#not tagging everyone there’s a lot here

[strang3lov3]

Jingled Balls

What has four paws and ruins not only Joel’s Christmas, but his orgasm, too?

Alternatively, you and your cat stay with your dad’s best friend over Christmas.

Tags - dbf!joel, smut, age gap, unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, JOEL JORKS IT IN THE SHOWER, sexual tension, blow jobs, rough/angry sex, first aid, Joel is all grumpy and the target of all sorts of misadventures including but not limited to cat claws in Joel's balls and his butt cheeks, cats pushing shit off of Joel's counter, destroying Joel's house, etc. Some mentions of blood and injury but it’s not bad, I promise. 6.8k words. A/N - this fic is based on a true story of real crimes that have been committed by my dear Gizmo. Names have been changed out of respect for the victims. @endlessthxxghts thank you for editing babyyy i'd be lost without ya

My submission for @beefrobeefcal’s festive failure! I hope everyone has a safe holiday!!

December 20

Joel twiddles his fingers as he waits by a row of empty seats at the baggage claim area of the Austin airport, trying not to pace. He got here too early, been waiting a couple hours for your flight to land. He just couldn’t sit still at home. Already twice cleaned the house top to bottom, fluffed the guest room pillows three times each. 

You. You’re staying with Joel this Christmas. It was a last minute thing; your family, well…they forgot about you. It wasn’t intentional, all accidental. Your parents offered up every and any extra amount of room they have to extended family and in doing so, gave away your old room. Whoops. 

And so Joel got a call from your dad, his best friend. Joel was supposed to spend Christmas with your family anyway, so your dad reached out to Joel to ask if he’d be willing to take you in while you visit Austin for the week. Joel, of course, didn’t hesitate to say yes. He’d do anything for you, the sweet little girl he watched grow up. He’s missed you a lot since you left home. 

Finally, there you are. He’d recognize your smile anywhere. You wave excitedly at Joel, doing your little jog to greet him. Joel takes long steps to meet you halfway, in total disbelief at how grown up you are. Where did the time go? It was only yesterday that you were barely tall enough to reach Joel’s waist, and that was standing on your toes. He remembers teaching you to ride a bike and cleaning up your scraped knees with hydrogen peroxide, and after he bandaged you up he’d let you punch him in the arm as hard as you could to make it square. Look at you now - a beautiful woman, all grown up. 

You set your carry-on on the ground and wrap your arms around Joel, squeezing him so fucking tight it steals the oxygen right from his lungs, not that he minds. But the way you kiss his cheek makes his skin burn and his heart pound harder.

“Joel,” you whisper excitedly, hugging him tighter.

Joel lets out a wheezy chuckle. “Hey, kiddo. I missed ya,” he tells you. “S’been too fuckin’ long.” 

“Indeed,” you agree. 

Joel notices the suitcases from your flight begin to come out on the conveyor belt and squeezes your side twice to alert you, “Better go grab your suitcase, hm?”

“Oh, yeah. Duh. Here–” you laugh, pulling away from Joel to bend down. You pick up your carry on and put it in Joel’s arms, and he grunts at the surprising weight. “Hold this. Be right back.”

Joel inspects the boxy bag you placed in his hands. He turns it to the side and behind a mesh screen are two big green eyes, all wide and untrusting. “Uhhh…” Joel murmurs, further inspecting as he raises an eyebrow. It’s a cat - black fur all puffed up, growling at Joel as its eyes dart left and right. The cat hisses at Joel, causing him to nearly drop the carrier. 

You greet Joel once more, this time with your suitcase rolling behind you. “Uh, hey. Who’s this?” Joel asks, suspicion lacing his tone. 

“Gizmo!”

“Huh. Gizmo.” The cat hisses again at Joel, startling him. “You didn’t tell me that Gizmo here would be a guest of mine.” 

“Oh, I know. I’m so sorry, Joel. It was all so last minute - I found out I was staying with you and then I called kitty daycare,” you begin explaining, Joel leading the way out of the airport and to his truck. He takes your suitcase and carries both that and the carrier. “And get this - they told me they wouldn’t allow me to board Gizmo because he was too bad the last time. Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, how ‘bout that,” Joel mumbles, not so surprised.

“I know. It’s bullshit. But don’t worry about Gizmo, Joel. You won’t even know he’s there.”

“M’not really a cat person, you know,” Joel says. “Pretty sure I’m allergic to the bastards, actually.” 

Joel puts your luggage in the backseat of his truck, then opens the door for you to get in the passenger side. “Watch your step,” he warns, giving you his hand as you slide in. Joel closes the door, rounds the front of his truck and joins you, promptly starting the vehicle. The loud engine makes Gizmo cry. 

“So…” Joel begins, turning onto the busy highway. “How’s it all going? How’s work and whatnot?”

“Good,” you answer. “I don’t know. You know - work’s work. You?”

“Yeah, I hear that,” Joel replies. “Work’s work and Tommy’s…Tommy.” His joke earns him a little giggle from you. “What else is new? Got a boyfriend?” You give Joel a look, and he shrugs. “What?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, old man?” you tease, talking over Gizmo’s crying. “No, I do not. What about you, Joel, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Cute. Yeah, I do actually. Your father.” Another giggle. Joel laughs too, and he has to fight himself to keep his eyes on the road. You just look so fucking beautiful. 

Gizmo whines some more, and Joel looks both irritated and concerned. “It’s okay, Gizmo,” you coo, reaching back to touch his carrier, though the effort does little to soothe him. Joel’s truck chimes when you unbuckle your seatbelt and throw your torso over the front seat, your ass right next to Joel’s head makes him cough and clear his throat. 

“What the f-”

Thump. You land in the backseat and open Gizmo’s carrier to pet him and calm him. “It’s alright, Giz- oh, Gizmo, did you have an accident?” Joel’s mouth drops as his eyes dart frantically between the road ahead and the rearview mirror to watch you in the backseat. He’s got a bad taste in his mouth about this.  

Now at home, Joel listens to the awful sounds of Gizmo wailing and your shrieks as you bathe the cat after his accident. He had to clean the backseat of his truck, but he didn’t tell you that. When you’re done washing Gizmo, you wrap him in one of Joel’s nicer towels, the one he set aside for you. 

It’s evening when you come downstairs, clutching your soggy cat in his towel. You’re already in your pajamas, and Joel’s at the door paying the delivery person for the pizza he took the liberty of ordering. 

“Ooh, is that pizza?”

“Sure is. Plain cheese and pepperoni. Sit down, I’ll serve ya,” Joel says. “What would you like?”

“Cheese. Please and thank you.”

You smile as you sit down on Joel’s couch, scratching Gizmo’s damp little head as he purrs happily in your arms. With hands full with plates and cans of pop, Joel makes a disgusted sort of face as you kiss Gizmo’s nose. “Here,” he says, handing you a plate. Gizmo hops off of your lap. 

“Thank you.” You take a can of pop from Joel as well, cracking it open as Joel sits right next to you. He turns the TV on, Die Hard already a quarter through on whatever channel his TV was set to. It’ll do. 

You and Joel eat pizza together, talking here and there until the conversation fades away and only pizza crust remains on your plates, which are haphazardly set on the coffee table in front of you. At some point, you’ve slid closer to Joel, now pressed against his side with your head resting on his shoulder, dozing off to sleep. He smiles warmly, you poor thing. All worn out after a long day of travel. He doesn’t mind being your pillow.

Scrrraatchk, skrecht. Joel hears the odd, rhythmic noise of…something. “Hey, hon–” Joel wiggles his shoulder. “What’s that noise?”

“Mm?”

“That sound, it’s–”

Out of the corner of his eye, Joel catches Gizmo scratching on his leather recliner - his favorite recliner ever. La-Z-Boy just doesn't make them like they used to. “Oh, god bless it. The fuckin’ cat’s scratchin’ on my chair.”

“Oh, shit. Psst,” you whisper, patting the couch to get Gizmo’s attention, who gives you and Joel that deer in the headlights look. “Knock it off. You know better than that, baby,” you scold in the sweetest, most indulgent tone. Joel rolls his eyes. This is getting old already. “Sorry, Joel. He’s just nervous, trying to make himself feel at home.” 

“Mm,” Joel grumbles. “You know, this is exactly why people get their cats declawed. You never considered that for Heathcliff there?”

“No,” you deadpan. “It’s inhumane.” 

Joel raises his hands in surrender, then eyes Gizmo as he walks around the perimeter of the living room, stopping to sniff and bat at Joel’s Christmas tree. “Watch him,” he warns, voice dripping with irritation. 

You smack his arm. “Oh, relax, old man. He’s not gonna do anything. Pretty tree, though.” 

“Thanks. Decorated it myself.” 

“I can tell. It’s missing ornaments in the back,” you tease. Joel rolls his eyes, though unoffended. “Still. It’s nice to be around a Christmas tree. I don’t have one this year.” 

“You don’t?”

“Mm-mm. Gizmo’s too naughty.” 

Joel turns to look at you, baffled by your cognitive dissonance. He just shakes his head, and you go right back to almost-snuggling him. 

Gizmo loses interest in Joel’s Christmas tree and continues making his rounds, checking out the window and pawing at the blinds, which makes Joel cringe. Before Joel can say anything you shiver, tucking yourself closer into his side. “You cold, kiddo?”

“A little. But I’m fine.” 

“Bullshit.” Joel nudges you away from him so he can get up, then pulls a blanket from a basket on the floor. It’s one of those fleece tie blankets, with the repeated logo of the Dallas Cowboys patterned on one side, plain navy on the other. You made this blanket for him, actually. Years and years ago. It’s his favorite - used to be soft at one point, but it’s all scratchy and worn now, well-loved by Joel. He drapes it over his lap and holds one end up, inviting you to get cozy underneath it. But before you do, Gizmo jumps on Joel’s lap. “Awwwh,” you murmur, smiling warmly at your cat. “He stole the blanket.” 

“Yeah, but s’alright. We’ll jus’ move him,” Joel says, reaching for Gizmo. 

“No, no, he’s fine,” you insist, petting Gizmo’s back. “I think he likes you.” 

“Oh, great,” Joel says sarcastically. Gizmo curls up happily on Joel’s lap, kneading the blanket right over Joel’s crotch, which is an uncomfortable sensation. Joel winces and grunts when Gizmo paws his balls. “Watch it, you little shit.” 

“Be nice,” you scold, swatting Joel in the arm.

“Uh-huh.”

You and Joel finish the movie and start another, all with Gizmo sleeping happily on Joel’s lap. At some point, you’ve curled yourself up and are now sleeping on your side, feet pressed against Joel’s thigh. “Alright. Time for you to fuck off.” Joel pushes Gizmo off his lap, earning a disgruntled meow from the cat. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, shooing him away before pulling the fleece blanket over your sleeping form. “If it were up to me, you’d be sleepin’ in the garage. So don’t you wake her,” he warns, wagging a finger in Gizmo’s direction. “Asshole.” 

December 21

A bit of golden light peeks through Joel’s curtain, gently waking him up. He yawns and checks his digital alarm clock, though he can barely make out the time. Meh. It’s sunrise, whenever that is. 

You’re probably still sleeping, Joel guesses, so he’ll grab the first shower. If you’re anything like when you were younger - and you are - if Joel doesn’t shower first, he’ll never get any hot water. He doesn't understand your unique inability to ever shower under 45 minutes, but he can work around it. 

Groaning, springs squeaking with his shifting weight, Joel gets out of bed. He takes lazy, heavy steps toward the bathroom, hair sticking up in six different directions with bags under his deep brown eyes. He turns on the water and lets it warm up for a moment, grunting as he tugs his boxers down his thighs, erection slapping against his tummy. He’s hard as a fucking rock - morning wood. 

You. You shouldn’t be in his head, but you are. Joel dreamed of you all last night, doing all sorts of filthy things with you, to you. It’s probably nothing - you’re a pretty girl, and Joel’s not gotten laid in however long. Biology. Inappropriate. Wrong. But biology, nonetheless. 

Joel steps into the tub, facing the showerhead. He wets his hair, water trickling down his broad, freckled shoulders. He first scrubs his hair using some 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, tangling his fingers in the sudsy strands, then rinses and finger-combs his hair back. Next, he grabs a bar of soap and lathers it in a rag, washing over the broad planes of his chest, his soft tummy, all down his legs, then rinses and wrings out the rag. 

His left hand on the wall, right hand palms his cock. Joel wraps his fingers around himself, sliding his hand all the way down, squeezing the base of his shaft. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers, dragging his hand back up. 

Joel fucks his fist with abandon, and in his head, he’s picturing you. “Oh goddamn, kiddo,” he moans, eyes squeezed shut. Your eyes are all big and wide with your mouth full of his cock, drooling down his shaft and onto his balls. Or you’re on top of him, hands on his chest as you fuck yourself on his cock. He’s behind you, big hands gripping your waist as he pounds against your ass, leaning over you to lick and taste the skin between your shoulder blades. 

With his eyes closed as he pumps his cock, what Joel doesn’t see is Gizmo. Gizmo, wedged between the shower curtain and the liner, sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, tail swinging wildly back and forth. His pupils are big as droplets of water roll down the clear liner. 

Joel’s dick is red and throbbing, his cheeks are flushed pink as he approaches orgasm. “Fu- oh,” he pants, quickly reaching for his damp washrag. He bites the fabric to quiet his noises of pleasure. His brow knits together, the wrinkles on his face handsomely defined as he grimaces when his cock begins to throb. He’s about to fall over the edge when it’s all ruined - a sharp pain in his ass cheek, dragging down his flesh. “AHHH!” Joel screams in both shock and agony, looking for the source of his pain. 

Of fucking course - Gizmo. Gizmo, with his little, fuzzy arm raised high, claws poking through the shower liner and right into Joel’s ass. He’s squirming, stuck like that of course, go figure. “Get the fuck out of here you fuck-” Joel yells, violently shaking the shower curtain. Gizmo sprints out of the shower and around the bathroom in circles, anxiously pawing for any way out. “God fuckin’ - SHIT,” he rages, stomping out of the tub sopping wet and inadvertently kicking Gizmo with every step he takes. Joel frantically opens the bathroom door, wet hands slipping on the handle. “Scram, you fuckin’ asshole,” he spits, watching Gizmo slip out of the bathroom. 

“JOEL?!” 

Gizmo jumps right into your arms, and Joel gawks at you. 

“What did you fucking do to my cat?”

“What did I do?” Joel seethes. “He clawed my fuckin’ ass cheek!” 

Joel can’t believe his eyes. You’re shooting him dirty looks as you kiss Gizmo’s little head, and Gizmo’s headbutting your face in return. He rubs his cheeks on your nose and curls his furry little body into yours, and you pout as you soothe him. “Yeah, sure. Worry about the cat. I’m fuckin’ fine, I guess,” Joel bites, catching a glimpse of a small amount of blood running down his thigh from his ass. 

Joel shuts the door then, and gets back into the shower. He washes the scratch with soap and water, wincing at the sting. When he’s done with his shower - and only his shower, as it’s now too late for him to make himself come, Joel apologizes to you for losing his temper. 

“Well, don’t apologize to me, Joel. Apologize to him.”

Joel pauses, jaw twitching, balling his hands into fists as he glares at Gizmo purring contentedly in your lap. “Sorry.” It’s the most painful, undeserved apology he’s ever had to make.

Between the holidays and your cat, Joel can already tell it’s gonna be a long fucking week. 

December 22

Joel’s current job site isn’t too far from home, so instead of eating a packed sandwich in his truck, he decides to come home one afternoon to make himself something for lunch.

He enters his house through the garage and sees you napping peacefully on his couch, snoring ever so quietly. Your lips are pouting, drooling a little onto his leather couch as the TV plays at a low volume. Joel chuckles quietly, shaking his head. It makes Joel happy to see you comfortable like that, so at home at his house. 

