#so no matter what trope youre thinking of the answer is probably yes

[dilf-docs]

High Heels, Hushed Whispers

harry castillo x younger fem!reader

summary: a black dress, high heels and a fancy dinner. that's all it takes for you to fall into harry's scheme. or, better said, trap.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, (eventual) smut, foes to hoes, (one sided) enemies to lovers, angst, rich ppl (yes that's a warning), slowburn, reader may be a bit of a cunt (sorry if this x reader fic is mischaracterizing u), ft. dbf!harry (love this trope so much and had to squeeze it in, my bad)

word count: 3,560 words

side note: i'm lowkey crashing out in FOMO so bad bc materialists won't release in my country until july 31th💔 the need to move to US for my master's just to inherit a lifelong debt but never missing out as a cinephile again,,, HhmmM also, streets saying we're getting the gladiator II treatment in the marketing sense💔💔 UGH WHY WON'T YOU CHOOSE BILLIONARE IN THIS ECONOMY? PEDRO PASCAL FACED BILLIONARIE??!! tbh i'm a hypocrite bc if pedro was poor i'd still chose him anyway... this is in honor of materialists NYC premiere today, hope my man goes 🕯🕯

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Picking up calls you shouldn't pick up is a lesson you've yet to learn. Damned be your work habits slipping up into your personal life.

"Let's see if I understand" from the other line.

You take a deep breath, pausing. "Yes?"

"You're going on a date and didn't tell me"

You roll your eyes, looking out the window.

"I would've told you if it was a date, Rach"

You were always a good liar.

"At least I could helped you pick your outfit" she whines. "Like old times!"

It's almost as if you can see her pouting through the phone.

"I would've let you" you concede, "but I already chose the dress you gave me last Christmas"

A fine red garment tailored in authentic silk that hugged your body just right.

"Great choice. That's a killer" then, there's silence, followed by a loud gasp that elicits another eye roll from you. "Wait. Don't tell me- You're already there!"

Your lips quirk up in a smirk. "Maybe"

"You are a terrible friend" but Rachel's words carry no real weight. "At least give me a clue?"

You remember the address, marked in the GPS screen in front of you.

"Boring"

"That's not a clue" she huffs, "everything's boring to you"

You look out the window, the mansion coming into your view.

"Extra boring"

"It's a social gathering, then. You hate those" and you hate how much she's right. Probably knows you better than your dad. Yourself even.

"Your silence proves I'm right" and again, you roll your eyes.

"Goodbye, Rach"

"At least find someone to take home. Your house reeks of loneliness"

It's a joke, but there's a weird pit in your stomach when you hang up. It shouldn't matter that much, but you can't keep pretending you are choosing to spend more time at the office, because going back to a place where the only sound is that of your own steps, echoing back to you, the surface and space looking so artificial, like a hotel room, has become some sort of torture.

Your driver, Joaquín, parks right in front of the entrance. Before he moves, you raise your hand.

"I can do this by myself. Thanks"

He knows better to contradict you and you don't know if you are convincing him or yourself.

"Have a nice night, Ms. y/n"

You open the door, sighing as the heels dig into the pebbled road. I'll try.

As he drives away, you can't help but think again what were you really doing here. It's not like you needed the money, so, again, why did you agree? Willingly accepting to help Harry and his friend, people who you could care less, the first even nearing enemy territory. But for some reason, the moment those brown eyes landed on you, it felt like yes was the only correct answer.

"Welcome, Miss. Can I see your invitation?"

You think it's pointless: would you've driven all the way here if you weren't invited?

"Here"

You don't know why but the moment you step in, your eyes search for him, Harry, as if your body moved on instinct. Betraying.

A waiter walks by and you take whatever it's on his tray, downing the liquid with a gulp. Once the small tingling buzz settles into your system, you find that easy practiced smile of yours: cold enough to be polite but not warm enough to be confused for anything more.

"Having fun?"

You spin, dress doing a little reveal of your bare legs, yet he doesn't even look your way, that kind of silent promises and respect faithful men hold onto when they've swore their heart to only one woman.

"I'm trying"

"That's the spirit" he chuckles, lowly. "Is there anything I can do to make your night better?"

You fake a pondering gesture.

"Maybe get you another drink?"

"Thanks, but I want to walk straight when I exit through that door"

"Smart girl" he quips, "but I hope you don't plan on leaving soon"

You take the time to look at him under the chandeliers.

"I have manners"

This man has a kind smile that reaches his eyes, a dark grey but still holding onto a spark for life, not dull at all. His hair matches his gaze, and so does his neatly trimmed beard. His face is aged, probably about the same age as Harry, if you were to take a guess.

"Paul" you recognize. "Paul Lauder"

Lauder offers his hand and a charming smile, like all the men from his circle have been cut from the same cloth: gentleman manners that hide calculating characters. Still, there was something about the man and owner of the house standing before you, that seemed genuine.

"Am I that easy to recognize or has my friend already talked about me?"

A million questions raise through your head. If he was talking about him, how did he know you knew each other? It was a given in your society, yes, but to speak about you both in such friendly terms? Or worse: had Harry spoken of you to his friends?

"Forgive me. I talk nineteen to the dozen"

Your body tenses at just the sound of his voice, and there he is, the man of the hour.

"Harry" Paul calls him, another gentle smile making its way to his face.

"The one and only. Don't tell me you know another one" he jokes.

He still hasn't looked your way, and you don't know why that makes your skin hot.

"You're irreplaceable, my friend"

Now you see why he insisted on helping him. Paul's a true friend: a rare gem, especially in New York's elite.

"This is y/n" Harry introduces you, "David's daughter"

Its only then that Harry looks at you. A fast up and down, barely noticeable, but you were an observer, always. Part of your work and charm, just what made you perceptive and deadly enough. His eyes linger on the open skin, in the cut of your leg, and then move to your face, gaze holding. Daring, almost. And the he chuckles. Harry fucking chuckles, the sound low and grave. A fuzz settles in your cheeks and you choose to blame the alcohol rush.

You desperately wish to know what Harry's thinking.

"Ah. So this is she" a knowing smirk makes its way into his mouth. Then, his eyes widen. "Wait, David? Oh, haven't you grown? Into an extraordinarily beautiful woman, nonetheless. You sure look like your mother"

The compliment feels paternal at best, but a knife slowly twists into your ribs at the last sentence. None of the men seem to catch this.

"She has" and Harry takes your hand from seemingly nowhere, body closer than you anticipated. Grabs your hand and kisses it like he means it. The other man observes it all in silence. "The belle of the ball"

"Except this is my birthday, not a dance" Paul banters, nudging the billionaire gently on his side, as if you hadn't gone completely at loss for words. You hated to be unprepared, yet Harry always seemed to turn you into a house of cards, his wind sweeping you off your feet.

"There's music" Castillo is quick to reply. "That has to count for"

Paul lets out an easy laugh. Then, looks over his shoulder, and you don't miss the way his eyes light up, unaware adoring smile on his face, the rest of the world reduced to a meaningless blur.

"It's my turn, I suppose" you don't understand what he means. "I want to introduce you to my wife"

You see Harry's body tense and smile falter by centimeters, barely noticeable.

So this is it. This is the part where you meet her. Your newest job.

Your eyes follow Paul's direction, only to be knocked breathless.

Her beauty is obvious, insulting even, making you uncomfortable in your own skin. It's in the way she carries herself, smiles all white, her teeth perfectly lined; blinding. Dress ivory and clean, making your red one feel vulgar in comparison.

You wait for the cold to hit you, but when Paul slides a hand across her back, resting behind not to claim nor brag, but to belong and feel her warmth, she smiles, not for the room, but to the man who looks at her like she makes life worth living.

You're confused.

"This is Grace" he introduces her, proud.

The woman shakes your hand. Even her gestures seem the perfect mixture of delicate and proud. You tell her your name and suddenly, she's smiling again.

"Pleased to finally meet you. Harry has talked so much about you"

His stare burns from your side. So he has indeed talked about you before. You decide not to dwelve too much on how that makes you feel.

"Alright, that's enough" he laughs, clipped. A hand slides across your back, and it feels deliberate.

An instrumental cover of an old 90s ballad you can't quite place begins to play.

"This is my favorite" Grace beams, green eyes sparkling with joy.

"I know. That's why I asked it to be played"

She swats his chest playfully while yours aches with a silent press. Grace links her arm with Paul and gives you a goodbye smile.

"I'll leave you two alone. I have an important dance to attend"

Before going, Paul gives Harry one last look, one you can't decipher. Your breath feels oddly constricted.

"Just us again. Is this perhaps fate telling us something?"

You scoff.

"That I should go home"

"Is that so? Didn't take you for a downer" Harry laughs.

"I'm not" you protest like a child, embarrased.

He's enjoying this, by the way he smirks. "I don't believe you"

"I don't care" but you keep looking on his direction.

"Fine. How about this? Give me a dance and I'll believe you"

You face him, annoyed.

"Do you ever stop doing business?"

He just offers his hand.

"Quick. Offer's expiring and everyone's staring"

Harry's right, though. You hate their whispers and looks, so, be it the pressure or way your heart beats when his fingers slip between your own, you concede.

"Just one. You're lucky I don't like unwarranted attention"

He guides you to the center.

"You better get used to it. You're a natural"

The soft strings and notes of jazz waft through the air. Grace and Paul laugh somewhere to your side.

"But I hardly know this beauty by my side"

You might break your neck with how fast you raise your view, stuck before on the sway of your feet.

"Huh?"

"Lady in red?"

His hand softly caresses the silk of your dress, like a wind breeze.

"Me?" you ask, voice caught in your throat.

Harry laughs. With or at you.

"No, the song"

That's why it was vaguely familiar.

He quirks an eyebrow. "Don't you know Chris de Burgh?"

"All I know is my feet are killing me"

"So dramatic" yet his voice is soft. As the cello hidden behind drums and bass. Too soft. Stable as the Roland TR-808 drum machine for the drum pattern. Tension hanging like the synthesizer, acknowledged but not spoken of.

Harry had this effect on you. He just brought this side of you, a more unguarded side no one saw or dared to search for. Not even Rachel, who you spoke to. You talked to Harry. Because he looked past your walls. He tried. Took the time to pluck brick by brick. Like it mattered. You weren't New York's most sought-after divorce lawyer nor David Beaumont's daughter, just a girl who tried too much and is tired of doing so, and had finally been seen: the eyebags and the pleading eyes. The yearn for something she would never say outloud, between pride and the refusal to name something she can't even name.

"We always end up dancing" you comment, hand firmly holding his. Because it has become too much, and you'd rather go back to the light swimming than the drowning.

"We always end up doing the same things"

You think about the first time you met him. Not the very first, but the one you saw Harry Castillo for the first time.

It was at your father's fourth wedding, with a woman you can't seem to remember by face nor name.

"I hate weddings" you had said, not expecting to be heard but to be understood; the entlitement of your silver spoon was inherit. You felt as if you were wearing a costume of some sorts: a polished aspect that hid that bitter taste of seeing your father's failure and betrayal all over again, front row. You saw by the corner of your sharp eyes the way Harry tensed, unsure if he should even acknowledge you. So you sat in silence for the rest of the ceremony, answer hanging in the air, and when your father swore an expiring love again, you walked out, not before sparing one last glance his way.

He did too.

It made you falter a bit, unsure, almost tripping on the bench. For a moment, it seemed like he could see what you hid: the light tremble in your hands, the unopened invitations yet showing up at the last minute because you had no one else in this life, and how, despite your cruel jokes and harsh words, your eyes turned glassy when you allowed yourself to look at the bride as a kid looks at the shiniest toy behind the display, forbidden to be touched. For a moment, Harry Castillo saw the little girl who wore the heavy crown of a last name, words and grown face like an armour.

"I hate you"

Or maybe you fear him and the way he picks the scabs of your best hidden wounds, searching for the meaning of you past the shells of healed by force scrapes.

He closes his eyes, feigning hurt. "And here I thought we've gotten past base one"

"I hate you" this time sharper. You wish you could mean every ounce of venom laced within.

"You don't mean that" softly, like his gentle tug on your dress. Like the calm of your storms.

No answer, but the tiniest phantom of a smile graces your lips.

"Tell me about Grace"

Harry's grip tightens on your hands. "What about her?"

"I don't think she's the villain you're trying to make her be"

He narrows his eyes. "Give it a few days. She's just a pretty face"

"You say it like that's all there is"

"No" he's quick to answer. Then pauses, probably pondering. "But it certainly helps"

He looks at your lips. Under the lights, it's hard to distinguish if the red across your face is of anger or just a blush.

"Harry-" you beg without knowing why. A greater woman wouldn't.

"What?" like he's dealing with a naive kid.

"Don't lie to me" you seethe.

Not you. Everyone but you.

The song keeps playing in the distance, yet all you can hear is the ringing of your ears.

"I'm not"

It's pathetic to care this much about someone you claim to despise, finding hurt in a rift across the laces of trust in such strange interwoven bond. A phantom thread.

"Where are going?"

Your feet develop a mind of it's own. You don't spare him a glance, breathing suddenly a difficult task.

"Outside"

The cool evening breeze hits you. So does the smell of water, the soft sounds of a fountain in the background.

"At least this time it's a garden"

You and balconies. Another of your rules broken. By Harry, again.

"What are you doing?"

You admire his persistance. With shaky fingers, you reach for one of your dress' pockets.

"Thinking"

"It's such a nice evening to be doing that" as if nothing happened.

You roll your eyes, pulling out the lighter with your mother's initials.

"I'm trying to think who is lying to me"

His face falls.

"Y/n" as a warning, maybe a plea. "The answer is obvious. You don't know her, but you know me"

"I don't" you cut, harsh. "As you don't know me either"

You keep saying the same words, as if they were a shield of some sorts, to protect you from falling under his spell.

Harry Castillo scoffs.

"I'm trying, trust me. But you never make it easy" then, his charming smile is back on, slipping on it like a costume of some sorts. Tailored suit: just for him. "Lucky for you, I'm not a quitter"

"Do you have a cigarette?"

His face betrays surprise. Still, he pulls a Marlboro Gold and hands it like a peace offering.

"You said you quit"

The light flickers, smell of nicotine mixed with that of the flowers of the night garden.

You hold his gaze. "I'm not a quitter"

Harry pulls one of his own too. Takes a long drag, tired, before asking.

"Do you want the truth?"

You face him, expression unreadable. A weak smoke cloud billows over your eyes, masking their shine.

"I don't care"

"Don't lie to me" he repeats your words, but instead of the severity of your own, his are laced with benignity.

"I don't care"

"I didn't want to be alone"

You take another drag, silent, wishing for louder words and not spaces of silence that leave your mind restless.

"Harry Castillo, who could buy all of Manhattan, can't find a simple escort?"

He scoffs, seemingly offended. "That's not what I meant"

But not for the accusation at his expense, rather at your lack of (or lack of wanting to) understand.

"Too low for you, I get it. Where all your model friends busy?"

"One, they're not my friends. I can count those with my fingers" he lifts six. "Besides, I doubt twenty something year olds would be friends with a forty-seven year old finance guy"

You take a drag. "What does that make us then, Harry?"

Harry exhales. "We aren't friends"

Your lips curve up. "And two?"

It's his turn to smile.

"I doubt they would choose to accompany me to an old people dinner instead of a night clubbing with their age appropriate friends" he casts you a look, deliberate. "What would you do?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

His smile widens.

"Tricked, but you are"

You smash the half burnt cigarette against a stone statue next to you.

"Grace isn't the problem"

"Sweet Grace may be eleven years younger, and we know what that means in our world, but God, doesn't that woman love Paul?"

You chuckle, lowly.

"Jealous?" you find yourself teasing him.

He casts you a quick look. "Of course I am"

Even if his tone is light and playful, there is a quiet longing laced within. You gulp harshly.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you"

Your heart shouldn't beat this fast. You chuckle, weakly.

