#not even done with the drama that inspired me to start thinking about it

[you-are-my-neverland]

you ever watch or listen to something and all of a sudden there’s a whole duology in your head that must be written immediately. anyways: apocalypse fiction anyone? a hint of supernatural worldbuilding and spiritual sensitivity? friends that go through life and death situations? other things that are half formed in my head? 

[ image id: a wall of text in times new roman font, with several sections blacked out. it reads:

THE PREMISE

a duology that spans an apocalypse and then the post-apocalypse world.

BOOK ONE follows the apocalyptic event itself and the aftermath. [several lines of blacked out text]

There are two categories of monsters: Soul Stealers and Sun Eaters (commonly collated as suneaters). Soul Eaters are wraiths, humanoid shadows with glowing silver centers where the human heart would be. [wall of blacked out text]. Sun eaters are Soul Stealers monstrous companions. [sentence of blacked out text]

BOOK TWO is set ten years after the apocalypse and the events of book one. It follows a handful of young initiates who begin training to be Seekers/Guards, those who can traverse the wastelands and combat Soul Stealers and Sun Eaters. / end id]

[deerspherestudios]

Hi there! I just wanted to let you know that I love your games! Mushroom Oasis especially has an especially place in my heart. Mychael is such an interesting character and one of my favorite types of yanderes—not violent towards his object of affection but still manipulative and willing to cross lines even if he feels guilty about it. Thank you so much for the work you have done; it’s obvious this game is a labor of love and I am looking forward to see how the story progresses.

In the meantime, I have to ask, do you think there might be a future option where the player can cook for Mychael? Totally okay if that is a little too specific. Cooking is just a love of mine and I love to cook for people I love and I feel that is something that Mychael would appreciate.

Also—and forgive me if you have answered this already—but I was curious to see where Mychael’s affection lands on the scale you created by the end of day 3. Or would there be more than one answer since it seems actions taken on this day might start to split between the platonic and romantic routes.

Thank you again for your time and for creating this wonderful game. Your art is so lovely and you have a real knack for fun character design.

HELLO!! Thank you so much for the kind words!! For me personally I've never been a fan of "if I can't have you no one can <3" type yanderes so knowing that it's a shared sentiment means a lot!!

I actually have something of an idea where MC does something nice for Mychael for a change in Day 4!

It was closer to buying a gift and the players can choose what they'd get for him but adding a cooking/baking option (or a more diverse set of gifts rather than just shopping for it) seems like a good idea! As usual the script is still cooking so we'll see!

As for the charts, they're answered here and explained here!

Also,,, idk if you'll ever read the addition below but I'm holding back on gushing rn because uh, this is for you personally but it's basically an appreciation post for being one of my fave authors <3!!!:

AAAA A A 11 !! ??

I'm gonna try and articulate myself in the best way I can but I have been a FAN of your writing since??? Gosh, 2015??? I was following your blog back when the pfp was a torchic (and a treecko i think??) and the header was Swiggity swiff Gotta Yiff ?? Idk if you're comfortable with people knowing of your writing but let me know if I should edit anything here!!!

I LOVED your writing so much it was silly and witty but you can do drama and heart and spicy just as well it was a major inspiration!!! I genuinely though it was a little goof when I saw you were following my blog the other day and THEN YOU SEND ME AN ASK??? IM, , , THROUGH THE ROOF, I would mention my fav fics of yours by name but I'd be outing myself but the scope is huge <3

I've been thinking of how to respond to this all DAY and decided to just be honest but but just know I love what you do <3 Admittedly idk if you still write these days but either way I hope you're doing well!!!! <3

[probably-writing-x]

Hotter and Hotter

Summary: hi 👋🏼 I don’t know if you take any request now but I will still ask.. Can you write about the scene of the grocery when Conrad just lean on and take a sip (he was soo f hot ) and make it like more flirty and it can go like you want between Conrad x yn? thanks u ❣️

Warnings: Sexual references (Minors DNI)

Author’s Note: I’m not taking requests atm but this came through and I was inspired so maybe I am taking requests, we’ll never know xoxo

“This is the hottest it’s ever been I swear to God,” Conrad grumbles from the couch, hand resting on his chest.

“Well you try and fix the air con then, because it’s doing fucking nothing when we try,” Steven shrugs his shoulders, his head resting back against the seats of the couch from where he sat on the floor.

“You’re an engineer Steven, isn’t this like your job?” Belly points out, dragging her hair away from her face.

The air conditioning in the house had been out all morning and the temperature had been slowly rising with the sun. Now, it was stifling hot inside the house and just as bad outside too. And, clearly, the group were at their wit’s end.

“Okay, can we please stop talking about it? Like, can we talk about anything else?” You roll your eyes, your back against the couch where Conrad was laying, your head mere inches from his.

The two of you had been friends for years, ever since Belly and Steven had started coming to the summer house, you had too. The group of you were always inseparable whenever you were all in Cousins. But, before this summer, you and Conrad had realised your feelings for each other. He’d started calling you every night, texting you more and more often, and eventually the two of you spoke to each other more than anyone else. You’d both agreed, however, that is was not worth the drama for the rest of the group to know that anything was going on. You’d kept things completely private and, so far, it worked.

You’d turned up to the summer house this year terrified to see him again, and when you had done, it was like there was a weird tension that you’d never known before. There were sparks whenever he looked at you, electricity coursing through you whenever you briefly touched. You hadn’t even kissed the boy and yet all you could think about was doing so. It was driving you insane.

“Well, what else do you want to talk about, (y/l/n)?” He turns his head so that it is facing you but you keep your gaze averted away, worried he’ll make you blush.

“Anything,” You groan, “Like, seriously, it’s making it worse if all we talk about is how hot we are.”

He smirks, “You think you’re hot, (y/n)?”

You whip your head around to face him and roll your eyes, “Grow up, Con.”

His smirk remains, eyes trailing over your face as the conversation grows behind you. Jere and Belly were agreeing on getting into the pool and Steven was refusing to join them under the premise that he couldn’t find any swimming shorts in his suitcase.

“How about we head to the store?” Conrad suggests, pushing himself up to sit on the couch, “We can get some cold drinks, some ice cream, anything remotely cold.”

The group all sound into chorus of agreement and you nod too.

“Yeah, just get anything they’ve got,” You encourage, watching as he swings his legs over the side of the couch so that he’s sat next to you now, his knee bumping your shoulder.

“Oh, you’re coming with me,” He nudges you, “I need someone to help me push the cart.”

Conrad stretches out a hand to you and waits for you to take it.

“Right because that’s definitely a two person job,” You roll your eyes, taking the grip of his hand and pushing yourself up from the floor.

“Oh, absolutely it is,” Conrad shrugs his shoulders, walking out of the lounge towards the front door, grabbing his car keys on the way.

———

You sit in the passenger seat and he sets his hand behind your chair as he reverses, the air con in his car blasting enough for you to both cool down.

“Why didn’t we think of coming in your car earlier?” You question, glancing out of the window at the changing street beside you.

Conrad turns his head in your direction, “Because then they’d all want to come.”

You nod in agreement and fall silent, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“So, has anyone said anything about…”

“What? Me and you?” You finish the sentence for him, “Why? Do you think they know?”

Conrad smirks a little, “Jere told me that sometimes you talk in your sleep and he can hear you through his wall.”

You frown just slightly, cogs turning in the expectation of what he was about to say.

“Apparently he heard you call my name,” Conrad fully grins then, turning the car into another corner as he approaches the store.

You feel your face heat up more than the sun was capable of, your heart sinking a little, “I did… I mean he heard… what?”

Conrad chuckles gently and his hand moves from the wheel to squeeze your leg, “Oh come on, (y/l/n), I already knew you were obsessed with me.”

You clench your jaw and look away from him, the embarrassment seeping through you. He squeezes your bare leg again and keeps his hand there as he pulls into a space in the parking lot.

“Okay I’ll get a cart and I’ll meet you at the checkout,” You nod, taking a deep breath to relatively compose yourself as you get out of the car.

Conrad follows behind you, fighting back the smile on his face. He walks up behind you as you go to get a cart, his arms dropping to either side of your hands on the handle, thumbs brushing your pinky fingers.

“See, Ive just got so many questions,” He mumbles the words into your ear as his chin drops to your shoulder.

You feel a tingle go over your spine and quickly step out from underneath his arm, “And I won’t be answering them.”

Conrad persists, of course, pushing the cart into the store and following your every move.

You both take a silent sigh of relief at the feeling of the air con in the store, walking a little slower as if to revel in it for as long as possible.

“Okay, so what was this dream about?” Conrad asks, stopping the cart as you throw in a few items from the produce section.

You make brief eye contact with him in the coldest glare you can muster, “Con, I said we’re not talking about this.”

“I mean, it must’ve been pretty good for you to be calling my name,” He points out nonchalantly, throwing a few bags into the cart, “So, tell me what it was about?”

You spin on your heel and grip the end of the cart, squeezing down on the plastic as you look at him, “Conrad, I don’t remember, okay? Now can we please drop this because you’re being an asshole.”

He raises his hands as if in a gesture of surrender before placing them back on the cart and following you still in your slow steps around the aisles.

Conrad didn’t need to know to boost his ego, or to use it against you. He needed to know because the thought of you thinking of him like that made him feel like a kid with his first crush. He was infatuated, and his curiosity was getting the better of him.

Things were awkward between the two of you now, and neither was willing to break the tension with any form of conversation.

You were embarrassed, of course you were. The chemistry between the pair of you had been sky high since you’d arrived back in Cousins - all of the awaited feelings of seeing each other again had come bubbling to the surface. And yet neither of you could do anything about it. So there it stayed - bubbling wildly on a surface that would not release. Of course you were thinking about him, how could you not be?

“Okay, you get the ice and pay for this, I’ll meet you at the car,” You nod, holding your shoulders a little more sure of themselves.

“Oh, so I’m paying?” Conrad raises his brows, stopping in his tracks with a bag of ice in his hands.

“Your daddy’s credit card will,” You taunt in response, disappearing around the corner of another aisle to leave him to his own devices.

Minutes later, Conrad appears through the sliding doors of the store, the fully loaded cart bumping in the parking lot in front of him. You’re stood by the car, waiting for him, two large drink cups in your hands.

“And what’s this?” He nods his head a little towards the drinks, eyes returning back to yours.

“A peace offering,” You shrug your shoulders, “I’m sorry I got annoyed about you asking about… I just, I was embarrassed and I didn’t want you to think I was some weird stalker that was obsessed with you or something.”

Conrad laughs gently, the kind of laugh that always manages to ease your worry. He steps out from around the cart so that he’s mere inches from you.

“You know,” He lowers his torso down to take a slow sip from the drink, darkened eyes staring up at you as he does, “If you wanted to be screaming my name in the night, you should’ve just asked.”

Your mouth falls agape slightly as all words seem to escape you.

“Come on, I’ll load this up before the ice cream starts melting,” He clears his throat, as if nothing had happened, “Get in the car.”

You oblige and sit in the passenger seat waiting for him as he piles the bags into the trunk, climbing into the driver’s seat shortly after.

He reaches over to take his cup from your hand and his fingers brush yours - still electric as you repeat over the words he’d just said.

“So, home?”

You hum in agreement and keep your eyes focused on the road ahead of you as he reverses out of the spot, unable to hide the smile tearing at your face.

———

“We’re back!” Conrad calls out as the two of you head inside, arms full of brown paper bags.

“Thank god!” Jere exclaims, grabbing a couple of the bags from you to alleviate the weight, “Successful trip?”

You and Conrad exchange a quiet glance before looking back and both saying at the same time, “Yeah.”

Jeremiah frowns at you and his brother, “You two are weird.”

He helps to unpack the shopping before turning back to both of you.

“Hey, Con, did you ask (y/n) about her dre-“

“Grow up Jere,” Conrad snaps quickly, throwing the last bag of ice into the freezer.

You look at him and smile a little to yourself, averting your eyes back to the drink in your hand.

Jeremiah rolls his eyes at his brother and disappears out of the kitchen, leaving just the two of you once more.

“Here, they’ve not melted yet,” Conrad pulls an ice pop from one of the boxes and unwraps it, handing it to you.

You set down your drink and take hold of the wooden stick. Now was your chance to get him back. You make sure you’re stood as close as you can get to him, your eyes gazing upwards to focus on his. And you stick out your tongue, drawing it from the bottom to the top of the cold ice, not once breaking eye contact with Conrad as you pop the top in between your lips and suck gently before pulling away.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows the lump in his throat, and find yourself hiding back a grin at your obvious effect on him.

“What’s wrong Connie?” You ask him through batted eyelashes, “You look all… flustered.”

It’s almost as if you see the second that the cogs turn in his brain as his hands stretch out to grip your waist, both tightening to lift you up and onto the kitchen counter behind you.

And then, without a second thought, his hand grips your face and he pulls you in to kiss him. It’s rushed at first and overly fueled by passion but you don’t care. He can taste the sweetness on your lips and it only seems to encourage him more, kissing you like he’d been waiting to do so for years. His hand tightens once more on your waist, pulling you into him as closely as he can as your hands grip onto his shoulders.

Conrad pulls away then, only breaking contact at your lips to catch his breath as his forehead rests against yours.

“Don’t tease me,” He grumbles quietly, his lips plump in the absence of you.

You chuckle a little, nudging his head a little more, “From what just happened there, maybe I should be teasing you more often.”

Conrad smirks and pulls away, standing up straight as both of his hands settle on either side of you on the counter. He glances behind you at where the large glass doors lead out to the garden, “You know, nobody’s actually in the house.”

You turn over your shoulder to catch a glimpse, “Yeah, looks like it’s just us.”

He takes the opportunity as you’re turned away to kiss at the exposed skin of your neck, his touch hotter than any weather was capable of.

You let out a quiet moan and grip the back of his head. Damn, he was good at this.

“Connie-“ You hum, pushing into him as closely as you can.

He smirks against you and pulls away, eyes widening slightly at the mark left on your skin from his lips.

“We should probably join the rest,” You comment, dragging your fingers through his hair.

He flutters his eyes closed at the contact and sighs, “Five more minutes.”

Conrad leans in to kiss you again but stops as he hears;

“Conrad! Can you bring the ice pops out?” It’s Stephen yelling to the pair of you.

You look at Conrad and laugh a little, hopping down from the countertop, “Come on, before they suspect anything.”

“I think that mark on your neck will make them suspect enough.”

You bend down to take the ice pop box from the freezer and reach one hand behind your head to untie your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders.

“There we go, it’s like it never happened,” You wiggle your eyebrows and saunter outside towards the garden.

Conrad watches as you go, a smile on his face before his eyes drop to the barely-touched ice pop you’d both discarded onto the counter.

Thank god for hot weather.

[pandapetals]

One Of Your Girls

worst wolverine/logan x fem!reader - inspired by a troye sivan song, fluff, cute, happy ending, wade being wade, no y/n used, no reader description

Wade ships you and Logan together and tries to help make y'all a couple.

read on Ao3

You sat on the worn-out sofa in Wade’s living room, half-listening as he rambled on about his latest grueling day of being the “sexiest superhero alive.” He and Wolverine—or Wolvie, as Wade annoyingly liked to call him—had teamed up again, taking down some bad guys and saving the world, or at least a very small part of it.

“So there I am,” Wade continued dramatically, gesturing wildly, “surrounded by ninjas, which isn’t really a surprise because let’s be honest, ninjas are kind of my thing at this point—classic Deadpool. But Wolvie’s just there, growling and stabbing his way through, and I’m like, ‘Dude, we get it, you’re the strong, silent type, but maybe use your words once in a while?’”

He kept talking, something about the “grueling emotional labor” of working with Logan, but you weren’t really paying attention anymore. Your gaze drifted to the hallway, where Logan emerged from the bathroom with a grunt, a small towel barely hanging around his waist. His skin glistened with droplets of water from the shower, the muscles in his back rippling as he stalked down the hall.

You tried to tear your eyes away, but it was like gravity itself was keeping you glued to him. Logan moved with that same effortless intensity, his brow furrowed like he was annoyed at the mere existence of the towel. The heat rose to your face, and you quickly looked down, but not before catching a glimpse of Logan’s rough hand wiping the moisture from his chest.

Wade, of course, noticed because when doesn’t he notice?

“Geesh, I knew you were down bad for Wolvie, but—” Wade started, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to share some scandalous secret.

