#like imagine if he backs down but only because he realizes that his only alternative is to physically fight his kids

[wandringaesthetic]

Isaré had the messy braid through most of Shadowbringers so when we met Fourchenalt and he had the same hairstyle (and. Elezen. So it actually looks similar) I had to change it immediately.

Like the one part in Fullmetal Alchemist where Hohenheim points out he and Ed have the same hair and Ed puts his back in the braid immediately. But in reverse.

[babejinxy]

In love with you - part 1

Pairing: Powder x fem!reader

Warnings: friends to lovers, SMUT, kissing, fluff 

Synopsis: Powder had been your best friend for years, the two of you met when she was running from the cops when she and her brothers broke into and blew up an apartment in Piltover and you helped them escape. What you never imagined, is that the love of your life was always right there in front of you…

A/N: This is a fic about Powder from the alternate universe, it has nothing to do with Jinx.

🌟 English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes.

The scorching heat made your hair stick to the bare skin of your shoulders, you were sitting at a table in the corner of Vender's bar so engrossed in your book that you didn't notice your best friend looking at you from across the bar leaning against the counter. She did that a lot, watching you. You were beautiful, her best friend, the love of her life, if only you knew what you meant to her...

The strap of your blouse slipped off your shoulder, you lifted it back into place with your finger and tossed your hair to the side, leaving the soft skin of your neck exposed, the silver of your expensive chain glinting in the sunlight. Powder didn't miss a single detail, she never did.

The only time you looked up from your book was to look at the new waitress - Gert - who asked if you would like to order a drink or a juice. She was clearly trying to make conversation and when you smiled at Gert, Powder felt a pang in her heart, she should be used to everyone flirting with you, everyone wanting you. She had her heart broken so many times because of your boyfriends and girlfriends and she was the one who comforted you when they broke your heart.

When you kindly said that you didn't want anything at the moment, Gert winked at you saying that if you changed your mind, just call her. You smiled and followed her with your gaze, she went behind the counter and you finally saw your best friend leaning against it. She picked up her glass of juice and started walking to where you were sitting, you noticed Ekko - who was sitting on a bench on the other side - following her with his gaze, you lowered your head and smiled a little.

“Ekko is really into you”, you said as soon as Powder sat down next to you.

“Hm…”, she shrugged as she pulled her juice with a straw, “it seems like he's the only one who's not into you”, she said, pointing at Gert with her head. She thought you might get the hint when she said he was the only one, but if you got the hint, you didn't show it. 

“Why don't you give him another chance? He's nice and he likes you, you never told me about that date with him, wasn't it nice?”, you asked looking at her.

“I... that was just a fling, Ekko is my friend, that's all... and... I'm kind of waiting for the right person”, she said a little embarrassed, not looking at you.

Powder had never had a long-term relationship with anyone, you knew she had been in relationships with girls and boys, but she never seemed to really be in love with anyone. Not that you could say you had ever really fallen in love with anyone, you had been in many relationships that never worked out for very long, but you were always dating someone, unlike Powder she didn't open up much to you about relationships and always changed the subject when you asked about her love life.

You shook your head as you laughed, “May I ask who this person is?” Powder looked into your eyes, but before she could say anything, Claggor and Mylo sat down with you, interrupting the moment. You had a fling with Claggor a while back, but he gave up on you after realizing his sister's feelings for you, even though she never admitted anything to him about you. Mylo always tried to date you, but he just wasn't your type.

“So… Y/n”, - Mylo said scratching the back of his neck, “are you going to come to the party on Saturday?”. Powder had told you about the party before, but you were the daughter of a tycoon and you had a high society party to attend - not that you liked it - and besides that you had academy work to finish. “I don’t know if…”, you started to say, but were interrupted by Claggor, “Oh come on? Don’t you think she should come Powder?”, he looked at her and then looked back at you. “I think she should come,” Gert said suddenly, winking at you as she walked past the table clearing away empty glasses. She left before anyone could say anything. Ignoring Gert, you looked at Powder, who was already looking at you and your eyes met, she was your best friend, but at that moment she seemed like something more. “Yes, she should come,” she said smiling, “admit it, we are much cooler than your rich friends.” You laughed, “I never denied that… okay, you win, I’ll come to the party…

This chapter was kind of an introduction, so it's short. Should I post part 2?? 👇🏻

[moonstruckme]

jilly x reader where the reader gets hypothermia

cw: symptoms of mild hypothermia, (implied?) freezing water, non-sexual nudity

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James half carries you back to the cabin. This is partly because you’re shivering too hard to walk as quickly as you’d like, and partly because your legs simply won’t move the way you tell them to. Your wet lashes feel heavy with the ice crystals you imagine forming on them. 

He passes you off to Lily while he unlocks the front door. She rubs one hand uselessly over your arm through your soaked coat, using the other to unstick a frigid piece of hair from your face. 

They both help you inside. Set you down on the couch, and James makes a sound close to a laugh when you protest about getting wet on his mother’s cushions. 

“Start a fire, please?” Lily is all business, panic making her stern. Or maybe not stern so much as resolved. Her features are set, green eyes alternating between worried and determined, but her hands are characteristically gentle as they unzip your coat and pull you out of it one arm at a time. 

“Love?” 

You realize she’s been talking to you. “Hm?” 

Delicate brows pinch in either concern or relief. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” 

“Oh. Um.” Your chittering makes your words come out jolting and stilted. “Cold.” 

“Tired?” she asks. You put your arms up when she motions for you to, letting her lift your jumper over your head. The thought that you’re the only one getting undressed between your partners doesn’t occur to you; you only know that Lily seems urgent, and you trust her. 

“Ye—yeah.” 

“I think we have an electric blanket around here somewhere,” says James. He’s poking at a log in the fireplace, trying to provoke a bigger flame. “Get her closer to here, love.” 

“I’m still trying to get her out of her wet clothes. Can you help me?” 

James helps you to stand so Lily can tug your trousers off. They stick to your legs but crinkle oddly, stiff with ice. James kisses your temple and murmurs something you can’t quite make out. You feel guilty for ruining what was meant to be a fun afternoon of ice skating on the pond near James’ family cabin. You’ve never heard Lily shout like she did when the ice broke beneath you. 

They wrap you up in an electric blanket and put your hair up in a towel to get it off your neck, and you let James massage warmth into your fingers while Lily makes something warm for you to drink. 

“Jamie,” she calls from the kitchen, “do you all keep a thermometer here?” 

“Um, I’m not sure,” replies James. “If we did, it’d be in one of the drawers in the bathroom.” 

You hear your girlfriend whizz off in that direction. 

“How are you, angel?” James presses a couple of firm, warm kisses to your face, squeezing your hands. “Do you still feel tired?” 

“A little,” you admit. Your shivering has lessened, though. “Is it okay that we left our skates by the pond?” 

“What?” He gives a little laugh. “Yeah, it’s fine. That’s not really the top concern right now, you know?” 

You frown. It’s supposed to snow again tonight. “I don’t want them to get buried…” 

“I’ll go get them later,” James reassures you. He kisses your nose. “Don’t worry about that, lovebug. Just try to get warm, okay?” 

“I sort of feel like you guys are doing all the work for me.” 

James’ laughs as Lily comes to sit beside you. 

“Here, can you keep this in your mouth for me, please?” You nod, but when she slips the thermometer under your tongue she evidently makes a last-minute call to hold it herself instead. Lily’s thumb drags heavily over your cheek. You notice her bottom lip looks colored and bitten. 

“I think I’m okay…” you try to tell her, but stop when she shushes you gently. 

“That’s good, lovely, but don’t talk with this in your mouth.” She gives you a terse smile. 

James transfers both of your hands to one of his, using the other to squeeze her elbow consolingly. Both of your partners watch you intently as you wait. 

When Lily deems it's been long enough and looks at the thermometer, her posture slumps with relief. 

“Oh, it’s—that’s not so bad.” 

James grins, reading over her shoulder. “It must be coming up,” he says confidently. 

You offer your girlfriend a smile. “I told you, I think I’m fine.” 

Lily makes a soft, strangled sound, eyebrows pinching in the moment before she throws her arms around you. You see some of your own surprise reflected in James’ expression as you catch her, bringing her into the heated dome of your electric blanket with you.

“I didn’t know…I was really scared,” she confesses tearily, squeezing you around your neck. 

You rub her back in an attempt to reassure her. Behind her, James is doing the same. He gets his arms around the both of you, holding your shoulders through the blanket. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We must be doing something right, yeah? Or she wouldn’t be getting better so quickly.” 

Lily exhales a shaky breath. “I am never, ever going ice skating again.” 

“Yes, you are,” you tell her fondly. 

“No. And you shouldn’t either! In fact, I hope our skates do get buried, and neither of you can ever find them.” 

You make a sound of protest, but James speaks over you, “Alright, lovely. We can let nature roll the dice tonight, if that’s what you want.” 

“But James—” 

“Angel, you weren’t witness to your own blue lips,” he tells you, rubbing your shoulder pacifyingly. “I think we’re permitted a bit of overreaction right now. I say bury the skates.” 

You give a little laugh. “You’re both taking this too far. We don’t have to use them, but there’s no reason to leave perfectly good skates out there in the snow.” 

“Mm, let’s say we return to that debate when you’re no longer shivering.” 

You all sit there for a while, holding each other while the fire crackles and warmth seeps into your fingertips. Lily’s hands are actually quite cold around your neck, but you refuse to tell her lest she spring away from you. When the kettle starts to whistle, she sniffs and pulls away anyways, wiping under her eyes. 

“I’ve got it,” says James, standing with a kiss to each of your heads. “What are we having?” 

“Hot chocolate.” She takes a breath, collecting herself. “She needs something with sugar. Thanks, Jamie.” 

You smile at her. “You’re so brilliant. How do you know that?” 

Lily’s lips tilt slightly in response. “I read it somewhere.” 

“So brilliant,” you repeat, kissing her softly on the lips. They’re noticeably warmer than yours, but you feel much more yourself than you had when you first got back to the cabin. “Thanks for helping me.” 

She makes a scoffing sort of noise. It doesn’t sound terribly derisive when it’s bent by fondness like this. Lily touches the backs of her fingers to your cheek, caressing. “You don’t have to thank us. Either of us,” she says. The tears have cleared from her eyes, leaving a raw caring in their wake. “We love you. A lot.” 

Your heart feels more than sufficiently warmed as you close the gap between you again. “I love you a lot, too.”

[iveleftitwithyou]

casual | paul lahote x reader smut

NSFW | 18+ | minors DNI | word count: 2.38k

warnings: smut, dom!paul, slight angst, mention of fighting, i think that's it?

------

i asked you guys if i should post this now or incorporate it into ruderal, and the result was overwhelmingly to post it now, so here it is with some plot adjustments! i've been OBSESSED with this song by chappell roan and knew i needed to make it into an imagine, although this song is probably about a woman lol. highly recommend listening to the song as you read this. this is my first time EVER writing smut so i hope its not too bad - as always, let me know what you think :)

ALSO this is in an alternate timeline where the guys are all like 21+ and so is y/n :)

------

Paul’s hand lingered on your thigh as he drove the winding road back to Forks, his thumb rubbing small circles on your outer leg. the radio hummed with a song you couldn’t manage to pay attention to, instead focusing your gaze on the motion of his finger on your bare thigh. while you assumed the gesture was meant to comfort you, it did a lot more than that. you hoped that the darkness would obscure Paul’s peripheral vision enough for him to not realize you were ogling his muscular arms and unusually large hands. his veins protruded in a way that drove you crazy for some reason, and as much as you were still upset with him, you couldn’t help the rush of hormones that flooded at the sight.

