Nothing about my routine is special or interesting. It never changes and I don't see it altering anytime soon. In a town with so little to do, it is quite the tall order to ask us to find something interesting to write about.

I want to be a writer some day, so when I can't complete a simple short story for school, it horrifies me that I may be chasing after a hopeless dream. I intern at the Tulsa Chronicles in hope of it being a good addition to my college applications, but for now I am just helping with the printing and shipping of the papers. One of the editors told me if I had a writing piece that I was proud of, I could pass it along to them and they could give it a read and see if there were any opportunities for me to write something for the paper soon. I was hoping this short story could be that piece that I was proud of, but that is looking like a pipe dream now.

After staring at my blank paper for what feels like hours, I decide tonight is not the night that I am going to find any inspiration, so I turn out the lights and climb into bed. Maybe my dreams will inspire me. Maybe I'll dream of those greasers, flying through neighborhoods and screaming, sounding like they are high on the freedom that life has to offer. I want a taste of what they are having.

The next day is the same as all the other ones, not to anyone's surprise. I woke up, went to school, and made my way over to the Tulsa Chronicles. When I walked in, the newsroom was buzzing much more than normal. In a town as boring as Tulsa, there is not a ton of news to report, so when the newsroom was like this, something major must have happened.

“Rose, get to the printer stat. We need to start loading up these boxes now!” my boss Susan yelled from across the room.

“On it!” I let her know.

As I made my way to the printer, pages were flying out faster than I have ever seen before. This must be a big story if they have the printers working this hard.

Page after page, I watched them stack into a nice pile until the cover page finally flew out.

It read, “Delinquent youths turn heroes after daring fire rescue”

Right next to the title, I saw their faces, Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Caid, and Dallas Winston.

Pony and Johnny's pictures didn't shock me. Cherry Valance told me a few days ago how sweet and kind they had been to her at the drive in and they always seemed like kind approachable kids. But cherry had also mentioned that Pony and Johnny had protected her from, Dallas Winston

Dallas had always seemed so cold and foreboding. Even his smirk from yesterday's drive by left a chill down my spine. It wasnt that I was afraid of him, but Dallas Winston wasn't someone you just assumed you could become fast friends with. You had to earn his loyalty to be seen with him. His picture being tagged alongside this story seemed extremely out of character. Dallas had his family of greasers and he had himself. There wasn't much else he was looking after. Especially not strangers in some random church fire.

I picked up the front page and looked at it very closely. Part of me didn't want to assume like the rest of this town that this was a mistake, but a bigger part of me couldn't help but think this wasn't true. Dallas Winston saving children he didn't know? Dallas didn't walk by a child in the street without trying to terrify them in some way. Something isn't adding up. Were we all utterly wrong about him? I couldn't help but just stare at his picture, trying to see him run into that burning church. Coming out covered in ash, carrying a couple kids in his arms and placing them down gently before rushing back inside to save more. I felt a twinge in my chest. Something I haven't felt before.

“Rose! Quit daydreaming and pack up those papers. The delivery service will be here in 20 to take those boxes out. They better be filled!” Susan yelled.

“Yes of course.” I replied, suddenly taken out of my temporary, and odd trance.

As I loaded each paper into the boxes, my eyes lingered a little too long on Dallas’s face as each paper piled onto the next. After what must have been hundreds of papers, I “accidentally” misplaced one in my bag sitting next to me. I don't know why I took it. I would surely be getting one of these papers delivered to my house within the next day or so, but part of me wanted to just have this for me. I also didn't want to explain to my dad why I needed his morning paper, the one I had helped package and ship out and have had access to for over a day.

After loading the last box and as a sudden calmness came over the newsroom, it was finally time to head home. I grabbed my bag, making sure the paper was tucked in enough so that it wouldn't be seen, said goodnight to the staff, and made my way out.

As I walked out of the building, I looked up to see Jack leaned up against his shiny new sports car that his parents just bought him as a good job for making the basketball team present. It sounds ridiculous and it is ridiculous. When you come from money like Jack's family, there are very few occasions that don't involve an illustrious gift such as the sports car he now leans against.

I say all this with complete understanding that I come from a family very similar to Jacks. I am privileged and I know that, but I don't see that as a reason to act any differently towards others. Why should the number that's on my fathers paychecks determine whether I am a better person than others? It doesn't. But people like Jack feel that it does. But Jack makes me smile, and my mother hasn't shut up about those lilies he brought her this past weekend when he was over for dinner. Who could hate Jack, right?

“Hey there honey. How was the journalism world today?” Jack says with a smile as he opens the passenger side door for me to get in. Jack picks me up whenever he's in the area and he knows I'm here. It's very sweet of him. Another reason to love him, right?

“Busy. There was a big story today so there were a lot more papers to print and ship.” I told him.

“Really! What was the story?” He asked.

I hesitated for a second.

“Oh I don't remember. I didn't really get a chance to read it. Too busy getting them into boxes.” I explained. I don't know why I lied. I think a part of me felt guilty about the things I felt and thought as I looked at Dallas’s picture the past few hours and another part of me wanted to keep Dallas to myself for a bit longer because by morning everyone would be talking about him. More people would be picturing him as this grand hero, and I still wanted to be the only one who saw him that way.

The rest of the ride, we sat in comfortable silence. That was the best way to describe me and Jack's relationship. Comfortable. Our parents set us up freshman year of highschool and we fell into the narrative with ease. He was cute and popular. It made sense why I should want him, so I convinced myself I did. And it worked for a while. A long while now. But as we come towards the midway point of Junior year, I'm not too sure how much longer I can convince myself that Jack is what I want. But what would be my reason for leaving him? He was too nice to my parents? He made one too many jokes that made all my friends laugh? He was too popular? Too athletic? On paper he was perfect. Trying to tell anyone that my time with Jack was coming to an end would make me sound like the biggest fool. So I just stayed. There was no reason to leave, even though I wanted there to be so badly.