Without thinking, you slapped his shoulder to shut him up, your face burning as you tried to compose yourself. Wade, ever the drama queen, let out an exaggerated gasp and clutched his shoulder like you’d just thrown him into the sun.

“Ow! That hurt my feelings,” he said, turning toward an imaginary camera because, of course, he was breaking the fourth wall. “She hit me, folks, and not in the fun, sexy way either.”

You shot him a glare, your lips pressed into a tight line, though you couldn’t help the flicker of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Wade wasn’t done. He never was.

“You know, it’s always the quiet ones,” he added, stage-whispering as if that would somehow make Logan disappear or teleport out of the apartment in embarrassment. “Can’t say I blame you though. Look at him, all angry and dripping wet—he’s like a feral wolf in an Old Spice commercial. Honestly, if this was the kind of quality content the MCU promised me, I wouldn’t have jumped ship for Deadpool 3: The Comeback —coming soon, by the way.”

Logan, ignoring Wade as per usual, had already stalked off toward his room. He muttered something unintelligible, probably about how Wade was going to get his ass kicked later, but the low rumble of his voice still made something in your stomach twist. He hadn’t even looked at you, but you felt the heat creeping up your neck, spreading to your cheeks.

Wade, of course, was not done with his commentary. “Dude, he didn’t even throw you a glance,” he said, wagging a finger. “I mean, if I walked out of the shower looking like a damn Greek god with claws, I’d at least give a wink. Maybe even a smolder. Oh, wait!” He perked up and leaned forward, his voice dropping to a faux-conspiratorial tone. “What if he’s doing that on purpose? You know, like a power play? He’s got the whole brooding, tortured thing down—girls love that, by the way.”

You slapped him again—lighter this time, but Wade still let out an exaggerated groan.

“Oh, c’mon! The sexual tension in here is thick enough to slice with one of Logan’s claws. You’re telling me if he showered in your apartment, half-naked, and you wouldn’t immediately jump his bones? What are we even doing here, people?”

You groaned, running a hand over your face, trying not to die of embarrassment. “Wade, for the love of God—”

“God has abandoned this apartment long ago,” Wade interrupted, standing up dramatically, his arms wide as if making a declaration. “But don’t worry, I’m here now, and I’m more than willing to give you both some fantastic relationship advice.”

You shook your head, biting back a laugh. "Wade, the last time you gave relationship advice, you told someone to ‘just show up shirtless’ and that would fix all their problems.”

Wade grinned, completely unbothered. “Did it work?”

“They were arrested for public indecency.”

“Semantics!” Wade waved it off, flopping back down beside you. “Now, where was I? Oh, right. Wolvie. You know, he's probably sitting in his room right now, thinking about you. Brooding, shirtless, glaring out the window like some tragic anti-hero from a really dark fanfic.”

Before you could respond, Logan reappeared—this time, fully dressed but still clearly annoyed. “Wade, shut the hell up.”

Wade, undeterred, turned toward you and whispered loudly, “See? I told you he was brooding. He’s totally into you.”

You shot Logan an apologetic look, though you could tell from the tightness around his jaw that he was this close to throwing Wade out a window. Logan didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered on you just a second too long before he stormed off again, muttering something about “goddamn loudmouths.”

Wade leaned back on the sofa, folding his arms behind his head with a smug grin. “Oh, yeah. He’s in deep. ”

The rest of the day was filled with more of Wade’s sarcastic quips and Logan’s signature gruffness, but beneath the surface, something had shifted. By the time the sun set, Wade had finally left leaving you and Logan alone in the apartment promising to bring back pizza.

Logan was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking worn out, his head hung low as he rubbed the back of his neck. You stood in the doorway, watching him quietly for a moment before stepping closer.

“You alright?” you asked softly.

Logan grunted in response, his usual noncommittal way of saying “I’m fine.” Before he glanced up at you, and something in his expression softened. His shoulders relaxed slightly as you sat down beside him, the silence between you comforting.

“Wade get to you?” you asked with a smirk, nudging him playfully.

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “That guy never knows when to shut up.”

“Yeah, well, you gotta admit, he’s got a point,” you teased, nudging him again. “You do tend to brood.”

Logan gave you a look, his usual scowl softened by the hint of amusement in his eyes. “I don’t brood.”

“Right. Sure you don’t,” you said, smiling as you sat on the bed beside him. The air between you was lighter now, but that familiar, charged tension still lingered, just under the surface. “So… was Wade right? You were totally into me earlier, weren’t you?”

Logan chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his still-damp hair, his muscles still tense from the fight and the usual Deadpool chaos. “You’re ridiculous.”

“ You are,” you countered, your voice taking on a teasing tone. You leaned in closer, bumping your shoulder against his. “I mean, look at you. Everyone loves you. I swear, every time we go out, every woman in the room is practically lining up just to—”

“Would you stop? You sound like Wade,” Logan grumbled, his voice low but without any real annoyance. He shook his head, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laughed, your eyes sparkling as you nudged him again. “I’m serious, Logan. I’ve seen the way they look at you. Like they’re all just waiting for their turn to fawn over the ‘mysterious bad boy.’ The brooding, the claws, the ‘I’ve been through hell’ vibe—it’s working for you.”

Logan shot you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “I’m not trying to ‘work’ anything.”

You shrugged, your grin widening. “That’s the problem. You don’t even have to try. You just walk into a room, grumble a bit, maybe glare at someone, and they’re hooked.”

He grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh, please. Next time we’re out, I’ll start keeping a tally of all the looks you get,” you teased. “What’s it like being the main character in everyone’s secret fantasy?”

Logan huffed, giving you a side-eye that would’ve scared anyone else, but you just smiled. “Keep it up, and I’ll start sounding like Wade for real.”

You burst into laughter at that, imagining Logan in full Deadpool-style monologue, breaking the fourth wall mid-fight just to complain about your teasing. “I can’t wait for that.”

“Not happening, darlin’,” Logan muttered, but his voice was warm, and the smirk playing on his lips betrayed him.

The playful banter between you felt easy, natural—like this was how it should be. No walls, no tension, just you and Logan, comfortable in the teasing, in the back-and-forth that had become the foundation of your relationship. For someone as tough and guarded as Logan, moments like these were rare, and you cherished them every time. 

As the laughter faded, the mood shifted. You were still sitting close, the air thick with something more. The lightheartedness gave way to a quiet intensity, and suddenly, the space between you felt smaller and more charged.

Your eyes flicked to his, and you found him watching you, his gaze a little softer now, a little more focused. The teasing smile on your lips faltered, but only for a moment. You leaned in slightly, just enough for your shoulder to press against his, your hand brushing against his forearm.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice quieter now, more sincere. “I wasn’t joking earlier. You really do have people falling for you left and right.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away. “Doesn’t matter,” he said gruffly, his voice low. “I’m not interested in ‘people.’”

There it was. That honesty, that vulnerability he rarely showed anyone. You’d gotten used to the way Logan opened up in small doses, revealing just enough for you to see through the tough exterior he wore so well. Each time, it made your heart flutter a little more.

You raised an eyebrow, your voice dropping to a whisper. “No?”

Logan shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “No.”

For a moment, the room felt completely still, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. The weight of what he wasn’t saying hung between you, and you could feel your pulse quicken, the tension between you building by the second.

“Good,” you murmured, leaning in just a little closer, your breath mingling with his. “Because I’m not interested in sharing.”

A low growl rumbled in Logan’s chest, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer as his other hand cupped your cheek, his rough thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Who said anything about sharing?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you closed the distance between you, your forehead resting against his. The moment stretched on, your heart racing in your chest as you waited for him to make the next move.

Then, finally, Logan closed the gap.

His lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, the kind that sent heat rushing through your entire body. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was steady, intense, like Logan was savoring every second. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. You kissed him back just as deeply, letting yourself get lost in the feel of him—his warmth, his strength, the way his body seemed to mold perfectly against yours.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your lips still hovering just inches from his. Logan rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your cheek as his thumb traced lazy circles on your skin.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he muttered, his voice rough but affectionate.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the damp strands still clinging to his head. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I do.”

A Few Days Later…

The teasing between you and Logan hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. Especially Wade, who had already managed to weave an elaborate tale of unrequited love between the two of you, complete with bad fanfiction-level plot twists.

“So, you guys finally make out?” Wade asked one evening, leaning against the kitchen counter with a smug grin plastered on his face. “Or are you still in the ‘awkward pining’ stage?”

You sighed, giving him a deadpan look. “What do you think, Wade?”

Wade’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh my God, it happened, didn’t it? I mean, of course, it did! I knew it! Everyone, Deadpool called it—Logan and his better half finally—”

Logan shot him a look that could kill, his claws extending just slightly. “Wade.”

Deadpool raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger! Or, in this case, the super-insightful, super-hot guy who predicted your inevitable romance. I’m just here to celebrate. Maybe I should write a poem about it.”

Logan grunted and shook his head, but you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Wade turned his attention to you, winking like the two of you were in on some grand scheme.

“You’re welcome, by the way. All my meddling totally paid off. You owe me one, well I guess you owe the writer of this fic but I’m totally taking credit.” 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. “Sure, Wade. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Sleep? Who needs sleep when you’ve got love to keep you warm?” Wade sighed dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “Honestly, I should start a matchmaking service. First Logan and you, next the world.”

Logan groaned. “Wade, shut the hell up.”

Wade grinned, unfazed as ever. “Love you too, peanut.”

[egcdeath]

never go to bed angry

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: under the immense pressure of the suburbs, you and patrick deal with the fallout of an argument. 

word count: 1.9k

warnings: domesticity, PTA, a little angst, mostly fluff, you have a (currently unnamed) child, you’re a little emotionally constipated

author’s note: shoutout to 🫀 anon for breaking my writers block and inspiring this fic! i’m thinking that this will be part of a series of vignettes so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any future fics! 

Every couple that had been married for a long time always gave you the same piece of advice: Never go to bed angry. 

Though this advice seemed simple, it was much easier said than done. Since your move to suburbia, the den of your home had become somewhat of a second bedroom to Patrick, a place where he could retreat in the aftermath of your arguments.

While you hadn’t argued much while you were hopping from city to city, living out of hotel rooms with your daughter and your athlete husband, the pressure of your small town had changed that completely. Now, your Cold War style arguments felt commonplace, and often left you sleeping alone in a bed that felt far too big for one person. 

Like many recent nights, tonight was one of those nights. You and Patrick had gotten into a small disagreement after he’d been much too outspoken at a PTA meeting, stirring up unnecessary drama with a few other parents for no real reason. That small disagreement spiraled while the two of you drove home, with Patrick insisting that his dispute at the meeting was completely necessary. You strongly disagreed. 

Your disagreement wasn’t made any better once you arrived back at home. The minute you relieved the babysitter of her duties, Patrick went right back to insisting that he was in the right in a situation where he was very obviously in the wrong. He continued to bring this up as he cooked dinner, leaving you no other option but to remove yourself from the situation. 

For the rest of the evening, you kept your negative thoughts to yourself. Clearly, your disagreement wasn’t very productive. 

While you were technically still in an argument, it was by far one of the more tame arguments you’d been in—which was why it came as such a surprise when you stepped out of the shower to find Patrick’s side of the bed vacant and pillowless. 

Disappointed, but not particularly surprised, you sat down in bed and patiently waited for sleep to take you under. 

Turning to your side, you secretly hoped that your daughter would burst into the room, seeking solace in you and her father after having a bad dream. As much as you’d love her company, you knew that this outcome was unlikely, since your daughter was starting to grow out of her phase of coming to you after having a nightmare. 

Part of you wished that Patrick would stroll right back in, ready to argue with you and plead for you to fight for your relationship. Though there was a time in your relationship where most of your arguments ended that way, Patrick hadn’t been doing much of that lately, realizing that you would rather ice him out than confront him with your feelings. With that in mind, you realized that you were likely on your own for the rest of the night. 

You sighed as you curled further into yourself, missing the weight of Patrick’s muscular arm holding onto you possessively and the practically unbearable heat of his body behind you. Even if you ended up separating during the night, it was rare that the two of you didn’t start your bedtime routine with a romantic cuddle. 

You glanced at the door to your bedroom, as if you could produce your husband from thinking about him hard enough. Despite your best efforts, Patrick did not come out to talk to you, nor did your daughter. 

In an abrupt movement, you sat up and got out of bed. You hastily began to walk towards your door, knowing that if you thought too hard about your actions, you might end up backing out. 

You shuffled out of your room, listening for the telltale sound of Patrick’s soft snores. When you didn’t hear them, you kept moving forward, passing your daughter’s bedroom and peeking into the room to find her sleeping peacefully. You reminded yourself that you weren’t just doing this for you, but for the sake of your family. 

The den was your next stop, where Patrick was lounging on his makeshift bed for the night. He looked up at you from a book as if he was surprised, although he’d certainly heard the sound of you making your way through your home. Maybe he thought you were stopping by the fridge for a midnight snack after your tense dinner ended in neither of you eating much. 

“Hey,” you greeted casually, as if you weren’t in the midst of a tense, domestic battle. 

“Hi,” Patrick replied, setting his book down and blinking up at you. You knew him well enough to recognize his confusion. You were never the person to break the ice after an argument, so what you were doing now clearly took him by surprise. 

“Can I sit?” you asked, feeling a little awkward standing above your husband. You slipped your hands into your pockets, hoping that having something to do with your hands would quell your anxieties. 

“Of course,” he said, scooting over on the couch-turned-bed and patting the spot he made for you. 

“I always forget how soft this is. We made a good furniture choice,” you commented as you sat, making polite small talk that easily danced around having to apologize or talk about your feelings. 

“It’s like we picked it knowing that I’d be sleeping on it every other night,” Patrick joked, though you didn’t find it particularly funny. “Sorry,” he followed up once he noticed your lack of laughter. 

“No, it was funny,” you assured him, not wanting to make things any worse. “It was just…” you trailed off. 

“Too soon?” Patrick asked, picking right up where you left off. He always seemed to be better at expressing these things than you were. That was one of the many things you loved about him. 

“Yeah. Are you staying out here tonight?” you asked, hoping your question would tell Patrick that you didn’t want him to sleep in the den without explicitly expressing it. 

“Depends. Do you want me to?” he asked, leaning over and pushing a strand of hair back behind your ear. You leaned into his gentle act of affection. 

“No?” you replied after a bit of hesitation. You didn’t want to pressure Patrick if he was angry enough with you to stay away from you, but you also didn’t want to be alone. 

“Honey,” Patrick began softly. “Just be honest with me. Do you really want me to sleep in here or come back to our room?”

You blinked at him, unsure of why it was so difficult for you to just be forthcoming with your emotions. It was always so much easier to express yourself when Patrick anticipated your needs. Surely, he knew that you wanted to sleep next to him. You always did. 

“You should come back. If you want,” you added the last part abruptly, hoping you weren’t pressuring him one way or another. 

“What do you want?” he pressed you further. 

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, you heard the familiar pitter-patter of your daughter’s feet. The two of you turned your attention to the girl, who was currently clutching a stuffed animal and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

“Did you guys build a pillow fort without me?” she asked, sounding a little offended as she approached the two of you. 

“Never! We were just about to invite you,” you lied easily, somewhat appreciative for the interruption in the midst of Patrick trying to teach you how to be direct. 

“Uh-huh,” she said, unbelieving as she crawled into your lap. Even as young as she was, she’d already taken on her father’s sass. 

“We’d never make a pillow fort without you, Bug,” Patrick told her, moving to sit next to the two of you. 

“Clearly, you just did,” she said with a pout. Her theatrics reminded you of Patrick, and how he always seemed to have his emotions written all over his face. You broke into a soft smile as you thought about the resemblances between your beloved husband and daughter. “It’s not funny, mommy.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s not,” you assured her. “How about this: We can go back to sleep tonight, and tomorrow we’ll all work together and make the most amazing pillow fort ever. Deal?”

“Hmm…” she pondered, putting her hand to her chin as she pretended to think about it, though she’d already made up her mind.  “Deal.”

As soon as you began to move your daughter off your lap, Patrick swooped in and grabbed her, picking her up and standing up at the same time. “You and Mr. Teddy are gonna have so much fun tomorrow,” he told her as he carried her to her room, your daughter giggling as Patrick booped her nose. 

“What are we gonna do?” she asked. 

“Maybe another tea party? What do you guys wanna do?” he asked, their voices fading as they made it back to her room.