Embry had made some stupid joke about you at the bonfire at Emily's that night, a common occurrence when you hung out with the pack. he didn’t mean anything by it, you joked around with each other like that all the time, but Paul had been extra sensitive for the last few weeks as he spent more hours on patrol. Victoria’s looming presence and the mystery murders happening around Washington meant the reservation needed increased protection, and the men in the pack had to step up. Embry’s comment led to a fight where the pair both phased, snarling and snapping until they both came to their senses and things went back to normal. you hated when Paul shifted because of you, even if it was just indirectly your fault like it was tonight. 

you two were meant to be casual, despite Paul having imprinted on you, as you had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and weren’t ready to commit to someone again. you’d been seeing each other casually for months, hanging out, and getting to know each other better. as much as you were hesitant to let him into your life completely, you couldn’t deny your attraction to Paul. he’d been nothing but a gentleman thus far, bringing you flowers on dates, opening doors for you, and following your boundaries to a T, terrified to mess anything up with you. of course, his physical form was unlike anything you’d ever seen - you were lucky that he preferred to hang out without a shirt on. things had gotten hot and heavy between you two a few times but hadn’t gone farther than some very intense making out. though, the way Paul’s hand touched you now was enough for you to throw those boundaries out the window; you wanted him - no, needed him.

you focused your eyes back on the road in front of you, only being able to see as far as the truck’s dim headlights illuminated. breathe in, breathe out, you reminded yourself, trying to calm down the butterflies in your stomach. you were unsuccessful, and it didn’t help that Paul’s hand was inching closer and closer to your hips.

suddenly, his hand snaked further inward and his grip tightened, engulfing your inner thigh. your breath hitched, and you unsuccessfully tried to mask it as a cough. you saw Paul smirk out of the corner of your eye, but he didn’t look over at you. 

you once again reminded yourself to breathe as the ache between your legs became more apparent. his hand loosened its grip and continued its journey towards your core. half of you thought about stopping him purely as punishment for fighting with Embry, but the much louder other half wouldn’t dream of it right now.

you couldn’t help but let out a small groan as his hand finally reached your jean shorts, his fingers tracing the seam that ran between your legs. the slight pressure he applied drove you absolutely crazy as you wished for more friction.

the sound that escaped your lips seemed to do something to Paul as he let out a breathy groan of his own. “alright, that’s it,” he mumbled, turning the wheel toward the side of the road. he must have known exactly where you were because he easily pulled the truck behind a set of bushes that obscured most of it from the road. any passerbys, which were few and far between at this time of night anyway, wouldn’t notice the vehicle.

almost as soon as he slammed the gear shift into park, his lips were on yours. he kissed you with a passion you’d never felt before. you melted into his lips, reminding yourself for the third time that night that if you didn’t start breathing, you would pass out. he gripped the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as you continued to make out. his other hand traveled down your arm, to your hip, and unbuckled the seatbelt you’d been wearing. in one swift, but slightly awkward motion, he disconnected your lips for a brief moment and grabbed each side of your hips, pulling you across the center console onto his lap. you were careful not to lean too far and hit the horn with your back as you settled onto him, silently thanking Paul for owning such a spacious truck. your knees settled on either side of his legs. 

as you sat down on his lap, you brushed his hardening length with the same seam of your shorts his hand was just on, eliciting a quiet moan from both of you. impatient, Paul once again gripped your scalp and slammed your lips together. you allowed your hands to slip underneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the outline of the muscles on his bare abdomen. this feeling, combined with the warmth radiating from his bare skin, drove you insane. 

“take- it- off-” you mumbled in between kisses, tugging the hem upwards. you were unsure of where the forwardness came from, but you didn’t stop long enough to be embarrassed. 

“you don’t get to tell me what to do,” he snarked half-jokingly but obliged.

the moonlight streaming in from the windshield was just enough for you to be able to see the outline of his pecs and abs, and you really couldn’t help but stare.

“like what you see?” he chuckled, noticing your eyes widening at his physique.

you nodded, unable to form words, instead opting to smash your lips back together with all of the strength you could muster. you’d had enough of looking flustered - you wanted to take initiative.

you raised your hips again, pushing your abdomen against Paul's and lowering yourself onto his member. you rocked your hips back and forth as he moved his lips down your cheek, then your jaw, and eventually to your neck. the friction as you continued to grind against him elicited a low growl against your neck as his lips attached to your skin. you moaned embarrassingly loudly as he sucked at the delicate skin, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be sheepish. in fact, the only emotion surging through your body right now was pure desire for the god-like man leaving a series of hickeys on your neck.

“Paul, that’s gonna leave a mark,” you whined. you knew you’d regret letting him do it in the morning but right now you wanted nothing more than for him to mark you as his. you wanted to be his.

“don’t want anyone else getting any ideas. you’re all mine,” he retorted, lifting his head up to look you in the eyes. his were almost completely black with lust. “say it.” he commanded, holding your jaw tightly in his hand. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m all yours, Paul” you panted, your hips continuing to move back and forth on Paul’s lap as you stared into his dark eyes. despite your relationship still being undefined, truer words had never been spoken.

“good girl. now shut the fuck up and get back in the passenger seat.” his harsh words did nothing to discourage you from obeying as you scrambled to sit back where you were a few minutes prior. this was a side of Paul you had only seen when he was angry: dark, commanding, dominating. usually, you would have to try to calm him down when he got like this, but right now, you were very much enjoying him telling you what to do. you already missed the warmth of his body on yours as you climbed back over to the other seat, but you instinctually knew better than to voice your complaints right now.

Paul leaned across the console, reaching his hand between your knees and under the seat to move it back as far as it would go. once he was satisfied with that, he reached across your lap and pulled the reclining handle, his other hand helping to lower the seat back slowly so you weren’t sent flying backward.

“scooch back” he ordered again, and you moved your hips backward on the seat, supporting yourself with your elbows on the very edge of the seat near the headrest.

you were confused as he opened the driver-side door and hopped out of the truck. you watched as he opened the passenger-side door, it becoming clear now what his plan was. you pulled your knees towards your chest as he climbed back in, kneeling on the floor mat in front of you. god damn, this truck was spacious, and you were incredibly grateful for that right now.

his large hands fumbled to unbutton your shorts. he pulled the zipper down and you lifted your hips, followed by your legs, so he could slide them off. not wanting to wait another second, he pulled your underwear to the side and connected his thumb to your clit. you let out a loud gasp at the sensation and he chuckled proudly, knowing how good he was making you feel. Paul rubbed small, tight circles on the sensitive nub for a few seconds before you felt a finger dip into your wet folds. a guttural moan escaped your throat as you finally got the sensation you had been waiting for since his hand had rested on your thigh earlier in the night.

he added a second finger shortly after and continued to pump in and out of your heat, his thumb continuing its circular motions on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building inside of your core, and it was almost euphoric knowing it was Paul making you feel like this.

“Paul, i’m gonna-” you moaned, getting close to the edge. “what the fuck?” he’d removed his fingers altogether upon hearing this and you were not happy about it. 

“patience, princess.” he chuckled, making eye contact with you once again as he raised his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them. you were still pissed at him for teasing you like that, but the sound he made as he licked your wetness off himself almost made it worth it. almost.

“let’s take these off, shall we? or should i rip them off?” his fingers slipped under the waistband of your underwear.

“don’t you dare,” the one rational brain cell you had left replied, lifting your hips for him to slide them off like he did the shorts. you liked this pair. Paul held your hips back down as he spread your legs open, leaning his torso over the seat until you could feel his breath between your legs, amplified by the wetness that had come with the teasing.

“god, you look so fucking good” he took a second to admire the sight before him before he groaned lustfully and connected his tongue to your cunt. he made quick work of finding all the right spots to hit, causing your legs to tremble and your eyes to roll back in your head. at this rate, you wouldn’t last long, but you never wanted this moment to end.

“oh, fuck,” you moaned as he continued to circle the sensitive nub with his tongue. you had never felt this connected to someone before, not any of your exes. no one had ever made you feel as good as Paul was in this moment. as he continued the motions of his tongue, you realized Paul was perfect for you in every way, including this one. it was like pre-nut clarity.

you felt the pressure building up again, somehow even stronger than last time, unable to contain your moans. “fuck, Paul, i’m gonna cum” you groaned, arching your back against the seat as Paul continued to hold your hips down harshly against it. you figured there would be bruises there tomorrow, and the thought of him marking you up even more only exacerbated your growing orgasm.

“cum for me, princess” Paul mumbled against your clit, giving you permission to let go. it only took a couple more swipes for you to come completely unglued against his mouth.

Paul gradually slowed down his motions, guiding you through your orgasm as your hips attempted to buck against his face, craving the stimulation. eventually, your brain started to function again, and the first thing you thought was that that was definitely the best orgasm you’d ever had. you couldn’t tell Paul that, though - it would boost his ego way too much, and he already had a huge one to begin with. the second thought that went through your head was that you were ready for Paul to be your boyfriend. no man could eat you out that good and get away from you.

he admired his work as you panted in front of him, a smirk of pride on his face. he loved knowing he was the one who made you feel so good. he raised himself up on his knees to hover over you, one arm resting on the seat to support himself as the other snaked behind your back to pull you to his chest. you wrapped your arms around his back, settling your face in the crook of his neck. your breaths were soon in time with each other, basking in the body heat radiating from the both of you.

you could have stayed like that forever, but after a few minutes, Paul pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. he seemed deep in thought before he smiled and opened his mouth to ask you a simple question: “is it casual now?”

------

part 2 here :)

[etanow]

Do you have any showtime monster labs headcanons? 👉🏻👈🏻☺️

OH BOY DO I HEHEHEHE

Caine was the last to realize Pomni was in his residency (He was,, otherwise preoccupied), and was absolutely flabbergasted that Jax did such a thing as raising the dead. Caine has a strict policy on not letting humans(dead or alive) that far down in the C&A facility unaccompanied considering how many monsters reside there.It was one of the few times anyone had seen him properly upset at something Jax had done. Pomni was rightfully freaked the fuck out at a giant pair of floating teeth and eyes saying he's a long-forgotten God, needless to say, their first introductions were confusing on both ends LOL

Understandably, Pomni has a LOT of issues with herself appearance-wise. She avoided mirrors for weeks, and tried her best to keep distant from the others. Caine didn't walk on eggshells around her like the others did as she adjusted and that was something she appreciated, at least provided a little sense of normalcy. He was easy to talk to and remembered EVERY little detail.

Caine can change his form at will, but Pomni prefers his big ol' toothy head because he said he was most comfortable appearing that way.

Everyone has their own unique smells; Zooble smells like brimstone, musk, and campfire, Jax always smells like hand sanitizer and chemicals that make your nose burn, Kinger like old earth and soil, Ragatha smells comforting like your favorite old plushie, and Gangle didn't have much but she liked occasionally putting perfume on her ribbons. But Pomni always has a hint of the smell of death following her. She tried Gangle's perfumes and all sorts of scented soaps but nothing could truly mask or make it go away. It was only when Caine gifted her a bouquet of flowers that the smell was almost forgotten. Hell, maybe the plague doctors with their floral and herb-filled masks were on to something. Since then, Caine often surprised Pomni with fresh flowers, herbs, and plants to the point of her shelves overflowing with vases and pots of flowers in all states. Eventually, she gets to pressing flowers between books as a memento for every flower he's given her.

.

Pomni sometimes needs blood transfusions as her body doesn't make blood anymore but still needs it- she hates needles. Caine and Ragatha alternate sitting with her during it since it can take a few hours at a time and distract her with books or idle chatter until it's done. Caine is an amazing storyteller, he's existed a long time as both a noncorporeal and corporeal being and has countless stories of battles and moments long lost to time. He hasn't really had anyone to share these stories with, and the only other being who was around during all of it, well he doesn't get the chance to talk with him much these days...

Ragatha and Pomni got together first, they spent a lot more time together in the beginning since Caine only popped in once or twice a week usually. He started hanging around longer after a while and I'm getting sidetracked now I'm just imagining Pomni bursting into Ragatha's room sobbing with a "I'M SO SORRY I JUST KISSED CAINE PLEASE FORGIVE ME-" And Ragatha doesn't miss a beat, totally unphased and unbothered, "Ooh nice! Was he any good?" And Pomni's just standing there like "Wait What"

They are all very bad at communication lmao but they're TRYING THEIR BEST OKAY

Caine is not used to the concept of resting, meanwhile, pretty much all Pomni does in her free time most days is nap or laze around- it took Caine a while to not see it as a waste of time and now loves it when Pomni rests her head in his lap. He likes playing with her hair and watching her sleep peacefully.

Pomni keeps her gloves on often because she doesn't like the sight of her skeletal fingers but absolutely MELTS with palm and backhand kisses.

Caine is very touchy-feely, he rubs backs when talking idly or loops arms together, floats a little closer, and matches their pace when walking together (even imitates walking itself with little bobs in time with whoever he's walking with). On some bad joint days, Pomni has a bit of a limp from her exposed bone leg and Pomni finds it absolutely hilarious when Caine unintentionally matches that movement.

Pomni misses facebook memes a lot :(

[brucewaynehater101]

Hi again!!!! Older brother JJ annon here

So i absolutley LOVE your take on this and ive got stuffs to add >:D

So the Joker finds the alternate universe Damian so JJ just- kills him right?? And then Damians bats come to get him and all that but WJAT IF instead of them going back to their dimension JJ sees these other people he vaguley recognizes and decides "fuck it. Im keeping them ALL."

So he does. And it doesnt matter that most of these guys are older than him, he treats them almost exactly like he does with Damian. (Except for bruce. Junior doesnt know what to do with bruce) JJ doesnt give two shits

And like- all the bats are weirded out because what????? Who is this mini joker??? And then they find out its a version of TIM. So they just...kidnap him back. Its bonus points because they dint have a Tim (anymore [i decided that because angst and yes. {id imagine their tim died from the widdower on Brucequest or smth along those lines but the evidence he collected still got sent back? Who knows. Deff not me}])

So its like a win-win for everyone involved!!! Tim JJ gets the bats back (even if he doent really recognize them) and the bats get a Tim back!!