We pulled up to the front of my house and he came around and opened my door. I thanked him and looked up to my house. The big, beautiful white home sat on top of the hill at the top of my street with a huge porch that wrapped around the whole house, and perfectly painted blue shutters. It was truly out of a magazine and I was eternally grateful for being able to be raised in a home as beautiful as this one. The dining room light shined bright and I knew my parents were in there waiting for me to arrive so we could have dinner as a family. Jack took my hand and walked me to the door. My mother opened it as we took the final step onto the porch.

“Jack!’ My mother said, “How kind of you to bring Rose home. Won't you come in and join us for dinner.”

A pit immediately formed in my stomach.

“I'd love-” Jack started before I cut him off.

“I'm actually not feeling very well so I think I am just gonna go to bed.” I quickly sputtered out. Facing Jack I said, “Maybe another night.”

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing up the stairs and straight into my room before anyone else could say anything. That was definitely rude of me, but the thought of having to sit next to Jack for the next hour, knowing I smuggled home a paper with the only intention of staring at the man on the cover made me extremely nauseous. I may not feel for Jack the way I used to, but I wouldn't be disrespectful, and if I was gonna be disrespectful, I wasn't gonna allow him to eat dinner with me and my family as if everything was fine and dandy.

I sat down on my bed and immediately removed the paper from my bag. It wasn't often that I had strange outbursts such as the one I just had downstairs, so I knew my parents would leave me be for a while. I took the paper, and got comfortable. Reading the entire article front and back and learning that what the title states was indeed true, I took the cover and discarded the rest of the pages. Holding Dallas’s picture up, I thought about the words in the article and how they described the man I was looking at. Bold. Courageous. Brave. Not words I would initially think of when I heard the name Dallas Winston.

His face held hard lines in his jaw and forehead. He had strong dark features and striking eyes. He was beautiful in a rugged and tired way. A way that you never see here in the west side neighborhoods. I was mesmerized by his stern stare. I wanted to know everything about him and I wanted to know it now. I wanted to spend a day with him and learn what it took to earn his trust. To earn a glance from those haunting eyes. The way he looked at me as he rode past me in his car yesterday felt like a shot of espresso. It jolted something awake inside of me. I needed another hit. I craved it.

Before I could comprehend what I was doing, my body was up and at my desk. I was opening my drawer and pulling out a pair of scissors. I slowly and carefully cut around his face making sure not to accidentally trim anything important off, because truthfully it was all important. He was important and I needed to know why.

I held the small picture of Dallas Winston between my fingers, holding as close to the edge as possible, with fear I might smudge it, and I grabbed a piece of tape. Walking over to my bed, I taped the picture on my wall right next to where my head lays when I sleep. I could hide it during the day behind my pillows when I made my bed. It was just for me. He was my new interest. He was my excitement that I had been looking for, I just had to find a way to make these little daydreams something real. As I crawled into bed with the image of dark raven eyes flashing through my mind, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, Jack, my parents, and Tulsa all feeling like a distant memory rather than my reality.

It could have been 3 hours or 3 minutes, but before I knew it, I was woken up by the sound of my desk lamp falling to the ground and a soft breeze coming from my window that I was sure was closed when I got into bed. I shot up like an arrow and reached for the lamp on my bedside table, flicking it on as fast as I could. As the light flooded the room, I was immediately met with the eyes I saw as I lulled myself to sleep. I had to be imagining him right? Dallas Winston stood right there in the middle of my bedroom, standing at least 6 foot 2, drowning in his leather jacket, with his signature blue jeans, and a black eye that was shining through even in the dim lighting.

“Dallas?” I began before he ran over to my bed and clasped his hand around my mouth and the other one slid behind my head keeping me quiet and still.

Slowly he shook his head as if to tell me, now is not a time for talking. I assumed he was scared my parents would hear him, which I am now realizing never even crossed my mind. My parents would lose their minds if they strolled into my room right now to find a greaser, Dallas Winston worst of all, standing in my bedroom at, I flashed my eyes to my clock, 2am. But my parents never even entered my head, nothing really entered my head. Not fear, not my parents, not jack. All I could think about was that incredible shot of adrenaline I felt when I saw him, and coming up with a plan to make him stay as long as possible so I didn't have to stop this feeling.

All of a sudden I heard sirens, and red and blue lights flash past the house at a high speed. I looked up at Dallas who was looking out the window to make sure the coast was clear. His hands were still firmly placed around my head. I studied his face while he wasn't paying attention to me, just as I was doing last night. But this was ten times better. The picture didn't do him justice. He was gorgeous. A light sheen of sweat coated his forehead from running I assumed, and his hair drooped gently in front of his eyes, giving him a rugged elvis look. I could stare at him for hours and not get bored for a second.

Once he saw that he was in the clear, he slowly brought his attention back to me. He studied my face for a second, a small shimmer of something in his eyes but I don't know what it was. After a moment he brought his eyes around my room, studying the pictures and posters on my walls that I'm sure I'll be embarrassed about later, to the books on my nightstand, and with another flick of his gaze, he was locked in on something behind me. He stared long and hard and I couldn't think of what it could be. He slowly came inclose, his lips right next to my ear.

“Well I'll be damned. Looks like I have a fan.” He whispered, his warm breath hitting my neck.

My eyes widened, the picture. Dallas WInston was looking at the picture of him I cut out and taped next to my bed.

“Now tell me darling, if I remove my hands, can you stay quiet and not let anyone know I am here? Because I do have a few questions about this I'd like to ask.” He said quietly with a shit eating grin on his face, so good, that it could seduce the Queen of England.