You figured that you would take this opportunity to gather Patrick’s bedtime belongings back to your bedroom. If Patrick really wanted to know what you wanted, it couldn’t get more straightforward than you wordlessly moving all of his items. 

As you walked back to your bedroom with blankets and pillows in hand, you caught a quick glimpse into your daughter’s room, where Patrick was quietly talking to your very sleepy child. You wanted to linger, to watch him and remind yourself of how special your family was, but you decided against staring for too long. 

Still, it was an extremely cute sight. Overwhelmed with many emotions, you felt grateful that you picked Patrick to start a family with, despite some of the drama that the two of you stirred up. 

When Patrick returned to your bedroom, you were fluffing out his pillow on his side of the bed. He opened his mouth to speak, surely preparing to ask you about his moved belongings. Not wanting to deal with that conversation, you beat him to the punch with a simple, “C’mere.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, as he obediently climbed into bed with you. He looked at you expectantly, as if he was waiting for the next directions that would leave your mouth. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for you, you weren’t in the mood for words. 

You practically launched yourself at Patrick as you pulled him into a hug, tense PTA meeting, car ride, and dinner completely forgotten as you melted into his solid embrace. When the two of you slotted together like puzzle pieces, it was hard to remember why you were mad at him in the first place. 

Maybe you should talk about your argument, or how difficult it was for you to talk about your feelings, or how your husband’s outspokenness at meetings was beginning to take a toll on some of your friendships with other moms in the neighborhood—but none of that really mattered to you once you were back in Patrick’s arms. 

“I love you,” he told you as you buried your nose into your neck, soothed by his familiar scent and solid, comforting body. 

It was exactly what you needed to hear, a reassurance that at the end of the day, he would still be by your side, no matter the antics you’d put each other through. 

“I love you too.”

It wasn’t addressing the elephant in the room, but in that moment, it was enough.

[ramblingautisticman]

So, I haven't stopped thinking about this post I did talking about Logan being terrified of Wade going quiet because of the whole Stryker-sewing-his-mouth thing, so naturally I wrote a lil angsty thing for it.

(Also posted it to A03 here!)

(Also, @icarusredwings hope you enjoy, cause your little reblog of my post kind of inspired this lol!)

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

It's this constant fear. This constant nagging in the back of his head. Logan can't help it.

Normally, he's fine. Wade is practically talking every minute of every day, but on the rare occasions he doesn't, it catches him out.

Wade doesn't need to know that though. Wade doesn't need to be burdened with more of his own stupid hang ups than he already is. So what if some of his nightmares are more focused on Wade than they are his X-Men? No one but him needs to know that.

Logan just subtly makes sure Wade is fine, reminds himself that "Stryker is dead Peanut, trust me. You made sure of that." and moves on with his day. Mostly. Usually.

And okay, yeah, maybe he should tell Wade. Maybe Wade has a right to know about what happened to the 'other' him. Maybe Logan wants to tell him purely for his own stupid reasons. Maybe he wants Wade to know that Logan won't ever let anyone do that to him. Not this time.

He can't bring himself to tell him though- instead just keeps it buried inside like most of his other trauma- and it works for awhile.

Up until Wade gets a cold and loses his voice.

It's fine. It's totally fine. He is totally fine. Logan definitely hasn't been staring at Wade's mouth just to make sure it's still there. He definitely hasn't woken up terrified and sweating because of the nightmares happening more often. He definitely hasn't had a panic attack because Wade couldn't respond to him. No. Not him. Never.

He could deal with it. Wade was just sick. It was his stupid shitty healing factor working over time to stop the cancer, and as a result he had a cold. It was fine. People got colds. People lost there voice. It wasn't the same. Stryker hadn't done this. He still had his mouth. He could still make noise- hell- he could still speak! It was just alittle croaky and quiet.

Logan knew it really shouldn't get to him this much. After all this time, he should be able to move on from that stupid shit, right? He was over 200 years old, he was grown ass man, he shouldn't be hovering near Wade to make sure he is still breathing out of his mouth. He shouldn't be sitting so close to him on the couch just to hear the tiny mutters he makes. He shouldn't be glaring at his mouth just to make sure he still fucking has one.

He knows this Wade- the Wade that saved him- never went through the Stryker bullshit, and he knows that should comfort him. He knows that should fill him with relief, and in a way it does. It means he never had the one thing he holds so dear taken away from him. It just also means that- that could still happen- couldn't it?

Sure, Stryker was dead, but that didn't mean anything. Laura was still made in a lab and experimented on. Wade was still tortured and traumatised. Just because the guy that started all this shit wasn't around anymore, didn't mean it still didn't happen. Logan couldn't help but think that, any day, someone was going to come and take Wade away. Someone was going to hurt him in a way he wasn't sure he could fix.

Wade wouldn't be Wade without his mouth. He was called 'The Merc With A Mouth' for a reason. Wade's whole thing was talking. He loved making his family laugh and using stupid pet names and telling Logan all about the lore of his favourite show. He loved reading to Al and helping Laura with her drama class. He loved coming up with quick comments and snarky remarks while he killed assholes on missions. Wade just wouldn't be the same if he couldn't talk. Logan knew that all to well- and the though that one day, it might still happen? It just didn't sit right with him.

Even after Wade's healing factor fully kicked back in again. Even after Wade was back to rambling about cartoon dogs and his latest mission. Even after Wade had killed someone with a stupid joke. Even after he started making gross sexual remarks again.

Logan still woke up from nightmares terrified that the Wade he was laying next to had a scar tissue covered mouth. Logan still had panic attacks where the only thing to sooth him would be Wade's soft voice. Logan still subconsciously found himself staring at Wade's mouth- just incase. Logan still hated when Wade was quiet while watching a movie or eating something.

He wasn't sure he would ever get over it. Not fully. He would probably get better with the nightmares, grow used to them in a way he had with the others that frequented his mind, but he would still make sure. Double checking.

He would get used to Wade going quiet when he focused on a show or if he had a mouth full of food, but his eyes would still drift to his lips, making sure they were still there.

He would be okay with Wade sometimes loosing his voice, but it would still send a wave of panic over him. It would still make him lean in alittle closer so he could make sure Wade was breathing through his mouth or muttering something.

Wade would probably never know, Logan would probably never tell him, but he would get better. He would remember that this Wade hadn't been touched by Stryker faster when he woke up. He would settle quicker as Wade mutterd a quiet "I got you baby" as he wrapped an arm around him. He would find comfort in the fact that this Wade- his Wade- would never shut up.

No matter how hard anyone tried.

[quinton-reviews]

Hi Quinton!! I have been a HUGE fan of your stuff since a friend sent me the Tobuscus Fallen Titans (I used to watch him back in high school and was like "huh, wonder what happened to him after those allegations") and I gotta say, it is REALLY FUNNY every time my fiancé and I watch the iCarly videos again, because when you cover Gibby's stunt double breaking his ribs, you cut to a clip of The Official Podcast. I used to play D&D with one of the main dudes from the podcast, so when he talks during that clip I do a goddamn double take literally every time.

Anyways, I remember an original Patreon stretch goal being a Fallen Titans on Homestuck! I was really big into Homestuck in my early 20s, and was wondering if that's still on the table at some point? If not that's fine, I understand plans change! I just love Fallen Titans lol, the Fred episode and the Neil Cicierega unFallen Titans are some of my favorite videos of yours!

That's a real funny story!

So here's the rundown on the Homestuck video. When I first started making long videos, they were actually inspired by the relationship I had with other YouTubers at the time. I used to watch, like, H3H3 and Filthy Frank, etc; and I'd always see people obsessed with the versions of creators from the past. Like, "Oh 2015 H3 was the best" and "Oh 2012 Frank was peak." So I had this idea that it would be crazy if H3 posted, like, a video he spent a decade on and you got a new video with 2015 H3 10 years on. (I don't watch H3 anymore ironically)

So the original idea for the "long video" format was that it would be cool if, throughout a long, analysis/review/recap video, you kept noticing someone get older. Maybe my months, maybe by years. That's why I always like to get a haircut when I start one of these videos. If you scrub through and you see my hair get longer and messier as it goes on I think that adds something magical you can't fake.

So... My pitch to the Homestuck video was that it would be funny to work on it just once per year. To record one segment, say "That's it for 12 months", and then come back around to it. And when I was making the iCarly and Victorious videos I actually recorded a few minutes of the video! I think it was two segments in total. But then I had a bunch of personal stuff happen and my work drive has been much lower, so any "back burner" video hasn't gotten much attention since then.

Now that the iCarly mini-series is done with, I want to focus on some short one-off videos I can make before April. But once that's done with, I would REALLY love to start work on a few more long-term projects which will take months or years to finish. I think returning to work on the Homestuck video, to at least get the first 20-30 minutes done, would be a great idea this summer.

Now, if you want to know my pitch for that video, here it is. The video is not a recap of the creative history of the franchise. I do not get into drama, community hell, lawsuits, or other YouTubers. My idea is this: you always hear about Homestuck as an outsider but you never hear about the actual content. Most franchises on Earth I know something about, even and especially if I've never been interested in them. I can tell you a bunch of facts about wrestling and MLP and the Fast and the Furious simply through cultural osmosis and having friends who are into those things.

I can't tell you the plot of Homestuck, who the characters are, what the themes are, nothing. I've known a lot of people who were into Homestuck but nothing about the series!

So I thought it would thus be funny to make a video about a bunch of people who know nothing about the series starting from the beginning and giving their reactions, even if it's been years since it all started. I call this part of the video the "Homestuck Book Club." So the next step is me picking out the members (who all have to have no history with it) and making sort of a podcast setup. We'd then read and record every six months or so, IDK.

This is why the video has been stuck in production hell! Everyone who wants to work on it and messages me about it already knows the franchise. I don't want spoilers, I don't want people writing for the video who get it already. I want to capture the "what the fuck is this" energy of three dudes just getting in the middle of it.

Also, I think that I really like the theme of the video capturing our lives as they go by, capturing us aging and changing. If you came back from the future and told me this video comes out in five years, I'd say great. If you told me it comes out in ten years, I'd say awesome. Until then, the latest edit will always be on Patreon, even if you have to dig a little.

[lemonisntreal]

TONE DEAF :: Rosita and Norman <3

The first in a [hopefully] series of redesign + headcanon posts where I give you my take on a character for my AU

I'm grouping the two together because a] a lot of fluff headcanons I have, they share [because they're literally husband and wife]. And b] if I made an individual post for every single character, I... would go insane. So yeah. A bunch of characters are gonna get clumped together.

[FULL MASTERPOST HERE [yet to be made <3]]

HEADCANONS // BACKSTORY ⬇️

Me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic [also autistic]

Both of them are the same age, mid to late thirties.

In terms of general intelligence: Rosita has gifted IQ, while Norman is at genius level.

I know. I know Norman seems kinda dim in the movies. But guys [LMAO]. "I know it looks like there's nothing happening behind those eyes, but...... he can make entire computers!"

He's so smart yet so stupid. He's that kind of character. Like he can do all of this super impressive shit, and is super talented and can do math like BOOM done, but he's also kinda a "deer-in-the-headlights" when it comes to life [I LOVE HIM 👹]

Both of them worked hard and have their college degrees almost completely paid off at this point because of the scholarships they earned.

Rosita has a degree in engineering, Norman's a computer scientist.

They're both in STEM, it's just that Rosita likes to handle more of the mechanical aspects of things while Norman's better with the technical stuff, which I think is cute af.

Yin and Yang <3

This dynamic is just how they are too. How they act. Like for example, Rosita can be very to-the-point-

She's very much a problem solver and will get right to it once she understands what she's doing. Like yeah, she often takes a very methodical approach to it [see the scene where she's got all the papers laid out to try and learn to dance- very new territory for her], but once she learns, she gos all in. And EATS.

Norman's gotta have a plan before doing anything, meanwhile. He has a morning routine that can't be interrupted or else his whole day and mood will be thrown off. He reads through a recipe twice before even starting. That kind of stuff.

He's a lot more hesitant to even try.

A lot of people find Norman boring. But Rosita is enraptured by every word he says, she LOVES his long spiels about hyper-specific [and often mundane] things.

AAAA--

Norman is also a closeted DORK. He ran a tabletop games club in highschool with a couple other of his geeky ass friends [he's still into D&D to this day and has introduced Rosita to the game too]

[she's fun to play with, but super competitive. This goes for ANY game, actually, not just D&D. She'll kinda accidentally turn everything into a "contest" due to her inability to not do her very best] [it's mostly inspirational, not annoying, if that makes sense?]

I also wanna say Norman was in a weird amount of drama that he didn't want to be in at this time. Like all of his friends had falling-outs, and he was just always caught in the middle of it.

He's afraid of confrontation [UNLESS IT'S FOR HIS WIFE] [HE STANDS UP FOR HER RAHHHH] [this is gonna happen when I get to rewriting Sing 2, he's NOT just gonna take Crystal calling his WIFE "mommy pig"]

They're sooo "excuse me, he asked for no pickles"

Norman and Rosita technically met in high school, in Junior year when Norman first moved to Calatonia.

WHICH, he and his family did this because this was a point in time where laws having to do with the rights of animals were VERY flimsy, and Calatonia was one of the first and only safe places at the time-- for Pigs especially, actually.

The 3 Little Pigs is deadass CANON TO SING. So Pigs were/are actually a marginalized species in this universe.

[[during the warring period that I have yet to really talk about, they were often victims of the anarchy and poaching, so stigmas and insults around them still exist to this day]]

[[[[see Jimmy Crystal]]]]

So anyway, they "met" in high school- Norman totally crushed on Rosita from afar whenever he'd catch her in volleyball matches-

Rosita had a major tomboy phase throughout high school, slowly falling out of it during college [still only saves dresses and skirts for special occasions really]

[[Fun fact, Rosita is also sapiosexual [attracted to intelligence] [Roxanne Ritchi ahh] ]]

[[Norman is bi]]

They actually got introduced to eachother and had a proper arc when they went to the same college [which might've been a college in Redshore actually? But I'm not 100% sure on that headcanon. It would line up since Rosita's "wanted to perform in Redshore since she was a little kid" and Redshore is obviously a massive city with a lot of notoriety. Idk though- and it's not really that important to the story anyways]

Norman and Rosita had plans together- they were gonna make it big and live freely. Things were looking up with the lawmakers, who were finally repealing a bunch of nasty stuff that was put in place during the war times. And the two had hope that their dreams could actually be accomplished.

Rosita, who was originally gonna play it safe and become an engineer, was now thinking about attempting to become a performer [which Norman has supported since the beginning, he LOVES her singing, and often tells her that she's "better than some of the people I've heard on TV!"]

But. Life got in the way...

Present day, Norman works in Redshore at Crystal Enterprises. He's the head of some sort of organizational team- not really working on what he loves at this point.

And this is because of their children, who were a very sudden appearance in their lives [which is why we see so much struggle in the chaos at the beginning of the movie in this AU]

Rosita stopped everything, and Norman grabbed the first high-ish paying job he could, spending all his spare time on clocking in overtime hours.

The kids are all adopted, and there's only 6 now: Oldest Caspar [13], twin boys Mickey and Moe [11], middle child Kelly [9], little bro Freddy[8], and Zoey the sweet baby sister [6].

They became foster parents after the death of Rosita's sister [this hc is kinda subject to change, but this is the story rn. I'll specify on this later ☝️]

So Rosita's kinda put her life on hold for these babies. She's such a great mom to them, and they love her and Norman so much

But some of the older kids [Caspar specifically] are kinda in a rough phase since they feel like she resents them [which she doesn't], or that she isn't their "real mom" [which she IS]

This is like an E plot in the story, but definitely's gonna get at least a little bit of focus.

Rosita and Norman's marriage is falling apart just a little bit due to burnout, but it'll get better <3 [I can't do anything tragic to these two they're too sweet]

Norman snuggles up to Rosita in his sleep. Rosita starfishes LMAO

They wake up entangled. This is normal.

"Pig piles" are also a thing- there have been several nights where all six children "had nightmares" and so the family of 8 all slept in the same bed.

Norman has the best bond with the two girls out of all the children. They immediately latched onto him to be their level-headed dad.

Rosita can carry two kids at once easily, and often "relocates" them like this :>

She's probably the strongest out of everyone in the troupe if you don't count the potential Meena has. She solos.