(Thank you for listening to my insanity ted talk.)

Here's a link to the OG post!

Oh? ~ I like the way you think, Anon. Let's crank up the angst, shall we? As much pain as possible :) :D

TW: Major character death, dead body description, toxic obsessions

We'll refer to one Tim as Alt!Tim and the other as JJ!Tim (or JJ) for simplicity sake.

Alt!Tim was never caught by Dick when Ra's kicked him out of a window. Dick was right there, mere centimeters away, but Tim slipped right through his fingers.

Dick was forced to watch as another one of his family members fell to his death.

It's not the sound of bones impacting cement that haunts him so, nor the sight of his baby brother hitting the ground from over 80 stories tall.

No. It's the look of contentment, the small reassuring smile, the instant forgiveness, and the relief that poured from Tim's body when he noticed Dick was trying but would fail to catch him.

Tim dying at this time, when he still hasn't repaired any of his relationships with his family, absolutely obliterates the remaining Bats. They either feel guilt for how they treated him, for not being there for him, or for what he sacrificed for them.

[Whether or not Ra's scraped his body off of the ground and lugs his corpse to a Pit only to brainwash and hide him from the Bats is a separate storyline. In this case, Tim, who finally manages to escape, realizes that his Bats (and Tim is mentally not well. He's kind of obsessive post-Pit) are gone. Alt!Tim goes to track them down only to find them chumming it up with another version of him :) ]

JJ is also obsessive with the Bats. These newcomers are all his younger siblings (minus Bruce), and he will not let them go. The Bats, who miss Tim/feel guilty and desperately want him back, are also super obsessed with Tim. It kinds of works out for them.

[apalapucian]

the point is that evidently, lily evans, journ major from the uni nearby, orders iced americanos or hot chai lattes depending on the weather, ice-blended strawberries and cream when she's particularly stressed, laughs the way james imagines the sun smiles or the grass giggles or some other lame sappy alliteration like that — suddenly just realized james isn't worth her time anymore. maybe she's busy? she seems to have notebooks out on her table right now, reading and taking notes. but james knows for a fact that midterm week just ended — he would know, they all barely survived it — and even then, when she was drowning in her readings and papers, she had time to at least smile at him. ask him what he thought about shit, how he was... god, he's not going to dwell on this. he's not. he's not disappointed, he's just — it's just weird. like he said. so what if they're not friends? he couldn't care less. but he cares that, like, what if someone told her something bad about him, so now she's avoiding him because he's bad news? or — what if something serious is going on with her currently? such drastic behavioral change must have been spurred by something. and he's concerned about that.

sirius asks for a refill at the end of the counter, and james snaps out of it.

"what are you sulking about?" he asks james, eyes still on his current agatha christie. it must be his third this week.

"i'm not sulking."

sirius dogears the page he's on, closes the book, puts it down. he stares at james over the rim of his mug as he sips his fresh round. "look, maybe she's just busy."

james takes sirius's book and reads the blurb. (or pretends to.) "she's always busy."

sirius puts the mug down with a thud. "so you were sulking about her."

james rolls his eyes. opens the book, turns to a random page, doesn't say anything.

"want me to talk to her?"

"what the fuck about?"

"hey. respect your elders. watch your language."

"you're only four months older, wanker."

"this is why the guy at the kebab shop hates you, james. you are scandalously impolite. it's not too late to change your ways."

"mr. black, your most ancient and noble grace, i just want you to know that i dropped your last order of cheesecake in the sink because i was, as you so very astutely observed, distracted by things, but i picked it back up and served you it anyway."

"you're fired."

"thank god."

"you're welcome."

"you are such a breath of fresh air from all the intelligent conversations i have with customers all day."

"i expect a customized 'employer of the year' mug on my desk by the end of this week."

james glares at him. sirius never loses a glaring match though, so james just makes do with drinking from sirius's mug without his permission and without breaking eye contact. a lame alternative. sirius is not fazed in the slightest.

"i can go talk to her though, for real," says sirius. "ask her shit."

"what the fuck about though. for real."

"i'm going to ask her why she's not in love with you yet."

james takes the mug again, drinks the entire thing, ignoring the instant burn on his tongue. he smacks sirius with the book and shoves his arms off the counter. "get out. you're banned. forever."

"i literally own this place," says sirius, laughing.

— the one with the storm and all the texting (ao3)

[perfectlyoongi]

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIN who likes to cook with you, not minding spending delicious moments creating something as good, as tender, as your laughs. he melted into your cooking, admiring the way you moved skilfully, smiling at your every comment, eager to taste what you two made together. “i know dinner today is simple, but i want you to know that i will forever remember the moment we just shared cooking.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIN who always tries to make you laugh, just to hear you laugh, just to feel important for making you happy. several jokes were stuck on the tip of Jin's tongue, eager to be revealed to cover you with pure excitement and beautify your already divine features. “there is no sound more beautiful and melodious than your laughter, it is obvious that i will try to make you laugh whenever i can.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIN who leaves his cell phone on at night in case you have a nightmare and need him. Jin wouldn't mind a sleepless night if it meant he would be talking to you, making sure you felt okay, calming your heart and mind and reassuring you that he would always be there for you. “don’t hesitate to call me, seriously. i'd rather lose hours of sleep than know that you needed me and i wasn't there to help you.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIN who started using and abusing the words i love you when he realized what was in his heart. even though he believed that what you felt for him was completely platonic, Jin didn't mind confessing his love for you, even though you believed that his words were purely platonic. "i love you. a lot. more than you can imagine. more than i thought i could feel. you make me adore you. simply that.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIN who likes to game alongside you, talking to you while his attention alternates between your addictive words and the mesmerizing game. Jin often didn't even realize what was happening on the screen, he could only hear you, he could only focus on your delicate voice and your contagious laugh. “don’t worry, i can play later. i can’t get back the time i would have liked to have spent with you.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIN who would spend hours on end looking for the perfect movie to watch with you, always looking for something that would make you feel more serene. with each title that passed through Jin's eyes, he just wondered if the movie was good for you, if you would have a good time with him, if you would lean against him and snuggle in Jin's arms. “this is a different, calmer movie. maybe you want to lie down on my lap and relax for a moment? maybe?”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!JIN who confessed to you on a normal afternoon in the middle of a random conversation, just because the sun painted you with certain golden tones and the breeze carried your intoxicating perfume with it. it was like a spell, something unforeseen that even caught Jin himself by surprise — but he didn't deny his words, Jin just smiled. “i like you. i like you like you're supposed to like your soulmate. and honestly, that’s what i think you are to me — my soulmate.”

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Staking a claim

Summary: Shen Qingqiu and the terrible plague of everybody flirting with his husband.

Shen Qingqiu had long become used to people gravitating towards Luo Binghe - of course, he was the protagonist, after all, and his exceedingly good looks, incredible martial and cultivation prowess as well as his imposing presence attracted attention and admiration in equal parts as they did envy and contempt.

It had been a main feature of Proud Immortal Demon Way for women to fall hopelessly and devotedly in love with him from as little as a brief glance their way, after which they were ready to offer themselves up for him in the most perverted ways Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky could conceive - however, though Shen Qingqiu's alternate version of Binghe was not attracted to women anymore, it seemed that many still flushed red in his presence and even attempted to flirt with him regardless.

This was not a problem for Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe had openly and frequently declared that he would sooner throw himself into the Abyss again a thousand times over than cheat on his beloved Shizun, and they both knew those were not just empty words. Man or woman, none would tempt him, because Binghe's heart belonged only to his husband - a confession that had Shen Qingqiu turn so red that he felt like he would catch on fire!

But regardless of how many times Luo Binghe turned down the flirtatious women and told them in no uncertain terms that he was happily married and decidedly unwilling to part from his beloved unless death itself took him away, not all seemed to be willing to accept it. It was pitiful, and Shen Qingqiu did not feel jealous as much as he felt sorry for them.

The situation was slightly different when it came to men, however. Since, apparently, Binghe had somehow turned gay in this strange alternative universe of Shen Qingqiu's making, it was often that men fell victim to Binghe's unintentional charm and enticing protagonist halo even more than women did - and it gave quite the number of them the courage to try to pursue him.

Whereas Shen Qingqiu was perfectly and securely trusting of Luo Binghe, seeing all of these men flirt with him every occasion they could irked him greatly. Sure, though Luo Binghe had always refused every single offer - sometimes politely, other times coldly and every now and again, violently - the constant batting of eyelashes and veiled innunendos were starting to test Shen Qingqiu's patience.

Back in the modern world, Shen Yuan hadn't been a jealous or possessive person in the least - he had lived by the motto that one should not hold too tightly onto those they love, and let them flee freely without judgement if they wanted to.

But now that he had fully come into the role of Shen Qingqiu and had married Luo Binghe, it seemed more and more clear to him that, perhaps, his lack of territorial instincts had come from the fact that he had never had anything as precious as Binghe's glass heart to protect and keep.

Which was why Shen Qingqiu was starting to become more and more familiar with the feeling of jealousy blooming like a wretched thorn in his stomach. The constant flirting and coquetting around were making Shen Qingqiu feel angrier every time.

There were two reasons for this, he realized. One, the fact that, though secretly a poser, Shen Qingqiu was a great peak lord, and having his marriage disrespected by random NPCs felt like quite an insult to both himself and his sect.

He couldn't imagine others flirting with Mobei-Jun, for instance, because it was common knowledge he had married the An Ding Peak Lord a.k.a the "Great Master" Airplane (though to be fair, Mobei-Jun wasn't the protagonist, and the respect for An Ding Peak had not increased at all, especially since Shang Qinghua began publishing some of his terribly perverted writing without even using a fake name!)

Regardless, the point was that the constant flirting was an affront to Qing Jing Peak, if not to the whole Cang Qiong Mountain!

Secondly, Shen Qingqiu's pride as a man was constantly being tested. Though the tips of his ears still dusted pink when he said it out loud, Luo Binghe was his husband and he did not like anybody trying to sway him, even if he knew they would fail miserably. Whilst he could not stop people from admiring his Binghe or lusting after him, to have them openly hit on him was very upsetting. Luo Binghe was his, and they had no business being so audaciously flirty!

(If Binghe were to know these things, Shen Qingqiu was sure he would not allow him to leave the bed for three days and three nights!)

So, Shen Qingqiu had not intervened in any of these situations, letting Luo Binghe deal with them as he saw fit. Partly because he did not want to sour his mood, partly because having his husband reaffirm his love was satisfying.

That, until one day.

Shen Qingqiu's patience had always been plenty, but not infinite. And the limit of it had been reached when, after a long day of travelling, the inn that they had chosen to spend the night in had a far too audacious clerk working the desk. The man was in his late youth, not quite old enough to be mature but having long abandoned the appearance of boyhood, and he seemed particularly starry eyed about Luo Binghe.

That would not have been out of the question, but to see the man bite his lip and stare up at Luo Binghe in a thinly veiled expression of subservience and desire had miffed Shen Qingqiu to the point that he sent the man a glare so cold he faltered for a moment.

But the peace was short lived.

As the man (whose name Shen Qingqiu obstinately refused to remember) led them to their room, for a very split second, his hand had "brushed" against Luo Binghe's lower back, a gesture that had definitely not been unintended.

But Shen Qingqiu had noticed it and nimbly smacked the back of the man's hand with his fan right as it was about to "brush" a bit lower. Binghe did not have time to so much as realize what had happened before the man yelped in pain.

"Luo-shixiong, your shizun is too cruel!" The man whimpered, so pathetic that one would have believed he had his hand cut clean off.

"One should know when to keep their hands to themselves." Shen Qingqiu replied, opening his fan, upturning his nose and closing his eyes not unlike how the original Shen Jiu would have done. "Don't you know it is impolite to lay your hands on somebody without their consent? Especially somebody that has already told you they are married and uninterested."

Luo Binghe's eyes watched his shizun with a mix of shock, surprize, joy and excitement, but he dared not intervene. That was too good to ruin - Shen Qingqiu had never said anything to Binghe's many suitors before, and though Binghe was happy Shizun trusted him, he had indeed wanted some kind of possessive reaction from him... and now, he had received it!

The inn clerk pouted further, looking even more pathetic. "I had not intended to do anything uncouth... I was simply discussing sword forms with Luo-xiong..."

"If you are interested in the martial arts, I could refer you to Bai Zhan Peak." Shen Qingqiu interrupted, in that same harsh, arrogant, "needles hidden in silk" tone. "Though I doubt Liu-shidi would willingly take in a new disciple that seems so terribly unpromising."

Binghe barely suppressed a laugh at that as the inn clerk's expression soured. He did not dare say anything else, not when Binghe himself sent him a meaningful, dark glance.

The room they had rented had indeed been beautiful, cozy with an air of elegance. If this particular man was terribly irritating, at least the inn did not reflect that same poor character.

