#maybe probably uncle jack?

[charmac]

Frank Vs. Russia

Okay I'm reallllly done waiting for the official press to release the plot and this week at work is gonna be incredibly rough for me so I'm gonna throw all my evidence down tonight for this episode:

Directed by Heath Cullens and Written by Megan Ganz:

This is airing as Episode 4, but was written and filmed with the production code 1602:

Episode 1602 was the first episode filmed for Season 16.

(Further, Health Cullens is labelled as the director here for 1602, whereas we know Richie Keen directed S16 Episode 2 (1604), Frank Shoots Every Member of the Gang)

We have a BTS video from Rob for this episode, celebrating the first day of filming:

Notice the outfits? C'mon who could forget that ugly fuckin' shirt Glenn-Dennis-is wearing?

Now the title "Frank Vs. Russia" kinda tells us everything else we need to know about spotting clips for this one. So here's a compilation of stills for you:

And so, per my deductions I've written my own summary.

Frank Vs. Russia: "When Frank and Charlie visit Bonnie for [insert some family member's name]'s birthday, Charlie discovers Frank was once a competitive chess player. The two take on a local chess tournament where a Russian kid is favored to win. Meanwhile, Dennis attempts to help Mac and Dee with their struggling dating lives by teaching them a revised version of the D.E.N.N.I.S. System."

[chrismcshell]

due to Circumstances, there is a greater-than-zero chance that my sister and i will have a dog soon

[monzabee]

hotch, hotchner and the other hotchner - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: sean meets jack’s nanny. aaron is not happy about it.  

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: girlies are fighting in this one, not much of sean i have to admit, aaron is a little bit of an ass but he comes around, almost crying but not, arguing (duh)

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Family is complicated. That much, at least, you and Aaron agree on. 

“What was I supposed to say?” You ask him, aggressively chopping up the remainder of the carrot in front of you. “‘Sorry, your emotionally unavailable brother doesn’t want to see you, it's because he's so emotionally constipated that he doesn’t know how to speak to you?’” 

Aaron's jaw clenches from where he stands across the kitchen, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and his tie is tugged loose—an unspoken sign that he's not just here as the unit chief tonight. He's here as Jack's father. As Sean's brother. And, apparently, as the man who thinks you're out of line. 

“I'm not emotionally constipated,” Aaron says, slowly and evenly, like he’s trying not to bite. 

You raise an eyebrow, still focused on the chopping board. “Really? Because the last time someone tried to hug you, I swear I saw you glitch like a robot short-circuiting.” 

That gets a flicker of something across his face. Maybe amusement. Maybe guilt. It's hard to tell with Aaron—his expressions are like those security-locked doors at Quantico: hard to crack and probably booby-trapped. 

“You didn’t have to let him in,” he says, quieter now. 

You pause mid-slice and finally look up at him. “He’s your brother. Jack’s uncle. And maybe—just maybe—he was trying to make an effort. You don’t get to be the gatekeeper of someone else's second chance, Aaron.” 

The silence that follows is thick enough to chew on. You don’t break eye contact, and he doesn’t flinch. Typical. It’s been nothing but a war of wills between the two of you ever since he took you to that FBI gala. You’d expect things to be different, and not like this. 

“I trust you with Jack,” he says after a beat, voice gruff. “That doesn't mean I trust you with Sean.” 

The words sting more than you expect them to. Your hand tightens around the knife before you set it down with deliberate care. “Noted,” you say, wiping your hands on a towel. “Next time your brother stops by, I’ll make sure to usher him out with a smile and a cookie. Or better yet—maybe you should actually talk to him yourself instead of having me turn your family members away.” 

Aaron looks away first. 

The sound of Jack's laughter drifts in from the living room—light, effortless, untouched by the adult tension simmering just a room away. You both glance toward the hallway like you’ve been summoned, reminded of the reason you're even standing here, arguing like this. “I'm not trying to come between anything,” you add softly, more to fill the space than anything else. “I just... I care about your kid. That includes the people in his life.” 

Aaron exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. The defenses lower just enough for you to see the man underneath—the tired father, the conflicted brother, the maybe-something-more you haven’t dared to name yet. “I know you do,” he says, finally, but you can see his disapproving expression.  

You pause mid-slice, again, the knife hovering above the cutting board. “He was standing outside your front door with coffee and a damn toy dinosaur, Aaron. What did you want me to do—slam it in his face?” 

“Yes,” he snaps, and it’s the sharpest thing he’s said all night. “If it means protecting Jack from people who only show up when it’s convenient for them? Yeah. I’d rather you close the door.” 

Your hand tightens around the knife before you set it down with more force than necessary. “What is wrong with you?” You ask, eyebrows pulled together in a full-on frown. “He is your brother, and you can’t let him in? What kind of a person turns their own brother away?” 

Aaron’s expression hardens, jaw tightening like he’s grinding down whatever ugly truth is pressing on his tongue. “The kind of person who’s been burned by him more times than he can count,” he says. “The kind of person who doesn’t want his son waiting by the window for someone who doesn’t come back.” 

The words are flat. Final. And they leave no room for argument—but still, you don’t back down. “You really think Jack can’t handle disappointment?” you ask, voice rising now. “He’s a kid, Aaron. He’s going to face a hell of a lot worse in life than a flaky uncle, in fact, he has! What he needs is to see that people can try. That sometimes they come back.” 

“You think I don’t want that?” he shoots back. “You think I don’t wish Sean could be someone Jack can rely on? But he’s not. He never has been. And I won’t risk letting him in just so Jack can watch him walk away again.” 

You cross your arms, the frustration bubbling over. “So what, you just cut him out completely? Pretend he doesn’t exist? That’s not protecting Jack, that’s isolating him.” 

The silence hangs there, dangerous, and just when you think it might settle into something quieter, Aaron speaks again. His jaw clenches before he says, “It’s called setting boundaries,” he bites. “Something you might try sometime, instead of inserting yourself into situations you don’t fully understand.” 

You flinch. Not visibly, but enough that you feel it in your chest—a hitch in your breath, a spike of heat behind your eyes. You open your mouth, then close it again. Because what are you supposed to say to that? He might as well have slapped you. “I wasn’t inserting myself,” you say finally, voice low. “I was trying to help. God forbid someone else in this house give a damn.” 

Aaron exhales harshly, pushing a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about giving a damn. It’s about knowing when to stop hoping someone’s changed just because they showed up with a toy and a smile. You are not Jack’s mother, you don’t get to decide who enters his life for him.” 

You shake your head as the words bitter in your mouth. “You know what, Aaron? You’re not the only one who’s been disappointed by people. You think you cornered the market on pain? On family that lets you down?” He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. The look on his face—tight, unreadable, frustratingly blank—says it all. You wait for something. A flicker of regret. A softening. Anything. It doesn’t come. You blink, once, then again, willing the burn behind your eyes to go away. You won't cry. Not in front of him. Not over this. You turn sharply, wiping your hands on the towel, more of a habit, one last time before tossing it onto the counter. “I’m going to my room, don’t forget to take the lasagna out.” 

Aaron doesn’t stop you. Just watches as you walk away, footsteps brisk and quiet down the hall. The moment your door clicks shut behind you, the tension in your chest snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. You lean against the door for a second, eyes closed, breathing in the silence. It’s thicker in here, somehow. Quieter. Still. 

Family is complicated. That much, at least, you and Aaron agree on. 

The immense need to cry you were feeling moments ago seem to have left its place to anger—it’s an emotion you try bury, but tonight, it claws its way up too quickly, too loudly. You pace the length of your bedroom, fingers curling into fists at your sides, jaw tight. 

Because how dare he. 

You’d stood by him through everything—through the sleepless nights after a case, through Jack’s nightmares, through the moments when he’d forget to eat and you'd wordlessly hand him a plate like it was nothing. You’d been there. Present. Steady. And now suddenly, you were the problem? Just for giving a damn about his family? 

You drop onto the edge of the bed, scrubbing your hands over your face. You don’t cry, but the sting lingers behind your eyes anyway. The thing is—you do understand. Maybe not the full scope of Aaron and Sean’s history, but you know what it means to be disappointed by someone who shares your blood. To want better. To expect worse. To still hold out hope anyway. 

And maybe that’s the difference between you and him. You haven’t yet figured out how to let go of people, even when you should.  

A soft knock interrupts your spiral, softer than you'd assume Aaron would prefer. 

You don’t answer. There’s a pause. 

Then, another knock, and a faint, “Y/N.” You jump up to your feet when you realize it’s Jack at the door.  

“Come in,” you say, your voice softer, hastily wiping at your eyes just in case. 

The door creaks open, and Jack steps in, his tiny arms wrapped awkwardly around a tray that's a little too big for him. There's a plate of lasagna, a fork tucked neatly beside it, and a juice box balancing precariously at the corner. 

“I brought you dinner,” he says, proud and solemn, like he's delivering peace offerings in a war he doesn’t fully understand. 

Your heart clenches. “Hey, bud,” you murmur, crouching down to help him with the tray and setting it aside onto the nearby nightstand. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know,” he says, shrugging a little. “But you didn’t eat. And you always make sure we eat, so I thought… maybe you needed someone to do it for you this time.” 

You don’t trust yourself to speak right away. Instead, you pull him into a hug, holding him tightly against you. His small frame relaxes in your arms without hesitation, and it makes your chest ache. “Oh, Jack,” you whisper, swallowing down the need to cry, “thank you. It means a lot.” 

When you let go, he settles on the bed beside you, legs swinging off the edge. You take a bite of the lasagna, if only to make him smile, and he watches you carefully like he’s checking to make sure you actually eat it. “Uncle Sean and Dad are talking downstairs,” Jack says after a minute, casual, but also not—he sounds like he is testing the waters as he adds, “like… actually talking. Not yelling.” 

You blink. “Really?” 

He nods. “I think it’s your fault.” 

“Jack,” You sigh as you throw him a sideways glance. “That sounds bad.” 

“It’s not,” he says confidently. “It’s like… the kind of trouble people get into when they care too much. You and Dad are good at that.” 

You snort lightly, setting the plate aside. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?” 

Jack shrugs again, then yawns, his head tipping slightly toward your shoulder. You glance at the clock—past his bedtime by now—but you don’t have the heart to send him away. Not when things are so raw. Not when you could both use the company. He shifts a little, curling up closer to your side, and you instinctively reach for the blanket at the foot of the bed, pulling it over both of you.  

“Just for a bit,” you whisper, brushing his hair gently off his forehead. Jack mumbles something into your side that you can’t quite catch. Then he’s still, breathing soft and even. You don’t mean to fall asleep—but exhaustion always has a way of sneaking in when the adrenaline eventually fades with Jack by your side. Downstairs, you can hear the low murmur of voices. You don’t try to make out the words. For once, it’s enough to just know they’re talking. That some part of what you said might have broken through the ice Aaron insists on wearing like armor. 

Maybe tomorrow you’ll talk again. Maybe you’ll yell again. Maybe you won’t. You decide you don’t want to think about it right now—no, you want to fall asleep and just forget that this day ever happened.  

The hallway is dim when Aaron finally climbs the stairs after Sean leaves for the night—with a promise to drop by tomorrow before his train, Aaron doesn’t know what to feel about that. The house is quiet—too quiet—but the kind that makes him hope, not panic. The kind that tells him the storm passed, at least for now. He hesitates outside your door for a moment. Then, carefully, he pushes it open. 

The sight makes him freeze in the doorway. 

You’re fast asleep on the bed, turned slightly on your side. Jack is tucked into the crook of your arm, his head resting against your shoulder, one hand tangled loosely in your sleeve. The blanket’s half-slipped down to your waists, and the tray of now-cold food sits forgotten on the nightstand. 

For the first time that evening, something in Aaron’s chest eases. 

He steps inside quietly, his movements slow and deliberate. He knows he should wake Jack and take him to his own bed. He knows that. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he takes the empty tray downstairs and finishes the rest of the dishes. He tells himself that although there is a likely chance that you won’t be forgiving him for all the things he said tonight any time soon, at least you won’t need to deal with dishes tomorrow morning. It’s a peace offering, he decides, though he also decides that there is something therapeutic about doing dishes, so maybe he should consider adding it to his nightly routine. When he eventually makes his way back to your room, the hallway light casts a soft glow behind him, his shadow long and quiet across the floor. He pushes the door open just enough to slip inside again, his gaze immediately drawn to the bed. Nothing's changed. You're still there, curled protectively around Jack, both of you breathing slow and steady. 

He stands there for a moment, unsure of what he’s doing, only that he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. The room feels warmer now. Not in temperature, but in something else—something softer. Something that makes his shoulders finally drop from where they’ve been tensed all evening. Carefully, like the movement itself might shatter the fragile peace, he toes off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket. He folds it over the armchair in the corner, glancing once more at the bed before crossing to the other side and easing himself down onto the mattress. 