He strolls into the kitchen and opens his refrigerator, grabbing some lunch meat and cheese. He tosses them onto the counter, then grabs a jar of mayonnaise and a loaf of bread sitting on top of the refrigerator, sets those down too. Joel grabs a plate, and when he turns back around, Gizmo’s on the counter. 

“Get down from there,” Joel hisses, shooing away the cat. “Go on, git.” 

Gizmo blinks at him nonchalantly, which pisses Joel off. He knows that fucking cat speaks English. So Joel takes the liberty to shove Gizmo off of the counter, Gizmo landing on all fours with a thump and a discontent meow. “Yeah, shut up. Overgrown fuckin’ rodent.” 

Joel pulls two slices of bread from the loaf and opens the jar of mayonnaise, spreading a thin layer on each piece. He moves the jar out of the way and begins assembling his sandwich, and Gizmo hops right back onto his spot on the counter to stare at Joel.

“Oh, you little…” Joel whispers, trailing off and shaking his head. Joel cuts his sandwich on the diagonal, then begins making another - for you, of course. You always told Joel sandwiches taste better when he makes them. You’re a master fucking manipulator, with Joel wrapped tightly around your finger. 

Gizmo reaches for the cheese. “Don’t even think about it, shithead,” Joel gruffs, swatting his paw away. “The sandwich is for her. Not. You.” 

Joel puts your sandwich in a little baggy and places it in the refrigerator before writing a note for you on a post-it. When he returns to the counter, Gizmo’s surreptitiously dipping his paw into the mayonnaise. “Hey!” Joel snaps, “Get yer filthy goddamn mitts outta there.” 

December 23

It’s late at night when Joel wakes up to a horrible suffocation. His eyes fly open and his heart pounds with the heavy weight on his chest, and in his hypnagogic state, he begins to panic. Fuck, he’s having a heart attack. Confused and scared, he tosses his body with the little strength he has, and that’s when he feels it - two paws rhythmically pressing into his chest, a low purr. 

Gizmo. 

“Get the fuck off of me,” Joel whispers, pushing Gizmo off his chest. 

Gizmo makes a little mrrp noise on the floor, then leaves. Joel rolls his eyes and tosses onto his stomach, then tries to drift off to sleep. 

But he can’t. Joel’s up now, as there’s nothing like a middle of the night panic to jolt the nervous system wide awake. So Joel groans softly as he sits up in bed, yanking the blankets off his body. He takes slow, sleepy steps out of his room and down the stairs, grabbing himself a glass from the cabinet above the sink. “Fuckin’ cat,” he mumbles quietly as he fills the glass with some water. Joel takes a few sips, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of his house. In his living room, he can see some ornaments are strewn across the floor, lights pulled off the branches of his Christmas tree. As if on cue, Gizmo brushes up against Joel’s leg. “I know what you did, you motherfucker,” Joel grumbles, gently pushing Gizmo away with his foot. Joel sets the glass of water down, then makes his way to the living room. 

He first puts the lights back on the tree, and then he gathers the ornaments and places them back on the branches. 

Skrrrch.

Joel looks back to see Gizmo on the counter, nudging Joel’s glass along the surface with a gentle bat of his paw, inching it closer and closer to the edge. “HEY,” Joel whisper-yells, warning the cat, “I fuckin’ dare ya, cat. Jus’ watch what happens.” 

Gizmo makes direct eye contact with Joel as he pushes it off, and it lands with that signature, awful sound of broken glass.

“God bless it.” 

Joel stomps over to Gizmo, who frantically jumps down off the counter and skitters off into another room. Joel chases him down and turns on a light, then corners him and grabs his little body. He cradles the squirming, whining cat and inspects all four paws to make sure he didn’t step on any glass, then tosses him back onto the floor, where Gizmo then runs up the stairs and into Joel’s guest room to join you in a peaceful slumber. 

Joel sweeps up the broken glass, defeated. 

December 24

Joel’s off work for both Christmas Eve and Christmas day, so finally, he gets to spend some time with you. He’s in his pajamas making eggs and toast for you at the stove, and you’re at the kitchen table, sipping on the orange juice Joel poured for you. “Vitamin C,” he’d said. “S’good for ya.” 

Joel plates your eggs, done just how you like them, and butters your toast. “Here ya are, darlin’,” he murmurs, setting down both yours and his plates at the table. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you smile. Gizmo’s weaving in and out between your feet on the ground. With the side of your fork, you cut off a small bite of your eggs and drop it on the ground, smiling at the way Gizmo darts out to eat it. Joel just watches, completely dumbfounded. 

“You and that cat,” he sighs. “You know, he’s been causin’ me all sorts ‘a trouble all week.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” you argue, leaning down to scratch Gizmo between his ears. 

“Well, you should, ‘cause he’s the fuckin’ devil. Broke a glass last night.” 

“Did not.”

“Did too. An’ he’s been fuckin’ with my tree,” Joel adds.

You roll your eyes. “It’s just a little cat, Joel. Are you being bullied by a tiny little cat?”

“As a matter ‘a fact, yes. I am.” 

You and Joel spend the rest of the day relaxing and watching Christmas episodes of sitcoms together. Joel has you wrap his presents, claiming it’s what you owe him for allowing you and your devil cat to stay. 

In the late afternoon, you and Joel get ready to go to your parents’ house for Christmas Eve dinner. Joel wears a dark green flannel and runs a comb through his hair, and you put on a nice dress, one that hugs your curves beautifully. 

You knock twice on his bedroom door. “Joel?”  

“Yeah, kiddo. C’mon in.” 

“Just wondering if you can zip me,” you ask quietly, spinning around for Joel to pull the zipper up your dress. 

“Can do,” he answers. He puts a hand on your waist and tugs the zipper all the way up, then smoothes out the fabric. “Y’look beautiful,” he tells you. “Know that?”

“Joooel,” you murmur bashfully, elongating his name. 

“I mean it,” Joel says, spinning you around and pushing a bit of hair out of your eyes with his pinky finger and smiling at you, which makes you all flustered. Joel clears his throat then, ushering you out of his room and down the stairs. “M’nervous about leavin’ that cat of yours all alone, you know. If we get home from this and that asshole destroyed my fuckin’–”

You squeeze Joel’s arm. “Relax,” you tell him, but your words do little to soothe the man. The whole time at dinner, all Joel can talk with your parents about is how awful Gizmo is. All the trouble he’s caused, and how you think the little bastard can do no wrong. “Your daughter feeds him,” Joel tells your dad, watching your reaction. You scoff and roll your eyes. “Right from her plate.” 

The night comes and goes, much like it always does. Christmas comes so much faster than it ever used to, and it doesn’t last as long. Joel drives you both home and to Joel’s surprise, his house is in one piece. But not the present he got you. 

“Goddamn it,” Joel grumbles, seeing the gift bag he left under his tree for you in shreds. He picked out a little black cat ornament for you, and thought you’d like it. He put some cat treats in the bag too. Go fucking figure that Gizmo ruins it. 

You help Joel clean up the mess of shredded paper and plastic, all the cat treats are, of course, eaten. “Fuckin’ cat’s probably pukin’ in my bed,” Joel gruffs. 

You put your ornament on Joel’s tree and squeeze his shoulder sympathetically. “You’re thoughtful,” you tell him. 

Joel smiles with his lips pressed together. He’s so ready for this week to be over. He’ll miss you - god, will he miss you when you’re gone, but he will not miss your asshole fucking cat. “How ‘bout another Christmas movie, hm?”

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling. 

“M’takin’ requests. Got any?” Joel opens his entertainment center cabinet to show you his array of DVD’s, the Christmas movies all already set out. 

“This one.” You tap the Bad Santa DVD case. “‘Cause he’s hot.” 

“Who is? Billy Bob Thornton?”

“Mhm,” you nod, smirking. 

Joel makes a disgusted face and gives you a look, but puts the movie in the DVD player anyway. Some of the vulgar jokes make Joel blush, which is uncomfortable for him and entertaining for you. 

When the movie’s over, it’s time to go to bed. For real, too. You and Joel have to be at your parents’ house again in the morning and will likely spend the entire day there, getting no alone time or space from anyone. Joel bids you goodnight and kisses you on the cheek, then heads to the bathroom for a night time shower. He doesn’t wanna fight you for it in the morning. 

Joel keeps only the night light on in the bathroom. He’s exhausted, eyes are dry and stinging with tiredness. He pulls off his t-shirt, unbuckles his belt and slides his jeans and boxers down his legs together, then toes off his socks, yawning as he scratches his balls. In a sleepy haze, Joel gets into the tub and turns on the shower. 

He’s met with that sharp, awful, excruciating pain of claws in his skin, only it’s not in his thighs. Not in his ass. 

His fucking balls. Your cat’s claws are in Joel’s balls, and dragging down his sack. Joel feels like puking as it happens, and at the same time he’s being blasted with cold water as Gizmo panics and scratches his body further. It’s like a cartoon, when two characters fight and it’s just pure chaos - a cloud of screaming and other concerning noises, concerning noises that startle you awake.

“FUUUUUUCK!!” Joel yells, scrambling to get out of the tub. He clutches his scrotum and wraps a towel haphazardly around his waist, feeling dizzy as he bleeds into his palm. “Fuck - y–” 

You fly out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, where Gizmo is clawing at the bottom of the door. “Joel?” you knock frantically. “Joel!”

Joel unlocks the door and Gizmo sprints out, soaking wet and leaving a path of water droplets in his wake. Joel’s white as a fucking ghost. “Joel?”

“H- he-” Joel can’t even get the words out. Still holding his towel in place, Joel checks the palm of his hand and sees a mess of crimson. “Oh my god,” he says with a weakened voice. 

“Joel, what the fuck? What happened?!” 

Joel shakes his head, vision going spotty as he waddles to his bedroom and sits on the bed. You follow him, shutting the door behind you and turning the light on in his room. “Joel.” 

Joel says nothing, only peeks slightly at his crotch. He does his best to protect his modesty with you there but fuck, he’s gonna faint. And unfortunately, you might see more than you should, should that happen.

“Did he scratch you?” Joel only nods, swallowing thickly. “Okay, alright. Where’s your first aid stuff?”

“Bathroom vanity,” Joel chokes out. 

You hurry to the bathroom and grab Joel’s first aid kit, then return quickly to him. 

Joel has a strong stomach, however, the sight of his mangled scrotum is too much for his heart to take. If he looks, he might puke and faint and that’ll make everything worse. “You gotta do it,” he tells you, urgency in his voice. “I can’t look. Cat fuckin’ butchered me. I’m a eunuch.”

“Okay, okay,” you whisper, sitting beside Joel. You take his hand in yours, the one that’s clutching his towel shut. He’s shaking, trembling, and you move it to the side so you can open his towel. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Joel says. 

“You’re fine,” you reply calmly, though in all honesty you’re pretty nervous too. “I’m gonna open up your towel, okay?”

“Yeah, go ‘head and do it. M’so sorry, kid. Jesus christ,” Joel groans. He leans back so that he’s laying flat on the bed, palms pressed into his eyes as his tummy rises and falls with panicked breaths. 

You open the towel and asses the injuries. 

It’s not bad. 

Really. 

It’s not. But you still wouldn’t trade places with Joel, right now. There’s quite a few scratches here and there, some deeper and longer than others. Nothing a little cleanup and some antibiotic ointment can’t fix. “Okay, Joel. I’m gonna be right back, I need to get a soapy rag.” Joel gives you a weak thumbs up. 

You run the water on warm and lather a clean rag with some soap, then return to Joel to wash the scratches. “Might sting,” you tell him, dragging the rag gently over his sack. You do your best to remain professional or something of the sort, to ignore how Joel’s cock thickens at your touch. His thick thatch of hair spattered around the base of his dick, gray, wiry hairs sprinkled amongst the brown. He’s thicker than you would have guessed, longer too, curved so beautifully. And his thighs - gorgeous, toned. Belly is soft, arms are strong. He’s gorgeous, all laid out like this.

Joel’s…Joel is feeling every emotion. Embarrassment, because his best friend’s daughter is between his thighs and carefully tending to his lacerated balls. Rage, because her fucking shithead cat is the reason he’s in this predicament. Aroused, because he’s only a man, and you’re too fucking pretty for him to not get hard from your touch. 

“Are you doing okay, Joel?” you whisper.  

“Ask me later.” Joel wipes some sweat from his brow. “Sorry about the…my…uh…”

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “Didn’t know you were hung like that, Joel.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid, don’t say shit like that.” 

You stifle your laughter as you toss the rag to the side, the bleeding now stopped. You unscrew the cap of some Neosporin, then squeeze a generous amount onto your fingertip. 

“I’m gonna touch you,” you warn. “Just some Neosporin. Okay?”

Joel nods. “Go for it.” He clears his throat when you touch his shaft, moving it slightly out of the way so you can dab the ointment on his scratches. Fuck, he’s struggling to conceal his moans and his stuttered breathing. 

Gizmo hops on the couch then, and headbutts Joel’s bicep. 

“Get that goddamn cat away from me before I put him through the fuckin’ wall,” Joel seethes. 

You don’t push. You know Joel means business, and Gizmo really did fuck up this time. “Psst, Gizmo. Get down. Leave Joel alone,” you whisper, swatting Gizmo onto the floor. “Gizmo’s really sorry,” you murmur, still rubbing ointment onto Joel’s balls. “He didn’t mean to, Joel. He must’ve thought—”

Joel holds up a hand to stop you. “Don’t. Jus’ don’t.”

“Okay,” you whisper. You lift Joel’s ballsack to see if you missed any scratches, but you didn’t. “You’re all done, Joel.”

Joel scoffs, and you stroke his thigh soothingly to calm him. He says nothing, only collects his breathing. His cock is still achingly hard, a pearly, pretty bead of precum at the tip. 

It’s a risk, but you take it anyway. You lean down and press a kiss right against his ballsack, conscious to avoid any scratches inflicted by Gizmo. 

“Woah, woah, woah-”

“Shhh,” you whisper. “Do you want this?”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing.” You kiss Joel’s sack all over as much as you can, and once you’ve exhausted that, you kiss up his hard shaft. “I’m kissing it better.” 

You lick up the length of Joel’s shaft, then circle your tongue a few times around the tip. With one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, you rest the other on his tummy. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel sighs, voice dripping with relief as his hips thrust up, almost as if to chase your mouth. He sits up and reaches for your head, softly dragging his nails over your scalp rhythmically. “You’re a good girl.”

You take his tip into your mouth, working your way down his cock to take him fully inside. Joel tastes salty, sweaty, heady and so masculine, just like you always imagined, and it makes you wet. And you, with your warm and wet and inviting mouth, Joel’s imagination didn’t come close to mimicking this. You bob your head up and down his shaft, bouncing your nose into his pubic hair. 

“Jus’ like that,” Joel grunts. “Attagirl.” 

His words only worsen your growing arousal, and you can feel yourself making a mess of your panties. You fuck Joel’s cock with your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and spitting down his shaft and your knuckles. 

Joel pulls your head away from his cock. “Wait a second,” he tells you. “Wanna look at the mess you’re makin’,” he mumbles, admiring the slick, wet mess of your saliva on his cock. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he murmurs, then pushes you back down onto his cock. 

Joel thrusts into your mouth a bit harshly, though maintaining a certain gentleness to it. He ruts into your mouth, grunting your name as you drool on him, just as he pictured before. 

You reach into your skirt and pull your panties to the side, the cotton is all but soaked with your wetness. Dragging a finger up and down your folds, you moan onto Joel’s cock, sending vibrations down his shaft. 

“Whatcha doin’ there, kiddo?” he rasps. 

“Nothing,” you murmur, pressing kisses against his dick. 

“Sure don’t look like nothin’. C’mere.” Joel pulls you close to him and tugs the zipper of your back down your dress, then helps you out of it. He unclasps your bra and pulls your soaked panties down your legs, clutching them in his fist before shoving them behind his pillow. 