"Should I bring my esteemed guests anything before I retreat?" The inn clerk asked, some of his saccharine sweetness dissipated into placid politeness.

Binghe began, "No, I-"

"Yes." Shen Qingqiu interrupted, placing his fan on the table with just enough force for a small click to reverberate as the wood of the handle met the tabletop. "The finest wine you have."

Luo Binghe's eyes glinted so brightly that Shen Qingqiu felt blinded for a moment. But his mood had indeed soured too much, and his expression did not soften. The severity in his eyes made goosebumps raise on his disciple's skin, a pleasant shiver down his spine.

"Hurry now. I have much to...discuss with my husband tonight and I do not wish to waste any more time." Shen Qingqiu spoke again, his tone still icy.

The inn clerk could only obey as he scurried out of the door, his face both pale and red all the same.

He had a feeling that there would be many complaints of improper noises disturbing the rest of his inn's patrons!

[wraithofmorhogg]

Avallac'h: The Most Misunderstood Witcher Character A Character Study

I feel people have wrongly judged him for someone that we only get for ONE chapter and a small cameo from Geralt and one other prospective so I would like to speak on my prospective of Avallac'h as a character. Starting out it is interesting to me that whenever he speaks of Ciri having the promised child he seems to shut down. Right off the bat that sounds to me like dissociation. Not nefarious evil.

But notice that when Ciri insults Auberon this is the first time his face changes. Why? He says this is her 'only chance to be free' and his face goes back to that blank, stone look once he returns to the subject of a child. Only chance to be free? Hmm...

"You don't know what you mean." He says. And then he runs away from her. He says this more than once. "You don't know what you mean." "You don't know what you're talking about." Or in another translation "You don't know what you're risking." So, what does this all mean? Well as it turns out Auberon has the answer.

The King claims that Ciri is there selfishly so she doesn't have to experience Avallac'h's lab, but Avallac'h never once told her that his lab was an option. She doesn't even KNOW there is an alternative. "If it isn't me, it will be Avallac'h and his lab.""You cannot even imagine what it would mean for you to go there." And Avallac'h doesn't want to do that to her. He doesn't want to use his lab. So, in his own strange way Avallac'h is trying to protect or save Ciri from this horror. Again, back to this line.

"You don't know what you mean." "You don't know what you're talking about." Avallac'h does NOT want to use his lab on her. He is doing everything within his power to avoid it. Why? He must genuinely care about her in some way. We don't know the reasoning that he does. Does Ciri remind him of Lara? Or is he doing this out of duty to Lara to protect her child? Because no matter what anyone says Avallac'h clearly wholeheartedly loved Lara and Ciri as he states is a part of Lara. Whatever it maybe he does care about Ciri, or he would have taken her straight to his lab in the first place. I don't think Avallac'h actually wanted any of this for Ciri at all, but he thought that her sleeping with the King was the only way he could preserve her life.

This is after Ciri has pissed off Auberon and the alternative must be Ava's lab. The walls of the palace have ears. Avallac'h must know and he has mysteriously disappeared. So, what happens next?

The King is dead. Poisoned.

People claim Eredin, but Eredin was surprised. He had no idea. So, who else does that leave us with? Avallac'h who has been mysteriously missing when usually he is around to console Ciri after the King has been a prick to her. I think in the end he poisoned Auberon to protect Ciri. As Avallac'h told Geralt "Someone else will help her now." we know he meant himself. Avallac'h has clearly done just that if he hasn't been behind the scenes doing so all along.

Another interesting thing to note a lot of people use the "he strangled Ciri" to claim him as evil, but depending on the translation he didn't actually do that. It says he "COULD" choke her. Not that he did. He appears to just be holding her. Not pleasant sure but not choking either. She did just say something that must have been horribly painful to him. (and maybe just maybe he was a little tempted by her proposition of it being him instead of Auberon)

He was quite quick to forgive her, wasn't he? Perhaps because they both acted foolishly. Finally, I want to point out a couple of other things that someone who is evil just wouldn't bother to do.

I find it interesting that Avallac'h realized she was embarrassed and upset and he 'quickly' stopped to comfort her. To say it was fine in his own way.

Comforting her. Using her own language. Which in the elf world means he's probably lowing his status for her. When Ciri is upset about the king being a total prick to her. Again. Avallac'h patiently hears her out. Even if hearing those details of the woman that shares Lara's eyes doing things with another man must be awful. A "strange smile" indeed.

Bonus: Avallac'h helps Geralt

And at one-point other humans who if I recall correctly, he was guiding through a blizzard for some reason? Maybe it depends on the translation?

Does he really hate humans or is he just bitter he lost Lara to one? I suspect he doesn't really hate them as much as he says he does, or he wouldn't be helping them at all. "Bored she-elves"? Tsk tsk. This has nothing to do with bored elves. It is all about you and Lara. All in all, Avallac'h is not a bad guy. He is not evil. That does not mean he is 100% a good person, but nobody is. One thing we can get is that he does care about Ciri. What is Ciri to Avallac'h? We may never know. Maybe even he himself has no idea.

Thus ends my character study on Book! Avallac'h (for now) and I thank those that took the time to share open-mindedly (I hope) this little study with me.

[lovebugism]

☄. *. ⋆ ┄ We Fight to Make Up

summary: after a run-in with your ex, steve's anger gets the best of him. sometimes you think he picks a fight just for the make up sex. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: smut, steve calls himself daddy once, briefly mentioned breeding kink, a touch of angst, insecure!steve, also steve with scruff because that needs a warning too, 18+ mdni a/n: ok i'm not the happiest with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long and she needs to see the world now so.. enjoy? <3

You don’t go out anymore. None of the party does, really.

Fighting through the end of the world and somehow surviving for three years straight made bars and clubs and getting drunk seem a little less important. It gets too easy to stay within the inner circle that’s seen the same sort of hell you’ve seen.

Eventually, time goes on and you don’t realize that you’ve only been around the same ten people until the thought of going to the grocery store alone sounds scary. 

Fighting monsters, weathering alternate dimensions, beating up Russians soldiers — that’s cake. It’s the getting back to normal that’s so hard.

That's a bitter pill to swallow. None of you got to have too much of a childhood before the knowledge of a sentient darkness swirling beneath your feet turned everything upside down (no pun intended). A life with a regular routine unbound by the impending doom of an armageddon is hard to go back to, when fighting to stay alive is all you’ve ever done.

You try really hard, though. All of you do.

The kids try to find a nostalgic amusement in the arcade they used to frequent while grappling with the fact that they’ll never been those kids again. The older group of you dabbles in the simple pleasure of growing up and discovering what adulthood really means — getting drunk and going dancing just because you can, but facing the inevitable consequences of those actions all on your own. 

The six of you find a certain solace at the Limelight. For Steve and Jonathan, they serve good beer — obviously cheap and unusually tangy on the tongue, but nice and cold nonetheless. For Eddie and Robin, there’s a karaoke machine and a stage across the bar, complete with every rock ballad imaginable. You and Nancy take special interest in the dance floor — a platform with light-up rainbow squares for all your drunken twirling needs.

It’s a nice place. More than that, it’s a familiar one. Eventually, going there every friday night is like comfort food in the belly, pleasant and warm. Steve feels safe there when he’s with all of you and tonight he’s especially fuzzy with a quiet sort of happiness that’s got his cheeks all pink. 

Maybe the beer is partly to blame. 

Or maybe it’s because you’ve got your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, anchoring yourself to him and simultaneously fending off any unwanted attention from the scantily clad women around you who can't seem to take their eyes away from your Steve.

But he only watches you as you smile into your glass while Eddie Munson, all sweaty after his Madison Square Garden worthy rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart, tells some stupidly unfunny joke. You’re pressed contently into his side, like you would melt into him if you could, and he’s buzzing with the comfort of your warmth and the chemically induced mellow from the drink in his cup. 

It was a good night. An easy one. A fun one.

And then it just… wasn’t.

When your ex waltzes into the bar, he brings the cold air in with him and an unusual sophisticated energy that’s typically foreign to this side of town. He’s got on a gray corduroy blazer and slacks to match. The black turtle neck he wears beneath it clings to his lean torso and broad chest, like he wants people to marvel at how muscular he is. 

You don’t even realize it’s him at first. You turn to Nancy to talk shit about the douchebag at your eight o’clock that just walked in while the guy settles at the far end of the bar, around the corner that faces the group of you. He removes the dark Ray-Bans from the straight bridge of his nose and uses them to push back his cinnamon-colored curls. 

Steve feels you tense at his side then. You duck inside yourself and force him and Robin to form a makeshift shield around you. 

It’s a tad too dramatic for two people who ended on pretty decent terms. It was about as amicable as a breakup can be — you were both seventeen and thankfully already mature enough to know that the relationship wasn’t bound to make it outside of high school. So you split up in search of more fulfilling things.

You found yours, in Steve and in the rest of the party. And by the looks of it — the obviously expensive suit and the silver Rolex glittering under the dim yellow bar light — he found his.

You aren’t exactly sure how, but he sees you. 

Probably because Robin couldn’t stop ogling at him from over her shoulder, obviously not getting the hint to act casual and inevitably dragging his attention over to the group of you.

He’s confused by the attention at first and then beaming when he notices you. The man flashes a set of pearly whites beneath a plump pink grin, all but shoving through the crowded bar to come and meet you.

Steve is able to get a better look at him when he’s no more than a couple inches away. The guy wrenches you away from him to wrap you in a friendly embrace, smiling like a ray of a thousands suns while he laughs with a hearty mirth.

A childlike and terribly jealous scowl settles upon Steve's features as his stomach wrenches something fierce. This stranger is touching you, and he hates that he’s touching you, but it’s more than that.

Steve’s almost certain this is what he would look like if he hadn’t been through the end of the world. The ornate suit and sunglasses worth more than most people’s salaries could’ve been his. In another life, he could’ve been this pretty and perfect and pure.

But, instead, here he is — dressed in an aged Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt and hand-me-down jeans that are frayed at the hems. There are bits of dried blood on the knee that he can’t get out. He isn’t quite sure if it’s his or if it belongs to one of the three varying monsters he’s been face-to-face with over the years. 

His hair is pushed back and visibly un-styled, fluffier than usual because it hasn’t been washed in a while. And only now does he notice the prickly layer of scruff itching at his jaw and above his lip because the effort to shave is just too much sometimes.

He wishes he had, though. Now, he wants to completely perfect his appearance and change his life entirely — all at the sight of some stranger he didn't know existed before now.

The man introduces himself to the rest of the group when he parts from you — Todd. 

Because of coursehis name is Todd.

No one says that out loud, of course, but you do share pairs of knowing looks. Eddie’s the only one brave enough, or rather drunk enough, to take the piss out of the guy. 

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for Limelight?” he asks before laughing into his beer.

The rhetorical question leads to the man, Todd, to start complaining about work — how he’s making more than he knows what to do with, that the lifestyle isn’t as lavish as everyone made it out to be, that work is his best friend most days because he doesn’t have time for real relationships anymore. 

And it doesn’t sound braggy. This isn't some rich guy complaining about all the money he has. He’s genuine, and that’s somehow even worse.

Steve can tell he’s working for some big four accounting firm without him having to say it. He can practically smell it all over the guy. Todd’s just got that air about him, that he’s got an office on the fiftieth story with large glass windows that span from the floor to the ceiling. He’s making well into the six-figures if that’s the case. Just like his goddamn dad. 

Just like he would be if the endless cycling of fighting hadn’t stripped him flesh from bone.

Steve forces himself to shove that thought to the back of his mind.

“You know I’ve actually been thinking about, you know, just dropping everything. Putting in my two weeks and fucking off to France,” Todd admits. His eyes sparkle like a pair of fucking diamonds when they lock in on you. “Like we always used to talk about.”

That was your dream. The kind of reverie that wasn’t at all practical or the least bit tangible, but the kind you fantasized about nonetheless. 

And here this asshole goes, living it for the both of you.

You’re grinning at him anyway, patting him on the shoulder while you congratulate him. You tell him he should do it. That he deserves it. 

Steve, meanwhile, is so angry he can feel the prickle of the red-hot rage on his skin, like so many little needles. It’s a simmering heat for now, all slow and lazy. The longer he holds it in, the more likely he is to pop into a full boil. He knows that. But he keeps the fire in his chest and wallows in that high-pitched ache.

Todd leaves not too long after. Makes it a point not to overstay his welcome. He’s polite when he goes, making sure to talk to all your friends even though he didn’t exactly come for them — he compliments Eddie’s leather jacket and Robin’s taste in style, Jonathan and Nancy are both blushing pink when he praises their work with the local paper. He says something to Steve he can’t quite register because he’s too busy fuming. 

The brunette girl beside him is practically swooning, and he has to remind her — “Robin, you’re gay.”