"Elaborate"

"Of course you have to know everything, don't you? You can't help but want to understand it all"

You laugh. "Is that so bad?"

"It's very... you"

"Got it. I'm the bad I was asking about"

For the first time, you both join in laughter. It's so easy feeling this comfortable with Harry, you think. Like it's meant to be. All pretenses left behind for a moment of too loud unguarded laughs.

When the laughter dies, he takes one last drag before putting his cigarette out.

"It's because you're the only one who could play along and not make more out of it"

You're not sure you want to face him. Still, you do, offering a tight lipped smile his way.

"Because I'm smart"

"Of course, you're a Beaumont"

A beat.

"You could've told me"

He shots a look your way, eyebrow arched.

"Would've you accepted if I told you the truth?"

You ponder for a moment before answering.

"No"

"Be honest"

"No, but I would've told you to fuck yourself"

Harry smiles. "That's better"

You join him. "I could send a lawsuit your way for lying"

"I doubt that, divorce lawyer"

You let out a dramatic gasp.

"I went to law school. I know this things"

"I'd like to see you try"

"Are you challenging me, Mr. Castillo?" you dare, mischievous.

"Please, don't call me that. You make me feel old"

"That you are"

"You're impossible" he sighs. "Older, then"

The wind blows your hair a little wild. It gets on your face.

"We should go inside" you say.

"Yeah. We should"

You feel a hot rush through your face when his fingers remove the loose strands, touch delicate. His gentle ministrations find a way inside your tense heart, nesting inside in a pulsating soft ache.

He offers his hand. "Dance with me. As an apology"

"That sounds like another favor"

"Yeah. So we get more prying and envious glances thrown our way"

"I feel I'm getting the short end of the stick here"

Harry laughs. "I'm the old man with a pretty lady on my arm"

"The lady in red" and the color matches your cheeks and dress.

"Is dancing with me"

You take his arm. "Lyric?"

"Truth as well"

When you get back inside, Paul's eyes find you soon enough. You try not to think too much about the meaning behind his smile.

"So..."

"So?"

You take his hands first, diving in. They're warm, holding yours back without second thoughts.

"Let's dance"

And you do, trying not to feel special for being the one Harry Castillo chose.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas / 🏷: @io12n @dowscal @oscar-isaac @joelscowgirl @jxvipike @klarkapascal @lostinmyownmaze @folklore-barnes @alinacecee @sukitruqui @youusunshineyoutemptress @hermionelove @noisynightmarepoetry @ann-gell @suzysface @joelmillerpascal @ennvsco @not-the-teen-witch (comment if u wanna be added!)

[shimkey-blog]

Ok, Long post

Since you are a doctor, you know about the scientific method of hypothesis, discourse, peer reviewing and conclusions, yes? Let's do that

Opinions

Everyone is entitled to their opinion. And if your opinion has been disregarded because of your age, I'm sorry you had that happen to you and I don't think @tomorrowwithme was doing that.

However there's a difference between saying, "Frankenstein is a story about pregnancy and the difficulty of nurturing a child" and "Frankenstein is written by H.P. Lovecraft"

Opinions when stated as a fact without informing oneself is a sign of ignorance and immaturity. And twe (short for the URL) was informing you about the legacy and cultural value that Sindoor does

Now onto the next point of argument

Feminism in India

Women and femininity have been worshipped and respected for millennia. And consequences for hurting them is also communicated

In Ramayan, Raavan won against the devatas, he was an accomplished scholar, fantastic architect and he understood Vedas better than anybody and even controlled the movement of planets (and by extension destiny), he had a massive army and a fortified island nation.

Because he hurt an innocent woman, everything he held dear was destroyed. The same thing happened to the Kauravas and their ilk

When Durga Pujo is held in west bengal there's a tradition of inviting girls from childhood to do puja, give them gifts and celebrate their existence.

And through this tradition what our ancestors were communicating is to take care of girls, and to treat them with respect and tenderness.

If so why is the opposite happening?

Current (Unfortunate) Reality

Our Subcontinent has been at the forefront of everything that mattered in a civilization:

Mathematics, Philosophy, Architecture, Art, Medicine, Astronomy

We were working with Trigonometry, Binomials and Calculus before they were formally understood in the western hemisphere.

And on the philosophy front the current understanding of consciousness and brain is hauntingly similar to what the advaita school of thought has been for CENTURIES

and I really don't think I need to explain architecture and art, you can look that up yourself.

All this brings up a burning question, why the fuck are we behind now? (Hint: It's probably colonialism)

Why are we here now?

My opinion is that while the traditions and stories are being transmitted the deeper meanings have not been communicated effectively and I blame the focus on western ideologies and the lack of understanding that happens because of it creating a snowball effect.

There are also idiots who twisted our systems and structure to their benefits and that has caused far more destruction.

And I would argue that you are misplacing the blame on the culture instead of these idiots

Is there an imbalance that is currently causing harm? Yes

Are there asshats who are using this to their advantage? Also Yes

We have a block of gold (culture) that is caked in the mud of ignorance and inaccuracy. And throwing the gold because cleaning up the mud is hard is incredibly stupid

Our culture has stood the test of time for a reason.

Conclusion

Our brain uses heuristics and tropes to summarise and label any concept. It's part of the reason why anthropomorphizing an idea is helpful.

However this is a reductive method of thinking and it's dangerous whenever you are trying to understand something deeply.

By reducing the culture to Patriarchy (similarly to other westaboos) you have denied yourself the wonder of understanding our culture.

If you need to behave in such a way to fit into your clique, by all means go ahead. I don't give a fuck. However don't antagonize or project your issues onto others

Also since you brought up wording to attribute this to twe, I'm gonna say this

I have been following twe for a while and the way she has answered the anon questions and her posts treat them is frankly inspiring.

I marvel at her patience and slight exasperation of dealing with ignorance. She also primarily informs people rather than spew hate in the way that anon ask was.

The ask was funnily enough similar to the nonsensical argument given by you and (presumably your friend)

And if you really want a proof I could look into some python code that could analyse the writing style of the blogs in question but frankly I'd rather use my weekend for something productive and it is better for everyone to move on

And please don't try to pull rank in any scenario. Only immature and childish idiots pull rank, you are a residential doctor that is clearly very mature and wise beyond your years aren't you?

Indian leftist / progressive / feminists are unique assholes. When India launched the military campaign Operation Sindoor in response to the Pahalgam Massacre of unarmed Hindus in the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir, Indian leftists started posting malcontent about sindoor being "a symbol of patriarchy and Hindutva dog whistle", and Indian opposition parties such as Indian National Congress who are the main opposition of Bharatiya Janata Party have been non-stop mocking Operation Sindoor and sindoor.

To all the Indian leftist / progressive / feminist assholes who are continuously maligning sindoor, fuck you. Sindoor is our pride. It is our sacred symbol of marriage that a married Hindu woman is given by her husband in front of Agni. Pakistani jihadist terrorists made Hindu women into widows in Pahalgam Massacre. Indian government pledged to punish the culprits and honoured the victims by giving a powerful, symbolic name to this military operation. All anti-Hindu scums have only been mocking sindoor.

Sindoor daan. Here to keep existing. Indian progressives hope you choke on sindoor and keep crying more.

[brokenmenswhore]

first | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders (james, remus, & sirius) x fem!reader

summary: virginity loss trope :)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language, gender swapped dorcas cus i said so 🤷🏻‍♀️

────── ☾ ──────

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, body halting as the staircase began to shift beneath you, “and completely untrue.”

“Oh come on, you never do anything interesting! For your sake, it has to be true,” Sirius teased.

You turned to him, mouth open in offense. “I’m plenty interesting.”

“But not interesting enough to lose your virginity to Meadowes in the library during fourth year?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“No! It didn’t happen!” you protested, “now please, let it go.”

“How would a rumor like that even get out if it isn’t true?” James asked genuinely.

“Probably because everyone knows Meadowes has the hots for her. Bet you he started it himself,” Remus answered, distaste evident in his voice.

“Are you three done now?” you asked, whispering the common room password and letting the boys in.

“So if it isn’t true, how did you lose it?” Sirius pressed.

You looked at him stunned, eyes wide in disbelief that he would ask you something like that out of the blue.

“Absolutely not,” you said, raising a finger toward him, “I’m not playing that game.”

“Oh come on!” Sirius raised his hands and smiled, “you’re no fun.”

“Yeah, now I’m curious,” James continued on, “if not Dorcas, who?”

You sighed, placing your books down and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, turning toward them exasperated. “Why does it matter?”

“You know seventeen of the girls I’ve slept with by heart,” Sirius replied, “I’d say it’s only fair.”

“Sirius, you told me about seventeen of the girls you’ve slept with. Willingly. Without me asking. Ever,” you said, earning a laugh from James at your disgust.

They followed you up the stairs to your dorm, empty from everyone sneaking off to a party in the Ravenclaw common room that you were supposed to be getting ready for, but alas, you were late and distracted.

You sat down in front of your vanity mirror, ready to start applying makeup, when Remus placed a hand on the desk in front of you, leaning his face in close to you, his hair falling slightly in front of his face. He was completely in your personal space.

“Come on, Y/N, tell us who got to fuck you first.”

Remus’ voice was low, and his breath fanned your face as he spoke. You locked eyes with him, a sigh leaving your chest that you weren’t aware you were holding in. You were nervous to have him this close.

“No one has. Sorry to disappoint. Now drop it, will you?”

Remus didn’t move. You continued to look up into his eyes, your voice a little shaky, and you didn’t know what to do. You moved to get up, but Remus caught your chin between his fingers, pulling your attention back to him. “Meaning what?”

“Did you not hear me? Cus you’re like 6 inches away from me, so if you didn’t, you need to get your hearing checked,” you said, annoyed at your current predicament, just wanting to make the embarrassing conversation end. Remus finally let you stand, but Sirius and James were right behind you, stopping you from leaving the room. You opted to sit on your bed.

“You guys are insufferable.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “So you’re-“ he trailed off.

“A virgin, yes, wow, how crazy of me. You know, it’s not that weird, you all just have a personal body count higher than everyone at this school combined. And everyone else’s body count includes you. Can we please just forget about this?” you begged.

“Such attitude,” James teased, “from such a good girl.”

“Oh, so I’m a goodie two-shoes now that you’ve all discovered I’ve never had sex?”

“Kinda, yeah,” James giggled.

“Fuck you guys,” you sighed, partially lighthearted and partially annoyed, “it was my choice. You think I couldn’t have screwed Dorcas Meadowes in the library if I wanted to?”

No one had a response. Sirius’ nostrils flared, and Remus sighed. They almost seemed… jealous? at the thought of you and someone else.

You four were ridiculously close, anyone could see that, and you would be lying if you said you haven’t thought about them in that way, but you were best friends, and you didn’t want to risk ruining that.

“You ever think about, like, just doing it?” Sirius asked.

“What?” you replied.

“Do you ever think about just saying fuck it and asking someone, like, I don’t know, one of us, to just take your virginity?”

Your breathing caught in your chest. You stared at Sirius, a million thoughts coming to your head but you couldn’t articulate any of them. You had no idea what to say.

“I mean, I’ve thought about losing my virginity, yeah, that’s normal,” you explained.

“To one of us?” Remus asked.

You could lie. You could act disgusted at the question and walk away now, or, you could tell the truth, and risk ruining your entire friendship. You could also tell the truth and potentially gain everything you wanted.

Your voice became small, your eyes watching your hands fidget in your lap, “maybe.”

The boys all exchanged a look between one another.

James was the only one who was able to pull himself together. “W-who?”

You titled your head up at him. “What?”

James sat down on the bed next to you. “Which one of us?”

You could physically see all the boys tense up, ready to be filled with either pride or jealousy. Sirius and Remus were staring daggers at you, anxiously awaiting your answer. James kept his eyes on you as well, trying to make you feel less intimidated and tense than Sirius and Remus were.

Your eyes darted between all of them, “I-“

You were evidently nervous, and Remus felt bad. He knelt on the ground in front of you, taking your hands in his own. It was the most intimate gesture you’d received from him yet. He kept his voice soft. “Angel, you don’t have to tell us, but we really want to know. I promise none of us will be too hurt. Please,” he almost begged.

You sighed. You weren’t worried because you only thought about one of them, you were worried because you were embarrassed to tell them the truth. You took a deep breath. It was now or never. “All of you.”

They were not prepared for that answer.

Remus and James stared at you and tried to process your words. Sirius was more of an “act on impulse” and “speak without thinking” kind of guy.

“Fuck off,” he said, “all of us?”

“Mhm.”

“Like at the same time?” he pushed.

“Sirius-“ Remus warned.

“No, no, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, attention back on you, “I wanna hear you say that you’ve thought about losing your virginity to all three of us. At the same time. I wanna hear you say that you’ve thought about us fucking you.” He was standing dangerously close to you now.

“I- I have,” you said, blush evident in your cheeks.

Sirius growled. “Remus, move.”

“Excuse me?” Remus snapped back.

“Move.”

Remus sighed and moved out of the way so that Sirius was standing directly in front of you. “You stop us if there’s anything you don’t like. Understood?”

You nodded your head, but that wasn’t enough.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you retried.

Sirius gave you a small smile before grabbing your face in his hands, tilting your head up and leaning down to give you a long, intimate kiss. Once you had settled in, he deepened the kiss, his carnal desires taking over. He slowly leaned you back on the bed, your legs still hanging off the mattress, as he placed one knee next to your waist, holding himself up as he continued kissing you. When your back hit the mattress, you held the back of Sirius’s head to keep him in place.

You felt one of the boys behind Sirius, pulling your pants off and leaving your lower half nearly exposed.

Sirius flopped down on the bed next to you, still kissing you as you ran your fingers through his hair.

James slowly kissed up your thigh, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders as he kissed your underwear right above your heat. You gasped, but Sirius didn’t let you break the kiss.

“Sirius, come on, give her a break,” James pleaded, “I wanna hear her.”

Sirius groaned into the kiss before breaking it, looking down to James in between your legs. “Well, go on then.”

Sirius was still feral and needy, pulling your shirt over your head and ripping off your bra, immediately going to grab and kiss at your breasts. You were embarrassed at the exposure, but everyone was moving on your body so fast that you didn’t have time to think about your body being on display.

James pushed your underwear to the side and kissed your folds, causing you to squeal. This was an unfamiliar feeling, but you were growing wetter and wetter by the minute. He pushed your folds open with his tongue, licking and flicking at your clit. You whined and threw your head back. He continued his actions, peeking up at you from between your legs, watching you come apart as he ate you out like a man starved.

“Take it easy,” you heard Remus say from behind your head, “you gotta remember she’s never done this.”

James moaned into your cunt as a response, sending a shiver up your body, causing your legs to shake slightly. He kept sucking and licking circles around your bud, and you couldn’t help but grab the hair at the back of his head, pushing him closer into you.

“Good girl,” Sirius cooed from beside you, touching every exposed part of your body that he could.

As James’ tongue quickened, your whines grew louder, but you tried to tame them and save yourself further embarrassment. Remus noticed and was not happy. He grabbed your face and forced your neck to look backward at him. “Are you holding back?”

“N-no,” you said anxiously, not sure if it was the truth.

“Ah, but I think you are,” he started, “and we don’t accept that. Let us hear you.”

“But I’m emb-“

“I don’t care if you’re embarrassed. Stop holding back. Now.”

Remus’s demanding and controlling demeanor only added at the pleasure James was giving you with his mouth. You did as he said. James continued to quicken his pace, whines and moans falling from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” Remus asked.

“Yes, Rem, I-“

“No fair!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed, “if you ask her all the questions, you get to hear her moan your name. Selfish prick.”

“Are you gonna let this be about her or what?” Remus retorted.

“I am! I should be asking you the same thing, why do you always get to be in control of everything?”

They bickered back and forth for a few minutes, but the entire time, James remained focused on you. He watched from between your legs as his tongue made you squirm and moan, and he had you nearly seeing stars.