She's constantly taking notes on everyone and everything around her. At the theater, you'll catch her tidying stuff up she spots out of the corner of her vision while you're having a conversation with her [she's still listening]. She knows everyones favorite foods, and allergies, and their preferences in things, etc. She's the most attentive and considerate out of all of them [the mom]

She may have a touch of OCD.

She gives the best hugs.

Rosita is also a FANTASTIC cook [not even a headcanon, I'm pretty sure the entire fandom agrees on this one] and often bakes stuff for her sweet-toothed children [and husband]

This is actually how she initially connected with Caspar, who refused to eat or speak at first when they were all placed with Rosita.

Cinnamon rolls.

Kelly will only eat the frosting off the top, and has ruined an entire pan before by doing this.

Rosita actually isn't the biggest fan of chocolate, small detail.

Idk why she just strikes me as not being an enjoyer.

Loves vanilla though. People are furious when she answers "vanilla" with zero hesitation to the chocolate vs vanilla question.

Norman is kinda a hopeless romantic, or at least really enjoys the aesthetic of it [in a sweet and not shallow way ofc], and goes all out every Valentine's Day: balloons, flowers, the works. He's learned that Rosita prefers strawberries over a box of chocolates, however. Has a tradition of getting a fruit basket for her <3

They also have a tradition from all the way back in college, where they go out to eat at specifically the in-universe equivalent of Olive Garden [which was the fanciest thing they could afford at the time] and eat a shared giant plate of spaghetti.

Norman loves coffee. Insists he likes it black but actually prefers a good 50:50 ratio of creamer and coffee.

Norman is also ☝️ lactose intolerant LMAO

[[or would be, if traditional milk was widely accessible/a thing. I say "lactose intolerant" but what I really mean is he's allergic to most milk substitutes- like nuts and soy [gives him tummy ache, not anaphylaxis] ]]

God, parenthesis are carrying me so hard rn.

Stopping here because I'm tired, but I could go ON about these two omg-

Normita forever rahhhh <3

[greenorangevioletgrass]

shorn the sheep (a.d. x t.d.)

Pairing: art donaldson x tashi donaldson

Summary: the origin story of Art's shorn sheep haircut.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: just family fluff really, art is a puppy but whats new, pre-canon (or in between canon timelines ig)

Notes: my first arttashi fic! Life is crazy but I was inspired enough to write this in two sittings sooooo enjoy! please comment, reblog, talk to me and tell me what you think about it! Happy reading!

**i do not have a taglist. Follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass andd turn on the notifications to be alerted for new fics and updates!**

Art Donaldson likes routines.

He eats the same breakfast every morning –eight eggs and a bowl of oatmeal. Takes the same shower stall in the locker room and does the same pre-match routine down to which shoe he puts on first. He has had the same team behind him for most of his career, from coaches and physios to his lawyers and publicists. He generally goes to the same guy for his haircut too, but he’s in Tokyo for the Japan Open. And while his outgrown curls are starting to piss him off, flying his barber halfway across the world just seems excessive.

Although… looking in the mirror now, he can’t help but wonder if he should’ve done that instead.

Maybe it’s the language barrier (which is more of Art’s fault for his general lack of knowledge in hair-related terms, because the hairdresser speaks English just fine), but what he asked for was definitely not what he got. Then again, maybe he wasn’t being super clear on what he means by ‘tidying it up a little.’

So with a polite straight-lined smile, Art nods and pays and ducks out into the busy Tokyo street. Out of courtesy (or so he convinces himself), he waits until he turns the corner to put his hoodie up over his head.

Ever the drama queen, he only takes it off when he enters the hotel suite, finding his wife sitting on the dining table.

“They fucked up my hair.”

Tashi looks up from her laptop, and the first thing she notices isn’t even the hair. It’s the same pout, same tone she normally sees in Lily at bedtime, which only makes her chortle.

“Goddammit…” Art groans. Is it even worse than he thinks? He pulls the hood back up and tugs at the string until the fabric scrunches around his face.

He turns around towards the bedroom, but Tashi stops him, grabbing his arm and turning him to face her. She loosens the tight strings on the hood, so she can see his new hair properly. Her French manicured nails cards through the short locks, scratching his scalp the way she knows he likes. Her eyebrows furrow in focus as she scrutinizes the length and texture in relation to his face.

“It looks fine to me,” she eventually decides, pushing the top part to the side towards his natural part.

“No it’s not. It’s too fucking short.” Art huffs, resting his forehead on her shoulder. 

Tashi hums, feeling the buzzed ends on the nape of his neck. She’s never felt it this short on him—she’s been there through it all; the mop when he was younger, the swoopy Prince Charming look he had just before this, and even that one year where he grew his hair out past his shoulders. She can definitely say that she doesn’t hate this one.  “It’s just shorter, is all.”

“Makes my ears look even bigger than they already are,” he murmurs into the skin of her shoulder, his annoyance dissipating into sulking petulance in the comfort of her scent and general embrace. 

“Maybe it’ll make you more aerodynamic, Dumbo.” Tashi fiddles his earlobe playfully.

He bites at her shoulder in gentle warning, earning a little laugh from her. “That’s not funny.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” She grins and shrugs. “Art—”

“Come on, this is serious.”

Tashi laughs incredulously. “What is?”

“I’m playing in my Uniqlo gear for the first time tomorrow, and the only thing people are gonna talk about is my hair.”

“I sure fucking hope they’re gonna talk about your game more than your new hair or clothes.”

There’s always a very subtle shift whenever Tashi is talking in coach mode. It doesn’t happen often, but it ticks her off whenever his attention strays off of what’s important. But Art pulls his head up and shoots her an unamused, almost defiant glare. He’s not having it.

He’s been trying not to stress out about it, but his new endorsement deal with Uniqlo is so well-covered (and for good reason—he signed a ten-year deal worth $30 million.) and wearing the brand for the first time on their home ground is a big deal. She knows that.

Art will gladly say it as often as he needs to (and he feels like he doesn’t say it often enough), but he loves Tashi. Her beauty is a no-brainer, but above all, he loves her tenacity and efficiency in her work. It’s why he listens to her, and it’s why he’s been playing better than ever since she joined his side.

Tashi sighs a little, realizing that maybe he doesn’t need a coach right now. “And look, it fits into the clean-cut, preppy aesthetics you got. I don’t see how this can be bad press for Uniqlo, either.”

She does so much for him —eats, lives, and breathes him— and sometimes he feels bad for asking. But he eats, lives, and breathes her just as much as she does, and he craves her constantly. Her firm chides, her sharp wit, her soft side, her fury… Most of the time, he needs a combination of at least two of them, even though he doesn’t know how to ask for it.

“Can we like… not make this about work?”

He doesn’t need to. She knows. 

Tashi softens, rubbing his arms up and down as he pulls her closer. “Baby… it looks good on you.”

Art rolls his eyes skeptically. He can’t help but feel like she needs to say that now.

“It really does! What do you want me to say?” She chuckles, nuzzling his face with her nose. “Hey. You know I’ll be the first one to tell you if it looks stupid, right?”

Art sighs. Tashi has never been very generous with compliments, and he actually likes that about her. She knows how to really make it count. “I know, but—”

“But it doesn’t. You actually look really good. And I… I like that I can see you better this way.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have hair flopping over your eyes like a sheepdog anymore.”

Art gives her a playful smack in the butt, but at least he’s smiling now. And despite pushing him physically and mentally for a living, Tashi likes making him smile.

“But you like it?”

Her hand returns to his head, getting the hang of caressing it. “Baby, it’s your hair.” 

Art relaxes into her touch. He’s gone beyond seeking validation, and has fully entered clingy territory at this time. “Yeah, but you’re gonna be looking at it all the time,” he pouts dramatically. “I don’t want you to hate it.”

“I already told you. I like it.” Tashi cups his face, her thumb drawing faint circles on his cheek. The hair is cropped short enough that it doesn’t even curl anymore on the crown. But the patch of brown in his blue eyes is out in plain sight. The line of his nose is knife-sharp, and she can’t help but remember how it parts her thighs right open. “I like looking at your face like this.”

Art’s mouth quirks to the right. He likes coaxing sweet nothings out of her like no other. “So you just like my face?”

Tashi bites the inside of her left cheek. “I do. I like your face.”

Art pulls her into a sweet kiss, and Tashi happily meets him halfway. He wonders if the butterflies would ever cease one day, but until then, he’s gonna relish in it entirely. Wholeheartedly. Selfishly.

Until…

“Daddy, you’re back!” the unmistakable squeal of their 2-year-old cuts through the quiet, followed by the pitter-patter of her little feet.

Art reluctantly lets go of his wife in exchange for their daughter, throwing the former a fond, knowing look. “Hey, Lilybug!” He scoops her tiny frame up into his arms and peppers kisses all over her cute face.

Lily giggles, arms flailing and pushing him around until Art lets up. It’s only then that the little girl manages a good look at him. She gasps. “Daddy, your hair!”

Art’s heart stops. He never thought a toddler’s opinion would mean so much to him, but he plasters a faux-oblivious look for her. “What about my hair, baby?”

“It’s so… little!”

Tashi chuckles. And so does Art, although he does so in surprise. Of all the adjectives in the English language (that they’ve taught Lily anyway), he didn’t expect it to be little. But in a way, he’s glad. It takes the edge off a little.

“Do you like it, though?” Art turns his head side-to-side and lets Lily assess him, and his heart stutters a little.

Lily has a habit of picking up Tashi’s brutal honesty. Truth be told, she is the spitting image of her mother. She tilts her head the same way, sports the same thoughtful pout too. He may have been off the hook with Tashi, but it would be stupid to have his confidence crushed by the miniature version of her.

Eventually, though, Lily grins and nods. Art breathes out a sigh of relief, while Tashi looks at him like, see?

Lily puts her tiny hands on Art’s cheeks the same way her mother does, fingers flicking on her father’s earlobes. She giggles again. “Daddy looks like my sippy cup.”

Tashi laughs out loud this time. Art is not amused.

But he’ll take it. He scowls playfully and makes a face, pretending to be the sippy cup in question, eliciting more laughter from his girls.

[a-doubleh-x]

Why I like Charlastor

The other day I noticed there was some negativity in the Charlastor tag, including antis and people feeling the need to defend against antis, so I thought I might as well take a step back and just write candidly about why I like the ship.

I only got into Hazbin in October of last year, but already it has inspired me a lot to write and fantazise about it. Like most people, I started with the classic "they look cute together", but as I kept looking I couldn't help but think there was something else to these two than first met the eye.

For starters, I love Pollyanas! I think they get a bad rep for being naive, but I just appreciate an optimist like Charlie who just wants to make people around her happy because it makes her happy. I also like bad boys 😳 I'm a pretty heteronormative guy, so I haven't had a big chance to explore that part of myself yet, but I do like the danger and excitement someone like Alastor brings to the table.

I will admit when I started writing Charlastor I felt like I was handling dynomite. It's a lil scary to ship a boundless altruist with a manipulative sociopath, but bear with me.

I think each of them has something the other needs. I think Charlie needs someone to challenge her, someone to steer her in the right direction while she's mostly isolated. At the start of the series, practically nobody but Vaggie takes her seriously, and Alastor is no exception. He mocks her, teases her, but she still listens and I think it's because somewhere deep down she understands there's something he's trting to communicate in his annoying, but curious way.

Of course, I also love the fanon Charlie who's down bad for Alastor, and even if that Charlie is a little naive, I think it's also sweet and she can use some indulgence while most people treat her like a child.

On the other hand, when it comes to Alastor, this is a bit of a theory on my part, but I think he's secretely lonely. He has friends, certainly, like Rosie and Mimzy, but they're not good enough friends to live together with him. They don't seem to be able to save him from "pure, absolute boredom". But Charlie, for some reason can, even though she's a stranger at the beginning when Alastor chooses to move into the Hotel.

Alastor is not as much of a cynic as someone who chooses to see things in a perspective that benefits him. He doesn't think redeeming sinner is "hopeless", but "hilarious" instead, which has interesting implications to me. That's why he chooses to hover around Charlie, not because he thinks she's lame, rather because he thinks she's silly. She makes him laugh. Which I think is kind of how Alastor sees "love".

And then you have fanon Alastor who, depending on the writer, is either a horny animal, a wisecrack edgelord or a soft boy who's mean to everyone but Charlie XD I like several of those interpretations, but I kinda prefer mine just out of personal taste. I think the best part about Alastor is that he doesn't *care* what anyone thinks of him and always does what he wants, even at the expense of other people, which I find pretty enviable.

They're kinda both outcasts in their own ways. Charlie by being unable to fit in and Alastor being unwilling to compromise. But they don't judge each other. He supports her in his own weird way and she houses him and is delighted of him in general, which is tasty food for his ego. I do wonder why Alastor is interested in Charlie, both in canon and in a fandom vacuum.

There's some cool potential for drama there, but also growth and healing, in my opinion. Personally, I think Alastor doesn't want to actually *hurt* Charlie, but he may hurt those around her, which will be a moment to start settling compromises if Charlie puts her foot down.

That haz bin my review so far! I'm honestly pretty grateful for Vivziepop for all of the work she's done so far, I know directing, animating and writing two shows over the course of 5 year or so ain't easy. I'm also grateful to the fandom who shares their thoughts and vision, which calms the terrible voices I started hearing in my head since I bought this weird old radio.

I'm in the middle of a break, but if you're interested in my fanfics I'll get back to writing very soon. Cheers! 🌈❤🦌

[phenomenalgirl9]

Boyfriend: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

The more I get to know you, Can't tell the feelings I feel, Sometimes it doesn't feel so right.

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

“Air time in 5 mins” Pd-nim called out and you made sure all the cameras were in place in the monitor and showed a Thumbs up.

“Rolling” you said. “Enter TxT in 3… 2… 1” and as soon as you said the lights revolved and the 5 cheerful boys entered the studio.

“Welcome to our new Episode of Flower Village” Pd-nim said and they cheered and introduced themselves. A pair of Fox-like sharp brown eyes found yours from the other side of the camera and a smile came to your lips. As Pd-nim queued you to start the interview.

The interview went on “…That’s a cute concept. I wonder where Yeonjun-ssi finds his inspiration from?” you read from your script. You tried your best to not get distracted by his eyes and followed it peril-lessly.

He smiled, almost a flirty smirk, at the camera but if you didn’t know you’d think his smirk was directed towards you. “I draw experiences from the world, around me dramas and stories, people even” he said and as if on you noticed Taehyun and Beomgyu smile towards you and mumbling something to each other and chuckling. A blush rushed onto your cheek and you didn’t look up for the rest of the interview, not like anyone would care who’s behind the camera anyway.

“Pd-nim, Y/n Pd-nim” You heard your name being called and you turned around to find Yeonjun rushing towards you. This man will be the death of you, you thought. “Hello Yeonjun-ssi” you greeted bowing a little (To maintain etiquette mostly). “How have you been? You look tired” he stated, more that asking “I should be asking you that, You’re the one having a comeback and a tour followed by it” you said. “Do I look tired?” he said his eyes mischievous, feigning surprise as he touched his cheek and fake-frowned. “I made sure to complete my beauty sleep, for today” he added. Your mind raced at the way he emphasised on today, did he mean what you were thinking, hoping he means?

“Ah, No no that’s not how I meant it” you said and were about to explain further but your boss called you, saving you from further embarrassment and excused yourself.

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

You were almost done with work and were about to leave when your coworker from the editing desk called you.

“Do you think I should use this feed or this?” he asked and you helped him out. “Damn that look surely wasn’t for the camera” he mumbled “you were taking the interview, right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. “It was for the camera, why else?” you said and were about to leave when you heard him say. “Yeah, lie to yourself”

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

It was another exciting day as your team was appointed to conducted the next Run Jin. Having worked with BTS many times before you were excited to meet Jin again after a long time.

“Y/n-ah” Jin cheered and shook hands with you “Look at you, you’re a Pd now. Wah” he added. You smiled at how he’s still so enthusiastic like old days. The whole day was fun.

“Yeonjun is literally fishing aspects to approach you. Why don’t you put the boy out of his misery?” the old man said. “what do you mean Pd-nim” you said averting your eyes towards Yeonjun who was already looking at you and smiled. “I’m old” You stopped the urge to say I know “I can read the way a person looks at someone and I think I see it clear in both your eyes” he noted with a smile on his lips. “Don’t be worry about other things so much, live in the moment” he added and winked and left.

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

On the other side of the room Jin to Yeonjun-

“How many years are you gonna waste just looking at her?”

