#queen of answering a question with a question

[ilikeevilblondes]

Give and Take

18+ MDNI!

Summary: Apparently, your IUD failed when your then ex-husband fucked you against your bathroom sink. Luckily for you, when you tell him the news, he fucks you again to make sure it sticks.

W.C: ~6.6k

TL;DR: check for your iud strings, y’all.

Warnings: ex-ex!joel x ex-ex!reader (y'all are fine now), sarah cameo, domestic life, sappy shit, joel is a tits man, breeding kink obvs, softdom!joel, fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex. reader gets called ‘mama’ while they’re doing it. (no outbreak!)

Note: second part of beck and call to appease the horde !! happy late father’s day to this guy

Part One | Part Two

You didn’t intend on falling asleep beside your ex-husband when you invited him over to fix your broken sink.

And you definitely didn’t intend on waking up in his arms, either.

Yet, there you were, tangled together in the worn mattress of your queen-sized bed. His right arm was folded below his head. His left was slung over your waist, holding you close to him as your head rested on his firm chest.

His heartbeat thudded softly beneath your ear. Steady. Familiar. Like a wordless promise to you that he was there. That last night, whatever it was, meant something.

Growl.

You froze.

Even more insistent, groooowl.

Apparently, there were three people in your bed: you, Joel, and your appetite.

As carefully as you could, you freed yourself from Joel’s embrace. He frowned, grunted petulantly in protest, and muttered your name in his sleep, before turning on his side. 

And then, you pulled on a ratty old shirt and a pair of sleep shorts before quietly making your way downstairs, careful to avoid the second-to-the-last step of the staircase that always creaked.

The kitchen was still bathed in the golden glow of the early morning, light filtering in through the blinds in soft stripes. You padded across the cold floor and got to work.

Coffee, first. Then, as the machine did its job, eggs.

Eggs for two, just like before.

You stared down at the sizzling pan as if you were waiting for it to answer the question you were too scared to ask.

What now?

Because last night, Joel told you he still loved you. 

Because you had kissed him, and he kissed you back, and he made love to you in your bathroom, of all places. 

Because, instead of kicking him out, you pulled him to your bed and slept in his arms. 

Because this morning, you wanted everything back. You wanted him back.

You rubbed your hand down your face and gave the eggs a stir. And then you turned toward the staircase at the muffled sound of soft, sleepy footsteps.

Speak of the devil.

Joel appeared by the doorway, hair dishevelled from sleep, gloriously shirtless, eyes half-lidded and tender.

“You makin’ us breakfast?” He said, voice low and slightly raspy.

“No, all this is just for me. But I’m sure the McDonald’s a few blocks down is open if you’re hungry.” You deadpanned, smiling to yourself and returning your attention to the eggs.

“Ha-ha.” Joel hummed sleepily and ventured nearer.

The two of you fell into what had been your daily routine. Joel fished out two mugs from the cabinet above the dishwasher and finished the coffee (milk and sugar for yours, black for him), right as you scraped the eggs off the pan onto two plates.

And, there you were, sitting across the kitchen table from the man you thought you’d lost forever.

“So.” You poked at your eggs with your fork.

“So,” Joel echoed, glancing up at you as he brought his mug to his lips.

“Are we gonna … talk about it?” 

Joel blinked, then set his mug down. “What, last night?”

“Yeah. Last night.” You pushed around a clump of your breakfast. 

“What about it?” His brows furrowed.

“Did you mean it?”

Your mind flashed with his sweet nothings. His confessions of longing and love and all else. 

Joel’s gaze softened. “Every word.”

“Okay.” Your heart felt a little lighter. “Well, then, I’d like for us to try again.”

Smiling, he replied, “I’d like that, very much, baby.” 

“Okay,” You said again, smiling right back at him.

“Okay.” He repeated, reaching across the table for your hand, softly lacing your fingers together.

And at that moment, you wanted to thank the stars above and the ineffable mercy of the universe for giving you a second chance. 

For letting you find your way back to him, and him to you.

You shook your head, laughing. “My lawyer’s gonna have a field day.”

“You think you’ll get a refund?” He raised an eyebrow, lips pulling into a grin.

“Nope.” You clicked your tongue. “Maybe I’ll get my next divorce half-off, though.”

Joel chuckled and looked at you with this quiet, reverent warmth floating in the richness of his dark brown eyes that said he was falling deeper in love with you all over again.

Because he was. And, god help him, he didn’t remember how not to be.

Scooping the last of his eggs off his plate, he then pushed his chair back and stood.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He walked by you to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “And then… well, we can sort the rest of this out.”

“Okay.” You smiled.

He then shot you a quick wink, and you watched as he disappeared up the stairs, basking in the afterglow of his lips still tingling on your scalp.

And the house went quiet, save for the occasional creak of the pipes and faint sound of running water from the upstairs ensuite.

You stared down into your coffee.

It was still slightly hard to process the dramatic turn of events hurled very suddenly toward you at full force. Just last week, you were negotiating which major holidays you’d get to spend with Sarah (no, Joel could not get Christmas in exchange for St Patrick’s Day—when in your life have you all celebrated St Patrick’s Day?), and now you were very eagerly ‘trying again’.

Not that you were complaining.

You’d try again a hundred more times if that were what it took to be with him again.

Smiling like an idiot, you rose from your chair and collected your plate in your hands, reaching over to stack it on top of Joel’s.

And, at that exact moment, the front door swung open, and a voice called:

“Mom? I’m home!”

You froze in place.

A few seconds later, your twelve-year-old daughter strolled into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, mom.” She passed you a weary smile, setting down her duffel bag on the table.

“Sarah! You’re home early.” You breathed, voice an octave higher and excessively bright. “I thought your grandparents were still keeping you hostage at the lake house.”

“Yeah, well, Papa threw his back out trying to reel in a muskie.” She rolled her eyes, then walked over to the fridge to pull out a Capri-Sun. “Grandma had to drive us home so he could get checked out quickly. Nagged him the whole way back ‘cause her license expired back when I was still teething, apparently.”

You forced an overly responsive laugh.

It sounded less like a laugh and more like a startled cough that got lost halfway through a choke.

Sarah arched a brow, stabbing into the juice pack. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, bug.” You shook your head, glancing at the staircase. 

“Okay.” Sarah dragged out the syllables, eyeing you over suspiciously. “How was your date yesterday?”

You choked. “Fine.” 

And that was when Sarah’s eyes landed on the two plates you were holding tightly to your chest. Then they moved over to the two mugs sitting opposite each other on the table. And then, over to the pan on the stove littered with fresh egg residue.

“Right.” She made a face, then trudged over to sling her duffel bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see myself out until your guy leaves.”

“Sarah–”

“It’s fine.” She marched back toward the entryway. “I’ll go play outside, for once, or something. Aren’t you always saying that I should do that?”

Should you tell her?

You pressed your lips together, watching her shove her feet back in her worn Converse. “Sarah, would you stop for a second?”

Yeah, you should probably tell her that her dad’s ‘the guy’ upstairs.

Sarah bent down to tie her laces. “Mom, I don’t want to be traumatised by—”

And then her eyes widened.

She straightened up and shot you a look that was some amalgamation of disbelief and extreme confusion, nodding towards the welcome mat.

“Are those…dad’s boots?”

Shit.

To make matters worse, apparently, amidst all the kerfuffle, you had failed to notice that the shower had stopped running a good few minutes ago. And, right after Sarah’s astute observation, Joel descended the stairs. Hair slightly wet and wearing the flannel from yesterday evening.

“Good news, sweetheart, your sink’s  still busted, but your shower’s—Sarah?”  

The colour drained from his face.

“Dad?” She gaped back at him.

And suddenly, you somehow found yourself locked in what appeared to be a modern-day Western Standoff, except, instead of the threat of gunfire, there was the threat of someone saying something to make this situation even more unbearable.

For a good few seconds, there was absolute stillness.

No one moved. No one spoke. A bird chirped from somewhere outside, completely unaware of the domestic chaos unravelling within the house.

Ultimately, Joel decided to break the silence.

“Hey, kiddo.” He said casually, attempting a relaxed smile. “What are you … doin’ here?”

You held yourself back from facepalming into an early death.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “How long have you been here?”

Joel looked at you. You looked at Joel. Joel looked at Sarah. Sarah looked at you. Everyone looked at the boots.

“Not long.” You cleared your throat. “My sink was broken. Your dad was just helping me. With my sink.”

Smooth.

“So, you called him at eight in the morning and he took a shower in your bathroom?” Sarah said slowly.

“Well, you know your father. Always up at the crack of dawn.” You breathed, trying to sound breezy. Your voice was nothing of the sort.

“Just can’t help it.” Joel nodded.

Sarah blinked once.

Then twice.

And then looked between the two of you, wholly unconvinced, crossing her arms and somehow adopting the role of higher authority in this predicament.

“You two are being weird.” Was her final verdict.

You sighed and glanced at Joel before turning toward your daughter.

“Look,” You began, gently stepping toward her. “This is new. Like, very new. But … your dad and I are just figuring things out.”

“As in,” Sarah’s eyebrows knitted together. “You’re un-divorced?”

“Not really a word, pumpkin.” Joel offered helpfully. “But we’re back together, yes.”

He caught your eye and gave you a small, reassuring smile.

Sarah’s expression softened.

“Jeez. I’m gone for three days, and this is what I miss?” She shook her head and waltzed back inside, past you and Joel, toward the stairs. Before she could set foot on the bottom step, she paused and faced the two of you. “I’m glad you two are whatever you are, but can we talk about this after I’ve taken a nap?”

Joel let out a huff of laughter. “Go and get some shut-eye, pumpkin.”

Sarah shrugged, already halfway up. “Cool. Just, like … warn me next time, maybe. I don’t wanna see things I can’t unsee.”

Your face heated. “Sarah!” 

“What?” She called over her shoulder. “It would be extremely harmful to my development!”

And with that, she headed upstairs.

You turned toward Joel, wincing. “Think that could’ve gone better?”

Joel crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. 

“Probably.” He sighed. “But, at least that’s over with. Telling our kid, I mean.”

“Right. Next up is telling family.” A shudder ran through your spine.

Joel smiled softly and beckoned you closer with a curl of his finger.

You acquiesced, moving to stand right in front of him. His hands immediately settled on your hips, softly caressing whatever exposed skin his thumbs found.

“We don’t have to tell everyone just yet, if you’re scared, baby.” He said, voice low and sweet and reassuring, his eyes holding yours like a lifeline.

“I want to.” You placed your hands on his chest, fingers fanning out and feeling the steady rise and fall beneath them. “Just … not how we told Sarah.”

“Agreed.” Joel leaned forward to kiss your forehead, closing his eyes as he did so.

You felt yourself smile.

“Next time I stay over, I’ll hide the evidence,” Joel mumbled.

“Stay over?” You pulled back to look up at him.

Joel looked back at you quizzically, a wrinkle making itself known in between his eyebrows.

“Yeah…?” He blinked. “We … well, we aren’t embracin’ some form of celibacy, are we?”

“No, I mean—I thought you were gonna move back in. Eventually.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” You inhaled, suddenly feeling your chest tighten. “Or, not. You know, it’s a very big thing, and I’d completely understand if you wanted to keep living in your apartment. I’m just offering it since, you know, we’re working things out and maybe it’d be easier to share a single … living space. Eventually. Not, like, tomorrow. Unless you want—”

Joel smiled. “Baby?”

You winced. “Uh-huh?”

“You’re ramblin’.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel hummed fondly, bringing a hand up to trace his thumb along your lower lip. “‘Course I’ll move back in.” He then pulled you into him, wrapping an arm around your waist, and kissing you like it settled the matter.

Your lips moved slowly against his, savouring the tenderness of his touch and the warmth of his body against yours.

Before you knew it, he spun you around so that your back hit the wall, all but caging you in against it.

A breathless gasp slipped from your mouth, so he took the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips and—

“Seriously? I leave you two alone for one second.”

You both tore yourselves apart like you were struck by lightning, finding your daughter shaking her head at you.

“Came down to get my bag.” Sarah coughed, holding up her duffel.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Joel ran a hand through his hair.

“Gross.” She muttered under her breath, retreating back to her room.

You held back a laugh, returning your attention to Joel and trailing a hand down his impossibly broad chest.

“You wanna … take this somewhere else, big guy?” You tilted your head, a certain glint of mischievousness dancing in your eyes.

Joel’s eyes darkened, and a smirk carved through his scruff. Right when he opened his mouth to respond to your suggestion, however, an exasperated grunt echoed down the stairs:

“I can still hear you!”

You both burst into laughter.

It had been a few weeks since you and Joel decided to get back together—a very good few weeks, at that. 

Life seemed to fall into place perfectly.