I slowly nod. Why am I not terrified right now? A known felon is standing in my room right now in the middle of the night. He snuck in my window in an attempt to run from the cops. I am harboring a criminal right now as we speak and all I can think about is how I can end things with Jack so that this lasts forever.

“Good Girl.” He says softly, then slowly takes his hands off my mouth, immediately missing the feel of his touch. God I was so fucked.

He pulled over my desk chair and took a seat right in front of me, our knees almost touching. He held the picture between his fingers looking at it, then up to me.

“So tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing hanging up pictures of bad Dallas Winston on her pretty pink bedroom walls?” He asks.

I think I stopped breathing. What was I supposed to say? There was no real explanation for why I hung up the picture other than I was chasing a feeling I couldn't even name. I stared blankly trying to say anything, trying to think of something to say that would make him as interested in me as I was in him.

“Well?” He pushed after I sat there stunned for I don't even know how long.

“Uhh, I, Uh….. I think I want to feel what you feel.” I said. Shit. That didn't even make any sense. He for sure thought I was crazy. He looked at me puzzled.

“Honey, the last thing you want is to feel what I feel.” He gave a small laugh that created small needles in the back of my throat and moved to get up.

“I want to feel alive. I want to be reckless and have fun. You have fun, don't you?” I said quickly, anything coming out of my mouth was just a hidden plea for him to stay.

He stopped in his tracks, and looked back over to me. The moon casting a soft glow on his hard features. The shimmer in his eyes came back for a second. He slowly sat back down.

“Oh, I have fun. But the kind of fun I have would give a soc like you nightmares.” He said with venom on his tongue. I couldn't tell if he was threatening me or daring me to push him more.

“Show me.” I whispered. Dally smirked at me pondering my dare for a split second, before he slid his switchblade knife out of his pocket and softly dragged the blade from my fingertips, up my arm, and across my collar bone. Every hair on my body stood straight up. My breath hitched ever so slightly and he moved the blade to my neck and held it there.

Part of me was truly scared, and another part of me felt that there was something a bit performative too. Dallas Winston wasn't going to hurt me. I knew that for a fact. He leaned in close, taking a strand of my hair in his other hand, and brought his lips to my ear.

“Are you having fun yet?” He said. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the smirk in his words.

I backed away so I could meet his eyes. A fire raged behind them. I would give anything to look inside his brain, even for just a moment. I smiled at him and I could see the excitement grow. I don't know why, but I liked what was happening. I liked the uncertainty of what he was going to say and do, and I liked that I trusted him for no reason at all.

“I think I like you more than I should.” I say. I don't know why I said that. I wasn't even embarrassed that I did. It was like being close to him unlocked a new version of myself that I didn't know existed. A version of myself that had confidence and a desire to push the limits. I felt alive.

“Do you like me more than your boyfriend?” He grinned.

“Do you want me to?” I challenged. He grinned and his gaze flicked down to my lips for a moment before it returned to my eyes. The knife at my throat is all but forgotten.

“Let's make a deal. If I can kiss better than a soc, you have to go out with me.” He said.

“And if you can't?” I said, barely a whisper.

“Oh honey, there are very few things I can't do.” He said leaning in and attaching his lips to mine. I felt the knife hit the bed next to me as I melted into his kiss and his hands wrapping around my face.

It was soft and slow for all but a moment, before I knew it he was laying me down on the bed and forcing his tongue into my mouth. I guess it wasn't forcing it, more like me waiting for it and craving it.

My hands roamed his body, feeling his toned muscles through his thin black tee shirt. I slid his leather jacket off, as his hands found their way under my shirt. He planted his hand on my stomach and pushed me down to the mattress keeping me in place. A breeze gently floated in from the window, and it made me hyper aware of the slickness that was now coating my thighs.

His mouth moved to my cheek and then to my neck. I clasp one of my hands over my mouth to muffle my moans. He placed his thigh between my legs allowing me to move my hips to get some relief.

God what was I doing? How did it come to me grinding on Dallas Winston in my bed at 2 in the morning. I couldn't bring myself to stop though. It was all too much. Too good.

“How am I doing sweetheart?” He said in my ear before he brought his face back up to look me in the eyes. “I think the tears in your eyes are telling me that I'm gonna see you tomorrow night.”

I moaned into his shoulder, as I felt his hand trail down my abdomen and underneath my waistband. He teased there for a moment, smirking down at me waiting for me to stop him, but there was no way in hell I wanted this to ever end. I gave him a quick nod before he cupped me over my underwear. He quickly covered my mouth with his own as he knew I was about to moan. He chuckled softly into the kiss.

“My God Dallas. Oh my god” I moaned into his mouth.

“I am a God, aren't I?” He growled before sliding his fingers underneath my underwear and inside of me. The pleasure was so overwhelming, that I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out. He groaned from the pain, but I knew he liked it.

As his fingers pumped in and out of me, he slowly started to grind himself into my hip. He was hard. I felt him poking through his tight jeans, begging to be let out.

“Dallas. I want you.” I begged. I need more of him. I need him closer.

He removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty. I looked up at him and he immediately placed his fingers into his mouth, sucking me off of them. I let out a moan. He was trailing kisses down my chest, then my stomach, never taking his eyes off of me.

“I know baby, I know. Not yet though.” He assured me. “I just need a little taste first.”

He grabbed the waistband of my shorts and my underwear and slowly pulled them down, never stopping his trail of kisses that now led down my leg.

“So beautiful.” He whispered to himself as he was now eye level with my core. “Spread your legs for me baby.” I do what I'm told. “That's it. Good Girl. Now lay back and let me worship you.”