You desperately tried to tell him you were going to come, but Remus and Sirius were too busy bickering for James to hear you. You tapped at his head to signal him, and he got the message, sucking at your bud until you finally came. Your chest rapidly rose and fell as James continued to lick you until he had tasted every last drop of cum from your hole, standing up and placing a wet kiss on your lips.

“What, did you just give up?” Sirius asked when he saw James standing.

“No, idiot, she came,” James replied, “you two dickheads were too busy arguing to notice.”

Remus’s nostrils flared. “You just let us keep arguing?”

“She tried to say something!” James defended you, and partly himself.

“Baby, you ok?” Remus checked in.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“You got a little more in you?”

“Mhm.”

“You want me?”

“Mhm.”

Remus pulled his pants and boxers down and climbed on top of you, pulling your underwear completely off of you as he placed his knees on either side of your waist.

“You sure?” he asked, wanting to confirm your consent.

“Yes,” you responded.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with it being me?”

Instead of responding with words, you tilted your head up and kissed Remus, assuring him that you wanted it to be him. You would have been okay with any of the boys, but Remus was always so in control, it made sense that he would be your first. Your relationship with him was always a little less silly, and a little more intimate, than your relationship with the other two.

“Are you ready?” he checked, lining up his already hard cock at your entrance.

“Yeah,” you replied, “just- please be nice, okay?”

Remus smiled, “of course, baby.”

You nodded at him and locked eyes as he slowly pushed into you, a long gasp leaving your lips as he filled you up. His cock was bigger than you thought it would be, and it was taking you a while to adjust to his size.

“Shit, Rem,” you breathed out, “you should have warned me that you’re that fucking big.”

Sirius growled next to you, your words driving him crazy. He couldn’t help but pull out his cock, stroking it slowly as he watched you.

Remus gave you plenty of time to adjust before you nodded at him, signaling that he could move. He started slowly, pushing in and out of you as an excruciatingly slow pace. It burned, and you almost told Remus to stop, but after a few minutes, the pain subsided, and the pleasure took over.

A particularly filthy moan left your lips, and Sirius cursed under his breath. James appeared behind your head, stroking your hair as Remus’s head dropped to your shoulder as he began to pick up the pace.

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, “you feel so fucking good.”

“You look so fucking good,” Sirius breathed.

“Thank you, Siri,” you cried out, causing Sirius to cum in his hand, the nickname making him lose all control.

“What a good girl,” Remus spoke, his thrusts quickening until he was causing your body to jolt upward with each hit from the force, “you’re doing so well.”

James placed a kiss on your forehead and you reached up to grab his hand for leverage. You squeezed his hand, the pleasure between your legs becoming almost too much.

“Relax, baby, you’re being such a good girl,” James said.

Remus’ breathing quickened. “You’re so tight, angel, if you keep squeezing my cock like that I’m not gonna last,” he warned.

“I c-can’t help it,” you told him.

“I know baby,” he replied.

“I d- don’t know how to m- make it stop,” you said.

Remus giggled, “you don’t have to make it stop. It feels good for me.”

“Oh,” you whimpered, “that’s good.”

Remus giggled again. You were so cute, even in the middle of losing your virginity. Remus leaned down and kissed you, your lips moving in harmony as he began to pound into you. Any sense of kindness and mercy he had for this being your first time went out the window when you kissed.

Your moans grew louder and louder, and you tried to cover your mouth with your hand to quiet yourself down.

“Ah ah ah,” Sirius tsked, pulling your hand away, “none of that.”

“Rem- Rem- I-“

“I know angel, let go.”

Your high crashed over you again, your hips bucking upward to meet Remus’ final few thrusts before he came inside of you, the feeling of you squeezing him becoming too much for him to hold on. Remus stayed inside of you for a moment, watching your face as you calmed down from your high, a slight shake in your legs.

“What a good girl,” James praised, kissing your forehead.

“You okay?” Remus checked in, pulling out of you and standing in front of you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “‘m okay.”

Sirius leaned down to kiss you again. “Everything you imagined?”

“Mhm.” You were too tired to formulate complete words or sentences.

“You wanna skip the party?” Sirius continued.

“Mhm.”

“You wanna cuddle and watch a movie?”

“Mhm.” You shifted so your head was resting on Sirius’ lap as he began to stroke your hair.

Sirius smiled. “And then maybe round two.”

[hanginginthevoid]

The Lighthouse

pairing: bob reynolds x fem!reader

summary: you’ve always been drawn to bob. at first you think it means something, but then you remember that yelena’s also always been drawn to bob. and its obvious that he prefers her over you.

a/n: i lovelovelovelovelove misunderstanding trope. the first thought i had leaving the theater was that i couldn’t tell if i wanted bob for myself or if i wanted him and yelena to get together, so this thought has been haunting me for a while. after this i am dried out for fic ideas, but ive been having fun writing so feel free to send reqs and ill do my best to fulfill them!

warnings: self-deprecation, misunderstandings, unrequited feelings?, kissing.., lmk if i missed sumn

word count: 3.3k

—

Outsiders would assume Bob and you were a couple. The two of you were always seen together, either doing a coffee run, or a bookstore, or the grocery store, or picking up takeout, or sometimes simply going for a walk. You’re sure the intertwined pinky’s might have swayed some elderly women in the wrong direction, but it really was just to not get separated in the crowds.

If it really was an option, you would date Bob. He just doesn’t have eyes for you.

Yelena was great, so you get why Bob would like her. She was the first person to show him unconditional kindness, probably in his whole life. The one who made sure during the whole ordeal of the vault he was safe and taken care of.

But you were there too. Weren’t you? Or did Bob just write out the fact that you were the one to pull him with you when you ran to escape the initial burning, and when you took a bullet for him since he didn’t have the reflexes to dodge.

Doesn’t matter anyway, he still only looks at Yelena like she hung the stars in the sky. Hell, he looks at her like she’s the one who blew air into his lungs to bring him to life. No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to get him to like you back.

Bob hates to be a bother, so he would rather suffer in silence instead of asking for help. You can relate to that, but you’ve helped him out after his nightmares enough times to think he would be able to wake you up when one happens. He doesn’t, so to compromise, you’ve started staying up later and later so you could hear the patter of his feet outside your door. 

Maybe you should stop though. One of these days it could get you injured on a mission. How stupid would you be to get hurt over an unrequited crush.

For once, it would be nice to be chosen. Not in the way that Valentina ‘Chose’ you to be an Avenger, but chosen because of how much someone knows you. Chosen because your qualities were redeeming enough. Chosen because all of the actions that you make that you feel are unseen, really aren’t. But that would be selfish of you, you aren’t the proper type to be chosen.

—  

Bob sees Yelena like a sister. Yes, during his bad days she's a light to bring him back to his senses. But you, you’re like a lighthouse, helping him guide his ship in the treacherous waters back to shore. No matter the problem, you always seemed to have the answer. 

In the teams early days, he tried to help out by cooking. Very quickly, he found out he couldn’t cook. You were the first to arrive to the scene, black smoke billowing out through the doorway, smoke alarm blaring. Instead of focusing on those, you focused on Bob. He had tears in his eyes, and before anyone had even arrived he was muttering apologies. 

He burnt his hand in his haste to get the meal out of the oven, hoping to prevent it from getting worse. After reminding him that mistakes happen, and that everything was fixable, you led him by his good hand to the infirmary to get him bandaged up, leaving the rest of the team to deal with the mess.

Bob can’t recall the amount of times that he’s fallen asleep in your room after a nightmare. He spent a period of time trying to not sleep, worried that the void would take over while he was in REM or something stupid like that. Whenever he did end up crashing from exhaustion, the anxiety and fear of causing havoc, or the awful memories that the void would inflict on him would wake him up. His hair would be matted all over his forehead and neck, sweat making his pajamas stick to his back and legs. 

Physically, you were the closest to him, your room just one door down on his left. Yelena was farther away, on the other side of the hall at the complete other end. Maybe his subconscious heard the sliding of your door just moments prior, but he would rather think it's the undeniable pull that you have. 

His knocking could have easily been missed, they were long allowing the noise to draw out because he knows he needs help, yet still soft and somewhat timid because he doesn’t want to be a bother. Nevertheless, you heard it and had the door sliding open within the minute.

You had a mug of hot chocolate in your grasp. A sleepy smile adorning your face as you asked him if he wanted to come in. You had some trashy TV playing lightly in the background as you worked on official Avengers paperwork, but you set it aside to make Bob a space in your bed.

You didn’t push him once that night. Just let him sit there in your company, watching as housewives made useless drama with each other.

When he eventually fell asleep, you tucked him in. Then you got up to put your a/c on since he normally runs hot, and two people under the same covers would only make more heat. When you got back into the bed Bob had reached for you so you softly grasped his hand in yours and the crease that had started to form in his brow alleviated. 

Bob tried to thank you, but you hadn’t let him because helping would be what any decent human does. Instead, he made you french toast, said it was the least he could do for taking up your space. So that became your routine, every morning after a nightmare Bob would make french toast. 

You never denied him. Never said you were too busy, too stressed, or even flat out didn’t want to. Whatever you were doing before he knocked would be moved aside, or powered down, and then if he wanted it your attention was all his, only his. Sometimes you’d talk about the nightmares, a good book your or Bob read, a recipe you wanted to try, or just the weather.  Other times the two of you would watch a movie, a show, or play either a video or physical game.

The two of you never mentioned the times that you would fall asleep cuddling. The nights where only whispers were shared and you’d rake your nails down his scalp to give him a distraction. The nights where his head would rest on your chest and he’d put at least half of his focus on matching your breathing pattern. He’d play with your free hand, either drawing patterns into your palm with his pointer finger or just simply fidgeting with your fingers.

Bob believes it's just something you're doing out of the kindness of your heart. You know it would make him feel better to let him be with someone, so you offer up yourself. Probably just so that no one else on the team has to suffer by taking care of him. But even if it's out of pity, he’d keep going to you, taking all the alone time he could get as long as you didn’t shut him out.

He’s fallen for you, Yelena confirmed his suspicion. The way he always volunteers to go on errands with you, the way he seeks you out at dinner to secure a seat next to you, the way he learned how to perfect your favorite meal before anyone else's, the way that he comms more for you than anyone else because he’d hate to see you even scratched from a mission.

—

You’ve had a long night. Too much paperwork, too many people you used to know informing you that they’re disappointed that you've ended up on such an ‘awful’ team. A wake up, preferably in the form of coffee, was necessary after the night you had. Thankfully Bob and Yelena had you covered, serving you shock instead. 

Maybe you’re overreacting, but Bob hasn’t woken you up because of a nightmare in weeks. For a normal person, that’s probably a standard amount of time. But for everyone who currently resides in the tower, that's at least a week too much.

Everyone's experienced at least one major traumatic event that keeps them up, and then continues to haunt their dreams. Most people handle it themselves, no one fully adjusted to the fact that they’re on a team and can easily ask for help when needed. Bob hasn’t been that person though, at least not with you. 

You realize this morning, it’s not that Bob stopped having nightmares. He’s started to go to Yelena for them. You heard his door slide open last night, and footsteps walking in the opposite direction of your room. Originally you assumed he went to get some water or something of that sort, but that thought was squashed the next morning when you saw Bob making Yelena french toast.

They’re laughing about something you can’t hear. And maybe its the look in Bob’s eyes, or the way he’s smiling like he’s never had a care in the world. Either way, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. From then on you’d move on from Robert Reynolds. 

—

Most people wouldn’t be able to recognize it at first. The way you drew back was subtle, made in steps so it would be less suspicious. First you started training more. You were often the first one in the gym, either punching the bag, running miles, or lifting weights. The headphones you wore always playing music, not particularly blasting but loud enough that when people approached they could understand to not bother you.

Then you started eating without the team. Whenever asked about it you’d either say you ate earlier or weren’t hungry. Usually the former was true, but sometimes you’d just blurt out something to get them off your back. Whenever you did end up eating with them, you’d avoid spots that had open seats on either side. One time you even had to sit next to Alexi. 

Sleeping earlier was the next step. ‘Sleeping’ really meant going to your room and staying as silent as possible. Leaving whatever room with a loud yawn usually meant that nobody would question if you were really getting rest or not. The few times that someone did question it, you would just tell them about how burnt out you were. 

From Bob’s perspective, all of these things were excusable. You wanted to be stronger and more prepared for missions, and you were so consumed in it that you couldn’t have meals or quality time with the team. While he wanted you to take better care of yourself, or wanted you to let him take better care of you, he would never want to overstep, so he kept to himself.

But then you started doing errands by yourself. That was always your thing. Why would you do them by yourself? Were you sick of him asking to do supplemental activities like walking through the park, or stopping in a cafe? It just didn’t make any sense.

He thought the two of you were closer than that. Maybe he really was right. You did just pity him and that’s the only reason you let him stick around for so long. Maybe Yelena knew something he didn’t. Girls have to talk about this stuff, right?

“Hey, Yelena?” Bob’s knocking on her door, hoping she’s not taking a midday nap.

A few seconds later the door slides partially open, “Goooood morning Bobert!” He winces at that, “No on Bobert then. What do you need?”

“It’s, well. Uh - you know who.” Bob’s rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

“Come in, come in.” Yelena ushers him in before shutting the door, “What about your special someone?”

Where does he even start? The fact that you’ve been avoiding him? Or the fact that you’ve stopped finding a seat so he could sit next to you during the rare times you join the team for dinner, knowing that he’s too non-confrontational to ask someone to move. Maybe he should start with the way that it seems like you’re training all day to avoid having to talk to him at night under the guise that you’re exhausted. 

He starts with the idea that you’ve cut him out of your life completely. If it was a printout it would not be done gently, as one would to someone who they held close to their heart. But rough, the cut uneven, jagged around the edges, the type that would give you a papercut if you ran your fingers along it. 

And he doesn’t even know why. What could he have done? You’ve always been understanding, always been the one to give the benefit of the doubt even when people didn’t deserve it. What could he have done to not deserve this kindness that you’ve given to everyone else? 

By the end of his rant, he’s crying. Yelena brings his head down to her shoulder, rubbing along his back to calm him. “I jus-just don’t get it. Am I that bad?”

“No. That is not it, Bob.” Even though he can’t see her shaking her head, Yelena still does it, “You must talk to her.”

“I can’t, I really can-”

“You must. And you will.” Her tone left no room for discussion or debate. 

Yelena reminds him that while you may be closed off, as they all are, you are not intentionally cruel. You would not leave Bob hanging after he goes to you asking for answers. She sends him on his way after that. He should get cleaned up before you get back, something about ‘putting his best foot forward’. 

—

When you get back to the tower, putting away the groceries is on the top of the list. Then afterwards you’re heading straight to your room to hole up. There’s a tall, looming figure across from your door though. 

By the hair you can tell it's Bob. He’s leaning against the wall, head pressed against it. His eyes are closed so unless you’ve been super loud, you doubt he knows you're there. How you were going to actually get into your room was a different problem. The doors were fancy, but they were loud leaving no way to sneak in.

Just as you’re debating on whether or not to actually attempt to sneak in, Bob’s eyes shoot open and his head turns to look at you. 

“Hey, y/n, hi - hi.” His smile is wobbly, nervous glint in his eyes.

“Hey Bob. What’s up?” If you can appease him quickly, then you can get back to the solace you find in your room. 

“Could we talk?” He’s moved in your way, somewhat preventing you from getting to the door.

“Uh - yeah, sure. About what though?” Your fingers are twitching, hopefully it’s subtle enough that Bob doesn’t notice.

Of course he notices though, he’s attuned more to you than himself sometimes. “You’ve been avoiding me. And I just wanted to know what I did. Whatever I did it's important to me that I take accountability and apologize for it.”

Well shit. “You didn’t do anything Bob. I’ve just got a lot on my mind as of late and I don’t want to bother anyone with it.” 

“It’s not a bother. Please tell me.” He’s grabbed your hand, stilling the twitches.