Joel moved back in, you two were attending Sarah’s soccer matches at the same time, and nothing at all was going wrong.

Until it all went wrong.

“Dad,” You balanced the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you wiped down your bathroom mirror, already regretting your choice to heavy-clean your ensuite on your day off from work. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll pop out one of your hip replacements or something? 

“It’s just fishing. Besides, why have a lakehouse if you can’t even use it this often?”

“The doctor said—”

A hearty chuckle sounded from the other line.

“Peanut, you sound just like your mother. The doctor can say all she wants, but nothing gives her the right to dictate my life!”

“No, no, just a fancy little medical degree.” You grumbled, rubbing at a particularly stubborn smudge in the glass.

“You only live once.” Was his fortified argument.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, opting to let out a long sigh instead. 

Evidently, he heard it.

“I’m fine. Really.” Your dad insisted. “In fact, better than fine. Reeled in quite the catch yesterday.”

“Oh yeah?” You said distractedly, spritzing the mirror with more glass cleaner.

“Oh yeah.” Your dad parroted, a big, proud grin in his voice. “Caught myself a whopper yesterday—a big ol’ largemouth bass that fought me tooth and nail. Then there was that sneaky little crappie hiding under the dock. Darn slippery fella. Literally. Almost slipped right through my hands. Oh, and don’t get me started on the catfish. Little guy had the longest whiskers I’d seen, too.”

You tried to focus, but your stomach twisted with a sudden sharpness. You set the rag and glass cleaner bottle down.

“Dad, hold on—” You started, but he wasn’t done.

“Had to wrestle that sucker outta the mud, muddy as all get-out, slime glistening in the sun, gills flapping like a crazy bird. It was a damn enthusiastic fighter. I swear, Peanut, if I weren’t as strong as I am, I would’ve lost.”

Your vision blurred a little, and your hand flew up to your mouth.

“Dad, wait, hold on—”

Before you could say anything else, your stomach flipped violently, and you dashed to kneel in front of the toilet, dropping your phone as you felt yourself give way to what had been your breakfast.

The sound of your dad’s voice echoed faintly over the phone. “You alright, darlin’?”

Holding yourself up with an iron grip on the toilet seat, you let out a long breath.

Don’t puke again. Don’t puke again. Don’t puke again.

“Yeah, just—can I call you back, Dad?” You managed, slowly reaching for your phone.

“‘Course. I'd better get back to the lake, anyway. Give Porn Stache and my little Sarah-Banana my love.”

“He has a name, Dad.” You smiled weakly.

“He’s gotta earn it back after the divorce.”

“We’re not divorced anymore.”

“You know what I mean.”

And, with the routine exchange of ‘I-love-you’s, you ended the call, squeezing your eyes shut and letting your head hang above the toilet bowl.

This wasn’t normal.

‘This’ being, spontaneously hurling your guts out without preamble or provocation. And people don’t just throw up for fun.

A tiny, traitorous voice elbowed its way to the front of your mind. Unless…

No.

No, you couldn’t be. There was no need to panic; you had an IUD.

Sitting yourself on the toilet seat, you very ungracefully spread your legs and felt your way up your walls.

No strings. No IUD. 

Maybe there was a need to panic.

You sighed, angling your head up at the ceiling. There was only one way to test the very realistic hypothesis you didn’t dare say, let alone think, aloud.

So, you cleaned yourself up, grabbed your car keys, and headed to the nearest drug store.

When Joel came home a few hours later, you were already waiting for him at the kitchen table.

He stepped through the doorway, boots heavy against the hardwood, and froze mid-step upon seeing you there. Because you were stone-faced, worrying your lower lip with your upper teeth, and clasping your hands over the table like you always did when you had to get something off your chest.

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together. “Sweetheart? You okay?”

He tentatively neared you.

You didn’t answer. Not right away. You hadn’t exactly prepared a speech in all the hours you had before Joel ended work.

“Baby, you’re scarin’ me.” He whispered, taking another step.

And then, he knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in his and gently running his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Don’t get mad.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Now, why would I get mad?” A delicate kiss to your left wrist.

“Because…”

You took a breath. No sense in sugarcoating this.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words slipped out like they didn’t belong to you.

Understandably, Joel’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeated, slowly, voice barely surpassing that of a whisper.

You nodded and pulled away to reach to the side, pulling a little brown bag from the drugstore onto the table and tipping it over. Three sticks clattered out.

All positive.

“Before you say anything,” You hugged yourself, watching as Joel’s mind buffered. “Yes, it’s yours. Yes, I thought I had an IUD. Apparently, it fell out. No, I didn’t know before today.”

Joel was still oddly quiet.

Your heart violently pounded against your ribs like it was trying to break free.

“Say something.” You whispered. “Please.”

“I don’t quite know what to say.” Joel shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. 

“Anything. Say anything.” You braced yourself for the worst.

“I mean, I’m thrilled—”

What?

“You’re thrilled?” You echoed, not entirely convinced.

“Yeah, fuck, sweetheart. I am. Thrilled, but awfully caught off-guard.” Joel ran a hand down his face.

A breathy laugh escaped from his mouth, and he leaned slightly back on his heels.

“I mean, one minute I’m patchin’ drywall in someone’s guest bathroom, and the next, you’re tellin’ me I’m gonna be a dad again.” His voice cracked a little on the last word, but the big smile growing on his face told you that he harboured no trace of fear or devastation at all.

You blinked.

“So… you’re okay with this?”

Joel’s smile widened.

“I love you, baby. ‘Case that weren’t clear enough.” He took your hands in his again, your fingers dwarfed in his big calloused palms. He squeezed your hands gently in a wordless reassurance. “And, I’ve already been fortunate enough to have one incredible kid with you. The thought of doin’ it again … well, that ain’t somethin’ I’d complain about in a million years.”

You were speechless for a moment, lost in the magnetic pull of his impossibly warm, sincere eyes.

God, you loved him.

“This was not how I thought this conversation would go.” You admitted.

“You really thought I’d run for the hills?” Joel chuckled, shoulders bobbing.

“Fifty-fifty.”

He grinned even wider, the wrinkles creasing the edges of his eyes disappearing.

Then, he opened his mouth to say something. And then, apparently, decided against it, pressing his lips together. 

You tilted your head to the side. “What is it?”

Joel shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, hesitating again.

“Ah shit,” He eventually muttered. “I was hopin’ to make this a little more special.”

“Make what more special?” You arched a brow.

“Stay right there, sweetheart, don’t you move.”

Before you could ask another question, Joel turned on his heel and bolted out of the kitchen. Judging by the quick, dull thuds ascending the stairs, he had run off to the second floor.

You sat there, stunned.

A full minute passed. Then two. The faint sounds of drawers opening and shutting drifted down the stairs. Almost a ruckus enough to drown out a muffled string of quiet curses. 

It didn’t take long for Joel to return after that.

And when he did, he held his hands behind his back and smiled brightly.

“Joel, what are you…?” You laughed.

But the breath from your lungs was stolen for you when he slowly knelt in front of you, revealing what he was looking for upstairs.

Small. Silver. Studded with a single shining diamond. Princess-cut, of course, you picked it out yourself.

“Is that…?” You whispered, covering your mouth with your hands.

“Yeah,” Joel nodded, eyes soft. “Yeah, it is.”

You shook your head slowly. “You were supposed to sell it.”

“Well, I didn’t.” He gave you a sheepish little look. “Y’know, for safekeepin’.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your eyes kept flicking between his face and the ring.

Your ring.

“Are you … proposing again?”

“Is it that obvious?” He raised his eyebrows, gasping slightly theatrically.

You lightly smacked his shoulder, rolling your eyes, but failed to disguise the wide beam forming on your face. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.” Joel interrupted softly. “I want to.”

He drew in a breath, steadying himself and glancing down at the ring in his hands.

“I was gonna wait a little while longer ‘til I did this again. Let things settle, maybe find the right moment. But, well, I feel like this is the right moment.”

And he looked up at you.

And, seeing the tenderness on his face, you already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t even asked yet.

“I love you. And I am dead-set on doin’ things right, this time around. I’ll take out the trash more, cook on weeknights, hell—I’ll even go to those damn parent-teacher meetings. Long as I get to be with you again. Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I ain’t lettin’ you go this time.”

You blinked fast, attempting to overcome the emotion swelling in your chest and threatening to leak out of your eyes.

“Meant what I said that night,” Joel murmured, bringing your knuckles against his lips, eyes still holding onto yours. “You’re it for me. You’re everything. Always will be.”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders softening as he held your gaze.

“So.” He cracked a shy little smile. “If it weren’t clear enough until now, I’d like to marry you, if you’ll have me. And I’ll spend every last breath I have lovin’ you like you deserve. And you deserve far more than I can give, but I’m willing to try my damndest, anyway.”

Joel raised the ring, the jewel catching the fluorescent lights of the overhead lighting and shimmering softly.

“So … will you marry me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice low and vulnerable and hopeful. And then, he added through a light laugh, “...again?”

His eyes held yours as if the world had narrowed down to just this moment. An entirely fitting simile, because the truth of the matter was that you were his world. And such a fact was written plainly in every line of his face, in how he wore every piece of his heart in his eyes.

You didn’t give him an answer.

Instead, you leaned forward, cupped his jaw with trembling fingers, and kissed him.

You pressed all the feelings you had accumulated over the past day onto his lips. Fear, wholeness, but most potently—love.

And Joel gave the latter and more back to you, curling a hand into your hair and holding you against him, his brows furrowed.

When you pulled back, a smile tugged at your lips.

Breathless, he asked, “That a yes?”

“What do you fucking think?” You outstretched your left hand.

“Just checkin’.” He grinned, gently took your hand, and slid the ring onto your ring finger. It fit just as perfectly as the first time.

Joel turned your hand slightly, admiring the way the diamond glinted, how it sat there like it had never left. 

“Looks real good on you,” He murmured, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. 

Your heart was full and thudding as you stared down at it. And then at him.

“Always did.”

Through a love-drunk smile, he slurred, “is that right?”

Then you leaned in and kissed him again. Slower this time, but just as deep. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, the other still holding yours, and for a few seconds, the rest of the world vanished.

You were so lost in the kiss, you almost didn’t notice how Joel’s jeans grew tighter, giving way to a hardness in his lap caused by the sensation of your body against his.

However, you did notice how Joel snaked his big hands under your thighs, lifting you onto the table.

You gasped against his lips. “What—?”

Urgently, “Where’s Sarah?”

“Sleeping over at a friend’s house. Why?”

You pulled away just enough to catch the almost depraved grin that split his mouth, heightened by a certain dark glint in his half-lidded stare.

Almost too casually, almost as if it was incredibly obvious, Joel replied, “Gonna make sure it sticks, baby.” 

And he pushed you down, causing you to lie flat on your back, a half-baked protest swallowed by his mouth and dying on your tongue. Or rather, his.

He hitched your shirt up, up, up, until the fabric gathered just below your collarbone.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Joel tutted. “Need to show these tits some love before I gotta share ‘em.”

Well, fuck.

With that, he trailed a messy line of kisses down to your sternum, nipped at the peak of your right tit like he just couldn’t help himself, and closed his mouth around your nipple.

You gasped, a hand clinging to his messy curls, holding him to you as he took and took.

He alternated between swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud and sucking it into his mouth, brows knitted as if he couldn’t decide whether pleasure was pain or salvation.

And it wasn’t long before he gave the same amount of attention to your other tit, moaning against your tender skin in desperate need, unable to get enough of you.

You were practically drowning in a pool of your own arousal from Joel’s ministrations, feeling a demanding wetness grow in your underwear by the second.

If he didn’t touch you there, you were very sure you’d—

But your hazy mind was robbed of finishing that thought when Joel came off your tits with a wet pop, leaving a light sheen across your cleavage, and dipped his fingers under the waistband of your sweats.

With an impatient yank, he pulled them down, revealing the dampened seat of your panties. An airy curse left his lips.

“Can I—?” He breathed.

“Yes.” You nodded, instantly.

Feverishly, he shredded the material in half with eager hands, leaving the halves to hang loosely on your hips.

A low growl escaped from his throat.

You were drooling for him, puffy folds glistening with your wetness and beckoning him to indulge himself in the most irresistible of temptations.

And Joel was nothing if not a sinner.

“Fuck that’s pretty.” He sighed. “Need me that badly, huh?”

You whined restlessly in response.

Taking such a noise as assent, Joel easily slid a thick finger into your crying mound, stroking your pulsing walls.

He gave no time for acclimatisation and, shortly after, sunk a second finger alongside the first, curling both again and again and reaching that spot of yours that summoned little black dots to dance in your vision.

“One more, baby.” He cooed. “One more and I give you my cock, hm?”

A third soon joined his motions, and you flung an arm up to grasp his bicep, feeling it tense as he pumped his fingers and dragged down your walls at an erratic pace.