In a swift motion that has you yelping excitedly, Joel flips you on your back, the bed beneath you warm with his body heat. Joel settles between your thighs and pushes your knees back toward your chest. “Yeah, s’it. This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, settling into his pillows. Joel’s hot breath fans over your hot, pulsing sex as he places his large, meaty hands on the backs of your thighs. Fuck, the way you smell has Joel’s head spinning, dizzy with lust. He presses kisses against your inner thighs first, working his way toward your center where he kisses sloppily over your clit. 

“Makin’ a mess of my sheets, y’know that, kid?” Joel teases, admiring the puddle of arousal you’re dripping onto his bed. He feels the heat of your cunt radiating against his face, inviting him in. He squeezes the meat of your thighs as he licks one long stripe up your pussy, then rubs your skin in circles with his thumbs. 

With a flattened tongue, Joel continues licking, rounding your clit before repeating the motion. He memorizes your folds, your taste, your scent. You moan his name and clutch his head against your cunt, your wordless plea for more. 

“I’ll give ya more, sweetheart. I know what you want,” he says, tongue now circling your entrance before dipping inside to taste you. He drags his tongue back up and flicks it up and down over your clit. Urgently, you tug on his graying, dark curls, pleasure blooming in your gut. You’re soaking his face as your climax approaches, thighs twitching beneath his palms. “Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. 

“Let go, darlin’.”

You’re about to come when -

CRASH

It’s a loud, thundering crash, the sound of broken glass and heavy objects hitting the floor. Joel growls against your pussy and violently punches the bed on either side of you before tearing himself away from your cunt and stomping downstairs with a renewed anger for your cat. 

“I swear to fuckin’ Christ,” he fumes, seeing the mess Gizmo, of course, made. You’re right behind Joel, your jaw dropped in shock. 

Ornaments all over the floor, some shattered and others still in one piece. The Christmas tree is somehow in two pieces - god only knows how gizmo managed to do that. The Christmas lights are strewn all over the place and there’s your precious cat, tangled up in the mess. Joel seethes as he makes his way toward Gizmo to free him of the lights, “You get the fuck outta here,” he hisses. 

“It was an accident!”

Joel turns around, chest heaving with his angry breaths. “Not another fuckin’ word,” he says, grabbing you by the arm and forcing you over the leather recliner. Joel laughs without humor when he sees that it’s been further scratched by Gizmo.

He parts your legs with his foot, then lines up with your slick hole and enters you in one swift thrust, the action both mind-splittingly painful and pleasurable. 

“Joel,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to grab at his thigh as he sets a quick, brutal pace. 

“You are…” he starts, “Never…bringing…that fucking cat…here…ever again,” Joel pants, fucking you with anger. “Do you fuckin’ understand me?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper, voice muffled with your face pressed into the chair. 

Joel draws out of you all the way, admiring your milky arousal glistening on his cock underneath the glow of the ruined Christmas lights. He plunges back in, then fucks you harshly. He draws in and out of you so quickly and steadily, the head of his cock brushing over your g-spot with each of his thrusts. “Fuck,” he grunts, pulling you by your hips onto his cock repeatedly. 

He breathes loudly through his nose, fucking fuming with rage as he uses your cunt to relieve himself of the stress you - yes, you caused him. That cat may be Satan’s spawn but he’s still yours. You are responsible for this.

Pleasure builds quickly in you, and Joel can tell. He leans over you to press his fingers against your clit; he doesn’t even have to move them to make you come. Just the pressure and the motion of his rough fucking is enough to send you over the edge, pussy pulsing and gushing on Joel’s stiff cock, making a mess of him.

Joel pulls you against his chest and bites your ear as he pounds into you, chasing his own orgasm. His balls tighten and his body tenses before release, and then he’s spilling into you, spurting milky white ropes of his hot come inside you. “Fuck, goddamn,” he grunts, fucking himself through his climax. When he’s finished, he pulls out of you unceremoniously, your combined arousal spilling onto the ground. What’s another fucking mess to clean up.

Joel rounds the chair and plops onto the couch, pulling you down with him. You yelp as you fall but he catches you in his strong arms and hugs you close against his body, kissing your forehead and cheeks. “I fuckin’ hate that cat,” he tells you, panting. 

Gizmo mrrps then and jumps onto Joel’s lap with you, walking over both of your bodies to greet Joel specifically, bunting Joel’s face as he purrs. 

“He’s really sorry,” you giggle. 

“Yeah, m’sure.” Joel surprises you both and brings a hand to Gizmo’s face, gently petting his head. “I mean it,” Joel warns. “Never. Again.” 

IF YOU ENJOYED!!! Please leave me a comment or say something nice in your reblog, or send me an ask ♡ i love when you make this blog feel like a community ily. ty so much <3 <3 <3

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

OKAY.

I will reblog this version.

Because...

lots of people have tagged me in this...

with a super long list of names... To warn people.

.....

While I do think that's a good sentiment, there's essentially a long list of people here that are like "hey be safe everyone!" But it just gave the harrassers a Long list of people they can try to send gore to.

I'd rather be safe and Omit any names @'d from this.

Hello dear!

Sorry for bothering you, but it's important to remind you to turn off your asks for a few days! Bad things are going to happen on Tumblr soon...

Don t know anything about this but BETTER BE SAFE EVERYBODY!!!!!!

[formulamar]

puppy love (but it’s cats!) part 2

part 1

max verstappen x vet!yn

fc: girls from pinterest

summary: as a Monaco native, Yn has had her fair share of encounters with F1 drivers. and as a vet, she has even fostered close relationships with some of the driver's pets. what happens when she is introduced to a single Max Verstappen who has two adorable cats?

rumorhasitf1

liked by butfirstmax, exusername and 6,083 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 JUST IN 🚨

Max Verstappen spotted kissing a mysterious brunette while on vacation in the Bahamas 👀

1,672 comments

maxisfast: mama a frat boy era max behind YOU 💜

dutch1: call me crazy but she has the same hair length as the girl in barcelona

maxiellvr: that or he just has a type 🤔

vermax: OHHHHHHH AGAIN?

frmlamax: he's just kissing everyone at this point (jk it's been like 2 people)

maxstap1: me 3 drinks in

butfirstmax: and what if it's vetyn...

albon33: i mean she is brunette..

vermax: and so are a million other girls lets chill guys

rbgirl: ANDDDD may he enjoy it *insert Olivia Wilde nodding gif*

maxlovescats: no fr people are acting like he's a hoe or something like his life up until now has been so hyper focused on racing. dating has always been a secondary thing and he's always been in long term relationships let him have some funnnn

rbgirl: TRUTH.

userloves1633: not max's ex in the likes...

30three: honestly it could be that they're back together or that she's not leaving him alone which not surprising considering the break up aftermath.

vetyn

liked by maxverstappen1 and 3,781 others

vetyn: a summer for the books 📖🌅🌊🫧

1,782 comments

ynbestfriend: oh FOR SURE 😏

vetyn: hehe 🤭

f1fan: omg that looks like one of Max's cats

frmlamax: WAIT...

lilymhe: gorg girl I miss you!

vetyn: i miss you so so so much. see you soon tho xx

ynfriend: prettiest girl!

liked by vetyn

maxverstappen1: Paddel rematch?

vetyn: oh you're on but i’ll win!

maxverstappen1: We'll see about that

rbgirl: ARE WE ALL SEEING THISSSSSS

ynsister: THE KITTTTYYYYY 🥰

vetyn: my baby 🥹💞

girlstappen: ok maybe i'm just delulu but that watch looks a lot like Max's

maxlovescats: NO I WAS THINKING THAT TOO

albonooo: omg were you at the Monaco GP???

vetyn: yes ☺️

alexandrasaintmleux: 💕

liked by vetyn

rumorhasitf1

liked by alex_albon, vermax and 6,523 others

rumorhasitf1: Max Verstappen was asked about his new relationship in the media pen.

1,873 comments

lexalbon: NOT ALEX IN THE LIKES???

twenty33three: that really makes me think he was the wingman

maxiellvr: notice how the interviewer says "newly" hehe no ex here!

verstappen4life: true and he looks so re-energized

notmaxver: guys it has to be @/vetyn

userloves1633: THE DIRECT TAG IS CRAZY LOL

frmla1girl: true but i mean the clues are there

frmlamax: he looks sooooo happy aweee

rbgirl: BLUSHING AND SMILING

maxisfast: I hope we get to see them together soon!

ynbff story

[caption 1] new tradition? [caption 2] thank you for letting sassy spend the day with auntie 🥰 @/vetyn @/maxverstappen1

user: yn's bff.... is "auntie" to a bengal...named SASSY AND yn's bff tagged MAX VERSTAPPEN on the story...

user: I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS AHHHHHH

user: wait was this posted on accident i thought they were keeping it lowkey

user: yes I think she didn't mean to post it LMAO

user: the third story omg 💀

user: this is so funny 😭

vetyn

liked by maxverstappen1, ynsister and 14,267 others

vetyn: a very special weekend 💙🦁 met some very cute dogs and reunited with others! oh and my boyfriend was there too!

9,523 comments

ynbff: omg hard launch awesome 😱 so can we just pretend i didnt lowkey leak your relationship on accident 💕

vetyn: right okay…

maxverstappen1: Don’t worry we forgive you

ynbff: THANKS MAX 😄

girlstappen: THE PICTURE 🥹

ynfriend: so happy for you!!!!

liked by vetyn

notmaxver: OHHH I KNEW IT

rbgirl: why is no one talking about the caption i burst out laughing 😭

f1fan: no cause same

dutch1: the drinks same girl

maxiellvr: when cat lovers meet 🐈

liked by vetyn

alex_albon: Where’s my credit?

lilymhe: what are you talking about? this was all my doing? 🤨

alex_albon: I LITERALLY SET THEM UP

vetyn: alex don’t lie!

alex_albon: At this point you guys are just ganging up on me

maxisfast: new wag alert!

frmlamax: cutest couple ever omg

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

a/n: anddd here’s part 2! sorry for taking forever school was really stressful for like 2 months straight but i’m so happy the semester is over 🧚🏻 also congrats to max and kelly on their baby!!!! i think i posted part 1 to this like a week before that was announced lol!

taglist: @anilovessadbooks @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[wandascosmic]

just maybe (9)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part nine of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 3193

tags: swearing, playful mention of sex, an office fire drill, best friends to lovers, idiots already in love to lovers, reader having an insane amount of self-control as always, jealousy jealousy from our favorite sokovian

taglist: @reginassweetheart @rroyale-109 @marvel-posts

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

“Shield Industries, this is Wanda,” Wanda introduces as she answers the receptionist's phone. Upon hearing the voice, Wanda furrows her brows. “Sure, can I ask who’s calling?” The person responds with their name. “Just a second.” Wanda turns to hit a button on the phone. 

Suddenly, your phone begins to ring. “Y/N L/N,” you state, picking up the call. You laugh, hearing that it was your current almost girlfriend. “What, how did you get this number?” You mock with a grin. “Stalker,” you shake your head. 

Wanda’s not sure how she feels as she watches the happy expression on your face from her desk. You seem content with Valkyrie, but something about her just made Wanda feel uneasy. She’s come to the conclusion that she’s probably just protective of you, since you’ve always been her best friend, and since knowing you she had never really seen you in any serious relationships. She simply cared for you, a lot. 

“So we’re still on for lunch?” you ask Valkyrie. “Are you meeting me here? Okay. Great. See you later. Bye,” you finish with a smile, hanging up. 

You were about to get back to work when Wanda calls out to you from across the room. “Hey,” she says, causing you to turn your head towards her, and gives you a small smile. “You can just give her your extension.” 

“Sure,” you nod, before returning to the papers on your desk. 

Wanda frowns. 

***

There was a deafening loud sound reverberating through the entire office. The smoke detector, of course. 

You sigh. You just wanted to get through the day uninterrupted, not including the lunch you had planned with Valkyrie. And, of course, spending as much time as you could with Wanda. Just one normal day, please.

And right on time, Sam begins to shout. “Okay, people, this is not at test! Everybody make your way to the exits!” He calls out. 

“Do not panic!” Tony yells alongside him. “Everyone, just get up from your desks, arms at your side!” 

“This is not a drill, move quickly, everyone, this is a paper company, come on!” Sam screams at the top of his lungs, rather dramatically. If you weren’t at a risk for being set on fire, you would’ve had a witty sarcastic remark ready on the tip of your tongue for him. “This whole place is a tinder box, it’s ready to blow!” 

You’re making your way out the exits, when suddenly Wanda immediately runs towards you and meets the rhythm of your stride, holding your hand. 

You give her a confused look. “Nat says we should have safety partners,” she responds with a shrug. 

“I didn’t hear that–” you begin to say.

“Clear out, stat!” Sam interrupts, sprinting past the two of you and clearly out of breath after screaming out fire safety laws for the past 10 minutes. 

Forgetting your previous statement, you turn to the brunette beside you once you’ve both made it safely to the parking lot outside. “Please tell me we can prank Sam after this,” you tell Wanda, bringing out a huge grin on her face.

“Oh, for sure,” she responds immediately. “In fact, I’m drafting up about 5 plans right now in my mind.” 

You laugh. “Of course you are, Maximoff.” Wanda squeezes your hand in return. 

***

“Okay, you know what?” you call out to the people around you. It had been ten minutes, and you were thoroughly bored of standing around. “I think Wanda and I are gonna set an agenda around here.” 

Wanda nods with a grin. 

Clapping your hands together lightly, you call towards the rest of the office staff. “Can everybody gather up, please? Important announcement.” You say. “I think this is a perfect opportunity for all of us to participate in some really intense,” you pause, “psychologically revealing conversations.” 

You give Wanda a look to finish the rest of your announcement. “So,” she turns to face the crowd. “We’re gonna be playing Desert Island…” 

“”Who Would You Do?” you continue, making Wanda snicker. 

“And, “Would You Rather?”” Wanda finishes. 

“Would You Rather,” you agree. 

You’re about to start the first game, when suddenly, the fire trucks pull in and the firefighters run through the office crowd to get into the building. 

“What’s up, guys, long time no see,” you greet slightly, making Wanda smack you playfully on the arm. “What?” you laugh. 

She rolls her eyes in response. “You’re a dork.” 

You stick your tongue out at her in return, and turn back to the crowd once all the firefighters have made their way through. 

“Okay, so, first, three books on a desert island,” you look around, trying to pick the first person to go. “Nat,” you point. 

Nat squints her eyes suspiciously at the interaction in front of her first, before answering. “The Hunger Games, and a Russian dictionary, to make sure I’m not out of practice.” 

“Okay, you have one more book though,” you say. 

“Rather not,” Nat responds. 

“Okay,” you say with a shrug, and turning towards your best friend. “Wanda, next person?” 

Wanda nods, looking around to pick the right person. “Peter!” she says. 

“Oh,” Peter responds shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, Death by Black Hole, Nonlinear Dynamics and Chaos, and one of the scientific journals I read a while ago but I can’t remember the name.” 

“Alright, that’s pretty cool,” you say. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam retorts immediately. “If he burned them, he would only be warm for like seven seconds. Question, is there firewood on the island?” 

“I guess,” you shrug. 

Sam scoffs. “Then I would bring an axe. No books.”

“That’s actually pretty practical, Mr. Sam,” Peter squeaks out. 

“Peter, you don’t need to agree with the guy,” you reassure. “I never do.” 

Peter nods, shifting his weight on his feet instead. 

You look at Sam once more. “You can’t bring an axe, Sam. Just books.” 

Sam narrows his eyes at you. “Fine, then. Physician’s Desk Reference.”

“Nice. Smart.” 