Dallas wastes absolutely no time diving right in and taking all of me into his mouth. He licks from top to bottom and back again before taking my clit into his mouth and sucking. “So sweet.” He moans into me.

I have to grab the pillow on my bed and cover my face because the scream I almost let out would have surely woken up the entire neighborhood. Dallas’s name on the tip of my tongue. The name about to escape with every moan that shoots through me, which would not only let the town know I was in the middle of the most erotic moment of my life, but also it was Dallas Winston that was buried between my legs.

I feel one of Dallas’s hands remove from my thigh and I look down to see what he was doing. I look down to see Dallas’s mouth still attached to my clit, but his eyes boring into mine with the most seductive look I have ever seen in my life. Without ever looking away from me, Dallas removes his mouth, now just an inch away from me, and takes a little gold foil packet out of his pocket and takes it straight to his mouth. He rips the foil open with his teeth and slides the condom out.

He stands up. His 6 foot 2, god-like stance, looming over me, made me feel so small and helpless on my bed. God, I wish I could be a fly on the wall right now, wanting to see what I might look like. My shirt pushed up, shorts and underwear thrown about the room somewhere, My hair probably a mess, and tears staining my face as Dallas Winston stands over me, slowly unbuckling his belt.

He smirks down at me and he pulls his pants and boxers down, revealing his erection and my god it was big. I honestly didn't know if it was gonna fit inside of me. Right on cue, as if he could read my mind, Dallas says, “Don't be scared darling, you can handle it.”

He goes to put on the condom, but I sit up quickly, grabbing his hand, stopping him. “Can I do it?” I ask him. He looks down at me with hooded eyes and a smirk that could kill.

“Fuck yeah you can.” he says in a breathy tone as he hands me the condom. I take the condom out of his hand and hesitantly grab his dick. A low grumble comes from his throat as I give it a little pump before rolling on the condom.

The second it's on, he pushes me on my back, and comes down on top of me. He starts to position himself at my entrance and looks me in the eyes. “Baby, as much as I want this to last forever, I'm not gonna last very long.” He leans in kissing me hard and chuckles against my lips and I smile at his words. Yeah, me neither.

I take a deep breath and he thrusts inside of me. I clasp my arms around his neck and hug him as close to me as possible. He is big and it hurts so good. I bite into his shoulder again trying to distract myself from the pain, but also from the fact that my orgasm is seconds away and he just got inside of me.

He whimpers in my ear as I kiss his neck profusely. He finds a steady pace that has me borderline drooling. “God Dallas, don't stop. It feels so good.” I barely get out because I can barely catch my breath. I shoot one of my hands out and feel something sharp hit my finger. I look down to see Dallas’s knife still sitting next to us on the bed. It must have nicked my finger. Before I can register what's happened, Dallas takes my bloodied finger and sucks it into his mouth while holding my gaze. His eyes were hooded, and looking drunk off sex.

“Come for me baby. Come on. I know you're there. Show me how good I make you feel.” He begs me. Between his words, and my finger in his mouth, I'm there in a second. Burying my face into his neck, my orgasm rips through me harder than it ever has before. My nails digging into his bicep and a drip of sweat going down my forehead. Dallas still thrusts into me hard and fast for a moment more before he takes my lips into his and I feel his dick twitch as he spills into the condom.

He lays on top of me, breathing heavily in my ear for what feels like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. He slowly removed himself from me, then pushed up so he was hovering over me again. He smiled down at me as I grabbed his face with my hands, pulling him down to kiss me. His kiss was so gentle, the word love flew through my head, but it was only a fraction of a thought.

I brushed my finger over his cheek bone, before noticing my finger was still bleeding. I brought it to my face, inspecting the cut. It wasn't deep at all. Just a knick. Dallas took my finger to his lips and planted a soft kiss to the cut. Adab of blood coating his lip, only for a second before he licked it off.

“What time are you free tomorrow?” He asks as he nuzzles his face into my neck, no doubt leaving more hickeys.

“Maybe around 7?” I told him. “I just have to go break up with Jack, and then I'm all yours.” I giggled lightly. He came back up and looked at me with the most serious expression I saw all night.

“All mine.” He smiled.

***hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!!! DALLAS WINSTON I LOVE YOU***

[lexirosewrites]

Slick Sunday ask <3

I'm gonna be honest with you, I've only read Burn once, and halfway through (I think I got embarrassed when I realized accidental pregnancy was going to be a thing), but I decided to finally (bc it was always the plan) to read it again.

I'm in chapter 4, nothing has happened yet, but I remember y'all mentioning a fight, and I was thinking about "Off the races" you know, the song.

And THEN I thought what if. Burn Au, where after their big fight Steddie does not reconcile for a good stretch of time, enough that Steve gets bitter and makes his own illegal group(gang????!).

Sure, he's just an Omega, but he's full of spite and he's learned a thing or two from his time with Da— with Eddie.

And so he starts picking up other abandoned omegas, runaway kids, homeless people, you name it, they're struggling, Steve is picking them up.

He treats them like people, like family and they give him undying loyalty in exchange. And sure Steve isn't entirely the brains of the operation, but he still controls everything.

I also think about his gang (since they're mostly women and omegas) heavily relying on honey traps at the beginning of their operation, so Steve sleeps around, pretending to be the person he was when he arrived to the Munson state for a bit and Alphas fall to his feet.

I imagine Eddie eventually finds out about this (when the noise Steve makes can be heard everywhere) and he's forced to confront it. His bunny became a wild cat.