Sweet words spilt in a loose mumble from his mouth, easing you into your orgasm. His lips worshipped you with whispers, ceaselessly praising:

That’s my girl.

C’mon, baby, just like that.

So pretty for me.

And other such gentle murmurs.

He continued fucking you with his fingers, relentless in face of your writhing, until, with a scream of his name and your clint grinding against the heel of his palm, your stomach tightened, fluttered, and let go.

“There we go. Oh, so good for me.” He sighed, breath tickling the hollow of your ear as he worked you through your climax.

When the tingling pleasure had fully subsided, he slid his fingers from you and kissed a path up your neck to your lips, licking into your mouth almost greedily.

As if it were second nature, your hands flew to undo his belt, desperately trying not to break the kiss and feeling Joel smile against you.

Just when you found the outline of his hardness in his boxers, Joel groaned and took your wrists in his hands, pinning them over your head against the cool oak of the table.

“Let me.” He said, breathing raggedly.

And he shifted to take hold of both your wrists with his left hand, while his right hurriedly fished himself out of his jeans.

You never quite got used to the obscene sight, and you doubted that you ever would; thick and tanned and dribbling slightly with pearls of his precome.

And, lord help you, he was big.

Joel hovered his mouth above your needy cunt as he slowly pumped his drooling cock. You held your breath, mistaking his position for a hesitant desire to taste you and fuck you with his tongue. 

To your surprise, Joel, instead, spat directly onto your quivering pussy.

You gasped as if it was betrayal, clenching on nothing as his glob of spit slid down your already-dripping mound like a soft caress. 

“Please.” You whined pathetically, hands still stubbornly restrained and held captive by the broad span of his left hand.

He lined himself up, nudging his flushed, almost angry tip against your soaked entrance. And, with a firm grip around his base, he dragged his cock through your puffy folds once, then twice. And the creamy blend of his precome, your arousal, and his spit smeared over his head, staining it in a pale blur.

“You don’t gotta beg, sweetheart.” Joel shushed you, dipping down to press a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You know I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll give you everything. Give you the whole damn world if you asked for it.”

Despite the almost painful dawdling, his words were a soothing reassurance.

Another pass through your soaked folds. And then another, his tip catching onto the seam of your cunt for a single delicious second.

And then, in a low, possessive rumble, “Anything for the mother of my children.”

You squirmed against his hold, feeling a bolt of heat run through you, unable to stifle a moan bubbling up your throat. 

The mother of my children.

Your moan, however, quickly graduated into a shrill wail of his name as he chose that exact second to sink his drooling cock into you, forcing himself in until he was seated fully inside.

A sharp inhale came through his clenched jaw.

“Fuck, you feel perfect.” He whispered, more to himself than to you, but you were happy for the praise.

He was a tight fit; this, you knew.

Oh, you knew.

Every slow push in of his thick cock against your tight walls caused you to choke his length. Every slow drag out pulled a shaky breath from your parted lips.

“Yeah—” His breath caught in his throat as he felt you clamp down on him after an especially rough thrust. “—that’s it, mama, let me in. Jus’ like that. We’ll take it slow, for now. Then I’ll fuck you full of my come, again. Make sure I put a baby in you.”

You felt yourself flutter around him in response, pulling a breathless expletive from his lips. His dick twitched inside you, practically begging to make good on that promise.

And there was that depraved grin again. “Oh, you like that? ‘S true, mama.”

He rolled his hips into you again. 

And again.

“I’d give you ten more if I could.” He grunted, cloudy, lust-drowned eyes locked onto yours. “Love knowing that it’s my come in there, swelling you up. My baby. My woman.”

And, with that assertive claim, Joel picked up the pace, setting a tempo that had you on the verge of passing out.

You were overwhelmed by the sensation of his cock pounding in and out of you, the insistent sound of his balls slapping wetly against your ass, the feel of being held in place by his grip on your wrists—powerless to the force of his adamant desire.

Joel’s gaze fell to your tits, which were helplessly jostled by every persistent thrust of his hips.

“And these…” He all but growled, his free hand coming down to brush a thumb over one of your nubs. You shivered in response. “Fuck, they’ll look so pretty, all swollen up.”

A familiar warmth pooled in your gut; your eyes fluttered uncontrollably; your heartbeat sped up against your ribs as if it were going to burst out.

You were going to come. And hard.

“Joel—Joel, I’m close.” You bleated.

He grunted from above you in acknowledgement, stray curls falling over his forehead as he rammed into you. And he brought his hand to press against your belly, feeling the faint outline of him sawing into you.

“Let go for me, then, beautiful. Let me feel you come on my dick.”

And you did. 

And it was toe-curling and back-arching and forceful. So forceful, in fact, that it managed to steal your consciousness away for a moment or two.

Your eyes fluttered open after you had ridden out the entirety of your orgasm, finding Joel breathing heavily through his nose above you, his pace paused.

“Shit, that was pretty.” He said, in awe, releasing your wrists from over your head. “You got one more in you, baby?”

Unable to speak, you nodded.

Smiling proudly, Joel whispered, “Attagirl.”

He carefully pulled out of you—which made you involuntarily whine at the sad feeling of being so empty—and gently turned you over, your stomach pressed against the table and your feet planted on the floor.

Not wasting another second, Joel fed you his entire cock in one steady thrust.

You hissed as your walls once again struggled to accommodate his generous size, but were ultimately helpless to the throes of his white-hot need.

His arms came around you, hugging you to him and pinning you flat to the table under his crushing weight as he slowly built up a rhythm that matched his earlier manic tempo.

The carpenter of the table that had stood in your kitchen for over a decade probably hadn’t foreseen that such craftsmanship would be instrumental in the ferocity of Joel dicking you down. But you were, nevertheless, thankful for the sturdiness of his creation.

Because Joel fucked you into that table like he wanted to break it.

Every thrust had his tip kissing your cervix.

Every thrust sent the table knocking against the hardwood floor.

Every thrust had you seeing stars.

“Make some noise for me, mama.” Joel’s voice was in your ear, low and absolutely wrecked. “Show me how good it feels.”

Obediently, your mouth fell agape. An incoherent string of moans and mewls of his name spilt from your lips, tumbling out in a staccato rhythm that was emphasised by every snap of his hips as he frantically chased his release.

It took a dozen more before you felt him seize up.

“I’m … shit, I’m almost there, baby.” He gasped shakily. 

And, miraculously, so were you. You would’ve alerted him of such a fact if he hadn’t already fucked your brains out.

Oblivious to your predicament, Joel continued. “You’re gonna take it, aren’t you? S’all you can do, baby. Lay there and look pretty while I stuff you full of my come.”

“Please.” You whimpered. “Please, Joel—”

He came like he had been holding off for an eternity, shooting pearly ropes of his seed inside you, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, and face desperately buried into the crook of your neck.

Thankfully, his orgasm sent you toppling over the edge for what felt like the thousandth time that night, and you fell completely limp against the cool surface of the table as Joel rode out the last of his climax.

He recovered after a minute, pressed a sweaty kiss to the spot in between your shoulder blades, and delicately pulled out, wincing as he did so.

“That enough for you? Hm? Let me see.”

Tiredly, you spread your legs and pushed your ass out. Needless to say, Joel was entranced by the filthy sight of his milky come oozing slowly out of you.

“Oh, baby.” He tutted. “As beautiful as that is, we can’t let that go to waste, now can we?”

He didn’t wait for a response and gingerly plugged your cunt with two thick fingers, pushing his come back inside. You blew out a breath at the sensation.

“That’s it,” Joel cooed, eyebrows furrowed. And then, softer, “that's my girl.”

Satisfied that he probably gave you twins, Joel gently took your chin in his hand and leaned down to press his lips against yours.

It was tender and slow and felt like home. Because, as you finally realised all those weeks ago, Joel was your home.

“You okay?” He mumbled into the kiss.

You pulled away, a dopey grin on your face. “You know, we should really do this on a bed, sometime.”

Joel laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did.

“Good thinking.” He smiled.

thank YOU for reading and for waiting (my bad) and ty all for the love & support y'all have given for this two-parter!! hard to believe there are people who are interested in the silly things i write :-) more to come!! 🏷️ (1/3 — sorry if your @ somehow didn’t work?? tumblr isn’t feeling me today): @onlythehobi, @billionairecowgirl, @lonely-ey3s, @kellyxo1, @missxjennipascal, @bloodyfkghell, @marlynn97, @pedritosgfreal, @kja06, @hhallefuckinglujahh, @irmpyrz, @joelspeach, @lostinthestreamofconsciousness, @mori1b2bpad, @hannahmassey30, @staley83, @lanternnightgarden, @themarvelousmaks, @ilovppascal, @yslgreen, @joelspickle, @possiblyafangirl, @strawberrylis, @bonneyszk, @whaddupbaby, @callofdiva, @trixcate, @p1tterp4atter, @immalosersblog, @sohaaa6, @alesomoza99, @faceache111, @pedge-page, @appl3ogr, @heartsandstars34, @niaissodone, @reiketsunomizunomegami, @zohree, @beebloopbleep, @holholliday, @amoooeba, @smexy-bucky-waifu, @keerygal, @pearl-diver-m, @teenytinylilcrawdaddies, @oh-thats-cute, @ivuravix, @kissykris, @lovesbyblog, and @wkuwcb.

[sparrows4bats]

Royal Damian, who was raised by the Al Ghuls and just regular person Jon got me in chokehold.

I like to imagine that after Ras died and Talia inherited the League, she and Damian revived and reformed it together.

Damian leaves Gotham to become what he was raised to be, the new leader of the League.

His father tries to stop him, but Damian goes because he believes that the League can be what he was supposed to be. Better, and Damian can use all that he has learnt with his family to make it so.

The new League focuses on the betterment of the world. Environmental programmes and safeguarding land and habitats.

They rescue people, refugees, and people with nowhere else to go. Many stay with them.

They stop taking contracts and trade in medical research, biomedical advancement, pharmaceuticals, rare herbs, and other plants, and occasionally, information.

Damian and Talia use their many degrees to revolutionise health care and engineering worldwide.

Nanda Parata becomes its own nation, under the rule of its royal family and council of diplomatically elected officials.

The world loses its mind when Nanda Parat enters the world stage and becomes a staunch defender of independent human rights globally.

It loses its mind further when they realise the prince of this new nation is the youngest son of Gothamite socialite Brucie Wayne!

Queen Talia releases a statement confirming the rumours and announcing their marriage along with wedding photos.

There is frenzied debate on whether Brucie is royalty. Tim and Jason get Nanda Parat citizenship just so they can claim to be part of the royal family. They expect Damian to be annoyed, but he laughs in their faces and assigns them public appearances and paperwork for months.

Dick, Cass, and Duke are also kind of royals, but Damian doesn't torture them.

Talia and Damian become media darlings and fashion icons. They are beautiful, rich, and intelligent. It's the first time anyone questions whether Bruce married up. Especially after Talia and Damian get papped at the beach.

Damian has fan accounts, edits, and thirst posts within hours of his official introduction. He is elegant, refined, and poised to be one of the most powerful people in the world by age 30.

So when Damian accidentally reveals he is dating someone in a tiktok Dick films, the Internet explodes with speculation.

Every eligible male celebrity around the globe is asked whether they are Damian Wayne Al Ghul Mystery Man. They all reply no, but many answer that they would date the prince in a heartbeat if given the chance.

Fans make lists of who they think might deserve him, others spin wild conspiracies about who it might be.

It grabs headlines after one particular theory about Damian potentially dating Robin goes viral.

Imagine the reaction when Jonathan Kent is photographed kissing Damian outside the UN.

Pandemonium.

Who is this man?

How did they meet?

He is very pretty for a farmboy, but how did he land a literal prince?

What does Talia think?

The answer comes when someone shouts something rude at the boys one day outside a gala. Talia holds the fool at swordpoint while threatening them with charging them for harassment of the royal family.

Safe to say, Jon Kent is made an icon for standing at the side of his iconic husband.

He is living the dream.

[loverboysturn]

⸝⸝ a tipsy walk home with the triplets, birdie & lucky ꒱

OR everyone’s tipsy, nick is over it, chris is in trouble, matt & lucky are a little more obvious than they realise and birdie is growing suspicious.

please note: just want to drop some lore and show the group dynamic when they are all together all cutely before i start to up the angst oops. this is written from soulmate!reader (birdie’s) perspective.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smoking and sex.