But unfortunately, Sam continues. “But hollowed out. Inside, waterproof matches, iodine tablets.” Wanda turns to you with an expression that tells you she’s trying not to laugh. You roll your eyes playfully in response. “Beet seeds, protein bars, NASA blanket, and, in case I get bored, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. No, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.” Wanda finally can’t help herself and lets out a small snicker. “Question, did my shoes come off in the plane crash?”

***

Unfortunately, the books don’t last very long since it appears that people don’t read too much in the Shield Industries office. However, you’re definitely remembering Wanda’s answer for her next birthday. 

“Okay, DVDs, five movies, what would you bring?” you ask the crowd. 

Bruce immediately raises his hand. 

“Yes, Bruce?” 

Bruce starts naming all of his guilty pleasure movies, and you and Wanda look at each other while struggling not to laugh. 

“Wow,” you whisper quietly to her as Bruce continues naming his choices. 

“Well, I kind of like–” Wanda whispers one of the movies to you through her quiet giggles. 

“Wanda, you’re misinterpreting this,” you tease gently. “These are desert island movies, you know? Not guilty pleasure movies. These are the movies you’re gonna be watching for the rest of your life! Forever!” 

“I take it back,” Wanda grins, facing you. 

“Unforgivable,” you shake your head. 

“I take it back!” Wanda wraps her arms around yours. 

***

“Wanda,” you turn to the brunette so she’s facing your front. “Your turn, five movies, go ahead.” 

Wanda groans, looking at you with a hopeful expression on her face. “Does it have to be movies? What about sitcoms?” she asks excitedly. 

You hum thoughtfully. “What do you guys think?” you turn to the rest of the staff.

“To be fair, I don’t think Maximoff has seen a single movie in her life, so for her, it should be allowed,” Nat says. 

“Hey!” Wanda says, slightly offended. “I’ll have you know, when I first came here, Y/N took me to see a bunch of your classic American movies.” 

“Oh, did she now?” Nat responds back sarcastically. 

“Okay, come on, guys,” you say past the slight blush in your cheeks. “No need to be hostile. Wanda, go ahead and name your top sitcoms you’d bring to the island.” 

Wanda immediately forgets about the interaction with Nat and starts naming her favorite shows. “Okay. The Dick Van Dyke Show, of course, I Love Lucy, Malcolm in the Middle, Bewitched, Family Ties…Wait, can I bring one more? I love–” 

“Sorry, Maximoff,” you cut off with a grin, causing her to frown. “Five per person, max.” 

“But-” she tries.

You shake your head. “Play by the rules, Wanda. Play by the rules.”

“I’m gonna get you back,” she says, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms tightly. 

“Don’t doubt it,” you respond cheekily. “But, I’ll get you a donut later to make up for it. How about that?” 

Wanda nods, satisfied with your answer and moves to stand next to you once more. 

***

“All right, moving on to the main event, Who Would You Do?” you announce.

“Present company excluded?” Bucky asks. 

“Um, no,” you shake your head. “Not necessarily.” 

Suddenly, a chorus of “Wanda” is heard from the entire crowd, and you look at the recipient seeing how uncomfortable she looks. 

“Okay, um, how about I finish explaining the rules first? Let me explain first–” you try to ease Wanda’s embarrassment, but suddenly, you’re interrupted by something you could have never anticipated. 

Well, who could ever anticipate Sam’s…colorful personality. 

“Everybody Hurts” by REM has begun to blast from Sam’s car, and you look to see him slouching completely lifeless in his driver’s seat.

You try your best to continue past the music. “Yeah, so we’ll get right to— you know what? I’ll be right back. Steve, can you take over for me? Thanks.” 

You run off in the direction of Sam’s car, ready to confront him with Wanda trailing beside you. 

“Sam?” You ask through the open window. Sam simply turns up the music in response. “Sam! Come on, Sam, use words.” 

Sam turns off the music aggressively. “Why didn’t I go to business school?” he asks angrily. 

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Who goes to business school?” you ask, looking over at Wanda who shrugs at you in response. 

“The intern,” Sam says venomously. 

“Peter? He does?” 

“Yeah,” Sam responds scornfully. “It’s all him and Tony talk about now. Tony saw a stupid yellow business school book in his car, swiped him from your game, and now Tony’s completely obsessed with him.” 

Wanda looks at you before speaking, “you know, I bet Peter thinks to himself, “I wish I were a volunteer sheriff on the weekend.”” 

You bite your lip to hold back your laugh. 

“He doesn’t even know that I do that,” Sam rolls his eyes. 

“You should tell him,” Wanda says. 

“Oh, yeah, Wanda. Right. That’s gonna help things, just talk it out,” he scoffs. “I hope the war goes on forever and Peter gets drafted.” 

“Sam,” Wanda states gently.

“What?” you mouth to her through a smile.

She shakes her head at you with an equally amused grin. 

Sam puts his head into his hands. “Fine, I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t— just part of me meant it, okay? Besides, he’d end up being a hero, anyway.” 

You duck your head slightly to hold in the laugh that’s dying to come out. Wanda starts to smile too, looking away slightly to prevent being obvious. 

“You know what you should do,” you say past your grin, an equally amused expression on Wanda’s face. “You should quit.” You cover your mouth with the top of your fist slightly to hide your smile. “And then,” you turn to face Wanda, “that would stick it to both of them.” 

Wanda bites her lip tightly, trying her best to prevent from bursting out into laughter alongside you.

“No, Y/N, I’m not gonna quit,” Sam says completely monotone. “Then Peter wins.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agree, facing Wanda who’s eyes are sparkling with amusement.

Sam puts his hand on top of both yours and Wanda’s, giving you both a grateful expression. “Thanks, you guys. I just need some alone time.” 

“Okay,” Wanda says softly, slowly backing away from the car. 

“Everybody Hurts” starts blasting again from the speakers, and Sam rolls up the window, slouching once more. 

You and Wanda slowly walk back to the group together, laughing loudly together as you finally release the pent-up hysterics you had both been trying to hold back. 

“God, he makes it so easy,” you exclaim. 

“I know,” Wanda grins. “But, we’re definitely still pranking him! I’m so looking forward to it, I have so many ideas I need to share with you. But, you know, after he gets over his breakup with Tony,” she starts giggling again. 

“I can’t wait, Maximoff,” you start snickering loudly alongside her once more.

But suddenly, your moment is cut short, as the source of your unhappiness makes its way in front of you two, and you both stop laughing slightly. 

“Hey, guys, what’s going on?” Vision asks, immediately slinging his heavy arm around Wanda’s shoulders.

“Nothing much,” you respond, shrugging as you put your hands in your pockets, feeling a bit out of place. 

“Hi, Vis,” Wanda says with a smile. 

“Can I hang with you guys for a bit?” Vision asks you both. “The warehouse guys can really be jackasses sometimes, you know?” 

You included, you think to yourself. 

But if he makes Wanda happy, then you’re happy.

***

Much to your secret dismay, you and Wanda have joined the group once more, along with her fiancé. 

“Come on, guys, you know the rules of the game, it’s called “Who Would You Do?”” Steve says in a bit of a frustrated tone. 

“Oh!” Tony claps his hands together. “Awesome, I play this game with my friends all the time. Where are we?” 

“Um–” Steve says. 

“Vision!” Tony points to the new company. “Who would you do?” 

“Oh, I got it!” Vision responds, and Wanda smiles lightly to herself. “What’s the name of that girl who’s always wearing black and has a huge bitch face? The red head?” 

Wanda’s face falls.

“My name’s Natasha,” Nat responds curtly, crossing her arms. 

Vision leans down to face Nat. “Hey, Natasha! I’m Vision, nice to meet you.” 

“You’re a dick,” Nat says simply, immediately leaving and making her way to her car.

Wanda looks down at her feet, feeling uncomfortable. 

“Hey?” you whisper to Wanda. 

Wanda hums in response. 

“Look at Sam,” you tell her, pointing to the figure in the red car, now going back and forth between banging his forehead onto his steering wheel, occasionally letting out honks, and banging his head agains the roof of his car. 

Wanda lets out a laugh, bringing her hand to her mouth in shock. She turns to look at you. “He’s gonna inflict brain damage or something.”

“Well, then he’ll have opened up a whole new world of pranks for us,” you shrug. 

Wanda grins, her spirits lifted from before. 

“Y/N!” Tony calls out. “You’re next. Who would you do?” 

“Um,” you pause. “Steve, hands down. You know, he’s got that cuddly thing going on, and because he’s prehistoric we could just watch bowling after.” 

The group laughs at your joke, Wanda included. 

***

The people playing the games had slightly splintered since Sam had run out of his car in an effort to find Tony’s phone, inside the burning office building, and in his words, simply to make him happy. A couple people got bored, and a few others decided to wait by the door of the building just to make sure Sam got out safely. 

Wanda was surrounded by a few of the female staff, who had decided to continue the game. 

“Definitely Y/N,” a bunch of them said simultaneously. “She’s really cute, and funny.” 

Wanda crossed her arms tightly across her body. 

“What about you, Wanda?” Jean asked. 

“Um,” Wanda looks around. “Probably Steve, too. For the same reasons as Y/N. He seems really nice.”

You’re on a phone call with Valkyrie, walking around the parking lot aimlessly. “Hey, where are you? Oh, good. Yeah, we’re just here, we’re playing Desert Island, five movies.” 

***

Sam had finally reconciled with Tony, after finding out the culprit of the fire, was unfortunately Peter’s cheese quesadilla. The boy looked horrified, and you tried to give him a reassuring look in an unfortunate situation. 

Suddenly, you were met with the sight of a silver car pulling into the parking lot, seeing it was Valkyrie through the windows. 

You walked up with a smile as she parked, rolling down the window to strike up a conversation. 

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling as you leant down to talk to her, her immediately grabbing your arm flirtatiously. “How are you?” 

“I’m good,” she answered, planting a kiss on your cheek. “It’s good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you too,” you responded, smiling. 

“I’m hungry,” she says, referring to your lunch plans. 

“You know, I am too,” you agree. 

“Oh!” Valkyrie realizes, stepping out of the car. “I have been thinking, the whole way over, and I have my answers,” she shuts the door to the car. 

“What answers?” you ask. 

“For the desert island,” she says, leaning back against the car door. 

“Oh, right!” you say excitedly. “Come on.” You grab her hand and lead her over to the rest of the staff. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, gather ‘round, we have one more participant,” you announce. “Be polite,” you say, before turning to Valkyrie. “Desert island, five movies, go.” 

“Okay,” Valkyrie smirks. “First, Legally Blonde.” 

And suddenly, you’re met with the sound of Wanda’s laughter, as that was the guilty pleasure movie Wanda had told Y/N she liked when Bruce had announced it, only for you to tease her in response. 

Unfortunately, after Valkyrie has announced her movies, the crowd had mostly dissipated, and you turn to her apologetically. “Sorry, there was a bigger crowd last time, but you know, great movies,” you say, scratching the back of your neck slightly. 

“Don’t worry,” Valkyrie says, grabbing your arm and running her hand up and down your sleeve. “Wanna just go to lunch?” 

“Sure,” you agree. “Where are we going?” 

“I’m in the mood for Thai, does that work?” Valkyrie responds, getting into the driver’s seat. 

“Yeah, for sure,” you say, closing the door for her before making your way to the passenger’s seat. 

And Wanda narrows her eyes, ‘cause she knows you absolutely hate Thai food. 

Scoffing, she turns back to Vision, and grabs him by the collar before firmly connecting their lips.

You frown at the sight in front of you, and turn your head away.

“You okay?” Valkyrie asks, noticing your expression as you close the car door at your side. 

“Hm?” you respond. “Oh, oh, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You reassure, giving her a small smile past the ache in your heart. 

“Okay,” Valkyrie agrees, giving you a small kiss on your cheek before driving off. 

[sideblogdotjpeg]

post battle, one last short rest

[frys-the-cat]

Aight, here are op's tags but not in an image

#and before one of u is like " i have no friends :(" i used to be there too actually #abusive partner cut me off from ALL of 'em. i didn't think i was lovable #it made me EXCEPTIONALLY shy. i still am actually!!!! #i just ... started saying "yes." #i would take pictures of flyers in my library and go to whatever events they had #i started taking community classes #if someone mentioned like "i am gonna start x group" i actually took a deep breath #and approached them to be like. okay i want in. #i started making the first move with new people - a small compliment #a smile or a little joke. just to share the space with them. #i have MASSIVE social anxiety. bad parent and bad relationship will do that to ya. #but i just... kept going. and going. and going. to each of these little things. and then... #like..... idk i just am very blessed. i have a STUPID number of friends #a lot of which i reconnected with. bc it turns out love is never wasted. adult life just. #like. gets in the way. but also... i loved u as a weird little kid. i love u now as a weird big adult. #i promise i PROMISE ur friends are out there. u just have 2 find them. and btw #i didn't make friends with everyone. but i did get a lot of people to smile or laugh. #aint that something. #this process took me something like 2 years. it was HARD!!!!!!!!!! #i love u!!! hard things are often worth it!!!

having good & true friends will literally save and protect you in a million unfathomable ways. like okay we have written so many times about lovers. but the way a platonic friend laughs and cries with you. the way they hold your hand at 14 years old and at 34. the way they keep a little silver tie to you, touching base over and over and over. how you can go years without talking, only to re-meet and discover: oh shit! you're still cool!

there are people who have been in my life for more than half of it, and i have loved every version of them. do you know how fucking beautiful that is. yeah love will save the world. but the way friends love you is gonna save the you.

[wachtelspinat]

always wanted to post some australia photos so here they are before the year is coming to an end.

in order:

Mundi Mundi Lookout - Silverton, NSW

Hannans North Tourist Mine - Kalgoorlie-Boulder, WA

Tom's Opal Mine - Coober Pedy, SA

Karlkurla Bushland Park - Kalgoorlie-Boulder, WA

Kanku Breakaways - near Coober Pedy, SA

Rawnsley Bluff - Ikara-Flinders Ranges, SA

Echo Point - Blue Mountains, Katoomba, NSW

Head of Bight - Nullarbor Plain, Yalata, SA

Grand Canyon - Blue Mountains, Blackheath, NSW

also a little life update to anyone who's interested:

2024 has been a wild ride all around, and i feel a bit bad when i say that for me personally it had been a blast (except for today and this weekend: first my toilet flusher started being defect (ah yes, getting a mechanic the week before the holidays in germany, why would there be a problem), then a chunk of my phone screen stopped being touch sensitive, then half of my laptop's keyboard stopped working... and when i dared to ask what will break next... i landed a tremendous fall on my way to work today, with my bike and sudden glazed ice on the road, breaking my drawing elbow 👍).