“Fine! You want me to spell it out,” Taking your hand back, cradling it with your other one, “I like you Bob. A lot. Like more than a friend should. And it hurts. It hurts that I’ve given you more than I’ve given anyone in a long time just for you to go and pick Yelena over me.”

Bob tries to cut you off, reaching out to grab your arm, but after a quick deep breath you continue.

“And I get it, I really really do. She’s your person, but you were mine. My quiet in the storm. I thought that our time meant something to you, that I meant something to you. But I was wrong. Can I please enter my room now?”

“No. No you can’t. Not until you hear what I have to say.”  

You’re frustrated, tears are forming on your waterline. Today was supposed to be easy, quick errands, then bed rotting. Now you’ve been forced to confess something you haven’t even written down in your diary just in case somebody decided to snoop. And even after that you still won't be granted safety or peace in the comfort of your room. 

“Why do you think I like Yelena?”

Bob doesn’t get a response. When he realizes you’re not going to respond he tilts your chin up to make eye contact.

“Y/n, why do you think I like Yelena?”

“Because! It's always her. Movie nights, the two of you are cuddling. Dinners, sure you’d sit next to me but only when in eyesight of her! Errands, you run off to get what she likes first every time. And the one thing I had, that really seemed like it was just mine, just ours,” You’re wiping away tears and sniffling, but if he wanted a response, he’d get a damn response,  “Was comforting each other in the dead of night. But then you were there, doing our routine with her and I realized it doesn’t matter what I do, Yelena will always come first.”

“What do you mean ‘our routine’? I didn-”

“The French toast? You only make that the morning after a nightmare. And you hadn’t stopped by my room for weeks. It made sense that you’d be seeking comfort somewhere else.”

“French… toast?” Bob’s thinking, you can see it by the distant look in his eyes. “I made french toast because I missed the way it tasted, and the fact that you always get this sparkle in your eyes when I make it.’

“You don’t have to lie for my sake. I can take it.”

“I'm not. Look at me please.” Instead of making you look up, he's bending down, “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. You can ask Yelena for all the details later, but right now you need to understand that I really like you too.”

“Its fine, Bob. Really.”

You’re still rejecting the fact that he cares for you in the same way that you care for him. So he does something he’s only seen in movies. His lips collide with yours briefly, just long enough for you to confirm that it wasn’t your imagination. 

“Is that enough proof for you?” You shake your head no, because it truly wasn’t enough. You’ve waited months for this moment; the least he could do was make it last a little bit longer.

When he kisses you the second time you make sure to kiss back. His lips are soft, moving slowly but still surely, like they knew all the proper movements but they just needed to remember them. 

The sliding of a door reminds the two of you as to your location. You split quickly when the noise slices through the air. Just Ava heading towards the kitchen if you had to guess. Maybe it was a good thing, who knows how far you would have gotten if you hadn’t broken apart. 

“So.. Can we go watch that show you like so much now?”

“The one you pretend to hate?” You’ve entangled yours and his hands, pulling him lightly towards your door.

“Yeah.. That one.” Bob is grinning goofily now. He’s sure he could come into your room freely now. Really soak up all your free time. He could explain that he hasn’t come to you for a nightmare in weeks because he truly hasn’t had one, once he’s wrapped up in your arms. And after that maybe he’d work on kissing you stupid.

likes/comments/reblogs will get your cheeks squished like im your grandma

[pedantic-poison]

Delicious | LN4

pairing: fem sainz!reader x lando norris

genre: SMUTTTTT, 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v, fingering, light choking, use of pet names (darling, baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!!!!), language, hold the moan vibes, dirty talk, Lando being a hoe

requested: yes!

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i LOVE me some brother's best friend trope

When your older brother first joined McLaren, you were unbelievably proud of him, so, naturally, you moved heaven and earth to make it to his first race with the team. Meeting Lando, you finally understood why all of Carlos' stories from before the season started were about his new teammate, and how much he made him laugh. He was friendly to you, and kind, and had a knack for making sure you never felt out of place. He also made your chest go a little tight, but you chose to ignore that feeling. Best not to complicate things for your brother.

It's been years since you first met Lando, and you can't quite use that excuse to convince yourself you need to avoid Lando. You still try, certainly, but it doesn't really carry the weight it used to, not with Carlos at Ferrari now. Would it still be messy? Maybe. Would it be a complete shit show? ...Probably not, right?

That little tendril of doubt created just enough space for that weird feeling Lando elicited to bloom. And now, with the Summer break giving Carlos time off, he's invited Lando to your family's home, for an entire week.

"Morning," the sound of Lando's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. As if it wasn't already bad enough that he was staying in your house, now Lando had the audacity to show up in the kitchen, voice gravely from sleep, with a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low enough on his hips to show the V-line of his muscles there. Your eyes trailed up his torso, allowing yourself to indulge in his tan skin and taut muscles for just a moment, before your gaze met his. A knowing look danced across his face, eyes glinting with mischief, as he smirked at you over his mug of coffee.

"Oh, um, good morning," you coughed out, embarrassed at having been caught. "How'd you sleep?" you managed to force out.

Lando took his time, finishing his sip of coffee before answering, "Slept alright. Couldn't fall asleep for a while, for some reason, though." You couldn't quite decipher the look on his face while he said it, but he didn't give you enough time to overthink it. "You?"

Your face heated immediately at the reminder of what exactly you'd been doing last night, instead of sleeping. "F-fine, thanks." It had been four long days where Lando had made himself seemingly unavoidable. Even at night, when you could close your door to the rest of the house, and lock yourself away, your thoughts strayed back to Lando no matter what you did. Last night, the ache in your core had gotten so unbearable that you'd touched yourself to the thought of him. It seemed that even the walls of your room couldn't quite keep Lando out.

"What's got you thinking so hard over there, Sainz?"

You schooled your expression, refusing to let him throw you off balance again. "Wouldn't you like to know, Norris." The coffee mug in your hands hid your face rather well as you lifted it to take a sip, leveling him with a look that you hoped seemed like a challenge.

Pushing off the counter he'd been leaning against, Lando took a step closer to you. "I really, really would, actually."

You allowed yourself to lean in for just a moment, inhaling the smell of him, before pulling back. "Too bad." Chair legs scraping against the floor as you pushed away from the table, standing and taking your mug and book with you.

"Oh, come on! You're really gonna tease me like that?" he whined, shouting at your back as you headed up the stairs.

"Gotta make you work for it, Norris!" you called back, retreating into your room once again, giddier than you'd care to admit, and telling yourself that you'd only left because you had work to do. Certainly not because you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to hold on with Lando under the same roof.

Just three more days.

The loud splashes and laughter from outside drew your attention away from your book, for what felt like the hundredth time in two minutes. Sighing exasperatedly, you rolled over on your bed, craning your neck up to look out of your window.

Carlos and Lando were in the pool in the backyard below you, squealing like little kids as they hit each other with water balloons. You rolled your eyes at the childish behavior, even as you fought (and failed) to keep a smile off of your lips. You heard your father's voice ring throughout the house, and Carlos and Lando must've heard it too, because they quickly dropped their makeshift weapons at the call that they needed to get cleaned up for dinner. Your parents weren't terribly strict, but even they preferred for everyone at their dinner table to be fully clothed and not dripping everywhere.

Just as you'd made your way out of your room to head downstairs, you froze, finding a sopping wet Lando Norris in the hallway. Even after you (accidentally) ogled him this morning, you couldn't manage to keep your eyes on his as you watched the way the droplets of water fell off the ridges of his chiseled chest and torso. You hadn't quite noticed how close you'd come to running into each other, barely a foot of space between you, that seemed to shrink more and more the longer you stared. And you weren't the only one. The sundress you wore hung off your body in a way that made Lando want to memorize every line and curve of it himself. Looking wasn't enough - he'd always been more of a hands-on learner, anyways. And the way the gentle breeze swirled the skirt of it around your hips and legs made him want to find out if you were wearing anything underneath it. Made him want to rip anything he found there off with his teeth.

"Hermanita! Lando! Dinner in twenty minutes!" Carlos shouted up, from the sound of it in the kitchen, most likely helping your parents like the doting son he was. Helping, unlike you. Standing in the hallway, now only inches from Lando, chest rising and falling erratically as you tried to convince yourself that you should not fuck your brother's friend and former teammate in your parents' house with your entire family downstairs.

"Twenty minutes," Lando breathed, barely above a whisper. He took a final step forward, mouth painfully close to touching yours as his spread into a mischievous grin. "I can work with that."

His lips crashed into yours, hands gripping your face delicately as he did so, moving only after yours landed in his hair. Lando finally, finally, got his hands on those hips that had been torturing him, tempting him, for years, squeezing as he pulled you into him. Your fingers raked through his curls, tugging gently as you pushed him backwards into your room. He went willingly, grinning into the kiss at your enthusiasm as you kicked the door shut behind you, letting you take charge for the time being and falling to the bed when the backs of his knees hit it, hands dragging down your thighs as he went. For a moment, you paused, taking in the way Lando was looking up at you. Adoring. Reverent. Hungry.

His hands on your thighs urged you forward to straddle him, sliding his grip up your back to pull your torso flush with his. "God, these fucking tits," he groaned, squeezing you harder into his chest before sliding his hands around to your front, cupping them harshly. Through lidded eyes, you watched his hands, large, nimble, and veiny, knead your breasts while he hummed appreciatively, unable to look away from your chest for even a moment. "Been waiting to get my hands on you for so long, sweetheart," he heaved, speaking into your skin as his lips trailed over your exposed chest, just under your collarbone, punctuating the statement with a final, firm squeeze of your tits.

Before you could finish the whine building in you at the loss of his hands, Lando had yanked down the flimsy straps of your sundress, allowing your tits to spill out over the neckline. Lando swears he could come from that sight alone. "You're so gorgeous," he muttered, more to himself than to you, before looking back into your eyes, "so fucking gorgeous." His lips found yours again, stealing your breath as one hand reached up to ghost over your nipple, already sensitive and hardening from the cool air in your room, while the other lowered to rest on your waist, gently urging you to rock your hips against him at your own pace. "So," his kisses now landed on your jaw, "so," your neck, "beautiful. I think it might actually kill me," gently nipping at your pulse point before soothing the tender skin with his tongue.

Your breath had grown shallow from the attention he paid to your neck and chest, hitching as he tweaked your nipple just right, almost harsh enough to be painful but light enough to make you crave more. But what caused your breath to quicken was the feeling of Lando under you. Those strong, muscled thighs, bracketed by your own, felt so firm you couldn't stop your mind from wondering how they would feel if you ground yourself against them. The way they tensed as he moved, or restrained himself from moving as he tried to let you set the pace, felt so delicious against your thighs and through layers of fabric, you can't imagine how they would feel flexing against your core. Delicious as those thoughts were, they would have to wait for another time, because nothing was more tempting than the press of his hard cock against you, straining at the material of his swim trunks, the remaining water of the pool dampening your already wet panties.

"Shh, sweetheart, we've got to be careful," Lando startles you, the hand that had been on your tits gently closing over your mouth, and only then did you realize just how much noise you'd been making. Your cheeks heated at the realization, feeling your breath catching in your throat, rapid and uneven, whimpers and whines and a whole host of other, embarrassing sounds trapped beneath the firm press of Lando's large hand. You were so worked up that even that thought, the sheer size of his palm against you, how those thick, nimble fingers would feel between your thighs, made you whine louder, hips speeding up as you sought some kind of friction. Lando's eyes darkened as you ground yourself onto him, harder, faster, hand tightening around your waist and thighs flexing underneath you. He was holding back, you could tell, his restraint hanging by a thread, and every move you made threatened to fray that thread to its breaking point.

You wanted to make him snap.

There would be another time to savor this, to take your time, to memorize every inch of him, later.

You raised one of your hands from his broad shoulders, gripping the hand that covered your mouth and tapping twice. Immediately, Lando removed his hand, eyes filling with concern that he'd done something wrong, but before he could ask you were already whining again.

"Please, Lan," you begged, hips pressing down as harshly as you could manage. "Need you so bad, please, please," your voice was thin and breathy, and if you weren't nearly delirious from finally having this, having him, within your grasp, you might've been embarrassed by it. "Don't tease me, I c - can't take it."

Lando's head fell back with a groan, making no effort to silence himself as he did with you. "Fuck, darling, you want me that much, huh?" You nodded eagerly, hips continuing their grind as you felt Lando's cock twitch beneath you. "Such a desperate little thing, aren't you?" he asked, latching his mouth on the flesh of your breast, sucking a harsh mark into the delicate skin. Low enough that your family wouldn't be able to see, you realized, but dark enough that you'd have a reminder of him on your skin for the next few days. The thought made you flush with heat. The sudden bite of Lando's teeth on your tit shocked you out of your haze. "I asked you a question, sweetheart."

You blinked down at him, bleary eyed, "W-what?"

His grin was wicked as he looked up at you, "Aw, poor baby's already going cock dumb and I haven't even fucked you yet." Your cheeks heated, and he didn't give you the time to gather yourself enough to formulate a comeback. "I asked if you were a desperate little thing for me? You desperate for me to fuck you stupid, darling?"

A whine escaped your lips, unbidden, at his words, and the look in his eyes told you he wouldn't let you deny its cause. "God, yes, Lan, yes I'm so desperate for you, want you to fuck me so bad, I - fuck -"

The sensation of his fingers sliding your thong to the side scrambled your brains again, scattering any thoughts you'd managed to gather. The rough, calloused pad of his thumb brushed over your clit, and your body rocked violently into his hold, chasing the pleasure. "Keep talking to me, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Tell me all the filthy things my pretty little girl wants me to do to her," he whispered into your ear, lips going back to attacking your neck.

"W-want - want you to - ah- fuck me with your fingers, think about those p-perfect hands all the - fuck - t-time, want your thick fingers in me before you fuck me, Lando," you moaned out, pushing through even though your whines threatened to interrupt you.

"Good girl," he purred, sliding his middle finger through your folds, moaning into your neck at the feel of you. "So fucking wet f'me, darling, fuck," his left hand tweaked your nipple, as his right slowly sank a finger into you. The sound he let out was almost animalistic as he felt you clenching around him, reacting to the stretch that even one of his fingers made you feel. "Holy shit, you're so tight, baby," he lifted his head to be level with yours, wanting to watch your face as he touched you. "How am I gonna fit my cock into this tight little pussy of yours if you can barely take one of my fingers?"

The only answer you could give him was a needy moan, one that had his left hand going back up, not to cover your mouth, but to rest on your throat. "Shh, remember, sweetheart, you don't want your parents to hear us, do you?"

You shook your head fiercely, but immediately lost your train of thought again as Lando began to pump his finger in and out of you, slowly to let you adjust. His thumb landed firmly back on your clit, and the way he curled his long, thick fingers had him reaching a spot inside of you you'd never managed to reach before.

"What else do you want me to do, darling? Don't tell me you've already gone brainless? I've barely gotten started with you."

"Want more, Lan, want you to stretch me with your fingers so you can fuck me, want to feel you - oh, god," you barely managed to catch yourself before you screamed at the feeling of Lando pushing another finger into you. Even though he was aided by your wetness, Lando slowed his pace as he let you adjust again, easing into you as gently as possible as he maintained his circles on your clit.

"Want to feel me what, sweetheart?" he encouraged, curling his fingers to that same spot, this time hitting it hit his index and middle fingers and making your brain short circuit.

"Want to - Lan - w-want, I, fuck," you babbled, head falling to the crook of Lando's shoulder as you struggled for words.

"Come on, now, darling, be a good girl and tell me what you want. You do want to be a good girl f'me, don't you?" He chuckled lightly at how quickly you nodded, head staying buried in his neck.

"I- I want t-to feel you in me, feel your cock in me, feel you stretch me out with it, f-feel you fill me up - stuff me full with you, with your cum, leave me dripping with it."