“Huh?” Yeonjun looked at Jin, confused. “We can all see the way you look at her and she at you” he said. “I’ve looked at her since the day I first saw her, have looked at her all this time yet I think somethings stopping her, Duty? Public Opinion? She almost knocked out a light and was about to fall when luckily, I held her hand and stopped the accident-”

“And saved the day” you said having heard enough “It was a harrowing day, probably one of my first shoots” I chuckled and as if on queue Jin left. Not before winking and pointing at the two of you. “I was very nervous that day” Yeonjun said, “I felt relieved seeing you”  

“Seeing me knock down the lights?” you joked. “No, to know I wasn’t the only one. And that’s only grown” He added.

“Into?” You asked looking into his Sharp brown eyes. “Something I’d like to see more of” he said and smiled.

“Coffee?” you asked.

“That could be a nice start” he said and smiled.

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

So, why you looking at me like I'm your Boyfriend, boyfriend

Masterlist

[berberriescorner]

“Echoes of Redemption”

Characters: Jay Halstead x Black!Reader.

Summary: After a tumultuous relationship marked by Jay Halstead's absences and affairs, you begin to rebuild your life.

Warnings: A smidge of profanity, a bit of humor, angst, anger, fluff, and a lil’ smut👀😆.

Word Count: 5,000+.

A/N: This is my first Halstead fix, but hopefully you lovelies will love it🩵.

Inspired By🩵:

Adam cradled your work bag and purse in one hand, his broad shoulders carrying the weight of your exhaustion. His free hand pressed the down button for the elevator, the soft ping of the mechanism cutting through the silence. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes for a brief moment, letting the weariness wash over you.

“Tired?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Exhausted. I could sleep for days,” you responded, the fatigue squinting your eyes. A massive yawn escaped your lips as the elevator doors slid open. You leaned against the wall for support, stifling another yawn. “Sorry,” you murmured.

“It’s all good. I hope you can get some rest once you’re home,” he said, as his voice comforted your frazzled nerves.

“Thanks, Adam. For everything. You've all been so supportive. Even if it's a bit awkward.”

The elevator dinged, and Adam gestured for you to step out first. He spotted a nearby vending machine and asked, “Did you eat today?”

Not waiting for your answer, he walked over to the whirring machine and purchased a bottle of water and a bag of smart popcorn. You sank onto a bench, grateful for the brief respite. Adam returned, popping open the snack and handing you the bag and the beverage. The two of you continued on your journey to the parking lot.

“Maybe this can give you a bit of energy.”

“Adam, you don't have to make such a fuss. You, Kim, Kevin, and Voight have already done enough. I can't believe she made a time chart so everyone can take turns escorting me to these appointments. She even has poor Dante in on it. That baby has his hands full taking care of himself. Bless his heart.”

“Are you kidding me? You're family. That’s what you do for loved ones,” he assured you, his eyes steady and sincere.

“Is this not awkward for you guys? Hailey’s your friend too,” you grudgingly admitted.

“Yes, but we knew you first. We're not going to abandon years of friendship over drama. We support her just as we do you. J—”

“Adam, please don't. The thought of him is even more stressful. Thanks for the snack. I can finish this in the car. I'm ready to get home to my comfy bed. It's been a long day.”

You caught a flicker of emotion in Adam's eyes, but he quickly masked it. Clearing his throat, he agreed, “You’re right. Let's get you home. Kim’s making me and Mak’s favorite dinner tonight,” he bragged, trying to lighten the mood.

“You bring baby girl next time. I miss her cute wittle face,” you demanded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The walk to the exit grew quiet and tense. You glanced at Adam out of the corner of your eye.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah. Just thinking about a case,” he lied, his voice unconvincing.

As he opened the door, you started to press about the case. But your words caught in your throat at the sight of a figure standing across the parking lot. Your gaze locked onto the face, shock coursing through you. You spun around, the question about the case forgotten. "Tell me you didn't. What is he doing here?"

Adam scratched the back of his neck, looking apologetic. “Sorry, sis. The moment Hailey found out, she said he deserved to know. It was either she’d tell him, or Kevin and I. Kim was against it all. Voight was neutral.”

“I told you I would tell him on my own time!”

“When would that have been? You've been putting it off for three months now,” Adam argued.

“You don't get it. None of you know the entirety of the situation. I'm not just some home-wrecking whore. If anything, my home was the one that took the damage. You might want to remind Hailey of that, given that she's out here giving an ultimatum based on my life.”

Your gaze fixated on the once-sparkling eyes that had the power to make your heart flutter. Now, those same eyes left your heart in ruins, a painful reminder of what was lost.

“Why are you here? Shouldn't you be somewhere across an ocean or something?”

Jay walked up slowly like he was approaching a wounded animal. He stood a few inches away from you, hands buried in his pockets, looking down. “I just want to talk,” he begged.

“Now you want to have a conversation? Why, Jay? Why are you here? You made your choice.”

“Did I make my choice?”

“Walking—sorry, running—away was a choice. Was it not?”

His eyes locked with yours as he pleaded, “I know you hate me, but please, just one conversation? I took leave as soon as I found out.”

“Are you supposed to get brownie points for that,” you snapped.

“Sweetheart—”

“You don't get to call me that,” you growled.

Adam’s hand rested on your shoulder, the turmoil between two of his dearest friends cutting deep. It reminded him of the trying times he and Kim had gone through. He held out hope that you two would find some resolve.

“You know this exchange needs to happen. Maybe you'll find clarity,” Adam said, looking you in the eyes. “I'm sure he’s come to his senses over the past couple of months. Surely he realizes he could have handled the situation better and that he was being stupid.”

"Thanks, Adam. That's incredibly helpful," Jay retorted with a sarcastic edge.

Ruzek shot him a glare. “As I was saying, this needs to happen. Do me a favor. Let him drive you home. Give him however much time you want to explain himself. Discuss the most important things. Then you can either reconcile or tell him to go to hell.”

Jay threw his hands in the air. Adam cut his eyes to him. “Being my bro doesn't give you a pass. I'm going to call you on your shit. You know that.”

“Reconcile? You must have confused me with Hailey.”

“Damn it, sis.”

“Fine,” you snarled, turning to head toward Jay's truck.

“Thanks! Love you,” Ruzek shouted as you flipped them both off.

Adam shoved your belongings into Jay’s chest. His voice dropped into a menacing, judgemental tone. “Glad to have you back, brother. Try not to leave things as messed up as you did the last time. When are you going to stop screwing her over and flipping her life upside down? You better make this right.”

“I will make it right with everyone involved.”

“No, just her. You've got to choose, and it needs to be her.”

“Who says I hadn't already tried to do that?”

“Yeah, and then you changed your mind.”

“That's not what I meant to do. You know what, Ruzek? I know I screwed up. Can we pause this lecture so I can try and rectify my mistakes?”

Adam paused for emphasis. He needed Jay to listen to the advice he was about to give, to let it sink in truly.

"You messed up, Halstead," Adam said, his voice gruff but laced with concern. "But you gotta fight for her. Show her you mean it this time." Jay clenched his jaw, the truth of Adam's words scraping at his already sore conscience.

“I hear you, brother. Truly. I’ve been stupid far too long, and it’s time I get my life in order. I just–needed to get away. To finish something I’d run from for far too long. I took that time away to figure out how to stop sabotaging the things and people I love most.

Adam nodded his head before laying into him once more, “I swear to God, Jay Halstead, if you mess this up again—if you don't manage to pull your head out of your ass—Kevin and I are going to knock you out cold.”

“It sure is good to be home,” Jay sighed, walking toward the passenger door. He unlocked it and helped you, vertically challenged as you were, into the monstrous truck.

The minute your butt hit the seat, you snatched away from him. He slid into the driver's seat, reaching across to buckle your seatbelt as he had in the past. He jumped back as you slapped his hand away.

“I’ve got it. Just drive.”

Half the drive to your apartment was filled with tense silence. Jay couldn't take it any longer. He cleared his throat, attempting to engage in conversation.

“How have you been? You look as beautiful as ever.”

Your head snapped to the side as if you had been struck. Jay kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel your piercing glare.

“Look, I'm trying not to raise my blood pressure these days. Do me a favor and keep the stupid ass questions to a minimum,” you hissed.

“Jesus, Y/N. No matter what I say, it’s going to upset you. I admit it’s well-deserved, but can't we be civil until we at least get to the house?”

“Civil? Are you trying to gaslight me right now? You don't deserve civility. How about we ride in silence? Nothing I say to you is going to be nice, Jay.”

“Silence it is.”

The sight of your driveway eased the tension in Jay's shoulders. He shut off the engine, the rumble fading into the quiet hum of the neighborhood. Stepping out of the dusty truck, his legs ached from hours on the road, but he glided to your passenger door.

"Hey there," he greeted with a hint of breathlessness in his voice. He started to reach out, but you mumbled a quick "thanks" as you slid out and brushed past him, already digging in your purse for your keys.

Jay lingered on the curb briefly, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before the familiar puppy-dog eyes returned. You rolled your eyes playfully, the sound masking the growing unease in your stomach. "Alright, alright. I'll hear you out," you conceded, finally finding your keys. "But I swear if you—"

Your playful threat was cut short by the sudden seriousness in Jay's voice. He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he placed the keys inside your pants pocket. "I've got it," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the worn metal in his hand. He chewed his lip nervously a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"Why keep my spare key?" you asked, suspicion evident.

Jay hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly. When he met your gaze again, his eyes were a storm of hidden emotions. Sadness mingled with something deeper, something you couldn't quite place. "I wasn't planning to leave," he admitted, his voice thick with regret. "Not for good, that is."

You sighed, the energy draining from your body like air from a punctured balloon. The weight of his words settled on you, heavy and unspoken. "Right," you said, your voice flat. "Just unlock the door, Jay. My feet are killing me."

As Jay unlocked the door and pushed it open, you stepped inside and felt a wave of relief wash over you. The familiar comfort of home was opposite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. You kicked off your shoes and trudged towards the living room, dropping onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Jay followed, lingering in the doorway as if unsure whether to stand or join you.

You looked up at him, the silence between you charged with unresolved tension. "You can sit, Jay. I won't bite your head off. I'll try not to that is."

He nodded and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, his posture rigid. "Thanks."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling around you like a heavy blanket. Finally, Jay broke the silence. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But I need you to know that I never meant for things to get this bad. Before I get into all of that. I have to ask. It’s a stupid question, and I probably already know the answer. Why didn't you respond to any of my letters? Did you read any of them?”

“No.”

“Not even the emails or texts?”

“Nope,” you responded, emphasizing the letter p.

“If you had read them. You would've known that I tried to explain myself even if they were selfish reasons. Part of you may have understood why I did what I did.”

“Well, I didn't, Jay. You left without even saying goodbye. You didn't deserve another moment of my time. Be grateful you're getting it now.” You glanced at him, your expression guarded. "Why did you come back, Jay? Really?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "Because I found out you're pregnant."

Emotions crashed over you all at once. "So that's it? They tell you I'm pregnant and you come running back?"

"It's not just about the baby," he insisted. "I want to be here for you, for us. I realized that running away was a mistake. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just being a coward. I want to make things right, if you'll let me."

"Make things right?" you echoed, a hint of bitterness in your voice. "You think you can just come back and fix everything with a few words? Every time we've faced an obstacle, you've chosen everything over me. Your career, your fleeting moment of weakness for Hailey, even leaving to return to the army. How do I know this time will be different?"

Memories of your tumultuous past resurfaced. You and Jay had started dating years ago, your connection was instant and intense. Things got serious quickly, but Jay's fear of commitment led him to break things off and pursue a relationship with Erin Lindsay. When Erin left for an FBI job, Jay came running back to you, realizing he'd only gotten involved with her as a means to run from commitment as always.

You took him back, and things got serious again. Only that time his career became increasingly dangerous, and your constant fear for his safety caused a rift. He chose his job over you, and the two of you broke up. That time it hadn't hurt as much. You had no right to force him to choose between a career and the woman he loved. You took it as a sign that perhaps you just needed time apart.

After some time, you started to slowly rebuild your relationship, only for Jay to start having feelings for Hailey Upton. Though you know the responsibility lay mostly in your man. You still felt a way about Hailey deciding to pursue him anyway. She knew the two of you were amid reconciliation. Even with that knowledge, she still initiated the kiss and confession of attraction that confused Jay.

You argued over his feelings for the both of you and eventually, you broke up. Jay pursued things with Hailey, and while at first, it was just hooking up, things eventually got serious. Your weakness for him led to the two of you still sleeping together, but when Hailey discovered the two of you were still involved. Suddenly she wanted a committed relationship, Jay chose her. They got married (out of Jay’s perverse sense of loyalty and obligation to the team), and you tried to move on. But Jay's jealousy and selfish attempts to sabotage your relationships made it clear he was still not over you.

He soon realized he made a mistake getting involved with Hailey. You refused to take him back until he was a single man, and after a quick divorce, Jay struggled with wanting to serve a bigger purpose. It was as if he was in the midst of an early midlife crisis. Just as you two had started to rekindle your romance and rebuild, he up and left to rejoin the army.

As you were trying to pick up the broken pieces of your heart, you discovered the pregnancy. Jay found out from your friends and returned home to explain himself, determined to make things right this time. The touch of his fingers gliding across your cheek brought you back to the present. You tilted back from his touch.

“That's what you always do, Jay,” you began, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “Run and leave me to deal with the fallout of broken promises and heartbreak. At every turn, you've chosen everyone, everything else, over me. Erin. Your job. Marrying Hailey! Not to mention she's not the first wife, but the second. What is it three times a charm? You’ve already knocked me up. Now all you gotta do is marry me and run. Just like you always do. Hell, you chose the military over me, Jay! So tell me, why? Why should I let you back in and risk you breaking this baby’s heart in the future? Why do you always run, Jay?”

His expression softened, his eyes filled with regret as he listened to your words. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. The pads of his thumbs swiped at the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Because I was scared, honey,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of messing things up, of not being good enough for you. But I realize now that running away only made things worse, that I can’t keep hiding from my mistakes. I want to be here for you, for our child. I want to make things right, to be the man you deserve.”

Jay met your gaze, his resolve hardening. "No more running," he vowed silently. The fear of losing you forever was a terrifying prospect, but it paled in comparison to the regret of never trying at all. He had to face his demons and fight for the future he longed for.

More tears fell as you looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity. And there, amidst the pain and regret, you saw it – a glimmer of hope, a flicker of determination.

The weight of your history hung in the air as you sat together, the past intertwining with the present. Jay reached out, his hand gently covering yours. “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ve hurt you more than I can ever make up for. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to be a part of your life, and our child’s life, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m tired of being hurt, Jay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But if you’re willing to try, if you’re willing to fight for us, then maybe... just maybe, we can find a way to make this work.”

Jay nodded, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes, sweetheart. I love you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the pang of regret. “It’s not going to be easy, Jay. We have a lot to work through. But I want to believe that you’ve changed, that you’re here for the right reasons.”

“I am,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve chosen wrong in the past, but I’m choosing you now. I’m choosing us.”

“Okay,” you said, your voice steady. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

Jay nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “One step at a time.”

As you sat together, the first glimmers of hope began to shine through the darkness. It was a long road ahead, but with determination and love, you knew you could face whatever challenges came your way, together.

But there was something Jay had kept from you, something he had been working on while he was away. As you looked into his eyes, you saw a hint of hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” he began, his voice hesitant. “While I was deployed, I... I started talking to a therapist.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in surprise, a million questions flooding your mind. “A therapist? Did something happen while you were away? Are you okay,” you rambled as your mind raced with a thousand different scenarios.

Jay took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Honey. Honey, relax. I'm not hurt. I realized that I needed help and that I couldn’t keep running from my problems. I needed to confront my past, to understand why I kept making the same mistakes over and over again.”

“And did it help?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. “Yeah, it did. I learned a lot about myself, about the things that drove me to make those mistakes. And I made a promise to myself – and you – that I would come back a better man, that I would do whatever it takes to make things right. I'm going to continue my journey with therapy. After all the pain I've caused. I think it wouldn't hurt to do couples counseling. Only if that's something you're interested in pursuing.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, a mixture of relief and gratitude flooding your heart. “I'd like that. Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Jay reached out, gently wiping away your tears. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you and I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. The weight of the past slowly began to lift, replaced by a sense of hope for the future. It wouldn’t be easy, you knew, but with determination and love, you were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, together.