BUT OTHER THAN THAT 2024 has been great in my books.

got laid off at work in march, which gave me the opportunity to do a roadtrip through australia, sth i would have never dreamed of doing on my own, of becoming true. this trip was life-changing y'all. it has altered my brain chemistry.

then i got back at work on part-time basis and holy shit, that was great. sadly i'm involved full-time again but this also made sth click in my head. and it gave me sth back that i've thought having lost last year: my will to draw. this sounds so overdramatic but some may remember my crisis in 2023 because i couldn't shake the thought of my drawing days being over due to work and life being so overwhelming? thank you so much again to each and everyone who left messages back then, it still means a lot, they really helped me to stay grounded during that time. but i'm also here to tell past-me "bitch! you thought you would never find fun and purpose in drawing again? think again!"

this also gave me the courage to apply for tabling again, something that i've long pushed away to the back of my mind bc i never felt confident enough. and what can i say, a friend of mine and me are gonna have a booth next year at leipzig bookfair <3

honourable mentions before it's getting too long: friends got the cutest new dog baby, iceland roadtrip with seeing polar lights for the first time, heidelberg zine fair with lots of crunch time beforehand but this also unlocked sth new in my brain, making zines is so much fun, lots of time again with friends and then... the last issue of the tf2 comic *bless.

thank you to everyone here who i met along the way, who interacts with my art and leaves incredible comments and tags, i love this site so much and its community, you all are wonderful people and i'm really happy that we all share this platform.

i'm wishing everyone who celebrates some nice holidays <333

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

���Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 51!

almost the last fic rec list of the year, can you believe it? like last week, i haven't cross-referenced this list with previous ones, so apologies for any potential double recs!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

before the night fades | MilenaDaniels/@milenadaniels| 8.6k | T

EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night. this fic is one of my favourite outsider povs ever! it does such a wonderful job of capturing our 911 characters as well as fleshing out a lovely cast of ocs <3

chicken alfredo | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 4.6k | T

when Helena laughs at the idea that her son is now able to cook well, Buck ropes Eddie into proving her otherwise. this captures the buddie dynamic so so well <3 also made me hungry lol

do you want me (or do you want me dead) | carpediaz/@sofa-king-lame | 2.3k | T

The one where Buck finds out Eddie wears reading glasses and loses his fucking mind over them, and Eddie knows exactly what he's doing. eddie in reading glasses is a VISION holy shit buck is so relatable in this. i love the silly fun!!

emails i can't send | heartbeatdiaz/@lonelychicago | 6k | T

buck should've known better than to let his email account open and then give his computer to a toddler to play with. i love love love the formatting of this one, with the emails and everything <3 so so good!! they're just french angelfish <3

i took a little journey to the unknown | 42hrb/@exhuastedpigeon | 4.3k | T

“I-it’s okay, you don’t have to talk,” Buck says and the comforting warmth is back on Eddie’s hand. The only thought that rings clearly through his head is that Buck’s hand is safe. Buck is going to keep him safe. “Just - can you squeeze my hand if you’re awake?” this is just such a lovely fic. i love the character study elements and the hand holding and just <3

in the dark (with the stars) | tawaifeddiediaz/@aashiqeddiediaz | 13k | M

Eddie’s relationship with food, anxiety and cooking, as told through the past and present. eddie's relationship with food in both canon and fanon is absolutely fascinating to me. i loved this take on it so much <3

last first kiss | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 3.4k | GA

Buck tries to say goodbye. Eddie isn't ready. frankly i think the best promo i can give this fic is exactly what i said in my comment here, which is "tim minear better be taking notes" because wow it's just that good <3

lucky boy | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 1.9k | T

In which Buck and Eddie are so bad at being in a secret relationship, but instead of show-typical angst, fluff! secret relationship buddie, the gift that keeps on giving <3 exactly the fic i needed on a cold early bus ride this week!!

platonic co-parents don't kiss like we do | thelikesofus/@thelikesofus | 7.1k | M

5 times other people see Buck and Eddie kiss + 1 time they really mean it. i love love love all these different types of kisses <3 the loveliest buddie fic from the perspective of the firefam!!

take what the water gave me | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 20.7k | M

New transfer to the 118, Eddie Diaz, has a secret. And upon getting to know his coworker, Buck, who is also hiding something, he begins to suspect their secret is the same. He's wrong. i've been devouring every little snippet of this fic i've seen on tumblr and i was so so excited to see the full thing land in my inbox! and wow did it not disappoint. such great worldbuilding and such a fantastic characterisation of eddie <3

the bunkroom fic | exvichan | 11.5k | T

The Station 118 bunkroom has witnessed a lot over the years. Private conversations, spats, occasions of affection, joy, and anguish. It’s seen pranks, and games, and camaraderie. It’s even been privy to an unfolding love story or two. It holds the memory of each of these moments. the 118 bunkroom my beloved <3 i love these little moments so much, especially the conversations between the firefam!!

the wayward son | brewrosemilk/@gayhoediaz | 56.9k | E

Eddie misses his son, grows a mustache, pines after his best friend, and becomes a regular at a gay sex club. That last part is either an indulgence or an inevitable, somewhat self-destructive conclusion to several decades worth of compulsory heterosexuality and catholic guilt. Don’t ask him which. i can't even capture the vibe of this fic in just a few lines but holy shit is it brilliant. the most incredibly writing, great characterisation, and also just very hot stuff. an immediate bookmark and new favourite!

[carisc4pshaw]

Office Christmas Party

In which the Hotchner!reader needs a plus one for an office Christmas party and Aaron Hotchner is quick to suggest Spencer accompanying her. (Fluff&Smut!)

word count: 4.4k

tags: office christmas party, one bed, aaron hotchner (dad), fem reader, bisexual reader, elle greenaway, spencer reid, plus one, new york city, christmas movie, room service, falling in love, crush, smut, fluff, elevator kissing, fancy hotel, manhattan, sightseeing, work colleagues, dating the boss’ daughter, girly reader

warnings: elevator kissing, sub spencer reid, dick riding, protected PinV sex

notes: Happy Christmas/ Christmas eve everyone! I hope you enjoy this, I tried my best but I’m still new to writing with a reader. I think I remembered all the tags pls let me know if * missed anything.

—————————💚————————

Two weeks before Christmas you walked into the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI, your shoulder bag swinging as you walked up the small staircase towards your father’s office not bothering to knock before opening the door.

“What have I told you about knocking,” Aaron Hotchner looked up from whatever file he was finishing to see you standing in the doorway.

“My bad? I need help,” you sighed loudly sitting down on the chair opposite him.

“What have you done now? Hotch asked putting down his pen.

You gasped putting a hand on your chest, “That’s rude! I haven’t done anything.”

“Then what do you need help with?” He sat back in his chair looking at you waiting for you to continue talking.

“There’s a Christmas work party out of town next week and I have no plus one and I don’t want to go alone, help me find someone to go with please!”

“Man or woman? You know this isn’t exactly the help you ask your father for.”

“I know but I’m desperate, I’ll take anything, anyone,” You dramatically slumped over on his desk putting your head in your arms that were folded on the desk.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s it? I need to know possible suitors now. Does that hot brunette still work here I saw her once when I came to visit.”

“Who?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Um,” you pictured yourself being back there that day and looking over at her desk, “Elle!”

“Yes.. she works here but she’s a little old for you?”

“She doesn’t look old, how old is she?”

“29.”

“Dad that’s only eight years difference. I’ve dated older people than that.”

“I have Elle on a special assignment in Texas next week but you’re more than welcome to ask her on a date another time I suppose…” Aaron said before adding, “What about Spencer?”

You pondered for a moment, “Look I like him he’s got that sexy nerd vibe.. also he looks like he’d be clueless but so good in b-“ You stopped what you were saying remembering you were speaking to your father, not a friend, “Nevermind. Do you think he will ramble a lot I don’t know if the other workers will like it, they are nowhere near as smart as him and I don’t want them to say things about him.”

“He does talk a lot but I thought you liked that plus he’s closer to your age,” Hotch made his point after shaking his head at your words, he wasn’t born yesterday he knew exactly what you were about to say and he did not like it at all.

“I suppose, there’s going to be models, influencers and fashion magazines we work with there though… I guess Spencer isn’t too bad he has a grandad kind of style going on people and by people I mean me, find that quite hot nowadays.”

“Look I have a job to do if you’re going to ask him just ask,” He said looking back at his file, “Aren’t you meant to be at work?”

“The company are scouting new models today I’m not required to be there, I don’t do that.”

“Right, well speak to Spencer and tell him I’ll give him extra time off with pay since he’ll be entertaining you. Where is this party?”

“New York. The company convinced Lilia Archer to go. I’m so excited she’s awesome.”

“Lilia Archer? Mention her and Spencer will be there I’m sure.”

“What do you mean? He’s got like a crush on her?”

“We had a case she was involved with last year, Spencer kissed her.”

“What?” you asked shocked but also with a hint of jealousy bubbling in your stomach.

Aaron laughed, “It was… unexpected.”

“You can say that again,” you picked up your bag, “I’ll see you later dad, love you.”

Hotch stood from his chair and walked around the corner of his desk pulling his daughter into a hug, “I love you too.”

You left the office walking down the stairs while looking around to see if you could spot Spencer.

You finally found him over by the coffee machine pouring an unnecessary amount of sugar into his coffee, “Spencer?”

The man turned around quickly hearing his name spoken so softly by a voice he recognised, “Y/N! Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I was actually looking for you,” you started.

“You were… Why?” His lips pressed into a straight line as his eyebrows knitted together.

“Are you busy next week? On Friday and Saturday?”

“I mean yes, I’ll be here…”

“And what if my father gave you some time off?” you smiled with hope.

“What’s going on?”

“I need a plus one for a Christmas party in New York, Please be my plus one Spence,” you clasped your hands together grinning widely.

“I’m not sure it’s really… well my scene, you work in fashion with models and I don’t usually go to parties.”

“Please Spencer, Lilia Archer is going to be there apparently,” you smirked a little.

“Oh I definitely cannot go, she’s got a boyfriend it will just be awkward,” Spencer frowned.

“Fine, I’ll have her uninvited or something? Please Spencer, If you don’t want to share a room with me I’ll pay for you to have your own.”

“What, no, you don’t have to spend your money on that I don’t mind sharing i-if that’s okay with you, of course!” Spencer stuttered getting nervous.

“So you’re coming?” the wide smile reappeared on your face.

Spencer sighed, “I guess so, what do I need to take?”

“Can I have your keys?”

“What why?” Spencer’s eyes widened.

“I have a day off, you are always busy and I will pick good outfits, it’s literally my job, I’ll go pack for you,” you put your hand out waiting for his keys.

“But I haven’t tidied up, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Spence you’re a clean freak your meaning of messy is everyone else’s spotless clean.”

“Just stick to the wardrobe, don’t snoop around I know what you’re like,” Spencer said as he handed over his keys.

“Yes Doctor Reid, oh yeah if it wasn’t obvious you’re going as my boyfriend,” you kissed him on the cheek before walking off not giving him time to respond.

“What’s going on there pretty boy? The big boss wouldn’t be too happy if he saw that,” Derek said as Spencer’s blush deepened on his cheeks.

“I thought she was into me…” Elle added.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t turn down a night with both of you,” Derek winked at the brunette.

“You’re disgusting,” She rolled her eyes going back to typing on her computer.

——————

When Spencer returned home from work the next day, he opened the door to see his apartment fairly clean with his books that didn’t fit in the bookcase stacked up in alphabetical order as well as some cookies on the kitchen counter and as he went into his room he saw the open suitcase on the bed with a note by the side.

I hope you like everything I’ve packed and you enjoy the cookies I made you. I’m trying to be a good ‘girlfriend’ ;)

Y/N <3

Over the next few days, You only came into the office once to give Spencer another note that contained your phone number so you could communicate about where to meet before flying to New York.

On the day of the trip, Spencer drove to your apartment at 6 am, your flight was at 8:30 am but your apartment was a 20-minute bus ride from the airport meaning it was the best place to meet.

Spencer knocked on the door and waited a few minutes before knocking again.

“Spencer there’s a key under the mat!” You called through the apartment. The man rolled his eyes, you had probably woken up your neighbours and just told them where you had been hiding your spare key although by the look of the building it may have soundproof walls or a least more soundproof than his were at his apartment.

He took the key and unlocked the door, stepping inside to see you in the kitchen with your hair in rollers, drinking a cup of tea with multiple outfits hanging up around the house.

“I take it you aren’t ready?” Spencer said.

“Good morning my love, nope almost just need to pick the airport outfit!”

“I like the second one,” He shrugged.

“Hm, I think I’ll go with the fourth.”

Spencer shook his head with a laugh, “Please don’t be long we don’t have much time.”

“Don’t stress it’s all cool,” you picked up the coat hanger that had a pair of black Victoria's Secret sweatpants, a white tank top and an off-the-shoulder sweater on, “Make a coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

Every minute that passed Spencer checked his watch getting more anxious until finally 15 minutes later you left your bedroom with a suitcase and 2 bags with your hair curled and your outfit on.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” you said grabbing your phone and walking over to the door.

——————

You and Spencer stood outside the hotel and spa, it looked fancy and definitely out of his price range, Spencer thought to himself.

“Ready for 2 days of fun boyfriend?” You smirked pulling your suitcase through the glass door of the hotel.

Spencer followed closely behind you holding one of your bags. He let you check in before you went to your room on the top floor.

“Woah this is huge!” you said looking at the hotel room’s super king-sized bed.

“It’s a nice hotel, how much did you pay for this?” Spencer asked leaving his suitcase next to the left side of the bed.

“I didn’t, my boss did. I’m pretty sure she booked out the whole hotel for the party.”

“So,” Spencer sat down on the bed after removing his shoes, “What exactly is the plan?”

“What plan?” you raised an eyebrow sitting down next to him and picking up the room service menu.

“Why am I here?” Spencer kept to the edge of his side of the bed.

“To be my plus one for the party tomorrow night, maybe you can show me around the city, dad said you’ve been here more than a few times for cases.”

“That’s it? You just wanted a plus one? There was no hidden meaning? I’m sure you could have found someone better looking on a dating website.”

“I like nerdy guys, plus you’re a fancy FBI agent,” you turned to look at him biting your lip before giggling, “I think we are going to have fun, wanna explore the hotel?”

“Maybe later, I want to stay here for a few minutes since I’m going to have to start using my social battery soon.”

“Okay suit yourself, I’m going to meet some of my friends I won’t be longer than an hour,” you said getting off the bed and heading out of the door.

Spencer sighed once he heard the door close, his head falling back against the headboard. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had a crush on you but he knew you were totally off-limits, you were Hotch’s daughter after all.

His head felt dizzy picturing the way you had looked at him while biting your lip even if it was jokingly it still made his head spin and his blood rush to his cock.

Spencer took it upon himself to take a cold shower, he needed one after the flight anyway so why not kill two birds with one stone?

You walked back into the room at the same time as Spencer opened the bathroom door with a towel wrapped just around his waist.

“Hello to you too, what a nice surprise,” you winked at him with a laugh.

“Shut up,” the man walked back into the bathroom closing the door, “I thought you were going to be an hour.”

“Got bored, assumed you’d want to go out or get something to eat maybe? Do you find if we swap rooms I need to pee.”

“Oh, oh sure,” Spencer opened the door again, “Food sounds good. Could you stay in the bathroom until I’m dressed?”

“Sure if it makes you more comfortable,” You smiled going into the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Spencer got dressed as he called into the bathroom, “I’m paying for our food, you can come out by the way.”

You opened the bathroom door, “You don’t have to Spence, my father gave me some money to spend here.”

“Use it to buy something nice, I want to pay for dinner,” Spencer smiled at you.

“Fine I’m not going to turn that down again,” you laughed and grabbed your purse.

——————

You and Spencer had lunch and stayed out exploring the city until 5 pm when you headed back to the hotel.

“Are you sure you’re okay ordering room service for dinner?” You asked Spencer for the 4th time since you had been walking back to the hotel.

“Yes I’m fine with it,” Spencer laughed and rolled his eyes pushing their room door open.

Just as he was about to close the door he heard a feminine voice calling ‘Wait’ Confused, he waited, by this point, you had gone into the bedroom.

“Oh!” The woman spoke, “I’m so sorry I thought this was my friend's room.”

“You’re a friend of Y/N?”

“Yes… and you are?”

“Spencer,” he smiled, “Y/N, someone is at the door for you.”

You groaned and came out of the bedroom with your sweater off, you looked extremely good in the white tank top you had been wearing under the sweater.

“Laura! Oh hey; Laura this is my boyfriend Spencer, Spencer this is my boss Laura.”

“Boyfriend?” Laura looked confused, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes…” points to Spencer, “Boyfriend.”

“Oh well, I guess you don’t need to come to the club with me and a couple of the others to find plus-ones then,” Laura laughed.

“Nope, no clubbing for me, Spence and I are going to have a movie night, order room service and have lots of cuddles,” you grinned.

“That’s cool have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow, or I’ll text you if I get lucky,” Laura winked before leaving the room.

You closed the door and Spencer eyed you curiously, “I wouldn’t have minded if you went out.”

“We have plans did you not hear?”