“this is always our most stupid fuckin’ idea after every night out,” nick mutters, tugging the hoodie under his jacket up over his head. “why do we always do this? uber exists for a fuckin’ reason.”

it’s two am, and you’re all tipsy, walking home from a big house party that nate had got you all invited to like this was a good idea, like your feet aren’t already hurting, like you won’t regret this decision in the morning when they’re battered and bruised from your new knee high boots that you insisted on wearing tonight, and then insisted on keeping on for the walk home. 

you’re giggling at nick as he continues to rant, the topic now shifting to the boy he met tonight when you accidentally stumble on the pavement, catching yourself on chris’s arm and although he’s drunk himself, he’s steadying you straight away with one hand, as the other searches for something in his jacket pocket.

you glance up at him, frowning. “really? i thought you’d quit.”

he doesn’t answer your question, just grins at you as he pulls a pack of marlboro reds from the back pocket of his jeans, changing his position so he’s walking backwards to face you.

he rests a cigarette between his lips and lights it, smirking at you as he winks in your direction.

“you’re actually gross.” you say, nose wrinkling. “you know that, right?”

he exhales the smoke in your direction, deliberately as another shameless smirk creeps onto his face. “weren’t sayin’ that earlier when ya mouth was full of my coc—“

you’re already giggling before he finishes the sentence, your face warm as you tuck further into chris’s side. he says nothing more, just slips his hand into yours instead, intertwining your fingers with his, as he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, lifting them to his lips to press a soft, gentle kiss there as he whispers that he loves you.

it’s surprisingly sweet of him considering you’d both just spent the last hour of the party letting him ruin you in someone’s parents’ guest bathroom.

you walk like that for a few minutes, hand in hand, chris close to you as nick still mumbles beside you about the same guy from tonight. matt is also by your side too now, his hands stuffed in his pocket, walking quietly with his head down.

“i’m not walking any further in these heels,” lucky announces suddenly from behind you, stopping dead in the middle of the empty road like the drama queen she’s always been known to be, “and i’m not walking barefoot either.”

you let go of chris’s hand, giggling again as you turn to glance back at her. she’s got her arms crossed, heels already off swinging from one hand, her sparkly sequined skirt shimmering as it reflects off of a nearby streetlight. 

you glance sideways at matt who exhales like he’s ticking over his decision in his brain but he doesn’t say a word. he just walks over and crouches in front of her with a pretend huff. 

“c’mon.” he says, glancing at her over his shoulder. “not waitin’ all night for you to get on.”

she laughs at him and jumps up, her legs wrapping around his waist, arms placed loosely around his neck. they catch up to you, nick and chris quickly as they walk in front. you catch the way lucky leans in to whisper something in matt’s ear that makes his mouth twitch into a smirk and then her skirt rides up slightly, and you also catch the way he reaches back, first to tug it down. then, instinctively his hand lingers and he squeezes her ass so casually, almost like muscle memory to him.

you pause mid step, eyes narrowing slightly to check you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing. she’s still talking in his ear, and he’s nodding and laughing at whatever it is she’s saying like none of this is slightly out of the ordinary. 

“oh my god,” you whisper, leaning in towards chris as you continue to walk. “do you see them?” 

chris doesn’t even glance up from his phone now in his hand. “see what, baby?”

“matt and lucky.”

“what about them?”

“what do you mean what about them?” you roll your eyes, mimicking his tone of voice. “they’re all over each other.” 

chris finally looks up, then over to them, then back to you. “they’ve always been like that, birdie.”

“no they haven’t,” you huff at him, knowing that he’s not really listening to you, “never like that.”

but before he can respond, matt turns in your direction calling chris’s name, lucky still on his back. “apartment’s there.” he points, a smirk on his face as your final destination is finally in view after what feels like forever. “race you.” 

chris tosses his cigarette and turns to you with a grin, that look on his face that you know all too well and before you can even say another word, he’s scooping you up in his arms bridal style, taking off in a sprint after matt.

nick joins in racing past all of you, laughing as he shouts, “last one to the apartment pays for brunch tomorrow.”

[smoking-pipeweed]

That Aragorn smut piece was fucking great!!

Don't suppose you could write one for Legolas? My head canon is that elves only have sex of the regular kind (p in v) and that's it. They don't even know what oral is. So when the Prince of Mirkwood meets a mortal woman who he becomes infatuated with, she shows him what oral sex can be like. He's nervous at first but she soothes him and convinces him to trust her. Eventually his instincts kick in and he's thrusting into her mouth and she loves every inch of it, placing his hands in her hair encouraging him to grip her.

Yes of course my queen~

Indulge

Legolas x f!reader smut

[ Lord of the Rings Masterlist ] Summary: Legolas has never heard of oral sex before. You, a human, decide to teach (and show) him. Word Count: 2.5k

Content warning (MDNI): Explicit sexual content - oral sex (M receiving), inexperienced!legolas, hair pulling, gagging/deepthroating (light), mild roughness, power shift (sub!legolas -> milddom!legolas), mortal x elf

It was a late night in Mirkwood. The carved cave palace was settling, with elf residents now retreating to their quarters and rooms, leaving only the night guards to creep the halls. Only a certain elven prince and his secret are sneaking about.

"Come," he spoke as he pulled you with him by your intertwined hands down the quiet halls of his father's huge palace.

"Legolas, are you sure?" you said with hesitation.

He doesn't answer, but only continues pulling you with him quickly with a devilish smile. The impish prince was trying to sneak you, a mortal woman, into his room without causing a fuss with the guards.

You felt so out of place in this ethereal world. You had met Legolas many times before, always having your meetings lead to flirtatious banter and sometimes some stolen kisses if you were bold enough. But with you passing through Mirkwood for a short time whilst handling some supply deliveries from Rivendell, it allowed you to see your little elven crush once again. Only this time, something was telling you it was going to go a little differently.

You both reached some large, dark oak wooden doors at the end of a long hallway, and Legolas quickly pulled you both inside eagerly. He let go of your hand to close the door and slid across a latch concealed in the fine carvings of the wood, one that only he would know of.

You took in his large room. White stone walls were draped with tapestries of greens, browns and blues. The floor held an elegant fur rug, and small candles burned on the bedside tables. There was a subtle scent of crushed herbs and old wood. It was heavenly.

"Woah. Just the habitat I'd expect for a prince," you teased as you looked over your shoulder at him.

Legolas bowed his head. "Would it please you, just for tonight?" he asked. You nodded while offering a smile of gratefulness.

The elf approached you slowly, almost cautiously, and you lifted your hands to press against his chest as he came close.

His soft hands found your face and held it so delicately as you looked up at him, almost towering over you with his elven height. "You know, Y/N, my love, I do not expect you to do anything with me," he stated as he pressed his forehead lightly against yours.

You sighed at the soothing feeling of his thumbs against your cheek and his forefingers caressing the shell of your ears. You failed to ignore the loud butterflies that had grown in your stomach from his closeness, though.

"I have never been with an elf," you admitted to him.

"And I have never known such closeness with a human," he matched. You're gaze softened as one of his hands dropped to your neck and brushed your hair away from your skin.

"Do you want to be?"

A short, tense silence was present before he whispered. "If the mortal is you, mîr nín, then yes... without question."

And with that, his soft, warm lips crashed onto yours with a hunger you couldn't believe. You kissed back just as eagerly, tongue slipping out and running over his bottom lip, which he accepted into his mouth willingly and desperately.

Your hands run wildly over each other. Legolas had now moved to the top buttons of your long tunic to quickly undo them. He had half the mind to just rip them off, but his conscience told him to be patient.

He slowly encouraged you backwards towards his widespread bed, all the while his lips never left yours and his hands continued to fiddle at the lacings of your clothes. As the back of your knees felt the wooden frame of the bed, you let yourself fall.

It didn't take even a second for the elven prince to be on top of you, now nearly clawing to take off your tunic, which was now open and exposed to him. You felt yourself grow flushed under his strong gaze as his hands hovered over your chest, your stomach, the lacings of your bottoms, almost like he didn't know where to start.

"Legolas?" You spoke up under him softly. He snapped his gaze to your face.

"Are you okay, meleth nín?" he asked as he tucked his face into your neck and breathed in your scent.

You sucked in a sudden breath as you felt his wet tongue against the skin below your ear, feeling ticklish. "Yes, more than ever," you said breathlessly. "But please, get rid of this." You lightly pulled on his shirt.

Legolas let out a huffed laugh and crawled off of you. You sat up and watched as he removed his shirt and boots before climbing back into bed with his back against the headboard. "Come to me~" he purred while reaching out to you.

You basically crawled to him and got yourself comfortable as you straddled his lap. You felt pressure from him against your core through your thin undergarments, and felt nervousness creep over. He felt big.

The heat between you two felt infatuating. Legolas held onto you like you were the most prized thing in Middle-earth; such gentle touches, caresses and kisses.

But you grew bored of his gentleness after a few minutes, wanting something more.

You broke off your long, wet kiss from him and gave him a tender kiss on his forehead, making him smile softly with glossy eyes from how blissed out he seemed already.

You lightly gripped his jaw to angle his head to the side so you could go at the soft skin of his neck and below his beautiful, pointed ears. He faintly hummed at your tongue and light teeth against him, and you felt his hips buck slightly up into you. You encouraged his movements by grinding down onto him.

"Can you lie down, lovely?" you whispered in his ear before giving it a teasing flick of your tongue. He shivered and nodded.

When he had gotten more comfortable below you, his hips were now more erratic and desperate for your touch. You had decided you will help him out.

You slowly kissed down his sculpted body, making sure to love on every inch that you saw and listened carefully to the sounds he was making to know what was working.

Just as you reached the hem of his suede trousers, you heard his breath hitch. You slowly licked along the soft skin peaking out, trying to tease him, but you got no complaints from the prince.

You moved down and nudged your face against the large bulge in his pants. But as soon as you made contact, you felt his hand reach down and grip your arm tightly.

"Y/N?" he said in a weak tone. "What are you doing?"

You froze in your actions and glanced up at him. He was sitting up slightly on his elbows, watching you with a confused look on his face. His cheeks held a slight red tinge, and small pants escaped from between his lips. He looked ethereal.

"What do you mean?" you asked, resting your chin on his thigh.

"It's just..." he started, trying to think of what to say. "I've never had someone go down there like that."

You frowned. "Like what?"

"What you just did..." he said, unsure.

It took you a second to understand what he was meaning. But then it clicked.

"Oh. Oh~" you nearly purred. "Has this elven prince never had someone use their mouth on him?" you teased with a sickly sweet tone as you crawled back up his body and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

He looked up at you, suddenly flushed by your teasing remarks. "Their... mouth? Is that a mortal custom?"

You giggled at his answer. "Oh, Legolas, you elves have really been missing out if none of you know what oral sex is. What do you do in the bedroom? No foreplay?"

"What's foreplay?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes at his words. It astounded you how this absolute beauty of an elf man below you has never had his dick sucked. Where's the fun in elven sex if it's just plain old penetrative? But it made sense. With their perfection and reservedness, maybe it was a topic never discussed or delved into.

But, by god, how badly you now wanted to suck him off and to hear his moans bounce off the walls. You wished so badly to show him just how pleasurable sex can be, as long as he was willing to let you.

"Can I show you, my sweet?" you asked in a sweet tone.

Legolas looked concerned. "With your mouth?"

"Yes, honey. If you let me, I can make you feel really good." You slowly kiss down his chest. You feel his breath quicken.

"Are you certain?" he asked with a voice full of worry. You sit yourself back up and look at him lovingly. With a gentle hand, you reach out and run a hand through his long, blonde hair, fingering a loose, messy braid that sat behind his pointed ear.

"I promise you, love, that it will feel amazing for you. But I also promise that at any point you wish to stop, you just tell me and we don't have to continue."

And with your reassuring words, he nodded and lay his head back on the pillow while letting out a tense breath, anticipating what was to come.

You continued your endeavours from before, reaching the hem of his loose pants again. You dipped your head and mouthed against his bulge through the fabric, causing him to jump slightly.

You didn't want to tease him for too long. You quickly untied the strings on the front of his pants, and he lifted his hips so you could pull them down, taking the undergarments with them.

His length hit against his stomach with the red tip glistening lightly with precum. Legolas sat back up on his elbows as you got yourself comfortable between his legs.

"Just relax, prince, I'll take care of you~."

He watched as you wrapped your hands delicately around him, smearing the precum from the head further down for lube before moving your hand up and down his length a few times. He hummed in pleasure at your movements.

But when you leaned down and licked a long stripe from the base of him to the tip, his eyes were tightly shut, and he gasped from the feeling. His hands grabbed a fistful of the blankets beneath him.

Desperate to hear more from him, you gripped his cock in your hand and took him into your mouth.

Legolas let out an audible moan as you closed your warm, soft mouth around him and began to move. Very slowly at first, as you were worried you'd overwhelm him.

"Ahh~" he let out strongly. "Y/N..." he groaned your name while pushing his face into the pillow next to him.

You continued your agonisingly slow pace on him, which he began growing accustomed to. You felt his hips start to shift beneath you as you moved your head up and down, saliva coating his length and collecting on his smooth stomach.