The space beside Jack is narrow, not quite wide enough for comfort, but he makes it work. He lies on his side, facing the ceiling, his hand resting just inches away from yours. Jack shifts slightly in his sleep, his fingers still tangled in your sleeve, and Aaron watches the way your arm adjusts instinctively, holding the boy a little closer. 

What he doesn’t expect is his eyes to meet yours when they move above. He can see the way you are looking at him sleepily, having just woken up by your slumber. For a moment, neither of you moves. Your eyes are wide, blinking in the dim light of the room, still adjusting. But as they settle on him, there’s something in the way you look at him that makes Aaron’s breath hitch—like you’re not sure what to make of the fact that he’s here, lying beside you, in the quiet space that’s become a little more complicated than it was before. 

He watches the slight curve of your lips, how they seem to want to form a question, but nothing comes out. The silence is heavy, thick with the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid between you two. “Hi,” His voice is low, hushed, as if saying it any louder would disturb the delicate moment. 

You blink a couple of times, your fingers still lightly grazing the edge of the blanket where your arm is draped. “Hi,” you murmur back, your voice hoarse from sleep. Aaron studies you for a beat longer, like he’s trying to memorize the way you look right now, sleepy and soft around the edges, with Jack tucked into your side like he belongs there. 

Maybe he does. Maybe you both do. 

Your eyes flicker down to Jack for a second, then back to Aaron, and you see something flicker across his face—something quieter than regret, gentler than apology. A kind of yearning that doesn’t need words to be understood. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, barely above a whisper. 

“You didn’t,” you reply, voice just as soft. “I think I was waiting for you.” That catches him off guard, just slightly, and you catch it. His brows twitch like he’s trying to hide how much that affects him, but he doesn’t look away. He never was good at hiding things from you—not the real things. “Are we going to continue to fight?” 

Aaron doesn’t answer right away, and you don’t push him for an answer either. When he does, it’s almost a whisper. “You’d make a good mother.” 

The words hit you like a punch you weren’t ready for. You blink fast, biting the inside of your cheek. “You don’t get to say things like that,” you murmur. “Not after tonight.” 

“I’m sorry,” his whisper breaks the silence, and you can see he means it—truly, deeply. There’s no defense in his voice, no sharp edges or clipped tone, just regret laced with sincerity. His eyes don’t leave yours, and the quiet honesty and regret in them makes it harder to breathe. 

“I shouldn’t have said the things I did,” he continues, softer now, like even speaking it aloud risks unraveling what little remains between you. “I was angry. Scared, definitely. And that’s no excuse, but…” He trails off, swallowing thickly, the words catching somewhere in his throat. “You didn’t deserve that.” 

You look at him for a long moment, your heart aching with the weight of everything you’ve both carried—what was said, what wasn’t, what hurt more because it came from him. “I’d never want to replace Haley—I've never tried, and I would never.” You glance down at Jack again, his tiny hand still curled into your sleeve, safe and unaware. The sight grounds you. Reminds you that some things, some people, are worth staying soft for, even when it hurts. “You hurt me,” you admit, voice thin with emotion. 

Aaron nods, his jaw clenching like he’s holding back everything else he wants to say. “I know.” 

“And I don’t know if it’s fixable,” you add. “Not all of it. Not overnight.” 

“I’m not asking for overnight,” he says. “Just… the chance to try.” 

There’s something fragile in the way he says it—hope, maybe, or fear—but it’s real. And for once, he’s not trying to control the outcome. He’s just giving you the truth, and waiting to see what you do with it. You let out a slow breath. “Okay.” 

His brow lifts, just a little. “Okay?” 

You nod, brushing your fingers lightly against his under the blanket and hooking your pinky finger against his. “Start here.” 

“Sean and I talked,” he sighs, “I think... I think it went okay.”  

You take a moment to go over his words. You know he’s waiting for you to ask him about it, you can see it in his eyes. You meet his gaze, quiet and steady. There’s a soft beat of silence before you speak again, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Okay,” you say, slow and cautious, “I’m tired. Tell me about it tomorrow?” 

Aaron hesitates, as if weighing your request, before giving a soft nod. “Tomorrow,” he agrees, his voice calm but still thick with emotion. He shifts slightly, trying not to disturb Jack, though the movement feels too large in the quiet room. Aaron shifts again, more carefully this time, and you feel his warmth next to you as he pulls the blanket up just a little higher, wrapping it snugly around all three of you. 

Family is complicated. That much, at least, you and Aaron agree on. 

But his feelings for you don’t need to be—in fact, they shouldn’t be. And he finally realizes that.  

[thepossummoldypasta]

Hidden In The Woods

In the woods around Hawkins there is a van, and in that van lives an Eddie. Not a nasty beat-up van in constant need of repair, nor is it a creepy van that looks like it belongs to a serial killer; It’s Eddie's van and that means comfort. It has a perfectly undented body painted green and a mattress in the back. Or well, he doesn't actually live in the van. It's a nice van sure but Eddie lives in a doublewide trailer with his uncle, not his van–no matter how often they joke about it. 

(and there is a small chance he’s lying when he says it doesn't constantly break down)

He’s heading to his van now actually. 

Eddie longs for the ability to teleport at times like this; he’s trudging through the woods after a particularly fucked drug deal, and all he wants is to be in the back of his beloved shitbox, wrapped in blankets and smoking a joint. 

But Eddie can't magically teleport to the van and he also can’t ban Tommy Hagan from buying his weed–who was a major ass today by the way–because he gets most of his income from the jerk. 

He also can’t park closer to where he deals, which sucks. Eddie knows Hopper looks for his van parked on the side roads, so woods it is. Boo.

It's not that much farther….

And it's a nice day...

Plus the trees are pretty…

Eddie loves fall: the trees light up so magically in the sunbeams like a leafy fire, he sees more gray squirrels dancing about the forest floor this time of year, and Halloween is just awesome. 

This Halloween especially. He led a bitchin’ Halloween one-shot with his new DnD club this year and nothing could sour his mood for almost a week afterward. Even though there was some weird pumpkin blight that year that meant no jack-o-lanterns and the controlled burns in the woods behind Forrest Hills kept him up at night all that month. 

Plus he had a really good fall break so far. 

Okay, maybe things aren't sooooo bad. Trust a walk in nature to clear his head. Now that he’s calmed down Eddie can appreciate how nice everything is. 

Wait.

Eddie definitely didn't leave the back of the van open when he left.

Maybe things are shit and Eddie is an idiot. 

Fuck 

He’s lanky and gangly and has no weapon to defend himself with, but Eddie still creeps closer to the doors. 

Hagan couldn't have gotten here before Eddie, so he’s probably not going to get jumped for selling him overpriced weed. Maybe a really smart, really lucky,  raccoon just so happened to get the door open? More likely Eddie opened the damn thing himself, completely forgot about it, and is now making mountains out of molehills…

He props a hand on the closed door and peeks around it into the dim back. And promptly reels back in shock falling flat on his ass. 

It's a total Occam's Razor moment. The easiest and most simple solution is that the universe hates Eddie Munson. Because that's definitely Steve Harrington in the back of his van. He’s snuggled deep into Eddie’s blankets and smelling distinctly more omega than the last time he saw the guy. But it's Steve alright. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck 

What the fuck is Steve Harrington doing in the back of Eddie’s van? He’s never even had a conversation with the guy!

What do you do in this situation! 

Steve’s obviously nested back there, and if He was completely scentless before the fall break he’s gotta be fresh off his presentation heat, so like hell is Eddie going to go barging in–that's a surefire way to get his face ripped off–but Eddie also needs to get in that van eventually! 

He Raises back up on shaky legs, poking his head fully into the back; and takes another good, hard, look. 

There is still a person in the back of his van. A whole-ass person who wasn't in his van when he left. A person who is without a doubt, Steve. 

A rustle of movement, a quick shifting of blankets, pulls Eddie back to reality. There’s a cute little chirr from the nest followed swiftly by chestnut waves of hair shimming out into the open. Eddie isn't even given time to react before doe-eyes bleary with sleep blink down at him. 

“Eddie!” 

And oh isn't that the sweetest little chirp. Eddie watches in astonishment as the omega wiggles to prop himself up against the back of the driver's seat, chirping adorably all the while.  Eddie can't decide if he’s more mystified by The Prettiest Boy in Hawkins™ cuddled up back there, or That he knows Eddie’s name. 

Now that the omega isn't completely cocooned, Eddie can smell that faintest hint of mint that Steve is throwing into the air paired with heady lavender and it draws him in. Before he even realizes he’s followed his nose and clambered into the back of the van… his van. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Eddie starts slowly. Are you comfy?” It's an innocent enough question. Hopefully, if he plays it casually, Steve won't decide Eddie’s a threat and rend him to dust for being in the poor Omega’s space.  

Steve didn't seem to understand at first cooing a cute, drawn-out  “Hi, Eddie” but eventually he blinked owlishly and replied with a smile “So cozy”. 

“That’s nice sweetheart, but how bout we get you to your nest, hmm?” the alpha tries to suggest. Oh but now Steve looks a bit confused; drawing his brows together and pouting. 

“Nest? ‘M in my nest?” Steve says (well actually he whines it, but Eddie is trying to ignore that lest his heart break). Crap what does he do now?

“I–I know you’re nesting right now, uh–but wouldn’t you be–wouldn't you feel better at home?” Eddie reasons. 

“But there’s no nest there!” Steve whines again “They wont let me have a nest! I wanna stay here” 

“Okay, Okay” Eddie soothes in a hushed voice,” you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to sweetheart” Eddie is in so much trouble. Now that he knows Steve won't be pissed at him for being so close, Eddie’s having a hell of a time not being closer.  

Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing.  

Eddie coos from a distance until the whines and whimpers peter out and are replaced by soft sleepy snuffles. 

“How did you even get here, big boy?” Eddie questions. The thought has been plaguing him, what happened while he was away?

“I was taking a walk” Steve starts, he lays his head down and his eyes flutter closed before he continues. “I needed to get away and I went into the woods. I got turned around but you saved me.”

“I saved you?” How the hell did he do that? 

“Mmm hmmm, I smelled ya” Steve hums” smelled so good so I followed.” ok, even more confused now. Eddie has an…unconventional scent–basil and tobacco leaf–he can't imagine someone trekking through the woods to find something that smells like pasta sauce and cigarettes. And how long was Steve lost in the woods, how long was he wandering, cold and alone, with only a scent trail for comfort. 

“Hey, Eddie?” 

“Uh yes?” Eddie focuses back on reality, ready to face whatever he’s about to be asked.

“If I’m sleeping beauty, why didn't you wake me with a kiss?” nope not ready for that. 

“Would you? Uh Do–did you want me to?” Steve nods against the soft blanket pillowed underneath him.  

Oh. 

Eddie feels his resolve crack and threatens to shatter. He can't take advantage of Steve when he’s so vulnerable. Is he vulnerable? Steve isn't still in heat, his mind is sound. But he is upset.  Best to leave it be for now. 

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” 

Dang it.

Steve shoots up–ramrod-like–to nod ecstatically. Eddie's resolve shatters.  Absolutely not helped by Steve’s little please, please, pleases. 

“Okay” 

It's not like there's anyone around to judge him.

It’s like the movies, the way they lean in close and steal each other's breath. Steve tastes like honeyed sunshine. It sweetens the omega’s lavender-mint tea smell in a way that Eddie knows he’ll crave till the day he gets buried six feet under.  Eddie can't tell where he ends and his darling omega begins, drawn so close together that their purrs rattle in both chests. 

Only the lack of oxygen drives them apart, though Eddie tries to fight it. 

“I’ll do better next time princess” the alpha rumbles with care. 

They seal the deal with another perfect kiss. 

Hell yeah.

================================================

based on this post Special thanks to @starshideurfics for inspiring me to have Eddie call Steve sleeping beauty like a SIMP

[bullet-prooflove]

Ink Stained: Spencer Dutton x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

Spencer doesn’t come home from the war. Instead he detours to Africa to hunt in the Serengeti for five years because he’s too ruined, too broken to face the people waiting for him. The only way he feels alive is when he’s facing down death itself, in fact it’s the only way he feels anything anymore.

The night his throat is almost torn out by a leopard is the night that everything changes. He feels it’s putrid breath hot on his face, it’s claws sinking into his skin, tearing through his flesh and instead of welcoming the oblivion as he always imagined he would he fights. He fights because in his final moments his thoughts are of you, of the girl he fell in love with back in Montana.

The one he taught to shoot on Sunday afternoons, who raced with him on her horse across the pastures until they were both wild and breathless, tumbling into the grass, making love underneath the sun. The one he made a promise to by wrapping a daisy around her ring finger, one she’d still been wearing the day he left.