“You were being serious you want a movie night with me?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“And cuddles,” you smiled before returning to the bedroom, “Can you order room service while I take a shower?”

“Of course, What do you want?”

You hummed, “Carbonara, margarita pizza, red wine and chocolate brownie with ice cream. Oh and ask for bottled water.”

Spencer laughs, “I’m guessing this gets charged to your boss?”

“You guessed right, order what you want. I love her but I love spending money more,” You giggled going into the bathroom and turning the shower on.

You walked out of the bathroom in your towel, “Sorry I forgot to take my pyjamas through.”

Spencer cleared his throat, “It’s fine um room service will be 6 minutes and roughly 17 seconds.”

——————

The two sat in the living room area of the room eating their meals and sharing a few bites with each other.

You both went back to the bedroom to watch TV and just as you were about to climb into the bed you took off your dressing gown revealing your silky pyjamas which consisted of a low-cut tank top and short shorts.

Spencer’s face went a little red as he cleared his throat, “That's what you chose to bring?”

“Is there a problem with them?” You asked looking down at your clothes.

“No, no, no problem you look really um great,” he wanted to continue his ramble but you stopped him.

“You can tell me I’m hot baby,” the younger woman winked.

“Stop that, let’s just watch the movie,” Spencer spoke desperately.

“Fineeee,” you said dragging out the last letter as you switched the TV on.

At some point during the movie, you fell asleep on Spencer’s arm. Once he realised you were sleeping he switched off the movie and fell asleep beside you.

The next morning, you woke first with a groan, you smiled as you tilted your head up to see Spencer sleeping. He looked so perfect as he slept. You weren’t sure if having thoughts like that were sweet or creepy.

You pulled back the duvet to go to make some tea. By the time you came back, Spencer was starting to wake up.

“Sorry, I didn’t make you anything I didn’t know when you’d wake up,” you said getting back into bed.

“That’s fine, good morning,” He smiled trying not to move.

“Good morning, is everything okay?” your eyebrows knitted together in curiosity.

“Yeah I’m fine, just uh disorientated… give me a few minutes to wake up.”

“Man troubles?” you caught on and raised an eyebrow.

Spencer choked, “What?”

“Oh come on I wasn’t born yesterday Spence, I’ve had boyfriends. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He covered his face with his hands, “It is embarrassing but it will go away. What time is it?” Spencer asked changing the subject.

“Only 7:30 but Dad will call at 8 to check on me,” you rolled your eyes,

“And then I’ll go back to sleep for a bit.”

“What time are you getting up?” Spencer said, he was used to getting up long before this time most mornings but it wouldn’t hurt if he had a lay-in for once. It wouldn’t usually be his thing but these beds were extremely comfortable.

“Before noon? The party starts at 5 pm so I’ll have more than enough time to get ready,” You placed the empty mug on the bedside table and waited for Aaron to call you in the meantime Spencer had fallen back to sleep.

—————

When you both woke up again, you had slept slightly past noon. Spencer had a few missed calls from the team, he instantly felt guilty that he wasn’t available to answer his phone if they needed help but it didn’t take long for you to convince him that it was his day off and he didn’t have to be on call all the time.

After a lot of stressing about curling your hair and making sure your make-up was perfect, you were almost ready. The last thing you had to do was put your dress on.

Spencer was waiting on the small sofa for you to finish getting ready. When you walked out of the bedroom in the long sparkly dark grey strapless dress his mouth almost fell open and his eyes were glued to you, his pupils dilated.

“I have some rules, well if you agree to them, we have to actually act like a couple… you know kissing and stuff and I want you to be yourself… earth to Spencer?” you waved your hand in his face when you realised he wasn’t actually listening to you and his eyes were locked on your body, “See something you like?” you laughed.

Spencer nodded his eyes still barely moving as if he was in a trance.

“Wanna take it off? I don’t mind being late,” you smirked.

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts at your words, “What? No, I can’t, you just look good, you look nice, um hot?”

“Thank you,” you tilted your head to the side with a smile, “So you’re fine with kissing?”

“Totally fine, I mean I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time, I might be bad. I really hope I’m not.”

“Spence, you’ll be fine.”

——————

You had no problem introducing Spencer as your boyfriend to your work colleagues making him wonder if you had done this before, what he wasn’t prepared for though was how highly you spoke of him and the sparkle in your eyes which to him would suggest that you really meant what you were saying. However, when you spotted Lilia Archer across the room you changed. It wasn’t that you seemed shy because you were anything but shy, but until Lilia spotted both you and Spencer it was like you was trying to hide.

You were the first to notice Lilia walking toward the both of you and your first instinct was to pull Spencer closer to you, your lips landed on him in what was meant to be a quick kiss to make Lilia feel at least a tad bit jealous but the kiss didn’t stop at a quick peck.

The two of you felt a spark run through you that neither of you could explain but you both didn’t want it to end.

Once the genius remembered that you were at a party with hundreds of people and not alone in your hotel room he removed his hand from the side of your face and pulled back from the kiss.

His hand fell beside him, catching your hand in his not long after, “That was interesting…”

“It was.”

“Did you mean it or was it because Lilia was coming?”

You shrugged, “A bit of both I wanted to make her jealous but I did mean it, I think you’re attractive and I know I'm not anywhere near as pretty or cool as Lilia Archer-“

“Stop talking like that. You’re perfect how you are, the only reason I didn’t do that first was that I thought for sure no one as confident as you would want someone… like me. And the other reason is Hotch, he is my boss.”

“Come on Spence you’re the most perfect gentleman I’m sure Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, would be more than happy if his daughter was dating his favourite boy genius.”

Spencer took a small step closer to you despite the lack of distance between you already. He cupped your cheeks lowering his head to give you another kiss.

“I know we’ve only been here for an hour but do you want to get out of here?” you said with a giggle.

“Lead the way.”

——————

The two of you couldn’t keep your hands or your lips off each other in the elevator to your floor or in the hallway toward your room.

Once the hotel door was closed you pushed Spencer up against it, kissing his lips passionately as you fiddled with his tie trying to get it off in a hurry.

You swiftly moved on to unbuttoning his shirt once the tie was off, your lips were still connected but now your tongues were invading each other’s mouths.

Separating from each other to take a couple of breaths, Spencer removed his shoes while you kicked your heeled shoes off removing a few more inches between yours and Spencer’s height.

“Bedroom?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers together.

“I didn’t bring condoms with me, I didn’t plan for well this,” he said with a laugh.

“I always have some with me just in case,” you said as you entered the bedroom immediately finding one in your bag while Spencer removed his pants.

“At least you’re prepared, now come here I love that dress on you, you look beautiful but I want to take it off,” Spencer spoke with a rasped tone, his hands running up and down the curves of your waist and hips once you were standing in front of him.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

Spencer stood up from the bed spinning you around to find the zipper at the back of the dress, when he pulled it down he was met with your bare back meaning you had no bra on and only a lace g-string.

Spencer couldn’t help a quiet moan escaping his mouth when you turned back around showing him your exposed top half.

“You’re beautiful,” he said kissing your lips once again his hands finding your breasts.

A few moments later the both of them were fully undressed nothing left on their bodies.

“Can I put it on?” You asked holding up the condom packet.

“Please,” his voice was slightly strained he was so desperate to be inside of you, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

You ripped open the packet wasting no time before sliding the latex over his cock as a groan fell from his lips.

“Can I be on top?” you asked him.

“You want to ride me?”

“Yes, please?” you gave him a puppy dog-eyed gaze earning a nod from him.

“I’m not going to say no to that,” Spencer held your thighs as you positioned yourself in the right place before slipping his cock inside of you.

You moaned as he penetrated you further. Once fully inside of you, you took a deep breath.

“Am I hurting you?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“No! I just need a second,” you slowly began to move up and down your hands placed on his chest to maintain your balance.

Spencer moaned with each small movement, the warmth from your insides felt incredible wrapped around him, he fit perfectly inside of you.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised him as his hip started to jerk in a rhythm that matched your pace.

“I can’t last much longer, you feel so good,” Spencer moaned against your lips, when you leaned down to kiss him his cock angled even deeper instead of you.

You could barely open your eyes as you said, “I’m almost there.” The way you spoke triggered something in Spencer that made him remove one of his hands from your back and move it so his thumb would brush against your clit in circles.

With a few more sloppy thrusts caused by his hips that grazed your g-spot each time combined with him rubbing hard circles against your clit, the both of you came at the same time both with moans so loud anyone would be able to hear them through the walls.

You didn’t pull him out of yourself until you had fully gotten your breath back.

“Oh my god,” you sighed lifting off him and rolling into the space beside him, covering half of your body with the thin duvet.

“Good, oh my god? or bad?” Spencer asked pulling you close to him.

“Definitely good, so good,” You answered.

“Okay good because I agree, you were amazing,” Spencer pecked your lips softly.

“I hope you plan on being my plus one again,” you spoke quietly running your fingernails down his naked chest.

He pulled the duvet up to cover your body a little more, “I certainly plan on it.”

[wings-of-ink]

Alright, everyone!

HERE ARE THE ASKS YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR

Below the cut are the asks and my answers/responses. I do apologize for not answering these individually, but some of them contain spoilers for chapter 5 content. Given the developments and reveals of the chapter, I want to let things simmer a bit before I pop off responses like normal.

If my Nonies listed below want to pop back into the ask box and let me know they got their answer, I would appreciate that, but you don't have to either (or if you have an additional question or comment, that's fine too!). I will reblog this a few times to make sure you have a higher chance of spotting it.

I numbered the Asks and put my answers in another color so you can tell things apart a bit easier. This is a trial run on answering these this way. I will also tag things for spoilers. ^_^

Anon:  "There's a she-wolf in the closet" made me laugh so hard I cried sdfjglkjl I was not expecting that out of nowhere ��😭  the temptation to name the wolf Shakira...............immense.

I'm so glad you got that reference! My husband and I sing that song to each other with the little "awoos" and all, lol. It was too good to pass up. Fun fact, if you name her Shakira, Oswin has a unique response. 

2. Anon:  Hmmm. "I like the name Aster I'll probably use it again" HMMMMM hMMMMM hmmmMMMM Is this new Aster the ??? RO

Remembered that, did ya 😁 (I was quietly cackling when I wrote that for the old ask). You questioning Aster just makes me want to mess with you Nony, you can't tempt me like this! 

3. Anon:  Aster is so hawt, carressing our cheek w his thumb???? "i wont hurr you" pls let him be an ro bc gah damnnnn

Glad that did it for you, Anon, lol. There will be more of that in store. ^_^

4. Ravioli anon here, hope you remember me LOL I just finished reading the new chapter and I HAD A BLAST The whole gang in here now!!!!!! Aster is no longer question marks!!!! (I will admit when they were introcuded I almost, ALMOST expected their name in game to just be ???)

Hello Ravioli! Still chuckling about that I hope you know. The temptation was unreal to leave ??? in there, lol. At this point, even I know him more by that than his name!

Also to keep up with my perfect choice of names, my she-wolf is now named Der, because together we are Ravi and Der Get it, Ravi 'n Der. Consider this as a way to honor our dear grandma we were named after by our loving dads, you'll never be forgotten, you girlboss of a woman 

OMG, you are killing me over here, lol. This makes me want to code something for that, lol. Just your fathers shaking their heads at your MC while still being kinda amused and weirdly proud. Grandmother Ravinder would glare at you, but smile later.

5. @origamihoshi: Screaming about the necklace Oswin gives MC, my headcanon about MC wearing the snail shell as a necklace can now be canon! and I guess more reasons for my MC to be down bad for Oswin oops. I'm loving the update! I'm so happy to finally meet Rune, I love them so much! I wanna befriend them all. and I feel like there's been a good balance to spend time with all the characters so far and that makes me really happy. 😌Also cuddling with Zahn was so sweet oh my god, I love them so much too! I got so many more questions about MC and the curse, and the mark for that matter, looking forward to when we finally get some answers.

I very, very nearly told you that when you posted your MC, I was so ecstatic. I thought if you while coding that section too. I am so glad you enjoyed the new chapter and new goodies. Lots of fun stuff to come! ^_^

6. @mutsuowo:  HELP I NAMED THE SHE-WOLF ASTER BECAUSE I FIRST CALLED THE MULE YARROW AND NOW I HAVE NOT ONE, NOT TWO BUR THREE ASTER* GOING AROUND (I know one changed to Lakota but the joke that count)

Whoops! Lol Sorry my friend! I don't think any more Asters are hiding about at least. Probably….

7. @mutsuowo: I got spoiled of Aster's name by accident and even then I mistook it for being Lakota, so I thought somehow Lakota had a divorce and took the children to be an option romance with the MC. Cue to me acting like a variety game host and going "We have a cult member, a magician, childhood friends and also a wolf...what about you Aster ? What do you bring to make we choose you ?" The answer was being a DILF

Lol! Oh dear, yeah, bestie has a quarter-life crisis and leaves his wife and 4 kids to live that DILF life. Love it, this is some quality daytime TV stuff. 😆 

8. Anon:  Hello there! I am currently in the middle of the newest chapter, very very good work! Spoiler ahead : So MC is absorbing magic? That might actually help the theory that somehow MC is a god, demi-god, or whatever that is: cursed because they are on this plane and needing magic as a very part of their being? I can't imagine that a god wouldn't be starving for magic if deprived of it. Perhaps in GC it's not magic gods handle, but something similar? The fact that we CHOSE the mark truly makes me think that somehow we were choosing an aspect of ourselves for some reason. Not only something physical either. If not our domain, perhaps a tell of why we were cursed in the first place ? I wonder if, before the Curse manifested, MC would have been flagged as a magic being ? I don't think there was anybody that could have sussed them out back then though ? Rune is amazing, btw, big fan. Can't wait for Purple Lad to accompany us and need a bath as badly as Duri did !

Oooh, are you perhaps my Nony who sent some other theories in about this? Very juicy theory as well. Next chapter you'll learn a bit more about Hayat's curse over the gods and see if it lines up or changes your thoughts more. 😁 I'm glad you like Rune too! They are in for a new experience for sure. Even if they aren't as stuffy as other nobles, they definitely appreciate more refined things. The little town MC grew up in might be a bit of a culture shock. 

9. Anon:  Sooooo... I'm thinking we ARE the mad god ! A reincarnation of it at least ! Thinking about how the cult wanted us dead, I am thinking that as long as MC is alive, they can't have another incarnation of them.   But What exactly was it that drove the god mad ?

Oooh! This one is juicy too! These theories are so tasty! Lots of questions with this one. And like the one above, there may be some info in chapter 6 that may just give more evidence one way or another.

10. Anon:  Me on my first playthrough: oh, Oswin's pretty cute! I think I'll try romancing him first Me when I meet Zahn: oh no you can't just make me choose like that how am I supposed to do this Me when I meet Duri: are you kidding me. Ok screw it I'm romancing Duri Me when I meet Rune: FUCKAIJASJDSAAA Me when I meet ???: No reaction because I'm already combusted. I can't even anymore 

Lol! I am glad and maybe just a tiny bit sorry that you're so torn, my dear. Let's find some glue and get you patched up… ^_^

11. Anon:  HAVE THEORIES! NATHAN IS DURI'S UNCLE, AND ASS-TER -HE DESERVES THAT AFTER THE RING BUSINESS >:( - WAS RAISED BY THOSE ASSHOLES WHO ALMOST KIDNAPPED MC! (I am open to Asster endearing himself later, but I'm mad at him rn, how dare he hurt my already hurt, lovely, MC 😡😡😡) Anyway, your writing is impeccable as always, can't wait to (perhaps) bring Asster to his knees (with love or spite, or maybe both?? He seems like someone easy to love-hate, lol). Tysm, for God Cursed, I love it <333

Yaaass, moar theories! That's a good one too! Nathan having some secrets wouldn't be shocking either. They'd get along too… And it is totally fair for MC to be salty! And ASSter is a perfect nickname, lol. It's also fair that in chapter 6 you'll be able to (try to) get after him about it. :3

12. Anon:  TW SPOILERS ''There is nothing I want more than to hear you…hear you say what you- Nothing more… But for your own sake. Y/N, I'm a monster. I have been a monster. Your heart should be free of thoughts of me until you know what haunts my sleep at night. If you can do that for me and your heart does not change, then I will hear those words and I will spend the rest of my days showing you what you mean to me.'' UUUUHHMMMMM, EXCUSE MEE?????? LIKE THIS IS THE MOST-ROMANTIC-NON-LOVE-CONFESSION I HAVE EVER HEARD??? EVEN THOUGH IT BURNS ME TO NOT KNOW WHAT AFFLICTS OSWIN, AFTER HEARING THAT I'M WILLING TO WAIT FOR HIM.