You took yourself off his cock with a quiet pop and he whined from the loss of pleasure.

"You okay, Legolas?" you checked on him. He nods as he glances down at you, breathing heavily.

"Stars above... You are amazing," he puffed out, making you chuckle.

You go back to work on him, but this time, you sped up your movements. This made his moans increase threefold.

When opening your eyes to look up at him a few moments later, you caught a glimpse of one of his hands nearly tearing the sheets beneath him due to gripping them so hard. The other one was up by his head, arm covering his eyes and fist clenched tightly.

You gently reached out and grabbed his wrist from the hand on the bed. He took his arm off and looked down at you while panting.

The sight of you alone with his dick in your mouth as you gazed up at him so lovingly could have been enough for him to be sent over the edge, but Legolas was enjoying this way too much for him to want it to be over soon.

He let you guide his hand to your hair to show him what you wanted. He hovered it over you for a minute before gently running both hands through your locks. You sucked him a little harder to encourage him, and from that action alone his hands had gripped your hair in his fists and his head was thrown back.

"Ah... Elbereth~" he hissed. "What are you doing to me, Loss nín?"

The use of the Sindarin pet name turned you on immensely, and you started stroking the rest of his length that you could not fit into your mouth.

Then it was like something snapped in Legolas. He pulled you off of his length by your hair, making you wince slightly.

The look in his eyes was wild. Like something you had never seen before. His irises were darkened, and he stared at you like you were something he wanted to devour.

"Tell me if this becomes too much, meleth nín," he said with a strong tone of desire in his voice. You nod.

Suddenly, he forces himself back into your mouth, taking you completely by surprise. You didn't have much time to adjust to the sudden change before he was thrusting roughly into your warmth and hitting the back of your throat, making you gag on his cock.

His light, cute moans from before had now turned into growls. His hands in your hair completely controlled your movements, and he could feel within himself the pressure building in his abdomen.

You tried your best to withstand his power, but it was proven difficult. You haven't exactly ever had to deal with the larger cock of an elf, let alone a elven prince, but my god did you love it. You enjoyed this change in character that is so different from the usual, elegant, reserved personality he was, and what you loved most is that you brought this creature out.

Legolas's grip on your hair tightened as he came hard into your throat, forcing you to take his full length in and push your nose against the soft skin of his stomach. You were forced to swallow every drop he gave you.

He eventually dropped his hands from the back of your head, and you pulled yourself off his length, coughing slightly. Legolas sat up, still panting and glossy-eyed, as he gently grabbed your face.

"Mîr nín... You tremble. Are you certain you're well?" he checked on you with a soft voice. He nuzzled against the skin of your cheek affectionately.

"Yeah," you breathed out while offering him a cute smile. "I'm more than okay, my love."

He giggled at you. "Thank you, that was amazing."

With his strength, he wrapped his arms around your torso and flipped you both so you'd lie beneath him, trapping you like you were in a cage made of his body.

"Now then... shall I try this mortal art upon you?" he mischievously suggested while fumbling with the tie of your pants.

AN: Okay, LISTEN I am working on this Aragorn x reader fic at the moment but I'm making it long asf cause I love mutual pining and yearning. Hope this legolas smut has quenched ya'll for the time being. Please send in more requests if you have any~

[underscore-jude]

AUGHSUARHHHH I AM ONCE AGAIN REMINDED OF HOW MUCH I LOVE ELLA ASHMORE

her hearts truest desire in the moment which the fairy queen asks her what she wants is revenge and that is what she is granted!!! but the second that she's faced with the light at the end of the tunnel and realizes that there's going to be life after it she starts to panic cause she never thought that far! planning for the long term isn't usually an option for someone who is just trying to survive their current situation!

and she doesn't want to be queen- not with the way the current system is. not with the prince as her king. she has to take the time to really think about what her sweetest dream after revenge would be.

Ever After is the first time she's ever gotten to think about what her life could be like after she has the Steps out of it! And its confusing and difficult and hard to fathom but at least it's her struggle, internally, man vs. self after a lifetime of man vs man.

and by the time she finally achieves her first goal, the whirlwind is over and she's gotten her revenge and she finally gets to be just Ella for the first time in forever, without the Stepmother or the Fairy Queen looming at her back, Tadius is standing there with the crown.

And Ella's ready to answer her own question- she is ready!!! fuck i love her so much

[venusbyline]

Out of Love (2/4)

chapter one

— summary: Everyone talks about how Aegon the Conqueror married one sister out of duty and the other one out of desire. Unlike his ancestor, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon wants to marry both his aunt and his cousin out of love.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!reader x Baela Targaryen

— type: smut, angst

— chapter's warnings: female!reader, Targcest (nephew/aunt & cousin/cousin), throuple, lesbian sex, oral sex (female receiving), cunnilingus, face-sitting, nipple licking, dom!Baela, sub!reader, secret relationship, argument, "break up", hurt/no comfort, reader is Alicent's second daughter, canon divergence (No The Dance of the Dragons). no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: I was sooo excited to write this chapter 💕💕 I hope you guys like that one too

— author's notes²: Out of Love is a mini series involving Targcest, throuple and forbidden love.

— author's notes³: Each chapter will contain its own trigger warnings.

❥ Jacaerys masterlist • Baela masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

"No. Absolutely no."

Rhaenyra's answer came firmly. Coldly. Without any hint of doubt between the words.

Jacaerys had chosen to speak to his mother in private, away from the prying ears of the guards or Daemon's smug expression watching everything that would be said between them. It had not been easy to find a moment when she was free of any royal duties, and as soon as he found an opportunity, he immediately called her to talk about the matter that had been troubling him so much in these last few days.

The question had not taken long to be uttered, it came without any prior explanation, without any contextualization of the reasons behind his plea — a big mistake to make in a situation like that, for sure. The prince's characteristic impulsiveness always speaking louder than his common sense.

"Why not, Mother?" Jace disputed the Queen's simple answer. Both he and she were too impatient to explain themselves. "You always said I have the right to marry who I love!"

Rhaenyra let out a small nasal scoff, shuffling through the parchments she was about to read before her firstborn son entered the empty Council's room. Although she did not want to be mean to her dear son, it was impossible to act as if his proposal was not absurd. "Yes, to marry who you love. If you loved one person you love, not two."

His eyes darkened at what he heard. "That is ridiculous, Mother. I would not be the first Targaryen man to have more than one wife."

"Are you trying to use our House's history against a ruler?" the Queen raised an eyebrow, looking up from the parchment and at Jacaerys, who huffed in frustration and turned his head away, understanding that he needed to convey those impulses better.

The minutes that followed were torturous for both of them, both Rhaenyra and Jace not enjoying being part of that tense argument. The last thing Rhaenyra wanted was hurting her own child's feelings, the sight of him with fists clenched on either side of his body and his jaw clenched was enough to ache her heart, but the tears that were building up in his tear ducts made her almost sink with guilt.

She wanted to agree, to tell her son that everything would be fine and she would allow him to be happy as he wished. However, she could not. "I am so sorry, Jace."

Baela and you were walking through the corridors of the Red Keep and wearing flight clothes after spending a few hours with the dragons, a nice pastime you had started sharing lately. Jacaerys always flew together too, Vermax, Moondancer and Seasmoke loved each other's company in the skies. In that afternoon, though, the prince and his dragon were unable to join in the usual fun.

No one told you the specific reasons. Jacaerys had not been seen during the morning and had not joined the rest of the family for the breakfast. Also, he and the Queen were busy with something that no servant knew about.

"Probably political matters. That's all," Baela assured when you questioned her for the second time as you reached the hallway to her chambers, opening the doors and raising the blinds to enjoy the sunny day once again since you had left the Red Keep earlier.

Such reassuring words did not have the necessary effect to lessen the anxious thoughts that were bothering you so much.

It was strange that no trusted servant had come to tell you about the prince demanding your presence in his private chambers, as usual. The two of you always spent time there: talking, having sex with Baela too or just between yourselves when the other princess was busy or just did not want to participate during those acts — they did not mind sharing you without the other one around. Jacaerys could have sex with you alone whenever he wanted, Baela could have sex with you alone whenever she wanted. Just as they could have sex alone whenever they wanted too, there was no jealousy between the three of you.

"What is wrong, darling?" she asked when you took a long time to lie down next to her on the bed. Her clothes were already thrown on the floor, while yours remained with all the ties intact. "We can do this another time if you do not want it to now."

You smiled at your cousin's soft tone, appreciating how she always cared about your well-being. "No, I want to. I just... I feel like my mind worried about too many things," despite everything, you began to undo the ties of your flight clothes, the gentle breeze perking your nipples, your nakedness matched hers. "Perhaps I will feel better if you want to help me."

"I always want to," her mischievous voice drew a giggle from you and you climbed onto the mattress, her body shivering because of you sitting on top of her.

She loved the feeling of your soft lips against hers, the way you moaned during the kiss and became so sensitive to something like that. Perhaps it was because of your inexperience involving sexual practices or perhaps it was because of your romantic feelings for Baela... You were always so needy for her.

Kissing her felt like heavens. The bitter taste of the lemonade both of you had drunk for breakfast was worth savoring, your hand grabbing her hair while her hand held the back of your neck to keep you from pulling away.

Before Baela could put you on top of her face, you interrupted her, pulling back. "Not now. Let me eat your cunt out first," she raised an eyebrow at your request, not because she did not enjoy receiving pleasure, but because she was more used to being the one who gave it to you, not the other way around. "Sit on my face. Please!"

"Are you sure?" Baela asked softly, bringing her fingers to your cheekbone and receiving a nod in response. "Alright, go ahead then, darling."

You lay down without waiting a minute, biting your lip and breathing deeply with the change of positions. Baela left quick kisses on your upper part, adoring your breasts with licks and nips around your perky nipples until they turned reddish. Finally, she positioned herself on top of your kiss-wet lips, spitting on her fingers and rubbing they on her own cunt and lowering herself to where she needed to be.

A loud moan echoed through her chambers as she felt you begin to lick her wet, brown cunt greedily, so hungry to sink into her and suck every drop that leaked from there.

No matter how many times you savoured it, her taste was always divine and always left you weak in the knees, desperate for more. On top of you, Baela moaned and grabbed your hair harder, her clit throbbing more and more with each stimulation.

She could stay there forever, rubbing herself against that soft mouth, feeling sensitive and unable to avoid the loud sounds.

If any servant or even another family member passed through those corridors, none of the princesses cared at that moment. Baela wanted to sink into the pleasure she was receiving, to ignore all the worries that flooded her mind, all the worries about the fact that Jacaerys had spoken to Rhaenyra in the morning and had not yet shown up to notify her of the official answer he received.

Although she wanted to be optimistic about the whole situation, it was not hard to imagine that the odds were not in their favors. The Queen would probably never allow something like that.

If only Jacaerys' claim to the Iron Throne was not challenged so often...

Just as you began to focus your licks on Baela's clit and then put it between your lips to suck it, the doors suddenly opened, and the princesses let out two simultaneous gasps. Baela hurriedly removed herself from your face, sitting on the mattress and trying to hide her trembling legs and her wet cunt with the white bedsheets — although it was not necessary, the person in front of her had already seen both of you naked and in every possible position.

"Jace? Where are you—"

"Can you please leave us alone, aunt?"

Not "sweetheart" as his usual. Just "aunt". The lack of the typical nickname and the unexpected use of the kinship title added to Jacaerys' dry tone caught you and Baela off guard. The severe expression on his face while he closed the doors to his betrothed's chambers and waited for you to leave...

Why the hell was he—

"Darling, you should better leave."

"What?" you asked at Baela's suggestion, although it was much softer than the passive-aggressive order Jacaerys had uttered a few seconds ago.

As if the situation was not awkward and uncomfortable enough, it all seemed to get worse when the exchange of glances and the silent communication between them turned obvious to anyone who witnessed it.

You tried hard not to feel paranoid about that whole thing, which was impossible.

"Aunt, I need you to leave so I can—"

"No."

Jacaerys' eyes widened at your refusal to the firm order. He knew you were stubborn and insistent, traits that were common in his personality and in Baela's too.

That was one of the reasons the three of you loved each other. And it was also one of the reasons that led the prince to frustration.

He had never been someone who got really angry so easily until then. The previous conversation with Rhaenyra still burned in his veins. "No?" with a frown, he repeated what he had heard. "I am being serious. I need you to get out of here."

Baela got up from the bed to start putting her clothes back on. She watched the tension between her betrothal and her other cousin growing with each passing second. Something that had never happened before.

Jacaerys never fought with you and she never fought with you either.

Either way, she had chosen to stay out of the way for a while. She knew what was probably going on in Jacaerys' mind: it was clear on his false mad face that the confrontation with Rhaenyra had not gone well.

