#just fucking think for two seconds about what you say

[quarterlifekitty]

Promethean

Fuckboy!Soap x shy!reader x Ghost p.3

Soap likes to think of himself as someone who’s not just a fuckboy.

But it’s hard to think that when, right now, he’s literally checking his phone more often than he did when nana was touch-and-go in the hospital, with his train line experiencing heavy delays from inclement weather.

He tilts the screen to his face for the thirtieth time in the last two minutes. Nothing.

Well, not nothing. There’s never nothing. Social media alerts. Hearts in games refilled. Reminders of all the shit he’s left in his cart across various shopping apps.

The emails. My god, the emails…

But it may as well be empty, seeing as the one thing he wants to see isn’t there.

The fuck was your problem, lately? Not responding to his texts when he used to see the read checkmark within thirty seconds alongside a typing bubble. Yeah maybe he’s not your boyfriend, and he doesn’t act all lovey dovey the way you want him to when he fucks you, and he doesn’t even look at you when he passes you on campus, and he typically ignores it when you say hey— that kinda hurts, and….

Whatever. He’s not the one under examination here. You’re being the problem right now.

He should move down the contact list. He has options.

But first he needs to figure out what the fuck is going on with you. It’s gonna drive him crazy. He has a beautiful mind, that way. Should’ve been a detective.

His first clue comes with your next class together, right at the start of the week. It’s a little colder. The heat in this wing of the building has been kinda spotty at best. He himself is wearing pants longer than basketball shorts, which is cause to alert the media.

You’re wearing something big and faded and black. It swallows you. It’s familiar. There’s some cracked, plastic design on the front that used to be a logo, probably. But maybe it’s familiar because you’ve worn it before— it’s not like he’s really paid much attention to what you’ve worn in the past, not unless it was short or low cut.

Simon’s been around the house even less than usual. And when he is home, the door to his room is closed. Weird, considering he’s always been one of those door-open freaks. Whatever, maybe he’s taken up jacking off more lately. God knows he’s never let Johnny set him up with someone.

You’ve been different. Smiley. Not that Soap would know or anything. But your errant behavior warrants a closer look. Tapping away at your phone under the table. Rushing out of class like you have somewhere to be. Almost skipping.

Maybe he’d gotten a little too lax with baiting you. Needed to recast the enchantment. Make you remember what you were clinging to hope for. Even the most reliable trap will fail if it’s not baited.

“Gonna be a rager this wknd at the house, bonnie. Wanna see u there <3”

He was flush with confidence. Even if you didn’t respond now— he’d see you there. Where else would you be on a Saturday night? You’re not the dating type.

Someone call the Audubon Society about this man, because when it comes to predicting the migratory patterns of birds, he’s always right. You’re there before the party is even in full swing. You’re wearing that black sweatshirt again— not the sexiest choice, but he can’t blame you for getting a little sloppy when he hasn’t been around to keep your back straight.

He puts on his best, wolfish grin and leans against the bannister of the staircase so that you won’t be able to help but—

Brush right past him. Up the stairs.

Straight to his room, then? Well, it had been a while since he’d given it to you, huh? Poor thing— suffering from withdrawals. Maybe that’ll teach you not to ignore him when he’s trying to magnanimously grace you with a dick appointment.

He follows, hot on your tail, just in time to feel the tickle of a breeze from the quick closing of a door.

And the door to his room stares back at him.

Wide open.

[goqmir]

cis people reading this post, you should understand two things:

1) if you think you are being kind and have a good relationship with a trans person, and you misgender them or deadname them once or more every time you see them, you are not being kind, and you probably don't have as good of a relationship as you think.

why? because misgendering and deadnaming fucking hurts. it actually hurts more than you can comprehend. it hurts like hell. it hurts like you just got stabbed for real and i'm not joking and it never ever feels better.

so answer me this: if you wanted to hang out with someone you love, and every time you did so they stabbed you once or twice with a big sharp knife and it hurt like fucking hell and left a lasting wound on you, would you still go hang out with that person regularly? if not, why do you feel entitled that the trans person you have this relationship should come visit you, knowing that possibly more than once you'll deadname or misgender them? why are you putting a knife to their throat?

2) you actually, inherently, need to put in more effort about the little parts of speech, such as pronouns, names, and gendering words and phrases, when talking to a transgender person rather than a cisgender person. it's actually more effort. you need to take the time when talking to make sure you phrase things correctly so you aren't misgendering them or deadnaming them. because, as we've established, and even though it might be a simple mistake to you, it hurts like hell to them, like a knife entering their body.

cisgender people do not have this problem, so it's somewhat harder to hurt them in casual conversation by mixing up a pronoun (which is a common mistake when talking without thinking too much for anyone!). when talking to a trans person, you need to think about your words. every cis person i've ever met not only doesn't understand this, but feels entitled to not having to pay any more attention to gendering me correctly than any cis person. and that doesn't work, because cis people don't get stabbed by simple words that are easy to mix up. you gotta talk slower and more thoughtfully until gendering this person right is second nature and if you don't you will hurt them and they'll bleed and it will be entirely your fault.

trans people are not weak because they can be hurt by your carelessness-- rather, you are cruel for hurting them for it. and the only way to not hurt them is to stop and take a second to think about what you'll say before you say it to them. but no cis person i've ever met understands this. maybe you could be the first?

sometimes i see cis people say "trans people will understand if you misgender them at first. i call my nephew 'her' all the time and he knows i don't mean it" no he doesnt. he probably never hangs out with you for more than ten minutes because that's how long you can last in a conversation before making him feel like shit. also he thinks you're, best case scenario, stupid for not being able to figure it out, or worst case scenario, uncaring about him and his needs. he doesn't like spending time with you. you're deluding yourself into thinking you're far kinder than you are. you're weird man.

[thundersoothers]

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating but it’s NOT TRUE! you’ll see… just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price thinks he hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Wrong key.” 

He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

He suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.” 

The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered). 

“Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being more loud than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—

“Wait, don’t run—�� 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

Price flicks on the lights.

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?”  You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks.  “Anything broken?”

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

He blinks. “What you got there, baby?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Right.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Right,” John says again slowly. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes. They’re unfocused and heavy.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper (to your tits?), “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute, puppy. You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.”  You whisper, as if John isn’t standing right there, “We’ll wear him down. Don’t worry.”

“I thought it was something else,” Price says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask, not looking away from the dog.

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering. 

This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  You, cheating? As if.

How silly of him to even think that. For a moment, his stomach twists with the guilt of doubting you. He should have known better. 

Of course it’s this.  What else could it have been?

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, in the middle of your walk home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, about to cry while petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your Mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.) 

“It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.) 

“Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Mrs. Price.  I’m from around here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  It’s very cute. He let me decorate it. He doesn’t understand feng shui, you see. You should see his office, puppy, it’s so bland. No taste for interior design.”

“Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes.  I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually, I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  He says it’s for my own good—booooo. Boo! But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home safely—he’s so nice, he’s so kind to me, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up. This is one of them—uh, covert operations. He’s very well-versed in those. My husband is very talented, puppy, he’s a Captain. So we’ll have to be extra careful.”

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you as you sit on the floor after you presented the dog to him.

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting Str—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“The one with all the branches,” he repeats, nodding slowly.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back at him. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown at him.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh, love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s just a little baby and he’s all alone and…” 

“Okay, okay, baby, we can keep him.”  (By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, and I—“ 

“The dog can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

“Right,” he says. 

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome even from this angle?”  You frown.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his.  He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!”  You kick your feet (still with only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip, heavy fingers digging into the plush of your butt, as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” he drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoe (singular), your dress, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“‘Puppy’ is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mummy is asleep.”  He shakes his head and sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor. His paws slip a little on the cold tile. John puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  “I can’t believe this.”

He reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

In the morning, despite John Price’s best efforts to say no to you, you end up convincing him to keep the dog. He’s a military Captain but the pleading of his wife is enough to make him crumble.

The happiness on your face when he finally says yes, makes him wonder why he ever said no in the first place.

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024. do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform. to masterlist.

[mel-rose-writes]

"Are you really willing to kill everyone in that building? Every innocent man, woman, and child who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Just to guarantee his death?" Damien asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Nova responded coldly. "Nicholias took everything from me. My home, my family, my status. Everything. It's only fair I take everything from him."

Lucas interjected. "Nova, I don't think that's such a good-"

"You wanna join them?" she asked Lucas. Nova's eyes had turned draconic in nature; her scleras pure black, and her pupils forming purple slits.

Lucas quickly shook his head. "No."

Damien sighed. "Nova, the kid's right. As much as I hate to say it, I agree with him. There are children in there. Innocents. You'd really be willing to kill them, just for revenge?"

Nova's breath was hot with fury. smoke coming out of her nostrils. "I've been waiting seven fucking years for this. My chance at revenge. You're not going to stop me now."

Damien glanced over at his crew. A terrified looking Lucas hid behind Adam, who was standing with his arms crossed. Everett, meanwhile, reached into his bag, ready to subdue the infuriated dragon at his Captain’s word.

Damien sighed. "Nova. If you do this, you'll be just as bad as-" His sentence was cut off as Nova lunged at his throat, claws and fangs bared, her dragon form fully visible.

"Don't. Finish. That. Fucking. Sentence,"she growled. Her eyes were pure black now, scales fluttering on her cheekbones.

Damien grabbed at the his throat, attempting (and failing) to pull the now 7 foot tall dragon away from him. He glanced over at Everett, who had pulled out a weighted net gun. The trigger was pointed at Nova, seconds away from being fired.

Damien sighed, glancing back at Nova. "I'm sorry my love, but I didn't want to do this." Damien then whistled sharply, signaling for Everett to fire the gun.

The net swung wildly towards the dragon, wrapping it's metal weights around her form. Her wings folded into herself, and her limbs were restricted to her body. She let out a blood curdling screech, fire breath flaming outwards at her crewmates.

"LET ME GO RIGHT NOW YOU TRAITORS!!!" she screeched. Her voice seemed distorted with rage, like there were two competing voices shouting the same line.

Damien quickly stood up and reached into Everett's bag, pulling out a large rag and a bottle of chloroform. "Pirates we may be, we still have morals. And those morals include sparing innocents. I'm sorry, but this had to be done."

Damien then swooped behind his lover, pulling the rag taught against her flaming mouth. Nova writhed about, trying to escape the embrace. But it was no use: soon, her fire breath died out, and her eyes closed shut.

Once he was sure Nova was unconscious, Damien stood up and handed the items back to Everett.

"So... what do we do now?" Adam, who had been rather quiet the whole time, asked. "I mean, Nicholias does deserve some form of punishment, doesn't he?"

Damien nodded. "Of course he does. But we leave the rest of the town out of it. Lucas, Adam, I want you two to go down there and lure Nicholias out of that building and away from the people. Everett, you come with me."

As the group split up, Damien stopped to take one last look at Nova's sleeping figure. Her dragon features had disappeared, leaving only her human form trapped under the net. For a moment, Damien was reminded of that scared teenager that he had picked up all those years ago.

"Don't worry. We'll make him pay for his crimes."

"Are you willing to kill every person in that building; every innocent man, woman, and child who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, just to guarantee his death?" "Yes."

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FIFTEEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch @ryywyd

warnings sexual innuendos, yall are getting edged one last time 🙂‍↔️

kalena speakss 🪽! it’s finally here, everyone say thank you to sza cs without her album this wasn’t getting done. one more chapter after this one, i can’t believe it mannnnn 🥹

July 2025 — San Diego, California 

My hands are sweating more than they have ever before. I sit in silence in the driver's seat of my jeep, the car parked in the driveway. It’s a beautiful house. Costal, and fucking huge. There’s a four car garage and a driveway so big you could probably park two more cars next to mine. 

This car ride was definitely eye opening to say the least. In no world would you ever catch me driving more than 30 minutes let alone two hours to see another woman. 

I’d only ever do it for Maraye.

She’s heaven sent, just a completely unbelievable human being, and the second she sent that address I was in that car faster than I could blink.

It was always going to be her.

The sound of my foot bouncing on the car floor echos off the walls and I take that as the cue to go inside, I’ve been sitting here forever. I turn off my engine, sticking the keys in the pocket of my shorts before taking a deep breath. 

My feet feel heavy as they drag towards the wooden steps. Cedar fills my nose and calms me down, just enough.

The door swings open before I can even touch the handle.

I’m not sure if I should be pissed that Maraye looks so happy or, well, happy for her. She’s glowing, skin tanner than when I last saw her. Her curls look perfect, shiny and bouncy, perfectly framing her face. She got on these striped shorts that leave too much for my imagination and a USC Trojans cropped shirt. (Remind me to burn that.)

“You didn’t show up.”

I’m instantly taken aback by the immediate comment. My eyebrows furrow and I blink back my confusion.

“I—Huh?”

“My show. I wanted you there and you didn’t come.” She elaborates, crossing her arms over her chest and suddenly I’m losing focus and staring right there. 

I can’t help the laugh that escapes my throat, a smile spreads across my face. “That’s what you wanna talk to me ‘bout? Really?”

Maraye frowns, adjusting her position on her foot. I know she’s trying to look upset, and she probably is, but that fucking pout of her lips is the cutest thing I think I’ve ever seen.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” I admit. “But y’know we should prolly talk about something else.” My eyes squint as I look over her body. Just briefly I notice a crack in her demeanor. The sternness of her eyes slips and her lip just barely quivers. It’s like she just now realized that me being here meant talking about it.

We have to. I don’t think I’d be able to go to Indiana, knowing that she’s in the stands without knowing if she hates my guts or not.

Raye sighs, but it comes off more as a deep breath. Her arms drop to her sides and she moves from the doorway, giving just enough room for me to step inside.

She doesn’t say a word, just walking into the house like there’s nothing more to say. But I follow her anyway, looking like a lost puppy and staring at her so hard I damn near forget to lock the door.

This house is way bigger than I thought it would be, I swear I walked past a game room and a gym within three seconds of one another. It has an older style, hardwood floors and cream carpets. The lighting is dim and aside from the natural light that comes from the windows, the chandeliers from the ceiling illuminate the room with a yellow light.

After what feels like hours of walking, she stops, opening another door and revealing the balcony.

“Your grandma had nice taste. This place is crazy.” I comment, looking slightly shocked. I knew the places in San Diego were nice but goddamn. 

Raye lets out a breathy laugh, approaching the outdoor seating area. It’s dark, but the fireplace that glows bright orange and yellow is more than enough for her to see me and for me to see her. She sits down without a word and I do too, right next to her on the off-white colored couch.

I can feel the warmth that radiates off her body, almost hotter than the fire itself. She crosses her legs under her as she sits and the movement of her thighs sends me into orbit. 