I love that you love this! I might have cried juuuust a little bit when I wrote that scene, lol (shocking, I know).

13. Anon:  replayed the IF from the start for the update and gosh i felt so bad for our dear MC who has gone through SO much in a (relatively) short amount of time. and the way MC just always thinks about their fathers makes me sobbbbbb. one that always gets me is the scene where MC cried out for their fathers when they were in pain (my heart broke when they said they wanted to be held by their papa). another is in the scene with jasper and co. (‘i learned it from my fathers!’, yesss go MC!!!!). but oh, just imagining the absolute heartbreak the fathers would feel if they knew how MC cried out for them and knew about everything that MC went through, makes me tear up! MC is SO loved by their fathers and MC loves them just as much and i love that. i hope we’ll be able to give da and papa the biggest hugs when we see them again 🥹wonderful update, author! i absolutely adore the world you’ve built and the brilliant characters you’ve created (shout out to one my favs.. our new she-wolf friend <3)

I set out on this IF journey intending to be a bit hard on the MC and I think I succeeded, lol. It might be hard to believe but I really do love the MC as a character too and I feel for them. Hopefully not too hard, but they're on a journey of perseverance so I have faith in them. ^_^ That scene really tore me up too, especially thinking about how hard it would hit the dads to know their beloved kid was calling out to them. 😭 I am so glad you enjoyed the update, my dear, there will be great big dad-hugs in the future, I promise (and more than a few tears). ^_^

14. Anon:  idk if it's choice or route-specific but, zahn was NOT looking good at the end of chapter 5 and i'm worried 😟

Not route-specific (unfortunately???)…they're…going through some things. 😬 (sorry in advance)

15. Anon:  Hi, hi!! Dropping by to blabber about the update after i've finally had time to lose myself in it! (Oh no it got long again.) Okay, so, from the very moment i saw your intro post (over half a year ago, methinks) i decided to go for Rune's route first. I have been very patient, very faithful. And now i can finally say it was so, so worth the wait!!! they have me wrapped all around their beautiful noble finger; they're perfect, they are everything (i mean, how many people can say a literal god shows up for their birthday? yeah, thought so). I know they are no exception either and have their own share of issues, but honestly? that's even better. I wish i was kidding about the amount of times i daydream about them. Look at me now how i'm smiling like a stupid idiot. And the fact that i can make my MC an absolute shy mess around them is just so!! *chef's kiss* 

"Oh no it got long again" is like the tagline for my existence, lol. I am so giddy that you adore Rune! I think they've had less traction since they weren't introduced until now, but I also believe they are just the type of person that is better experienced. I enjoy writing all of the ROs, but Rune is such a presence in my heart and I really hope that comes through.

Also, did Duri seriously rat them out like that? Umm, for science, of what nature, exactly, are the books under Runey's bed?

LOL and I'm so glad you caught that bit about their "hidden literature." Rune LOVES romance novels, including the ridiculous smutty ones even if the plot is kinda bad.

Anyway, moving on, because you fed us so well with the story once again!! Can i just say i love your brain? Can i? Is that weird? Apologies. So!

You can totally say that, lol. I appreciate that you think so, my brain frustrates me sometimes, but I like how smooth it is. Very soft.

We learned so much in this update, and yet our answers are still too far to reach--but that's the whole fun about this! I'm thinking things, i'm suspecting, but i'll hold onto my theories for now… It is indeed very fortunate that each of MC's new friends can seemingly contribute a piece to this vexing puzzle; question is, is the picture only missing the very last piece, or are all four needed for it to be complete? I'm folding my hands and patiently waiting to find out in future updates. 

Oooh, you're speaking my language, Nony. There are some theories up above, maybe those will get your mind spinning too. That's a very good question though too. Eveyone seems to have something that might help MC out…so the question could be, do they go full Power Rangers and combine them to solve this problem or is one strong enough on their own? Hmmmmm? Time will tell.

One thing i will say is, more people may know about MC and their whole deal than Oswin may want to even consider. People with not the best intentions, that is.

I'm sure it's fiiiiiine. Probably just a…crazy…crazy fluke. It's fine. 😀

Speaking of, Oswin is so sweet! He cares so much i think it's rending him apart. Perhaps he should partake of Nathan's pipe every now and then. You know, for recreational purposes. Frankly i admit i don't know how mean you still can be to Oswin because every time there's a choice during his scenes i just tunnel-vision to the friendliest one there. It really makes me feel sorry for him if there are MCs out there who are still bitter about their relationship. As he was opening up about what kinds of actual horrors he witnessed and had to deal with in consequence, it really made me think MC's little group should, as a side-quest, go out and find him a therapist, because this guy *slaps him on the back* can fit so much trauma in him!

That's a good way to describe Oswin. He feels very intensely and those emotions are difficult for him to manage. I try not to be too mean to him, but I do want to try and give a decent variety of responses to the past tension for some MCs. Negativity there isn't a huge focus, so I try not to go too far down the rabbit hole with it at least, lol. A therapist is a great idea for him, for real. You cracked me up with that reference, I imagine Lakota trying to sell him to the MC, lol.

 I see Zahn has entered the trenches(TM). Just after i had them repeatedly stabbed in MC's place. And just after they finally got to cuddle with MC. This is fine. Not gonna lie, for a solid second you had me believe we wouldn't see them come back from that totally not evil or at least highly doubtful church of theirs, and that we'd had to leave without them. Haha, no waay. Lunan wouldn't do that to them, right? Right? Oh thank gods. See? I was right. Anyway, it seems like their character development arc is coming up soon, so i'm keeping calm and not cracking my knuckles, not at all.

Oh yes, there will be some development soon here. Tee hee?

Duri is so fun. Their playfulness is so endearing, so much so that i find myself repeatedly swayed in my decision to have them in a (now mostly) platonic relationship with MC. Simmer down, you'll have your turn. It had me rolling how they snapped once the bandits insulted their feet lmao! Also, also, their dynamic with Rune? Mmm, so good. I love the kind of friendship that's like "yeah i picked up this weird wet dog one day and now it won't leave me be and it's annoying, but only i'm allowed to say that. here, have a treat."

I love that you love that. Writing Duri is fun and I get to break some social norms with them so it's a win-win for us all. The relation to Rune is a blast.

Moving on, Duri sniffing MC after they talked with someone they didn't know; Duri immediately leaping at the opportunity to tease a jealous MC; Duri coming to MC's rescue to put a harasser in their place--they can't keep getting away with being so charming! Oh wait, they can. Human laws don't apply to them, after all.

Duri is already so loyal. Like a pup you picked up at the shelter, the connection is pretty quick for them. Also, if you didn't know, you can also get Rune to get defensive of MC being harassed in the tavern. Currently thinking of changing the code of that, but if you choose to stay neutral or a bit distrustful of Duri, Rune will get involved instead. Both have the confidence and the power to back it up though, can't go wrong.

And Aster? Something is up with him. Big time. Bost obviously, his name. I don't know, i don't know, i'm not convinced it's a coincidence or merely "fate." I'm watching you, Aster. Okay, and yes, i see why MC might need his help, but he never once elaborated on that part where he said he needs MC for power. Sooo, naah, i'm not putting my egg in your basket, not yet. Especially!! After he so brutally demonstrated just how much of a bigger hand he has over MC. That was evil. (In a good way.) He's unhinged, and i love that in a character. I would not trust him even with a cheese grater.

That may be wisdom here for sure, lol. Aster is quite the character, as are all of them I suppose. All have secrets he especially has some serious growing to do. He'll be an interesting addition - and a very smug one at that. Maybe juuuust maybe MC can get him to feel a little remorse for being an ASSter, to quote a previous ask, lol.

I almost thought MC's group of friends were going to mistake him for the kidnapper and everyone would want to throw hands, or would at least be very leery of him, so seeing how easily he slotted in had me a little surprised (and i think he was a bit surprised himself).

That very nearly happened actually. I cut it because of chapter length, and I'm thinking I want to polish the ending for that anyway. I feel like I was burnt out while writing that and I pushed it too fast. So, we'll see what happens in future….

I really, really liked the option of having MC be scared of him after he put a cork (dart) in Jasper's mouth (throat). The head tilt afterwards? Wiping away a stray tear? "Now come sit with me on my picnic blanket designer cloak to talk about how everything is drawn to you, including me?" "I'll need to study you?" Yes, i'll take your entire stock.

I'm glad you enjoyed your dessert, Nony. ;) There will be some serious studying in the next chapter.

Oswin being extremely quiet while MC was recounting their failed abduction because he was still recovering from those 6 panic attacks he had since finding MC's room empty and with signs of struggle.

THIS absolutely. MC may get an account of the experience later.

 i can't wait to see what the dads are going to say about each of MC's new friends! I can already imagine who might not entirely vibe with whom, especially if papa and da are going to be in a sour mood after they see my (feral despite being the healer of the party) MC scarred and sore despite their letters containing nothing but rainbows and sunshine (oops). MC's right, though, how are they going to house so many people lol.

This will be so much fun, especially when it comes to sleeping arrangements…A couple ROs will get themselves sorted but there's a couple that we might just get a "one bed" trope with, lol.

And last but not least, MC got the promised puppy!!! (i named her "Ginger" <33) 

Oh that is such a cute name too! She is kinda the color of ginger and she's also very gentle (ginger) AND she can be very spicy if you piss her off. Very gingery.

I have been here before and gushed about your writing on multiple occasions and i don't want to repeat myself over and over, so i'll just reiterate once more that i'm constantly blown away by how real and vivid you make everything feel. You're putting things down and i'm picking them right up, thank you, thank you, yup, i'll have that as well, thank you. You're painting pictures inside my head, and they're gorgeous and vibrant and moving now--hey, how did you even get in here? I'm convinced you're a mage. MC is not the mage here (yet?), but you sure are!! It's okay, you may fess up now. As always, thank you so much for all your hard work! May your holidays be full of joy and rest! Take care <333

I am so thankful that you resonate so much with my writing, my friend. That really truly makes my heart so glad and encourages me to keep at it. I hope each chapter brings you more and more enjoyment and adventure. ^_^

16. @rhiannon02:  IM SCREAMING OVER CH 5 LITERALLY SCREAMING ASTER ??? IM IM LOSING IT

Well, hang on dear, maybe I can help you find it, lol. (I heard that one in my soul) ^_^

That's all for now! ^_^

[katyawriteswhump]

hot chocolate for the soul 💝

@steddieholidaydrabbles day 23 prompt, ‘hot chocolate;’  @steddiemas week 4 prompt, ‘surprise,’ @whumpcember day 23 prompt, ‘overwhelmed.’

WC: 969; Rating: G; CW: None; Tags: fluff, found family, established steddie, mention of health conditions, Eddie lives HEA, soft everyone! Summary: Steve decides to surprise Eddie and Wayne with hot chocolate. He's got no idea of the emotional fireworks he’s going to unleash... (of the good variety!)

💝💝💝💝💝💝

Steve let himself in through the door, precariously balancing three hot-chocolate drinks. He was ridiculously proud that he’d got home with barely a slop. The cream and marshmallows hadn’t sunk totally flat yet.

“Honey!” Eddie rushed at Steve and plastered a wet kiss on his cheek. Steve almost yelped—okay, still no spillages. His coordination skills weren’t totally shot. “Mmmmm, mmmmm,” said Eddie. “That chocolate smells amazing, Babe. You shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, I should’ve,” mumbled Steve. Eddie took the drinks, so he could slip out of his winter jacket. “I wanted to surprise you by doing something, I dunno, nice for a change? Sorry I was cranky this morning before work.”

“Huh? Didn’t notice.”

Eddie slipped his arm through Steve’s and led him to the kitchen area. Wayne stirred a big pan of bolognese sauce. He greeted Steve with a quiet ‘Hey,’ and a smile that could melt polar ice-caps.

“Hey,” smiled Steve, before plonking the drinks on the table and reverting his attention to Eddie. “What do you mean, ‘didn’t notice?’ You saying I’m always grouchy in the morning?”

“Wouldn’t have my bitchy darling any other way.”  Eddie pressed Steve into a chair then headed to help Wayne. “Seriously, though, you were fine.”

Steve inhaled sharply, his chest kinda catching—partially on the delicious odours from Wayne’s cooking, overwhelming even the hot chocolate, though mainly on the emotions surging inside him.

He had been cranky this morning. He’d had a bad headache for days. Eddie and Wayne didn’t deserve to be dragged down by him. Hell, post-Vecna-everything, the ‘powers-that-be’ might have compensated the Munsons with a nice little house, but they couldn’t cure Eddie’s chronic pain and regular panic attacks any more than they could fix Steve’s.

Yet, here Steve was. 

In the snuggest kitchen on earth, with his loving boyfriend and his kind uncle smiling down at him like he was sunshine itself. Then Wayne’s gaze alighted on the hot chocolate. He turned off the cooktop, his face turning deadly grave. 

“You brought that, son? For us?”

“Uh, yeah?” Steve was suddenly nervous. He swallowed hard, watching Wayne’s Adam’s apple bob as he apparently mirrored him.

Then Wayne pulled out a chair, sat down opposite Steve. His face crumpled, and he burst into tears.

“Shit!” squeaked Steve, glancing up at Eddie, who also looked mildly alarmed. “Did I do something wrong?" On instinct, Steve reached across the table to Wayne, who grabbed Steve’s fingers.

“No, no.” Wayne sniffed. “It’s just… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s just… t-this year, I thought I lost my sweet boy. I thought I lost everything, and now… h-here we are… all together… I got me two sweet boys to love. Two.”

“Oh,” said Steve, very softly, still kinda panicking for reasons he wasn’t sure of. Fortunately, Eddie had totally got this. He plonked himself at Wayne’s side, threw his arms around him, and joined him in sobbing his heart out.

Wayne had still gotten hold of Steve’s fingers, wringing them to the point of pain. Between hiccupping sobs, Eddie spluttered, “St-Steve… Stevie?” while flailing an arm toward Steve, gesturing wildly that he should join them.

Steve realized he was gawking, snapped his mouth shut. He felt it, he honestly did, his chest burning with love and gratitude. He also felt bad. Harringtons didn’t cry, and years of conditioning left their mark. That said, he’d cried a lot this last year, not all of it solo. 

He wasn’t a Harrington anymore. Not really.

He was a Munson, heart and soul. At least, he wanted to be… 

“Babe?” Eddie’s arm remained outstretched. Wayne’s pleading, watery eyes upon Steve were pretty much the final straw. Steve’s pent-up feelings surged upward… into a very slight sniffle.

Ding-dong!

Steve genuinely hated that he thought, Saved by the bell! 

“I’ll get that.” He dabbed his eyes.

It was Dustin and Claudia, who Wayne often invited to dinner. Steve endured an awkward moment, struggling to explain, as the Hendersons entered the kitchen to find the Munsons a bawling mess. Dustin looked up at Steve, utterly aghast, before Wayne rescued him. “St-Steve bought hot chocolate. What a thoughtful surprise. After everything this year, it was just so… so… darn…”

Claudia was already breaking. Within seconds, she and Dustin joined Wayne and Eddie in a four-way waterworks cuddle, leaving Steve standing, hands on hips, utterly bewildered. 