"Get dressed and leave," Jacaerys did not welcome your next refusal. You did not move an inch to pick up your clothes from the floor. You would not give in easily, you would not let yourself be thrown out of there without further ado. As if you were a mere dog causing trouble.

"I am not leaving this damn chamber until someone tells me what is going wrong here!"

Now completely dressed, Baela came closer to you with quick steps, a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort and calm your spirits, which did not work. You stepped away, turning to face the girl behind you with wide eyes, noticing how she was trying to soften the pre-argument atmosphere.

Or mayhaps it was already a sharp argument.

Well, it was definitely an argument already, judging by the way Jacaerys picked up your clothes and forced you to hold them, drawing your attention back to him. “Get dressed right now. Your cunny is pathetically dripping onto the floor.”

The flush spread across your face, reluctantly picking up those clothes and starting to put them on. The idea of one day feeling humiliated by being naked in front of Jacaerys had never crossed your mind before — of course you had felt shy the first time you had slept with him and Baela, since you never experienced sexual relations with anyone in that time. In any case, feeling shy and feeling humiliated were two very different things.

With his jaw less clenched now, Jacaerys watched your nakedness begin to fade. He was not proud of himself about being too rough with you, much less of using those horrible degrading words about your previous arousal. He had hoped to go into that chamber and talk to Baela alone about his mother’s refusal to let him marry the two women he loved. Instead, he found the two of you in bed, and what was supposed to be an arousing sight ended up increasing the sadness in his heart.

How could he deprive himself of all of that someday? What would it be like to not have you around soon; when Alicent would turn your betrothal official with Daeron or with any lord who proposed a prosperous alliance?

Jacaerys thought he might feel less desperate about the whole thing if he kicked you out of there, if he acted like he needed some time alone with his own betrothal... Although deep down he knew you would not believe his pathetic attempt to push you away with pointless jealousy.

You were smart enough not to believe that fake nonsense.

"We just need to talk alone, darling," Baela whispered, touching your shoulder and dividing her attention between staring at you and then at Jacaerys.

"She is right. I need some time with my real future-wife."

Baela rolled her eyes at Jacaerys's attitude that was making everything worse. "Stop this shit, Jace!"

"Well, I am just—"

Jacaerys did not have time to finish his defense, the palm crashed against the boy's face so suddenly that neither he nor Baela could predict what would happen, much less prepare themselves for how to react after that.

You did not let him say anything, staring with fire in eyes, the skin on your hand burned from the impact, and Jacaerys' cheek did not feel much different. The stubborn tears came once again that day and his lower lip trembled without him being able to control it.

"Do you really think I am such an idiot?" the yelling was too loud, the veins of your neck standing out as you slapped his shoulder right away, ignoring Baela's soft — yet desperate — touch pulling you back. "Did you think I would believe that nonsense? Did you think I would not realize that you tried to make me jealous to push me away for some reason?"

"Hey, hey, now... We can explain what's going on and—"

You pulled away from Baela too, disappointment growing because of the realization that she had not told you what was going on there either. The realization that she also thought she could protect you from whatever important matter happening between them. "I know you both love me, and I know these feelings will not go away anytime soon. And I also know you would not treat me like I was just someone to be used and then discarded."

Jacaerys almost felt relieved to know that their feelings for you did not need to be challenged, that you knew both of them loved you the same way you loved them: equally, without preferences, without jealousy.

He almost felt relieved. Almost.

He knew he had hurt you anyway.

"And yet... You thought pushing me away was the best choice. You thought keeping me in the dark and hurting me could have been better than keeping me informed of everything that goes on between us."

Tears streamed down Jacaerys’ face and Baela’s heart raced as you began walking towards the doors.

“Please wait!”

“Sweetheart, we can explain what all this was about, we—"

“Do not 'sweetheart' me now. I do not want to know anymore.” you cut them off, looking at them one last time, gripping the doorknob tightly to open it. “It’s alright, nephew. I will give you all the time you need.”

[ducksido]

Hello Hello

Good to see you again. If requests are open, can we get the overblot boys with a reader who's secretly a vita carnis mimic/elder mimic. Maybe the overblot forces them to reveal their true form as a meat man lol. But then they transform back. Or they're starving without human meat and transform back. Idk. Just think the idea is neat

-🐁 anon

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle had always admired Yuu’s strict memory, their perfect behavior. Too perfect, even for Heartslabyul.

So when they tried to calm him mid-Overblot and were flung into a rosebush with a sharp crack, he expected them to be injured.

But instead of blood, something wet and fibrous squelched under the thorns. Red tendrils slipped through torn skin, coiling like nerves — no, not nerves — meat.

His world turned black and white, thorns crashing around him as the mimic emerged, towering and shrieking with too many mouths. “RIDDLE.”

It didn’t hurt him. It just stood there, trembling.

When he woke, Yuu was back. Bloody, yes. Quiet, ashamed.

Riddle said nothing for a long moment. Then:

“…You broke the Queen’s Law.” “...I’m not human.” “I noticed.”

He didn’t report it.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s nose twitched.

He’d always said Yuu “smelled weird” — too clean, too neutral. Not human. Not anything. But that stench, after his Overblot, was feral.

They’d tried to stop him and got caught in the sandstorm. He thought they'd been pulverized. Instead, from the dust rose something massive, fleshy, writhing — hands split into teeth, a skull blooming out of a chest cavity.

Yuu cradled him inside that body.

He woke up in the sandpit, head in their lap. Human again.

“...You ate someone?” he asked lazily, not looking at them.

“No. I wanted to. I didn’t.”

He stared at them, unmoving. Then chuckled.

“Then I guess I owe you my life, Meat Man.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was the first to suspect.

There was no paper trail for Yuu. No records. No past. No family. No meal preferences. And they always looked just a bit off in mirrors, like the reflection had too many joints.

He’d been planning to dig deeper. Maybe blackmail them. But when he Overblotted, he nearly drowned them.

Nearly.

Until the whirlpool changed. A mass formed in the water — something wrong. It hissed and squealed, limbs forming into jagged paddles as it clawed through the ink to him.

He panicked. The mimic wrapped around him and sang.

He awoke in a cold sweat.

Yuu was silent beside him, soaked in seawater and slick with crimson.

Azul never asked. He simply offered them a room in Octavinelle — no questions. Just gratitude, and quiet fear.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had always been unnerved by how much control Yuu had over themselves. Even Kalim, for all his sunshine, could get under their skin.

But when he Overblotted and ordered Yuu to kneel, they didn’t.

They convulsed.

Their body writhed and peeled, skin splitting at the seams, a trembling meat beast forming from the shell of who they were. Eyes grown on tongues, teeth on hands.

“No.” it whispered. “I kneel to no one.”

When Jamil awoke, he remembered two things: the way it loomed over him like a god, and how gently it carried him back.

He confronted Yuu later, furious and shaken.

“What the hell are you?”

Yuu answered honestly: “I don’t know anymore.”

He didn’t turn them in.

He just nodded. “Then let’s keep each other’s secrets.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil's eyes were trained to spot fakes — wigs, fillers, filters. He never could quite tell what Yuu was made of.

When he Overblotted, he unleashed poison on everything in range — even them. He watched them cough, stumble, writhe — not in pain, but hunger.

Their voice changed first. Something deep, wrong, from beneath the skin. “Stop.”

And they split.

A spiraling tower of meat, muscle writhing like silk. They threw themselves over Vil, shielding him from the final blast.

When he awoke, his hands were slick with gore. Yuu was collapsed beside him — small again. Breathing.

“You’ll ruin the carpets,” he murmured hoarsely.

They laughed.

He never looked at them the same again — not with disgust, but with caution. Respect. And fascination.

Idia Shroud

Idia loved monsters.

Creepy creatures. Uncanny Valley horror. Meat horror. Bone horror. It was all in his wheelhouse.

But nothing prepared him for Yuu.

When he Overblotted, the flames licked at them first. He expected them to burn, to scream.

Instead they snapped.

A full metamorphosis — flesh and fat expanding, eyes blinking over muscle. The mimic screeched, bursting with heat and hate, charging into the flames and devouring the ghostly entities attacking them both.

Yuu didn’t consume Idia.

They protected him.

When he woke, he was cradled in soft, pulsating flesh. He cried a little.

“…Dude. That was so sick. Can you do it again? Please?”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had felt it.

A wrongness beneath Yuu’s skin. An old power. Ancient, and hungry.

When he Overblotted and declared the end of the world, Yuu answered in kind.

They didn’t just shift. They grew. A cathedral of sinew, flesh unfolding like a divine punishment. Their voice echoed in layers — meat and sorrow.

“Let me bear this burden, Malleus. You are not alone.”

They matched his storm. Not with magic — with hunger. Not with malice — with mourning.

He stared into the face of a god made of man and beast, and for the first time, wept.

When he woke, the castle was in ruins. Yuu, human again, sat beside him — skin cracked, teeth bloodied.

He reached for their hand.

“You are no monster.”

[branchclangen]

BRANCHCLAN WRITINGS #4- PEARFUR

TW: Stillbirth/Miscarriage/Pregnancy Loss, Heavily Implied Sexual Assault, Infant Burial, Victim Guilt

This may not be for the faint of heart. Please, read at your own discretion, and heed the warnings above.

Pearfur was digging a hole.

The moon was high. BranchClan was sleeping.

Pearfur was not sleeping.

She knew it hadn’t been just a stomachache. She knew very well what the feeling was, and it sickened her. 

She told herself she wasn’t going to let that happen to her again.

At least the first time gave her three gorgeous kits that she didn’t know if she could live without.

This time, Pearfur was left with nothing but two tiny things, wrapped up the best she could wrap them in moss and large leaves. They were too small, too early. They didn’t stand a chance.

She ignored them, ignored the fact that they were left sitting still by her side, and continued to dig. Looking at them made her sick, a fact alone that filled her with overwhelming guilt. 

She couldn’t bury them at BranchClan’s gravesite. No, a patrol or the medicine cats would notice the fresh dirt pile and smell the fear scent that Pearfur was sure melted off of her in waves at this point. Then there would be questions. 

She buried them next to the meadow that bordered the edge of BranchClan’s territory, where the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. She could see the flowers in the dark, their colors dulled by the night shadows. Were the flowers watching her? Judging her?

Pearfur pinned her ears flat against her head and kept digging. The dirt below her felt cool on her paws, but seemed to grow heavier and heavier the deeper she got.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Someone was going to catch her if she wasn’t fast, but if she was too fast it almost seemed like she was uncaring.

Was she uncaring?

Maybe she was.

Pearfur was too worried about this stupid hole to care.

She wanted to go to bed. She wanted to be anywhere but here.

Anywhere.

Finally it was deep enough. Pearfur stared into the empty dirt for a long stretch of time, her tail swishing. Finally, she turned and acknowledged the bundles sitting beside her.

She picked one up, ignoring the bitter taste that filled her mouth, and dropped it in unceremoniously.

Thump.

Then the next.

Thump.

She stared into the hole again.

Why didn’t she feel anything but relief?

Was she a bad mother?

Why didn’t she care?

Why was she okay with this?

Why was she filled with so much rage and disgust, both at Frozenbeam and at herself for letting this happen to her?

Why was she the one who had to suffer while he walked free?

Grimacing, Pearfur filled the hole. It was easier than digging it.

It was over.

Now there was nothing but a lump in the ground, silhouetted by the darkness.

Pearfur turned away. She felt numb. She thought of nothing as she wandered to the stream, and dipped her paws in. She didn’t flinch at the freezing water, or the way the dirt coming from her paws and flowing down the river almost looked like streaks of blood. She ignored all of it.

When she went back to camp, Honeybird and Heathersplash sat quietly at the entrance. The sight of Honeybird made Pearfur bristle. 

She had his eyes.

She had his fucking eyes.

A voice, a soft and slightly raspy one that only matched Honeybird, snapped her out of her thoughts. “Is everything alright?”

Pearfur looked up. She hadn’t even noticed that at some point she had unsheathed her claws. 

Heathersplash and Honeybird were regarding her with a quizzical look. 

“You look upset…Where did you go this late at night?” Honeybird questioned.

Pearfur blinked. How could she answer this? The next words flowed out of her mouth smoothly. Maybe a little too smooth.

“I had to throw something away.”

Honeybird and Heathersplash glanced at each other, then nodded.

“Very well,” Heathersplash mewed. “Get some sleep, okay?”

Pearfur walked past them, into camp.

She looked over at the nursery. A pair of eyes were staring back at her. 

“Scrub…” Pearfur whispered.

The queen padded out of the nursery, a look in her eyes. A knowing look.

A look that told Pearfur she was understood.

“Hey…” Scrub meowed, not even flinching as Pearfur basically tumbled into her, pressing her face into her fur and letting out soft sobs. “I know, I know…I’m sorry.”