And idk idk, I'm missing a lot of context from the actual Burn story, but I got very inspired. So I might come back to this when I finish reading it all.

when i was originally planning the ending to burn (and the way things go after the fight), there was a time when steve was more bitter and angry, rather than sad and distraught.

i think in another world, he could’ve taken what he learned and started something to tear down eddie’s operations. he probably would’ve even gotten robin to help him tbh, but then there would’ve been the matter of chrissy. suffice to say it would be glorious for an omega to make an alpha eat his words!😌

[theminecraftbee]

do you regret it?

Martyn huffs and turns over. He glances at his wrist. Forty minutes left, and it feels good.

do you regret it?

The first thing he’d done after he realized he still had time was bury his axe. The second thing is pillar all the way up to the top of the sky net. Sitting on the edge of it, well, it’s a little risky, but it’s not like there’s anyone to push him off of it anymore. If he’d gone and lost all his extra time by falling off of a ladder or something, though, he hopes someone would mock him for it. That’d be worth mocking, right there.

do you regret it?

He harvests all the wheat that was left behind. He thumbs his nose at the sky as he does; he vaguely hears ghosts complaining. Suckers. His wheat now. He can have all the bread in the world. Hell, all the cake, even—if he heads back down and gets a cow he can make himself a proper feast. Nothing like the party he’d rigged to blow.

Doesn’t really feel like climbing down, though. If he’s gonna live out his glorious, glorious extra time, he’s going to do it in the luxury of the sky.

do you regret it?

He watches the sun set. The horizon is so far away from here. It glitters across the scars of water and the crooked towers. Gods, if the server isn’t ugly, though. Ugly as sin. At some point, people had stopped even really bothering to make it anything else.

He’d say it’s a pity, but. He remembers when people used to bother making things pretty. He remembers it well. Hah. Imagine doing that.

Imagine making a place pretty enough to be a home when you know it’s just going to be torn away from you entirely in the end.

do you regret it?

“Shut up,” he says.

do you regret it?

“Why would I regret it?” Martyn says incredulously. “You know, if you want a tragedy out of me, you aren’t going to get it. No one ever told me betrayal feels this good.” He spreads his hands. “Whole server to myself, now, until my clock finishes running down. I think I’ll build myself an actual base. Finally have time for that, don’t I?”

do you regret it?

“Morons, the lot of you,” Martyn says, huffing. “You’ll make up the answer you want to that question on your own regardless of what I say.”

do you regret it?

Martyn ignores it. “Actually, screw you. I’m not building a base, I’m building a dick. Yeah, take that in your family-friendly death games. Haha. No one can stop me now.”

And suddenly, it is completely silent. No Watchers, no ghosts, no Listeners, no haunting refrain. It is Martyn, and it is the cobblestone dick he’d started building, and it is the sunset, and it is the ticking clock.

No one can stop him now at all.

He gets partway through before stopping. It doesn’t even really look appropriately crude. He looks over the edge. It would be fast. It would take him to where he can properly gloat about his victory.

But he has to savor it first.

The silence rings in his ears. “Survival base,” he says. “I’m going to build it in a tree.”

No response.

…good. They’ve gone away. It’s for the best.

He starts work on the treehouse and he’s only halfway through when the clock stops ticking and he can’t breathe anymore and he drowns on dry land.

[bumblekastclips]

KYLE CROUSE: Alright, we got one last question. It’s from JediPony. [chuckles] Love that name, I don’t know why. It makes me laugh. [reading question] “How would you write an 06 adaptation in Sonic X?” Here’s the question, would you write the 06 adaptation in Sonic X the show, or Sonic X the comic?

IAN FLYNN: [laughs] KYLE: It’s very— two very different things. IAN:Very different things. I don’t know, if we’re gonna be true to the source material, then Elise doesn’t really have a role, and Chris is the one who has the Flames of Disaster sealed inside him. KYLE: [laughing] Oh no! Oh! IAN: “Chris, whatever you do, you can’t cry!” [as Chris, weepily] “But why?!” [Iblis roar] KYLE: It’s all he does! [laughs] No! IAN: Oh, man, now I’m imagining Mephiles with, like, that really bad early 2000s CG effect. All these awful filters flyin’ around. KYLE: Oh, God, no! [laughing] This would be awful. IAN: You’d have, like, the budget episodes where Soleanna and New City are just, like, these flat, grey urban textures that have like, no depth, but then you get to the final episode where they’re doing the Super fight against Solaris, and the animation bump goes through the roof, and it’s glorious. And you forgive the last 26 episodes of your life that you’ve wasted watching it so far. KYLE: Mhm. IAN: [choking the words out through high pitched, wheezing laughter] This means Chris is the one that kisses Sonic back to life! [fit of maniacal laughter] KYLE: [frantic, horrified laughter] No! No! No! No! Ian, no! Ian! No! IAN: [prolonged cackling laughter] KYLE: The worst timeline! Oh, no! IAN: Oh, and Eggman has to be as close as they can get him to photorealistic Eggman in the Sonic X style. KYLE: No! IAN: Which does not work at all! KYLE: No, no, no! No! This is not going on the thumbnail! No! IAN: [wheezing laugh] KYLE: No, do not put this on the thumbnail! [laughing] IAN: Oh, my goodness, just imagine the art errors for Silver’s head alone… KYLE: Oh… no… oh, no… at least Dan Green could still be the voice of Mephiles. IAN: Oh, yeah, that’d be fantastic. [microphone glitches] That’s the only reason to do this. KYLE: That would be— yeah. Oh… IAN: Oh, would they try to hand-animate Omega? Or would he be like, early 2000s CG? KYLE: Just crappy CG, no! IAN: That you just composite into each shot… oh, man, it’d be awful! KYLE: [pained sound not unlike he is receiving a fully conscious appendectomy] Oh! IAN: Wait! [microphone glitches again] They did the weird thing with Sonic and Shadow’s spines when they would turn their heads. What would Silver look like?! KYLE: [resigned groan] IAN: Would it just be like, one giant spine, depending on the angle? [bursts into laughter] KYLE: [groans as if he is dying] Ian… what are you doing… why are you— IAN: [microphone glitches again as if resisting] The Iblis monsters would have the terrible CG effects, too! KYLE: Why am— why am I the reasonable one!