It’s a week later he begins to read the letters. You’d stopped sending them years ago but he still kept every single one of them, along with his Aunt Cara’s. He’s never written back, he hadn’t wanted to fill your head with the horrors he was experiencing overseas.

It takes him half the night to work through with them. He reads about your life in his absence, how you still bathe in the stream where he undressed you for the first time, how your Papi passed away so the ranch now belongs to your brother, he lives your highs, your lows and then eventually your resolution.

You let me go a long time ago, you say in your final letter, maybe it’s time for me to do the same.

His tears, they stain the ink because you’re probably married by now to one of the other men that tried to court you, a couple of babes running around your ankles.

He begins to work through Cara’s letters then, a glass of whiskey in his hand for fortification. He catches glimpses of you through the pages, your life is still inevitably entwined within The Yellowstone. His Aunt Cara thought the world of you before he left and evidently she still does.

It’s the final one that makes him pack up his things, the one that details the shooting on the way back from Bozeman.

Your Kit, it reads, she shot finer than most the men out there that day and she paid the price for it with a bullet. The doctor says it’s in God’s hands now.

His brother, his uncle, Jack and now you…

He isn’t sure his heart can endure the loss.

He books passage to the Americas the next day, sending word over the wire of his homecoming.

I’m on my way, he writes on the paperwork before handing it over to the ship’s captain. I’ll be home as soon as I can.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello miss Raven! This is just a "for fun" question. We've all seen the idol outfits for the 5th anni, yea? Imagine if they were actually idols in their own groups and everything! What would you call each group?

*SLAMS HANDS ON DESK*

I’m so glad you asked so I have an excuse to sprinkle in details from my idol AU—

HEART5

The /s/ in HEART5 is replaced by the number 5 to represent the 5 members. The HEART can be interpreted as coming from Heartslabyul, or it can be read as the 5 united hearts of Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce.

They can form card suits with their hands as part of their collective branding, haha. Or maybe they all have different ways of forming hearts with their hands? Fans can mimic the hand signals of whoever they stan.

Riddle’s probably very strict with his members and inspects their outfits + fixes them before they march onto the stage. (Trumpet accompaniment!!) In my idol AU, I like to think that he, Trey, and Chenya had their own little indie group (WoИd3rs) before Mrs. Rosehearts found out and made them disband 😭 (because she wants her son taking a more traditional route in the idol industry, ie signing with a major label). Everyone else followed to support him.

K\\\ngdom

K\\\ngdom is a play on the word "kingdom" because... well, assuming YOU-KNOW-WHO is the leader, he wants to assert that he's the one in charge. The three slashes in place of the /i/ are meant to resemble the claw marks typically associated with Savanaclaw. (Diasomnia’s group uses the slash mark too, which Leona is bitter about.)

bcjswbjwnzlss Just imagine them at a concert… “We are K\\\ngdom, hear us ROAR!!!” Rebellious vibe, drums to emulate stomping or a stampede? Maybe they even call their fans herbivores (even though that’s more of a Leona thing than a Ruggie and Jack thing), lmao 😂 Ruggie might call’m kittens? Jack thinks it’s embarrassing… Not Leona entering the entertainment industry to give the royal family the finger though/j 💀 Ruggie’s shameless; anything for the money.

I see Cheka being super excited to hear that ojitan is an idol. He bothers Kifaji to take him to concerts and then sneaks off backstage to surprise his uncle. Poor Kifaji has a heart attack seeing his second prince with his chest out all the time. (Leona casually tells him he’s just “making use” of his best assets + “this is how the industry works”.)

s!ren*z

s!ren*z is a fanciful version of "sirens", as in, the mythological figures (sometimes depicted as bird people, but in this case, it refers to the fish people variant) who sing to lure and drown sailors. The ! is supposed to look like a pen and nib, and the *z is meant to look like the flourish at the end of a signature.

I like to imagine that the twins used to be a jazzy duo (2weels) and Azul was their manager. They eventually bullied him so much that Azul joined as their third member to show how “easily” he can outdo them! Jade and Floyd thought this was really funny, so they formally rebranded and have been s!ren*z ever since.

dbjsvskskw. THEY CAN CALL FANS ANEMONES (lol reference to book 3)!! Azul likes to keep track of their stats and merch sales after every major event, I think he gets an adrenaline high from seeing those big numbers. His ego swells significantly from all the attention and approval he gets from the public. Unfortunately, Azul and Jade constantly have to cover for Floyd going off-script mid-show.

OASI2

OASI2 has its roots in the word "oasis"; Kalim wanted the group name to sound refreshing and fun, like hitting a source of water in the middle of the desert! It's also a callback to his UM. The 2 refers to the number of members. When paired with the /s/, it kind of forms a heart (though Jamil insists the /s/ is meant to be a snake, not the other half of a heart). The /s/ being the snake in the center is also symbolic of how it's really Jamil keeping the performances together.

I picture Kalim’s entire family coming out with light sticks to support him. Najma is more tsundere with her support. She’ll wrinkle her nose and insist it’s weird to hear people thirsting for her brother (but secretly she’s happy for his success).

I think they’d have very extravagant performances www Smoke, fireworks, bombastic music, fancy dancing, even the magic carpet can cameo. Kalim can toss gold and jewels into the crowd! Jamil struggles to keep him from going overboard. Both of them are great at dancing; Jamil’s the rapper.

{fair}est

The {} on either side of the word "fair" is meant to resemble the intricate frame of a mirror; "fair" within that frame is a reference to how the Beautiful Queen asked her mirror who was fairest of them all. The -est outside of the {} mirror is symbolic of their drive to be the best. The entire group name being in lowercase is deceptive; they may seem demure, but don't underestimate the power of their beauty!

A group with very strong visuals. It helps that they have THE Vil Schoenheit as its leader and center. Does modeling work on the side. Their collective sura is so strong, they sometimes seem untouchable. In strong rivalry with Neige and the Seven Dwarves’ group, EtSno yes, I stole his in-universe fan club’s name and just smushed it together/j, whose tagline is “Someday, my princess will come.”

It would be neat if they incorporated other languages into their songs, since Rook has his French and Epel has his hometown’s dialect. They could truly go global!

Ch∀r0N

Ch∀r0N is a reference to Charon, the figure in Greek mythology that ferries the souls of the dead to the Underworld, Hades' domain. The inverted A is an emoticon's mouth, which the /o/ is a 0 (zero) and N is ironic. Together, 0N looks like "on", but in binary, 0 means "off" or "false". Incorporates tech and coding into the name, basically!

Very unique-sounding. They can incorporate electronic bleeps and boops + synthesized voices. Their shows are amazing displays of light and sound, carefully manipulated by tech. Jcvsjwjowwk Idia being too socially anxious to actually show up in-person to perform 💀 so he just projects a 3D model of himself up there with Ortho…

Parents are their biggest fans. Mrs. Shroud shows up and screeches “OR-KUN!! IDY-KUN!!! IT’S MAMA!!”

D + KN/GHTS

The D in D + KN/GHTS stands for Draconia, so the name is the one dragon plus his three knights. (Ironically, this works on a meta level because Malleus is often a "standout" or lone figure.) The slash in KN/GHTS is to invoke the image of a sword cutting down those who threaten their leader and liege. Their fans can probably be called Draconians, the same as what the hardcore Malleus fans in canon are called.

In an idol AU… Malleus definitely has to rank #1. (Leona is always hounding him and trying to knock him down from that spot 💦) People are just drawn to his mysterious aura, but he’s always surrounded and guarded by his group members. Perhaps Malleus went into music because that’s how his mother showed his love to him—through her lullaby. He wants to share the magic of music with the world. So haunting and somber, he captivates with his voice alone.

Sebek is still Malleus’s biggest fan. Buys all the merch. Hypes his liege up by encouraging their crowd to scream as loud as they can. If Silver falls asleep mid-performance, they still gotta keep it going without him. Lilia puts the boys through hellish practice routines.

[zivazivc]

Not exactly a character sheet but something akin to it... an all around sound reveal/analysis for my punk funk guy

yapping on top of yapping under the cut:

Les's musical style is a wide range that typically leans heavily into funk metal or punk rock, or both!, although he is quick to get inspired by other genres too. In general he likes music that sounds at least a little droll and unexpected. I hope the selection of albums I compiled can paint you a good idea of it (because I sure as hell don't know what I'm doing!).

He is, first and foremost, a bass player and he's very good at it. Heavy funky slapping and popping is prominent in his music as is usual in funk music in general. He's got an old (ugly) second-hand bass guitar, that he cherishes like it's his baby. He could probably save an get a cooler-looking one for the stage but that in itself is uncool in his book.

He's also not so bad with the trumpet too, doesn't own one though, so he only plays it when he gets a chance. He learned to play it from his uncle Adewale.

Singing on the other hand is not his forte; he doesn't have super impressive vocals plus he's holding himself back. His singing style sounds droll and kind of jaded (often even deadpan and monotone although thought out and not lazy in any way), and closer to speak-singing. Big reason for that is that genuine honest singing makes him feel vulnerable in an uncomfortable way he's not willing to face, and it hints at a possibility for emotional release he very much prefers to not see happen. Y'know, singing is therapeutic and he doesn't want the therapy. 🥲

He typically balances out his singing with sarcastic/dramatic lyrics or unusual storytelling that keep his true thoughts and feelings well encrypted under layers of metaphors and allegories (subconsciously or intentionally) — which funnily enough makes him a very clever lyricist. But he doesn't put any of it down and has no interest in joining Hed and Floyd with writing songs for the band.

His singing VA is John McCrea from Cake, and when I say this I mean from the sound of his singing voice, all the way down to how he delivers his lines and the lyrics themselves. ':) More examples: 1, 2, 3. (I put only two of their albums on the drawing but honestly Cake has so many good Les songs.)

NoMeansNo is a close second when it comes to lyrics, but they're more like vent songs for Les, when you catch him in a weird angry/depressed mood. I also really like that band's prominent use of the bass, it's not very funky but it scratches my Les itch very much.

Butthole Surfers' songs have good Les lyrics too, although those are more "him singing about weird hallucinations while high out of his mind" or when he wants to be shocking for the sake of being shocking. That band is just weird overall, I like the singers southern drawl though. I'm still on board the idea of Les and Hed having a bit of a southern US accent.

Incubus is an amazing band overall but their first two albums are such a good flavor of funk metal and early band experimentality. Their singer is really good in regards to the word intonation I imagine Les having, he's too skilled for Les to keep up with in some parts though. 😅

I think the perfect Les sound would be some kind of chimera of these four bands... or maybe not, maybe that would sound terrible. XD

But still, to get a feel for Les's sound overall you have to give all of the examples below a listen, or at least the ones I put in bold.

- The albums featured in the drawing ↴

Incubus - S.C.I.E.N.C.E.

NoMeansNo - 0 + 2 = 1

Cake - Comfort Eagle

Incubus - Fungus Amongus

Beck - Odelay

The Damage Manual - The Damage Manual

Primus - Sailing the Seas of Cheese

Cake - Motorcade of Generosity

Fungo Mungo - Humungous

NoMeansNo - Wrong

Butthole Surfers - Electriclarryland

L.A.P.D. - L.A.P.D.

Bonus "Lena" album:

13. Jack Off Jill - Clear Hearts Grey Flowers

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest. 

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around." 

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun. 

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers. 

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness. 

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No." 

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–" 

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard." 

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events." 

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members. 

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze. 

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll. 

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that. 

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…" 

"That's never good." 

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative." 

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here." 

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!" 

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die." 

"You won't die." 

"How do you know?" you ask. 

"You're under my watch, aren't you?" 

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well." 

"You brought it on yourself." 

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet. 

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?" 

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home." 

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?" 

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips. 

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you." 

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back. 

"And do what?" 

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become. 

Why there? 

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile. 

Forget I asked. 

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?" 

"I could help with the task force." 

"That's what you want to do?" 

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down. 

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it." 

"I could help you?" you offer. 

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes. 

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours. 

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath. 

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance. 

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says. 

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel." 

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please." 

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[redflagshipwriter]

Mama Bat 9: Dinner Out

masterpost

After her promise, the bats were a whirlwind of activity. He didn’t know where Uncle D or Alfred went, but Cass and Bruce gently bustled him across the house to plan his ecto dinner like it was an attack on an enemy base.

“I think it was around here,” Danny said uncertainly over the map in Bruce’s study. “I don’t know the names of any of these places. But there was this abandoned-looking theme park that had a lot of what I need.”

He didn’t have to be the world’s smartest ghost to recognize that there was a lot of tension in the air after he said that. That tracked. There were not many pleasant ways for a place in the human realm to accumulate a glut of deathly energy.