“I’m not gonna say anything.” She speaks up, looking at me with her tongue trailing over her bottom lip.

I look at her incredulously. “Really? You ain’t gonna say shit?”

Maraye nods slowly. “Last time I saw you, I didn’t let you talk. So I’m lettin’ you talk now, you have the floor.” She gestures to the space in front of us. “I promise.”

“You swear?”

She makes a big show of zipping her lips and tossing the imaginary key behind her and it’s things like that, that make me crazy over her. The theatrics and the laughs, she’s so unapologetically herself around me all the time, even when I piss her off and she wants to put my head on a platter.

“I swear.” She smiles, turning her full attention to me.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling the pressure of this whole situation on my shoulder again. She’s the only person in the world that without fail makes my head empty. Raye looks at me, and within seconds I’ve lost everything that I’ve been practicing on saying in the car.

“Um. Fuck,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Ion even have a fuckin’ excuse for you. I jus’— I fucked up. Drank too much, saw her, I thought you were with Julian, and I made a big mistake, Raye.”

—

Hearing Paige say all that, made my throat tighten and my chest get all heavy all over again, the same way it did when I found out everything two weeks ago.

She can’t even look at me as she speaks, and that alone lets me know she’s telling the truth. That she feels bad, maybe even worse than what she says.

“You got every right to be mad at me.” She admits, she takes a breath with every few words. It’s like she’s having a shortcoming just by trying to apologize. 

A small part of me is happy to see her all stressed out like this, as if I think she deserves it. But I also fucking hate watching her struggle to get her words together. Normally she’s so confident, it’s the first time I think I’ve ever seen her so unsure of herself.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I always told you that you have a right to be upset or get emotional about things that people say, ‘cause you’re always thinkin’ you don’t get that luxury when you do.” Paige plays with her hands and it’s then when I notice the silver band on her pinky finger. “But as soon as you got mad at me, I told you that you don’t have a right to be mad.”

I nod, remembering it all. The downside of remembering everything is that I had to relive every word that she said to me that day when I woke up and when I went to bed and even in my sleep. 

“Paige it’s—”

“Nah, you said I have the floor, right? Swore you weren’t gon’ say shit.” She points at me with one finger, her other pointer finger over her lips. Very obviously telling me to shut up, and I do. 

I can’t help but smile at her. I think even now, with her hair in that messy ass bun and the purple star patch on her chin, she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. 

“You got every right in the world to be mad at me, because what I did to you was unforgivable.” Paige finally looks up at me and I think I’m about to drown in those eyes. “I made you cry, Raye. I’d never seen you cry before and I’m never gonna forget that shit. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

I sniffle a little at her words. Hearing it from her lips while she looks at me is completely different from over the phone. 

I’m actually very glad that I waited this long, because the silence on my end completely aids in making sure I listen. Like actually listening, I’m not thinking of a rebuttal, or a way to defend myself, I’m just listening. Taking it all in.

Paige runs a hand over her chin. I know that action. She does it whenever she’s frustrated, or thinking, I don’t think she’s ever done it before with me; other than when she’s trying to get in my pants. But she does it all the time in her postgame interviews.

“I can’t go this long without speakin’ to you, Raye. You just… you’re so much different than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re fuckin’ special and— I wanna try this. Us.”

It’s certain, the most certain I’ve heard Paige be since she sat down. “If y’ont want that it’s fine too. We can be friends, or even fuckin’ acquaintances, I just— I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You left your mark, permanently.”

My breath hitches. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. She doesn’t even stutter when she says that, and it brings tears to my waterline. I already know I’m falling for every word she says. 

I do it because she looks at me like I’ve hung the moon and the stars. Her body is even closer to mine than it was before, I can see every single shift in the blue of her eyes, every ridge of her face, I can point each brown eyelash on her eyes. I’d fall for any and everything she said if it meant I had her here. Close like this.

“You uh, you told me that I don’t know you. And I think you’re wrong.” It takes me aback briefly. I wasn’t expecting it from her, especially not right now. “I know what makes you smile, how to make you laugh, how to get on your nerves.”

I roll my eyes at Paige instantly. So hard that they were probably a few millimeters away from getting stuck in the back of my head.

She laughs, that full, high pitched laugh that I’ve missed so fucking bad. “I mean you got a point. Ion know where your parents are from or your favorite show or how you like your coffee. Or if you even like coffee. Do you? I’m getting distracted.

“—I do like coffee—” I butted in briefly, any attempt to ease her obvious growing anxiety.

“—But I know enough to know that I want you and only you. You’re it for me, Raye. And I swear to God I’ll do right by you if you give me a chance. Teach me how to be your person and I’ll teach you.”

Paige sighs and I let a similar one slip from my lips too.

“Jus’ please. I’m sorry.”

My heart feels heavy with everything she’s just said to me. I know I should forgive her, every bone in my body wants me too. 

Then there’s that small part of me that doubts her just a bit. It’s the same part that creates an image of her and that girl almost everyday, the same part that doesn’t allow me to give people second chances. 

I don’t even notice the tear that slipped until I’m dropping my head in my hands and I feel it. My palms run across the expanse of my face. “I can talk now?” I tease.

“Yeah, ma. You can.” Paige shakes her head in pure amusement, not even trying to fight off the grin on her face.

“It’s so hard to stay mad at you when you say shit like that.” I groan. “Ion give people second chances, Paige. Y’know that.”

“Technically, you didn’t give me a real first chance ‘cause you had a boyfriend.” She says pointedly, bobbing her hands as if she’s trying to convince me of my options. “Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You wan’ me to get on my knees? I’ll do it, I’ll beg.”

I’m laughing but Paige is completely serious, slipping off the cushion and looking at me expectantly.

“Y’ont have t—”

But she’s already doing it, sinking to her knees below the couch and looking up at me with that damn pout of hers. “—Please, Raye. Gimme another chance, angel. I’ll do anything. Please?”

There’s no one here but me and her, yet the sight of her on her knees is enough to make me burst out in that kind of embarrassed laughter. “Can you get up?” I grit through my teeth.

“Girl, I’m on my knees!” Paige sings horrendously, and I roll my eyes again at her song reference. No way this girl thought she was gonna sing some Lloyd to convince me.

“Shut up and stand up, Madison.” I say again, attempting to pull her up by her biceps that have definitely gotten bigger in these last few weeks.

“Answer me first.”

“Yes, yes okay. I forgive you, just get up!” I giggle, covering my eyes with my palm until I feel the cushion dip beside me. “Oh my God, you’re not real.” I mumble, finally dropping my hand to see how proud she is of herself. 

“C’mere.” She instructs with a smile, opening her arms and I waist maybe a second of time before I’m turning and wrapping my arms around her neck.

Her shampoo wafts through the night air and straight to my nose, the cool zipper of her grey tech jacket against my stomach makes me jump a little bit, but she holds me there, tight to her body with her head in my neck.

“I fuckin’ missed you, dude.” Paige inhales. Only she could go from being sappy to calling me dude all in the same breath. It’s so uniquely Paige.

“I missed you too.” I sigh, breathing in her scent again.

I don’t think I want to let go. Because she’s here, hugging me like I could run away at any fucking minute, running her thumb over the open space on my back that my crop top is giving her. 

I pull back to gaze at her. That look she used to give me all the time before we even started anything, it’s there. A slight lift of the apples of her cheeks and her pupils dilated like I swore they did back then. Only this time I don’t have to think it, I know it. I see it.

I trail my hands to her cheeks, my thumb over her bottom lip. And then suddenly I’m licking mine and leaning into her.

Except Paige pulls back before we get the chance to touch.

“You don’t wanna kiss me? Really?”

She chuckles, “no I do, trust me. I really really want to. But if I kiss you, I’m gonna wanna do so much more.”

“Oh so know y’ont wanna fuck me? Paige—”

“Damn, shout it from the rooftops then!” Her eyebrows furrow at my sudden vulgarity and she leans towards me more. “Trust, I wanna do a lot of that. I just wanna take you on a date more.” Paige smiles and she looks awfully proud of herself for the cute suggestion.

It is cute. The way her cheeks flush in nervousness. I let the blonde pull me into her lap fully, adjusting me perfectly on her lap. Her hands run distractingly on my thighs, so much so that I almost forget to respond to her.

“Can I take you out on a date?”

I nod almost in a trance.

“You wanna use your words, ma?”

“Uh huh.”

“You do? Y’wanna say yeah?” She’s teasing me, and finding amusement in it too.

“Yes. You can take me out.” I blink, slapping a hand against her shoulder, and then again when I hear that god awful cackle escape her. “You’re so annoying.”

Paige licks her lips, not taking a single second to look away from me as I loll my head down to face her. “Tomorrow night, after the three point? You are still goin’ to Indy, right?”

“I am. That sounds perfect, Paige.” I grin, leaning over to ghost my lips across her cheek.

I can’t help but do it again. Her skin is so soft and warm, a near perfect spot for my lips to meet over and over again until Paige is humming and tossing her head back in an attempt to keep a respectful distance. It’s cute that she doesn’t trust herself this much. Even cuter that I’m doing practically nothing and she’s falling victim to me.

“Ion know if you got the memo, but this is st—ill kissing.” She groans, pushing at my hips.

I grip her chin in my hand, pulling back just enough to turn her head in the other direction and place kisses there. “Mmm no s’not. Our lips ain’t even close.”

And I continue this for a while, my lips on her cheeks, her jaw, ghosting over the corner of her lips in hopes of making her give in to me like she’s done many times before in the past. Paige surprised me though, standing her ground.

When I look back, her bottom lip is wet and swollen. My guess from biting it too many times. She’s breathless, and anyone else would’ve thought I’d just made her finish right here.

“I— I need to get back home. I got a flight at four.” Paige mumbles, darting her tongue over her lips.

I frown. “Fly with me from here, then.”

“My bags are at home, ma. And aren’t you flyin’ out private?” She questions, sending a pinch to my hip.

“Yes… so? I’ll call and reroute from LAX and you can come with me.” I shrug as if it’s that simple, and it probably could be if I call the right people.

Paige smirks that infamous fucking smirk. “Ion do small planes, angel. You know this. S’cute that you wanna be with me that bad, tho.”

I cross my arms over my chest, pouting. “Please, please, please?”

—

July 2025 — Somewhere over Nevada

I need to find some kind of ground to stand on when It comes to this woman.

My hands clutch my armrests, eyes squeezed shut, and head tossed back. 

I’m not scared of heights. Before anyone starts thinking that. I’m scared of tiny ass planes and not enough people on them. It was fine when we were on the ground, but the second the flight attendants were out of view and I had to get strapped in I almost shit myself.

“Paige, you can relax.” I hear Maraye giggle from in front of me, her feet resting in my lap to attempt to ground me. It worked out a little, then she started fucking around and nudging her heel a little too close to my core and all of a sudden I was trying to distract myself from something other than the plane. “P?”

“What?”

The sound of her seat belt clinging cuts through the silence, and then her feet are leaving my body and instead I feel her; all of her. Raye grips my hands, peeling the from the arms of the chair. My eyes shoot open at the contact. 

“What the hell are you doin’? Sit down.” I tell her, slightly tripping out over this flight some more. 

She gets smart, straddling my lap and sitting on it rather than in her seat. I let out a groan because I know that any other time I’d be all over this shit. Since last night, after I told her I was holding out at least until our date, she’s made a very big show of trying to get me to fold. 

First on the drive back to LA, her hand drawing patterns on my free hand, or reaching over to play with my hair. She had perfect hands. Long, slender, fingers with a shade of deep royal purple manicured on her nails. They’re fucking soft too, prefect enough to distract me while I was driving. I couldn’t help but think about how they’d feel inside me. Or circling my clit, feeling my wetness from her alone. That’s how I knew I was in so deep, when I was thinking about Raye fucking me numb just from her touching my hand.

She was talking some crazy shit too, which on any other occasion I’d be willing to handle that. But I was serious. Our relationship wasn’t going to be started on the basis of sex. I wanted to do it right. She slept In my guest bedroom because I knew If we shared a bed we wouldn’t be sleeping. Rather anything but that.

The car ride this morning was similar. Which made me realize she wasn’t doing all this just to prove a point, but because she needed me. When she told me she’d had a dream about me, told me all the details in which that dream entailed, I was about to make her wish come true and get on the floor of the passenger seat and shove my tongue so deep inside her that she saw stars. And I knew she would’ve enjoyed every minute because Raye let me know from her own mouth that she would.

Which made my brief period of celibacy nearly impossible.

She’s also not wearing clothes.

Well, she is, but not really. Her top is tiny, a sliver of fabric that barely covers her tits and shorts that ride up as soon as she gets comfortable on my lap.

“You wanna yell at me like that again?” Raye looks at me crazy, a bite of her lip and a tilt of her head that makes my entire body melt into a puddle in this seat.

“You so freaked out.” I groan, hold her hips in place. “Why the hell did I let you convince me to do this shit.” I wonder aloud trying to avoid looking out the window, noticing the obvious racing of my heart. Except I don’t know if it’s because of the plane of because of her ass pressing up on me. Her hips grinding on mine, her covered cunt dragging across the seam of my shorts.

She shrugs while trailing a finger down the obvious vein in my neck. “I dunno. You could’ve told me no.”

The slight movement pushed her tits even closer to my face and I know I’m about to either pass out or take her right here. Spread her out, rip these tiny ass pieces of fabric off her body, and drive my fingers inside her until she’s falling apart for every crew member of this plane to hear.

“Killin’ me here, ma. Move over a lil bit.” I ask, clutching a hand at her side, stilling her as much as I can and running my thumb over her ribcage. That’s where I finally see it. That damned tattoo that had me reeling on my bedroom floor last night. 

John 13:7.

I think it’s the worst time for it to be staring at me, mostly because I’m thinking some very not-so-holy thoughts. She’s testing every bit of my resolve at the moment, I was confident in my ability to hold out, but we have maybe two more hours before landing, and Maraye looks like she’s going to make me work for it the whole time.

Raye catches me staring, and she pushes a stand of hair out of her own face. “You like it?”

I nod wordlessly. Every single part of her is mesmerizing. All the ink, and then that brown of her skin is addicting. Tan lines peeking out of that tube top and up out of the waistband of her shorts.

I dig into my own shorts, pulling my phone out of my pocket before flipping the screen towards her. The same bible quote on my lock screen almost as if it was fate.

She smiles, pressing her hands to my shoulder and laughing breathily. “We're just on the same wavelength, huh?” Raye asks, I’m about to answer when she presses down harder on my lap, testing every single bit of self control I have left with just one simple movement.

“Mmhmm. Same shit, baby.”