The man was kind, terribly so, the sort of politeness you can’t help but notice and marvel at, like a pretty pebble you’ve found on the ground. He didn’t overstep any boundaries with you either, like he respected that you two were practically strangers now — fucking asshole — and whether or not he knew you were with Steve, he kept a chivalrous distance anyway.

He must’ve known, though, he did have eyes after all. There’s no way he missed the way Steve had been looming over you the whole time. Or the possessive arm he had around your shoulder. Or the stern chocolate gaze that had ping-ponged between you and him the entire conversation.

When he leaves, there’s nothing to talk shit about or make fun of him for. Not only is that really fucking annoying, but it’s boring, and it leaves you and Steve as the punching bags for all their stupid jokes.

“You certainly have a type, don’t ya, doll?” Eddie teases you as he reaches behind Nancy to shove at your shoulder. “Steve’s practically a carbon copy of that douchebag.”

“Holy shit, I can see it now,” Robin marvels breathlessly. Her deep ocean gaze is still locked on Todd across the bar. He’s minding his own business now, ordering another drink, while the rest of you can’t seem to stop talking about him. She turns back to Steve, her eyes flitting over his features like it’s the first time she’s seeing them while she puts the pieces of a puzzle together. 

“But, Steve’s like the dollar store version of him, though, right?” she wonders rhetorically and then feels the need to explain herself when Steve furrows his brows at her. “—Because, you know… he’s a lot richer than you are…”

The boy rolls his and brings the beer back to his lips. The clarification makes it sting more. 

“Thanks, Rob.”

Steve isn’t quite sure what’s got him seething. He’s the personification of a forest fire now — scorching, raging, and deadly — without a reason to be. It’s entirely likely you’ll never see Todd ever again. He lives in the city these days and he just told you that he was planning on moving to fucking France.

But these facts don’t mean as much to him when he knows that the guy isn’t totally over you. 

Steve knows Todd would be more than happy to take you out for coffee tomorrow morning to tie up any left-behind loose ends. He’s a rich guy going through a quarter-life crisis (Steve knows a little about what that’s like, too), he’d be more than happy to sweep an old ex-girlfriend off her feet and take her all the way to France with him. She’d need only to ask him to.

Maybe that’s what angers him. There’s a man, all rich and pretty and unscathed by war, that might love you like he does.

The wildfire in his chest grows. It’s a wonder it hasn't seared a hole in the fabric of his sweatshirt. And it burns. It leaves aching blisters on his skin like it’s the real damn thing. It’s like punches to the face, worse than every time he’s ever been beaten up combined.

He manages to keep the ashes of himself together. It's the least he can do for the rest of you, who obviously aren’t as bothered by Todd’s lingering presence and have since moved on to things more meaningful.

It wouldn’t be fair to project his ache onto you.

You guys don’t get too many nights like this, with work and school and lingering bouts of PTSD — who’s he to ruin this night for everyone else when he’s the problem?

But if any of you notice his simmering anger, you don’t show it.

He isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or not.

Nancy and Jonathan stay no longer than fifteen minutes after the fact. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow,” the say with a shrug, though everyone knows what that’s code for. Robin makes kissing noises at them as they make their exit.

Now, the brunette girl stands in front of the stage that Eddie parades on. He belts “If you only hold me tight, we’ll be holding on forever!” into the microphone for the hundredth time. She cheers for the boy like it’s the first time she’s ever heard the stupid song.

The bartender hands you two drinks, a couple of Sex on the Beach’s for you and Robin to try.

She hadn’t stopped talking about it since she spotted it on the menu even though she hates peach schnapps. You tell Steve you’re going to run it to her and that you bet she won’t make it through one sip without gagging. You also promise that you’ll try and pull Eddie away from the stage when the Bonnie Tyler song fades and then inevitably loops again.

He only nods and mumbles a vague affirmative under his breath. He doesn’t even look at you. Just stares down at his empty glass of beer and draws patterns on the cloudy cup with his finger. 

It’s hard not to notice his uncharacteristically long silence. 

He hasn’t been King Steve for quite some time, but that version of him always manages to peek out after a couple of drinks. He gets loud and brash and smiley and stupid. It makes the quiet demeanor he possesses now that much more daunting. Like a flag he’s waving to make sure everyone else knows that he’s upset about something or other.

Eventually, it makes you burst.

“Is something wrong?” you blurt.

He finally glances at you then. And has the gall to look confused. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. You shift your weight on your feet and try to ignore the distant stinging of the ice glasses in your hand, how the cold of them shoots pins and needles into your palms. “You’re just… being really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses with a shrug of his own. A hint of a smile flashes at the very corner of his mouth before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows down the rest of it in one quick gulp. You watch anxiously as he waves to the bartender for another. 

“We can go home if you want—”

“Jesus, I’m fine,” he interjects. The laugh that spills from his throat borders on annoyance. “Just go get the freak before he drives me crazy.”

With that, the two of you part ways. You, with the knowledge that something’s wrong with your boyfriend but having no way to make it better because he won’t tell you anything. And Steve, with another irrational reason to be angry at the world because how do you not get it?

If his ex-girlfriend showed up to a bar, looking like an airbrushed model with more money than all of you combined who’s got brains and wit and humility, he’d want you to get a little fucking jealous too.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. But he chooses to wallow in his anger than reflect on it, anyway. He takes pity on himself and makes everyone else out to be the enemy. Like he does best.

Even hours later, when he’s sobering up with room temperature water and a bowl of pretzels — and you’re calling a cab for a significantly drunker Eddie and Robin — he still feels the sting. 

He makes sure you know it too. 

The drive back home is uncomfortably quiet, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he at least had the radio on. But when he stuck the key into the ignition and music started blaring from the speakers (because he forget to turn it down beforehand), he turns it off completely. You feel to awkward to touch it.

“Do you, uh… Do you wanna talk about it now?” you ask him.

You’re unfamiliarly timid with him as you peer at him through your lashes. It’s like you’re looking at the sun, the way you have to glance at him from the corner of your eye so he won’t blind you. And it isn’t because of his usually sunny disposition because, somewhere along the course of the night, his shine got snuffed out. It’s because he’s practically lit himself on fire with his anger where he sits next to you.

And he still has the nerve to shake his head. “Talk about what? I told you, there’s nothing wrong,” he dismisses with one hand in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the other resting its elbow against the driver’s side door while his fingers pick anxiously at his lower lip. Nothing wrong, my ass.

“Are we seriously gonna play that game tonight?”

“What game?” he scoffs out a laugh.

“The game here you’re upset about something, but refuse to tell me why, so I have to guess what’s wrong with you until I get it right and you let me make it better.”

Steve glances at you and then back to the road. “I… I don’t do that.”

Oh, fuck, he totally does, he thinks to himself. Fuck, he hates that you know him so well.

“You’re literally doing it right now.”

“Well, I can’t be. Because I’m not upset about anything,” he argues with a shrug. “That’s, like, a mathematical impossibility. Or whatever.”

“Considering this is the most you’ve said to me all night, I know that isn’t true— And it’s not even a conversation! You’re just being passive aggressive!”

“Passive aggressive, huh?” he repeats sardonically.

“Yes!” you seethe. “You’re mad at me and I can tell that you’re mad, so just tell me why—”

“I’m not mad at you,” Steve grumbles. He feels even more like shit for making you think he was acting all pissy because of something you had done. You hadn’t done anything. You were perfect. You’re always perfect. And here he goes, making you think otherwise.

He slows to a stop at the last red-light before home. The neon scarlet matches that anger sweltering in his belly. He still refuses to look at you. 

“Then what happened between when we got to Limelight and right now that’s got you so fucked up?” you ask him with a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes.

The boy only huffs. His chest deflates with a heavy breath. He almost forgets to answer you because he’s too busy praying for the light to turn green so he can get the fuck home.

He just needs a little food in his system, he concludes, and a nice hot shower and a bed to rest his tired bones. Maybe then he’ll be able to function like he’s meant to. 

He feels a sense of relief for the first time in hours when the light bathes the two of you in a neon emerald glow.

You let out a sharp exhale through your nose at his silence. You shake your head at him like an annoyed parent and cross your arms over your chest. Your knees turn away from him and towards the door in time with your gaze that flits to the window. Now you’re the one that’s pissed.

Steve mumbles lowly when he finally answers you. It’s nearly inaudible.

“Your douchebag ex.”

“What?” you reply, sparing a glance over at him. It isn’t a question of whether you heard him or not, but of why that’s what he’s being so mean to you about.

“Your douchebag ex,” he repeats louder and picks chapped skin from his bottom lip. He rubs his tongue over the irritated skin to soothe the burn. “That’s what I’m upset about.”

Your brows furrow as you rack your head for the conversation you had with Todd that you’d already forgotten about. He’d said hello, and that you looked nice, and then asked you what you’d been up to before making conversation with your friends. He’d wished you luck and walked back to his seat not too long after. You wonder if there was some code in his words that you’d missed.

“…I don’t get it. What did he do?”

“Really?” Steve wonders with an emotionless laugh. “You don’t have a single clue why that might’ve pissed me off?”

He barely slows at the sign of the four-way stop. The block is practically a ghost town now. No one’s out so late into the night. Any other time you might’ve said something about it, but you’re just as eager to get home as the simmering boy next to you.

“No! He stopped by to talk for, like, five minutes! Are you really upset because another man talked to me?” you shout and it burns him because, yeah, that is kind of what he’s mad about — but it’s more than that and you don’t seem to get it. It’s not your job to either. He’ll just burn for the both of you.

The car jerks to a stop when he parks in the driveway.

“Yeah, you’re right—” Steve mutters to himself as he snatches the keys from the ignition. “You don’t get it.”

You feel the impact of the slammed of the car door as he exits. The headlights illuminate the boy as he uses his key ring to unlock the front entrance of your shared home. The dim orange overhead light slowly dims above you and then shuts off completely, bathing you in darkness.

With a sigh and a fleeting thought of oh, it’s gonna be that kinda night, huh? you follow less unenthusiastically behind him.

“Then just explain it to me,” you plead, your voice coated with exhaustion. The warmth of the living room seeps into your bones and makes you that much more tired. “I really, really don’t wanna do this tonight.”

“That asshole was all over you,” Steve finally chooses to air his grievances while he toes off his sneakers.

“He hugged me once! What was I supposed to do? Push him off?”

“That’d be a start.”

“I would’ve done it!” you promise.

He plops onto the couch with a rather dramatic huff as you struggle to take off your boots, what with the zipper getting caught in the slider and being distracted by the storm cloud across the room.

“I don’t care about him! I literally haven’t seen him since I was eighteen! I basically forgot he existed in the first place.”

Steve doesn’t let himself take any solace in your words.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs with the shake of his head. He rests his elbows on his knees, runs his palms over his face once before dragging his fingers through his mussed hair. “Sometimes… I don’t know, I guess, sometimes it feels like maybe you deserve someone better than me.”

His confession feels like a stab in your heart. 

You can only imagine how many daggers are piercing him now.

“Steve…”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit spiel, alright?” he spurns with a shake of his stubborn head. When he laughs, it lacks any and all emotion; it’s gut-wrenchingly bitter and coated with venom. “We both know he could take way better care of you than I ever could. He’s practically a fucking millionaire, babe! And he’s, what, twenty-five? He has the money to drop everything and fly across the world— to France.”

“Steve—” you try again, to stop the spiral before it starts.

He doesn’t let you.

“I mean, fuck, I know how bad you wanna go there. You’ve been talking about it since we were eight,” he laments with wide, glassy eyes and an hand splayed out towards you. He brings it, then, to his chest and clutches at his heart, “But I can’t take you. Because I’m so broke, it fucking hurts. You deserve someone to do that shit for you, alright? And it’s not me. It’s never gonna be me.”

“…You really think he can take better care of me than you do?” you ask him so quietly that it sounds like a whimper. Your face is twisted in anguish, like his sadness pains you too.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles like the answer’s obvious. He sniffles. “Considering we’re working our asses off just to make it through the week and you’d never have to work a day in your life if you were with that asshole.”

“It’s not about the money, Steve,” you agonize with the shake of your head. “I don’t love him. I would be so unhappy if I were with him because he’s not you. I don’t give a single fuck about France if you’re not gonna be there with me.”

You close the distance between you as you walk from the entrance to where he sits in the living room. He can hardly look at you as you round the couch to stand ahead of him, sparing only meek glances your way.

The small smile on your lips only half puts out the fire raging in his chest. It’s one of those natural wildfires now. The kind that you’ve just got to let burn.

“What do I have to do, Steve? What do you want me to do to prove that I just want you?” you ask him softly, nudging your sock-clad foot with his own. “I’ll fucking— I’ll find his number in the phone book right now and invite him over if you want—”

Yeah, because seeing him again is gonna make any of this shit better, he thinks bitterly to himself, though he’s pleasantly surprised by your following promise.

“I’ll make him come over here, act like I wanna catch up or whatever, and then make him watch while I suck your cock,” you paint the picture for him in a suddenly low, sultry tone.