Pearfur looked up at Scrub, shaking. The numbness had worn off, replaced by a deep, aching pain and something that almost felt like grief. 

“I don’t want to sleep in the warrior’s den…” She managed to say. “He’s in there. He’ll find out. He’ll hurt me, I can’t-”

“Shh,” Scrub shushed her gently, giving Pearfur’s forehead a few comforting licks. “You don’t have to sleep in there, okay? Here, sleep with me, in the nursery…Unless it’s too much.”

Pearfur shook her head. “Anywhere is better than near him.”

“Then come on. You could use the rest.” Scrub turned, gesturing with her tail for Violetsong to follow.

The nursery was comfortable, the scent of milk and the faint smell of herbs filling Pearfur’s nose as she crept inside. She noticed Atticus’ kits, all curled up together in a large nest of moss. Atticus slept in a separate nest, curled into a tight ball. Nearby, Owlshade was curled up around Littlekit, letting out soft, rumbling purrs in his sleep. 

And a few tail-lengths away, Boragekit and Burdockkit slept together. Pearfur noticed that Flamekit had snuck away from his littermates at one point, and was pressed against Burdockkit’s white fur. It was a sweet sight, truly, and if Pearfur wasn’t so upset, her heart would flutter with warmth.

Scrub settled into her own nest, waiting for Pearfur to join her before draping her tail around the other she-cat. 

“Try to sleep…” Scrub whispered. “I’ll be here. I won’t let anyone bother you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Pearfur whispered, lowering her head. She peeked out of the nursery entrance, and in the brief sliver of the sky she was able to see, two stars were shining bright.

She ignored them, burying her face into her paws and closing her eyes. They weren’t a part of her that she wanted. 

Sleep finally came to her, and for the first time in a while, Pearfur was able to rest.

[maknaasfalti]

Nhaz this response was objectively juvenile even by shitlibs standards.

It didn't express any interesting or specifically informative or revealing.

It answered to an astute observation that problems caused by class disparities need solutions, which only communists advocate for, with an uninspired allusion to the general vibes of unspecified "you're genocides in literally 1984," and completely dismissed the follow-up question on why, then, should the capitalist system be perpetuated despite its many tragedies that you would find irreversibly damning in a nominally socialist regime. A reminder that this is these tragedies which the author of the original post aims to solve, before it got derailed with a completely unprompted accusation.

Even as a liberal you must understand that this particular retort doesn't deserve to be dignified with a "yass queen periodt go tell emm!!!" Reaction, because it's just not that good.

[bibibbon]

The hero agencies

⚠️spoilers for episode 14⚠️

It seems to be clear that all the hero agencies have a rivalry or a quiet conflict between one another.

Lucky Cyan's arc introduces us to the quiet conflict between treeman and DOS surrounding fear and how they were both heavily researching it during year 36.

FOMO and MG leaders used to work together until rock decided to leave, and while the leader of FOMO claims that he has no issues or disagreements with Rock, I would argue otherwise.

In episode 11, when he is asked if the reason rock left was due to him reaching a major disagreement he doesn't particularly answer the question instead he deflects it saying that he hopes that rock reaches his goals. Moreover, when they meet again in episode 14, they seem to be somewhat hostile towards one another. While I will admit this is our first episode, becoming fully acquainted with the FOMO leader meaning that we don't know if he normally acts that way, we can still tell that he seems to treat rock differently from the others in the commission and that they both seem to outright disagree with one another's management styles.

Subsequently, after the moon's death, I do believe that MG and Treeman will most likely become enemies not only due to E-soul killing moon for reasons that many including me have theorised to be related to the Hero agencies but also due to the history that MG and Treeman share with Mr shang being a former employee before starting his own agency. Furthermore, many have speculated that from Treeman's profile translation that Rock and Mr. shang may possibly be related to one another.

Queen's arc also stated that their had been a previous rivalry between DOS and MG concerning their top 10 heroes and I do believe that this might be an ongoing rivaraly even if the show claims it has ended due to DOS investing into female heroes such as lucky cyan and Queen. Both of these hero agencies have 3 heroes in the top 10 for MG. These three are ghostblade 4th in the rankings, dragon boy 3rd in the rankings, and E-soul who is 9th in the rankings while DOS has Queen 2nd in the rankings, lucky cyan 7th in the rankings and the johnnies who are 5th in the rankings. They most likely will still have their conflict with MG concerning the hero rankings and how many of their heroes can they manage to land in the top 10.

TLDR the hero agencies in conflict/disagreement with one another are:

FOMO and MG

Treeman and DOS

DOS and MG

MG and Treeman

MG has beef with everyone💀

Also, even X doesn't like MG and Rock

[astrae4]

MOM, HOOK ME UP WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND’S SON! | Lee Sanghyeok

pairings — Boynextdoor’s Riwoo x reader (non-idol au)

genre — romance, slice of life, comedy

warnings — (wc. 2k) there’s a dirty joke in here, mild swearing

note — this honestly took me a while (it was supposed to be done end of June..) because i had to google jokes… um. i’m not proud of it but i’m lowkey not funny… so anyways!!! i hope you enjoy a bold reader because i love the reader in this fic!

more works: navigation | bnd!masterlist

THE WEEKEND HAD started with you lazily scrolling your phone on the couch.

Your A/C blasts loudly like a buzzing bee, and despite the wonderful sun outside you’re spending the summer lounging on your sofa with the same tanktop and short you’ve had on since yesterday.

Your mom’s cooking lunch in the kitchen, having just got back from her morning run with her friends. She’s complained about your inactivity since a week ago, but you’re determined to get your sleep’s worth this summer.

She’s recounting her story of what happened this morning while you listen half heartedly, multitasking chats with your friends and listening to her.

Bored out of your mind, you decide to open facebook for once.

( Yes, I know. But by this point you’ve already opened every other app. )

You follow four accounts. Your mom, your grandparents, and some coffee shop account that you forgot to unfollow after you did so to get their discount.

Out of the four, only the coffee shop and your mom posted in their story. Classic.

You open your mom’s post as she drones about how you should join her next time to get some exercise in and—

Holy shit.

A boy stands beside your mom and her best friend, posing awkwardly with a thumbs up like every child does. His hair was messy and choppy, cut short and dyed silver. He wore black glasses that suited him so well, and his fit was sleeveless, showing his toned biceps well.

Oh—and one more thing you forgot to add:

He’s totally your type.

“[reader], are you listening to me?” Your mom asks from the open kitchen, tone slightly annoyed.

You don’t answer that question.

“Mom, who’s this?” You asked, popping your head up from the sofa and showing her the photo in your phone screen.

She leans over to look, casually wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Oh! That’s Hyejin’s son. Remember her? My college bestie? They just got back in town.”

You zoom in the screen dramatically. “This guy? This is Riwoo?!”

“Mhm,” she hums, already turning back to stir something in the pan. “Why?”

You blink. Pause. And then blurt out:

“You should hook me up with him.”

Sizzle. That might’ve been the pan. Might’ve also been—you know, your mother’s neurons short-circuiting.?

She turns slowly, eyebrows raised, eyes narrowing like she’s not sure if she should laugh or call a therapist. “I’m sorry—what?”

“I’m serious!” you say, phone still in hand, voice picking up steam. “You always say you want me to meet someone nice. He’s your best friend’s son. This is perfect. We’re basically already destined.”

“Destined?” she repeats, half-laughing.

“Don’t act like this isn’t literally the dream,” you insist, leaping to your feet now, as if ready to go on a one-person campaign. “He’s cute. I’m cute. This is what happens in tv dramas, Mom. This is fate. Just put us in the same room and let God do the rest.”

“Oh, dear,” she mutters, rubbing her temples. “You really haven’t been outside in days.”

“That’s irrelevant,” you say seriously. “Hook. Me. Up.”

She gives you a long look. Then shrugs.

“Alright. I’ll invite Hyejin and Riwoo over for lunch tomorrow.”

You blink. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Why not? You’re the one asking.” She smirks. “Just don’t wear that pitiful tank top again. And maybe brush your hair this time.”

You clutch your chest dramatically. “Wow. Attacked and saved in the same breath.”

She snorts. “Good luck, drama queen.”

You look back at the photo on your phone. Riwoo, messy-haired and awkwardly smiling with a thumbs-up, suddenly feels like tomorrow’s entire main character.

Oh, you were so gonna bag this introvert.

The doorbell rings exactly at noon.

You’re already at the front door before your mom can even yell for you to get it. You smooth down your outfit one last time—cute but casual, like oh—this old thing? I didn’t spend forty minutes picking it out just to look—you know, effortless.

You open the door, and there he is.

Riwoo stands beside his mom, hands in his pockets, silver-dyed hair messily flopping over his forehead. He’s wearing a black shirt tucked into cargo pants, and glasses that sit slightly crooked on his nose. His smile is small and polite—almost shy. But he looks up, meets your eyes, and the smile turns real. Wide, a little awkward.

Oh, you are so done for.

“Hi,” he says, and then immediately adds, “Wow, um. Your house has…walls.”

You blink. “Huh?”

His mom elbows him.

He clears his throat. “Sorry. That was supposed to be a joke. It sounded better in my head.”

You laugh. Loudly. “No, it was hilarious. I love walls.”

He stares at you like he can’t tell if you’re serious or making fun of him. You grin wider. He flushes.

Behind you, your mom pokes her head out. “You two gonna stand there flirting on the porch, or should I let them in?”

“Mom!” you hiss.

“I’m just saying,” she sings as she turns back into the kitchen.

You step aside and wave Riwoo and his mom in. Your mom and Auntie Hyejin are already deep in conversation before they even make it to the living room.

Riwoo sits carefully on the couch, hands folded like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. You flop down next to him with all the confidence of someone who’s decided to flirt aggressively until something sticks.

“So,” you start, turning toward him. “How’s life with walls?”

He looks at you, then bites back a laugh. “It’s going great. I’m hoping for a roof next.”

“Oh wow,” you say. “Really moving up in the world.”

He nods, deadpan. “I know. One day I might even get doors.”

You’re both laughing now—his quiet and snorty, yours loud and full. He’s definitely shy, but he’s also surprisingly quick. Dry humor. Dad joke energy.

You already want to know what he’d be like if you got him to relax.

“Anyway,” you say, leaning closer like it’s nothing. “Just so you know, I asked my mom to hook me up with you.”

He goes still. “Wait—what?”

“I saw your Facebook photo,” you confess, totally unbothered. “And I was like, yup. That’s my type. So here we are.”

His ears turn bright red. He stares at you, blinking fast, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or hide behind a pillow.

“Wow,” he says. “I think you might be the scariest person I’ve ever met.”

You smirk. “You’re welcome.”

Lunch smells like heaven—your mom’s cooking always slaps—but today you barely taste the food. You’re too busy watching Riwoo across the table: how he chews a little too carefully, how he nods politely every time the moms ask him a question, how he nearly chokes on a piece of tofu when your foot accidentally bumps his under the table.

( You pretend it’s accidental. It’s not. )

The meal is mostly filled with chatter—mostly from your mom and Auntie Hyejin, who are seated across from you, gabbing away like they’re still twenty. Meanwhile, Riwoo’s doing his best to quietly chew through a piece of radish without choking, clearly out of his element.

You, on the other hand, are thriving.

“You want more rice?” you ask Riwoo sweetly, holding out the rice scoop.

“I’m okay,” he says quickly, shaking his head.

You scoop some into his bowl anyway. “Eat more. You’ll need strength to survive me later.”

He blinks. “W-what?”

“In Mario Kart,” you clarify with a wink. “What did you think I meant?”

He nearly drops his chopsticks.

Auntie Hyejin turns briefly. “Isn’t it cute? You two used to take baths together when you were toddlers!”

“Mom,” Riwoo groans instantly, face already pink.

You lean your chin into your palm, beaming at him. “Wow. So I’ve already seen you naked and still like you? That’s rare.”

The chopsticks hit his tray this time.

Your mom chokes on her soup and breaks into a fit of laughter, waving her hand in front of her face. “I raised a menace,” she wheezes.

You grin, shameless. Riwoo is beet red and clutching his water like it’s a lifeline.

By the time the moms finally excuse themselves to gossip in the kitchen and leave you two alone in the dining room, Riwoo exhales like he’s just finished a boss battle.

“You really don’t hold back, huh?” he mutters, fiddling with his napkin.

“Why would I?” you say, stretching your arms with a yawn that you may have exaggerated to show off your cute tee. “I’m just giving you the authentic experience. No filters.”

He huffs out a small laugh. “I noticed.”

Ten minutes later, you’re both in your room.

He sits cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide at your game setup. “This is legit.”

“Of course,” you say, tossing him a controller. “If you beat me, I might let you pick the next game. Might.”