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 how to tell you goodbye

— weeks after his mysterious disappearance, lu shows up at your door with a message for you.

notes :: TW FOR DUBCON. uh yeah I find the idea of him apologizing for doing what he has to do very hot. f!reader sorry guys this is self indulgent

You don't remember how long it's been.

But you know it'd been long enough for you to stop wondering if he was actually coming back or not, and try to cope with that fact. He was gone - there was very little doubt in your mind about that. He'd stopped responding to calls and messages, his socials went cold, his friends, at least the ones you knew, hadn't heard anything either.

He disappeared. And the last thing you ever heard from him was that he was planning on doing something... real. But he never told you what. He could be dead for all you know, and there was nothing you could do about it.

It took a pretty big toll on you. He was one of the few friends you had, and just like that he was gone. Just when things were looking up for you, your support system just had to vanish into thin air. You missed him, fuck, you missed him more than anything. You missed your little coffee shop dates, the weekend parties, playing games in your apartment when it was lonely, sitting in the park together just talking for hours.

You miss those little looks he gave you when he thought you weren't looking, the way that some of your mannerisms made him smile, the nights where your conversations would get real and you'd cry on his shoulder when it was too much for you. You miss how he'd let you.

You missed the moment when he made you look at him, and wiped your tears with his thumb, letting the tension between you two linger for longer than it should. You missed his warm, shaky breath against your cheek. But you missed the most that moment when you felt his lips on yours, just for that few seconds.

You didn't miss the way he seemed to have regretted it after.

But you remembered that the clearest of all... watching the guilt in his eyes set in as he moved away from you, standing from your couch and rushing for his bags, saying that "it was getting late" or some lie like that. You remembered how he didn't even look back at you as he walked out of your door.

And that was the last day you saw him. He texted you the next morning.

"Hey, I probably won't be able to see you for a while. Working on stuff. Gonna do something real with my life."

What the fuck did that even mean? It made you angry, irrationally so. It probably only made you angry because you thought it was your fault. But god dammit, that felt valid! You felt like you had a fair reason to be pissed. It was no secret you liked him - it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out either! He'd do something like that so carelessly, and then just throw you out?

You hated it. Maybe you'd feel better with an explanation, but the truth of the matter is that he kissed you and then mysteriously disappeared, not to be seen again. And how were you not supposed to make assumptions in that situation?

And so you'd spend your days by yourself. With no more Luigi to rely on to keep you from spiraling, you'd been curled up in your room by yourself, scrolling through his social media posts, rereading your message logs to see if there's something you'd missed.

You had a jacket of his he left at your place, and every night you'd wrap a pillow in it and breathe in the mix of cologne and his natural scent until it lulled you to sleep.

It wasn't enough. You wish he'd come back, but even if he did, what was there to say? Even if he apologized, you didn't know that you'd forgive him.

That is, until he actually did come back.

No, surely that was just wishful thinking - that knock was probably a salesman or someone stupid like that coming to bother you. You dragged yourself up from your bed and slowly approached the door, groaning to yourself before putting on a fake smile to answer it.

And sure enough, there he was. Cold and scruffy looking, his clothes ruffled and his hair matted, bags under his eyes. He pushed you inside, and slammed the door behind himself.

He kissed you again. But this time he didn't hesitate, and he wasn't gentle - he threw himself onto you, your lips messily colliding with his as he leaned into it, diving his tongue into your mouth. His hands slid down to your hips, grabbing the waistband of your sweatpants so tight it was like he might fall off the Earth if he let go.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, and he hungrily pushed it as far as you'd let it go, which was admittedly pretty far. But then the shock faded, and you pressed your hands to his chest, shoving him back. He was weak enough that he fell back into the door, leaning against it to prevent from fully toppling over.

"What the fuck?!"

You'd never yelled at him before. Never even thought about getting upset with him. His face turned fearful, as he steadied himself and tried to walk forwards again. You took a step back for the one he took forwards.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Who do you think you are, fucking with me like this?!"

His expression shifted. He just stared at you, blankly, either too tired or too numb to show any emotion anymore. And fuck, that only made you angrier. "You think this is funny? I was worried you could be dead, and now you just- show up, months later, looking like this? Why didn't you say something? You just- just-"

"I'll explain everything. Just... I really... missed you."

"Yeah? You didn't miss me enough to at least give me a heads up that you were alive!" You hid your face in your hands, sighing deeply trying to contain yourself. What reasonable explanation could there possibly be? You couldn't reason with him surely.

You hear him step forwards, and he places his hands on your hips again. You reach down to pull him off of you, but the moment you move your hands away from your face, he's pressing more kisses to your lips. He holds you tighter, his arms wrapping around you. "Get off me," you growl, but he doesn't listen.

He kisses your neck, his warm breath shaking profusely. "Luigi," you say, and he can't even look up at you. You yank one of his hands off, only for him to put it back on you with more force than the last time. "I said get off!"

"Let me make it up to you," he begs you, his gaze meeting yours as he walked you forwards, pushing you onto the couch. You try to stand, but he's quicker, and he straddles you, hovering over you and pushing you down by your shoulders. He stops looking you in the eyes, too embarrassed at what he was doing.

"Luigi, stop! I'm trying to talk to you, god dammit!" He doesn't listen. He can't. He's already straining his jeans, grinding his hips into yours. It's warm. He's warm, and fuck, you can't lie to yourself. You missed this feeling. You missed the feeling of something real being there with you. You missed him.

Your body betrays you, and you softly rock your hips forwards into his, swearing under your breath. He smiles softly, cupping one of your hips in his hand. "It's okay. I know you missed this." He looked at you, a weird sincerity in his eyes, considering what he was actually doing.

"I'm not messing around. This- this isn't funny. Let go of me." At some point you had stopped struggling without noticing, and you squirmed again, causing him to push more of his weight down onto you. He spoke softly to you. "Shh, it's okay... It's okay, I promise I won't take long. Promise, promise."

He muttered some words in Italian, something that sounded along the lines of a prayer as he rutted into you, yanking your hips up to get more friction. "Stop it," you say again, covering your face with one of your hands.

The truth is that you'd dreamed of this moment for so long. So very long. You'd dreamed of what it would feel like when he finally touched you, his skin on yours, giving you all he had to give. But fuck, not like this, not like this-

He finished with whatever he was reciting, and slipped his fingers under your waistband, along with the one of your panties and tugged them down. You pressed your thighs together, but he was stronger than you and pushed them apart, leaving you exposed for him.

"You're beautiful..." He stared down at you, leaving a crimson shade on your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just... I felt like I had to tell you goodbye." Your eyes widened as he said that, and you shook your head. "What are you talking about? Luigi, I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere either. You don't have to do this, please-"

By the time you finished, he was already unbuckling his belt, the sound of the buckle clinking against itself making you shiver. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, rubbing himself against your folds. He was big. Bigger than you expected. Big enough that it looked like this might leave you sore.

You tried to scoot back, but he reached for you and pulled you closer than you were before, gasping at the feeling of your wetness against his cock. He'd longed for this forever, maybe even since the moment he'd first laid eyes on you. It felt like heaven to him, despite how dirty he felt - despite the fact that he knew it was wrong.

Something about you looking down on him for this only made him harder.

He lined himself up with your entrance and parted you with just his tip, his nails sinking into your hips as he did. "Fuck," he whimpered, "I'm so sorry, amore."

And with that, he slid into you slowly. You sighed in relief, only to cry out when he was so overwhelmed by pleasure that he slammed himself into you as deep as he could manage, rolling his hips into you.

Fuck. You could feel him pressing against your cervix. His breath shook as he panted heavily, shutting his eyes tightly as he pulled out nearly all the way, only to slam back into you. He swore, leaving bruises on your sides from how hard he was holding you. It hurt but you didn't care.

He kept up this brutal force, moving all the way out just so he could thrust deep into you again. It took him a while to speed up just because he was so overstimulated by it. But when he did, he fucked you like a wild animal, slamming his hips into yours, the obscene sound of his skin hitting yours filling your apartment.

You looked up at him, who still had his eyes closed out of shame. You couldn't help but imagine what he saw behind his eyelids, what he was imagining as he fucked you in earnest. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he fought against them. "I'm sorry," he muttered, over and over again. He couldn't stop apologizing.

"It's- it's okay, it's okay... fuck-! I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you... oh god..."

That was too much for him. Your acceptance, that unconditional love of yours, the fact that he could do this, and you would still understand, pushed him over, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

His hands frantically slid up your sides as he leaned down onto you, both your chests pressed together, getting as much of his skin on yours as possible. He ran his fingers up and down you, committing every hill and valley to memory. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise you. I promise."

He kept mindlessly apologizing as he used you, controlled by his own need. There was no stopping him now, and you didn't want to. He was beautiful even like this, even at his lowest point. You knew that you loved him in this moment.

"I'm gonna cum, please, please... I'm sorry, I need it, please, baby-" He kept babbling through his tears, which fell onto your cheeks. You closed your eyes softly, leaning into his touch, pressing your lips to his.

He devoured you in an instant, the kiss deeper than before, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. "Perdonami, ti prego," he begged, speaking inbetween breaths.

"Lu," you cooed. "Go ahead. It's alright."

As soon as you commanded him, his eyes shot open and he threw his head back as he rammed into your cervix, spilling himself deep inside of you, his body shaking as he did. You tightened around him, the feeling of him finally letting himself go enough to make you cum too, as you called out his name.

He stayed tensed up over you for a moment, his arms struggling to hold his weight as his eyes shut, and he collapsed on top of you, his face in your chest. He started to sob, gripping you tight, one of his hands going down to entangle with yours. "I'm so sorry, amore," he repeated, over and over, "I'm sorry"s falling from his lips.

You pressed him closer, free hand stroking his hair softly as he crumbled in your arms. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"Please don't hold it against me."

"We'll figure it out, okay, Lu? We'll figure it out, together. Me and you. Because I love you."

"I love you too.... No matter what happens, remember that I love you."

[miniwheat77]

Co-Star. (Ghost x Reader.)

!NSFW, Smut, cheating, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), sex coaching, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

Merry early Christmas, please enjoy this pure filth! Love you guys <3

Unedited*

You smile sympathetically as you push his hips back. “I’m sorry Johnny, it’s not you.” You mumble. “I can keep going, doesn’t matter if I’ve… finished.” He mumbles. “No, it’s okay. I’m too sensitive.” You laugh. “You want me to try anything else?”

“No- no it’s okay.”

That’s usually how it went when the two of you were intimate. It didn’t matter how long Johnny lasted or what he changed, it never seemed to be enough. No matter what he did. He was frustrated with himself for not being able to get you there.

When he arrived home, he saw Ghost sitting on their shared couch. He was watching a show. Johnny knew about his reputation with women. He sighs.

“Something the matter Johnny?”

“No. Well… yeah.” He mumbles. He walks into the room completely and sits down. Ghost pauses the show. “What’s going on?”

“It’s awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… every time Y/N and I-“ he pauses. “Are intimate, I can’t satisfy her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Literally nothing I do will get her there.”

Ghost goes quiet for a second, crossing his leg over the other. “You rub her clit when you fuck her?” He asks, tipping his beer bottle back and taking a swig. “Christ… uh. Yeah. Yeah I’ve tried everything.”

“I mean I can go down the line but it’s not hands on so it won’t stick.” He shrugs.

An idea suddenly comes to Johnny’s mind. “If I ask her and she’s into it… you think you can show me?”

Ghost immediately feels the pit forming in his lower stomach, arousal.

“You mean you want me to fuck her?”

“To show me how to.. make her cum. Yeah I guess so.”

“Nothing weird though, right?” Ghost narrows his eyes. Johnny looks at him. Ghost stands up, stretching. “Obviously. I guess I’ll talk to her. Thank you Ghost.”

“Course Johnny.”

Ghost has to go take a shower and relieve himself. The thought of being inside you after being teased by you multiple times a week is overwhelming him.

A couple days later when Johnny is at your house again, he’s unsure how to bring it up to you. He wants his step brother to fuck you so that he can take notes and then MAYBE he’ll be able to make you cum? It sounds crazy to him even, how he’s supposed to get you to agree is beyond him.

“Johnny, you okay?” You pause the movie. He’s been acting weird all night.

“Uh.. yeah.” He mumbles. “You sure? You’ve been acting funny all night.” You sigh. You sit up on the couch, you’d been laying with your legs draped across him. “I.. I was talking to Ghost about… how I can’t satisfy you.” Your eyes widen. “Johnny!”

“I know I know. It’s not your thing to tell others about our sex life but I just want to be able to make you cum.” He laughs. “But I have a really weird request.” You look at him awkward. “He agreed to help me. Because obviously I’m not going to learn just by what he says.” You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask.

He chews on his lip nervously. “I mean.. if you’re okay with it. He’s going to show me how to please you. Hands on.”

“What do you mean Johnny? How is he supposed to show you anything hands on without touching m-“ you cut yourself off, eyes going wide. “Woah! Woah. No way. No fucking way Johnny.” You stand up. “Look.. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know.”

“Of course it’s a lot to ask, you’re asking me to have sex with another guy! Your step brother of all people. Christ Johnny.” You sigh. “Look. It’s just once. Just once so that I’ll be able to make you cum every time we have sex. Just once Y/N.” You close your eyes. “One time for the rest of our lives together.” He smiles. “I’ll think about it Johnny.” You mumble. “Okay. Awesome.” He smiles.

So you do. For a few days you think about what he wants you to do.

Have sex with someone else.

Sleeping with Ghost was definitely not on your mind. You liked him of course, you got along well and shared a few of the same hobbies with him. But you were okay just being his sister-in-law someday.

Having sex with Johnny once was enough to convince you. It was so bad and you had no idea why.

So the very next morning you approached him about it.

———

“Are you sure about this?” You ask him. He’s just pulled into the driveway of his shared house with Ghost. He laughs, clearly seeing how nervous you’ve gotten. “Are YOU sure about this?” He smiles. You sigh.

“I guess so.” You mumble. You follow Johnny into the house and see Ghost sitting on the couch. He finishes off his beer and stands up, turning the TV off.

You cross your arms with a sigh as the three of you stand there staring at each other. “This is as awkward as it’s going to get, let’s get this over with.” You turn your back and head into Johnny’s room.

You start tugging your clothes off. Jacket and shoes coming first, Johnny and Ghost watch until you’re in your bra and jeans. “Alright. You two get started I’ll be back in like… 10 minutes to see what you’re doing wrong.” Ghost mumbles, heading into his bedroom just down the hall. The wall is shared and he rests up against it like he has before, listening to you. You sound so pretty.

But you don’t sound nearly as good as you could. He wants to hear you when you cum.