“That makes sense,” Bruce said. “Cass, honey, do you think we should ask Dick and Jason?” He folded the map back up along the same lines as before without even looking. Danny wondered at why he had that muscle memory. Did he fold everything in the same pattern?

“Big visible muscle,” Cass agreed. Her phone appeared out of nearly nowhere. “Danny.” 

He stood up even straighter. 

“Is Amity dangerous?” She pinned him in a look, her soft brown eyes arresting. “Dangerous to Jasmine Fenton?”

“Jazz,” he corrected automatically. Cass nodded. He rolled his ankles around, stimming below their line of sight. “Uh.” Danny faltered. “Um.” He bit his lower lip and tried to feel less like there was a painful hand around his heart. 

He hadn’t thought so. But he would never have thought that he and Vlad were in serious danger, either. Now that the GIW and Mom and Dad knew… They would know who to ask for more information.

His parents would never push his friends or Jazz too hard. But the idea of the GIW trying to intimidate his friends and family was almost too upsetting to consider.

“Batdad extracts them?” Cass cocked her head at him to make it even more of a question. It was up to him. Was it a good idea?

Danny licked his lips. His mouth was so dry. He struggled for words. “Maybe.” One shaky inhalation. “If, um.” It sounded like someone else’s voice. It couldn’t be him saying that right now. “If it wouldn’t be too obtrusive… I don’t want to extract them and then, like, they can’t go back if they wanna.”

“We can handle that.” Bruce made eye contact to promise. He looked, Danny thought, like a more responsible, boring version of Jack Fenton. His eyes burned. 

“That would be, uh. Cool.” Danny managed to get that out and avert his eyes, but he felt like everyone could see that he was about to cry.

Whatever. He leaned to the left before he consciously knew that Cass was lifting an arm to put over his shoulder. It slotted in place like they’d done it a billion times. Danny tilted his head towards the nails she gently scratched through his hair.

“Batdad, Damibat, Timbird, Stephanie,” Cass listed easily. “Amity.” She jostled Danny a little. “And we get dinner. You only need me. I’m the best. But we bring boys too, Dickbird and Jason.” She blew a raspberry.  

Bruce looked exhausted and fond. “She is the best,” he agreed. Danny watched their interplay like it was a pingpong match. “I think you ought to go tonight to get something to eat. Would you recommend that we contact Jazz and your friends in the daytime, or should we leave as soon as possible?”

…They all had school in the day. Even Jazz was still in high school. Danny eyed Bruce doubtfully. He did know about school, right? “Night is probably better.” 

“I’ll make a few calls.” Bruce sat back and seemed to flip a switch into planning mode.

“Text!” Cass said, disagreeing strongly. She rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t too mean. “Grandfather Bat.”

“Oh!” Danny startled. “Um, I should contact Sam and Tucker. So that they know to expect you.” 

Bruce balked. “We don't normally contact civilians about ongoing investigations…” He looked constipated about it.

Danny crossed his arms. He wanted to think it was stubbornness more than self comfort. “You're not going to like, creep up on my friends. If they want to go, they need some time to get ready.” 

“Preparing could give away the plan to observers.” 

“Is Amity Park Batman's domicile?” Cass asked archly. “Batdad.” She put both her hands on his desk and leaned forward to give her father an unimpressed look. “Mayor of Amity Park?”

Bruce snorted and then covered his mouth guiltily. “Point taken.” He cleared his throat, trying to retain some dignity. “Danny, do you need help to contact your friends?” 

He shrugged. “Just a computer.” Danny fiddled with the strings on his hoodie. Tucker's hoodie. “I know you gave me a phone, but we thought -”

“That communications might be intercepted,” Bruce said, nodding as if that kind of paranoia was commonplace. “It's the first thing I would do if I expected a person of interest to contact a friend. What's your workaround?”

Danny bit his lip. It sounded stupid when he said it aloud. 

Ten minutes later, Damian joined Cass in her perch on the back of the sofa and watched with morbid curiosity as Danny joined Doomed chatroom after chatroom, scanning for Sam's username. “She’ll leave it running whenever she's home in case I ping her,” Danny defended weakly. He left another chatroom. 

Damian hummed, two pitches that came off incredibly doubtful. He had a gift for that.

“No, really, this- yes!” Danny pumped a fist and sent a HEY ITS YA BOI message. 

It took seconds for Sam to get to it and add his temporary account as a friend. She sent a DM before he could and then ignored his response to start a voice chat. 

Once he'd confirmed to her satisfaction that he was himself and that he hadn't gotten any deader in Gotham, he passed on the information that the friggin Batman was going to stop by Amity and wanted to check in. “But don’t worry, he’s kinda cool,” Danny added. “I gotta go. I am starving.”

Sam said all the rude words that she knew in quick succession. Damian looked sort of impressed. “Fine,” she said, obviously annoyed about it. “I’ll meet with Batman, but only because I hate the GIW more.”

“You hate Batman?” Damian asked. It was hard to tell from his tone if he had any feelings about that.

“That’s Damian,” Danny introduced. “He’s cool.”

“Hey,” Sam said shortly. “Yeah, he’s basically a cop. You have a problem with that?” Her voice went a little too aggressive.

“Just so you know, Damian is a child,” Danny said warily. 

Sam scoffed. “You said he’s cool. I respect him enough to fight him if he’s wrong.”

“Batman may be improved by your feedback,” Damian said idly, as if he wasn’t making trouble for his father on purpose. “You should be certain to give it to him as soon as you see him. Do you have time to prepare a presentation?”

Danny sniggered into his hand.

“I can reuse the posterboard from Current Events class, yeah.” Sam mused. “Good idea. Alright, thanks for the heads up. It’s really good to hear from you. We were starting to get worried here. You missed a check in, you know.” She was trying to sound tough, but there was a hint of strain.

Danny flushed. “Yeah, I had logistical difficulties,” he said, which sounded less pathetic than “I got robbed while I was sleeping outside and had no money to  use to access a computer.”

He ignored the thoughtful look he knew he was getting from Cass and signed off. He avoided making eye contact with anyone as he stretched, hands over his head. Then Danny put his hands on his hips and kind of stretched by rotating his back around. “Well, that’s done. Have fun with Sam, Uncle D.”

Damian made a hum in the back of his throat, eyes lost in thought. “I think I will.” Then he stalked away without a proper goodbye. Just a big housecat, that kid.

“Do you think Jason and Dick will be here soon?” Don’t ask, don’t ask, Danny silently hoped.

Cass looked at him for a long moment, silently weighing options and odds behind her dark eyes. Then she nodded. She turned on her heel and left, obviously expecting him to follow.  

Danny jogged to keep up. How did she move so fast without running? She had short legs, too. He was still busy pondering when they rounded a hallway corner and heard male voices from the entryway.

“Wait.” Cass shoved him the last step with a gentle palm press to the shoulder and then flitted back down the hallway.

“Hey, buddy,” Dick said.

Danny managed a nod in return. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket and tried not to look like he was hiding.

Jason all but oozed reassurance at him, without ever looking at him. As far as the eye could tell, the blonde was barely aware that Danny was present. But under the surface of his skin, his masses of ectoplasm were roiling with  a sort of proprietary indulgence. 

It was a kindness, probably, that the two men continued their conversation as if they were still alone. Danny didn’t really pay attention, thoughts consumed with  a mixture of nerves about his worlds colliding and sobbing relief that he might get really, genuinely full for the first time since he had to run away from Amity Park. He edged a little closer to Jason without thinking about it consciously. 

Cass arrived silently. Danny looked up as she entered the room only because he could sense her steady presence. “Time to go,” he said.

Jason startled with a very small jump. His expression instantly changed to exhausted resignation.

“Haha,” Cass said, pointing at him.

“Poor scared little guy,” Dick cooed. “You can’t sneak up on him like that.”

“Too scary,” Cass said, nowhere near as convincing as Dick at empathy.

Jason scowled. “Shut up,” he complained. He zipped up his jacket and yanked the door open. The sound of early crickets immediately cut into the house along with a fresh, cool breeze. “You both suck.”

Danny felt a faint smile pull at his face. He ducked his head and fell in, following at Jason’s heels. He didn’t look back to see who shut the door. 

Dick drove them all. They parked a few blocks away and made it across the barren, creepy fairgrounds in utter silence. Danny followed his instincts and the source that he’d sensed from kilometers away in the city center but had been too worn down to even try to trek to without at least feeding his human body.

“So, what now?”  Dick turned a cautious circle. “I didn’t exactly expect to see a physical object for you to eat, but I did sort of expect something.”

Danny made a face. “If I had the right tech I could filter and extract it out of the air, condense it into a really dense, liquid form. But, uh.” He turned a little to the side to avoid eye contact and hunched into his hoodie. “I sort of need to just hang out and…filter feed.” He grimaced. He sounded like a dumb fish.

“Inefficient,” Cass observed.

He nodded. “Yeah, but I’m really drained, so I need to be around a high concentration to get a jumpstart. If I needed less, I could probably just…” Danny made a circle gesture and sort of pointed at Jason. “Hang around him, I guess.”

Cass hummed in the back of her throat. “Perimeter.” Then she ran directly at a wall and hefted herself up onto the roof of the derelict funhouse. She was out of sight in seconds, which was impressive athleticism. Danny watched her go with raised eyebrows.

Dick huffed and shuffled even closer to Jason, clearly wary of Cass. “You can’t be the favorite uncle,” he lamented. “That should be me.” Danny choked down a laugh and pretended to be very busy filter feeding.

“You’re just crabby because you aren’t full of delicious ghost juice,” Jason muttered into Dick’s ear at a volume that he clearly thought Danny wouldn’t hear. The banter didn’t stop him from making periodic glances around the area. He caught an elbow to the gut from Dick for the comment and the inattention. Danny took a step further away from jabbing range.

“We aren’t here to hear you brag about how juicy you are,” Dick said out of the side of his mouth. 

EW. But Danny felt smug satisfaction in Jason’s aura at that answer, so apparently it wasn’t as nasty sounding to him as it was to Danny. He made a blegh face, scraping his tongue against his teeth.

‘Maybe I should tell them at some point that I have better than human hearing.’ He pointedly wandered a few steps further away and pretended to be occupied with sniffing out the highest concentration of ectoplasm.

Jason grinned unpleasantly. “No, I usually have that conversation with all of your exes- oof.” Jason bent over and tried to breathe through the hit to his diaphragm.

Danny did his best to ignore the commentary from the peanut gallery. He took deep breaths and tried to keep an eye on all the shadows. 

Amusement Mile wasn’t saturated with high quality ectoplasm like Amity Park, but nothing ever should be. Danny licked his lips and tried to stay alert. There could be any number of distressed or territorial dead around a place like this. It was eerily still. 

“This place is just plain creepy.” Danny hid a shudder. “What happened here?”

Jason huffed a laugh with absolutely no joy in it. “It’s more like what keeps happening here.” Danny glanced over at just the right angle to realize that Jason had a gun in his pocket. Holy shit. A gun. His eyes went wide.

“But nothing should happen tonight,” Dick cut in. His eyes looked tight and tense in a way that his breezy tone didn’t hint at. “The person who likes to use this area as a staging ground is currently in lockup. We double checked before we came out here.”

All three of them tensed when Cass jumped back down off the same building she’d climbed earlier. “Suspicious,” she said flatly.

Dick and Jason instantly lost their facades of ease. Danny realized, a bit late, that this place was really fucking concerning even to the living. “What’s wrong?” Dick snapped out. His posture changed and somehow his shoulders looked broader. Alarmed, Danny glanced between the adults.  

“Someone was here.” Cass held up a very familiar piece of tech. “Inside vent.”

Danny felt the blood drain out of his face. Cass zeroed in on the expression. “GIW,” he said. “Uh, that measures… that senses ghosts.” He licked his lips. “I think we should go.”

“Are you- are you going to be hungry?” Jason’s brow furrowed fiercely. “You think they might have an alert that you came out here?”

“We are more capable than we look.” Dick promised. And his serious voice was pretty reassuring, actually, all things considered. But Danny still felt like he was going to be sick. 

 Tires screeched. It was too late to get out of here.

[universalcas]

Dean wakes up and it's the 24th of January. His 46 yo body aches in new parts that he knows were fine last year but it's nothing he really minds nowadays. Sometimes he can't even believe he made it that far, so if the punishment these days for defying Chuck and Death several times in the past is backpain and some aching joints, that's more than welcome. 24th of January it's like any other day for him. He hasn't celebrated his birthday in years, maybe since he was eight and just because he stole a biscuit and some candles that clearly didn't add up to the right number. A birthday celebration is something Sam always had because he damn well made sure of it. So this year, the 24th of January lands on a Friday that looks like every other Friday when you are (finally) retired from hunting and you live in a big house with your now husband that came back from the Empty and decided to stay for good after a very heart-touching reunion where everyone cried like a baby (including Sam). Said husband is now missing from the shared bed and his side is slightly cold but since he put all the cards (and his heart) on the table, a missing Cas isn't something that scares him anymore.