The hand on your throat tightened harshly, briefly, before both of Lando's hands were off you and working on his swim trunks. "Jesus christ, baby, you've got a dirty little mouth on you. Such a perfect fucking girl for me, darling, such a dirty little thing, god you're perfect," he mumbled the praises into your mouth, stopping every so often to kiss you tenderly, hungrily, as his hands made quick work of the tie on his swim trunks, pulling them down enough to let his cock spring free. Your eyes widened involuntarily at the sight of it slapping against his stomach, the hard muscles of his abs and the red, leaking tip of his cock mesmerizing you.

You lifted your hips, allowing Lando to yank you closer to him until you hovered just over his cock, both of your hands bracing against his shoulders as one of his went under your dress to guide his cock through your folds.

"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?"

"Yes, please Lan, please, ple-"

You had to cover your mouth with your own hand this time, the stretch of his cock making your eyes water, tears springing from them. Lando stared straight into your eyes as he sank you down onto his cock, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in a feeble attempt to silence himself. Both of his hands landed on your hips, gripping harshly as he held himself back from fucking up into you right away.

"God, baby you're so tight, you have such a perfect little cunt," he panted, eyes fixed on yours, not wanting to miss a single expression on your face. Finally, he bottomed out, the slow glide of his cock in you heavenly, fingers flexing against you as he forced himself to be patient.

A weak whimper left you despite the hand over your mouth as you slowly rose up, dropping harshly back onto Lando's cock and digging in your fingers at the sensation.

"Fuuuuuuuck," Lando ground out, hips bucking slightly up into you as you sank back down on him again.

It didn't take long for your legs to begin to shake, pace faltering as you grew tired. "Lando," you breathed out, head nestled in the crook of his neck again.

"Yes, darling?" His voice was thin, reedy, telling you he was just as affected as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

"Can't - can't," your own gasp interrupted you as the head of Lando's cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. "Too tired, need you to - god."

Lando chuckled, chest rumbling underneath your forehead, "You need me to do it for you, baby? You already too fucked out to move?"

"Please," you whined, unable to muster any embarrassment at the desperation in your voice. He knew he did this to you. Why bother trying to hide it?

Something in your neediness got to him, hands sliding up to your waist and squeezing as he gave himself a better hold on you. "That's a good girl. Don't worry, sweetheart, I've got you."

He lifted you off his cock, before slamming you back down onto him, hips fucking up into you harshly. The feeling of him manhandling you with ease was nearly enough to make you come on its own, but that combined with the way he kept hitting that spot inside of you, over, and over, and over again? You were so close you felt like you were going to explode.

And Lando knew it, too. Could tell from the way your hands scrabbled for purchase on his muscular shoulders, the way your head went limp on his shoulder as you gave him complete control over your body, from the way you clenched around him, and when he dropped one of his hands to graze a thumb over your clit as he fucked up into you, you were helpless to do anything but collapse into his embrace as you rode out your high.

Lando continued to hold you up by your waist, limbs sluggish and heavy, as he chased his own high, spurred on by your whimpers of overstimulation. But what finally pushed him over the edge was the sound of your voice, wrecked and fucked out, whispering weakly in his ear, "Please, Lando, please fill me up."

He came with a groan that he tried to bury in your neck, nipping lightly at the skin as he came down, chest heaving and moving you with it since you still hadn't managed to regain control of your own body just yet. The feeling of him painting your walls made you whimper, unintentionally clenching around him again, which elicited a deep groan from him.

"You keep squeezing me like that, darling, and you're gonna get me hard again."

You giggled, which earned you a playful swat on the ass from Lando, chuckling along with you as he stroked your cheek tenderly, admiring you in your post-orgasm haze.

"Lan-"

"Dinner is ready! Hurry up and get down here, we're starving!" The sound of your brother's voice jolted both of you out of your stupor, matching looks of panic on your faces.

Before you could say anything else, Lando whispers, "We're talking about this later tonight, sweetheart." Placing a kiss on your cheek, Lando lifts you off of him, hissing at the feeling, and setting you on your bed next to him before getting up and running across the hall to his room.

After you managed to muster the strength to move, you quickly fixed your dress, trying to make sure that your face and hair weren't dead giveaways for just having had the best sex of your life. You rushed downstairs, blaming your breathlessness on having run to dispel your mother's concern, and sat down quickly, trying to avoid any questions about what had taken you so long.

A few seconds later, Lando joined you, sitting across from you, eyes burning into you in a way that made you shift in your seat. That turned out to be a huge mistake, because just as your brother passed you the salad, Lando's cum leaked out of you as you realized belatedly that not only had you not cleaned up, but you hadn't even put your panties back on. You froze, quickly shifting back and squeezing your thighs together in an effort to stop him from seeping out of you, and miraculously, none of your family seemed to notice.

But the way your eyes widened told Lando exactly what had happened.

When your parents asked how the dinner was, you stammered out some poor excuse of a response, not really knowing how to speak to your family with Lando's cum dripping out of you.

Lando shot you a wicked grin, winking quickly enough that no one else saw it, and stared right into your eyes as he answered.

"Delicious."

[pomefioredove]

May I please have a sugar cookie, order number 15, with sprinkles & chocolate chips?

I'm super excited I came in time for this event, I adore your blog & am excited to see what comes of this.

(Pardon me as I cross my fingers in hoping to get one of my babygirls or just one of my faves)

—🐈‍⬛

you get one of MY babygirls. praise mana-sama for helping me through requests today

order #15, sugar with sprinkles and chocolate chips

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ unlike yourself

tropes: hurt/comfort, fake dating characters: rook additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, short and sweet, probably ooc

It's strange, you think.

Rook Hunt, the mysterious, distant vicewarden, loved you more in an evening than anyone else had in months.

Only an act. You had to remind yourself of that, every time he squeezed your hand or pulled you closer to him.

Every time he whispered something silly in your ear, every time he kissed the back of your hand. Only an act.

"I could write a thousand poems of you, mon amour, and never become bored of it,"

At some point, you had stopped looking at the others. You had forgotten they were there altogether.

It's only an act.

It felt like a fairytale, glittering, iridescent and silver, yet one that still ended at midnight in rags and pumpkin seeds.

You didn't want to think about that.

That by sunrise, the event would be over, and you would be back to your life. Back to your drafty dorm and secondhand clothes, back to your cold, lonely mornings. Back to yourself.

Back to the person you so hated.

Rook made you feel something unlike yourself. You were someone beautiful to him, someone interesting, someone loveable, someone worth teaching to dance, no matter how many times you stepped on his toes.

He only smiled.

You had asked him to be your date, to lie with you, to act with you, to prove to everyone that you were that someone, so unlike yourself, that you were beautiful and interesting and loveable, and worthy.

It had been your request. Just two hours, you said, and now you selfishly want more. You want years.

You want to make him feel the way he makes you.

"Your eyes are watering," Rook whispers, holding your face and drying your tears with the gentle touch of his gloved thumbs.

"Why are you sad, mon ange?"

You can't tell him. It's only an act. It's only an act. You want him to stay. He can't. He won't.

You can't ask him to stay.

"You are tired," he says, smiling sweetly, his cupid's bow curving. "Let's get you home, Trickster."

He's right, of course.

And you don't want to leave, you don't want to lose something on the velvet steps of the dorm, but you do, for him.

He walks you back to Ramshackle himself. He tucks you in bed and makes you something warm to eat since you both know the silver-plated hors d'oeuvres weren't enough.

You don't want to close your eyes. But he asks you to sleep, and you do, for him.

And so you wake up in your drafty dorm and your secondhand clothes in a bed that isn't really yours, feeling like yourself again.

But today, on this cold morning, he's sitting with you, and it isn't lonely.

"Oh, Trickster," he whispers, leaning over your, holding your face and gazing at you with something like softness.

"You did not have to ask me to stay. The answer is always yes."

And he kisses, again and again, your lips, your cheeks, your nose and head. He kisses that person, the one in rags, the messy one, the lonely one, you. He kisses you. He wants you.

And you think, perhaps this person, this yourself, isn't so bad.

Rook loves them, after all.

[1-800reki]

❝random Osamu D. headcanons! ❞

Summary: Silly little headcanons with Dazai :3

Pairings: Dazai x gn reader

a/n: I don't really know how to write Dazai correctly so apologies if he's mischaracterized 😔

• Before you started dating he most definitely tried to act mysterious to try and attract you.

• It was the trope of he fell first and he fell harder.

• If you don't respond in less than 10 seconds he'll spam you.

D: 'heyy prettyy'

D: 'why aren't you responding.'

D: 'HEY'

D: 'fly low pretty 🦍(I couldn't find the dove)'

Your Initial: 'I WAS SLEEPING'

• He would spam you with random videos. Mostly ones he would find funny but it's depressing.

• If you were shorter than him he would constantly make jokes about it. If you're taller he still makes jokes about it.

• Teases you constantly.

• He annoys you whenever you don't give him enough attention. You could be doing important work and he'll be at your side.

Dazai: "Are you done yet? This is so boring!"

Y/n: "I just started. Wait like 30 minutes."

• He would kind of stop his suicide attempts. He'd still attempt but keep it to a minimum to not worry you as much.

• Would ask you to do a double suicide and you change your answer every time just to tease him.

• In a modern au he would put in his bio 'captured by this creature' with your @.

• Whenever you both go on walks and encounter a dog he will stare down the dog before pulling you to continue walking.

• He loves you but if you want a dog he would convince you not to get one since he dislikes them.

• You would have to drive everywhere since he's a reckless driver. Do not trust him behind the wheel.

• You keep him in line. Kunikida has your number on speed dial just in case Dazai slacks off.

• You are Kunikida's favorite person because you keep Dazai in check.

• Because of how people think of Dazai, they would expect him to be overprotective and possessive. But he's COMPLETELY THE OPPOSITE. He doesn't care if you stay out at night or who you're around, because he knows you're loyal . But if shit goes down expect him to be there in a second.

• Dazai is one sarcastic man. Like if you see him going to the bathroom and you ask "are you going to the bathroom?" he'll say "no, I'm going to the shed to bury Chuuya. YES IM GOING TO THE BATHROOM."

• If you were sad he'd probably say something stupid like "turn that frown upside down bbg"

• Dazai sings and hums when he's not paying attention , and you've definitely seen it a couple of times.

• At first you two were no labels but now he's super proud to be with you.

• If you had any insecurities he would always say he found you to be breathtaking no matter what.

• To be fair, he probably doesn't find PDA as an issue. If you intertwined your hand with his, he wouldn't find it as a big deal. He doesn't mind kisses in public either. (RAHHHHJHH)

• His favorite spots to kiss you would be the forehead, lips and your hands.

• If he were to take you on a date it would either be a restaurant or a at home movie night.

• He gossips with you. You have any sort of drama from work or friends? He's sitting with you listening to everything. Especially on spa days you insist you both have.

Y/n: "Then she found out her husband was sleeping with her co worker."

Dazai: "I knew something was up."

[comicaurora]

What are your thoughts on guardians vol.3? (If you have watched it) I went into it, expecting it went to the garbage like the rest of the mcu, but I was pleasantly surprised by its creativity, trope subversion, and how it wrapped up the previously unresolved arks of its characters.

That's what I've heard!

The thing is, Guardians 3 could be the most transcendent work of cinema ever made, and I'd probably still feel little to no motivation to watch it at this point. It's not Guardians's fault - it's just suffering from the same problem that superhero comics have been struggling with for decades: no matter how good an individual arc or run is, absolutely nothing good lasts or matters in the long term, and the stories are shaped in such a way that "the long term" is the only thing anyone gets to build towards.

Whenever I complain about the MCU I get a handful of people loudly complaining about my complaining, with the general thesis that if I don't like it I shouldn't watch it or talk about it - if I'm not having fun, just stop engaging with it. And the thing is, I have. I am intellectually interested in why this massive franchise is fumbling the bag so hard, which is why I still check in on it sometimes, but I've long since stopped turning to the MCU for uncritical entertainment. And even the good movies or shows with a lot of interesting ideas - good character arcs, fun concepts, interesting planting for future payoff - don't draw me in anymore, because they're hooked into a massive moneymaking machine that will scrap and squander anything if they think it'll make them more in the quarter. It doesn't matter how good the writing is, because the writers are not allowed to tell a complete, finished story, and they have no control over what happens to their characters outside of their own script.

Captain America's arc was set up from literally minute one to answer one burning question at the core of his character: does a world without a war still need Captain America? After that incredibly basic tee-up at the end of First Avenger, half a dozen movies failed to come up with a reason to say "yes," and now Steve is retired for good after getting fumbled through four different storylines that couldn't even pretend that they needed him (the unused Chekhov's Phone from the end of Civil War still haunts me). The foundational arc of his entire character never happened because nobody bothered to keep track of it past a single movie.

Taika did something interesting with Thor in Ragnarok - take away Mjolnir, force him to recognize what it means to be the god of thunder, give him a very Odin-y missing eye - and the very next movie undid all of it. Just kidding, never mind, here's an eye and a new weapon and also his old weapon again, and in one more movie we're even gonna give him his hair back, probably as an apology for all the completely unironic fatphobia we're gonna slather him in for two and a half hours. I'm not even surprised Love And Thunder was such an overblown mess that barely took itself seriously - why would Taika bother trying to give Thor another arc when the powers that be will just roll it back in six months anyway?

I hear Rocket Raccoon has a fantastic arc in this movie. That's great, and demonstrates that he's being written by a writer that deeply cares about him. But he's part of the MCU, and the MCU doesn't let anything end, so if current patterns hold, Rocket is going to continue to serve as quippy plushie-bait for the next dozen movies and none of that depth is going to come through in the long term. Hell, since they're making Kang noises for the Next Big Threat and Kang's entire gimmick is rewriting timelines, literally none of this is guaranteed to matter. By next year, it might not have even happened anymore.

The MCU has successfully shaped itself into a paradigm where the bright spots of good writing are overridden and lost as soon as the writers room turns over, and that makes it really hard for me to muster up the enthusiasm to watch even a really good movie that's locked into the exact same grist mill as everything else. I'm glad people liked it, I hope it gets to stay good this time - I just have no desire to watch it.

[mytalemyworld]

I want this jealousy trope to end asap. Because it's neither romantic nor funny and I really didn't like how Cihan was written. It's horrible. Horrible.

Uğur doesn't make any sense which makes it hard what to think about him. His motives are unclear, as soon as he saw Alya, he started flirting with her which is weird, because he doesn't know her enough to like her. So, the writer wants us to not get angry at Cihan because Uğur is so weird however it doesn't matter what his motives are, the problem is how Cihan behaves towards Alya because of this matter and it needs to stop. Really. I am really so done with this shit. I couldn't even enjoy most of Cihan & Alya scenes, it left a bad taste in my mouth.

And after having watched the most tasteless scenes, they gave this:

Alya: Leave it, I'll do it. Cihan: You be careful. I'll take care of it, your hand might get cut. Alya: Your hand might get cut too, please. Cihan: Alya! For God's sake, let my hand get cut, so what? You're the doctor, you need your hand, but I don't.

It's not only because she's a doctor…and she noticed it too.

and this:

I thought he was in love with her, but no, he's madly in love with her. Without a doubt. He teared up just because of the thought that they might divorce. He can not bear to lose her and this is not a joke, not an exaggeration. He simply can not.

and this:

The whole trial scene was full of angst -even for someone like me who love angst, this show can make me rank all of my angsty ships again- and it's just…well I don't know what to say. This is probably the longest speech he has ever made and she was shocked to the core. He is in love, yes, but he can not even hold himself anymore, he is that desperate. I know we already watched he made a confession in the fragman "I…love her.", but before that part, he explained what he really thought about Alya, owned his mistakes, accepted he hurt her unintentionally and then he just said he loved her looking her in the eyes…it was so daring. He could deny and say he said it because this was the only way to convince the judge that he really wanted to continue this marriage…however they both felt that it was real, she got shocked, he looked thoughtful but not regretful…because his heart knows the answer now.

I mean...this show has a very good potential but I think I can not fully enjoy it as long as he is written like that.