He listens for a while. He finally has enough, going in. Knocking at the door before he just walks right in. “Anything feel different?” He asks. You chew at your lip, shaking your head. Johnny sighs.

“Alright. I didn’t even need to see it to know you’re really bad at this, Johnny.” He snorts. Johnny rolls his eyes. “Move away, I’ll show you.” Johnny stands up, sliding himself back into his jeans. Ghost moves toward you, your nerves are completely shot as he throws the blanket off of you, revealing you to him completely. You’re nervous. He’s very blunt in his movements.

He wipes his lips with his sleeve, trying to distract himself from you. He grasps two pillows, sliding one under your head. “Raise your hips up.” He nods, helping raise your hips as he slides it under you. “It’ll help raise her pelvis so that you can go deeper.” He glances at Johnny. He nods his head. “Got it.. just. Do your thing.” He mumbles.

Ghost reaches for his waistband. You swallow hard, making eye contact with Johnny. You’re clearly very nervous. “S’alright, no need to be nervous. Just try to relax.” Ghost has exposed himself to you. He’s moved himself between your legs. “When people say that bullshit on TV about foreplay it’s true. It’s easier to cum the more turned on you are.” He mumbles, sliding into you. Your eyes widen, clutching at the sheets. He fills you up to the hilt, cock deeper than you’ve ever felt. “Does it feel better?” He asks. You swallow hard, nodding your head. “Y-yeah.” You breathe.

“Alright. Sometimes you have to adjust the way you’re angled-“ he moves a little bit and thrusts a couple of times, trying to get a feel for you. He lowers himself slightly, adjusting just right and thrusting. When he hears you gasp, feeling you tighten around him. “To find that spot.” He takes a deep breath. “Once you find it, don’t move or adjust and keep hitting it.” Ghost is thrusting, not too fast and not too slow. “O-oh god.” You breathe. Feeling yourself tighten around him. He clears his throat, turning to look at Johnny. He’s watching you intensely. Seeing that you’re obviously on the edge, as you’ve never looked like this before. “When she’s close, don’t move and don’t pick up the speed. If you do, you’ll lose your rhythm and overstimulate her without getting her there. I assume that’s what happens regularly.” He breathes. He reaches down between you, thumb pressing into your clit. “Not too hard now..” he breathes. Gentle touches and gentle circles.

Tears gather in your eyes, you’re right there. “Oh fuck!” You hiccup. “Go ahead, cum for me.”

Johnny’s cock is hard, the way you’re reacting is something he hadn’t ever seen before. Your eyes roll back, screwing shut as you reach your peak around Ghost. He thrusts a couple more times to ride your high out completely before pulling out of you.

He stands up. He wants nothing more than to kiss you. To help you come down from your high. But it’s not his place and he knows it. “You get the idea Johnny. Just.. take your time with her.” Ghost needs to hurry, he’s about to lose that high. He excuses himself quickly, hopping right into the shower. He realizes that he’d forgotten a condom completely. He’d just fucked you raw right in front of Johnny and nobody stopped him.

“You alright?” Johnny asks. “Uh.. yeah. Yeah. It’s getting a little late though. I have work tomorrow.” You mumble. You stand up but your legs buckle. Johnny laughs. “He uh.. really knows his stuff huh?” He jokes. You smile nervously. “Yeah, yeah he does.” You mumble. You say goodbye to Johnny, leaving to your apartment.

The way you feel isn’t good. You’re not sure what these feelings are.

———

A few nights later, Johnny comes in. He’s clearly frustrated. “Everything alright Johnny?” Ghost asks. “No, I still can’t make her cum. I do everything you showed me and it just doesn’t work.” He groans, sitting down. “You know what… I’m gonna go out for a drink. You wanna come?” He asks. “No, I’m good. Got drills early tomorrow.” He laughs. “Loosen up Johnny, you’ll learn.” He mumbles. Johnny leaves and right as Ghost is changing, he hears a knock at the door. “Damnit, forgot his fucking keys that fast?” He mumbles under his breath, opening up the door. “Uh.. sorry to bother you.” You mumble. “Y/N? You know you don’t have to knock right?” He asks. “Oh yeah- yeah I know.” You shake your head. “Is Johnny here?” You ask. “Nah he just left, come in.” He moves to the side. He’s shirtless. “He said things didn’t go well.”

You shrug. “He just- acts like he’s in a hurry.” You breathe. “Tonight he just.. got mad and left right in the middle. Said.. it shouldn’t take me that long.” You laugh, cheeks red. He rolls his eyes. “He’ll get it one day.” He mumbles.

Ghost knows that what he’s thinking about is wrong. Pushing you down and spearing you on his cock until you’re sobbing. He hates that he can’t have you.

“Do.. do you think that-“ you pause. “I know it’s wrong but, can you help me?” You look up at him. His blood about freezes at that question, words he never imagined out of your mouth in a million years. “Y/N…” he mumbles. “Johnny would be pissed if he found out.”

You laugh, looking down. “Yeah- yeah you’re right. I know.”

“I just can’t shake the way you made me feel. I’ve never ever felt like that before.” You breathe. “Thanks anyways- sorry for bothering you.” You mumble, turning to walk out the door. He sighs. Reaching out for your wrist. “Wait.” He breathes. “Just once, and we keep it between us alright?” You nod your head. Before you realize the severity of what you’re doing, he’s pulling you into his bedroom.

He’s got a pillow under your hips in just a few seconds and your heart races in your chest. The excitement you feel to cum like this again is near pathetic. “Try to keep up with me, I’m gonna be rough.” He mumbles. You nod your head. He slides into you and gives you a few seconds to adjust. You’re full once again, relishing in the way he feels inside of you. He feels so much different from Johnny, just the slightest bit difference and you’re falling over that edge.

He pins your hips to the bed, starting his bruising thrusts into you. He’d usually warm you up with foreplay but he knows with Johnny out for a while, he doesn’t have that kind of time.

You whine out, hands clutching his bedsheets. He can’t believe this.

He’s inside of you again. And not for another fucking lesson, just because.

Just because you want him.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp. Your moans draw him back down to earth. “Fuck- you’re so fucking tight.” He hisses. Butterflies overload your stomach, you’re already close to your high. He hadn’t even touched your clit and you’re already there. “Simon-“ you mewl his actual name. He didn’t even know that you had known it. It’s unexpected and something he didn’t think he’d ever hear out of you. You cum around him and he doesn’t expect it, the tightening of you around him sends him flying into his own orgasm. Gasping out as he reaches it. He lets out a string of curses and moans as he cums, body tense and shaking. It’s by far the hardest he’s ever cum. “Fuck- fuck. I came inside.” He breathes. He draws back from you. “Shit..” you mumble. “It’s- it’s okay I’ll pick something up for it.” You pant. He nods. “You okay?” He asks. Now, he can comfort you. He can’t kiss you, he knows it. But he can comfort you.

He lets you calm down in his bed until you’re ready to leave, but when you get out to your car, the dread sets in.

The fact that you had just cheated on Johnny with his step brother.

You drive home in shambles.

When Johnny comes home, it’s late. But Ghost hasn’t slept. He can’t.

“Thought you said you had drills?” Johnny asks. “Yeah, can’t fucking sleep.” He mumbles. Breathing out. “I did something stupid.” He breathes. “What? What happened?”

“I fucked another girl.” Simon’s eyes widen. “Johnny.. seriously?”

“Yeah.. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell Y/N.”

Ghost shakes his head. “That’s the end of it yknow?” Johnny swallows hard. “What?”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to put up with it, that’s the end of your relationship.”

Ghost picks a water up out of the fridge. “That sucks, rather liked Y/N, she’s a good girl.” He sighs. Walking back into his room. Johnny takes a deep breath. He hasn’t thought this through. The end, he hadn’t thought about it.

The next day, when Ghost comes home from work, Johnny isn’t home.

He’s not usually but this time, he wonders what’s going on. If the two of you will come clean or try to work things out. If Johnny will come right home and sock him right in the face, Ghost wouldn’t blame him. He kind’ve deserves it actually.

He hears him pull into the driveway, and he walks in with a box of his stuff. “So.. it didn’t go well?” Ghost mumbles. “Nah- it went alright.” He mumbles. “It did?” He nods. “Yeah. She came clean about something though.” Ghosts hair raises, he just knows he’s gonna have to fight Johnny off.

“She said that after that day- when you fucked her to show me how to make her cum, she caught feelings for you. Told me she forgives me but it wouldn’t have worked out anyways.”

“Wait- what?” Ghost mumbles.

“Yeah. So I gave her your number.” He laughs. “Would you even be okay with that?” Ghost is taken completely off guard. “I like Y/N, don’t get me wrong. I thought I’d be more broken up about it. But the intimacy just wasn’t there. She felt more like.. a sister than a girlfriend. I’m glad it’s going this way. Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know you like her.” Ghost takes a deep breath. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

‘Hey. Want to meet?’

Ghost doesn’t even need to ask to know who it is.

“Go get her, Riley.” Johnny laughs. “There’s no way you’re okay with this-“

“Ghost. Stop being stubborn. I’ve got a fox waiting for me at the bar, just go.” He laughs. He disappears into his room. Ghost swallows hard, typing back quickly on his phone.

‘On my way.’

He can’t believe this is happening.

He drives way too fast to get to your apartment. Knowing right where to go. He pulls into the parking lot and parks. Throwing the door open and slamming it shut.

He hurries up to your door, knocking a couple times. You open it pretty quick, you’d obviously been waiting. He leans on the frame, smiling.

“Caught feelings, hm?”

You roll your eyes. “So you’ve talked to Johnny, I see.”

He smirks. Stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him. Locking it. “Yeah, yeah I did. You tell him about last night?” He asks. “I actually left that part out, so keep your mouth shut or else, Riley.” You mumble. “Ah- he’s busy with that girl from the bar. He doesn’t care.”

“Good.” You smirk.

He pushes you backward, lips finally meeting yours. He’s waited forever to feel your lips on his.

“How about I show you how I really do this, hm?” He smiles. He lifts you up by your thighs, walking into your bedroom with you. He lays you down on your bed, helping you get undressed. He takes his time with you. The drastic difference between him and Johnny is confusing.

He kisses you passionately, toying with your clit as he does. He’s working you up.

He kisses down your chest, he’s got you undressed and at his complete mercy. He moves down your body, worshipping you. When you feel his tongue on you, you go tense. Breathing out a jagged breath. “Deep breaths. Relax.” He breathes. You nod your head. He rests his hands on your thighs and you clutch them, moaning out as he starts again. Tonguing your clit. You pant out his name, trying to be as quiet as you can. “Oh fuck Simon-“ you shake. You clench your thighs together slightly, trying not to squish him. He laps at your clit with his tongue. Working you close to an orgasm. He squeezes your thighs with his arms.

His dick is hard and he ruts into the bed. Hearing you moan his name is nearly too much. He knows you’re his now, that he can fuck you and make you cum whenever he wants. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone finding out, or coming home. It’s just you and him together.

You let out a mewl when you cum, something so pretty. He can’t shake the way you make him feel.

He moves up the bed, not giving you much time to come down from your orgasm before he’s sliding into you. You gasp, but he kisses you to muffle it. He works his hips into yours. Grasping your thighs and lifting your hips as he fucks you. Screwing his hips into yours, his bruising pace is brutal. You can barely catch your breath. You clutch his wrist, feeling his muscles clench under your grasp. “Fuck! How are you so good at this?” You cry. He smirks. “Just a natural sweetheart. Focus on cumming for me.” He laughs, it’s taunting.

He slows down, taking in a sharp breath. “Let’s do it my favorite way hm? Can’t let you have all of the fun.” He moves you, forcing you up onto your hands and knees, moving himself behind you. He rests his hand on the middle of your back, pushing down. You arch your back, laying your head into the pillow. Ass up for him. He lines up with you, sliding into you. He lets you adjust, he’s deeper than usual and he doesn’t want to hurt you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds that spot, finding that pace. He’s got you crying into your pillow in just a few minutes. His hands grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises there. You can’t wait to wake up and see them in the morning. He grasps a handful of your hair and forces you up, hearing you gasp. “How about you be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm?” You shiver at his tone. It’s unexpected. You whine out. He lifts you up until your back is flush with his chest. “Need some help darling?” He laughs. He makes you feel pathetic. He glides his hand down your stomach, moving lower. You whimper at the thought of him touching your clit.

It’ll send you right over the edge.

He brushes his fingertip over it, hearing you mewl. “Please- keep touching it.” You cry. “Ask nice baby.” He grits his teeth. “Please Simon- please keep touching my clit.” You’re nearly sobbing as you ask. He puts more pressure on it, circling it. You cry out his name again. He can feel you clamping down around him. About to cum again. “That’s it… atta girl Y/N. Cum now pretty girl.”

You fall forward but he doesn’t stop, finger still circling your clit and keeping his pace as he finishes you off. Tears escape your eyes this time, and you’d thought he’d made you feel good before, but this time was different. Your eyes widen when you feel him cum, feeling it this time. He cums deep.

You gasp as he takes one last thrust, feeling the warmth fill you.

You’re panting, eyes screwed shut. Your cheeks are flushed and wet from tears.

He laughs at you. How you’re exhausted and completely fucked out.

“Fuck you’re good at that.” You laugh. Sitting up. He turns your head, kissing you deeply. “I hope you know this means you’re mine.” He breathes. “Thank god, I can’t go through this again.” You laugh.

“Were you crying? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No- no not at all. You just overwhelmed me that’s all.” You laugh. “Scared me for a second, thought I was too rough.” He snorts. “Not at all.” You breathe. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’ll buy you dinner.” He helps you off of the bed, your knees buckle before you can take a step but he’s quick to catch you.

“Jesus.” He laughs. “Maybe I am really good at this.” He smirks. You roll your eyes. “Very humble of you.”

“Shut up before I make you cry again.” He pushes you forward to your bathroom.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

come back. l Joel Miller

Summary: first steps together

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie is mean to Joel

A/N: I guess I'm not done with them yet. Sorry!

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Everything was getting out of control, or maybe that's how it was supposed to be. Maybe he had already forgotten what it was like to lose control over himself, to be carried away by the moment and emotions, when instincts take over you, when you're a little selfish. Now it was all happening at once and Joel felt like a hurricane was raging in his body.

Your lips tasted of sweet wine, he felt the curves of your body under his hands, your fingers were intertwined in his hair. And he felt amazing. 

You were sitting astride his lap. The dress you were wearing was rolled up enough so that Joel's hands had access to your thighs.

Holy shit! Everything he had closed so tightly years ago was now exploding with new force.

He invited you to dinner, to spend the evening as if the world outside the walls of Jackson hadn't gone crazy, and you were just two people close to each other. When you showed up at his door in that dress, Joel believed that this could really happen.