Sam's in the kitchen, drinking something that's doesn't look like coffee but fortunately isn't a smoothie either. The rays of morning sun that enter from the kitchen windows reflects on his face, his skin looks healthier as it does his own since all of them left the bunker, and Dean is so glad he got to live enough to see his little brother grow and become the man he is today.

"Hey! Where's everyone?" He asks, ruffling Sam's hair quickly enough to avoid retaliation.

Sam huffs and closes the book he's currently reading. Something on civil rights that probably has to do with the online degree he started to pursue a year ago but maybe it's Sam's morning lecture because that's what lawyers-to-be like to read. Dean prefers novels and fiction in general and his growing library is a testament to that.

"Cas and Eileen went grocery shopping" he says. "They took Miracle for a walk and Jack tagged along".

Jack has been spending some time in Heaven these days. There are a lot of things to be fixed and rebuilt under God's supervision but most days, when he isn't needed, he loves to stay in his room reading some comics, gardening with his Dad or going fishing with Dean (the first time he said "Dad! Look what I caught!" Dean cried so hard he couldn't stop for what felt like hours, scaring all the inhabitants of the lake and the poor boy in the process). So, yes, Jack has things to do Upstairs but he wanted to be at home when Uncle Sam and Uncle Eileen came visiting and decided to stay for the night.

He hears Baby's rumble accompanied by a happy bark soon followed by a soft crack of the main door. Both Cas and Eileen carry an excesive number of grocery bags for a single meal for today and Dean doesn't understand why since he know the pantry is more or less full but that feeling is quickly forgotten when Cas makes a beeline (bags and all) to put a kiss directly on his lips. It's quick and chaste, just a brush of lips on lips, but Earth-shattering anyways. Some form of a ritual between them, kissing the other one every time one of them come back from an errand or from just staying outside gardening or giving Baby some maintenance. The kiss means I love you, I'll always come back to you, and it hasn't lost his meaning after all these years.

Dean's voice comes as a squeak after that and he tries to mask it with a manly cough that fools exactly no one. Less alone Cas, whose big smile holds the brightness of a thousand lights.

"Do you need some help with that?"

"We are fine", Eileen says at the same time that Sam says "We should continue fixing the basement, don't you think?"

And that's a weird thing to say because the basement has been Dean's work in progress since he and Cas bought the house four years ago and the second thing Dean's hands love doing the most after touching Cas (out of the bedroom that means everywhere whenever he wants but inside most of the time there are rules) is fixing things. And Dean loves his brother's company, he really does, but he can't do jack shit in that regard so Dean works on it in his time alone. But he follows Sam anyways and lets Cas, Eileen and Jack do their thing since, after coming from the Empty, Cas discovered an interest in cooking (with varying degrees of success) and probably he wants to handle that today.

And ok, maybe being retired from active hunting (not from training new recruits, mind you) has softened Dean's instincts because he should have suspected that there was a plan behind everything because, when they go back to the house, the dining room has been decorated with birthday paraphernalia and the table is full of food and the people he loves the most are wearing a small party hat (even Miracle!) and matching smiles. He doesn't cry when a big pie is placed in front of him with two candles shaped in the form of a four and six and Jack proudly announces that all of it was made from scratch by he and Dad. He doesn't cry when Miracle comes with a box in her mouth that contains a ticket "to anywhere in the country, just you and me, Dean". He doesn't cry either when Sam and Eileen give him a gift of their own in the shape of an envelope that contains an ultrasound of who's going to be a future Bobby or Mary Ellen. And he definitely doesn't cry when he is suffocated in a big hug by his whole family and Cas whispers "I love you so much, Dean" and Jack says out loud "I love you, Dad!".

The question that has been trapped inside his chest the whole day escapes from his mouth only when he and Cas are alone in their room at night.

"Why all of this?"

Cas kisses him. Soft, languid and slowly, like the passage of time.

"I can remember you been proud of us everytime we achieve something" he says. "When Jack built a chair for his room without using his powers, the first time I changed Baby's oíl without your help, when Sam announced he wanted to study Law again, when Eileen got the job she wanted. You were so happy for all of us, Dean, but you should be celebrated too".

There are a lot of things Dean wants to say but none of them come to mind. He's also at lost for words when Cas produces a small box with a ribbon from a lingerie shop he recognises.

Cas's smirk and raised eyebrow are full of dirty promises and sexy rules he's more than happy to follow. But that's, well, that's a story for another time.

"

[konpeitonom]

jimmy headcanons with curly’s niece who is only working with pony express because of her relation with curly… naive and dumb and he doesn’t think she deserves to be working there (sfwandnsfw😬)

jimmy taking advantage of curlys niece.

sfw/nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader - content warnings for legal age gap (18-25 implied reader, jimmy 30s-40s) jimmys character overall. manipulation? don’t like don’t read, block button is right there. minors do not read the nsfw section

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; requester is my friend yayayahahh i hope u like this.. short bc i did not have many ideas. u mentioned in dms he’d have a soft spot for u but idk if i showed that well oopsies. ~ never proofread as always

SFW

— you didn’t deserve your place at all, only got in because your uncle is some high and mighty captain. pony express is cheap, so he’d wonder why they’d add someone completely useless- young adult/older teenager who knows jack shit.

— was bitter about it (as if he didn’t use curly to get his job as well) but stopped when he noticed how cute you were. an idiot who has no idea what she wants to do in life, he needed that.

— i think he started pursuing you at first to kind of piss off curly. maybe not intentionally but like subconsciously, he wanted to hurt curly. and you boarding the tulpar was the perfect moment for that!!

— he’s met you before. him and curly are long-time friends, so probably at some sort of family gathering.. you didn’t catch his eye though, you were a teenager.

— i think he’d grow to have a bit of a soft spot for you, however. i think the others would think it’s simply because he and curly are close, so he has a bias towards curlys niece.

— you’d look up to him. he’s your cool uncles friend! how couldn’t you? and he’s a pilot? that’s cool. so cool. on paper, at least.

— no one would really be mean to you, but if they were, jimmy would get upset at them! it might come off as “he’s just so nice..” to you, but in reality he feels as if he owns you in a sense. you just look up to him so much.

— jimmy thinks it’s cute you’re so dumb and naive. he can mold you to whatever he wants. he has to play smart about it though. he can’t have you running off crying to your uncle, like he’d do anything- but still.

— hes the co-pilot, and while it’s a vital role it’s not like he’s the captain. still though, he’d use that as an excuse to sort of boss you around. like, “that’s not how you’re supposed to do it, are you blind?”

— then right after would say something sweet to keep you coming back. and he likes you, like “yeah, there you go, good job. do it right next time, yeah?” .. he doesn’t speak that way just to anyone, you’re special.

— would touch you subtly.. like light touches on your hips, waist. enough for you to notice but also enough for you to be like, “he’s just friendly” !!

— curly doesn’t notice it, ngl. even if he did he’d just brush it off like, “jimmys always like that with girls, pay no mind too it. but tell me if it gets too much, kid” .. and would still do nothing

— maybe he’d have a ‘talk’ with him? but that’s really it

NSFW

minors do not read

— for your first time, he would be nice about it. seriously. especially if you were a virgin. i mean, in his head he isn’t saying nice things but he’s gotta make you wanna stick around him, no? he’s charming with his words, so allll the shit things he does either flys by your head or are excused with how ‘nice he is sometimes!’

— we see this in the way he interacts with daisuke. he knows exactly what to say. ^_^

— after awhile he’d shame you to hell about it, sorry. doesn’t matter if he initiated it first. you’re still fucking weird for wanting to be with an older guy like him, let alone your uncles friend.

— he’d say shit like, “what if he walked in right now, huh? that’s your uncle.” and would laugh in your face as you clenched around him.

— he fantasizes about doing it in the cockpit, but he knows he can’t because curly can walk in at any time. too big of a risk for him. though maybe that’s the fun of it all.

— he’d do it if you suggested it though haha.. would make you call him captain because he’s weird like that. his jealousy for curly is evident in your relationship!

— “is this what pony express hired you to do?”

— he is a panty stealer. when you fuck there’s a 50% chance you’ll have to run back to your room to get a new pair of underwear because he isn’t giving it back.

— the other 50% is him cumming in your panties and making you wear it. yeah he’s gross, sorry. on your next trip you’ll know to bring double what you usually do.

— sex is all about him, honestly. i mean he knows he has to make it worthwhile so you’ll stay, but besides that his first priority is to please himself.

— contrayer to popular opinion, he likes it when you’re riding him. he feels in control; because at any time he can just grab your hips and fuck you himself.

— likes seeing your face contort and flush, pushing his face away in embarrassment as you make a mess of yourself on his cock.. he lives off that shit

— ok i’m done i hate this man

[babydollmarauders]

TWIN HUGHES — LUKE HUGHES

part of the luke’s gf au !

dolly.notparton

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes, and 56,827 others

dolly.notparton life the past 9 months…. thank you for sharing your birthday @/jackhughes 🤍 pretty sweet of you

Comments on this post are limited

jackhughes not like i had a choice, the twins were coming out whether i wanted to share a birthday or not

dolly.notparton i spent the last 9 months of my life making your presents, you could at least act thankful!

jackhughes do they come with a receipt?

dolly.notparton THATS YOUR NIECE AND NEPHEW YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, YOU UNGRATEFUL SWINE!

jackhughes wtf is a swine?

dolly.notparton god you should’ve gone to college

dylanduke25 TWIN! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!

dolly.notparton oh my god, they can say that and MEAN IT! DYLAN YOURE A GENIUS!

edwards.73 i don’t think anyone has ever said that about duker and meant it

dolly.notparton @/edwards.73 be nice to my dyl pickle

edwards.73 i’d be a lot nicer if you didn’t give me ammo by calling him things like “dyl pickle”

lhughes_06 so grateful for this little family we’ve created ❤️

dolly.notparton i l*ve you <3

lhughes_06 did you just censor the word “love”?

dolly.notparton maybe you would get the uncensored version if you hadn’t left your extremely pregnant girlfriend for hockey? idk, just a thought

jackhughes get him dolly!

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes stay out of this

_quinnhughes dolly and her dolls 🩷💙 i’m so happy for you guys. i know you’ll make amazing parents

dolly.notparton quinny, i love you tremendously. hurry up and finish in the playoffs so you can meet your niece and nephew 🤍

_quinnhughes i love you too but i’m not “hurrying” anything, i’ve got the cup in mind

dolly.notparton so you hate me and my children

_quinnhughes that’s not at all what i just said

dolly.notparton i can guarantee that’s exactly what you just said

lhughes_06 please don’t fight her on this, she’s tired and just pushed out two babies and i know she’ll find a way to be angry at me about this too

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 so i should fight her on this? heard. @/dolly.notparton check your texts

elblue6 my babies and my grandbabies 💗

dolly.notparton love you mama el!! can’t wait for you to come see the twins!

curtislazar95 god help us, they’re multiplying

dolly.notparton maybe i’ll make a whole hockey team of them

curtislazar95 20 sarcastic poodle haired bambi skaters with insatiable appetites

john.marino97 congratulations, guys! i’m happy to hear it was a happy and healthy birth story

dolly.notparton they’ll love their uncle johnny because he’s a twin just like them 🤍

john.marino97 i can teach them all about being a twin

lhughes_06

liked by njdevils, nhl, and 64,291 others

lhughes_06 Milo Oliver Hughes; May 14th 2024, 3:16pm

Luella Grace Hughes; May 14th 2024, 3:20pm

tagged dolly.notparton

Load more comments

dolly.notparton we made those

lhughes_06 fuck yeah we did! we did fantastic!

dolly.notparton and jack tries to say i can’t cook!

jackhughes because you can’t. you burned water. HOW DO YOU BURN WATER?

dolly.notparton @/jackhughes do you see what i cooked up inside of me?! you cried when you saw them!

jackhughes that was between us!

dolly.notparton @/jackhughes and now it’s between us and luke’s 185k followers and probably all of twitter! 🫶

user72 ARE YOU TELLING ME SHE’S BEEN PREGNANT FOR NINE MONTHS AND NONE OF US NOTICED?!

user93 OH MY GOD! LUKE’S A DILF

liked by dolly.notparton

markestapa SHOW ME THE BABIES!

lhughes_06 if you’d check the groupchat for once, you’d see the babies

markestapa oh

markestapa OH THEY’RE SO CUTE! YOU GUYS DID GOOD

lhughes_06 thanks stop sign! 🛑

edwards.73 congrats guys 🤝

lhughes_06 thanks eds 🤝

dolly.notparton this is a birth announcement not a damn frat party photo dump, you guys could add some hearts or at least a damn smiley face!

edwards.73 @/dolly.notparton no 🤝

dawson1417 congratulations! can’t wait to meet them next season!

njdevils gift basket coming your way! 👀congratulations!

user20 TWINS 🥹🫶

rutgermcgroarty swimmers be swimming

lhughes_06 🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️

dolly.notparton do guys think or do they just do?

user85 so not only is luke the youngest hughes brother, but he’s also the only one in a long-term relationship and the first one to have kids… jack and quinn better step it up

user03 they kept this a secret for nine months and then really just pulled a “SURPRISE!” on us?! he played hockey all the way up until the birth— they dropped NO hints

nhl congratulations luke and y/n!