IAN: [laughs] KYLE: Why am I the one who’s being… [gives up on finishing this sentence] IAN: Forget the comic, the comic can’t hold a candle to this idea! KYLE: Oh, no… IAN: [in awe] What a glorious trainwreck! KYLE: What’s even funnier is that your mic is trying to stop you. IAN: [cackles] KYLE: It’s not working. [laughs] So cursed! IAN: The whole thing would be so awful… KYLE: Yeah? IAN: But then there would be, like, this incredibly well-written and poignant subplot about Elise dealing with her emotional trauma, and how Soleanna as a country even works. And it’s like, maybe an episode, maybe two that really gets into it and fleshes out this world in a meaningful and robust manner. KYLE: [chuckles] Yeah. IAN: And that’s it. That’s like— that and Dan Green are the only redeeming things out of this season. KYLE: [sigh, reading chat] Ian, in the chat… IAN: Yeah. KYLE: In the Bumblekast Discord server, open it up. There’s a little piece of art there. Someone has, uh, sketched Silver. [chuckles] IAN: [seeing it, delighted, evil] Yes! KYLE: [laughing] IAN: Cursed Toucan Sam! KYLE: [cackles] Oh no! Why do you…? No! Awful! Toucan— IAN: [as Silver] “Just follow my nose, wherever it goes!” KYLE: [horrified, amused] Toucan Silver! No! [emits the world’s most drawn-out, pained cry of defeat] IAN: Psycho-beak-nesis! KYLE: [laughing] Bumblekast was a mistake! IAN: [laughs] It was, but at least we’re over with it for today. KYLE: [laughing] Oh… I guess so.[outro music fades in]

EPISODE THUMBNAIL by the incredible @nintendoni-art

—— TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: Please remember that nothing that is said on BumbleKast is canon! It’s just some guys and their opinions occasionally spitballing ideas. If you don’t like an answer, you don’t have to take it as Word of God or anything like that. It’s all just for fun!

[justagalwhowrites]

What was lost...

Joel can't seem to shake you, even when he knows you're dead and gone. A canon Lavender one shot set in between chapters 8 and 9, a few months before Joel and Tommy arrive in Boston.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

Length: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst. This is pure angst, I'm sorry. Imagined canon-typical violence. Mention of sex. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

A/N: I got this idea from an anonymous ask when I wrote about wanting to write Joel with a dead reader and they suggested writing Joel when he thought Doc was dead. SHE IS NOT REALLY DEAD, OK? Joel thinks she's dead. She's not dead. Doc is fine. She's in Boston calling QZs looking for Joel, working at the school and the clinic, and being codependent with Andrew. It's OK. I promise.

July 2008

I’ll always love you, Joel. Til the day I die.

Joel woke with a start. 

It was still dark, the moon full and high, and for half a glorious second, he thought it was you asleep against him. That the two of you were camping with Sarah and you would sense him in your sleep and reach back to put a hand at his waist and tug him closer.

He asked you once if you knew you did that, that when he woke and sat up in the night that you would reach for him until you found him and pull him back to you where he belonged, always with a little satisfied sigh. As though him being close was all you needed in the world, even when you were unconscious. 

You’d laughed when he asked, tucking your chin like you wanted to hide from it. 

“God, I’m sorry!” You said as you caught your breath. “I had no idea I did that! I promise, I won’t hunt you down in my sleep if you pull away from me…” 

Joel had laughed a little, too. 

“Don’t apologize,” he’d said. “Like it when you keep me in line.” 

“Good,” you smiled, teasing and sitting up a little straighter. “You’d better.” 

But it wasn’t you, of course. It hadn’t been you for five years. Five years to the goddamn day. 

Joel wished he’d lose track of the fucking date but he couldn’t seem to. Every time he seemed to get close, they’d have to do something like coordinate a raid on a FEDRA caravan and he’d be set back on track, his brain always keeping count. 

He wanted to forget his birthday the most. If there was any mercy left in the world, he’d have never seen another one after 36 but here he was, closing in on 41 and still marking time. 

He wished he could forget Sarah’s birthday, too. And yours. 

But, strangely, July 18 was the second hardest day for him. It was the last day the three of you were together. The last time he’d heard your voice right beside him, the last time he’d held you, the last time he had nuzzled into your hair and your skin and breathed in the lavender scent of you. 

The body next to him didn’t smell like lavender. She didn’t fit against his body like you did, either. She didn’t sound like you or taste like you or feel like you. But she was close and warm and wanted him and he’d given in. He almost always did. Because what they offered wasn’t sex, not really. It was a chance to forget, for a moment. If she looked like you, it was a chance to pretend, too. 

This one didn’t look much like you, though. He’d closed his eyes during because it didn’t seem to matter that you’d been dead for years, it still felt wrong to be with anyone besides you. It didn’t make much difference. She didn’t feel like you. He’d pulled out and finished with his hand, thinking about how you felt that day five years ago in the water. 

“Everything OK?” The woman beside him sounded groggy. 

He couldn’t remember her name. 

“Fine,” he said quietly. “Just takin’ over the watch. Go back to sleep.” 

She just shrugged and settled on the ground again as Joel worked his way through the woods, finding Tommy walking the perimeter of where they’d stopped for the night. 

“You got another two hours to sleep,” Tommy said, frowning in the moonlight. 