Steve can almost see it —  the look on Todd’s face as he stands in the foyer, his hands balled into fists at his side, wearing an angry amber tint upon his perfect face while he watches the girl that got away take a mouthful of another man’s dick. “I’ll get all nice and pretty on my knees for you and make him watch.”

Steve tenses at your words. His fingers twitch where they rests on his knees, itching to get a hold of you. His eyes go heavy as he gazes up at you, his stern stare looking much darker than before — hungrier. 

Your eyes carry a similar sort of desire. They swim with innocence and yearning and knowing. 

Because both of you understand how your fights usually end. You’ve been together long enough to know. The anger grows and grows in the belly of a dragon until it’s all you can do to keep your hands off of each other. You make Steve come so hard he forgets all the reasons he was raging in the first place and then he apologizes with his tongue deep inside you, touching you in all the tender ways he knows how.

“Yeah,” he breathes with a nod, the word heavy on his tongue. “That’s what I want.”

“You wanna own me, don’t you, Stevie?” you purr.

Your movements are calculated and cat-like as you mount him. Your hands caress him from his knees to his thighs, then rise up to his chest when you straddle his lap. “You wanna fuck me and make me forget about every guy that’s ever had me before you. Is that it?”

He nods, too dumb to speak for now. Your voice is all silk and heat. It reminds him of your wet, hot pussy sitting just over his lap. Only the thin layers of your clothes separate you from him.

“You wanna ruin everyone else for me, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes, both in an answer and a moan as your hand reaches between you to grab his cock through his jeans.

“You already have,” you assure with a sincere twinkle in your eyes. “But feel free to remind me.”

When your mouths collide, it’s all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s not passionate, it’s dirty.

His tongue forces its way between your lips and into your mouth, rubbing every part of you he can reach with the muscle, like he wants you to feel all of him there — a lingering touch that you can’t get rid of.

Your mouths caress each other and then break apart again in acute, wet, and filthy clicks that fill the silence in the house. 

His stubble softly scratches you as it rubs against your skin. The feeling of it sends chills down your spine. Fuck, you curse to yourself. It’d feel even better between your legs.

Steve separates from you suddenly, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. A whimper leaves your throat as he mouths at it. With hooded eyes, he lets it go and watches it fall back into place. Then he grabs your cheeks with two large palms and drags you back to him, sucking on the bitten skin and then on your tongue. 

The sensation’s got you moaning, your eyes rolling back in your head, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Your obedient hands worm between your bodies to unbuckle his belt.

“You gonna be good for me?” Steve asks you while your fingers undo that button on his pants. His lips are pinker and more swollen, coated with a fine sheen of spit that matches what's smeared on his chin.

“I’ll be so good for you, Stevie,” you promise before reaching through the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his warm, half-hard cock. 

A grunt escapes his throat as he slides your panties to the side. He’s suddenly grateful for the easy access granted by your dress — the one that makes your tits look like heaven, the one he was cursing just hours because it had Todd drooling all over himself when he saw you.

The thought of the man no longer angers him. He’s not the one with his finger between the lips of your pussy, already drenched and coated with you.

“Yeah? You want daddy to fill your hungry little cunt?” Steve asks you, almost taunting you. He only uses that nickname when he’s in a certain mood — the mood to ruin you.

The tip of his finger catches the peak of your swollen clit and you keen.

His touch makes you so stupid that you’ve already forgotten to answer his question. He makes sure to remind you, though, when his hand rears back and smacks against the bare flesh of your cunt.

You hear the wet slap before you feel it. 

It makes you clench around nothing and moan louder for him, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Words,”he demands softly.

“Please,” you moan helplessly into his shoulder. You love when he gets like this, assertive and showy with the power you let him have over you. He gets mean with you, but never too much that you forget how much he loves you, and that’s when you like him best.

His finger slips so effortlessly into you. You could easily take more than that with the way your pussy is so eager to suck him inside. He knows it, too. He just wants to tease you.

He wants to leave you empty and yearning before he fucks you silly. For now, he’s taunting you with his slow and clinical touch, observing everything he’s doing to you and how it has you twitching and begging for more. 

He wants to commit it all to memory. 

He’s barely got the tip of his pointer and middle finger prodding at your clenching entrance; it’s your pussy that drags them further in, opening for him and then tightening around the appendages so they’ll never leave. The obscenity of it makes both of you moan.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Steve mutters to himself. “And so fucking wet— enough for me to slip right in, don’t ya think?”

You’re not so sure but you nod into his shoulder anyway. Even after all this time together, you can’t quite get used to how big he is. He still has to work you up to take his cock, with three or more fingers shoved inside of you until you’re ready. Even then, it still burns for the first couple of seconds. There’s always a grace period that you have to wait for before he can move. 

And you feel the ache of him in your belly after, every damn time. Like he’s still there.

But you’re so wet now, impossibly so, you don’t think you could feel a thing other than pure bliss when he nestles his cock deep inside of you.

You whine quietly when he pulls his fingers from you, though it turns into a breathy moan when you see them glisten with your wetness. He slides them over his length, jerking himself to lube himself up for you. Just for good measure, he grabs hold of his cock and rubs the rounded tip between your velvet lips, coating it further with your slick. 

“Think there’s enough for me to take your ass tonight, baby?” he asks over your low moan. He has to hold back his own, grit his teeth to keep it from leaving his mouth. God, you feel exactly like silk. “You want me to fuck that tight little hole, huh? You’ve only let me in there, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer tightly. 

He doesn’t know which question you’re answering. Probably all three. Or maybe you’re just moaning because he’s got you all stupid with his cock and it’s not even inside of you yet. Both seems most likely.

Steve positions himself against you. When you feel the bulbous tip of his head, you hardly wait to slide down, down, down upon his cock. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel full. It takes less time before he reaches the apparent end of you. The feeling makes you jolt against him, like your body’s trying to move back up and away from the sensation on instinct. He’s quick to grab your hips to keep himself inside you.

“Uh-uh,” he hums. “Don’t run away from me.”

“Fuck,” you moan into his shoulder and then whine. The pleasure and the accompanying ache has your head spinning. “You’re already so deep.”

“I know, baby. You gotta take all of me, though, okay? Said you were gonna me by good girl, remember?”

His coo is enough to comfort you. You nod against his neck and let him guide you further and further down his cock.

You grit your teeth when you think he can’t possibly fill you anymore. The burn peaks all at once and ebbs so quickly, letting the rest of his inches slide in you with ease. And, god, if you don’t feel him in your fucking throat. 

He stills, thankfully, and lets you get used to the feeling of him all over again.

“There you go,” Steve praises like he always does and then laughs at how rigid you’ve gone. “Breathe, baby.”

The exhale comes out as a sob and a small “fuck”, but you force yourself to relax against him nonetheless. His warm hands rub soothingly against the buzzing skin of your thighs beneath the skirt of your dress. “Doing so good for me, baby.”

“I can feel you in my fucking guts right now,” you slur, voice fragile like glass.

Your words are almost enough to make him burst and you haven’t even moved yet. A deep, hearty groan climbs from his throat. He tips his heavy head to the back of the couch and clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the feeling.

He makes himself climb down from the peak of pleasure and quickly gain his bearings all over again.

“Ride me, honey,” he whispers you.

Immediately, you start rocking your hips against him. His sigh is blissful, almost dreamy, as he watches you work yourself on top of him. 

You’re always so patient with your pleasure, so calculated and attentive. You slide your hips back over his thighs and then up again, moaning every time the material of his sweatshirt rubs against your clit. You’re not chasing the feeling, you’re letting it come slowly and ease its way up to you. You know you’ve got all the time in the world.

Steve has always admired your patience, but it’s never one he could hope to possess. He rides toward an orgasm on a white mare. He claims it, he hunts it, he snatches it. Because, you’re right, you’ve got all the time in the world — he wants you to come as many times as the night (or, rather, your pussy) will allow.

So it isn’t at all surprising when gets impatient with your slow movements. And when one hand falls to your ass and the other slides up your back and clutches the opposite shoulder, you know what you’re in for. 

Even though you’re expecting it, a high-pitched moan spills from your mouth when he starts fucking up into you. He’s doing a whole lot more than just hitting the right spot. The rubbing of the fabric is unrelenting against your clit.

You’re always done for when he takes you like this. Both of you know it.

“You already close, aren’t you?” he manages through heavy pants over the lewd slapping of his thighs against your own. “This is all it takes, huh?”

“’S because of you,” you slur into the sticky skin of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He can feel himself getting closer and he groans through gritted teeth. The hand on your shoulder ascends to the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair and pull you from the refuge you’d found in the book of his shoulder. It allows him to see you for the first time since you’d mounted his cock.

Your cheeks are blotchy and glowing cherry. Your eyes are glassy and glazed over with pleasure. Your lips swollen from where you’d been biting at them. 

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He drags that hand to your chest, wrenching at the plunging neck and pushing it down to reveal your tits. They bound out of the fabric with ease, a small red and raw line at the tops of them from where the dress had kept them so tightly contained. 

He palms at your left breast, digs his fingers into the fat of it and lets your hard and pebbled nipple rub against his palm.

“Fuck, baby,” he almost whines. It takes all of his willpower to keep his eyes open to look at them. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why I wore this— wanted your attention—” you confess through each of his thrusts.

“Yeah, you got my fucking attention, sweetheart,” he manages a breathy laugh.

His heart swells at the thought of you picking this dress because you thought he might like it. That you’d think of him doing something as mundane as picking what you wore out to the bar you went to every Friday night. 

It gets too easy to want to slip into that softness. But he knows that you’re already close. So, so fucking close. 

“Now come all over my cock for me, yeah?” he demands softly. “Cream on this dick and show me how good you are.”

And, like the good girl you are, don’t need to be told twice.

You shudder against him and then go rigid. He watches with a proud, lazy grin as you tip your head back, squeeze your eyes shut, and let your mouth fall agape. The feeling in your stomach builds and builds and builds, the pleasure disappearing for a moment, before coming back in an explosion that makes you gush.

As though your moans weren’t enough of a confirmation of your orgasm, you go so unmistakably tight around him that it makes his legs twitch beneath you. He angles his hips so he can peek between the two of you to watch the sheen of your cum glisten on his hard cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking sensitive like this— holy shit.”

“Steve!” you whine when your high starts to fade and his thrusts only quicken. 

He's chasing his own pleasure now, you know that, but the feeling against your abused pussy is growing into a nearly unbearable one.

You bite your lip so hard it’s a wonder you don’t draw any blood. You grip his shoulders and ball his sweatshirt in your fist, tethering yourself to him and to reality.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he asks with his chin jutted out to look up at you. “Who else can fuck you like this?”

You can tell by his glassy eyes and erratic thrusts that he’s close to his own orgasm. He always wants you to talk him through it, to praise him and to tell him how good he makes you feel. For obvious reason, the whole thing comes terribly natural to you.

“Only you,” you promise tiredly. “’S just you, Stevie—”

“Fuck,” he spits and tilts his head to the back of the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and brings his bottom lip between his teeth, never easing his impossibly swift thrusts.

“Want you to come in me,” you whisper to him. You rest your arms on his shoulders and drag your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and pulling every time he lets a moan slip. “Want you to come so deep inside me— I’m dripping for days—”

“Shit, baby.”

“And then, when I’m all round and full with your baby— everyone’s gonna know who I belong to, right?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Gonna come so— fuck— so nice and deep in this pussy. My pussy.”

“Please,” you beg, like you aren’t half-delirious with your own pleasure. “Come in your pussy, Stevie.”

“Holy shit—” His cock pulses and twitches and then spits inside you. He grabs onto your hips more roughly than he intended and keeps you tightly pressed against him while he comes, giving you several long and warm ropes against your velvet walls. He whimpers when your pussy flutters around him.

You collapse against him when his orgasm comes and goes, rocking against his lap to get him through his high until he stops you with a firm squeeze to your thigh. You both sink further into the couch, swimming in the peaceful void that pleasure always pushes you into. 

He rubs his hands beneath the skirt of your dress, petting your warm and sticky skin as the after-sex bliss rest heavily upon the both of you.

“Here,” he breaks the satin silence and taps at your hip. “Get off, baby. Let me get you some water or something—”

He feels you shake your head from where you’ve tucked it in his shoulder again. “Don’t wanna move. Want you to stay inside me.”

“Yeah?”

You’ve never done this before — cockwarming. He’s not sure if you have before, but he definitely hasn’t, and certainly not with you. 

Before you, he was the kind of asshole that went to sleep right after sex. The thought of staying inside his partner never crossed his mind. But to his defense, none of his partners thought to do it either. Being King Steve and all meant there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on after sex. It was usually one-and-done affairs, but he never did this with any of his girlfriends before either.

And now that he’s matured into a somewhat respectable adult, he takes great pride in taking care of you after, in cleaning you up and making sure you’re alright. And when you’re either falling asleep or wanting to shower, there’s no room to be kept inside you. Not until now.