“Is there a reward if I win?” he asks, voice teasing but cautious.

You lean closer. “What do you want it to be?”

He chokes again. You love this game.

Character select. You pick your main—unbothered, cocky, grinning. Riwoo’s brow furrows in focus, but he still glances sideways at you every few seconds like you’re more dangerous than the match.

And maybe you are.

“Ready?” you ask.

“No, but let’s do it anyway.”

You dominate the first round, cackling when he accidentally jumps off the stage and screams.

“Wow,” you laugh. “Is this your strategy? Let me win to gain my trust and crush me emotionally later?”

He smiles shyly. “No, this is just me being terrible.”

“Shame. I was into it.”

“Into what? Me losing?!”

“Into you being evil. It’s hot.”

He fumbles the next round so hard he drops the controller off his lap and has to scramble to pick it up.

You fake concern. “Aw, Riwoo. Do I make you nervous?”

He side-eyes you, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s this close to saying something back. But he doesn’t. Not yet.

So you keep going. “It’s okay. You can admit it. You think I’m hot and terrifying.”

He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “…not wrong.”

You pretend not to hear it—just to let him sweat.

Another round begins. You nudge him gently with your foot. “Don’t hold back on me just ‘cause you like me.”

He finally turns to look at you, really look at you—eyes wide, mouth parted slightly. Then his gaze flicks down to your lips for just a second.

Just a second.

And that’s when he strikes back.

“But if I beat you,” he says suddenly, voice much quieter, “can I ask you for something?”

You pause. “Like what?”

He shrugs, eyes back on the screen. “I don’t know. A second date?”

Your heart jumps clean out of your chest.

He glances over with the tiniest smirk, completely smug at your response.

You gape at him. “Wait—was that flirting? Did you just flirt with me?”

He blinks innocently. “You said I should fight back.”

He laughs. Then adds, voice lower, like he’s not sure he should be saying it but does anyway:

“But it’s also because you’re cute. The way you flirt as well. It’s… cute.”

And that is when your brain stops functioning.

You gape at him. “What?”

He tilts his head. “What?”

“You just—you just called me cute?”

“I mean… yeah?”

You stare. Speechless. Beet red. Like you hadn’t just spent all morning shamelessly hitting on him. Like you weren’t the one who asked your mom to hook you up. Like your entire goal today hadn’t been this exact moment.

He grins, watching your silence. “You okay?”

You clear your throat. “I’m fine. Totally fine. So fine. Shut up.”

He leans back with that same quiet laugh, triumphant.

Suddenly, he’s the flirty one. And you? You’re so flustered, you lose the next round in under forty seconds.

TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @teddywonss @taerae-verse @bbangbies @uncasings

NETWORKS: @k-films @k-labels @onedoornet

© astrae4 2025 — please don't copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[vsa-pieldepapel]

Do you think there is any merit in the aggressive route? (I don't think it has a common consensus name, but I like to call it "Lost Route", in reference to enemies getting LOST)

The consequences seem to be inconsistent, with Berdly's arm's fate hinging on whether you fought his and Queen's boss fights with damage or not, and Tenna's fate hinging on two necessary recruits and ignoring wheter you beat him with violence, and Jackenstein's on having no lost enemies I think?

The [FIGHT] option seems to be neglected in being telegraphed to the player, essentially discouraged, until the Aurafarmer suddenly jumps in and makes it required.

Regardless of whether it's... questionably designed, I wanted to ask whether you think there is any point to tell, like there would be in the Undertale's Neutral routes. Like "the bonds you break make you stronger" and if there's anything beyond it.

Oh, this is interesting. I can't give too thorough an answer because I honestly hadn't sat with it too much until i got this ask. I've actually never tried this route, so I'd have to find footage and break it down. It's interesting in that it's not Snowgrave- in UT you just had to be violent, but in DR there is a very specific type of violence that leads to the "bad ending"

I do think gameplay wise it's going to be the closest equal to UT's neutral routes. Due to the nature of each game, DR's balance of violence and pacifism is more nuanced than UT, which I appreciate for being its own thing. Obviously the meta reason is that sometimes there will be players who will want stat increases for strategic reasons, but because UT was meant to make you feel like your actions have the same weight as they would if the pixels were real people, every murder in UT feels insane, where DR is touching more on the themes of unreality, escapism, and parallel dimensions. The division between both worlds is thematically relevant, so the nuance is needed.

I find it interesting despite Ralsei's utilitarian views of himself and fellow darkners, and his obedience even if you instruct him to be violent, that he still insists that you be kind to the darkners. This makes me believe his approach is a sort of cope to deal with whatever big suffering or sacrifice is implied in the Last Prophecy, and in truth he values his life and others'.

The thing you say about the telegraphing is real, at the same time, we know that toby deliberately put ACT as the second command because, iirc, he wants you to consciously ACT, and attacking would be your baseline, automatic, unga bunga response. That makes the dissonance between FIGHT being narratively discouraged but mechanically encouraged fascinating.

It does lead to unexpected/Funny results though. My first ever you became stronger outside of the one purposeful snowgrave run was this and it was half-unintentional.

I forgot that you could purify the fetuses, I saw the X over the mercy bar and, having fought the knight, I was like, well, i guess there's one thing to do... And I did get stronger. There was a stat increase for all party members. But most interestingly, the game tracks specifically how you react to the fetuses. In the file where I purified them it says just that, and in the abortion file it says "Slain". I wonder if killing the weird titan fetus creatures will have ramifications and if so, why specifically the spawn. I don't think there's enough information for anything conclusive yet though.

Toby has repeatedly emphasised there is one ending, and my belief is that the prophecy is meant to be a misdirect; that there is one ending but that ending happens because Susie chooses to go against the prophecy. The one ending is her ending and everything else is variations depending on what you do through Kris.

Perhaps in Deltarune, where "your choices don't matter", it's meant to emphasize the weird pointlessness of being violent when the result wouldn't change. Maybe you can't change the ending, but being kind results in a bustling Castle Town where darkners live happily, and that matters too. Given the end result won't change, can you still be made to care about the minute details along the way?

Apologies if this answer isn't super complete. This was very interesting, thank you!

[unsoundedcomic]

the narrative itself probably wont extend this far, but how politically independent do you see this two toe state being in the future? full nation? independent city state? (eventually) a integrated crescian territory with voting power? two toe representatives on the queens council? its interesting it's going to border ulestery so closely...i keep wondering if the two toes would be interested in rebuilding the crossing.

I really hate to give canon endings to questions like this, because it leaves you nothing to imagine or speculate on :)

I will say that Queen Sonorie hopes for eventual inak citizenship - she said so earlier in the comic - and plans to establish and maintain communication with the inak who choose to settle Ethelmik. That's why she has the inak survivors here with her. She's been getting to know them and feel out how receptive they are to her ideas. She'd like Ethelmik to have its independence as a city-state, and then see where it goes from there. Will it be a special inak carve-out that's exempt from Cresce's command economy? Will they instead be able to function as a border post and military garrison? How will Ulestry react? Will the inak be content to remain within the space they've been allowed? Will the inak themselves fracture within? Will there be in-fighting?

She doesn't know any of these answers. She's taking a first step and the future will do as it does.

The ongoing political situation of the southern inak will get some mention next book - and there are a few inak characters - but we're indeed moving away from this. Let us wish them well :)

[linkons-most-wanted]

If you think that Sylus doesn't think that mc has to remember her past, than why are you saying that he wants to show her her true nature? 🤔 I don't really think that sorceress mc is the only true mc in the story, they are different people for me actually. Our main mc isn't "false" mc, she's the way she is. Maybe I couldn't understand something, will be grateful if you share your thoughts!

Sorry it took me so long to answer this one, I swear it just showed up in my UI today! So weird.

Anyway, this is one of my favorite things to yap about! Hopefully this will add some clarity and not just be me rambling 😅

I personally interpret all the MCs as being the same soul, with different parts that come out more or less depending on which LI she's with and what's happened in her current life. (I would talk more about IFS and where this "parts" language comes from but that is an essay for another day.)

Of course, that's not a real thing (you can't take the same soul and put them into different circumstances to see what happens) so I think it's just as valid to see them as totally separate people!

And to that point, I definitely see some intentional personality differences for MC across LI's--especially in the memory writing, each LI's team gets to pull out the traits that match that LI best.

But at least within each LI's set of content, I prefer to see the various reincarnations of MC as different lives for the same soul--different parts of the same whole, if you will.

To me, this means that everything that makes Sorceress MC herself also exists within main timeline MC. It's not something Sylus has to create or specifically encourage, so much as it's there and waiting and ready to come out. And we see the writers leaning into that--Sylus's MC has the most gumption by far in how she's written. Using his helmet as a mirror to put on her lipstick? Absolute queen behavior 💯

So, the "true nature" I'm talking about is her inner strength. Her confidence and assertiveness. Her conviction that self-honesty is more important than following rules created by other people.

What I mean is that Sylus is realizing that she doesn't have to remember their life together in Beyond Cloudfall in order to be more honest about her desires. She doesn't have to remember that he's specifically a fiend to know that she's courting something others deem "evil" when she spends time with him, and for her to choose him anyway. She can become stronger and get competitive and boss him around without specifically remembering the game they started in Abyssal Mark.

And think about main timeline MC's life, and all the reasons she'd have to repress these natural traits--she needs to be good to not cause trouble for Josephine. The Hunters Association is a benevolent force, doing true good, so she's had less of a reason to question authority. (Ever is quickly giving her reasons to, though.) In Beyond Cloudfall, she was disillusioned quickly and before she met Sylus. In the main timeline, many of those illusions are still intact. (And I do consider them illusions, more on that in a sec.)

I think there are two main reasons I feel so strongly that Sylus's MC in the main timeline already has all these traits, they're just repressed:

One: I think the social critique applied to the Sanctuary in Beyond Cloudfall also applies to Linkon's government in general. Ever is beloved by the general populace (you have to remember this, other ppl don't know what MC knows) and yet deeply corrupt and evil. The Tommorow's Catch 22 universe shows that the writers also aren't afraid to confront police corruption and ineptitude. So far, MC has trusted the Hunters Association as benevolent--but now we know there's a high-ranking mole, so this organization has failed her too. Imo, it's only a matter of time before she learns the same lesson Sorceress MC learned (or, said another way, the same lesson she learned in a past life)--these seemingly pure, benevolent organizations can't be trusted.

Two: I've experienced repression in this way. I think if you haven't, maybe it seems strange to look at someone who seems meek and shy and watch someone want them to become fierce and assertive. And in some cases, where that shyness is genuine, pressuring that person to be more assertive would be very inappropriate!

But I have lived this character arc, and it 100% feels like becoming myself. Sorceress MC talks about being bound why white threads--the expectations others had of her that required her to be small and want nothing. I see parallels to that in main timeline MC's life, and I strongly suspect we'll see parallels in other MCs written for Sylus, because that writing team is tight with their themes.

When you are strong and assertive and fierce in a way the world does not accept, sometimes you become particularly meek and accommodating as a way to "compensate" for it. So, being shown that it's okay to be strong, it's okay to be assertive, it's okay to be fierce really is being shown your true nature.

There's a distinct difference between a person who's naturally shy, and a person who's naturally assertive but has crammed themselves into a tiny box and become a people pleaser in order to survive. Imo, the writing team is writing Sylus's MC as the latter, not the former, which is why I don't see any conflict in Sylus encouraging her more assertive traits.

It's one of the reasons these characters are so near and dear to my heart 💕

[somanyfandomsorkinafs]

(I am ~buzzing~ with ideas…. Allow me to release some)

Once Danny was an adult, he decided to join Ellie in her ‘permanent world tour’. It’s better than staying in Amity where the opinion of Phantom hasn’t gotten much better. Besides, the portal caused the veil to get weaker, allow ghost to wreak havoc where ever they want.

He’s met a lot new ghost cause of this too. Old as Mycenaean Greece to non humans who came to Earth and died there. Danny’s learnt so much from them that he’s basically a walking in Encyclopaedia.

So, Danny’s decided “fuck it.” and has it became a part-time history teacher. It’s fun! He knows the details by heart and is able to make it more fun than just droning on about the same old wars and whatever. He enjoys it, the kids enjoy it and the ghosts having their stories told!

Of course, this does cause some problems when people try to correct him. Danny’s argument? “I got them correct sources.”

And when anyone asks him how knows his sources are correct? “My source was there when it happened.”

Cue the dc world thinking that Danny’s just some immortal guy whose decided to use his immortality for good(TM)

[cappycodeart]

"The dead one! Yeah I haven't thought about her in a long time!"

A little theory I've had about Winter King's original motives based on his heartless comment about Betty and Ice King's original motives for kidnapping princesses in the first place...... clearly she gave off Bad Ex Vibes…