Things grew quiet as the two of you looked longingly at one another. The faintest gasp slipped and you whispered, “Jay, you can't look at me like that.”

His voice low and husky, he responded, “How am I looking at you, sweetheart? I haven't seen or held you in quite some time. Admittedly, I'm the one to blame for that, but there isn't any other way I could look at you right now.”

“Please,” you begged. “Damn it, Jay. Look at me like I disgust you. Just, anything but the way you're staring at me now.”

“You want me to look at you with disgust,” he questioned, already shaking his head no. “That's not possible, honey.”

“Listen to me, Jay Halstead. I'm very pregnant and hormonal right now. I need you to be the bigger person and say that what I'm thinking is a bad idea. You need to be strong for both of us. Go home, Jay. If you don’t, we may give in to temptation. Why did you have to wear that damn uniform?”

He gave you a megawatt smile, slightly nibbling at his lips as if he was embarrassed by your compliment.

“Why, Mr. Halstead, are you blushing,” you questioningly teased.

N-No,” he spluttered.

A brief silence was followed by laughter. Once it ceased, Jay spoke in a soft, warm voice, “To answer your question. This is home, sweetheart. It is in my heart.”

And then, in a moment of weakness, as the pregnancy hormones surged through your body and desire flared between you, you found yourselves giving in to the longing that had been simmering beneath the surface. In each other’s arms, you found solace, comfort, and a renewed sense of hope for the future.

Jay didn't want to ruin things, but if something were to happen. He'd not only need consent and for you to set things in motion. He'd been given a chance to make things right. Jay wouldn't risk it all by making you believe this was the only reason he had come to talk.

“Don’t make me regret this, Jay.”

Before he could answer, you surged onto his lap, kissing him with all the pent-up passion you could muster. You both sighed and moaned as your lips met. Pulling away briefly, you pressed yourself into him. "There's no time for foreplay," you murmured.

Jay groaned as his eyes snapped closed. He grabbed hold of your waist, anchoring you to his lap. Slowly, his eyes peeled open. They were filled with hunger and uncertainty. “Are you sure, honey? I'd understand if you wanted to wait.”

Your hand trailed up his back, sending shivers down his spine as it glided sensuously up his neck and into his hair. Your fingers tangled gently in his light brown locks, tugging playfully. Your other hand encircled his throat in a delicate caress, “That depends. How badly do you miss me riding your thick, veiny, co-.”

Jay's growl silenced you abruptly, shattering his composure.“Ever the little tempting brat. Aren't you, sweet girl?”

In a feverish rush, you tore at each other's clothes. Pushing Jay onto the sofa, you straddled him, reclaiming your dominance. You descended slowly, savoring the sensation. Your pants joined his symphony of groans as you moved your hips. Alternating between rocking and moving in a circular motion. Pleasure washed over you both, leaving Jay breathless.

“F-fuck. Baby, if you squeeze me any tighter, this won’t last long.”

Being the petty brat you are. You allowed your muscles to contract around him again. Jay couldn't help but shake his head from side to side and chuckle. His eyes found yours, turning dark as they simmered with heat. Jay’s hand collided with your soft, ample, flesh. He reveled in the half moan, half whine it pulled from your lips.

His hands pawed at your hips possessively forcing you up to his tip before quickly pulling you back down. You both cried out and you begged him to do it again. Jay repeated the motion as he freed one hand to toy and pinch at your bundle of nerves. With every pinch and circle of his fingers, you climbed higher. The closer you came to falling over the edge the more your walls gripped his flesh.

“Let go for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me, sweet girl? Hmm? Yes, you can. Can't you, baby? Come for me, sweetheart. Soak me and this damn couch just like I know you can.”

Jay slammed you down one final time locking you into place as he circled your nub. Your face buried into his neck as violent shakes paired with sobs. You ground against his lap riding out the orgasm. Jay held you close as he left kisses against the side of your head. He talked you down from an intense orgasm. “You’re okay, honey. You're okay. You did so good for me.”

He tensed hearing sniffles muffle into the side of his neck. “Baby? Are you okay?”

“Promise you won't leave me again, Jay.”

He lifted your head, his eyes filled with reassurance. “I promise, baby. Never again. Okay?”

You nodded in agreement as he wiped your face. He stole a quick kiss before pulling you back against him to cuddle again.

“Jay,” your question muffled against his neck again.

“Yes, baby-.”

His response caught in his throat as you clamped down on him once more. Your lips trailed from the side of his neck up to his ear. You playfully bit his ear and moaned, “You didn’t get to come.”

“Keep doing that and it won't take long, sweetheart,” he groaned.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you stirred in Jay's embrace. The events of the previous night played like a dream in your mind, a mixture of vulnerability, longing, and desire. You glanced at Jay, still sleeping peacefully beside you, and couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your shared moment of weakness, you couldn't shake the feeling of hope that filled your heart. Despite the challenges and uncertainties that lay ahead, you knew that you and Jay would face them together, united in love and determination.

With a soft smile, you pressed a gentle kiss to Jay's lips, feeling a surge of warmth and affection between you. The kiss pulled Jay from his slumber. Blinking a few times to clear the sleep from his vision, he rubbed at your small but noticeable bump.

“Oh, I see put me back to sleep so you can nap some more,” you teased. “Fine by me, Halstead.” Jay smirked and continued rubbing in circular motions. Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, there was a loud knock on the door, causing you both to jump.

Jay chuckled, planting a kiss on your forehead before pulling away. "I'll go see who it is."

As he made his way to the door, you heard familiar voices on the other side. "Come on, man. We gotta make sure Jay's still in one piece," Adam's voice rang out.

"Yeah, and see if they've reconciled yet," Kevin chimed in.

With a grin, Jay swung open the door to reveal Adam and Kevin standing on the doorstep, wearing matching grins and teasing expressions.

"Hey there, lovebirds. Just making sure Jay survived the night," Adam quipped.

Jay rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the concern, guys."

Kevin nudged Adam with a smirk. "Did y’all kiss and make up, or do we need to start planning your escape route? Blink twice if you need help bro."

You couldn't help but laugh at their antics, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "We're working on it, okay? Now, if you don't mind, we were kind of in the middle of something."

Adam and Kevin exchanged a knowing look before raising their hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. We'll leave you two lovebirds to it. But just remember, we're always here if you need a referee," Adam teased, earning a playful swat from Jay. Kim told me to say she expects a full run down over lunch tomorrow. She kept saying she wanted all the tea. What does that even mean?”

Kevin shook his head in disappointment. “Come on big dog. I'll have to teach you some new lingo on the way back to the precinct. Jay? Voight said you always have a job where he's concerned. Before you decline. Hailey is joining the FBI,” he finished with a wink toward you.

As they turned to leave, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the friends who always knew how to lighten the mood, even in the most awkward situations. As you snuggled back into Jay's arms, you felt a surge of passion coursing through your veins, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between you since the moment you first met.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Jay turned to you, his gaze filled with desire. "Well, that was unexpected," he whispered, his voice husky with longing.

You couldn't help but smile at the intensity of his gaze, feeling a rush of heat spreading through your body at the thought of being so close to him again. "Unexpected, but not unwelcome," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

As Jay leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, you melted into his embrace, the passion between you igniting like wildfire. In that moment, all the doubts and uncertainties melted away, leaving only the burning desire that had brought you back together.

“I’m insatiable, sorry.”

“No need to apologize. That makes two of us, sweetheart,” he responded, brushing curls from your face. His heart warmed that he was able to hold you this way. Jay had missed the feel of your skin and moving the hair from your vision. “You might want to put your bonnet on this time. I don’t want to get in trouble for ruining your hair, love.”

“Smart man, Mr. Halstead,” you giggled, leaving feathery kisses along his jaw.

And as the passion between you intensified, you couldn't help but joke, "Maybe it's just the pregnancy hormones," eliciting a laugh from both Jay and yourself, knowing that the truth was far deeper than a mere hormonal surge.

How y’all feeling about this one? I hope I did Mr. Halstead justice. Be sure to comment and reblog lovelies🩵.

Tagging a few lovelies🩵:

@darqchilddaydreamz @sunshine-flower @astoldbychae @1andonlytashae @alertyoulikeitsamber @thirtysomethinganduncensored @starrynite7114

[yeen-meteor]

I want to take a moment to try to express why i appreciate Haru's sadism as an actual serious part of her characterization and not just a funny contrast joke and 'yay girl violence!' don't get me wrong i love me some yay girl violence for the sake of it, but like. i think there's a lot to work with there for genuine drama writing, too, not just comic relief and i want to talk about it! (cw sugimura)

for all of haru's backstory and her life with her father, sure she's rich and has a lot of privileges, but the one thing she completely lacks is any sort of control. Everything about her life is being decided for her, her father has decided on the shape of her entire future, and she can't do anything to change it - she's being raised just for the sake of being outright sold as a sex slave trophy wife to a perverted creep who is certainly too rich and powerful to ever face legal trouble for marital rape. She's going through the motions, enjoying what she can of the life she has while she still has it, completely hopeless in the face of this horrifying future that other people are forcing her into. Her will means nothing, what she wants means nothing.

And then the Phantom Thieves come along, and they give her the power to make her will matter, to fight for her own freedom and happiness. And that power comes in the shape of violence, physically fighting images of all the things and people standing in her way.

But more than that, she starts to feel 'shivers of excitement' when she hears shadows begging and pleading beneath her. She feels what it's like to have something absolutely, pathetically desperate to make her stop, to deny her what she wants - and to bask in the feeling that she doesn't have to listen, she's the strong one, she can shut them the fuck up with an axe through the skull because their will, their selfish desire, their plan for her doesn't matter anymore, her will, Haru's will matters. It's catharsis, it's intoxicating, it's a rich and indulgent feeling of real actual control and the freedom that comes with it, something she's been denied all her life, and it's probably an unhealthy way to get that feeling but who cares? these are just shadows!

And that catharsis and relief and self-assured confidence she gets from that just makes her better able to be her sweetest, kindest, purest self around the people she loves! It doesn't undermine the sweet person she is, it helps it!

And then, she makes the choice to try to cure her father's brain-rotting greed and see if there's anything worth salvaging in his heart. It might not be the best choice, it could certainly be argued about, but it's her choice, it's her will, and she finally, finally feels like she's able to make that mean something-

and Akechi takes the choice away from her, and forces her to live in the future he decided for her.

I think when people write the dynamic between Akechi and Haru, they can sometimes miss the forest for the trees - 'you killed my father', without the underlying 'this was the first time i believed i ever had a choice in my own life, and you took it away from me and fucking crushed it before my eyes'. I've also seen it done very well too, and I love it! but i think a lot of writers are sleeping on the potential a bit, of haru & akechi focused stories, or even of haru as a source of drama and an interesting supporting character in shuake stories. In general, haru's potential for anger, frustration, violent desires and just a need to feel in control of her own life has a lot of potential in drama writing!

Atlus certainly dropped the ball on the akechi and haru dynamic, and kept the sadism thing as mostly comic relief, but Persona canons are all half-realized outlines of good ideas just begging for fic writers to come and actually flesh them out, anyway, so ah well!

all i hope for is that if you're a persona writer that doesn't know what to do with haru or how to use her, or doesn't pay her much mind, maybe this might inspire you or give you a clearer idea of how to write her dramatic side!

[amazingmaeve]

FINDING COMFORT

queen maeve x fem!reader

summary — after maeve was ruthlessly outed by homelander vought had the bright idea to make one of the first sapphic superhero couple. that’s where you come in, and since you’ve been out vought has used you for profit so it’s not much of a surprise, what surprises you is the feelings that grow between you and maeve.

warnings — smut, oral (r receiving ), scissoring, some, bits of angst, fluff, and vought and Homelander just being really annoying

word count — 6,240 words

authors note — im so excited for this I’ve been wanting to write for her since I first started watching and finally I got to its. anyways I hope you enjoy this and happy reading. gif credits. also got some inspiration from @venus-haze fic kick it out so if you hadn’t read that please of because it’s amazing!

queen maeve masterlist | the boys masterlist

“Are you fucking crazy,” Maeve snapped as she stood in front of Ashley with her arms across her chest. Her face hardened as soon as Ashley said those stupid words. Maeve could feel the blood inside her start to boil and she had to refuse to punch her in the face.

“I’m sorry this is just what The Seven needs their first lesbian-,” Ashley began to say.

“Bisexual,” Maeve interrupted with a glare in her eyes.

“Bisexual superhero in The Seven and in a relationship with another woman. The world will love this, it will bring a whole new meaning to girl power,” Ashley ranted as her face was filled with excitement.

“I’m sorry I’ve done this shit already with Homelander why would I want to do this again,” Maeve questioned as the word ‘Homelander’ came out her mouth, er stomach was burning with vile and chest filled of vitriol towards the man who thinks he’s the best thing to ever be conceived.

“This will be different, this girl isn’t like Homelander, she’s actually not murderous and she won’t cause as much drama as him,” Ashley defended the idea she came up with.

Maeve sighed as she stood in Ashley's office, she didn’t know what to do, she hasn’t been with a girl since Elena, and yeah she’s had lots of sex with guys but girls are different. She had such a strong bond with Elena and she didn’t know if she could do it over again with this girl Ashley was talking about.

Not to mention that Homelander is a jealous prick even though Maeve and him aren’t together, he’ll cause her life a living hell and this girl as well. Maeve didn’t know if she could bring this random superhero into this already heated up drama.

“You know what Homelander is like,” Maeve muttered knowing that he could be listening at any moment and barge through the door. “You know what he might do to this girl and you want to bring her into this,” She questions.

“Trust me he won’t do anything,” Ashley reassured Maeve. “And plus I think this girl can handle her own,” She says.

“Who is the girl anyway,” Maeve asked, as she was piqued with curiosity. There weren’t many openly gay superheroes and she doesn’t have enough willpower to recognize all of them or she just wasn’t interested.

“Oh it’s The Traveler,” Ashley whispered and Maeve nodded. She’s heard of you, of course, you were one of the few lesbian superpowers. She knows that you can travel between time and make portals to travel place to place.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Maeve's head snapped towards the direction and Ashley said, “Come in,” and you came through the door.

You walked through the door and Maeve couldn’t deny that you were a beautiful woman. You were dressed in your superhero costume, a black skirt and a black leotard for a top and leather jacket to cover it. There were purple gems glittering all over your outfit and the end of the outfit was topped with some black boots.

“Can you hurry up Ashley I don’t have all fucking day,” You snap as come to walk next to Maeve without even giving her a glance.

“I know you probably heard that Queen Maeve here is now part of the LGBTQ+ community and we wanted to make something good out of it,” Ashley told you and you rolled your eyes.

You had great sympathy for Maeve as she was outed on public’s television at the hands of Homelander and if you were in her position you would have never worked with a man as vile as he is. But you understood that getting out of the Seven and getting out of Homelanders sight is a hard thing to do.

Plus she wasn’t hard on the eyes.

“You mean you want to capitalize on her sexuality,” You say, letting your arms fall to your sides. It wasn’t surprising since it was what they do to you all the time. Having you do commercials for Vought as one of the lesbian superheroes. It was especially hard during pride month where they used you for monetary gain, having you speak at conventions and on talk shows about how you were so proud of your sexuailtiy and you were but you hated how they took advantage of you. But hey at least they pay you graciously.

Maeve looked at you covering her surprised face with her usual hard shell. You were right, they were just going to use her and bleed her dry until she was just a shell of her old self, as if she wasn’t already.

“You know that’s what I mean,” Ashley defended herself and you let out a huff when she said those words.

“Do we even have a choice,” Maeve questioned and you nodded alongside her. You were curious if you could even say no to Vought.

“Yes of course you do,” Ashley says.

“I guess I‘ll do it,” You muttered looking at the ground at your boot-covered feet.

“Maeve,” Ashley questioned, her tone dropped to a more serious tone.

“Whatever,” Maeve responded in her bitter tone and you understood it all too well. You were just like her when you came out and Vought used you, and plus she was a part of the Seven, she’d be more valuable and by proxy more profitable.

“Then it’s settled we’ll have the both of you post something to your social media about how you two were in a secret relationship and decided to be out as a couple in the public,” Ashely says, her eyes back on the iPad she had and her tone more happier.

Maeve rolled her eyes at the ‘decided to be out as a couple in the public’. Homelander outed her on fucking live television there was option as coming out but she swallowed her words as she always did with Vought. She didn’t like it but it was something she was used to and something she was starting to hate more and more.