[rosyandraw]

Hey Holly, going anon because I’m scared this is a weird ask…

Since you’re so good at writing angst I was wondering if you’ve ever considered writing bdsm gone wrong in any of your stories? Like both characters not really knowing what they’re doing and someone ends up hurt mentally or even physically. Lots of overthinking, misunderstandings, etc. Or maybe you hate that and it’s just too much? Feel free to say if so.

I really do love observant Damen so maybe it’s hard to make it work with Damen/Laurent but I find myself hunting for this trope a lot. Ik there’s not really any bdsm in canon but I think there’s a lot of moments in the trilogy where we could sense Laurent had certain thoughts or fears about sex and didn’t say anything (maybe that’s just my interpretation). Also maybe I relate to wanting to please someone at my own detriment so I wanna read about my fav characters doing it and cry.

I like the angst that it brings and watching it all get pulled slowly back together. I think it just makes the happy ending that much better. And there does HAVE to be a happy ending lol.

I hope this ask makes sense 😅 I guess I’m really just wondering if you like that trope (is that the word for it?) If you’ve ever held yourself back from writing it because you didn’t know how it would be received?

I’m sorry this ask is so long and random lol.

Hey my love, don't apologise, I love this kind of ask, don't be scared, I'm so balls out you can literally ask me anything, I promise my head and real life is weirder haha. There's no such thing as too much here!

And I could talk about BDSM all day long. Especially with Damen/Laurent.

To answer your question bluntly: yes.

Yes, I have considered it. Like a hundred times. BDSM takes place in the mind first and foremost, the sex is a small part of it and for a lot of people not a part of it at all. So BDSM "going wrong" -or safewording out, pushing too far, it not hitting for one or both/all- is kind of inevitable at some point, especially if those involved are misinformed or new to the scene or aren't communicating properly. Plus there are different issues that come with different dynamics. Is it strictly a BDSM relationship? Do they play with other people? Do they have romantic partners? Is it a 24/7 dynamic? If it's monogamous and committed how do they work it into their real life (esp if set in canon)

So yes, big fat yes I love this idea.

I love observant Damen too but I would only write something this intensive for Damen/Laurent so unfortunately if you're thinking of a different pairing I probably won't be writing that lmao

I do think it could work with Damen/Laurent though tbf, i'm thinking about Damen in the baths in book 1 where Laurent manipulates him and he doesn't recognise Laurent isn't flirting (because Laurent did want Damen to think it was sexy but he was also not into it, you know?) That Damen could make some mistakes.

So could a Damen who trusts Laurent to be honest with him... only to be gutted when Laurent wasn't and ended up getting hurt because of it.... you know?

And tbh no matter how observant or in-tune with someone you are shit happens. You can get carried away, Dom-space isn't talked about nearly enough tbh. There's so much I want to write about it, like, weaving in and bastardising my own experiences, to give it a sprinkle of reality haha

But yes I agree about Laurent, pretty sure I wrote a whole lengthy canon-sub-Laurent-meta on here some time ago lmao so I definitely read him that way too and definitely have 10000 thoughts on what Laurent is thinking. I'm not projecting... lmao

But yes, I am a HEA girly, and yes, this does make a lot of sense and it's crazy because I've been thinking about it a lot.

I have NO idea how it would be received, but then I thought ATKH would be badly received and people have been very kind, so I am a terrible judge and I don't let perception stop me from writing what I want to write.

My only thing I keep getting stuck on is canon or modern?

Like, terminology/apparatus/acts and stuff would be so much better in a modern verse but there is something so enticing from a character study POV about canon verse haha

Do you have a preference?

Also thank you for thinking I write angst well, I appreciate it 💕💕

[infiniteeight8]

https://www.tumblr.com/infiniteeight8/779141913875005440/stephen-finding-out-about-magic-in-the-unhinged?source=share Okay I found this outcome so interesting. This alternative universe and what Tony did reminds me of the movie The Time Machine. I don't know if you have watched it but basically the protagonist can't change a major event not matter how many times he tries. And I want to know your input on this; the idea that a major event is unchangeable, it could vary but it will always happen. In this case Stephen's accident, not necessarily a car accident happening or he injuring his hands but one accident and a life changing injury happening. Point aside, I feel TAO's plan wasn't to convince Stephen in that right moment and bring him with her but made herself/the mystic arts known? More like implanting a seed on Stephen's mind.

I have not seen The Time Machine (is it based on the novel by H.G. Wells?), but I have all kinds of thoughts about time travel and what that means for destiny / fate and free will. I am at risk of going off on a tangent, here. LOL. But I will resist!

Uh, fair warning that some of my phrasing below gets a little intense. It is not aimed at you! This is super interesting question and I had fun answering it. Thank you for sending it!

I don't know if you've watched Marvel's What If...?, but in the first season they actually reference the concept you're talking about--in that series, instead of Stephen losing his hands, Christine dies in the car accident and that's what triggers his interest in the mystic arts. He tries over and over again to save her, but her death is a "fixed point in time". It's an interesting concept!

It's also one I absolutely hate with a burning passion. Not in the sense of, "Oh, I hate stories that use this trope for X and Y reasons," though. I actually have quite enjoyed some very interesting stories that play with the idea that the way time works means that it's not possible to change the future. I think that 12 Monkeys (1995 movie starring Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt) did a particularly interesting treatment of it.

No, my hatred for the idea is purely due to personal philosophy and comes from the fact that "fixed points in time" inherently and unavoidably means that free will isn't real. That our choices don't matter because things are always going to go down a particular path. I reject that notion. It is fundamentally incompatible with what I value about life.

For that reason, I am not interesting in writing a story which features fixed points in time. Nothing is unavoidable. Extremely fucking difficult to avoid, yes. Unavoidable, no. I won't say I'll never write one, because things happen, but I absolutely do not want to.

This is a bit of a spoiler for future Unhinged Time Travelling Tony stories (assuming anyone prompts more of it), but here we go: This Stephen is never going to become a sorcerer. Tony went back in time to preserve Stephen's life as a surgeon, and he succeeded. That's not going to change. (I am undecided on Tony's future as Iron Man.)

As for why TAO showed up... Well, it was probably something of a Hail Mary. She didn't know how firmly Stephen would reject the Mystic Arts, and she figured she had to try. She was a little surprised just how intense his opposition was, but we can't really blame her--she didn't actually know him before his accident, in either timeline.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @emryses! emryses has 15 fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@lady-lostmind recommends the following works by @emryses:

MEMORIA (series)

TIMESTAMP: April 10, 1989

deep in, under my skin

"I had the pleasure of working with them in the Steddie Big Bang 23' and absolutely fell in love with the fic they were writing for it. I was hooked from the little snippet I read during claims and wasn't disappointed in the slightest when I got to read the rest, and the same goes for all their other work I've read." -- @lady-lostmind

Below the cut, @emryses answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I love smacking the Ken dolls together and making them kiss. But for real, I had been a (very) casual fan of Stranger Things since around Season 2, but there was something so infinitely intriguing about Steve and Eddie that I couldn’t help but be drawn to them from the second S4 part 1 aired. Then the BTS pictures came out of what would eventually be the “Don’t’cha big boy?” scene and it was sort of just a slow descent into a sprint to madness from there. I love that surface level, these two don’t look like they should work but somehow they just do. So I love making them fall in love again and again. Each fic I write is a pocket universe where these boys eventually look at each other and say, “Yes, I choose you” and I think that’s beautiful.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Mutual Pining 100%. I love when a fic makes you ache before they get to the juicy romance of it all. Bonus points if they’re fucking the entire time they’re pining.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I’ve noticed over time that most of my fics involve a miscommunication of some sort. I just love putting these boys in Situations—anything that makes them a little bit messy. I love a good fight and a resolution: Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Situationship to Lovers, I Gave You A Hand Job Once and Now We’re Lovers (But We Don’t Know it Yet). They are Idiot4Idiot, always.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

One that I return to quite often is the other hand knocking by greatunironic. I don’t often read Historical AUs, but if I could recommend one I would recommend this one. There is a monologue Eddie says in the final chapters that has stuck with me. If I ever could do a podfic, I think it would be this one.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I would love to write a true AU one day. I tend to stick in my safe zone of Canon or Canon Divergence, I think I might find the limitations it has to be comforting. Alternate Universe fics (true ones like Modern AU, or Historical AUs, etc.) feel so scary and daunting to me, no matter how much I love them.

What is your writing process like?

Writing is a true hobby for me, I have to admit I don’t feel like I have a real “process” and I recognize I probably make it harder for myself than I probably have to. I sort of throw words in a doc until something sticks, fics are usually thought of with a general concept or sometimes even a specific scene that comes to me and then I build out the fic from there. Sometimes it happens fast but most of the time it happens fairly slow. I’ll read, and reread, and edit and add more until it’s done. There’s a madness about it I can’t quite explain, I don’t really know how I get anything posted at the end of the day.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I enjoy putting through lines in most of my fics, something I consider to be a Universal Truth across all my Steves and Eddies, etc. Like I said before, I consider them all to be pocket universes, and they’re mostly lighthearted, silly things. Like that Steve enjoys WHAM! and Eddie hates that he enjoys WHAM!, or that Steve had a totally unrequited crush on Jonathan Byers (whether he knows it or not). They’re like little easter eggs, something I don’t think anyone but myself has really noticed, but they make me happy. Also, I've never once written something chronologically: I hop around to different points and different scenes the whole time. Sometimes I’ll have the end of the fic written before even the middle of it exists.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

What typically happens is I have every intention of finishing the fic and then starting to post it, but I will get 80-90% done writing it and end up posting the first chapter as motivation to get to the end. I do, however, prefer to wait until I’m done writing everything before starting to post when I can (especially because of the aforementioned chaotic writing & non chronological habits.)

Which fic are you most proud of?

It would feel wrong if I didn’t mention you looking at me, looking at you (affectionately referred to as YLAM.) It was my first multichapter for Steddie, and I posted it in the height of Steddie Summer ‘22, essentially in real time of finishing chapters. Though I might not think it’s the best of the best of my writing, I also don’t think it’s bad (actually reread bits of it a few weeks ago and was pleasantly surprised about how much I enjoyed it lol). It holds a very, very special place in my Steddie heart; I made so many new fandom friends (and a mini YLAM army, iykyk) while writing this fic.

How did you get the idea for MEMORIA?

Memoria was first thought of back in January 2023. I had the thought of writing an Eddie-centric fic based around the idea that he was taken into Witness Protection after the events of S4. I’m a lover of angst, and it felt like a delicious area to dive into. I also wanted to write an aged up Steddie, since at that point I had been writing them mostly at their canon ages, MEMORIA allowed me to do a bit of a time jump. Funnily enough, I originally thought it would be an Eddie POV thing, but Steve apparently had a lot to say.

When writing MEMORIA, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to be so damn long, I truly thought it was going to be around 30k—and then I had written 30k and the fuckers hadn’t even kissed yet. It also originally in my mind was going to be a much darker sort of fic—I was toying around with going deeper with substance abuse for Eddie, something that is lightly hinted at in the Eddie companion fic, strange what desire will make foolish people do. In the end I was shocked about how much lighter the whole thing felt.

What inspired TIMESTAMP: April 10, 1989?

TIMESTAMP was written for @steddiemicrofic’s 1 year of Steddie Microfic challenge to write something using 1,111 words. I took it very seriously and said to myself, what is 1,111 days from March 27, 1986? (The answer may shock you.)

What was your favorite part to write from TIMESTAMP: April 10, 1989?

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a concise writer, so writing TIMESTAMP was a challenge to fit within the steddiemicrofic word count. But when you do widdle it down, or up, to that word count it is immensely satisfying to know you told a whole story within a limited amount of words.

How do/did you feel writing deep in, under my skin?

I loved it! For someone who loves Eddie as much as I do, I tend to write more Steve POV than Eddie POV, deep in was an opportunity to add to the small pile of Eddie POVs I have. Eddie has always felt more funny and playful to me, even if he’s not having a super fun and playful time.

What was the most difficult part of writing deep in, under my skin?

Of all the fics highlighted here I remember deep in actually being the most straightforward! I’m pretty sure I wrote it to procrastinate working on Memoria. The only difficult part was I didn’t want it to be too similar to my fic YLAM which has sort of a similar premise: Steddie situationship/friends with benefits. I wanted to explore the hooking up to lovers aspect of Steddie again, but didn’t necessarily want to rehash the same thing I’ve already done.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This was by far the hardest question. I think this bit from strange what desire is my favourite of what I’ve written recently. It’s such a through line of every fic I write, I think: Steve paints them a picture, he writes them a song, and Eddie is interwoven into every line, every brushstroke of it. He talks of a future, he talks about love. He talks about living life, about taking Eddie’s hand and showing him how to live it, too. What if we make it? What if?

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have been dipping my toes in and out of a Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU for close to a year now. It’s slow going, I haven’t even posted the main fic that started the whole idea yet, but I do have two prequel-style fics set in the same universe: LOVE BITES and FOOL FOR LOVE. If you are interested, I would love if you checked them out. (It includes Slayer!Nancy, Werewolf!Jonathan, Witch!Robin, Vampire!Eddie, and Just a Guy!Steve Harrington.)

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Thank you so much to my nominator! This was such an unexpected and pleasant surprise. It’s such a kind way to let a writer know you’re thinking of the things they’ve written. It made me feel very special and very loved, so thank you, sincerely. If you liked Memoria, please go give some love to my Steddie Bang Artist, @lady-lostmind. She made a beautiful artwork of the moment Steve sees Eddie again, and truly pulled the image of an older Eddie out of my mind and put it into a beautiful work.  Finally, if you go to my blog and see a whole bunch of Dead Boy Detectives stuff, don’t worry lol. I still love Steddie so much and have so much I want to write for them. The Dead Boys just gone and got me.

Thank you to our author, @emryses, and our nominator, @lady-lostmind! See more of emryses' works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[thatoneautisticshark]

Okay so less of an idea being spat out and more of a question! (EDIT: I lied and got to blabbering there are indeed ideas here lmfaooooooo)

What other things interest you? Like tropes, au's, stuff like that!!

Personally I love ancient Greek mythology styled stuff (peep a little idea ramble I posted about Gorgon/Medusa Simon), Medeival shit with knights and dragons and other creatures is epic, fantasy in general, Monster/Hybrid au, Mafia au, or more civilian based ones where 141 is retired or something!

Like a retired Simon, moves to a small town, works as a mechanic and a million other odd jobs so no one knows whats his real job honestly. He's an enigma, and as helpful as he is he's still intimidating and scary without trying. Cue civilian Soap! Maybe he never went to the military, maybe he retired way earlier bc of his knee! They get to meet for the first time in that lil town!

Or!!! Maybe Simon and Soap's first time meeting. Soap is a recruit, Ghost would probably be a Sargeant at thag point in time. Recruits are rowdy. Military men in general, no matter the rank. They've gotta have fun somehow, right? So what if they're disguising it as training when really it's just a giant party/fight night. Ghost didn't want to be there really but somehow he ended up there, and he sees Soap in the ring with another soldier. Soap is a beast, there's no other way to put it! Grinning like a maniac, adrenaline pumping, having the time of his life fighting and wrestling! So what if Ghost thinks he's crazy and has a stupid haircut and pretty eyes- surely Ghost doesn't get drawn in until eventually Ghost finds himself standing in that ring. He has no.idea how he got there, really, but he is! Soap is staring up at him, not one to back down from a challenge. And they get to fight and wrestle! The fight is charged, of course it is, Soap's secretly had his eye on this giant, masked recluse for ages. Ghost wasn't expecting Soap to be this good, or maybe he's subconsciously holding back, who knows! But he does know that he ends up pinning Soap, bc Ghost is the best there is. Soap on his stomach, Ghost pinning one arm behind his back while his other hand is shoving Soap to the ground at his shoulders. They're both sweaty and panting and banged up, the fight lasted longer than Ghost would have normally. But then Soap turns his head so his cheek is against the mat, and he looks back at Ghost with this menacing little twinkle in his eye and fucking grins and maybe shifts back ever so slightly so his ass is pressing against Ghost's crotch. So what of Ghost left readjusting his pants, you didn't see shit.

AAAAUUUUUUUUUUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I went of the rails! But yes please do tell me what tropes and such are your vibe!!!!!!

So it took me a minute to debate how to answer this, Because including a writen out for both really amazing ideas and answers to your questions would be a little crazy. So I'll answer your questions and when I write the ideas out I'll tag you!

So to answer your questions before I go to bed for the night.

I love tropes of idiots in love like oblivious, and or just giggly loving idiots. Also you may have noticed my love for the trope of slightly accidental injuries during sex, particularly when someone's head falls back and hits the wall.

I adore poly, and or unusual relationship dynamics. Giving characters a touch of the tism. I also love the, falling asleep on someone/ nightmare and cuddles. Ohh also warming up cuddles/sharing heat.

As for au's retirement is sweet as. Civilian is cool and funky. I loveeee hybrid au's even if they can be a little difficult to write. A/B/O I love but don't write often. Also technically not an AU but 09 ghoap.

I also love the happy ending au. I don't write ones like fantasy or mediaeval too often, mainly because I always get distracted world building... Heh.

Met at different time au's are neat as well, and I barely write them, but crossover au's I have an idea that's been in my head for years of basically 141 gets reborn onto mha, Ghost -izuku, soap-katsuki roach-hitoshi and so forth because it would be funny. But I could never be fucked ta write it.

:3! Gotta go to sleep, but I'll get writing once I wake up! Feel free to send more asks/ questions!

[lolotr]

fanfic author 20 questions!

I am late to the party, but i was tagged by @shadowquill17, thanks my love <3 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

51

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

162,166 total words! Not too shabby

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I've written for a bunch of fandoms, but these days it's mostly Dead Boy Detectives. in theory i have other fandoms, but none that i'm so feral for at the moment

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all of them are DBD which is kind of astonishing to me, this fandom never ceases to amaze 1. after the insects have laid their claim 2. like breathing 3. terms of endearment 4. a certain step towards falling in love 5. you can throw a party full of everyone you know

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes, every single one, no matter how old the fic is! i might be a little slow or miss one every so often, but i really try hard to respond to every one i get. comments mean the absolute world to me, so i want to thank everyone who takes time out of their day to tell me they enjoyed my work <3 <3 i also LOVE when fanfic writers respond to me, so i assume other people do, too

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i am an angst with a happy ending sort of bitch, but probably one of the fics i wrote during the Nothing Much To Do Radio Silence (TM) when we were all losing our minds with no updates. haven't read those in forever, so maybe Something to Do, Someone to Blame? or maybe it isn't cinema that i wrote for Nothing Like the Sun? or maybe Tropes for Keleidotrope?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

gosh, so many. again, i write mostly happy ending stuff, so it's hard to pick just one. maybe my fourth favorite public building to visit, if i had to pick one that hasn't been mentioned already. though after the insects have laid their claim has a VERY happy and corny ending that i will forever be proud of haha

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, thank goodness

9. Do you write smut?

yeah! i'm new to it, but it's a lot of fun

10. Do you write crossovers?

not usually, but i'll stick characters from one universe into a similar universe because something resonates (like Heartstopper Squared or The Quest of the Maddening Mace), but i don't usually write characters meeting or anything like that.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of! *fingers crossed*

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but if anyone wants to do so, just make sure to tag me in it and go right ahead!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yeah! i have stuff in progress (that we haven't worked on in a while sorry @courfaeriedust) but i've also definitely written collabs that i've published, i think?

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Charles and Edwin from Dead Boy Detectives have such a special place in my heart, and I really hope this hyperfixation doesn't go anywhere, but in terms of pure longevity? Merlin and Arthur from BBC Merlin. I've been reading that shit for a decade. Special shoutout to Alex and Henry from Red, White, and Royal Blue, and Drew and Harrison from Keleidotrope, because I'm still insane about you all too, don't worry.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

THAT IS QUITTER TALK AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT. but to give a kind of cutesie answer, i'm not sure i'll ever be done with the libraryverse. there's so much story there, and i keep having ideas for it, so maybe i'll be able to keep playing in it forever. that would be kind of nice.

16. What are your writing strengths?

why are you making me say nice things about myself. why. overall, i think i'm good at dialogue. i actually wrote a whole manuscript in instant messages because i love writing dialogue so much. i'm pretty good at getting into characters' voices, whether they're my own or someone else's, and i find a lot of joy in writing everything from banter to flirting to meaningful conversations (but some of those are easier than others lol)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action, descriptions, things that aren't dialogue. i also tend to keep my writing kind of short, so i don't always allow for moments to breathe the way they should.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

woooooof the only other language i speak is hebrew (and not amazingly well) so probably not. if i ever got good enough at another language, maybe? but english is my first and by far my strongest language, so I don't think i'd ever be able to express myself well

19. First fandom you wrote for?

as far as i remember, Lord of the Rings. (no you will never find it.)

20. Favorite fics you’ve written?

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE, THEY'RE ALL MY CHILDREN. how about this, you tell ME what your fave stories of mine are, because im tired of linking things. and because i thrive on praise lol

i am too lazy to tag people specifically, so anyone who writes fic is welcome to answer!

[a-student-out-of-time]

Reading your thoughts on the new drdt episode, I agree a lot on what you felt negatively about this episode. I've been frustrated for a while because it feels like the time spent on Levi's secret was dragged out, then Hu chimes in with her secret, then Teruko who is probably lying, and they're only just now talking about the murder method. One thing I want to get off my chest though: I think I may be in the minority in that I actually dislike the reveal with Levi's implied ASPD. For me, it just feels very jarring. He still killed 4 people, and while we don't know the entire context it just feels weird to me that this aspect of his character is being so positively received? Maybe I'm being too sensitive or interpreting in bad faith but I feel like Levi having implied ASPD and then having it revealed he killed 4 people is just iffy, especially since he mentioned 2 of those people he just decided to kill a few days after the first.

// I completely understand that, but this is also something I'm willing to go to bat for.

//I dunno if you were around for this, but last year, when it was revealed that Nico was nonbinary and then they tried to kill Ace, there were a LOT of people who were worried that DT was resorting to queerphobic tropes, or they themselves had some very nasty interpretations of them as a character.

//And none of that was true. Nico is not a crazy serial murderer whose villainy is exacerbated by being nonbinary, it was just something that happened and next episode is going to explain why it happened. Nothing about the episodes since have implied that attempted murder had anything to do with what people were worried about, and when it's brought up, it's still treated as a serious problem.

//I also wouldn't say Levi having ASPD was positively received. Everyone else seemed pretty disturbed and put off by both the murders and him admitting he doesn't really understand compassion or empathy. I'm not saying I'm happy about it either.

//But I think it's interesting to have a character like him in all this. This chapter's theme is about the complexities behind what it means to be a good person. Having someone who has done wrong, and who is physiologically incapable of remorse, but still has a desire to do good even if he has no emotional investment in doing so? That's a very different take on the idea that you don't see very often.

//I'm also just relieved that Levi isn't some crazy volatile murder machine like so many thought he was. The most common depictions of people with ASPD tend to paint them as inherently violent or manipulative, when plenty can live totally normal lives and have relationships with others.

//It's jarring, yes, but I believe that's the point. You have David, an obvious manipulator who claims to have good intentions but is willing to sacrifice others' lives to achieve them; and you have Levi, a moral sociopath who wants to help and protect others because it benefits him, but he almost seems apologetic about his inability to care about others.

//I feel the point of this chapter is that being a "good person" is not as simple as we believe, and by revealing someone with ASPD- one of the most maligned and villainized conditions out there- is actually on the up and up? It's a pretty challenging take, because I believe we're meant to consider it all as well.

//Bottom line, there's no easy answers in this situation and that's really the goal. Should we change our opinions about Levi because he's admitted he doesn't experience compassion for others? Or does it matter since he's made it clear he has no reason to harm anyone here?

//I still have my issues with this chapter so far, and I do understand your concerns, but all this why I think it's at least an interesting direction with this chapter's themes.

[garmonboziasworld]

Danni Winchester has left her brothers in 2006 after the death of their father, John Winchester. The siblings haven't spoken in years but when the Darkness is released, Danni reunites with her brothers. If she had known what turn her life would take from that moment on, maybe she wouldn't have come back at all. But you can't run from destiny, can you? A Supernatural Lucifer x OC Corruption Arc/Soulmate Trope

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Chapter 22: You should have listened when I told you

~ Late April 2018 ~

Weeks had passed and Lucifer hadn't come back yet. Sam and Dean didn't really seem to mind. In fact, they seemed to be rather glad about him not being around anymore. But Danni?

As she was lying on her bed, resting against the headboard, she realised once more that she was actually missing the archangel. It was odd. And Danni felt bad. Almost guilty. Shameful. But she grew fond of him somehow. Yes, he was exhausting most of the time but if he wanted to, he could be likeable and funny. But all things considered, he was still the devil. And Danni knew she wasn't supposed to like him. But then again, she remembered his words.

Well maybe because you trusted me? Because you forgot about everything for just one second? Because you can see behind all this? These lies? Just … listen to yourself. Not Castiel, not your brothers, just yourself. Look inside yourself and ask yourself how you see me. What you think of me. And you know what? The answer may surprise you.

She closed her eyes and hit her head back against the headboard several times.

“Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she grumbled.

“Mortification of the flesh? Really?”

Startled, Danni opened her eyes again. And there he was. Standing in her room.

“Lucifer!” She wanted to jump off the bed and rush over to him and hug him, but she suppressed the odd urge to do so. “You're back!”

“I am, sweetheart. Because someone kept thinking about me. Any ideas who that might have been?”

“Probably Sam,” she said, trying to hide her embarrassment. “He has this weird, unnatural obsession when it comes to you.”

“He does, right? But as it turned out, he's not the only Winchester who does. And guess what, it's not Dean.”

“Where have you been?” She asked without falling for his little game he tried to play.

“Ah, here and there, nothing special,” he answered and waved off. He walked over to her and sat down at the edge of her bed. “So you missed me, huh?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Uh, you do remember that I'm an archangel? And that I can hear such thoughts about me? So I heard yours as well?”

“I was just …” But Danni didn't know how to finish that sentence, so she stayed silent.

“Just thinking about how likeable and funny I actually am, I know. Charming, good looking.”

“I never thought that.”

“Really? I could swear I heard that as well.”

“No.”

“Oh come on, Danni, this is tenacious.” Lucifer leaned forward and supported himself on his arm he propped next to Danni's stretched out legs. “This back and forth between us used to be so much smoother, remember? Back in the library? When I possessed Cas? That was our A-game.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asked, frowning.

“So you don't remember. Alright, unfortunate. Thanks Dad. But okay, doesn't matter. We can jog that memory.”

“Lucifer …” Danni sighed. “Look, I don't understand a word you're saying.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately.”

“But it's good that you're back. We haven't found Gabriel and, well …” Danni sighed, realising how ungrateful that just sounded. Like they were just taking advantage of him. Using him to open the rift again. As if that was his only purpose. So she shook her head. “Nevermind.”

“Hey, it's okay,” he said. “You need me. Fact. So just say it.”

“I didn't want to sound selfish.”

“If it's you saying that you need me, I don't mind. Quite the opposite.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Can't help it that you're my favourite Winchester,” he said with a wink.

“Not sure if that's a good thing.”

“Of course it is. It means that you get my unshared attention.”

“Yeah, I bet Sam would say otherwise. He was your favourite Winchester for years and that didn't do him any good.”

“Hey, he turned out fine, didn't he?”

“Depends, I guess.”

“Don't worry, I'll be nicer to you.”

“So you're staying?” She asked, trying to change the subject. “And helping us with Michael?”

“I’m your only hope, aren't I? Since Gabriel just left?”

“That doesn't answer my question, Lucifer.”

“Okay, counter-question. Do you want me to stay?”

Danni scoffed and shook her head. “Wow. You're impossible. Can't even answer my question.”

“And you don't want to answer mine.”

“Maybe because that's not the point here? Doesn't matter if I want you to stay, I want you to help. Because we need your help, okay? We need you.”

“See? Admitting that you need me wasn't so hard, was it?”

Danni looked at his smug smile and took a deep breath. “Will you help us now or not?”

“Maybe? If you, let's say, ask me very nicely and kindly?”

“You want me to beg?”

Lucifer sheepishly shrugged and nodded. But Danni just shook her head in return.

“Hell no. Screw you.”

“Right now?”

“Wha- no!”

“Okay … Later then?”

“How about never?”

“Oh, that was an insult and not an offer?”

“Well what do you think?”

“What I think or what I want? Cause it’s not the same.”

Danni ignored her quickly beating heart and the sensation running over her skin. Or his piercing gaze, delivered by these beautiful eyes. Did he even know how uniquely attractive his vessel was? Did he even care? Probably not. And neither should she. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Oh, you want to play truth or dare? Go ahead, sweetheart.”

Ignoring his remark, she continued. “Why didn’t you choose when Asmodeus wanted you to?”

“Because I didn’t want to play his game. Follow his rules. You don’t pull off shit like that with me. I’m Lucifer, baby, I’m the one who’s playing the games.”

“And that one was rather dangerous. What if Gabriel hadn’t recovered? Getting his full strength back? That’s what saved all of us. I mean … I get why you didn’t want him to die, and I get why you didn’t want him to go back into Asmodeus’ torture chamber. But I don’t get why you cared about me. Why you didn’t sacrifice me for your brother. The human. You heard what he wanted to do to me, you should have let him kill me. I don’t get why you didn’t choose your brother over me. I don’t get why you spared me. I understand that you saved me from Asmodeus the first time, you did it because you thought that you owe me after what happened in that bar. But I don’t get it this time.”

Lucifer eyed her quietly. He wished he could tell her the truth, about not sacrificing his love, his soulmate. But he couldn’t.

“Don’t overinterpret it,” he said casually. “As I said, I just did it to show Asmodeus I’m still standing above him.”

Danni had already opened her mouth to talk back, but Lucifer was quicker. “Alright, my turn. I pick dare.”

“Lucifer, that's not how-”

But the rest of the sentence got stuck in her throat as she felt his hand on her cheek. His cold touch on her skin felt soothing. And it felt oddly familiar. He moved closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Close your eyes.”

Danni was too struck to say or do anything. She shouldn't feel the tingle on her skin. Or in her stomach. She shouldn't feel the excitement as he slowly caged her in. So why wasn't she fighting back? Shoving him away? As his face drew closer, she slightly parted her lips. It was almost a reflex. 

“I won't tell you again, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “Close your eyes.”

The moment Danni was about to follow his order, the door to her room suddenly opened and Dean stepped inside. 

“Hey, I was-” As Dean saw Lucifer, that close to his sister, his facial expression immediately changed. “Get away from her!”

“And hello to you too,” Lucifer said, looking at Dean over his shoulder. “I'm good, thanks for asking.”

“I won't tell you again, get the hell away from her.”

“Fine. Relax.” Lucifer sighed and pulled back from Danni, standing up from the bed. “We were just talking, okay?”

“Yeah, I saw that. For how long has this been going on?” Dean asked and looked at Danni, who frowned in return.

“What the hell are you talking about? He just came back, okay?”

“Yeah,” Lucifer said, “because your sweet sister thought of me.”

“You what?” Dean's voice was getting angrier and louder with every second.

“I just … I didn't think of him. Not really. I mean I thought about that we need him, and let's be honest, Dean, we do. Gabriel left and he is nowhere to be found and we need archangel grace for that spell.”

“We don't need him, we will find Gabriel,” Dean grunted.

“Oh yeah?” Lucifer asked, amused. “And how do you want to do that if even I can't sense my brother? Hm? Tell me, Dean, I'm listening.”

“I don't owe you any explanation, do I?”

“And I don't owe you my grace, do I?”