“I’m awake,” Joel said. “May as well take over.” 

Tommy gave him a look for a moment before he sighed. 

“S’long as you’re OK,” he said, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Should be good for a while, just did a sweep.” 

Joel just gave him a nod and Tommy made his way back to camp as Joel settled into a notch in some roots, his back resting against the trunk of a tree. 

“She’s not me, you know.” 

Your voice was so close beside him it would have made him jump if it were any other sound. But it was you. 

He was used to this by now, the way you haunted him on days like this. 

He wasn’t sure why you’d hung on in ways Sarah hadn’t. Maybe because he knew what happened to her, knew where her body had gone cold.

He’d spent so much time trying to drown out that memory - to shove it away, suffocate it, anything to keep it from taking over - that he thought he might have pushed all of her aside with it. He didn’t hear her voice as often anymore, didn’t picture her there next to him either. 

You were another story. His mind seemed to enjoy torturing him when it came to you. He’d pictured your death so many times now, the imagined memory of it finding him in his sleep on so many nights. 

Tonight had been one of those nights. This time, you’d died at the hands of a man like him. You had your backpack on, the one Joel had told you to pack, and you were walking where he’d told you to go. He could see you so clearly, your hair in braids with ribbons on the ends and your cheeks with smears of dirt like you sometimes got when camping. You’d tried to beg for your pack because Joel had told you it was important and then you tried to beg for your life because he’d told you that was important, too. 

It hadn’t worked. 

You’d been in the man’s grip, his knife at your throat and your eyes found Joel’s and you said the same thing to him you always did before you died at the hands of whatever monster he’d left you to suffer: 

I’ll always love you, Joel. Til the day I die.

“Don’t expect her to be you,” Joel said quietly, refusing to look at the ghost beside him. He didn’t need to. He knew what you’d look like, down to the jeans you were wearing and how many buttons were done up on your shirt. You always came to him in the form you’d been in the last time he’d seen you, when you waved to him as you passed through airport security on your way back to New York five years ago today. 

“I wonder why you’re always let down then,” you sounded almost smug. It didn’t sound right on your voice. You were so rarely smug. He’d made you mean in death. 

“Does it matter?” He asked. 

“I guess not,” you said. “Just thought you’d have found something better to do by now. It’s been five years, Joel.” 

He turned to look at you then. You were sitting close enough to him that, if you were real, he would feel the heat of you there. 

But there was no warmth to be found in a ghost. 

“Know how long it’s been,” he said gruffly. 

“Well, you probably deserve to torture yourself a little,” you sighed, no longer looking at him and out at the forest instead. “It’s your fault I died the way I did, you know.” 

That’s how he knew it was all in his head. You’d never say that to him. 

Even if it was true. 

“I know.” 

He sat in silence for a few minutes, refusing to look at you, speak to you even though he sometimes wondered if falling into his delusions would be the best he could hope for in this life. Nothing else would measure up to you. He knew that. He would, for the rest of his life, regret not being beside you when the world ended. He would, for the rest of his life, compare every woman he ever met to you. He would, for the rest of his life, wish for something he could never have because he’d done nothing but fucking fail the only people in the world who mattered. Now, you were both out of reach.

“I miss you, you know,” you said eventually, quietly. “I missed you when I died, too.” 

Joel didn’t say anything. He just clenched his jaw. 

“I was alone,” you said. “I was scared. You know how I got panic attacks, imagine how bad it would have been then…” 

“Stop.” 

“How I would have looked for you…” 

“Stop it.” 

“How I would have been worried about you, even as they killed me I would have been worrying for you…” 

“SHUT UP!” 

He yelled it, finally looking at you again. But you weren’t what he expected. At least, not in how you were looking at him. 

So often when he pictured you now, when you spoke to him like this - when he was sleep deprived but couldn’t rest and was in desperate need of some kind of solace - there was an almost vicious look on your face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you look like that when you were alive, it was an expression entirely of his mind’s invention. You had never been cruel or even really aggressive in life but he couldn’t think of you without it. It hurt too much to see you kind. 

But you looked earnest and sad now, so like the real you, like he was worthy of your pity for the first time in five years. It was like his heart beat for the first time since he’d held his daughter’s body.

“You never even looked for me, Joel,” you said softly. “I could have made it, you know.” 

He shook his head. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t put that thought in me, don’t…” 

“I could have. You can’t know, not really. Why did you give up on me? Why didn’t you come find me? Save me?” 

“How would you have lived?” He asked, meaning to sound angry but he couldn’t. “How would you have fucking made it through that? What was I supposed to find? What was I supposed to save?” 

You just shrugged. 

“If you really think I’m gone, why didn’t you join me? Join her?” 

He looked straight ahead. 

“I tried.” 

“You flinched.” 

He hung his head, clenched his jaw. Yes, he’d failed at that, too.

“Is this really how you’re going to spend your life, Joel?” You sounded like you. He could almost feel the gentle brush of your fingers on his neck. He still knew your touch so well, he still compared every woman he ever felt to that touch. “Hurting people and killing people and suffering yourself? Do you think this is what I would want for you?” 

He looked to the side, as far from you as he could without leaving you. 

“You could try something else,” you said after a moment. 

He looked back to you again. You were still so beautiful. Even dead, you were beautiful. 

“Try what?” He asked. “What other fuckin’ options do I have?” 

“You could go to a QZ,” you shrugged. “Try to be a person again. Have a life.” 

He scoffed.

“What’s the point?” 

“What’s the point of any of it?” You asked. “You flinched, Joel. There must be a reason for it. Do you really think you’re going to find it out here, like this? Become yourself again, become the man I loved so much that I begged him to stay, even when he told me I wasn’t worth staying for. I know you can.” 

Joel thought for a moment. 