You looked different than usual. You were a little embarrassed, it had been years since you last wore something nice. Joel's reaction was also specific, he was totally surprised and had a hard time greeting you.

And now you were on this couch, and his tongue was deep in your throat. Big, strong hands squeezed your buttocks, and you moaned feeling the hard bulge in his jeans under you.

"Wait." he whispered, pulling away from your lips for a moment, his hair was already a total mess from your hands. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Joel..." you sighed, smiling. "Do you think I would wear a dress if I wasn't sure?"

You saw him swallow. The last parts of his brain were trying to fight something he wanted so badly. He saw your glazed eyes, swollen lips, you were breathing deeply and your chest was heaving gently.

"Don't you like me?" Your question tore him from his stream of thoughts.

He grabbed your hand and slid it between your bodies where his hard cock was trying to get out of his jeans. You smiled and bit your lower lip feeling the hard shape under your fingers.

"That's a nice compliment." you stated "Please, Joel... I've been thinking about you for so long. Don't make me wait."

"Were you thinking about me?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

"I didn't want to tell you anything though. We were friends, partners. Besides, Ellie was with us. I didn't want to, I didn't want to say something that you wouldn't reciprocate, and I would ruin what we had."

"Fuck, darling." he sighed, with difficulty pulling your hand away from his crotch. Just a little more and he would have exploded into his jeans like a fucking teenager. "I- I thought about you too. So many times..."

"Did you touch yourself then?" he looked at you surprised. "Once, when you were on watch, I woke up and I think I heard you. I didn't want to disturb you, but then I heard my name and..."

Joel cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess I did. It's embarrassing."

"It's sexy." you corrected him and kissed him hard so he would definitely believe your words. "Take me to your bed, Joel."

You didn't have to repeat it a second time.

Although Joel had seen you naked before, he had never seen you like this. His eyes took you all in. When the dress fell to the floor, his heart stopped for a moment, then started racing.

"What do you think?" you asked uncertainly.

He was unable to answer, his voice caught in his throat. Instead, his hands rested on your face and he kissed you hard. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt and soon moved to his chest.

Joel couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Gently, with feeling. Your closeness and tenderness were peeling off layers of him, and it wasn't just about clothes. 

You stumbled backwards and your legs hit the edge of the bed. Joel slowly laid you down, and then his eyes moved over your entire body.

"Stunning." He said quietly, and you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

He slowly unbuckled the belt on his jeans and slid them down, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Without a word, his hands reached for the edges of your panties and slid them too.

Your skin was already so sensitive that every touch of his was felt by you even more strongly. You had never felt anything like this before.

Joel climbed onto the bed and closed you between his broad shoulders. Your lips found each other again. The heat radiating from his body was overwhelming and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You wanted to feel him next to you, on you, inside you, in every way possible.

Only him.

Kisses went down to your neck and cleavage, you moaned softly as he squeezed your breast.

"You're perfect..." he whispered "So fucking perfect..."

"Joel, please..." you moaned.

You needed anything to help you, to give you relief, from the growing arousal between your thighs. And he gave it to you. The same hand slid down your hip and found your hot center, you were already wet and slippery with desire.

"For me?" Joel smiled slyly, and you felt the heat creep up your neck.

"Please..."

The colossal fingers slid over your folds and soon you felt a pleasant pressure as they slid into your heated core.

"Fuck, baby..." Joel looked in awe where his fingers disappeared inside you "You wrap them so well. I can't wait to be inside you."

You couldn't answer. The feeling was overwhelming, you would never be able to give yourself something like that. Joel's fingers seemed to find all the spots in you that made your head spin. You gasped as his warm lips captured your nipple, sucking hard. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it harder than you intended. You were so close...

"I'm holding you, baby girl." his warm breath on your sternum "Let it go."

He lightly bit your other breast, his fingers sliding in and out of you harder and harder and soon you were tightening your legs around his hand as the pleasure flooded your body.

"Fuuuuck!" you moaned, arching your back.

Joel had never seen you more beautiful. He wanted more. To see, to feel, to taste, to experience. With you. 

He slid down his boxers, and his hard, swollen cock appeared in full. Joel grabbed it at the base and rubbed your juices along its entire length.

"It's been a while." he said, noticing your gaze. "I can...fuck... I might not last long."

"I don't care, Joel." you said. "I want to feel you. This is enough for me. I want you to cum too."

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance. For a moment you felt anxiety whether he would fit, whether you would be enough for him, but then you felt him start to slide into you. Inch by inch. 

Your walls stretched and took him inside, your hands tightened around his strong shoulders. When Joel entered all the way, you both froze for a moment. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing deeply.

"Fuck..." he sighed "I didn't expect this, give me a moment."

"Take as much as you need." You replied, stroking his shoulders. "You feel wonderful. You fill me completely."

After a short moment, his hips moved. He pulled out a little and pushed, as if to see if he could hold out. You pulled your legs up, and he tightened his grip on your thigh, then lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You didn't need words.

Joel's movements were steady, aimed straight at that spot he found inside you, that made you fall apart under his hands. He wanted to see it again, he wanted to feel you clenching around his cock now. Your panting mixed with the dirty sounds of skin slapping against skin, with how wet you were as he entered you at that steady pace.

You pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. A hot tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, but he silenced you well. He hit you harder, the air flew out of your lungs. Again and again. 

You woke up everything in him, between your thighs he could find fulfillment and redemption, he wanted it all, and you gave it to him with pleasure.

Another orgasm was building inside you incredibly fast.

"Joel..." you moaned.

He rested his arms on either side of you and didn't slow down. His eyes were black as night, he wanted to see you lose yourself in him again. He needed it.

"Give it to me again, baby. Don't hold back." he panted.

You didn't have a chance to answer. Another wave flooded your body and all your senses. Your eyes rolled back, you almost bit your lip. Joel didn't slow down, even though he was already close to the edge.

"Fuck!' he groaned loudly and pulled out of you.

His seed spurted onto your lower abdomen in hot streams. Although he was breathing deeply, he felt like he was constantly out of breath. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying to calm down. Only your delicate hand, which rested on his cheek, brought him back to life.

"Shit, baby..." he mumbled "I'll clean it up right away. I didn't think that... That was..."

You lifted yourself up and kissed him, and Joel returned the kiss with pleasure. You felt the smile that appeared on his lips and you smiled to yourself. 

This was it. This was the guy who was always there for you, who always gave you his arm as support, who shielded you with his body, who was there for you. He was everything.

His heart gave a strange throb when, going downstairs, he heard familiar chatter in the kitchen. Ellie was delighted with something and was telling you about something, and the pleasant smell of breakfast and coffee filled the house.

His clean shirt clung to his still damp body, and his hair was still wet, even though he had combed it back. When he woke up next to you in the morning, he couldn't help himself. You were still a bit sleepy when he slid into you, but you welcomed him with pleasure. 

It was slow, tender and gentle. He imagined mornings like this when he allowed his thoughts to be carefree for a moment. After everything, he pulled you into the shower, where his hands shamelessly explored your body. He didn't know the words to describe what he felt.

When he went down to the kitchen, Ellie's gaze immediately landed on him. A victorious smile appeared on her face.

"I see the evening was a success." she said, and seeing Joel frowned, she quickly added "Can you still do these things, old man?" 

You barely managed to stop yourself from bursting out laughing and were glad that you were standing with your back to Joel, making him coffee. Ellie was probably going to give him hell.

"That's none of your business, kid." Joel grumbled.

"I hope you're wrapping yourself up, because I'm not going to babysit your kids." she added. "You have to be a fucking responsible adult, Joel."

"Can you... Fuck!"

You quickly turned around and put the cup of coffee in front of him, giving him a gentle smile. Ellie looked at both of you and shook her head.

"I think I'll go now." she said, standing up and putting the last piece of toast in her mouth. "The atmosphere is getting stuffy."

"It's not getting stuffy at all." Joel replied, but she was already putting on her jacket.

"Wrap yourself up!"

"Ellie!"

The girl smiled at him widely, seeing that she hit all the soft spots and quickly gathered her things. Soon the front door slammed and her footsteps echoed on the porch.

"Don't be mad at her, she loves to tease you." you said seeing Joel roll his eyes "She was happy to see me here this morning."

"The house was empty without you, she wasn't the only one who missed your presence."

He walked up to you, his hands resting on your waist. You were wearing some of your old clothes and he wished it was yesterday's dress. You looked so good in it.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said.

"Me too." you replied stroking his cheek, he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly and you smiled "Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

"Come back here." Joel interrupted you, a small wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows "Move back here. I don't want another morning without you, it was torture."

"Joel..." your lips lightly brushed his "Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't..."

"I'm fucking sure. Listen, I've wasted a lot of time. I don't want to do this anymore. When you left..." he sighed as if he remembered something really bad "It wasn't just this house that was empty, you know."

"I felt the same way. I was hurt, but I couldn't stop thinking about you or Ellie. You're all I have."

"So come back to us. To me. Please..."

Your smile was the answer he needed. He leaned in, kissing you hard. That day, he felt like he was finally alive.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[starboye]

starring: alexander "konig" kilgore x male reader

request: just thinking about innocent naive reader getting corrupted and not even noticing a single thing because he just want to be a good friend. . .

warnings: smut + angst, yander!konig, kinda obsessive, handjob

konig was such a good friend to you, he would never do anything to hurt such a pretty thing like you and plus you were both best friends so nothing was ever kept a secret between you two, so imagine konigs' face when you announce you have a date with some guy.

watching his face crack into a soft smile and telling you how happy he is for you but behind those eyes he was mad as hell, i mean who does this new guy think he is to try and take you from him, and it gets even worse when you come back from the date the next night and tell konig about how you loved it so much with the biggest smile on your face.

as much as he wants to feel happy for you he just cant imagine anyone else stealing him from you so he makes up a lie "i don't know about him y/n" he blankly making you question him "what do you mean" you ask him "i just have a weird feeling about him" he continues looking at you with the most beautiful eyes "well what if you just get to know him" you try to give an idea but konig pipes up with "you know my gut feeling is usually always right"

and he was kinda right i mean there was that one time you had feeling for this one guy and it turned out he was actually arrested for murder, or at least that's what konig told you (he pulled some strings at the police station and got what he wanted) "well then yeah i guess i can stop seeing him" you say and within seconds konigs arms are wrapped around you and he's thanking you for trusting him.

and queue the constant run of you finding a good guy and konig coercing you to stop seeing them because he has a 'gut feeling' and you trust him, but really he just wants you all to himself, making you depend on him more and more as time goes on by telling you if you ever need help with anything to call him and you do, calling him for even the littlest inconvenience.

whether that be helping you fix something or letting you cry on his shoulder when you get layed of from your job (after he pulled a few more strings and made it seem like you were a bad employee) and offering you a room at his place since you were short on money and couldn't pay your bills.

with you moved in now he can be so much closer to you, sneaking through your things at any chance he could and whats this it seems like you need some new clothes since all yours seem to be gone (he used all of them to jerk off and now they're ruined with his cum) so he takes you to the mall, carrying all your bags as you go to every store getting all the things you want, but hm it seems you need some help trying on those pants why doesn't he help you.

"you sure you're okay with that" you ask him "yeah it's what friends are for" he says helping you but on the jeans that hugged your ass so well, it was no surprise he got a boner, it straining so hard in his pants he just needed some release "fuck baby i need your help" he groans "what's wrong konig" you asked and he moved your hand to the aching bulge in his sweatpants "please just this once" he pleaded and after some consideration you agreed, i mean it was just a one time thing between two friends right.

pulling his pants down his thick cock flops out and you immediately work on fixing it for him, his grip tightening on the top of the dressing room door, your hand rubbing back and forth on his achingly hard boner, this was like his dream, he had thought about this exact thing so much, jerked off to the thought and feel of it but the real things is so much better than he hand.

"fucking shit y/n" he muttered before cumming on your hand, thick load messing up your hand as he let out shuddering breaths, and after that it became a regular thing, konig being all needy and asking you to come help him get off since you did it best (in reality you weren't the best at it but don't worry he'll train you soon enough).

and time after time it seemed you liked it more and more to the enjoyment of konig, maybe just a few more times and you'll tell him how you've had feeling for him to right?

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[warblogs17282]

I''m busy thinking about how this part of the episode is supposed to directly mirror what's already happened in the show.

Ignoring the obvious s1 e1 reference, let's start with the backstory behind this hit.

Something that this show makes very clear is that she is supposed to represent Stella, for multiple reasons that I will point out in this post.

Instantly starts out with ex-husband, just like with Stella and Stolas.

The next line proceeds to mention daughters, which is obviously the show planting the seeds for the scene yet to come, the Stolitz family scene. The daughters are very clearly supposed to represent Octavia and Loona.

Plus, the whole 'Can't stand my ex-husband enjoying himself' thing is also supposed to mirror Stella in a way, because guess who else purposefully went out of their way to ensure that their husband/ex-husband never was able to truly enjoy himself.

"When he fucking left me for another man!", when he left me for another man who was able to show him actual, true happiness. Just like how Blitz did just that for Stolas.

I also really want to note Blitz's and Stolas' reactions to all of this, for Blitz, even though he knows almost nothing about Stella, you can already tell he's put some pieces together and realized 'oh shit, this is sounding extremely similar to what happened between me and Stolas.', especially considering the way he looked over at Stolas when she finished talking there.

Which explains why Blitz looks so nervous and trying to talk her out of carrying through with the hit, before just outright denying the request, because it hits way too close to home for him as well. With the next thing she says after this scene pictured below just nailing the similarities home to Blitz.

As for Stolas' reaction, you can tell even before this moment that he's also realized just how similar the whole situation is to his own, and that detail tells us that Stolas isn't just talking about the person the client wants dead, but also himself.

Stolas thinks he's selfish for choosing to be with Blitz, Stolas thinks that he deserves death because of his 'selfish' choice to be with Blitz. Stolas likely thinks at that moment that he deserved to be killed by Striker for his 'selfish' choice.

And well, the show definitely doubles down on showing us just how evil the client is, just like Stella.

Then we get to the moment where every single similarity undeniably falls into focus for Blitz. Blitz doesn't see a random gay couple with two daughters he's been paid double to assassinate a member of, he sees himself, he sees Stolas, and their own respective daughters all in the same room as each other, he sees his dreams for the future with Stolas, and their daughters.

He sees a future of domestic bliss with the four of them, the future he's hoping he can achieve some day.

And because of all of these similarities between the family and Blitz himself, he cannot bring himself to ruin a happy family, can't bring himself to ruin what they have, can't bring himself to ruin what Blitz dreams for, can't bring himself to kill the person he envisions as Stolas, and can't bring himself to ruin the family that he envisions as his own as well.