_quinnhughes proud of you two and how much you’ve grown ❤️ not little kids chasing each other around with bugs and porcelain dolls anymore, are ya?

lhughes_06 nope, all grown up. in the league with 2 kids now! thanks bro

dolly.notparton not my fault he was scared of my dolls! have i mentioned that he made me get rid of them when i moved in?

_quinnhughes @/dolly.notparton once or twice a day, yeah

dolly.notparton those were my babies 💔

lhughes_06 @/dolly.notparton i just gave you 2 new babies… the real kind

dolly.notparton luke, you genius! i can get luella porcelain dolls!

lhughes_06 @/dolly.notparton NO! THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT!

_quinnhughes @/dolly.notparton look in the attic when you get home 😉

lhughes_06 THOSE DEMON THINGS HAVE BEEN UP THERE THE WHOLE TIME?!

[aurorawritestoescape]

BAD BLOOD - Part II

Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Summary: your step uncle Joel visits you in your bedroom and then you have a chat with your stepdad Tommy.

Tw: +18, mdni, smut, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), everyone is still horrible, perv!Joel, dark!Joel, dark!reader, darkish!Tommy, slight somno, m/f!masturbation, fingering, cum eating, degradation, tiny bit of praise kink, daddy kink, blackmail, that chin caress but make it filthy, swearing

Word count: 3,5k

A/n: thank you for giving pt 1 such a warm welcome❤️ special thank you for your comments and rbs- your kind words mean the world to me🫶 I hope you’ll like this one!😘

Series masterlist || Part I || MASTERLIST

*******

You wake up feeling a hand on the back of your thigh. You’re lying on your stomach, legs tangled in the blanket. The hand slides down, caresses the back of your knee, then trails up your thigh again, reaching your ass. You feel strong fingers squeeze your ass cheek over your skirt. Still half asleep you imagine a faceless man lying on top of you and piercing you with his cock. You bite your lower lip, while bliss and arousal are spreading all over your body. In your mind the stranger turns into your stepdad and you slightly push your ass out into the hand with a soft moan.

“Naughty girl,” you hear a gruff voice and immediately open your eyes and turn on your back. Your heart is ready to pop out of your chest when you see Joel, your step uncle, sitting on the bed next to you and watching you.

He’s wearing a tight-fitting gray henley and dark blue jeans. His muscles are bulging under the sleeves and a lot of his chest is showing. He looks annoyingly hot.

“The hell are you doing here?" you rasp, covering your thighs with the blanket and straightening your top. You remember you don't have any panties on and squirm under Joel's intent stare.

"Just checkin' on you. Wanted to make sure you got home safely yesterday," he says as his gaze slides over every exposed inch of your body.

"Cut the crap, Joel. I felt you groping me in my sleep," you grumble furrowing your brows at him, "I know you're a scumbag but you still manage to surprise me."

He smiles at you, his eyes dark and icy, "Don't act like a fucking prude all of a sudden, angel. Tommy told me how big of a slut you were."

"Oh, so now you're gonna lecture me on the importance of celibacy or something?" you giggle rubbing your sleepy eyes.

"Not before I fuck you, sweetheart," he replies and the air in the room gets heavy.

You don’t wanna laugh anymore, your pussy tingles and you squeeze your thighs together. Joel notices the movement under the blanket and smirks,

“Need something, angel? Maybe this?” he turns away from you and reaches for something on the bed. When he faces you again you see your vibrator in his hand.

“Give it to me, Joel,” you stretch your arm and open your hand waiting.

“Is it better than a real man?” Joel asks, leaving your words without attention.

“Less annoying for sure.”

“You think of your stepdad when you torture your clit with this?” his gaze pierces you as he’s rubbing the toy with his thumb.

“Fuck off, Joel,” you spit out at him and he smiles, the emotion not reaching his eyes. “Where’s he by the way? Tommy,” you ask, chewing on your lower lip.

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen him since yesterday. You scared him shitless with your ‘yes, daddy’, ‘bye, daddy,’” Joel makes his voice higher, imitating you and you roll your eyes, “he left the bar soon after you. Probably fucked his fist at Walmart’s parking lot, poor guy.”

Joel laughs and you smile dreamily imagining Tommy jacking off to the thought of you. The imagery makes you space out for a moment until you hear Joel’s murmur, “Thinking of daddy’s cock, angel?”

You scoff and bite back, “What about you, old man? You got all riled up too yesterday. Were drooling like a hungry dog all over me.”

“Come on, sweetheart, you can’t blame me, when all your skirts look more like belts,” he returns his gaze to the part of your legs not covered by the blanket and licks his lower lip.

You can’t help but glance at your toy in his big hands. What if he uses it on you? Just this thought makes your core warm and tingly.

“Can I have it?” You sit up reaching for the vibe but he pulls his hand away and you grab air instead. Your chest is pressed to his shoulder now and the mixture of his cologne and sweat makes you gush. Your desire blooms and gets overwhelming.

His gaze slides from your eyes to your lips and chest. You glance down noticing your perked up nipples visible under the top and look back at him not hiding away,

“Like what you see, Joel? How about you show me what a real man can do for me?” you purr while your hand snakes to his thigh and trails up closer to his bulge. He grunts and pushes you back down on the bed with his hand splayed on your chest.

He tosses your toy away. “Open up, angel,” he says with a calm yet stern tone. You hesitate for a second, your heart is pounding, and he raises his brows as a signal to hurry up.

You pull away the blanket and slowly bend the leg that’s further from him. Your skirt slides off your thighs and he takes a deep breath when he sees your wet folds.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts reaching for his belt. He unbuckles it with one hand and unzips his jeans. Your eyes follow his every move, hungry and desperate for anything this perv gives you. He tugs down his boxers and lets the band stay under his big balls.

You see his cock as he takes it out and you grunt through your teeth realizing that you’re fucked. Whatever power he’s had over you by now triples when you see what he’s packing. His cock is thick and long, more gorgeous than anything you’ve seen, both in real life and in porn. Two thick veins on the shaft are calling for your tongue. You desperately want to trace them and take that angry fat head to the deepest part of your throat. You want his cock in every hole you possess.

You lock eyes with him and see him smiling proudly,

“Like what you see, angel?”

Holding his dick in his big veiny hand Joel looks back at your desperate pussy and his warm palm glides up your thigh. He pushes your skirt completely out of the way and grazes your shiny seam with his knuckles. You feel a slight pressure on your clit and take a shaky breath.

“Pretty pussy,” he mumbles, “not the prettiest I’ve seen but she’ll do.”

“Asshole,” you whimper watching his thumb and index finger spread your folds.

Joel whistles. “Have you been this wet the whole time? Dripping on the sheets and talking to me? Naughty girl.”

His cock is fully hard now and he’s slowly stroking it. The sight of it along with his gentle touches send a new surge of arousal to your center and your wetness beads at your entrance and slides down toward your asshole.

Joel catches it with his thumb and brings it to your clit before gently rubbing it.

“Fuck, you’re such a slut, letting your uncle do this to you,” he murmurs pleasuring you and himself.

“Step.. uncle,” you moan, fluttering your eyes shut and arching your back.

The degradation, the depravity of what you two are doing make your pussy clench around nothing over and over and you open your blown eyes desperately looking at his weeping cock.

He notices your hunger and asks motioning to his member, “Want it, angel?”

You nod but it’s not enough for him.

“Say - ‘please, give me your cock, uncle.”

You whine scrunching your nose and his hand leaves your pussy and rests on your belly.

“You’re not my uncle,” you whine, bucking your hips in search of his hand.

“Let’s try again. ‘Please, give me your cock, uncle’.”

Not being able to contain yourself any longer you repeat it through gritted teeth and he tuts, “that’s not how good girls ask. I know you’re far from that title but you can act like one. I saw you do it in front of Tommy. Was cute.” While he’s talking to you his palm is rubbing your mound making you squirm while your pussy’s throbbing for him.

“You’re disgusting.”

He chuckles, torturing you without shame.

You look up at the ceiling feeling anger boiling up in your gut, but your pussy aches more and more and you want him inside you so badly you might cry.

“Give me your cock, uncle, please”, you mewl and his mouth twists into a smirk, your humiliation creates wrinkles around his eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises you sarcastically and leans down to your face. You put your palms on his biceps and he kisses the tip of your nose. His facial hair tickles you, his breath smells of cigarettes and beer.

“I’ll give you my cock when you keep your end of the deal, little slut. And after I’m done with you, ya gonna be so desperate for more, you’ll drag your cute ass to Austin following me like a stray dog.”

You wince ready to snap back at him but suddenly he grabs your pussy and pushes a thick finger into your hole. You gasp and lift your hips into his hand with a whimper.

Joel starts pushing his digit in and out of you, quickly adding the second one and your soaked pussy squelches with every pump of his hand.

“Listen to this sloppy cunt. She wants a nice juicy cock. Or maybe two cocks, angel? Will you take mine and my brother’s dick at the same time?”

You mewl as the image of your stepdad and step uncle ruining your pussy flashes in your mind. The third finger slides in and Joel sits up watching the pleasure twist your face and ripple through your body. Then he starts shaking his hand pushing on the spongy spot inside you with the pads of his fingers as the heel of his palm is hitting your clit at the same time. Your whole body is shaking and a loud moan leaves your lips. He quiets you, covering your mouth with his big hand,

“Shhh, angel…, you’ll scream for me but not today..need you to be quiet…or your daddy will get jealous.”

His words tip you over the edge and you cry into his hot palm, sound muffled and desperate. He’s fucking his fingers into you while you shiver and tremble clumping around his thick digits.

“Yeah, just like that, my little slut,” he whispers, talking you through your high and drinking in your ecstasy.

When your climax subsides, his hands leave your mouth and pussy and not granting you a respite he grabs you by the arm and pulls you up.

You stand up on weak legs and Joel slides his hand through your wet folds. You whine with overstimulation while he gathers your creamy cum. He spreads it over his cock and pushes you to your knees.

You kneel between his thighs, ready to please him and give him the sloppiest head. His throbbing cock is bobbing in front of your face and your hand darts to take it from him but he slaps it away groaning, “Hands off, slut. You don’t deserve it yet. Show me your tits.”

Your anger rises up again and you glare up at him sitting back on your heels. No one has ever said ‘no’ to a dick sucking from you. You still follow his command, yanking your top down and exposing your breasts. “Good girl,” he praises you, starting vigorously pumping his cock and panting heavily, “Gonna come on your pretty face. Want my cum, angel?”

“Yes,” you mumble, mesmerized by his fingers gliding along the thick shaft and over the tip.

“‘course you do, cock hungry slut!” he hisses, grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling your face closer to his length.

It takes a few more strokes and he curses and begins shooting the ropes of cum over your mouth, nose, chin and cheeks. You lick the bitter liquid off your lips staring up into his half lidded eyes.

When he stops coming he doesn’t let go of your hair. Still holding you close between his legs Joel starts spreading his cum all over your face. You take a sharp breath and close your eyes hastily as his hand covers every inch of your skin with his milky spend.

“Joel,” is the only thing you could utter, and the humiliation makes your pussy tingle again.

You carefully flutter your eyes open as his index finger and thumb slide down your jaw, caressing your chin. “Much better” he comments, looking down at you with a smirk. Then he wipes his hand on your bedsheet and gets up. You’re watching with your mouth agape as he tucks his cock back into his jeans, pats your head and leaves your bedroom.

***

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Tommy..” Tomorrow morning my ass! You curse yourself inwardly for telling Tommy that you’d see him the next day wearing his favorite pjs. Of course the fucking weasel left the house as soon as he could to avoid meeting you.

You were so excited to inform him that he would get to fuck his hot stepdaughter and now you’re in the house all alone. Joel left as soon as he came all over your face and your mom is out too probably with Tommy.

Jealousy and anger are eating you alive, you hate them and yourself. On top of everything you are horny. You replay the images of Joel’s hand on your pussy, his fingers stretching your little hole over and over again. You watch a couple of stepcest porn videos imagining Tommy and Joel in place of the actors, listen to the bar recording and come a few times on the couch in the living room - on Tommy’s favourite spot. You don’t clean your creamy slick off the couch after yourself, wishing he’ll notice it.