What if you were right? What if there was still some kind of meaning to this fucked up world he was trapped in? It didn’t seem possible, not really. But you were impossible, too. You’d been impossible before the world ended and yet you’d existed. You had existed and you had chosen him. 

“You loved me once,” you said softly. 

“I still love you,” he said. “Always will.” 

“Then try. For me. OK?” 

You were looking at him, so full of hope and love that he couldn’t say no. He could never say no, not to you. 

He took a deep breath. 

“OK.” 

You smiled and you were beautiful, still so beautiful. 

“Thank you,” you said before you took a deep breath and turned your face toward the full moon like you were basking in the sun. “I think it’s time for me to go. But I’ll see you soon.” 

He huffed, cynical, looking in front of again.

“Sure you’ll be back when I’m too tired to think straight,” he said. 

“I’m sure I will,” he heard the smile in your voice. “But who knows? Maybe you won’t need me anymore, not once you find yourself again.” 

He looked at you, frowning. 

“What…” 

“Take care of yourself for me,” you leaned in so close, close enough that, if you were real, he would feel the brush of your lips on his and smell the lavender of your shampoo. “I’ll always love you, Joel. Til the day I die.” 

You were gone before he had a chance to respond, nothing but air and silence, the echo of a ghost in your wake. 

He sighed and leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to think. Maybe a QZ wasn’t a terrible idea. They’d heard some halfway decent things about Boston lately. If they started heading that way now, they could be there before the snow flies. 

And Boston, at least, was a new city. A place he’d never been, where there were no ghosts to haunt him. It was a good a place as any to try to become a person again. It was a good a place as any to try to move past you. 

Joel settled in to his watch, deciding to talk to Tommy in the morning. He’d be on board. He always was, when Joel made up his mind. 

And who knows, maybe he would find something in Boston worth flinching for. 

[shadowshrike]

I just realized I'm missing a fun detail in my post about Halsin's treatment of Astarion's Ascension - his reaction to asking a story of the player in the Epilogue if the player is Ascended Astarion.

For those who don't know, the stories you can give Halsin in the Epilogue change depending on what character you play and the circumstances of your character at endgame. There are almost 30 different possible lines.

It always starts the same way:

Halsin: Please, spare no details. I shall not lie - I have an ulterior motive in wishing to hear all. It is the children, you see. My charges. Halsin: Their appetite for bedtime tales is greater than I could ever have anticipated: 'Another story, Daddy Halsin, another!' is the chorus that greets me each nightfall. Halsin:  They have all but exhausted my repertoire in but a few short months - no mean feat, given the lifetime I have lived. I desperately need new material, please. My reputation is at stake. Player: All right, let me see what I have... Halsin: I am all ears. Though I never cared for that phrase. A rather unsettling image...

When playing Ascended Origin Astarion, this is the exchange afterward:

Astarion: My tales are a little heavy on murder and sex. But if the children want to hear them... Halsin: Hmm. Perhaps I can substitute the bloodlust and... eh, general lust for cuddles and animals in the retelling. The children may be confused, but no matter - they will soon be asleep. Halsin: Even with a few little white lies, rest assured that they shall be engrossed. Thank you.

The audio of Halsin's initial reaction for your listening pleasure:

Halsin's awkward fumbling for a way to somehow make use of Astarion's tales about murder and sex in bedtime stories for the children is the funniest thing to me. He could just say "You know what? I appreciate the stories, but maybe your flavor of adventure would be better for the kids once they're older." That's what he does with his own raunchy stories, after all.

Player:  I expect you'll have a few tales that will need to wait until they are older. Halsin: More than a few, I should think. At least I shall be equipped to explain the birds and the bees when the time comes, but I hope that time is quite a while off yet.

He even does it to Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

Shadowheart: Tell Halsin of how you consolidated your power over Lady Shar's church, purging the disloyal with bloody vigor. Halsin: My. Perhaps a tale for the older children, once I trim off a few of the... less savoury details. But thank you, all the same.

But no, Halsin is going to somehow force Lord Astarion's stories to be safe for the little kiddos. It's hilarious to imagine him feeling the need to make big, bad Astarion and his life of debauchery feel included in Halsin's own more bucolic existence. He may accept Astarion's wild stories into his repertoire, but Halsin is internally making note that Lord Astarion is absolutely not a good fit to ever become "Uncle Astarion". Some friends (or lovers) are only for adults to meet.

And, because I know some will be curious about how this compares to his other ends, Halsin's need to censor Astarion's stories is actually true for every version of Astarion. I just find his Ascended version is just the most blatant about it, though he's amusingly almost equally uncomfortable with a Spawn Astarion who has killed Cazador:

(Spawn, Cazador dead) Astarion: I've been revelling in my freedom, rediscovering the joys of the night. Halsin: Sanguine joys, no doubt? Perhaps I shall smoothen out some of those details - the children do not need to know the full truth of your diet. But they shall be rapt all the same, thank you.

The version where you've chosen not to kill Cazador before finishing the game is censored in a much different way, essentially turning Astarion's depressing story into one of perseverance.

(Spawn, Cazador alive) Astarion: Halsin, I've been hiding in sewers and eating rats. It's not a glorious tale. Halsin: Ah, but the glory can be found in the telling. The children love tales of underdogs, facing odds most unlikely. They shall appreciate your story, trust me.

You could dive into a huge analysis about this particular response regarding the morality of shielding children from unhappy endings and the enticing nature of stories about 'nobility in poverty', but that's a heavy philosophical debate I don't feel is suited for this silly little post. I just find these bonus endcaps really fun for the few who have persevered through an entire Origin run, and it's an extra crumb for the few who enjoy Ascended Astarion's odd chemistry with Halsin.