Plus, Blitz would never be able to truly forgive himself if he took that shot, if he killed that man and ruined the family Blitz places himself in. Blitz would see himself as being no better than Striker if he did take the killing shot.

Because, let's compare s2 e4 and this episode for a second.

"Ex-wife hires assassin to kill their ex-husband with a daughter for extremely evil and selfish reasons."

"Ex-wife hires assassin to kill their ex-husband with two daughters for extremely evil and selfish reasons."

Even if Blitz only understands the s2 e4 hit as "Unknown person hired assassin to kill father with a daughter for unknown reasons.", as I've pointed out before, everything about this assassination hits way too close to home for Blitz.

Blitz has probably already realized at that moment that if Striker had killed Stolas in s2 e4, all of his hopes and dreams of having a happy family with Stolas, Octavia and Loona would instantly go up in flames.

So, why would Blitz want to ruin a family that has what he hopes for in the future? Why would Blitz want to kill the person he envisions as Stolas? Why would Blitz want to kill the person he envisions as Stolas, especially when Striker almost very well killed Stolas, which would've ruined the dream Blitz has that we see here if Striker had succeeded?

What I'm getting that with this is simple, the client represents Stella, the ex-husband represents Stolas, the daughters represents Octavia and Loona, and Blitz represents Striker.

But Blitz isn't Striker, Blitz could've very well chosen to be play the role of Striker and kill that ex-husband, ruining the family as a result for some money, but he didn't, Blitz saw the happy gay couple and their daughters, saw himself in it, and decided the money wasn't worth it, stopping himself or anyone else in the team from taking that killing shot, because Blitz simply refused to play the role of Striker, Blitz played his own role, which is himself.

Blitz is not Striker, and I feel like this moment goes to show even further that Blitz and Striker are supposed to be narrative foils to each other.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Sweet like chocolate

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 23

Prompt: Hot Chocolate

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Vampire Eddie; Bloodbank Steve; Sexual Tension; Blood Drinking; Pining; Eddie has a crush on Steve

When Eddie walks into the living room, Steve is on the sofa with two mugs sitting on the table.

“Finally,” he says. “I thought they'd get cold before you moved your broody ass down here.”

Eddie grinds to a stop.

“What the fuck?” he finally mutters, inching closer like a wild animal smelling a trap. The scent that hits him makes his stomach give a violent, empty lurch. Sweet and creamy and heavy. “What's this?” 

“Hot chocolate,” Steve replies, picking up one mug to take a generous sip. The other one, he nudges towards Eddie. “You said you used to like it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly. “Used to. That's the problem, Steve.” 

He did. He used to love hot chocolate. The sweet, rich taste of it, the whipped cream and marshmallows on top. It used to be one of his favorite things in the world. 

And then he died. 

Which blows on so many levels, really. He can't go out in the sunlight, he's always freezing, and he must’ve given himself approximately two dozen accidental lip and tongue piercings before he figured out how to draw in the fucking fangs.

But the absolute worst part are his newly acquired dietary needs. 

So yeah. Maybe he's been a bit grouchy about it. Which probably isn't entirely fair to Steve.

After all, the guy has not only opened his home to him, offering him a place to lie low while the rest of the Party figure out this unfortunate situation. He's also been offering so much more.

“I thought we might try something,” Steve's voice tears him from his thoughts. When he pats the free spot next to him, the collar of his sweater slips, revealing the never-quite-fading bruise on his neck. “Sit?” 

Eddie does. He doesn't think Steve realizes how much he'd do, simply because he asked. Steve takes another long sip from his mug, then gestures for Eddie to take the other one. There's a thin film of whipped cream on his upper lip, and Eddie finds he needs to look away. 

“What are you trying to do?” he mutters at the little marshmallows in his cup. It's warm as he takes it and cradles it between his cold hands. His fingers never seem to get warm anymore. “Tease me? You know I can't drink this.” 

“I know,” Steve confirms. “But you can pretend.” 

Eddie wrinkles his brow at him. 

“You know how you told me that you can sort of … tell when I've had lots of sweet or spicy stuff to eat?” Steve asks. The bruise on his neck darkens as he blushes, just a little. “How the taste is different? I thought we could- … I know it’ll probably not be the same, but…” 

He trails off and averts his eyes, suddenly bashful, and that’s the exact moment it clicks into place for Eddie. 

“You want me to feed while you drink this? Like what, second-hand hot chocolate?” 

Steve snorts, blush darkening. “Yeah, nevermind, it was a stupid idea.”

He makes to get off the sofa, but Eddie holds him back with a hand around his wrist. He’s absurdly strong, these days, but he’s learning how to control it. 

“It’s not stupid,” he blurts before Steve can say anything else. “I… It might work, but …Are you sure?” 

Steve smiles. “Sure, why not? You feed from me all the time.” 

But not like this, Eddie wants to say. Not all soft and cozied up on the sofa, with the lights low and hazy, Steve's warmth bleeding into his own, cold skin. Not like it is anything other than a strict necessity. Not like it means anything. 

“Yeah,” he hears himself mutter. His body develops a mind of its own, inching towards that warmth, that thrum, as if pulled on an invisible string. “Yeah, you're right.” 

“Right,” Steve says. He, too, sounds just a little breathless. He takes another long gulp of his drink, throat bobbing, and Eddie feels his fangs slide out and saliva gather on his tongue, hunger coiling low in his stomach like a living thing. And then, Steve puts down his mug and leans back, baring that perfect long neck, and the hunger explodes into pure, primal want.

He's in Steve’s lap before he even knows he moved, fangs piercing the familiar spot. Steve's taste floods his senses, sweet and rich and heavy, and so, so addictive. He moans, and Steve’s pulse kicks against his lips. Steve has gone perfectly still - bar for the light hitch of his breath, the barely there stutter of his heart, the minute twitch of his fingers in Eddie’s hair, almost like he's trying to draw him closer. Almost like he's enjoying this. 

It's torment, forcing himself to pull back, but Eddie does it. For a few seconds, they sit and stare at each other, jagged breaths mingling in the space between them. 

“Good?” Steve asks. His pupils are large and fuzzy, his lips pick and lightly parted, still with traces of whipped cream clinging to them. Eddie wonders if his body would reject it if he licked it off. 

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers. “Yeah, great.” 

The mug is still in his hands, warmth seeping into his fingers, his arms, his blood. He leans in. 

And the walkie on the table crackles alive. 

“Steve? Eddie?” says Dustin’s voice. “Do you copy? We've got something you should see.” 

Eddie groans as Steve slips out from under him and stands. 

“Hey, don't pout,” Steve says, taking the walkie. “Maybe it's a lead on how to turn you back. Let's go check it out. I can make more hot chocolate once we get back.” 

Then, he's gone, talking to Dustin on the walkie while he runs off to get his car keys. Eddie stays on the sofa until he comes back and throws his jacket in his face.

For the first time in weeks, he isn't cold anymore. 

More holiday drabbles

[cherrynflowergarden]

જ⁀➴ this is why we can't have nice things || matt sturniolo

sturniolo masterlist taglist

the kitchen smelled of ginger and cinnamon as matt stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, carefully squeezing icing onto a gingerbread wall. she was beside him, painstakingly placing little candy decorations in a neat line.

“alright, what’s the plan here?” matt asked, glancing at the pile of candy she insisted on using. “we’re making a cute little house,” she said, voice laced with determination. “it’s a gingerbread mansion with the amount of candy you bought, darling.” he teased, smirking as he popped a gumdrop into his mouth.

before she could respond, chris barged into the kitchen, a can of pepsi in hand. “yo, what are you guys doing? trying to win a baking competition or something?”

“trying to build a house,” matt replied, emphasizing trying as the roof he’d just placed slid off.

chris laughed, leaning against the counter. “you need my expert advice?” “not unless you want icing in your hair,” matt shot back playfully, though there was a serious glint in his eyes.

nick appeared next, his curiosity piqued by the commotion. “what’s going on? oh, this is gonna collapse in like two seconds.”

“it’s not collapsing,” she protested, glaring at him as she added a little green wreath to the front door. “it’s going to be perfect.”

nick raised an eyebrow. “define perfect.”

“nick, go away,” matt muttered, though he was grinning now, caught between annoyance and amusement.

nick didn’t leave, of course. instead, he grabbed a piece of gingerbread from the “extra” pile and started munching. “i’m just saying, this isn’t very structurally sound.”

chris grabbed the icing bag from matt. “i’ll show you how it’s done.”

ten minutes later, the kitchen was a disaster zone. icing was everywhere—on the counter, on the floor, and somehow even in nick’s hair. candy was scattered like confetti, and the gingerbread house was leaning precariously to one side.

chris stood back, proudly admiring his handiwork. “i think it adds character.”

“you mean chaos,” nick muttered, wiping icing off his sleeve on chris’ shirt to which the later yelled about.

matt sighed, looking at the mess with his hands on his hips. then he turned to his girlfriend, a smirk tugging at his lips. “at least it’s better than the one they’d make on their own.”

“definitely,” she agreed, laughing as she swiped some icing onto matt’s cheek. “hey!” he grabbed a handful of flour and dusted it over her head in retaliation, making her squeal. nick and chris watched the madness unfold, both shaking their heads.

“this is why we can’t have nice things.” chris said, grinning.

an; heh the title doesn't match at all but it's okay :3 it's 24 dec for me so enjoy this little christmas gift from meeeee i have more ideas and i might just post them :)

tags; @eirianna @thebasicbiatch @katamcauley @wxnyzie @lilmear-blog @vrlixlia @star-fuck-off @embonbon @idkversace @annawilk @r0nnsblog @weluvwbb @c1ydessturniolo @vintagebishx @maddie-bell @timmdmdm @happydiplomatshepherdspy-blog @crispycitrus @faith-f1 @escapentropy @florscons @carlossainzwho @luckylampzonkland @lewisroscoelove @mudryklover @rageshots @dontworryaboutit007 @chair-things @myangelbaby555 @sheesh1311 @f1lovely @silia1raf @blahbel668 @my-dinos-life-is-good @ssturniolo92 @lilly6110 @lou-larcher5 @arminluvrr @mxryxmfooty @gabri3la-sturns @bellsboops @f1-and-shiz @emely9274 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @unx100to @strnlslut

@mattslovergirlie @sarakpalsd @sweetobservationface @shadowthesim @mattslolita @cupiidk1lls @urloveanaa @t1llysblog @meatball10 @fiowerbeds

[oddyseye]

Let’s talk about translations of the Odyssey for a second, because, honestly, I’m over here sobbing over how ridiculous some of these choices are.

Every time I pick up a new translation, I hope it’ll finally capture the true grit and messiness of Odysseus, but nope, every one of them polishes him up too much, turning him into either a tragic hero or a charming rogue. Where’s the Odysseus who lies as easily as he breathes, who manipulates his way through every encounter, and who leaves a trail of ruin wherever he goes? I want the man whose brilliance is as sharp as his selfishness, whose cleverness cuts both ways — not just a hero, but a survivor who’s as flawed as he is formidable.

Anyway, I’m gonna break down the biggest mistranslations that really make me want to pull my hair out and remind everyone how different the original Greek actually is. Prepare yourselves.

Let’s start with the absolute disaster that is Telemachus and Peisistratus’ bond. Homer used the word ὁμοφροσύνη to describe their relationship, a term that’s about fucking soulmates, alright? But what do these translators do? They water it down to “just good friends” or “nice companions.” It’s about a relationship where minds and hearts are aligned — telepathic level shit, not just a handshake between two dudes. Yet these translators just gloss over the whole thing, so you get this milquetoast version of their relationship when it’s actually so much more.

Homer says: "ὁμοφροσύνησιν ἐνὶ καρδίᾳ ἐνθα καὶ ἄλλων οὐδὲν ἐπέλθομεν" ("In like-mindedness of heart, where no other man could compare.") So, Telemachus sees Peisistratus as someone he’s totally aligned with, in a way that’s almost romantic in its depth. ὁμοφροσύνη is usually used for romantic couples most often.

Then, we’ve got Odysseus and Calypso, which — oh my god, don’t even get me started on this absolute trainwreck of a translation. The term ἀνάγκῃ is used when Homer talks about Odysseus’ “relationship” with Calypso, but translators somehow miss the force behind the word. It doesn’t just mean “necessity” like they’d have you think. It means force, violence, and distress. When Odysseus is on Calypso’s island, stuck there with her, it’s not this peaceful love story where Odysseus is some willing lover. It’s a prison. There’s no choice, and no one’s riding off into the sunset together. But translations just gloss over this desperation and make it sound so much more peaceful and comfortable than it ever was. It’s forced captivity, and the use of ἀνάγκῃ screams that: “ἔνθα μὲν ἀμφ᾽ ἀνάγκῃ, τῇ δὲ θεὰ ἐρῶσά μιν ἔσχε.” (“There he stayed out of necessity, for the goddess, in her love, held him there.”).

Homer uses the same word when Odysseus describes his time with Circe: “ἀλλ᾽ ἔμεν᾽ ἐν σπέσσι λαῶν ἀνάγκῃ.” (“But I stayed in her halls by necessity.”). Again, ἀνάγκῃ shows that Odysseus's relationship with Circe is dictated by forces beyond his control. His connection to her isn’t out of love or desire, but out of a divine obligation, a situation where choice is completely stripped away. It’s not love; it’s divine manipulation. So much for romantic freedom!

And let’s not forget how Homer actually portrays the suitors and their reaction to Antinous’ violence. After Antinous, in his full rage, decides to throw a chair at disguised Odysseus, other suitors chime in, disapproving of his actions. They say things like “ἀργὸς εἶναι,” which roughly translates to “you’re acting cowardly,” and “ἀτασθαλία,” meaning “reckless.” They’re still on the same side, sure, but they can’t quite get behind the utter savagery of his actions, and it’s maddening how this detail is often glossed over in some translations. They make it sound like they were all in on the violence, but in the original text, these suitors are not all cut from the same brutal cloth, no matter how much some translators want to make them seem like one big mob.

Homer uses the word οἰκέτες to refer to the people in Odysseus' house. "οἰκέτες" means slaves, people who are literally owned by the household. But oh, what happens in the translations? We get “maids” and “servants,” as if these slaves were just there because they wanted to be, doing chores like it was a normal job. But no, they’re not “maids,” and they sure as hell aren't "servants" in the modern sense. These people have no freedom — they belong to Odysseus. The translation of οἰκέτες as "maids" completely erases the brutality of the system that Homer is talking about.