Okay, also grinning his face off through a faint sheen of tears. If the people he cared for were happy, he was. Wasn’t his fault they had a crazy way of showing it.

He really wanted ‘in’ on the hug, though. He felt more and more excluded and squirmy, though everyone entreated him to join them, between sputters and sniffles.

Ding-dong.

Steve dashed to the door. 

“Hey,” said Robin. “You were in such a mad rush to get hot chocolate before the diner closed, you forgot your pain meds, Dingus. Shit! Oh my God, who died?”

“Nobody.” Steve pinched his aching brow. “I think they’re happy. It was um… s-something… to do with the… d-dumbass hot… choc…” 

Robin didn’t cry much easier than Steve did. Once she set off, though, that was that. They piled into the six-way hug, sobbing till they were all pretty much cried out. Apart from Steve, who kept sniffling forever. 

His face burned. He figured he was embarrassed… until he realized he wasn’t, not really.

He felt okay.

Yeah, his head hurt, but he’d gotten it leaned lightly on Eddie’s shoulder, which was scarred but healing. Eddie was alive. They were all here, together, and safe, holding each other tightly, if only for this perfect moment. 

He loved them so much, and accepting so much love was really difficult, dammit. He was learning from the best.

They divided the cold hot chocolate into six mugs and laughed the evening away.

🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪💝💝💝💝💝💝

No pressure tags: @wheneverfeasible 💚❤️💚 My fic on ao3

[the-colourful-witch]

Hi everyone!

You may be thinking… so much new art in two days. Yes, yes indeed. I am on holiday and I now spend a lot of time watching Christmas films and drawing on the couch. I am enjoying myself very much :) 🤩

Now, I have reached 5K on Instagram, which is so so cool! I can’t believe it! I promised my friend Anna @paper-hug to host a DTIYS in honour of this achievement, so here we are!

If you are feeling inspired, join this fun challenge with me! Draw this in YOUR STYLE and don’t forget to use the hashtag #thecolourfulwitchdtiys and tag me in your post, so I can share your work. I look forward to seeing your creative takes on our beloved Golden Trio✨⭐️🧡

For this illustration, I wanted to create a Deathly Hallows vibe: rebel teens destroying the Dark Arts with snark and fierce determination⭐️ Also, it is canon that Harry grew his hair when they were on the run and man, did I want a chance to draw that!👀😄 Very cool!

[arom-antix]

Hey, just wanted to reach out to say that I found you pointing out and calling this person was really great and you shouldn't have apologized. It was incredibly true what you said, and to be honest it seems out of touch with the reality of a great deal of the japanese fandom, the nuances and their culture. Also, it was as you pointed out, extreme and may I say rude. I want to mention too that the way it was written, as if entitled of the knowledge and the 'explanation' made it all worse in context of the 'fucked up'. The original poster always gets away by using the 'well-written academic'' statement of their 'metas' as an excuse to do or say and make everyone else agree and if not, uses victim narrative and discourses exactly selecting wording for people to agree on it or feel bad.

I don't know if they tagging you in the way they did made you reblog and apologizing/backing up, but no one thought bad about you pointing it out. On the contrary, a lot of people had been bullied and discriminated by this person when they called them out/disagreed going onto lenghts of sending their friends to harass people, and the other persons can't even defend themselves because they are effectively blocked. To quite a few people in the fandom has been done, even accusing them as 'acephobes' (when they're not) or even Nazis by spreading lies. So yeah, I just wanted to say that. I think you were right to call them out publicly.

Thank you very much for this ask. To be completely honest I agree with everything you said here and don't actually feel bad about pointing anything out. I mainly apologised because I didn't want any potentially poor phrasing from my side to cause unnecessary hostility and because I myself have gripes with this person's behaviour but didn't want to cause a scene.

My honest opinion is that they have a serious issue with taking accountability for their own mistakes and highly overestimate their own intellect. If you're reading this, @thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai, sorry if I seem harsh, but it's true. I saw your post lamenting how you're the only academic meta writer / fan in the fandom and I didn't interact then because I honestly do not care enough to start that drama but with the information Blonndiec has just given me, I think it's necessary that someone calls you out.

You're not an academic. You're not beyond the mental capabilities of other fans. You're actually incredibly childish in your metas and analyses and I am not kidding when I say that I was halfheartedly writing essays more academic than every analysis I've seen from you when I was barely a teenager. I don't know how old you are and I frankly don't care. You're not as clever as you think you are.

Also, don't think I didn't notice that you didn't reblog my correction (link here to my correction and here to their "response" for those who didn't see that exchange) of your post so that you could control what your followers saw of the exchange. You're the opposite of an academic. You control information to tailor the narrative, you don't cite your sources properly if at all, you don't format your posts in anything close to how an academic analysis would be, you make unbased claims, you reference posts and canon material without in any way indicating where that information is from, you reference your own (equally unacademic) metas and your conclusions from them without indicating what post it's from or that it's your own theory this new one is based on and instead present it as a common fact, and I could go on and on and on. Your posts are also riddled with logical fallacies and you talk in absolutes and opinions when there's no canon basis to claim such things. I'm sorry, but that's not academic in the slightest.

To be clear, you don't have to be an academic to post on the Internet. You don't have to be anything at all. You could up front be a genuine idiot with no remorse and that's fine. But when you claim to be an academic and also put down the rest of the fandom for not being on your level, you have to be able to back that up. It'd still make you sound like a prick but at least your arrogance would have a basis. It currently does not.

I haven't personally seen the discussions that Blonndiec is referencing and I'm not going to claim anything definitive (because that would be unacademic of me, take notes) but if what they're saying is true and did happen as described, which I have empirical, if anecdotal, evidence to believe could very well be (a friend of mine has personally been blocked by you after they criticised you without actually mentioning your name which I of course can't prove is the reason for the block but the timing is awfully convenient), you should know that you should be ashamed of yourself.

If there's context missing, feel free to enlighten me and call out any incorrect accusations. You have every right to defend yourself. However, I encourage you to cite your sources since you're such an academic. If you don't, then it's just your word against Blonndiec and anyone else who might comment's word and that doesn't prove anything. Don't misunderstand, acephobia and nazi rhetoric should absolutely be called out but only if it's actually happening. False accusations can ruin lives. I hope you know that.

I'm not a fan of calling people out publicly and, again, thank you for this ask, Blonndiec. But considering many of the issues I've personally seen and those I've been informed of by second hand sources were posted publically, I don't really feel bad about calling this out. I could do a full breakdown of just the insulting "academic" comments alone and how there's no academia to be found in said academic metas and, Samurai, if you give me reason to, I will show exactly what I mean point by point (and academically just to give you an example of even low level academia).

If you respond to this, do it in a reblog. That's what a real academic would do. If I'm wrong and you can prove it, you'd have no reason to not show my post in your rebuttal. If I'm right, you'd have every reason to be upfront about your mistakes and how you intend to rectify them. There's nothing wrong with being wrong but there's a lot wrong with refusing to admit to it in a way that lets others peer review you (academic thing, look it up) and come to their own conclusions about the situation. That's what you did when you just @'ed me instead of reblogging my response. A true academic wouldn't hide a peer review. You'd know that if you were one.

I swing in many academic spaces and yet that doesn't make me any kind of expert and I don't claim to be one because I'm not. But since you want to be one so badly, reblog this with a response and show us all how smart you are. I'm dying to know what your academic take on this is.

[ultravioletlightwaves]

Things I love most about this:

The dirt-low expectations for Geno's participation. They knew that if they asked him to do more than the absolute bare minimum he would simply take a bathroom break and disappear from the building forever. When he was a little younger he could sometimes be bullied into a more active role in this seasonal team humiliation (/Sid could puppy-dog-gaze him into brief submission) but he's 38 years old and divorced now. You want to put him into a cheap whimsical costume that was not his own idea? No. He's not having it.

The fact that Sid WILL participate, with a good attitude even. At his advanced age he too is over some of the NHL's garbage-- witness him skipping the start of the ASG festivities last year to skate outdoors in Montana or whatever he was doing instead-- but he is still game to get fondly and good-naturedly humiliated in public with his boys.

Rusty's indignation about being forced to participate getting absolutely ignored. Complain all you want, buddy. This PR team has been to war (argued with Geno about doing a bit). The sound of your objections is like a gentle breeze through the trees to them.

Everyone gets humiliated here (except for Geno), but Tanger is the most humiliated.

The absolute wretched set-up for the 'players in the cardboard box' shots. Why did they put the box so low? Why did they light it mostly from the sides, resulting in huge shadows in lots of the final shots? Why was it so flimsy? I don't know the answers to any of these questions but I love the result because its terrible awkwardness indicates that someone, somewhere had a brilliant idea that they got really excited about and approximately fifteen dollars was allocated to make it happen.

Leaving the tags on the ugly 'sweaters' so they can be returned. See above.

“don’t follow me! follow crosby!” and sid wanting to keep the santa onesie 🤨

[mariamegale]

More clarification on Dybowski's position within Ice Pick Lodge today from IPL ex-employee Luchin, after yesterday's comments.

Sorry for posting so much in the patho tag, but unfortunately it's what's best for visibility. I have, and will be, using the "Dybowski Allegations" tag for any post on this, so please block that tag if you don't want to see it.

Since my post yesterday on Alexey Luchin's comments/allegations against Dybowski, he has given Reddit some updates and clarifications. I'll summarise the Reddit thread, but quote Luchin in full for transparency.

The thread is on the topic of Dybowski's current involvement with IPL/Pathologic 3. Commenters stated that he has sold the company, and hasn't been very involved with the games since The Void (2008). Whether this is a valid interpretation of Luchin's earlier statements was discussed, and the fact that he's been a main P2 writer and involved with a lot of promo stuff over the years was brought up. Luchin, after being pinged, showed up to clarify:

Russian companies often use a "fake owner" for various reasons, this is the case here. Motivations may be to avoid alimony, to ease money transfers between the main company part in Kazakhstan and the original main company and it's Cyprus subordinary. It is not illegal, and even not a loophole, though. I wouldn't dwell on that much. It's important what people work in the studio factually.

and,

Yep, I'd say it's up to the currently employed to shed light reliably. But in general around after the Void he was more of an broad ideas guy — and a good one, it wasn't my intent to downplay him in that regard. At the same time, game development is a multistage process, and from my personal knowledge, I can attribute a lot of the new games qualities to "fresh blood", and the other co-founders acting more professional. E.g. Alphyna has covered a decent chunk of actual writing on Pathologic 2 and had a pivotal role in maintaining the timeline of events of the game, charater motivations, etc together. Ivan Slovtsov carried the detailed game design and balancing with his team — which gave him a good position in tinyBuild after, etc. IPL is to some extent an autere game company, with the source and numerous modifications coming from Nikolay, but in my time his input was irregural, disrupting, and in my personal opinion wasn't often for the good of the game. At the same time, the fresh blood in the studio grew on the principles on which the studio was founded and successfully carries its legacy already. This is an opinion, though, still. Personally, I'll still play Pathologic 3, it's great, from what I know / have seen. And all my posts here are done with a heavy heart — it's not easy to be dissapointed in a talanted figure such as Dybowsky myself.

So, based on this (keep in mind Luchin himself has stated to have no contact with Dybowski himself since 2018, although it feels fair to assume he'd still be in contact with other former coworkers) the exact role of Dybowski in the creation of these games seems a little unclear. But I also don't think anyone's been debating whether he's been involved up until p3, as much as how deeply involved he is in p3.

Ultimately, it's up to everyone to decide for themselves where they stand in terms of opinion on p3, buying the game, sticking around in the fandom, supporting the studio, et cetera., but that's the new info.

To just give my own personal two cents: I am still in the position I was yesterday, which is that I believe IPL has to make a statement on all of this, and cut ties with Dybowski, before I'll be completely comfortable giving them money. However, I do also want to acknowledge the fact that this is not a black and white situation, and that the discourse surrounding this does warrant some level of nuance. I'm, of course, speaking in relation to the other people working at IPL.

It's incredibly easy to say both, "Dybowski is not his team; they should never be punished for his actions," and "they may have helped cover for him for twenty years; they should be held responsible." Silence is, to a degree, complicity, and if Luchin is to be believed not just in his "open secret" statement but also here, in reference to the student grooming allegations:

That's the Nema-Soda episode around the same time previous accusations surfaced. Well known in the Russian segment of the internet.

That's bad. If this truly has been this out in the open and known, that's really fucking bad, and I want this company - at least its management - to be held responsible for their potential silence and complicity in this.

But, at risk of sounding like I'm excusing any of this, I do also want to remind you that according to Luchin, as well as earlier testimonies including Renata's, this is also a person who is apparently incredibly vindictive. He is also pretty rich by Russian standards, and has held some level of influence in academia and the Russian game dev community for many years. I don't know exactly how his vindictiveness would take its form, especially not against employees, but I've been in toxic workplaces before - it can be scary, downright terrifying, to go after or even up against someone like this. No matter how shitty they are, especially if you're not in a country with good whistleblower laws (and just, in general, a system which will take the original allegations seriously, which... I'm not Russian, but I'm allowing myself some possibly problematic doubt that you'd be able to comfortably know that. I come from a significantly more progressive country, and I would absolutely not take it for certain) it can be incredibly difficult to stand up for what's right and take that risk to your livelihood, safety, and future job prospects. Especially in a job market so (relatively) niche as Russian game development. I'm also pretty damn sure there's not a union, or anything like it, to back you up if you get inofficially retaliated against.

Human being end up in abusive situations and find themselves, for one reason or another, not doing anything about it all the time. SA victims don't always report their perpetrator. Fraud victims don't always come forward. People subjected to wage theft don't always call their union reps. And others, those who witness it, don't always do it either. Sometimes because it's not their place, sometimes because they don't care, and sometimes because they're afraid. I don't think it's fair to assume everyone is in the second category, just as how I wouldn't think it's fair to assume everyone is in any of the others - it'd be absurd to assume every IPL worker doesn't want to out someone else's victimhood, which is why they haven't said anything publicly, for example. However, not reporting is an incredibly common blame to put on a victim or witness, because it's assumed that by not reporting it, they're essentially enabling the perpetrator to do it again. And I personally just don't think that's just - not without knowing what else weighed into a person's decision not to speak up.

I'm not saying this absolves all of IPL. I especially don't think it absolves the people at the top with Dybowski, who would have been more protected than the bottom-line workers. I simply am asking for some honest-to-god nuance. Personally, I'm still not happy to give IPL any money - not until I know Dybowski is not getting any of it, and measures have been taken to protect their other employees. But I'm also not interested in broad brushing an entire company of twenty years as evil, because the employees haven't made (english) publically available attempts at getting this guy out. We know, by his own accord, Luchin didn't - we know nothing of the others. A conversation with a manager that went badly is not likely to become public knowledge. People lamenting their powerlessness to stop someone to their colleagues or friends won't reach us. Someone quietly resigning because they can't do this anymore, but not being willing to put themselves on the line, is not a detail we're going to have.

I'm happy the silence has, hopefully irrevocably and undeniably, been broken. I'm hoping some people, Dybowski in particular, will face justice, or at least consequences. I hope Renata and her son, as well as Dybowski's other children, are safe and happy. I hope that IPL will do something, and move forward as a better company.

I want them to make a statement about this. That's non-negiotiable, for me, personally. I also want to see a change, and a better company with a better work culture going forward, making games and nurturing a community safely away from all this shit.

However, I accept the grim possibility that this will never happen, and am trying to decide on what that means for me personally moving forward with the fandom. I don't have any moral qualms about piracy, that's not what this is about. And that's the wider conversation I think I personally will need more, moving forward, in regards to my relationship with Pathologic.

That's my two cents.