The sun sets and it gets dark but you don’t turn the lights on in your room. You're lying on your bed, waiting for Tommy to return. You nearly fall asleep a few times but you’ve decided to talk to him today so you slap your cheek to wake yourself up and continue waiting.

Just around midnight you hear a car driving up the street. You glance out of the window and see Tommy's car pulling up the driveway. Excitement and anticipation make your stomach flutter but the happy moment blows out like a balloon when you see your mom getting out of the car as well.

Disappointment twists your face shifting into rage and you grind your teeth.

They enter the house and you hear Jess laughing loudly. “Drunk bitch,” you think and jealousy returns in full force.

They go upstairs and head to the master bedroom. You hear nothing for a while and then the sound of a shower starting. You sneak up to the bedroom and peek through the door.

Tommy’s standing at the foot of the bed taking his shirt off, revealing a white tee underneath which is strained by his broad shoulders and muscular back. His arms look massive as he’s been working out a lot recently. His butt also looks perfect in his dark sweatpants. You drive away your horny thoughts and decide to act while your mom is taking a shower.

You walk into the room, your steps muffled by the carpet and glance at the closed bathroom door.

Knowing Jess you have 15-20 min. You come up to Tommy from behind and snake your hands around his big torso.

“Out already?” He asks, apparently mistaking you for his wife and you smile when he lets you hug him. You nuzzle your face against his nape breathing in the piney scent of his soft hair.

Tommy puts his hands over your forearms and only then realizes his mistake. He turns around rapidly, pushing you away.

“Fuck! What’re you doing?” he hisses as his eyes dart nervously between your face and the bathroom door.

“We need to talk, daddy. Been waiting for you all day,” you pout fumbling with the hem of your silky pj shorts. The ones he likes.

“The hell you’re calling me daddy for?” he asks and shakes his head. “I can’t. We shouldn’t,” he mumbles hurriedly, “let’s talk tomorrow, ok?” He grabs your arm and tries to lead you to the door but you plant your feet on the floor and don’t barge.

Instead you pull him closer to you by the hem of his shirt and open your hand showing him an earbud.

“Sit for a second and listen to this,” you motion to the bed with a warm smile, “please, It won’t take long.” He's glaring down at you, his lips pressed in a tight line.

Slow so as not to spook him you raise your hand to his head and put in the earbud. Still clutching his tee with one hand you take your phone out of your hoodie and play a recording. The recording.

The moment it starts playing his expression changes. His eyes get wide, plush lips part. You drink in his fear and gush seeing him listen to the filthy things he said about you. His eyes are looking through you, concentrated on the dialogue in his ear.

Suddenly his hand darts to your phone, and he commands, “Give it to me!” You’ve expected it so you hide the phone behind your back but he’s reaching for it pushing you with his torso and making you stumble backwards. Your back hits the dresser and his hand clasps your wrist, his face inches from yours, “Give me the phone!”

You look up at him with defiance and say, “Even if you delete it off my phone, it’s in the cloud, daddy!”

You know well that these old men know nothing about the cloud and you see with satisfaction the way his face falls.

You’re enjoying yourself too much. He’s crowding you against the dresser practically hugging you into his strong body. His size, his strength, his scent overtake any sense you have and you buck your hips into him with a whimper. You feel a hard shape of his cock against your lower belly and your heart sings at the realization you’ve given it to him. As if burnt Tommy pulls away from you, his fury replaced by fear. You take a deep breath collecting yourself as you don’t have much time.

“Relax. Take a seat,” you coo, stepping up to him and pulling the earbud out. You push him towards the bed and he obediently sits on its edge, eyes downcast.

You use his shock as a distraction and stand between his knees. Then you carefully perch your ass on his thigh and wrap your arm around his neck, placing the other on his chest. He glances up at you, asking quietly, “what do you want to do with it?”

You feel his stiff length with the side of your thigh, and purr smiling, “it’s a great audio, right? I listened to it twice yesterday. First time live in the bar bathroom…and then again later on my big pink bed. I came so hard listening to you talk about my tight pussy…” you nuzzle his cheek and he flinches but doesn’t push you away. His mustache tickles your face and you giggle.

You bring your lips to his ear and whisper, “I want it too, daddy. I need a real man. And those silly boys…they can’t give me what I want.” Your lips graze the shell of his ear and he shudders. He puts his hand on your naked thigh and for a moment you’re scared he’s going to push you off his lap but instead he gives it a light squeeze.

You're soaking your shorts and probably his sweatpants and moan into his ear, “I…I wanna be loved, Tommy. And I feel loved only sitting on a nice fat cock. You have a perfect one, daddy. And you’re so caring and sweet. Fuck me and I’ll delete your confession. Mom will never know how much you want this,” you look down and he drops his head as well watching your fingers move your shorts to the side exposing your wet pussy. Tommy breathes in sharply and curses. You slide your middle finger between your folds and swirl it around your pulsing clit as the other hand clasps his shoulder, “Just a sneak peek, daddy,” you whimper softly. “And a little taste,” you add, leaving your aching pussy and raising your hand. You show him your middle finger, shiny with your slick and bring it closer to his lips.

Tommy looks at it, eyes dark and hungry under the furrowed brows, glances up at you and mumbles, “you’re sick.”

You shrug your shoulders not putting the finger away. You wait. A gasp leaves your parted mouth when he takes the tip of your finger between his lips and you feel his tongue dance around it licking off your juices. His cock twitches and pulses against your naked thigh and you squirm on his lap, desperate for any pressure.

With a sigh you remind yourself that your time is almost up so you pull your finger out, peck the corner of his mouth and whisper, “I’ll text you the details.” With that you get up, walk to the door and leave just in time before the water stops.

*********

Thank you for reading!💖

Comments and reblogs will make me very happy!💕

Part III

General tag list: @nervousmumbling @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist

Tag list for the series: @milla-frenchy @missannwinchester @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @nana90azevedo @mermaidgirl30 @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @obscurexsorrows @tammythr @cherriescream

If you want to be tagged for this mini series or everything else of mine please let me know!❤️

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay,” he says cheerfully. “Tried YouTube yet? They’ve got tutorials for everything on there. I found a guy who taught me how to change my oil and tie a Windsor knot.” 

“Did you not know how to tie a Windsor knot?” Tim asks, both clearly puzzled and clearly a trust fund kid. 

“Naw, Bruce or Alfie always just materialized it for me whenever it came up,” Dick replies with an easy shrug. “Also had to learn how to shave from Ollie, which was definitely an experience. But Dinah taught me how to smuggle a full bottle of Jack into a bar in fishnets at the same time, which is actually really useful knowledge so remind me to pass that one on later. Donna and I literally saved most of San Francisco and our favorite coffee shop that way once. Oh, and Harvey was the one who explained taxes existed. Did not know those were a thing ‘til I was like, twenty.” 

Twenty-ish, anyway. Well, he’s twenty-three now, probably, so . . . eh, twenty-two at the latest. 

“. . . your life experiences are not universal,” Tim says after a long pause, like getting wooed with handmade nests and giant diamonds by a half-alien superclone and knowing how to tie a Windsor knot at age fifteen is somehow “universal”. No one in this conversation has been even slightly “universal” in their life experiences. 

“Are you telling Superboy about Robin yet?” Dick asks, and Tim–hesitates, a little. 

“I didn’t think it was mine to tell,” he replies carefully. “Most of the Justice League doesn’t even know about Robin.” 

“I told the Titans,” Dick replies with a shrug. “And Uncle Clark.” 

“Jason–” Tim starts, and Nightwing’s sleek feathers all instantly, involuntarily twitch. Tim cuts himself off, and Dick . . . doesn’t say anything, for a moment. 

Jason never told anyone about Robin. 

Though the Joker was pretty bored when he figured it out, apparently. A “real” person wasn’t as interesting as the mask. The mask being a mask wasn’t as interesting, maybe. 

( Dick doesn’t think about how much RAGE it puts in him, thinking about the Joker cutting Jason out of Robin’s wings and finding him BORING. thinking he was LESS than, thinking he wasn’t worth– 

it’s not the time for that. for any of that. 

it’s not. )

“You’re your own Robin,” Dick says. “It’s up to you who you tell what.” 

“I did tell Steph,” Tim says awkwardly, looking away. “Well . . . I mean . . .” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, baby bird,” Dick says. “Like I said: you’re your own Robin.” 

“But you were Robin first!” Tim practically bursts out, gesturing sharply with Robin’s wings. “And it just . . . it feels wrong, to tell people! Like it’s someone else’s secret. I only actually told Steph because I felt like I had to, if we were gonna–if we, you know–but Superboy doesn’t care whether I’m human or not, and she did, and . . . I never felt right about telling her anyway. Just because I thought I was supposed to, not because I . . . sorry. Just . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

( “I’M sorry,” Dick doesn’t say back, because he can never say that to Tim while he’s wearing Robin. 

it never ends up as him saying it to TIM, when he tries to. )

[softtdaisy]

congratulations on your 2k!! I love your work ❤️

I'd like to request Hotch x f!Reader with the song "Dream Boy" by Beach Bunny please! It's giving summer, yearning, meet cute deeply in love vibes but I'll let you get inspired ☀️☀️☀️

https://open.spotify.com/track/6ZSBG3QcCJ3ysPDvnIROVr?si=xMEQG1gqSlOtlSlfyCAqxQ

thankyou!!

summary. Hotch wasn't sure about the bachelor holiday, but meeting you changed his mind

words count. 1 345

song.dream boy by beach bunny

a/n. this is super soft and sweet, I played around the holiday vibes and I hope you will love it 🩷

2K CELEBRATION MASTERLIST

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

“Jack is doing fine.” Rossi laughed on the phone. “For God’s sake, enjoy your weekend, Aaron.” 

Hotch sighed with a little smile. He knew that calling Rossi would only result in him reassuring him about his son, sure, but mostly making fun of his protective behavior. 

It wasn’t his fault, if Hotch was asked. Whenever he had spare time, he was spending it with his son. It seemed logical to him that with his job, he had to enjoy every single minute off he had with Jack. He felt guilty not being in town with him this weekend.

Well, he felt a little less guilty knowing Uncle Dave had prepared the best schedule a nephew could ask for: homemade Italian food, a football game, a restaurant, and other activities he didn’t even know about.

As soon as Hotch agreed to go on this weekend trip, Rossi offered to take care of his son. Maybe too quickly. Making Hotch wonder if this wasn’t a group plan after all.

Derek had booked a whole single trip in some kind of paradisaic hotel, away from the city and with a pool—that was one of his main arguments when he told Hotch about it. The thing was, he booked it way before meeting Savannah, and it wasn’t really appropriate to go on a bachelor trip now that they were dating.

“But you, my friend, are single.” He said the day he put the plane ticket on Hotch’s desk. “It could do some good to you.”

Did Hotch refuse? Yes. Multiple times.

But all the excuses he found got disproved. 

He deserved some days off, and if a case came, they would handle it. He soon didn’t have any other choice but to accept to go on this trip. By himself.

“Fine. Kiss him good night for me, alright?” He said with a sweeter tone. And as soon as Rossi agreed, they hung up, and Hotch was by himself again.

Or, well, not really by himself.

“You really love your son.” You didn’t sound surprised, but admiring. And with your elbows on the table, your face between your hands, and the big smile on your lips, you clearly looked impressed.

If this was Derek’s bachelor trip, Hotch didn’t expect to meet anyone. It wasn’t his plan, and he wouldn’t even pretend it was.

He spent his first day there by the pool, reading a book that had been waiting for him on the bedside table for months. When he felt the sun on his skin and realized the water of the pool and the music playing slightly were the only sounds he could hear, Hotch was grateful he accepted the ticket. He even sent a quick thank you text to Derek.

He honestly didn’t expect more from this. Maybe good meals and the right amount of hours of sleep. 

But definitely not you.

You, who arrived in the middle of the afternoon and sat on the deckchair next to Hotch.

You, who wore the most delicious bikini he had ever seen. He wasn’t an expert, but it looked like it had been created specially for you and your body.

You, who gave him the nicest smile when you greeted him.

You, who put out too much sunscreen from your tube and turned to look at Hotch with an apologetic smile. “This might be weird, and if it is, please ignore me, but…do you need some sunscreen?” you asked with the cutest laugh he had ever heard.

And he laughed back, amused by the situation. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone put sunscreen on him—was it Haley? Probably. “Well, sure, I guess.” He put his book down and sat with his legs in front of you.

You took the same position, your legs bumping into his. And he watched you as you leaned closer to him, your tongue out in the corner of your mouth like it asked you to concentrate.

It asked him to concentrate to not let his eyes go down on the way your bikini was bringing out your chest. Simply when you started rubbing the sunscreen on his arms. 