Interestingly, Telemachus, who is often portrayed as rude or immature, calls these individuals “servants” or "maids" in a more respectful manner. This is the same guy who can barely get his act together most of the time, but here he is, calling the οἰκέτες — slaves, remember — not just slaves but “ἄνδρες ἰκέτες,” which translates to "men-servants" or “butlers.” Like, hello, Telemachus! For once, he’s actually treating them like people instead of just the property that they are in Homer’s original telling. Respectful? Who knew?

And lastly, let’s talk about Penelope. Odysseus, when he finally speaks to her, he says: "ἀλλὰ μὴ ἐπεὶ καὶ σὺ μὲν ἔμπεδος ἐν οἴκῳ, ἔτλησαν δ’ ἐμαὶ ἄλγεα." ("But you, steadfast in your home, endured my sorrows."). Odysseus sees Penelope as the rock, the one who has suffered patiently in his absence. Unlike the goddesses, she’s his equal in suffering, not a forced relationship due to divine will. He longs for her, and her presence stands in stark contrast to the chaotic, imposed relationships he’s had with Circe and Calypso. Penelope is the constant, the one Odysseus has chosen — no divine manipulation, just pure, enduring love.

Anyway, all of this goes to show that translations can twist what Homer was actually trying to say — especially when it comes to the relationships in the story. It’s frustrating to see these critical, subtle moments get flattened into bland, palatable phrases. Maybe if they spent less time trying to make everything sound "noble" and more time actually getting at the grit of what Homer wrote, we wouldn’t have to deal with these watered-down, emotionless versions of The Odyssey that everyone is so obsessed with.

[runninriot]

A Christmas Wish Come True

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 25

prompt: Christmas | rated: G | wc: 1.000 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, found family, strangers to lovers

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+ bonus epilogue)

“So, wanna tell me about your little side gig as grandpa, Wayne?”

It was meant as a joke but his voice sounds angrier than he intended and it makes Eddie instantly feel bad.

   “I’m sorry. It’s just- why haven’t you told me?”

   “Look, that kid, Robbie, she only has her dad. And Steve is doing his best raising her all alone but- you know how me met? I’d just gotten off work, drove by his house and saw him sitting there on the front porch, looking like he was two seconds away from a mental breakdown. That man was a mess and he needed someone to take him by the hand. So, I reached out mine and he took it.”

He scrubs a hand over his chin, a habit he always has when he’s deep in thoughts.

   “I wanted to tell ya, I just didn’t find the right moment. And I was a little worried you’d have a problem with it. I know you had a thing for that boy back in high school and I didn’t know if you guys had ever been... close, so-“

   “No, no! Back up, Wayne. What?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in shock. It’s not like he ever had to hide the fact that he likes guys – Wayne always knew, always accepted Eddie for all he is. But never, not once, did he mention his stupid infatuation with Steve. There’s no fucking way his uncle knew.

   “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Every single piece of paper lying around your mess of a room had a little heart with Steve’s name on it.”

    Oh, right.

   “Okay, I give you that but why would you think we’ve been like, together? Even you must see how ridiculous that is. Have you looked at the man?”

Eddie bites his tongue before he says something like ‘He’s way too perfect to be with someone like me’. Wayne doesn’t need to know that he’s still got heart eyes for Steve and he already said too much.

   “Yeah, I saw. I also heard how he talked about you. How he got all soft when he talked about all the mischief you were up to in high school. That cost me all my hair by the way, so thanks for that.”

Wayne laughs and Eddie would too, if he wasn’t so confused right now.

   “Whether you knew it or not, that boy liked you. And seeing you two today, I’m pretty sure you still have that in common. You are both so bad at hiding it.”

Their conversation did not mess Eddie up. It didn't, okay? And he's definitely not nervous when he opens the door for Steve and Robbie to come in, right on time for Christmas dinner.

It doesn't make him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin when Steve takes the seat next to him, so close their knees occasionally touch.

And it doesn't cause a full-body shiver when their hands accidentally brush while reaching for the same bread.

It's fine. Everything is fine. Wayne doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing between them. No sparks, no fire, no longing glances. They’re just two small families celebrating Christmas together. Nothing more.

That's why, when Eddie excuses himself to have a smoke outside after dinner, and Steve follows him, he doesn't think much of it.

But of course, reality always comes crashing in. And when Steve huddles closer, stands right next to him, sharing his cigarette like that’s normal, Eddie can’t take it anymore.

   “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, trying hard to control the tremble in his voice.

   “Wayne thought you and I were, you know, a thing in high school. That’s why he didn’t tell me about meeting you.”

Eddie laughs but it sounds fake, and for a long moment, all Steve does is look at him, eyes piercing like they’re trying to see into Eddie’s soul.

   “Mhm, very funny,” he then says but doesn't sound amused at all.

   “No, it really is, because I had the biggest crush on you back then."

Eddie swallows, looks, waits. Doesn't know what for because it feels like anything could happen.

   "Had?" It almost sounds like a tease but Eddie can sense that Steve's nervous.

   "Would it be bad if it was still true?" Eddie asks, unsure of where this is going.

   "Depends.” Steve answers, a tentative smile on his lips, “Would it be bad if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Eddie isn't sure if he's still breathing and if his heart's still beating because the world is spinning too fast and-

His lips are on Steve's, testing, pressing, and there are hands in his hair, and the night becomes day, and everything feels right, feels good, feels like something finally clicks into place.

They kiss until their lungs hurt, kiss some more after a giggle fit. Kiss again until the door opens and Robbie is standing before them with wide eyes.

   "Oh, sh-oot! Hey, baby! Sorry, Eddie and I were just-"

   "Thank you, Santa!" Robbie yells against the sky and Eddie's heart explodes.

The worry on Steve's face makes way for confusion and Eddie feels bad for cheating because contrary to Steve, he's in on Robbie's secret.

   "Grandpa Wayne said to tell you we're having hot chocolate and cookies for dessert."

   "We'll be right there," Eddie answers for Steve, who still seems a little frozen in place.

Once the door closes behind her, Steve releases a shaky breath.

   "That- did not go like I thought it would."

For a moment, Eddie worries Steve's going to take it back. That the shock broke him out of whatever spell he was under.

But Steve kisses him again, before taking his hand to lead them back inside, where Wayne greets them with a smug smile. Eddie can practically hear the 'I told you so' but that's okay.

He's happy Wayne was right.

Happy that a little girl's wish aligned so perfectly with his own.

A Christmas wish come true.

[insanescriptist]

Flip the Script

Escaping the hotel itself was pretty easy; just walk out. Blended in -which honestly Dan did a lot better at that than Jason expected, because metas usually weren't stealthy unless their abilities could be used for it. Sure they were still two big guys, but a deceptively casual walking pace got them out faster than expected. Thank fuck that computers had upgraded, so his little tablet tucked into his jacket was really all that was needed to hack hotel security.

Except a little miscalculation made itself known in the form of how damn hot it was as Jason headed to where he had parked his vehicle for the trip -riding his bike to Vegas by itself would be a little more stupid than Jason allowed himself to be- so he had a little pick-up truck that his bike was chained down in. A couple blocks away. He wasn't going to park on the Vegas Strip. The expense would be ridiculous.

"You got anything you need to pick up?

"Other than my winnings later?" Dan rolled his eyes.

"Travel light sort of guy. Gotcha." Jason built up his mental profile. Rule of thumb, the more dangerous the meta, the less they had to carry. The more dangerous the normal squishy person, the bigger their arsenal. Not always true, but Superman and Batman were excellent examples of this. Wonder Woman was an excellent example of someone beyond human norms using a couple of tools to augment their capabilities. And then sometimes someone really just needed one tool to do everything, like the Lanterns with their rings.

Initially Jason had planned to rent the same room as his longshot of a lead, so as to scan for clues that might still be there three weeks later. However his earlier work had shown it was currently occupied. A little digging into who had rented it shown it was a honeymoon rental -thank you social media- and his attempt at killing time till the honeymooners left -an itinerary posted to all who cared to look on their socials for fuck's sake, someone please rob them- got busted by Ollie. Might as well consider that lead dead too.

It was Vegas after all, where leads went to die.

Jason continued to listen in on the local JL chatter -Flash and Raven trading comedic jabs as Nightwing finished examining the corpses and coordinating with the LEOs, and O got stuck with identifying them- as he and Dan meandered into a little bougie store a little off the street for drinks -Jason wanted boba tea and Dan got a chocolate milkshake like a basic bitch- and then it was enjoyed on the cafe's second floor as Jason found alternate arrangements for a place to stay. He wasn't going to crash in a Wayne Enterprises paid for Bat safehouse. Not with someone he didn't know. So he was looking for a couple covers to delay Bruce with. Yay wifi on his tablet.

Justice League bullshit was cramping his style, so he couldn't just avoid everyone; no doubt Bruce found it suspicious as fuck he was here at all. No telling what he had said to get Ollie to come seek him out. And here Jason was hanging out with an unknown (read: dangerous) meta. That was bound to raise Bruce's hackles.

"Got any preference for where you're staying, if you're staying in Vegas?"

"Four walls, a roof, running hot water and decent food."

"A man of simple tastes."

"Housing discrimination." Dan says, which was something that had Jason blink.

"Huh. Any other discrimination I should be wary about if I book a room for each of us or a double bed?"

"Going to want to take before and after photos because the scummier ones will claim damage from a meta guest, for the insurance pay-out. Somehow people think I'd burn my pillows and the bed. And the whole room. For Funsies."

Well, okay then. Maybe Jason should use a safehouse then. He didn't want to because Batman was also in town but well. Hmm. Which one to crash? Couldn't crash the Arrow's safehouse they had in the town south of Vegas. Not with Ollie in town. Perhaps one of the League's safehouses? Not with Bruce on his bullshit.

Oh, that was Barbara opening a chat window on his tablet. He'd open that in a bit.

"Pretty sure that the Meta Protection Acts are supposed to make such shit illegal by granting them the same rights as minorities and protections as those disabled but well, illegal doesn't stop people from doing it."

"Never mind that in 'proving' you're a meta, you're also liable to be charged with anything those with means can make stick, if your powers can be dangerous. From assault to insanity. Because in proving you've got powers, you've also proven yourself a possible threat to the community that cannot be disarmed and may not be able to be contained. And since you've now proven you can go against the local powers, legitimate authority or not, with your own powers presumably in ways that cannot be easily countered they really wish to make use of you or be rid of you."

Jason really hoped that Babs was eavesdropping; the tablet did have a microphone to listen to voice commands, even if he never used that feature; it would be child's play to have it listen in and block the notification about the change of settings. He opened the chat. Oh boy, what confirmation that Batman cared more about Red Hood's potential criminal activities than the possible Trigon level magical event. Pair that with the JL chatter and...

Ghosts huh.

No wonder Jason felt comfortable around Dan. One formerly dead guy to a current dead guy. Jason was actually kind of admiring the guy's chill; get summoned to Vegas from the afterlife? Rude as fuck. Jason would be in a mood. And since Dan wasn't gawking at cars, phones or milkshakes, he was likely recently dead.

"Got a last name I could put down on a booking, once I find one? Just need something and if I do it, it's going to be stupid or a name from some classic novel."

Dan played with the straw as he sucked up the last of his chocolate shake. Play for time or more focused on his milkshake? "Nightingale will work."

"Sounds fake."

"Historical. Go back far enough on the family tree."

There Babs, be happy. More information to try and find the guy with. Hopefully it was just like great-grandma's maiden name or something even further back. Because by now she'll have pulled his face off the cameras and run him through all the data bases she can hack into. Because yes, Batman is having her look for him instead of 'how to banish ghosts.' Since the JLD is dealing with the ghost and Nightwing is focusing on the remains of the cultists. So Oracle and her software can identify them.

Multi-tasking and all that.

O: take a safehouse I have in Vegas for the birds O: coordinates <here> J: why should I? O: security; I'll send a friend over J: which friend? O: Canary and her son O: the one you like J: still gonna bluff out a smokescreen

And so Jason blew his metaphorical budget. Except no, he was not. Last minute cancellations got switched to "his" reservations in various hotels. Would it fool a determined Oracle? No, especially not as she was already in his tablet and phone but it would give her rope to hold out and make B skip through. Especially as Jason had fun with the names; Jason Peters, Peter Willis, Jay Robins. The usual "I'm actually terrible at fake names," that the Bats seemed to think of him. Then the less terrible ones like Pete Fox and Jace Lynn Todders. Still equally terrible, but at least more subtle. Still going to get picked up by anyone half competent searching his common variations of his name up. Then there's the more obscure ones he made up on the spot. William Beats, Paul Cox Zucker, Randy Darner-

O: Dick jokes? J: Dick jokes O: (눈_눈) J: ┐(︶▽︶)┌

"More stalker fruitloop family trouble?" Dan asked cradling his chin in his hands, elbows and body leaned on the table. The body language said interested but the face said Dan was full of supervillain mockery if he wanted to.

"Got a friend to help run interference. Knows things are complicated."

"Complicated he says. As if the asshole in the cheese suit's vibes weren't of the controlling asshole type. Good friends with your trouble. That's even more trouble."

"Friends of a sort." Jason hedges. Bruce has people he's friendly with, but Ollie usually isn't one of them.

"Rich people friends, where they're useful to each other and cover for each others for dubiously legal hobbies. Up to and including the potential abuse and exploitation of their charges. Bet he's got a weird basement of a man-cave."

Jason choked on his drink. That wasn't an inaccurate take on things. Green Arrow really only got on the Justice League radar because of Roy inventing the trick arrows and running communications/tech support before he was even Speedy the sidekick. Which being Green Arrow and thus a vigilante was a dubiously legal hobby. More to the point, Green Arrow and therefore Ollie should be paying royalties to the patent of said trick arrows. Instead Ollie took Roy in as a ward who became Speedy, failed to support his side kick and kicked him out at a low point in Roy's life. Which was textbook exploitation. And the Arrow-cave was basically Queen's man-envy of the Batcave, but still qualified as a weird basement.

O: |ω･)ﾉ J: gonna take D with me tho O: if you're sure O: ( ＾▽＾)っ✂╰⋃╯ J: (°ロ°) ! J: Not that D! He's N! As in NO!

Not Dickwing! Dan!

"So why so much interest in you? And not your siblings?"

Hmm, don't lie Jason. Be honest, without being too honest. If Dan could read Ollie's vibes that accurately, he's had plenty of time to read yours. "Local rich guy picked me up off the streets after his first adopted boy moved out. He was lonely and didn't wanna admit it, and I wanted a place to call home again. He wanted his older boy back, since that bridge was burnt at the time. Which was fine when I was smaller, noticed that less, but I got to high school, took control of my education, was passing my accelerated courses, taking AP classes on most of my subjects and doing a few college classes on the side? All that school work and I still found time to help out in the community. Food pantries and such. Meanwhile, he's now somehow thinking I've got the reasoning capability and motivations of an eight year old child, because I had learned my biological father had passed on ages ago, so we're obviously arguing about seemingly everything. Patronizing as fuck."