“Wanna fall asleep like this,” you confess. The way you’re halfway slurring and settling more heavily against him tells him you’re not too far off.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable for you, baby,” he scolds softly. Because him — he’s perfect like this. He’s slouched in the plush cushion of the couch and you’re wrapped so tightly around him (in every possible way) you've become his own personal blanket. 

But your back is hunched from where your neck is snug and pressed into his shoulder. You’ll likely wake up aching tomorrow, in more ways than one.

“Don’t care,” you mumble and sprinkle kisses to his neck, just because you can. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

“Forever?” he laughs tiredly.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You shift on his lap to look at him, exhaling a moan through your nose when you feel him twitch inside of you, even though he’s going steadily soft. Your gaze is innocent and yearning and knowing — hungry again. “Think you can take that, Harrington?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he promises with a sincere twinkle in his cinnamon colored eyes. “I can take it.”

[zivazivc]

What kind of nu metal music fits Les's band?

First of all I gotta clarify that I sent this ask myself because I accidentally lost the original through constant editing and drafting. I realize I could just make a regular text post but I'm quirky like that, and a question is a nice little attention grabber for those who are interested.

Anyway...

It's hard to point at one song and say this is their sound, because A: I'm picky, B: the band's style changes over time, and C: I don't know what I'm doing lmao

This answer is very long uhh I don't seem to be able to form short responses, mi scusi 😅

Back at home the brothers' music and then also the first year on the road with Flea the band sounds like the albums Music and especially Grassroots by 311. (Grassroots is such a banger of an album, I listen to it all the time, really recommend.)

Hed's the main influence on the band's sound because he's the main vocalist, songwriter and overall the most invested in the band succeeding (Les's main concern is making ends meet, and Flea is just enjoying the ride lol). At the start Hed and Les have had basically no contact with Rock Trolls so even though they're both more metal/punk than regular rock, their "rock side" is softer at this point. Hed also grew up with hip hop because of his peers so there's a lot of rapping in his lyrics. And he also incorporates reggae into his style a lot because of his favorite uncle, Kymani (one of the guys who live with Ish) who is a Reggae Troll. Hed is pretty much a sponge when it comes to music, much like Floyd. The closest I can come to describing his genre is a fusion of Rap Metal and Reggae Rock which are both already fusion genres jskksdjsk

(The band 311 has two singers and oddly they both sound like Hed and Les to me. SA Martinez (the higher of the two voices) sounds 100%, exactly like how I've imagined Hed's voice in my head. For Les I have a different voice claim because Les's personal style of music is much different from the band, but Nick Hexum (the lead vocalist here) is still in the second place when it comes to voice alone. Imagine my enthusiastic surprise finding voices for both brothers in the same band 😄)

examples from the two albums:

...

While driving around and performing small gigs they come in contact with the alternative and nu metal scene and meet a lot of Rock Trolls (mostly various Metal Trolls) and other mixed trolls, and in the following couple of years their sound gradually becomes heavier (Hed rediscovers screamo lol) and they go from rock to metal.

A year into their "touring" is also around the time Hed meets and starts dating Liv and gets her to join the band. Liv's genre has the heaviest sound of all of them (Industrial/EBM), which influences Hed and the band too. And with Liv on the drums, Hed takes over DJ-ing and is also able to put more focus on the vocals, which also makes Les step down and only sing backing vocals with the rest of the band if needed.

The band in this era sounds like the album Revolution by Insolence and to some degree Introduction to Mayhem by Primer 55.

examples from the albums:

...

Two years into the bands existence is when Floyd runs into them. At first he's more just standing there, observing their practices and performances warily, because he's had bad experiences with Rock Trolls in his one year alone and metal music still kinda freaks him out at this point. But he soon starts joining in in melodic parts and then it progresses into him singing longer and longer segments because he has the strongest vocals of everyone. And once he saves enough of his earnings for a guitar he starts playing the rhythm guitar too. (The guitar he took with him when he left the Troll Tree got stolen before he met the band.)

I guess I should clarify: Flea is the lead guitarist, Les is the bassist, and Liv and Hed switch on the drums and DJ-ing depending on the track. At one point they also get a keyboard.

It's also not that long before Hed and Floyd start actively writing songs together, sharing each others notes, and they start to split the singing parts more evenly. Hed even teaches Floyd screamo techniques, because he thinks Floyd has a great voice for them (He is correct, Floyd has a mean scream 😁).

During this time the band still pretty much sounds like Revolution by Insolence but with more melodic singing parts from Floyd (and screaming/shouting lmao). I think Verge of Umbra is another good band to compare, it sounds more clean and Floydy but still Hedy. (Man, I should write scientific research papers skjdkjf)

↑↑↑ song with the lyrics from the drawing at the top

From here on out I'm a bit unsure how the band's sound develops, but I'm pretty sure Floyd would unintentionally infect them with a mild case of radio friendliness (Pop trolls can't help their in your face nature lmao 😞). So for now I'm stopping here...

This took me days of searching and writing so I would appreciate to hear any thoughts you have if you've come this far and given some of the songs a listen. :)

[beautifulqueerexistence]

I remember standing in the bathroom of my Church’s Youth Group meeting at fifteen, hands pushing back my chest to try and imagine an alternative world where it didn’t fill out.

I remember telling my girlfriend at the time how I wanted a reduction, how my back pain was getting worse… but specifically leaving out the fact that my chest felt foreign and detached.

I remember my mom obsessively commenting on my long hair, never letting a day go by where I wasn’t reminded of how beautiful and healthy it was… how my long hair was a gift.

I remember the panic in middle gym class when the group was separated between boys and girls, my heart torn between the two before I even had the words or courage to understand why.

I remember cutting my hair, how many taunts and comments were made. “Such a shame,” I’d be told over and over from girls who envied the length I had freed myself from.

I remember watching the only openly out transgender kid having to walk half a mile across campus to change in the nurse’s office for gym class, only getting to participate in gym for ten minutes before he was forced to walk back to change in time for his next class. I remember how horribly he was treated by my peers, who called it his “walk of shame,” and promising myself that I’d never let myself be put in that position.

But most of all, I remember looking in the mirror after several weeks of isolating quarantine. The sting of my church’s rejection still fresh and the abandonment I felt from God. I remember begging to be fixed, to have this suffocating, confusing feeling torn out of the body that was supposed to be mine. I remember tracing over every little arbitrary gender rule, tearing through my closet of leggings, dresses, and skirts, unable to find a single article of clothing that actually felt like mine. I remember the bittersweet feeling of finishing a theatrical production, saying goodbye to the character I was expected to embody, and feeling that same nostalgia for the girl in the mirror before me. I remember suffocating out any piece of me that didn’t suit her role, the expectations people had for her, and feeling as though her very existence contrasted my ability to live. I remember how my life wasn’t my own, rather countless strings pulling me to dance and dress and act the part they all expected me to play. I remember the night I realized that stage was supposed to be mine.

I’ve been on testosterone for two years, and I get top surgery in 5 days. Though I remember the sacrifices I made for her character to thrive, I no longer find myself grieving who she could have been. Instead, I see a clear stage, ready for whatever set I build, whatever story I wish to portray. For the first time in a long time, the mirror in front of me no longer shows the girl I gave up 18 years for… but the person they were always meant to grow into. Though I now face my own version of the walk to the nurse’s office, I see now that his choice was one of bravery, not shame. He represented a courage I had not yet found, and planted a seed in me that knew all of this was arbitrary and pointless. Because he had chosen himself to be visible, I would eventually go on to set my weights down and join his stride. I don’t know where he is now, and I don’t know what lays in his walk… but I’m forever grateful he was bold enough to show himself for people like me.

[obey-me-hoe]

THE BROTHERS' PACT MARKS

💙💛🧡💚🩷❤️💜

Here are what the brothers pact marks look like for my MCs. I hc that the pact marks appear different for each person but I didn't wanna make two different versions for my two MCs (these took so long to begin with) so they are gonna be the same for both of them. I wanted to go for more of a tattoo look for them. Each mark represents the brother's sin (derived from their symbol) and associated creature (more details and closer look for each below the cut)

Here are all the pact marks together (click the pictures for better resolution):

Here are all the symbols for reference:

Each pact mark also features little diamonds (Mammon's is a bit different) that represent the other brothers. I hc that they show up on each pact mark you already have once you make a new pact with one of the other brothers (kind of like a way to show your progress). This represents the bond of the brothers with each other as well as MC.

LUCIFER - Peacock

💙 For Lucifer's I kind of just flipped his symbol upside down to get the overall shape of the mark.

💙 The top bit is actually part of a peacock feather just like the ones on the back of his coat.

💙 I wanted to give the blue parts a feather like texture but it didn't turn out right so I just left them blue.

💙 The placement is over MC's chest/ribs because when you feel Pride you usually feel it in your chest.

💙 People also tend to puff out their chests when they are proud.

MAMMON - Crow

💛 For Mammon's I started his symbol on MC's hand and had the tails wrap around their arm all the way up to right below the elbow.

💛 The wrapping of the tails represents Mammon's need to have MC all to himself.

💛 His mark manifests on MC's dominant arm (I'm left handed so I did the left arm) as a way to convey his importance to MC.

💛 The placement is the dominant hand/forearm because Greed can be seen as taking as much as you want of something and the dominant arm is the one that is usually used.

💛 I also placed it there because I imagine Mammon being greedy for MC's presence so he keeps his arm wrapped around theirs in an attempt to keep them close.

💛 His mark is the most visible which serves to remind the brothers that he is MC's first man.

💛 It also serves as a warning to any who wish to harm MC (Mammon will always protect HIS human).

💛 His creature is represented by the two little crows on MC's hand that are looking out for MC's safety (that's why they're looking away from MC).

LEVIATHAN - Serpent

🧡 For Levi I decided on making his serpent like symbol wrap around MC's thigh.

🧡 The placement is the thigh because Envy is rooted deep down inside and can drag you down with it.

🧡 It also constricts you and makes you feel trapped both physically and mentally just like what some serpents do to their prey.

🧡 It being on the left side is just because I wanted it on the same side as Mammon's (since they're my two faves).

🧡 I hc that Levi likes to wrap his tail around MC's leg as a way to ground himself when he's stressed.

SATAN - Unicorn

💚 For Satan I just directly used his symbol because it already looks so cool.

💚 The placement is the thigh because much like envy, Wrath can be felt deep down and will pull you down with it.

💚 The horns (although a unicorn only has one) stretch out to both the inner and outer sides of the thigh to represent how wrath can hurt not only others but the one who is feeling the wrath as well (outer thigh is others and inner thigh is self).

💚 The black and green alternating are a nod to the shirt Satan wears while in demon form.

💚 Much like Levi, I hc that Satan wraps his tail around MC's leg (he doesn't realize he's doing it) to help ground him when he feels the wrath taking over.

ASMODEUS - Scorpion

🩷 For Asmo I went with the idea of his symbol wrapping around MC's lower back around to the front to simulate him hugging MC from behind.

🩷 The mark wrapping around MC's body is also a nod to the scorpion Asmo has wrapped around him in his demon form.

🩷 The curling designs on the mark represent the curling tail of the scorpion.

🩷 The intimate placement is reminiscent of a tramp stamp which people usually associate with Lust.

🩷 The mark also focuses on the the hips which are often touched or grabbed in lustful situations.

BEELZEBUB - Fly

❤️ For Beel I used his symbol directly as it already looks like his wings in demon form.

❤️ The details on the wings are reminiscent of fly wings.

❤️ The placement is right on the stomach over the bellybutton to reference Beel's neverending hunger that's caused by his Gluttony.

❤️ While gluttony doesn't always refer to eating all the time (although that is the case for Beel), it is what people usually think of when they hear the word.

BELPHEGOR - Cow

💜 Belphie's is located on the back of MC's neck/shoulders because those are the spots that usually touch the pillow when sleeping.

💜 Those that are overtaken with Sloth can sometimes be seen slouching which also plays into the placement of the mark.

💜 The top two arms of the mark wrap around to the sides of the neck.

💜 The wrapping is reminiscent of Belphie always cuddling his pillow.

💜 The black and white spots on the shoulders represent Belphie's creature, a cow.

💜 They also match the spots on his demon form clothing.

I had so much fun making these so I hope y'all enjoy!

💙💛🧡💚🩷❤️💜

[MCs Lore]

[groovyfrog420]

SV Redeemed AU

INTRODUCTION / DISCLAIMER

First things first, these designs for Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are FAR into the future. Quite literally end game phase of the story, the “they grow old together and live happily ever after”. There's a long way to get there, and while I will write some of my thoughts about their journey, I'm a shitty writer. There's no single thought-out plot, it's just bits and pieces of my thoughts in one place. 