You on the other hand were looking at her with sympathy, being outed sucks and you knew this. When you were younger your friends decided to out you as lesbian so you understood to an extent. She was outed on live television where most people watched and now everyone knew.

Letting out a sigh you look at the ceiling getting ready for the shit storm Vought was about to do and how they were going to get money out of it.

It’s been a few weeks since the ‘relationship’ between you and Maeve went public and least to say people loved it. Not the conservatives and the bigots who thought that the LGBTQ commiunity is infecting the youth. But you and Maeve were the number one trending Supe ship.

After the social media post went up the two of you went on talk shows and talked about how you were excited to finally be out and proud.

Obviously not meaning any of the words either of you said. It was just Vought scripts that were as lifeless as a corpse. Nor you or Maeve didn’t believe any of the shit Vought told you to say because you two weren’t in love. At least not yet.

The two of you got along well and you could tell that Maeve was closed off to you and you weren’t mad, you were closed off as well. But when you two did speak it was only for a few moments and it tended to be more awkward than anything, but you had a mutual respect for each other and that was all that you needed.

Maeve on the other hand didn’t want to get you hurt, you seemed like a nice person and you didn’t deserve the wrath that Homelander held, her on the other she felt like she deserved. You didn’t. So if she kept her distance with you unless the two of you were expected to show up somewhere or public dates the two of you go on.

To be completely honest Maeve was starting to like you, you were cute, you made jokes that made her stifle a laugh and that was more of a reason to distance herself. She couldn't get you involved her fucked up mess. She didn’t know if you liked her but you liked her enough to make small talk and to seek her out and ask her about her day. Even if you didn't, she needed to do what was right.

She couldn’t do that to you even though she was finding herself more and more into it, the more she found out the more she was interested. The more she was in this ‘relationship’ was way more comforting than the one she had with Homelander and deep down she was loving every second she had with you. But she would get a happy ending with you or with anyone.

The two of you enter an elevator after a long day of work, going out and stopping criminals and least to say the both of you were tired.

“God this day was really tiring,” You mutter leaning against the wall of the elevator.

“You can say that twice,” Maeve muttered, crossing her arms across her chest looking down at the elevator floor.

“Is it getting any better,” You blurted out the question that you've been wanting to ask her but didn’t want to be too intrusive.

“Is what getting any better,” Maeve questions even though she knew what you were talking about.

“Believe it or not I know how you feel with the whole outing situation but I can’t imagine what you’re going through, especially since Homelander did that to you. But all I know is after I was outed it took me a while to get comfortable in my own skin,” You say and Maeve does her best not to react to his name being brought up. She sure as hell knows that he’s probably listening so she’s going to have to be herself.

“Things are….. better,” Maeve says with uncertainty in her tone and you gave her a look of pity knowing that she was lying.

She had her walls built up higher than you can ever imagine and you wanted to help her break those walls down, so that she could look at herself and see what you see. A beautiful strong woman. You felt your heart start to race as it usually did when you were alone with her.

“Hey,” You say, approaching her and putting your hand on her upper arm and she tenses as you do so but she’s not willing to admit that your touch caused some sparks to go up her spine. “Just so you know if you need anything from me, or just to talk I’m always here for you, just because Vought is making us do this doesn’t mean I don’t care and talking about it really does help. So just remember that, any time of the day you need something, don't be afraid to knock on my door,” You say with a soft tone that almost made her melt, that almost made her just say screw it and kiss you but she held back.

“Thanks, right back at you,” Maeve says and you give her a soft smile before removing your hand.

“I’m gonna need to take something before I go and see Ashely because she is getting on my fucking nerves,” You say to break the tension.

“Trust me you’re gonna need a lot more of anything you have,” Maeve snorts and you let out a small giggle.

“I know and I’m hoping that she’s either too tired to talk too much or just is gone at her home because I can’t wait to go home and finally get some rest,” You say, resting your head against the hard wall.

“Or maybe she’s just getting fucked and even then she might be even grouchier,” Maeve blurts out.

“Maybe, just maybe she finds the love of her life and decides to just quit but hey dreamers can dream,” You shrug your shoulders with a slight eye roll.

“Cheers to that,” Maeve gives you a nod.

The elevator finally reaches level 99 and the two of you walk out and prepare to go your separate ways, no matter how much the two of you want to stay and talk the night away.

“See you tomorrow,” You give her a wave before heading to Ashley's office, getting ready for everything she has to say to you.

“Bye,” Maeve gives you an awkward wave as you turn around and she curses herself and shakes her head.

God she was so awkward with this, with someone she actually liked, not guys she brought up her to just fuck and to get her mind off everything. You were different and she was using all of herself to not just say screw it and try it with you. Because he would always be there and taunting her.

“See you two are getting along,” Homelander says walking up to stand next to Maeve.

Speak of the fucking devil.

“What do you want,” Maeve questioned, her hands turning into fists beside her. She did not want to deal with him right now, she didn’t want to deal with his condescending tone and him just bothering her when she didn’t want it.

“What I can’t see if my teammate is doing well in her relationship,” Homelander says feigning hurt and Maeve rolled her eyes at that. He didn’t feel hurt, he was just upset that he didn’t have her anymore.

“Why the fuck do you care, you and I both know that you’re not hurt by that, you were the who practically had it happen,” Maeve commented, telling the truth. If he didn’t out her, she wouldn’t be in this relationship with you, hell she might not even know who the fuck you are.

“That is true but is it so hard to believe that I hope you two are happy, that you guys happen to be just like the two of us. Starting out fake and ending up in a real relationship,” Homelander says putting his hands behind his back and Maeve had to bite her tongue so she wouldn’t tell him how much she fucking despised him.

“Just leave her the fuck alone please,” Maeve says her tone with an underlining of fear. Fear for you.

“Why would you think I want to hurt her? If anything I might thank her for making you happy, and who knows we all might be friends in the end if things work out right,” Homelander calmly says and Maeve could hear the subtle threat. Even if he wasn’t outright threatening you, she knew something would happen to you if she didn’t do something to protect you. Staying away was out of the question. She needed to make sure you were okay.

“Plus, you seem really comfortable with her, especially with that talk you guys just had,” Homelander says with a grin. Maeve could swear she felt her heart stop but she kept a straight face. “Hopefully she knows what she's in for when she signed up for this, literally,” He chuckles.

“Whatever, can you please just leave me alone,” Maeve snapped and Homelander gave her a shocked and surprised look.

“You know you might want to keep your eye on her, I mean who knows what could happen to her, especially at night,” Homelander says with a cryptic tone as his shoulders tense before he leaves.

Once Maeve made it to her penthouse she finally let out a breath of air that she’s been holding. She knew that he wouldn’t out right kill you right now, so she had some time to get a game plan. She had to protect you. No matter what it took.

Taking a swig of her whiskey she took a seat on her couch as her shoulders slouched with tiredness and stress. Besides everything she couldn’t wait to see you, no matter when.

It’s been a few days since that day in the elevator, but you don’t know what’s changed in Maeve. She’s been more into talking to you and you can’t say you’re upset. She’s been more of a comfort, and you loved that.

But she’s been flirting with you at least more outwardly.

You can’t lie when you say that you've been loving it. Ever since this relationship started a few weeks ago you’ve been trying to talk to her and now she’s actually talking to you. Whatever changed in her you loved it.

She’s also been very sad whenever you have to leave, whether it was to go to work somewhere else or go home. She always looked a bit upset and you didn’t know why, it couldn’t be she’d miss your presence. At least you didn’t think so.

But you've always reassured her that you’d be back whether it's the next day or a few hours from then. She seemed to like the reassurance you gave her and you’ve been using that so she doesn’t get so sad, upset, or hurt when you leave. It sometimes left you up at night wondering if she was just lonely or she acutely did like you.

On the other side of the fence Maeve has been keeping her eye on you after Homelander not so subtly threatened you. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy flirting with you. Even though it’s been a while since she has flirted, you seemed to enjoy whatever line she threw your way based on the shy smile you’d give her, or the tiny laugh.

Even though she enjoyed flirting, she’s been getting more and more clingy due to Homelanders eye now being on you. Asking you if you were going to be okay, or when you’re going to be back and you’ve always reassured her that you would be back and you were fine.

It helped but it didn’t help the thought that you may be dead the next day and when you walked in the room with your signature smile she felt herself relax. What usually helped her get through the night is alcohol but she hated drinking that shit even though it helped her clear her head.

On this particular night, Maeve sat down on her couch trying to just watch tv but her thoughts kept coming back to you. If you were okay and if you were, what were you doing? It was only 11 at night so you wouldn’t be doing much and she hasn’t had any alcohol today. So nothing stopped her when she stripped herself out of her costume and into some jeans and a flannel t-shirt.

Looking in the mirror she cringed a little, it’s been a while since she’s been in casual clothes.

Putting her hair into a ponytail and then she shook it out trying to figure out what to do with it. She decided to just leave it down and put some sunglasses on to make sure no one recognized it was her, people were probably already asleep or in their homes so hopefully they didn’t recognize her.

Walking out of the Vought tower she looked around to make sure no one knew her or even worse, if Homelander was following her. He’s been in and out of it recently so she hoped he set his eyes on something else.

She walked in the direction of the Vought owned apartment building where you lived. You told her where you lived, if she needed to see you or if she just wanted to talk.

In this particular moment she just needed some comfort, whether it be talking or just being in the same room as you. Anything would do, if she were there, she would be able to make sure to keep you safe. At least try.

Standing in front of the door she raised her hesitantly and stopped trying to control her racing heart, but she took a deep breath as she knocked on the door and took a step back waiting for you to answer it and took her sunglasses off as well.

No going back now.

At first she was worried that you weren’t there, or worse that you were just dead because you weren’t answering the door but she felt her shoulders drop as soon as she heard you walking to the door.

Once you opened you were surprised to see Maeve standing there, especially in casual clothes since you’ve never seen her in anything else. But you saw her give you an awkward smile and you licked your lips before deciding to say something.

“Maeve what’s wrong,” You question, clearing your throat moving out of the way so she could come into the apartment. Luckily you were still awake because you were about to go to sleep, she probably knew due to you wearing sleeping shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted to come over since you always said I could if I needed to,” Maeve awkwardly rambled as she entered the room and you closed the door behind her.

“Don’t worry I wasn’t asleep yet, I was about to but you got here just in time,” You reassured her standing in front of her.

“I just needed to talk to you, or to just be here next to you,” She says while shaking her head as she feels her body finally relax. You were safe.

“Oh well, I’m glad you did, I did say you were welcome here anytime,” You give her a cheeky smile making your way into the kitchen. “Want some water, or any other beverage,” You questioned.

“Water is okay,” Maeve answers, scratching the back of her head as she makes her way to sit on your couch. Your apartment was very homey, nothing like the lifelessness of her penthouse back at the tower. This place made her feel safe, like she could just live here with you.

“Okay here you go,” You say, giving her the glass of water before sitting down on the couch next to her leaning against the cushion and facing your body so that you were looking at her. “Since you are here, do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you or do you want to just watch tv, that’d be fine as well,” You question not wanting to feel too pushy.

“Let’s just talk,” Maeve softly replies before turning her body to look at you as well. It was pretty dark but not dark enough to see that Maeve looked really happy and that made you feel good.

“What do you suggest,” You ask, contorting your body so that one leg was under you.

“Uh what do you do besides being a superhero that works with Vought, or is this your full time job like me,” She asks.

“Well I do like to volunteer on my own time, without any cameras to talk to kids in children's hospitals, I just feel like Vought would just use that to monetize it so I just kept it to my spare time,” You answer looking down at your lap.

“Wow, so you're just a real superhero,” Maeve says, looking at you with adoration. She always wanted to be a hero and when she started, she felt like it, she really wanted to help people but Vought ruined it like they always do and soon she was just another person they could get money from.

“Well so are you, I mean you’re Queen Maeve for fucking sake, you make a difference even if you weren’t out in the front line,” You chuckle.

“I don’t think I do,” Maeve answers with a tiny cringe. She wishes that she was everything you said about her but she wasn’t and that just made her heart almost stop.

“Come on, you’re an inspiration to little girls all around the world and now you’re probably helping a lot of kids come to terms with their sexuality and trust me I wish I had someone like you to look up to when I was growing up,” You say, your tone full of happiness.

“I don’t see it,” Maeve laughs, taking a swig of her water.

“I wish you could see what I see when I look at you,” You muse looking at her with such warmth that would make her feel like the only person in the world. You put your hand on her arm giving a smile caress.

“Vought just fucking sucks,” Maeve remarked and you give her small nod.

“That is true, I mean I’m only doing it for the money now,” You say with contempt. “It’s just another greedy corporation that doesn’t care about anything they say it does.”

“It just feels like I’m projecting this persona and no one knows the real me, with all the fucking scripts and talk show interviews, its just fucking tiring,” Maeve sighs, resting one of her hands on your knee just taking in the comfort you’re offering her. “It’s just one thing after another they want you to do and it’s never enough.”

“That’s true nothing will ever be enough for fucking greedy companies like Vought, but you knows what helps me,” You say leaning in a bit.

“What,” Maeve questions, using her thumb to rub figure eights on your knee as she unconsciously starts to move it a little higher.

“Knowing that someone out there, no matter who they are, and they need inspiration and we can give them that, even if it’s just to stand up to their fucking boss or kick a guy in his balls if he can’t take fucking no for an answer. People who just look up to us and know that we make that difference, I know it sounds kind of stupid but it really does help me sleep better at night,” You say knowing the stories your fans have told you, about how much you helped them.

Meanwhile Maeves had started to give your leg some goosebumps. You were already a bit hot and bothered due to her just being her and now she was teasing you.

“That makes sense, I just wish I could look through those lenses,” Maeve lets out a tiny giggle.

“I hoped that helped you though, because I totally see where you’re coming from,” You say with a bit of worry.

“Don’t worry you totally helped me, you just being here and listening to me helped me,” Maeve reassured you, giving her hand a squeeze on your thigh, she moved a bit closer to you as you felt your heart start to race a bit. “Can I uh try something,” She asked with a laugh.

“Of course, anything,” You say with a swallow.

Maeve leaned in closer til she pressed her lips to yours and you put your hand on her cheek and moved your lips along hers. It’s been a while since you’ve even liked someone so kissing someone felt like eons ago.

But it felt good kissing her and her hand lightly caressing your thigh as she kissed you hard and slipped her tongue in your mouth after you lost the battle of dominance. You moaned into her mouth as she started to trail kisses down your neck and started to suck a bruise on your clavicle.

You moaned as you felt yourself get wetter and wetter by the second and the only sound you could hear in the apartment was her heavy breathing and your moans.

“Where’s your room,” Maeve muttered the question as she started to trail kisses up your neck and right below your ear and started to make another hickey right there.

“Uh,” You began to say but moaned when she found your sweet spot on your neck. “It’s straight down the hall,” You say as you clear your throat.

Maeve then surprised you with your strength (which you shouldn’t be really surprised) and picked you up so your legs were wrapped around her waist as the two of you kept kissing as she made her way to your room. Her hand was on your ass and started to gently squeeze, making you moan into her mouth again.

She finally got your door open and walked to your bed and gently put you on the bed but not leaving you alone for a while as she made her way on top of you and started to kiss you again.

Your hands found their way into her long red hair as she ran her hands up and down your thighs which made you sigh into her mouth as her tongue started to explore what felt like every inch of your mouth. You started to grind up into her hips trying to get some friction you most desperately needed even though you were still in the confines of your shorts.

Making her way down your neck she started to pepper kisses along your chest and got frustrated when your shirt got in the way. She moved her hands to the hem of your shirt and you leaned up a little so she could pull it off you. She gave your chest a look of adoration before she started to trail kisses and started to leave hickeys along your chest.

You were letting out little whines and whimpers due to the fact that you felt like your pussy was getting more and more wet each time she kissed your body.

Her mouth finally made its way to your nipple and wrapped her plump lips around the tiny bud that was already hard due to it being a bit chilly. You moaned and arched your back a bit when she began to suck your nipple and you started to grind harder and harder against her own hips.

Moving away Maeve unbuttoned her own shirt and threw it to the side to where your shirt laid. You didn’t even have a little time to stare at her chest before she started to kiss down your stomach and around your belly button and started to toy with the strings of your shorts.