"While you're in high school and taking college level classes?"

"Exactly. Not just STEM classes but literature and philosophy. Rhetoric. Getting the gen eds over and done with. On track to graduate high school before seventeen and getting an undergrad degree before I'd be nineteen. It was less about my dad being dead and more about rich asshole not telling me that my dad was dead. Followed by the patronizing shit, because he's suddenly acting like I'm a small grieving child, not a teenager who was a caretaker to his mom when she was in and out of the hospital before he was double digits. I know how to manage my grief. Especially that of a parent dying. Dad at least died quick. Caretaking means you get to see the decline up close and personal. It's a crash course in adulting and I took care of her, the apartment and the bills because she couldn't. Not physically, nor mentally by the end. No matter the medication or the drugs. Did it suck that he was dead? Yeah. Did I already know so and got my suspicions confirmed? Also yes. If I could survive on the streets after my mom's death, I could survive the confirmation that he's dead."

"Broken trust, and grieving that more than someone who defined your life more by his absence than his presence."

"Bingo. So now I'm thinking about pulling what my now older brother did and moving out early, before local rich asshole kicks me out and cuts me off, but I've got less friends than he did and those I had all had circumstances of their own." Jason shrugs. Sure, he was never the friendliest, but he wasn't friendless. His friends lives just happened to also suck. Fellow orphans in truth or practically such with their parents being who they were. Eddie and Rose as examples one and two. Then there was Barbara, who was also going through shitty circumstances. Who had just been crippled. Couldn't hide out at the Commish's place when Barbie was rightfully his number one priority. Didn't wanna intrude there. "My best option for space had just been traumatically paralyzed. My second best option was my adoptive older brother, who was traveling with friends. They all pitched in on a place and were in and out on trips when they could afford it. On one hand, empty place to myself when they weren't there and on the other, a number of people I wasn't close to would be in my space, watching the local rich guy's adopted child drama play out, the sequel. The third factor there was I was still fifteen."

Jason tapped at his cup and downed the last of his boba. "Laws had changed a bit, so I had to consider that, factoring in that I was younger than his first boy when properly moving out, instead of just lots of sleepovers at friends. A flag that people ignored because the older boy was just that outgoing. There's further consideration because rich men always have the money to bend the law to their side. So it was a waiting game if I went that way. Which couch surfing, short term it's not the end of the world, but it's annoying and better than the streets. Which honestly, the streets weren't that bad but it's the loneliness that gets to you and I wanted to keep up with the friends I had. Be there when and if I can. At least be an ear to listen."

Toe the line of honesty Jason. "So the local rich guy and I get into our biggest argument yet and I take a walk, talk to old neighbors and such. Scout out what I'd need to prepare for if I decided to take to the streets once more, couch-surf or get kicked out; whichever happens first. Then I discover my biological mother's actually alive; that I had been raised by my father and step-mom. Both had perished before local rich asshole picked me up. Local child services was absolutely a shitshow, so running to the streets was the better option than that. Since the arguments between me and the local rich guy are getting worse, I reach out to meet her. Travel all the way over to the refugee camp she was a volunteer doctor at, because local rich asshole hadn't cut me off yet, like he had my older brother at one point. I get to know her for all of a few hours before she gets murdered and I get seriously injured in a terrorist attack. Local rich guy obviously thinks I'm dead. Later, after some serious veg time, surgeries and healing, I reach back out and he's been freaking out ever since. Which purposeful. Somewhat. Got pissed at where I'd been 'laid to rest,' for reasons," and Jason still hated mahogany wood because it was not a soft wood to dig through, "and how he had taken in another kid that looked similar but from a better economic class than dirt-poor before even a year was up. More impressively fucked is that he blamed me for dying, used it as a cautionary tale for the other teenagers he's amassed around himself when the point of a terrorist attack is to promote fear through death and violence. So they don't you know, run off either."

"Sounds like a genuine fruitloop problem." Jason makes a face, so Dan elaborates. "Rich stalker, poor boundaries since he can't back off, controlling tendencies and manipulative. Sounds like a fruitloop."

"Fruitloop?"

"Nuttier than a fruitcake, each psychosis feeding into each other like a mobius strip? A complete and utter creep that others are blinded to because of their wealth and charisma? Also past experiences where he was less of a creep, explained his sob story and because he passed that charisma check, everyone close gets a negative modifier for their perception checks of him. Those pretty rose color glasses making all the flags look just like flags. instead of warnings."

"Sounds like experience on your end."

"A little. Yours is still ongoing. But you said you had place to crash?"

"Yeah. Gonna crash with the friend of a friend; let her lie to the asshole that I'm not there if he happens to ask."

"That'll work?"

"It's plan A."

"And plan B?"

"Got more than just that."

Flip the Table

Casually eavesdropping on what should be highly secure frequencies, Jason sipped his beer in a sleezy saloon style sports bar somewhere on the Vegas strip, nominally watching college(?) football; he's a hockey fan because baseball's boring as shit to watch and he's never got the appeal about American football. Football to the rest of the world was at least worth watching for the drama. Something had the Justice League in a tizzy and Zatanna -the one who normally covered Vegas when it came to the costumed crazies- was off world; Jason didn't have the details exactly but it sounded like Zatanna was dealing with some magical planar stuff and was not expected back for at least six more days. Assuming all went well.

So like any reasonable person who's going away for a time, she turned on her home security, had the alerts wired over to a friend -in this case Justice League Dark- gave a list of what was needed to be done and when -the pick up my mail and mow my lawn equivalants- went on her trip, trusting that the JLD were watching over her city and it wouldn't be on fire when she got back.

Such glorious hope.

And thus something happened so when Jason pulled into Vegas proper to investigate a desperate -read last hope- lead on a missing person's case, Jason happened to spy one of the lesser members of the JLD losing their shit in the sky. And so in a moment of civic duty, Jason started spying on them.

Magic was not something anyone trained by the Bat really ever got comfortable about, but chances were magic bullshit was going to intervene in his case. Justice League shit spilled over everything, all the time. Ghost cultists tripping Zatanna's necromancy alarms or whatever they were, was not Jason's business. Not unless the presumed cultists -those that had survived- had the person he was looking for.

No, he was looking at a missing person's case and his lead was 1. cold and 2. a longshot and 3. in a city full of tourists and catering staff, where "seen anything unusual lately" could be "there was this trio of tourists arguing how sex with your best friend doesn't count as cheating," or "someone having a meltdown over the delayed shipping of organic blueberries to the hotel," or "Sarah Maria got murdered a couple weeks ago on the job, but I haven't seen any notice about her funeral stuff on her social media, why yes, I do know she's dead, oh, she's dead and I'm an idiot for expecting someone dead to post on their socials their funeral deets."

Point was, he could look and ask all he wanted, beat feet for days, but the chances of this lead panning out were basically so minuscule that Jason could treat this more as a hobby case while on vacation. He still did his due diligence, asked the staff a few questions, called the guests on the same floor during the time period of their stay about how they found their stay, ran into the dead end of shitty business practices -they recorded over their own records every two weeks- and so unless Jason got the ability to do magic and do a "point me!" spell, the case would turn cold. It sucked when it happened but sometimes the evidence wasn't there. Or wasn't noticed or was destroyed before it could be collected. Sometimes people just didn't remember shit until three weeks later, which with some follow up digging gave him the lead to the hotel. Which got him nothing after that.

As Jason Todd didn't gain an innate ability to do magic that he was aware of that actually counted as magic bullshit magic instead of a couple cantrips, all he could do was get a beer and some food in a Vegas style Texas saloon bar. Which not his first choice, but it was full enough no one really paid attention to anyone. Technically a sport's bar but also very much was not. It was also busy enough that Jason ended up getting asked if someone could set with him at his table -which real Jason said hell no to, but cover Jason did agree to-

Oh. Meta. Jason realized quickly. Oh no, he's hot.

His hair is on fire!

How did the server miss that? Most metas don't casually out themselves like that! Too many people willing to target them for whatever power.

That hair was flaming, tied back in a low tail; Jason blinked and the hair flickered color, looked like normal hair -black- and then back to white fire, then black fire, some tv static abomination of color, white hair and then black hair. Another blink and it appeared to be black flames for hair and yeah, Jason closed his eyes. Pointedly ignored the hair thing. If the meta asked, Jason was judging him for the stupid little goatee.

The rest of the meta was built along the same lines as Jason himself, tall, broad and built. Packed with muscle, which was something to make note of; metas usually were more durable and could hit harder, so Jason casually made note to not get hit if a fight broke out.

Which it might, or probably would.

That's just how Jason's luck ran. To shit.

Said meta also ordered food and a beer, didn't even get asked for ID -unfair bias- and judging by the sound, turned in the seat to look at the American football screen that Jason had been ignoring. His hair had at least settled to black flames instead of the glitchy hair.

Of course as this was Vegas, people gambled on outcomes of games too. Which is how Jason learned the meta was rich enough to blow a couple grand -not expensive in the world of supers- but more than what the average person would be comfortable betting.

There were better ways to piss away money than gambling on sports. Like on over priced burgers and onion rings with an order of mozzerella sticks. The burger was good, admittedly Jason's had better and then some party of guys was yelling at the ref on a screen. And yup, that's some altercation with another table but the barman broke it up with a couple of words.

His tablemate muttered something about the ref having made the right call if one of the players wanted to continue a career professionally and Jason used that as social leverage to get a name -Dan, no last name given- and a bit more in-depth explanation on what stakes were going on; he's a hockey guy, not a football guy.

Some time later, Dan had caught him up on the football drama -nothing compared to the hockey drama- and conversation had drifted significantly from sports, lightly touched on family -Dan had siblings he shared little about other than they existed, which fair, they could also be metas and at risk- much like Jason did -he had siblings that existed, no further details- and parents weren't mentioned. Instead a lot of engineering talk, a slide into ethics -Dan's opinion on killing super villains was very much that some people needed Ended- and some small talk about how Dan's high school English teacher cursed in classical book titles.

Soon the easy joy of potential friendship ended when his phone rang; that was the Batman ringtone and Jason felt no guilt hanging up on him. And again. And again.

Then Dick rang and nope. He was not dealing with their shit. Dick would just sweeten up whatever shit B wanted to shovel.

And then Oracle's ringtone rang. Oh, now that was serious. Justice League shit spilling into his life again. No fucking doubt about it.

"Uh-huh, so what's up? Because I gotta say, I am a couple drinks in and the whole bar is waiting for one of the football teams to fumble or foul up their next play so they can throw down."

"Jay-" She started because much like Bruce, she would rather go straight into the mission, and Jason absolutely had wrong-footed her. Because instead of making excuses to leave, Jason had absolutely stayed. So now she had to rephrase things on the fly because who knows who might be listening in. "Hey, it's on the news that the Justice League is showing up in Vegas; something about investigating something magical showing up."

"Uh-huh, that's not a surprise. There was some magic ninny flying in a panic earlier. I decided it wasn't my business."

"I hadn't heard that," -bullshit, she just hadn't double-checked that herself yet- "but what I did hear that some cult might have succeeded in bringing something over."

"Uh-huh. Well, no one's praying to Cthulu yet, there's been no troublemaking beyond the usual human malice and nothing's on fire."

"We were just concer-" And Jason hung up on Oracle.

He'd pay for that later, but petty was satisfying now.

"Sounded important."

"Was bullshit."

"So an entity summoned by a cult that tripped a bunch of magicians into a tizzy-"

Yeah, those sharp ears were not for show. Enhanced hearing check. "That's a bunch of incompetents panicking." Time for his good guess to hit or miss. "You're not going to decide to destroy Vegas, are you?"

"Done it before, doing it again seems pointlessly petty." Statements Jason wasn't going to prod further right now.

"And what if Wisconson University loses?"

"Might flip the table." Dan shrugged.

"More beer?" Jason asked.

"Sure."

[cryingpariah]

Something about Zoro being one of the most misunderstood and mischaracterized characters in One Piece is funny (not haha funny, funny sad) to me because?? That’s literally how his introduction starts?? With people misunderstanding him and thinking he’s some big, monstrous demon who kills with cause and cannot be trusted or tamed.

Meanwhile the actual Zoro is a driven guy who is often both literally and figuratively directionless in life and found his goals in life through good people (first Kuina and then Luffy). He's tied up in the Marine base not due to those actual crimes he commuted (well not inherently anyway) but because he ‘disrespected’ a Captain's son and stood up for a little girl. He accepts the challenge they present to him and because Zoro himself is a guy that puts his money where his mouth is he assumes the Marines will uphold their end of the deal and let him go (note the actual shock when Koby tells him the truth)

He joins Luffy's crew but also outright says he’s not gonna let his goal take second place to Luffy or anyone else's for that matter, he bears the weight of two people's dreams, his heart isn’t going to be swayed by some pirate.

Speaking of Kuina, her impact and influence on Zoro's life isn’t talked about enough for my liking. She was Zoro's first friend, his first rival, his first goal. He looked up to her so much and his reaction to her passing cracks my heart in half every time because you can seem him just..go numb. Kuina, dead? Kuina, the strongest person he knows, gone? Kuina, who swore to him just yesterday they’d race to the top of the world together, doesn’t exist anymore. His blank face only cracking within the privacy of his sensei before he begs. He begs on his knees, tears streaming down his face please please please let me take Kuina's sword with me. Let me take our dream to a high neither of us could imagine. I won’t let her name die here.

On top of gaining the Wado Ichimonji that day Zoro also gained…fear. Not of death, well at the very least not his own, he gained his fear of not being enough. Kuina kicked his ass every way a person could and still died, what could someone like him do? So he trains…and trains…and trains some more. Overly, obsessively, constantly telling himself he’s not enough, he’s weak, he can’t protect anyone like this and everyone's death would be on him.

As for Zoro being cold and stoic that’s just…not completely true? He’s not stone, he can be excited or sad or angry just as much as most characters he just sucks at showing it canonically (Kuina thinks he hates her before their final fight after all). Sure he’s not as forthcoming about it as some of the other Strawhats but Zoro's more of an action guy anyway, he'll show his love with his protection and unwavering faith.

In conclusion, Zoro is a ridiculously stubborn, incredibly loyal, mildly emotionally constipated, do what you say/say what you mean kinda guy.

(Also that whole ‘Zoro would kill the whole crew if Luffy asked him to’ thing? Top ten stupidest things I’ve ever heard from the fandom and that’s saying a lot. He’s loyal not brainless and heartless guys if Luffy asked him to do that, he would never but I digress, Zoro would square the fuck up with him so fast. DPMO.)