I don't think I'd be making a tag or naming this AU anything specific. I'm still calling it an AU because there is a bit of canon divergence, but I don’t have a start-to-finish story. (EDIT: wellp that lasted long. new name is #False-Truth AU because I like the oxymoron. I still don't think I'll do much - maybe a few short comics, which you'll be able to find under that tag on my profile)

Keep in mind that these are just my own interpretations, if you imagine these cookies acting differently, that's ok! This is just my own made-up alternate version

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT - don't say I didn't warn ya

I’ve tried to divide it into sections, so if you are looking for just smth specific / only care about one of the characters, you can skip right to it!

Prepare for the ramblings. 

PURE VANILLA'S DESIGN 

more relaxed now - doesn’t need to keep up perfect appearances and the image of a hero, so he can lay back a bit more. (messier, less perfectly styled hair - more like his younger years. comfier clothes.) 

focusing on herbology - with less power now (why explained below) and trying to not overwork himself, he’s taken to different healing methods, as well as taking on gardening as a hobby

slightly more open eyes - (heavily elaborated on bellow) 

different staff - due to being able to use his own eyes more now, as well as staying more on the low, he’d decided to retire the famous staff. Since it’s a flower, it was planted somewhere and allowed to blossom and grow freely - fitting symbolism for a new beginning, I think. The lantern light glowing blue makes it easier on his eyes.

PV STORY BITS 

In this AU Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla retire together. I think PV would still like to teach, but would focus more on the medical and practical side of things, like herbs and healing practices. (He’ll leave telling tales about the past  to Shadow Milk, though he might throw in his own comments from time to time…) He mostly offers advice and shares every-day methods for protection of different kinds with those who ask, but may take on an apprentice or few to fully pass down his healing knowledge to. He uses magic sparingly now. 

This way with not focusing on a variety of subjects and many, many students, he’s able to rest more and doesn’t have to split himself between multiple worries. He can focus properly and give his students more individual attention, to make sure his knowledge will be retained for the future. 

Eyes

(don't jump me pls read the footnote) 

I've decided to take the closed/covered eyes motif PV has in a bit more symbolic way *. I want to interpret it as PV being blind (=ignorant) to the world around him, choosing to see the world and his own actions in an idealized light, and to look away from anything that doesn't fit that idea. Light sensitivity would be very ironic yet fitting - since his own powers are very light-based, by using them to help others he’d be blindinding/hurting himself in the process... 

Over time, he realizes how futile it is. Even if he turns his eyes away from the wrongdoing in the world, from his own mistakes and imperfections, they will still continue to happen. He begins to understand that he has to accept that neither he nor the world is perfect, to stop wallowing over the past and start fixing the present. To keep moving forward and keep working on himself, not hide his imperfections under literal and figurative wraps. 

With the help of Shadow Milk, he begins to open his eyes more and more and accept the real truth, no matter how imperfect it is. 

*I’m not sure how confirmed it was in canon that he’s blind (from what I’ve seen it was mostly implied, but still). I'm not erasing that - for the sake of this AU, I'd like to say that he has partial issues with sight (including the mentioned light sensitivity), but now he learns to accommodate them rather than ignore them and hurt himself more for the sake of others. No, he doesn't magically gain full sight now, but he's more comfortable, healthier, and more honest about the world around him with all of its imperfections. 

Burnout

I believe SM and PV complete each other so perfectly because they can help each other grow in areas where the other is lacking/struggling. With PV, I’d like to focus on burnout, false ideas, and how the pressure he’s constantly under has affected him. He was very much just a normal guy before receiving his Soul Jam. Years beyond a normal cookie’s lifespan of hard work and trying to be the perfect leader, to always ensure the happiness of all his people (whether that be as king or otherwise) are bound to take a toll on anyone. Obviously he'd never admit that, always putting everyone else before his own needs, and he’d likely run himself into the grave. That's where I think Shadow Milk would be helpful - he’d make him realize how unsustainable what he’s doing really is. He wasn’t built for handling immense power for all of eternity, he’s just a single cookie and whether he likes it or not, he can’t save everyone or make every single one of his people happy... Being selfish isn’t entirely wrong, sometimes might even be necessary. 

Onto the idea of false truth - Pure Vanilla has a very idealized view of a lot of things and people. He’s trying to see everyone in the best light, but he also holds a high standard for himself - that he must be the ideal, shining and caring hero and a beacon of perfection . Shadow Milk is likely to pick that image apart - probably not in the kindest way, saying that in trying to be perfectly selfless, PV is putting himself on the pedestal above everyone else while still being just a single cookie with limited capabilities. He’d likely call this image egoistical, and while PV would argue that he’s doing it for the good of others (he is helping after all, right?), Shadow Milk wouldn’t be entirely wrong - this way of thinking, that he’s the one who must take care of everyone else, is harmful for both him and the ones he’s trying to protect. 

Shadow Milk would show him that truth is relative, that “pure truth” doesn’t exist, for anyone could interpret it differently. That PV isn’t (and doesn't have to be) the perfect blameless hero. That his people aren’t as good or pure as he’d like to give them credit for, but neither are they helpless. 

Shadow Milk metaphorically and literally helps him open his eyes - he slowly learns to lay back, to accept the reality and “truth”, whatever it may be, and is no longer blinding and burning himself out by trying to help everyone at once. With a new mindset and outlook of the world, he can allow himself to retire, and leave a calmer, out-of-the-spotlight life. 

Retirement

Ok, controversial idea, but I think the ancients will have to one day retire and pass down their SoulJams. Yes, I played Cookie Odyssey, I know how important it is to them, but hear me out. As I said above (which is shown in the game btw, but correct me if I'm wrong), they were just normal cookies before taking on the roles of the Ancient Heros. Cookies with high achievements, yes, but still. They aren’t The Beasts, baked specifically for the purpose of handling the Soul Jams, and even then, The Beasts weren’t perfect. I’m not saying they’re bound to get corrupted like their predecessors did, but I am saying that this role is bound to take a toll on them. Not even just from the perspective of power, even just handling so many responsibilities with running their kingdoms is going to be extremely draining mentally. (Physically likely too, even if they’re said to stay “always young” thanks to the Soul Jams - many stories teach that you can’t mess with nature and that nothing lasts forever...)

I don’t know who they’d pass the Soul Jams along too - whether that’d be Gingerbrave and his friends, or a new batch of heroes, that is to be decided. The point is, they have served their purpose, they have (from the perspective of this AU) defeated Dark Enchantress, and deserve to now leave the rest of  their lives in peace.

SHADOW MILK'S DESIGN 

“mellowed out” a bit - continues to be eccentric and dramatic, but less manic

still unsettling - most level-headed cookies upon meeting him immediately get a feeling that there's something.. off about him, even if they can't put their finger on it. (I purposefully left some of his corrupted design elements or callbacks to them, like the marking over his eye, for that reason) 

vibrant, colorful, very extra in both behavior and looks, everything he does he does with drama and flourish 

quiets down when out of the eyes of the public, or alone with Pure Vanilla 

peacock elements - fitting for someone with such a vibrant personality. also the eye connection is perfect - if you look closely at the feather he's wearing, you might even notice a familiar symbol in its “eye”

a playful bard - (elaborated heavily bellow) - an identity allows him to enjoy his favorite activities, while also being a slight callback to his academic past 

SM STORY BITS

The bard 

While spending more time with Pure Vanilla, PV encouraged him to pursue his creative interests. Partly to have smth to get SM’s mind off of causing chaos, and partly because they let him indulge and express himself without causing any serious damage. Now he’s joined PV in retirement, though still not fully stepping down from the stage.

Being a bard allows Shadow Milk to indulge in everything he likes most: being the center of attention, dramatics, theatrics, mischief, a tasteful dose of lies and half-truths, but also, in a way, calling back to his past self: for while a lot of his stories are made-up tales, he can also share the history of Earthbread that he’s witnessed. Yes, he may do so through over-dramatic performances or behind caricatural characters, but every tale holds a grain of truth, does it not? Whether his audience chooses to believe him or not is their choice to make.

Referencing the fact that a big part of human history survived through word of mouth, and how storytellers play an important role in preserving it, I think it’s only fitting to make him a bard.

About visual choices

I made his redeemed design less chaotic and asymmetrical, but still vibrant and based mostly on his current color palette, rather than the one from Blueberry Academy. That's because while he may be rediscovering his interests from the past, he’s not the person he was before corruption and never will be again. Instead, he too is learning to rediscover the world in a new light, with a new identity. 

Visually I’ve tried to keep some elements from his current design, if slightly toned down: a wide collar, puffy sleeves, a flowy cape. Elements of his corruption are also still there: different colored sclera (= his one eye being black), the sharp teeth. He may have settled down and calmed down slightly, but he remains as playful as ever :)) 

He still causes local chaos once in a while or resorts to pranking unsuspecting cookies nearby (the slight charring at the bottom of PV’s robe is a result of one of such pranks getting out of hand), and PV has accepted that he'll never be a calm, put-together cookie he once might have been. However, SM's learned to not be a danger to others for the sake of the one he cares about the most, and that's enough for the both of them. 

And that's all for now! If you've managed to get this far, thank you SO much for your patience, I hope you've enjoyed my thoughts and brainworms <3

[eliossun]

HOT FREAKS!

synopsis : an alternate universe, where you face a particularly warm summer. and maybe, you've just realized that you're in deep, deep trouble.

characters : daisuke (mouthwashing) x gn!reader

content : crushing. a lot of crushing.

wc : 600+

author notes at the end!!!

it's summer.

the sun is bright, with the fan on full speed, and frozen treats will eventually melt onto your hand, sticky residue forgotten. 

it's /summer/.

that means you'll be loitering around a certain boy’s room with the windows open, and the low buzz of pixelated music in the background. it’s a routine at this point, the way your body finds itself at the same spot every year, slouching on the messy bed. it sports different patterned sheets every time you visit. it was pandas last time, and this time - it seems to be hibiscus patterned. 

you swear that there was a shirt with the same exact print in his closet. did he buy it in a set, or something? you try to imagine what the person who thought to do this, and what they were thinking. … ah. does it really matter? 

you would normally entertain these questions - but the way your brain is getting fried right now isn’t really helping. the heat is really getting to you. “hey.”

- and your counterpart seems to have gotten the memo.

your eyes flicker towards his, to at least acknowledge that you did hear him, and god. 

he looks like he’s suffering as much as you are. but with the way his features gleam when the sun shines on him is unfair. how come you’re stuck with clothes glued onto your skin, damp and wet from sweat, while he gets to look like - you don’t know - a highschool heart throb? 

his hair filters the sunlight - making his hair look like it’s glowing brown, while his eyes seem to gleam - looking more golden than brown right at the moment. .. god. you’re so pissed. “why do you seem more upset now..”

daisuke frowns, and you only notice then, that you’re also frowning. you immediately correct your expression. you look away, arms folded. “nothing.”

“ooooo-kay. weirdo.”

you continue to sulk. not that you would admit that you were sulking, of course. .. so the next best thing to do is to make sure you looked like you weren’t sulking. you try your best - face slowly straightening out, removing any semblance of a pout, or any expression at all. it’s rather hard to do, once again, because of the heat.

you close your eyes. this is all because of the heat. you won't accept defeat. you're going to face the epitome of sunshine straight on, and you're going to win. after much self-convincing, you open your eyes, ready to face the sun itself.

but when you finally look back at him, you’re not met with a view of the male sitting beside you with his eyes trained on the television, no.

you’re instead met with brown hair kissing your own hair strands, his face so close - and his lips even closer. 

and he seems oblivious about it - a smile on his lips, dimples showing, as a triumph look shines in his eyes.

“done sulking?”

with each syllabus - you can feel the heat of his breath hit your skin.

you can barely breathe. your chest feels so full. your brain isn’t responding.

fuck.

you can’t get your eyes off him.

fuck.

“let’s play a ga-oomf!”

before your brain could formulate another thought, you slammed a pillow onto his face. as soon as he was down on the bed, temporarily immobilised, you immediately scramble towards the exit of the room, door already open, and your heart pounding than your own voice -

“you suck! you really suck!"

a pause ensues. before you shuffle back to the door frame - with only your middle finger in view for the male to see.

“fuck you!” you could already imagine his face of confusion once you come back. god - you'll deal with it later. for now you'll deal with the warmness in your face, and the same one in your chest that feels like it's going to explode.

this is all because of the heat. you swear.

hi. i hope you like it :33 title reference : hot freaks suits daisuke so much. this is a small snippet of what i have in mind. reader (at this point, it feels like an oc, doesnt it..) is the black cat counterpart of daisuke (golden retriever). this is the point where reader realized that they had a crush on daisuke. they have a bit of history, maybe went to high school for a while tgt, or maybe they're childhood friends :) it's up to interpretation. my reqs are open! i can write a more neutral reader oorr if youd prefer, my own reader !! (the one in this fic) tysm for reading my first fic in a while! edit : small typo! (im unsure what else to tag this with……... )