“Please,” You moaned as her hands moved down to your upper thighs and squeezed a bit harder but it definitely didn’t hurt you.

“Please what,” Maeve said with a cheeky tone that almost made you explode into pieces.

“Just touch me please,” You begged, jutting your hips up trying to get more friction on your pussy as you felt yourself get more and more wet if that was even possible.

Her hands made their way to your hips and pressed them down to the bed so you couldn’t move your hips and you let out a whine at that. You felt like you were about to burst into pieces.

“Just relax and have some patience sweetheart,” Maeve said with a sultry tone that made you whimper.

You nodded and decided to relax against the pillow which made Maeve give you a little smile. She moved back to your lower stomach and returned to kissing your body and you closed your eyes and let out tiny moans whenever she decided to give you a little nip.

Once she decided she was done with teasing you which felt like an eternity, she pulled down the shorts and let out a little laugh when she saw that you weren’t wearing any panties. While you moaned as the cool air came into contact with your wet pussy.

“God you are so fucking hot,” Maeve cursed as she moved down little and started to tease your inner thighs and decided to resume her kissing as she slowly made her way up.

You moaned as she sucked another hickey right above your aching clit that was throbbing. Her hands were still on your hips so that you could grind your hips up and that level of strength she held made your insides heat up. She chuckled against your skin as she felt you try to but she didn’t let up.

Once she did decide to take mercy upon you and press a gentle kiss to your kiss, you let out a tiny moan due to the sensitivity. She dragged her tongue along your wet folds, that made you moan and squeeze the blanket that you were laying on and your hand turned into fist.

Her tongue started doing wonders as she ran it up and down your folds multiple times and went up to your clit and your hips stuttered a bit when she wrapped her lips around your clit and started to softly suck on the soft nub.

“Maeve,” You moaned louder this time, that your neighbors might hear you.

Meanwhile Maeve had her thoughts clear of Homelander once you started moaning and she already adored the way she could make you melt with a couple kisses and touches.

Due to her teasing you, you could already feel your organsm rising and you would feel a bit embarrassed but Maeve seemed to know and started to suck harder and her mouth left your clit once which made you whine a bit but was quickly reassured when she ran her tongue up your folds and sucked your clit harder this time. She ran her tongue all around the little nub that she could feel throbbing.

“Maeve, I’m about too-,” You say your voice a little high pitched.

Maeve gave your hips a squeeze and nodded her head in reassurance without removing her lips from the tender muscle. So you just let your body do your thing and you let out strings of moans and yelps as Maeve started to suck faster and harder and with another single suck you let out a loud moan as you came all over her tongue.

Even though you felt like you blacked out, you could feel Maeve dip her tongue into your folds, deciding to clean up your release and moaning at the taste of you. You winced at the overstimulation and put your hand on her arm tugging her back up and luckily she did.

You could taste yourself on her mouth as she started to kiss you again and your hands started to move to her hips wanting to return the favor.

“Come on, take your pants off and let me help you,” You mutter against her lips, which makes her moan into your mouth. She nodded against your lips.

Once she got her pants and panties off and she returned to kissing you, your hands made their way to her hips again and started to move around to her thighs. But deciding that she still wanted to be in control she moved her hands to yours and put them to the sides and gave them a squeeze which made you moan into her mouth.

“I just want to help you like you helped me,” You whimper against her lips.

“I know but just trust me with this,” Maeve muttered moving her lips from yours.

The next thing you knew you felt her grinding her pussy on top of yours and her clit dragging across yours. You moaned but that was quieted once she decided to stick her tongue down your throat again.

You weren’t complaining.

Her grinding didn’t stop or show any hesitance as she felt her own release start to rise. Her clit throbbed against yours as she felt the knot in her stomach start to tighten even more. And due to the fact that she’s been wet ever since she kissed you it didn’t even take one more thrust before she came against your pussy with a strained moan of your name.

You smiled against her lips and kissed her neck and shoulder as she came down from her own release.

Once she felt legs stop shaking Maeve pulled the blankets over both of your nude bodies and wrapped her arms around and rested her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Feel better,” You quested drawing random things on the arm that was wrapped around your waist. You felt her chuckle against your neck and pepper a few kisses below your ear.

“Feel amazing,” Maeve whispered in your ear which made you let out an airy giggle.

“Well I’m glad I could help,” You laugh as you put your hand on top of hers.

“You definitely did more than help,” Maeve says as her eyes look over your nude form. Even though she couldn’t see much she saw something that made her let out a giggle.

“What are you laughing at,” You smile, twisting your body a bit so you could get a better look at her. But you had to admit a smile looked amazing on her.

“I just wanted to apologize,” Maeve says between little laughs.

“For what and you don’t seem sorry for whatever it is,” You laugh along with her.

“I just wanted to say sorry for the bruises,” Maeve sheepishly says and you look down to your hips and you could feel yourself already get more wet by looking at them.

“No need to say sorry, It’s kinda hot,” You say with a smirk.

“You dirty dog,” Maeve laughs, resting her head on the pillow.

“Says you,” You laugh and for what feels like ages you finally feel happy.

[velvet-games]

ficlet inspired by this post @theautotrophic made. it ended spiraling into something very different lol but it's still kind of the same idea? I just needed to explain why vox joins the hotel in my universe.

“Ugh! How is this still happening?” Charlie moaned, turning off the TV. “I don’t think we can make any progress if we don’t start creating our own news coverage.”

“What was that?” Alastor stepped closer to the couch she and Vaggie were slumped on, suddenly curious. 

“It’s Vox. He’s making almost every channel about how much of a failure the hotel is – even though we just proved redemption is possible – and I think it’s actually gaining a lot of traction.” Charlie sighed. “It’s just … I thought everything would get better after we saved the day and my dad could help out, you know? But we’re still fighting just to get people to give us a chance.”

Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re the ones with actual proof. I’m sure if we make our own announcement–”

“Wait! Alastor, you made that commercial last time, right?”

“Oh, uh, about that, Charlie–”

“You can make more to counter Vox’s stuff. Hey, and you were friends with him at some point too, right? So you know how to deal with him–”

“Charlie.” Vaggie spun Charlie around to face her. “Sorry. It’s just …”

“Vaggie made a deal with me so that I would never have to work with those picture boxes again,” Alastor finished cheerfully. 

Vaggie visibly deflated in shame. “Uh, yeah, something like that,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.” Her expression became even more miserable as Charlie seemed to deflate too.

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Well, maybe you could–”

“But!” Alastor interjected, holding up a finger. He was far above drawing any attention to the Vees unprovoked, but this was about as good of an excuse as any. “The purpose of the deal was to prevent me from having any obligation to use the medium for producing entertainment. I would be happy to … take care of the interference from Vox.”

“Great!” Charlie’s eyes shone for one perfectly naive second before her face twisted in suspicion. “Wait … what are you gonna do?”

“Oh, just mess with his wires a little; nothing extreme, dear.”

—

A loud BOOM shook the building as Vaggie failed for the third time to get the TV to turn on. She sighed. “Goddammit.” None of the TVs were working, the Vees’ website had crashed, and Alastor had been gone for the last 24 hours. Vaggie could almost see the expression of horror on Charlie’s face when she found out Alastor had absolutely done more than “mess with his wires a little.” Vaggie rushed to the window, and yep. There it was: a giant red deer demon with shadow tentacles shooting out of it as a much smaller blue smudge darted around with trails of electricity following it. She sighed again. “Charlie? Come down; Alastor’s being an asshole again.”

—

“And I had a great idea for a new show that was gonna air today too!” Vox narrowly dodged another hit from Alastor’s shadows. 

“Another new show? My dear, you really are proving just how much you’re throwing rocks at the wall in the hopes that they’ll miraculously stick.” Alastor turned as Vox appeared behind him in a shower of sparks. “And was it really your idea? Or did you just have your little unpaid underlings come up with it for you?” 

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, I think we’re far past that possibility, darling.” Alastor chuckled, finally managing to grab Vox before he could jump into another streetlamp. “What was the idea? Another reality dating show with manufactured drama? Really, is anything you produce even remotely original nowadays?” The shadow tendril threw Vox into a nearby building. What remained of the terrified pedestrians scattered like ants as Vox fell, several bricks going with him. “What a pity. You used to at least come up with half-decent stories, even if the endings were always laughable.”

Vox groaned, trying to hold several shards of his broken screen in place. “N-No one cares. No one fucking cares what you think; I’m the one who built the empire. You have like, three listeners on that ancient radio show.”

“And each one of them has told me how much they like it, that it’s their favorite, even!” Alastor leaned down. “Would anyone watch you without the hypnosis, without other people’s hard work masquerading as your own?” He smirked. “Would anyone love you without manipulation?”

That last part caused Vox to look up, teeth bared. Several wires shot out of the building behind him and attached themselves to his head, lifting him up to be at eye level with Alastor. “Would anyone love you without manipulation?” Alastor kept smiling despite the surge of electricity that hit him; he quickly batted Vox out of the air, cutting off the attack. 

“I’ll have you know that nearly everyone who meets me adores me, whether they admit it or not,” Alastor replied smoothly. “Including you.”

Vox was on his knees, wires falling as he coughed up what became a puddle of blood. It was always startling how red it was, despite the mechanical nature of most of his body. “Yeah, have a fucking laugh.” His voice became quiet, muffled by static. “Have a fucking laugh about the fact that I loved you and you threw me away like a box of scraps.” He sniffed, standing up shakily and wiping a trail of red from his mouth. “Well, I’m the one with all the influence now, aren’t I? I’m the one with an actual team. You were fading even before you left; I bet you really did ask an angel for help, just to stay fucking relevant. Most of the other overlords aren’t scared of you anymore, and they’ll fucking kill you when none of them are.” 

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “You loved me? Is that why you ran away with that moth to make ‘entertainment’ even you won’t watch?” He started shrinking to his usual size, stepping forward. 

Vox scrambled back, one hand generating a few weak sparks. “Val loves me.”

“Valentino knows you’ll gnaw on any affection you get like a starving dog with a soup bone.” Alastor pushed Vox to the ground again, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Vox’s throat. The sparks in his hand died. “He knows you’re too selfish to make a real connection with anyone.”

Tears welled in Vox’s eyes, round and filling up nearly all of what was left of his screen. “I-I still love you,” he managed to choke out quietly. 

Alastor tightened his grip. “You love money. And I was stupid enough to care for you before I realized that.” Vox’s eyes managed to get even bigger as he started to really choke. “But you’re just dirt underneath my feet, and I’ll kill you every day that I have left here so you remember that.” Alastor just watched Vox’s face for a moment, then pulled out a small knife with his other hand. “Actually, you know what? I have angelic steel with me. I think I’ll just finish you here.” He drove the blade into Vox's side before he could respond, prompting a pained, strangled sound. It wouldn’t kill him quickly. He’d feel it for hours as he bled out if no one helped him. 

“Alastor!” a shrill voice called. He turned to see Charlie’s panicked face, her chest jumping with labored breaths as she stumbled to a stop. “Stop! Stop; I’m sure he’s had enough.”

Alastor stood up, giving one last petty kick to Vox’s leg. He put on an upbeat tune. “Hm, alright. I was just about getting bored with him anyway. How about we go get lunch at that new place around the corner? I’m absolutely starved!”

“I–” Charlie blinked. “No, Alastor, he–” She looked around his shoulder, flinching when she saw the state Vox was in. “Shouldn’t we help him?” she whispered. 

“And whyever would we do that?” 

“Well, I mean …” Charlie started, then appeared to brighten a little. “Actually. I have an idea.” She straightened her shoulders, putting on her “aggressively-kindly” face and voice. “As princess of Hell, I command you to leave the Vees and come help with the hotel. And make up with Alastor.” She glanced at Alastor apologetically before mumbling quickly, “onlyifyouwanttothoughyoudon’thavetodoanythingyou’renotcomfortablewith.” 

Vox blinked, managing to look unimpressed despite bleeding profusely and only having a quarter of his original face visible between all the cracks and glitching. “I would literally rather kill myself.”

Charlie blushed all the way to her ears. “O-Oh.” 

Alastor just burst out laughing, making a show of spinning his cane as he stepped closer to Vox. “Well, old friend,” he said, lifting a heeled boot above Vox’s chest and pressing down. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary if you refuse our help.” Vox sputtered a little as Alastor continued to push. “How about this: Lucifer can heal your wound, and you take a temporary break from working with the Vees, just long enough to help us create a presentation for the angels.” He let his gums show with a smirk that probably contained enough smugness to kill a horse. “And I would love to have you for dinner the night you leave. Is that a deal?”

Vox immediately blushed despite clearly being too lightheaded from blood loss to fully understand what Alastor was saying. “You bastard” – Alastor pressed harder – “Fine! Fine, yes. It’s a deal justliftyourfootholyshitfuck–”

“Wonderful!” Alastor lifted his boot, leaving Vox coughing and bending over on his side. “Now. you two have fun; I’m afraid I need another visit to the tailor,” he said. He brushed off his lapels and straightened his cuffs. “Oh, and Vox? It wasn’t angelic steel; I just think desperation suits you.”

Alastor was gone before the cries of indignant surprise assaulted his ears.

[iamnmbr3]

Cursed Child rant? as a treat? 👉👈

Oh god. Where to even start. Listen, I know some people enjoy CC and I say more power to you. I'm not here to be the fun police and say what people can and can't like or write fic about or derive meaning from or whatever. But for me, personally, Cursed Child is an absolute mess of the worst kind that irritates me on a profound level.

First off, it's completely inconsistent with the canon characterizations and established rules of world building (and JKR didn't even do that much world building so there wasn't that much to keep track of and yet, they couldn't even bother to do that). I mean, Cedric, who tried to give the Triwizard Cup to Harry doesn't win and that somehow causes him to become a Death Eater??? Huh? It's not just ooc. It's bad storytelling. I mean, even if he was a hugely sore loser why would losing a tournament cause him to join an extremist blood purist paramilitary group? That has nothing to do with him losing. It's stupid and childish and nonsensical and SO bad.

And really? That's the best you can come up with? If the point of that whole thing was the tired trope of 'time travel goes wrong and makes things worse' they could've just had the gang expose Crouch earlier but instead of Voldemort not returning he just ends up returning but not using Harry's blood which allows him to do his original plan of growing his power in secret. And idk. Maybe then he takes over and he kills Harry and Harry doesn't come back. I didn't even put any effort into that. It's a bit dumb and inelegant but it gets the job done without wild character assassination and a lack of logic so profound it would insult the reasoning abilities of a fungus.

But ok, let's judge it as its own vaguely Harry Potter inspired thing rather than as an actual sequel to the canon series. You know what the result is? IT'S STILL BAD. It's just. SO BAD. I don't understand how it's a real thing.

It's like a parody of a bad play. It can't possibly be real. Harry suddenly has a phobia of pigeons? Why??? It's so...stupid. And I'm supposed to take that seriously? What? And the dialogue. The dialogue. "Bad" doesn't even cover it. The fact that "Wow. Squeak. My geekness is a-quivering" is a real actual line in the actual play causes me physical pain. WHO WRITES THAT?! AND THEN LEAVES IT IN THE FINAL DRAFT?!?!?

And Delphi. WHAT EVEN?! She's literally like a parody of a bad fanfic Mary Sue. Down to the blue streak in her hair. But we're supposed to take her seriously? As a villain? Tf? She's like a bad Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way knockoff. The whole play is like an unfunny parody of bad writing. But it's not supposed to be. It actually pretends to be a genuine drama. Which is so much worse. I truly think My Immortal is better. And way funnier.

No effort at all went into the story construction. Characters act incredibly childishly and unrealistically and simplistically. The story doesn't feel like it was written by adults. There's no feeling or depth or emotion. It's all plot contrivances and nauseatingly simplistic writing. It isn't a story. It's just some stuff that happens. Because the writers were just like 'eh it's Harry Potter it'll sell.' And that's not art. That's just churned out content. And it bothers me on such a profound level that they did it and got away with it.

I would be embarrassed to write that for myself, let alone to turn that in as a professional writer. It's so inconsistent with the original story that I legitimately think the 2 guys who wrote it didn't even read the books. They just glanced at the wiki and decided they were good to go. Despite being PAID to do this. How sloppy is that? Not to mention Harry Potter meant so much to so many people who were ecstatic to get more content yet the two clowns who wrote this just skimmed the wiki and then vomited out some of the worst lines ever penned in history and called it a day.