But maybe Hotch lost it even harder when you slowly moved from his arms to his hands, turning this moment more into some kind of massage. “At least I will have a clear conscience knowing you won’t burn.”

He ignored the way his body reacted to this, how he hadn’t heard someone care for him like that in such a long time. “I appreciate it.” Before your hands fully left his body, he caught one with his hand. “I’m Aaron, by the way.”

“That’s a lovely name,” you replied, winking, before giving him your name.

You chatted here and there the whole afternoon. It didn’t feel too much, too burdening. You both enjoyed each other’s company naturally. It has been a long time since Hotch didn’t feel like Aaron, just Aaron.

This explained why, when you got up to go to a massage you had booked, he grabbed your hand. “Would you…like to dine with me tonight?”

Not for a second did you make him feel like he went too far. Not with the smile you had or the tenderness you used to put your other hand on top of his. “I would love to, Aaron.”

And there you were, dining with your feet in the sand and the sound of the waves next to you.

“Jack is my whole world.” He replied, taking your hand that was lying on the table. “I couldn’t imagine my life without him.” He didn’t talk about how having your eyes on him the whole call made him feel good, not pressured or heard. Just good. Like he was making a good impression on you, and he could feel it from your look at him. Hotch could point out the last time he cared so much about making a good impression on someone. It was probably Beth; that would make sense. And you, he wanted you to keep the best memory of him.

He gave a look at the way your thumb brushed over the back of his hand. “I’m sure you’re a great father.” And the good impression did work, apparently.

The whole evening felt like a fever dream. You talked about many different subjects, from your personal life to the news, your favorite movie to your first memory as a child. 

Hotch never wanted it to end.

“I have a question.” 

You’ve started walking around the beach, hand in hand. You looked like some kind of lover from a romantic comedy. Hotch complimented you on the silk dress you chose to wear, and you said he looked handsome in his navy blue shirt: “It makes your eyes pop.” 

He stopped you in your walk and pulled on your arm so you came back closer to him. “Is offering sunscreen your flirt introduction?”

Your laugh was so sincere it made him giggle. Your hand on his chest lit a fire in his heart he didn’t know was off. And your eyes, oh, your eyes on him made him feel so complete. “I don’t know, did it work?”

Just like Hotch, you didn’t come here to look for somebody. You wanted a moment for yourself, to find who you were away from your life.

A part of you loved to believe fate put that wonderful man on your path to help you through the journey. 

You stood there, looking at each other. One of Hotch's hands slowly moved to your face, cupping your cheek that he caressed with his thumb. His thumb softly touched your lips too. “I think it did,” he whispered, almost like an affirmation for himself more than for you.

But one you needed before closing the gap between you and kissing him.

None of you knew what tomorrow was made of. Let alone the following days.

All you knew was there was no way you would let each other go for the night.

Maybe Hotch should send another thank you text to his team, after all. 

[little-one-eyed-monsters]

Inspired by @absolutebl and @heretherebedork's posts about 10 BL endings they wish had been April Fools Jokes, presenting:

10 BLs with plots that felt like an April Fools' Joke:

(Full disclosure: I loved all of these shows. I finished all of these shows. Whether they were good, bad, frustrating, or anything in between, they scratched an itch in my brain and entertained me to no end; like any well-executed April Fools' prank).

But before that, some honorable mentions:

1. Century of Love (hi grandpa. He's probably too young for you. Also, why is there a fox spirit here? Is this a transmigration series or a fantasy series?! Pick a lane dude!)

2. Pit Babe (ah, Pit Babe. Are you an omegaverse? Are you a sports-themed bl? Are you gay X-Men? Are you the unholy amalgamation of them all? I love this color on you.)

3. The Boy Next World (so he's lying about the parallel worlds... he's just a stalker. Or, wait, there is a parallel world? But he's stal-- oh, now they're both stalkers? What the hell is going on? Well at least the leads are pretty.)

4. Four Minutes (I fried my own brain trying to understand the plot of this one. I spent my viewing hours just listlessly looking at the characters doing something on screen, praying that one day, any day, it will all make sense.)

5. Jack and Joker: U Steal My Heart (this shouldn't make the list. BUT that special episode was a JOKE. I refuse to accept it as canon.)

AND WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

10. Battle of the Writers

Because let's be honest, after the couples got together (which they achieved at an average length of one episode each), THE PLOT WENT EVERYWHERE and NOWHERE all at once. OOH they were childhood friends, OOH now this editor is trying to steal this writer friend from his boyfriend, OOH now this other guy goes on vacation and falls for a random islander, OOH lead character randomly LOSES HIS EYESIGHT, then gets it back an episode later. OOH random actor has a crush on the lead writer.

True to its title, I fully believe that all writers involved in this show had a battle inside that boardroom to see where the series' plot is supposed to go. Sadly, they all won.

9. Dead Friend Forever

...was this a BL? Maybe. Well, they made out with each other a lot in this. I spent half of the runtime wishing half of the characters were dead, and the other half wishing the rest would get the hell out of that school. Pretty, balanced ride now that I think about it.

(Barcode and Ta' characters should have ended up together. The fact that they didn't made this series a true April Fools' joke)

8. Choco Milk Shake

Some of the leads spawned from pets. That's it. That's the premise. Otherwise, this is pretty low on the list because the execution isn't as outrageous as the initial plot. I was kinda wishing they would run with the crazy, but this is Korea. This is as crazy as it'll get.

7. Venus in the Sky

This was as plotless as Battle of the Writers. The only reason this beat out the others on the list is because the plot was so glacially, PAINFULLY slow. The pacing alone was a bamboozle all on its own. Plus, characters would do the devil's tango OUT OF NOWHERE, in the weirdest places. At one point they went to town with each other's bodies while the front door and windows were OPEN. That poor, traumatized neighborhood.

6. Anti-Reset

Main dude fell in love with a ROBOT, programmed by a company, owned by his UNCLE. Thank the heavens the robot didn't look or act remotely like a robot, otherwise this would be at the upper part of this list. The robot can... cry? Are the tears made of motor oil? Battery-fluid? Gasoline? Speaking of fluids, I have questions... bedroom wise...

5. History 4: Close To You

This was a rollercoaster from beginning to end. Manchild meets old crush at his workplace, woes her by... pretending to be in a relationship with his best friend? And then falls for his best friend. Then there was a harrassment lawsuit somewhere in there? And two dudes got married? Aight, aight.

Don't get me started on the stepbros. It's a bit ickier than Unknown's premise, because here their respective parents are still MARRIED to each other when the stepbros start doing the devil's tango. This all feels like unintentional grooming. I'm with your parents on this one, sorry.

4. Utsukushii Kare

I'm gonna say it: Hira deserved better. And I know Kiyoi is made out to be this emotionally-stunted, tortured soul who's secretly been in love with Hira all along, etc. etc. I don't care. Hira deserves to be loved by someone who expresses it openly and proudly. And isn't a bully. Yes I said it.

(Kiyoi did get better in the following season. Hira still should have chosen that photographer friend from college)

3. Word of Honor (I'm counting it. That canon ending where they live together in the mountains is as homo as any on this list)

In hindsight, this one might not be as crazy as the others on this list. Villain assassin falls in love with villain cult leader. A match made in purgatory because turns out, someone else out-evils them both. But as a couple, they made sense.

If only they didn't COMPETE to unalive themselves or each other EVERY OTHER EPISODE. Dude bro puts nails in his own body. Other dude bro jumps off a cliff. Dude bro surrenders to the enemy and suffers torture. Other dude bro sacrifices his life energy so his main dude can survive.

I swear if this was released fifteen years earlier during the bury-your-gays era, both Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu wouldn't have made it past the third episode. Draw the curtains, plot will now focus on Gu Xiang. But no, it's 2021. The gays found the censored unlimited plot armor.

2. Secret Crush on You

The premise? Simple. Guy has crush. Crush likes him back (multiply by five couples).

The execution? UNHINGED. Toh, the main character, keeps a MUSEUM's worth of souvenirs (ehem, trash) of his crush. He kept a paint can. He kept a plastic bag. He kept leftover food, guys. FOOD. He keeps his crush's leftovers DEAR GOD.)

Toh also gets drunk every time they're travelling somewhere, intentionally KISSES the girl who's trying to steal his crush away to... fend her off? Tries to kiss Saint's character because he scored him a photoshoot gig with his crush (Suppapong I'm blaming this all on you). And his crush Nuea is INTO ALL OF THAT. What the ACTUAL HELL.

The rest of the cast was precious. That's the only reason this didn't top the list.

And the biggest joke of them all:

1. My Stand-In (because WHAT IN THE YAOI HELL WAS THIS?)

Screw the bury-your-gays trope. The gay will bury you, resurrect you, make you an escort, and... marry you?

Prior to My Stand-In, I have never seen Poom Phuripan (Joe's actor) act in anything else. From his MDL, he's been in a LOT of projects as a former Channel 8 agent. In Asia, that means you're under a steady rotation of guest and supporting roles in soap operas, most times as either the most expendable character, as a villain, or the anti-hero for bigger stars.

As for Ming's actor, I've only seen Up Poompat in one thing-- a bl called Lovely Writer. I am however aware that he started quite young in the acting industry, had a supporting role in Girl From Nowhere, and did a movie with GMM's Phuwin (didn't watch those before My Stand-In. This was all random info I absorbed from the general internet).

So I know both Up and Poom had more acting experience than most of their bl contemporaries. In their case, they've both been nominated for minor awards in previous roles. They would, on paper, be experts at this point.

And THANK GOD for that. Because only an expert could properly JUSTIFY what the hell My Stand-In's plot actually was.

This is the only show I've seen in my lifetime where one main lead acts like an absolute a-hole, gets little to no character development, gets NO PUNISHMENT for his actions (no, Joe's death doesn't punish Ming. It punishes JOE. He's the one who DIED; screw your tears Ming), then STILL GETS THE HAPPY ENDING. Oh, and he's rich too.

Why does fate love Ming? We don't know. Fate is Ming-sexual.

Meanwhile, the true main lead suffers unjust amounts of physical, emotional, social, and truly dysmorphic trauma, yet... remains a sweetheart? Joe, my friend, you died twice, I THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO STAB PEOPLE NOW. Did I mention he's an orphan? And that Joe lost his career because psycho ex-situationship Ming made him miss his big acting break by HITTING him with a bat and KIDNAPPING him. So he found another job which actually KILLED him DEAD. Then he was miraculously resurrected in another body for a second chance at life, only for him to become the boytoy of... psycho ex Ming?!

Why does fate hate Joe? Because they're Ming-sexual, that's why.

I hate Ming on paper. I HATE him. If I hated Kiyoi as an otherwise misguided school bully, then Ming gets all my rage as the most SPOILED, INSENSITIVE, truly HOMICIDAL mc to ever grace my screen. Each episode felt like a turn, and all turns went left. This was... romance? No, this is a True Crimes episode fr fr.

But that just adds to the surrealness of it, because good lawd Up and Poom can ACT. Up is one fine man, but I don't think his looks alone could have justified Ming's garbage character. Up played the role with such CHARM and nuance that I couldn't look away from his trainwreck. It was masochistic. It's his fault. But was it truly? OH NO.

And Poom's acting was a REVELATION. I've seen other great Thai actors before, and not just in BL. Being Asian myself exposed me to Thai series long before I saw my first queers on screen. Poom could best a lot of them. He played Joe in otherwise natural, blink-and-you'll-miss it actions, sometimes just through his eyes. But he played it in such detail that you could physically feel how lonely he was. How frustrated. How yearning. Truly IMPRESSIVE.

My Stand-In alone convinced me to watch all of Up and Poom's back catalog. They've each played monsters and villains and comedians and love interests in the weirdest series. You guys gotta give 'em a chance. Producers, I introduce to you the one ship in BL that can make your WEIRDEST premises watchable. Hot take: give them the accursed omegaverse Pit Babe cannot commit to. I'm sure they'll be able to glorify your kinks (unless Noeul Nuttarat wants to take a stab at it)

Bonus fun fact since you made it all the way here: did you know Up Poompat's original nickname was ALSO Poom (as in the nickname of his current bl partner?) He used Poom during his BL ship run with Kao Noppakao, as well as many of his previous shows and YT channel. He changed his nickname to Up after he screentested with a DIFFERENT Poom that was supposed to be his new bl partner, but it fell through. Then purely coincidental, he found another partner also named Poom, so at least that worked itself out. So how many Pooms does it take to make a ship? Just one apparently. Otherwise it would be PoomPoom. Sounds like a champion Pomeranian. (Ha, a joke!)

And that's a wrap for the biggest April Fools' pranks on Asian queer television to date. Thank you and sound off which BL you think should make this list. Stay kooky, folks!