“Stop it!” Danni stood up from her bed as well. “Both of you. This is serious, okay? It's about Michael who wants to destroy our world. Dean, we need Lucifer, he's the only one who can help us at the moment. So swallow your hate for him and just accept that we need him.”

“I will slam his ass straight back to the cage once we defeat Michael,” Dean said, not averting his gaze from Lucifer.

“Will you now? Okay, yeah, we'll see about that,” Lucifer said and held Dean's gaze.

“Stay away from my sister,” Dean said quietly and Lucifer chuckled in return.

“I think she can decide that for herself.”

Lucifer looked at her and winked.

“He's obnoxious!”

With a loud thud, Danni let the books fall onto the library table which had Sam startled.

“Who?” He asked.

“Who? Lucifer of course.”

Lucifer had been back for just a few days now but to Danni, it felt like it had been weeks. Somehow, the archangel was following her around. Whenever she thought she had a moment to herself, there he was. Always showing up. Like he wanted to remind her that he was around.

“This sassy attitude,” Danni kept on ranting and sat down, “and his smug smile. Arrogant asshole.”

“Whom are you telling …” Sam muttered.

“I can't even imagine how horrible it must have been for you to be locked in a cage with him.”

Sam gave a quiet laugh. “He knows exactly how and where to hurt you the most. Once he found your weak spot, he'll make you suffer the torments of the damned.”

“He's like an itch you cannot scratch,” Danni mumbled and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You know,” Sam said, “the best you can do is not to engage in any of it. Ignore him. That's bothering him the most.”

“I can't ignore him when he's following me around as if he was my shadow. When I watched ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ recently, he suddenly appeared in my room. No knocking on the door or anything. No, he did this angel thing of just showing up. Nearly gave me a heart attack. I mean, what the hell? Just … fuck off, dude. Why isn't he annoying you? Or Dean or Cas?”

“We already had the pleasure with him. We're second-hand goods. But you're the shiny new car.”

“He doesn't even know how to drive a car, does he?”

“That's not … I mean … It was just a metaphor.”

“I know, Sam.” Danni sighed. She had just sounded like Castiel who didn't get most of their metaphors. “I know.” She opened one of the books and Sam looked back into his laptop but he didn't get far.

“And then his constant flirting,” Danni complained. 

Sam looked up from his laptop, confused. “Flirting? How does the devil flirt?”

“Crude. Like everything else he does. God, even Dean's pickup lines are better, and that says it all.”

Sam laughed quietly. 

“I bet,” Danni said, “he'd tuck his tail should one of his clumsy pickup lines actually work.”

“Please don't try to figure it out.”

“I'm not Dean, Sammy, I know my stupidity’s limits.”

“Good. I can only look after one out-of-his-mind Winchester.”

They looked at the door of the bunker when they heard it falling back into the lock and Dean was rushing down the stairs.

“Alright, nerds,” he said and approached the table, “time to put away your books and laptops and feast.”

He placed a bag from a diner on the table and opened it.

“One rabbit food for Sammy,” he said and handed him a big bowl of salad which Sam accepted with a scolding look, “and a double cheeseburger with extra pickles for the lady.”

“I love you, Dean,” Danni said as she took it out of his hands. She unwrapped the burger out of its paper and took a first bite, closing her eyes in bliss.

“And for me,” Dean said and sat down and unwrapped his burger in an almost holy way, “bacon cheeseburger with fried egg and onion rings.”

Sam looked at it and raised his eyebrow. “Did it come with cholesterol-lowering drugs?”

“Hey, if I should die today, I'd die a happy man.”

“And with a fatty liver,” Danni remarked.

“But still happy,” Dean replied and solemnly picked up his burger, burying his teeth in it. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he let out a satisfied moan. “So good,” he mumbled with his full mouth. “Oh, before I forget …” Dean swallowed before he continued. “You'll never guess who called me and asked for help with a hunt.” He didn't even wait for an answer before he blurted out. “Damon Baker.”

“Oh no …” Danni winced. “Please tell me you said no.”

“Are you kidding? I said yes of course.”

Danni hid her embarrassed face in the book lying on the table and Sam laughed.

“Come on, it's been what? Ten years, more or less?”

“Yeah and you two got along very well, didn't you?” Dean said.

Danni raised her head again. “Don't you think that we have enough going on at the moment? I mean with Michael and getting Mom back and finding Jack? We don't have time for this.”

“It might take a while until we can open the rift again,” Dean said. “Even if not, we're three. And just like last time not everyone of us is going over there. So we can spare one to help him out.”

“Oh and that one has to be me?” Danni asked.

“Hey, it wasn't Sammy or me between his sheets.”

“You don't have to matchmake me, Dean.”

“I'm just offering you a little distraction.”

“I don't need that either.”

“Come on, Sis, he's a nice guy, good looking … and he's coming over tonight to talk about the case.”

“Oh for fucks sake, Dean …”

“You can thank me later,” Dean said and took another bite of his burger.

“This is ridiculous,” Danni said quietly and waited in the library with Sam. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

Sam chuckled and grabbed his beer. “Come on, it won't be so bad.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say, Sam. It's not you who's going to work with him.”

“Not my fault that I'm not his type.”

“With the length of your hair, I wouldn't be so sure about that.”

“I'm sure I'm still lacking some critical anatomical features he's interested in.”

“God, I never hated you and Dean more than in this moment …”

“To my defense, it wasn't me who invited him here.”

“Yeah,” Danni said, “but you also didn't do anything to prevent Dean inviting him here.”

Sam laughed quietly and drank his beer. When the door to the bunker opened, Dean came in, walking down the stairs.

“And this is it,” he said to the person following him. “Our bunker. Mi casa es su casa. Make yourself at home.” Together, they approached the library where Sam and Danni were waiting. “You remember my siblings?” Dean asked.

“Sure.” A man stepped next to Dean. “Sam,” he said and looked at him, then he turned his gaze towards Danni. “And Danni.”

Danni returned his gaze. “Damon.”

It had been years since they last saw each other but those years did him well. He had been attractive the first time they met but getting older made him even more attractive. A hunter’s life had formed his body, his black hair got longer, reaching his shoulders, and the dark stubble on his cheeks emphasised his chiselled features. He was, without a doubt, a handsome man.

“Sit down,” Sam said and handed him a bottle of beer as Damon said down. “So, what's that hunt Dean told us about?”

Damon took the beer, opened it and took a long drink. “Have you ever heard of a Manananggal?”

“No,” Sam said and shook his head.

“They are vampire-like creatures. During the day, they're beautiful, young women. But during the night, it divides. The upper torso sprouts huge bat-like wings and it develops fangs. Then it rushes out into the night and feasts on sleeping, pregnant women. It sucks out their foetuses.”

“Gross,” Dean said.

“They’re hard to kill,” Damon continued. “They're strong, intelligent, agile.”

“And how do you kill them?” Sam asked. 

“You have to find the lower part and sprinkle it with salt or ash and then set it on fire. So the upper part can't reattach. And as soon as the sun rises, they're dead.”

“Seems you know everything, why do you need us?” Danni asked.

Damon looked at her. “I've been hunting this goddamn creature for years now. It killed a good friend of mine. And now I tracked it down to this area. Lebanon, Kansas. I remembered you guys came from here so maybe I thought you could help me. Before it kills any more innocent people.”

“We have enough problems of our own,” Danni said.

“But that doesn't mean that we don't have time to help him,” Dean said. “Sam and I will take care of our problems and you'll help Damon out.”

“Will I?”

“Come on, Danni, you could use a little change of scenery. You haven't left the bunker for days.”

“Yeah, maybe that's because we're having a serious situation to worry about.”

“And Sam and I will take care of it. Alright? So, why don't you show him our guest room?” Dean looked at Danni and she hated his complacent smile on his face.

“Fine,” she grunted and stood up. “Follow me.”

She brought Damon to their guest room and turned on the lights. “It's nothing too fancy but it'll do. I assume you won't stay that long anyway.”

Damon threw his bag onto the bed. “We'll see.”

“Yeah, well, the bathrooms and showers are down the hallway.”

“And where's your room?”

Danni scoffed. “Wow. You've been here for merely five minutes and you're already going all-in?”

“Well, all or nothing. You win or you lose. Right?”

“I fold,” Danni said. “Goodnight, Damon.”

She left his room again and walked in the kitchen where she found her brothers whispering. But they immediately stopped as they spotted her.

“What are you two schoolgirls gossiping about?” Danni asked.

“Uh … nothing?” Sam said.

“Yeah. Nothing.” Dean nodded.

“Guys, I'm not stupid, I see what you're doing here.”

“Don't know what you're talking about,” Dean said innocently.

“I don't need to be hooked up, okay?”

“Come on, you've been rather stressed lately, we just wanted to do you a favour,” Dean said. “Just … relax for once. Hm?”

“I can do that perfectly on my own, thank you.”

“Uh, yeah, okay, too much information,” Sam mumbled.

“It has been ages since I last saw him. We were hunting with Dad back then so how old was I? Nineteen, twenty?”

“I just remember that his father was a friend of Dad and that you two clicked with each other immediately,” Dean said.

“Yeah, but that was back then. Now I have other things on my mind. Like saving Mom from Michael. And so should you.”

“Hey, I told you we will work on that while you help Damon out.” Dean laughed quietly. “I should have said 'lend a hand’, shouldn't I?”

“Dean!”

He raised his hands in apology. “Look, we got this. We got Cas and, well, the other winged one, this douchebag archangel who shows up in your room and harasses you?”

Danni sighed. “He didn't harass me, Dean.”

“Well it goddamn looked like it.”

“We just talked.”

“Talked, huh? Yeah, I know that kind of talk.”

“Dean, don't be ridiculous, we're talking about Lucifer, okay?” Danni shook her head. “What do you think I'm doing with him?”

“Hopefully nothing,” he said.

“I am. I don't even understand why we're talking about it.”

“Because,” Dean said annoyed, “when I was walking into your room, it looked as if you were about to make out with the devil.”

“I would never do that!” Danni protested. “Come on. What do you take me for?”

“Listen Danni,” Sam said and intervened, “we're just worried. We trust you but we simply don't trust Lucifer. Because he can't be trusted. Okay? So whatever he tells you, don't fall for it.”

“I don't.” She crossed her arms and sighed. She felt bad not talking to her brothers about these weird feelings she had towards Lucifer but she was scared of their reaction. They must think of her as a horrible abomination. They would never understand. They would hate her. “Don't worry, okay? I know who, or what, he is. We need him to get Mom back and then he goes back to the cage and he will be gone again.”

“Exactly.” Dean nodded. “Good to know that we're all on the same page here.”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a relieved voice. “That's really good to know.”

Danni looked at the screen of the laptop and grimaced.

“Yuck. Do they really look like that?” Danni turned the laptop around so Damon could take a look at the picture of a Manananggal she found on the internet. Apparently, it was a mythical creature that originated from the Philippines.

“Yeah,” he said. “As I said, it separates its upper half from its lower half.”

“Its intestines are hanging out. That's gross.”

“They have to be somewhere, right?”

Danni turned the laptop to her again and looked at the pictures. “Have you ever fought one? It looks rather dangerous. Those claws and fangs and wings?”

“Not to mention that it's agile and intelligent. But no, I've never fought one. But I've seen one. The one who killed my friend.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Damon shrugged. “That thing killed my best friend’s pregnant fiance. And he never got over it, killed himself a few years ago. There's nothing much to talk about.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“And now I tracked it down to this area.”

“How?”

“There were reports about an abnormal rate of miscarriages and deaths of pregnant women in the local hospitals. That caught my attention. I already had a look at it. I suppose one of the gynaecologists is the Manananggal. The hospitals only have a few female gynaecologists so we just have to find out who it is. Although that might take a while.”

“If you know all of this, why haven't you killed it yet?”

“Because a Manananggal is not a monster you kill on your own. Not if you have to. You saw the pictures, that thing is dangerous.”

“So, we find out who it is, then we wait till dusk and it's turned, then we burn the lower half and in the morning, it's dead?”

“Yes, because once the lower half is destroyed, the upper half can't connect anymore and turns back to its human form. So it dies as soon as the sun rises.”

“Doesn't sound that difficult.”

“The difficult part is to find the lower half. Usually it's hidden very well.”

“We'll observe and follow the doctor once we know who it is. Then we'll find and destroy the lower half.”

“Talking about destroying lower halves? Oh my, perfect timing.”

Danni looked up and was immediately met with Lucifer's arrogant, smug smile.

“Oh no …” she muttered.

“So, whose are we talking about? Mine? Yours?”

Before she could answer, Castiel appeared behind Lucifer.

“Sorry,” he said. “Dean and Sam told me to watch him but he got away from me.”

“And … who are you?” Damon asked as he eyed Lucifer and Castiel. Before one of them could answer, Danni did.

“Nick and Jimmy. They are … old friends.”

“Old friends, huh?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Actually we are aeons of years old.”

Damon looked at him and then, he laughed. He turned to Danni, still laughing. “We have a comedian over there, don't we?”

“Wait till you hear the other one.”

“Oh really?” He turned around again and watched Castiel and Lucifer who put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“I'm Lucifer.”

“Lucifer. Like … the devil Lucifer?”

“In the flesh, buddy.”

“Man, you two really are weird.”

“Yes,” Danni said, “they fit perfectly to us, don't they?”

Lucifer strolled over to the table and casually sat down. He crossed his fingers in front of his chest and smirked at her. “Exactly my words.”

Damon raised his eyebrows in confusion and Lucifer looked at him before his eyes went back to Danni.

“For how long have I been telling you now that we fit perfectly?”

“Funny, Nick.”

He looked at Damon again, wrinkled his nose and waved off. “She’s just kidding. She wants me.”

“Can we help you with anything?” Danni asked, annoyed, before Lucifer could say anything more.

“No. Just bored.”

“And we're in the middle of something,” Damon said which made Lucifer look at him again.

“That's what you're calling to be in the middle of something?” He laughed quietly and turned his face to Danni. “Okay, wow, since when are you into the boring ones who look as if they came right out of a Calvin Klein ad?”

“Danni and I have known each other for quite a while now,” Damon said. “Longer than you, I suppose.”

Lucifer eyed Damon for a few seconds before he raised his voice. “And … who are you again?”

“Damon.”

“Damon,” Lucifer repeated and huffed. “Now that's a fitting name.”

The two men silently looked at each other and Danni sighed deeply. “We're working on a case. So if you could-”

“No, seriously,” Lucifer interrupted her and looked at her. “What do you want with someone like him? Especially when there's someone like me?”

“I don't want you.”

“That's what your lips are saying but the rest of you?”

“Excuse me?” Danni said and gave a laugh. “The rest of me wants to punch you in your cocky face.”

“Physical contact, that's good. We're slowly getting there,” he smiled and winked at her.

“We are not getting anywhere, okay?”

“Remember what I said to you about telling those sweet little lies? Keep on telling them and you'll see what happens. Do you dare to find out?”

“It wasn't a lie.”

“Strike two. One more and the coach needs to have a few harsh words with you. I mean we could also skip right to the physical punishment if you'd like to.”

“Okay, take this highschool coach whatever fantasy of yours and piss off.”

“Hey, I'm open to everything, if that's not your preference we'll find something else. Hey, how about I play the devil and you're this little, sinful soul I get to play with? That sounds like something you'd enjoy.”

“Cas, would you please help me out here?” Danni pleaded.

Castiel sighed and walked over to Lucifer.

“Cas?” Damon asked, more than confused by the whole situation. “I thought his name was Jimmy?”

“Uh … it is,” Danni said and waved off. “Cas is just his nickname.”

“Come on,” Castiel said to Lucifer. “We should let them work.”

“But I just warmed up. I'm not even close to operating temperature.”

“Sam and Dean told us to leave them alone.”

“Oh and since when do I care about what they tell me? And besides, don't you see through this? Come on, it's obvious. They're just trying to keep me on a leash and away from their sister. And that wasn't the sentence I hoped I would use the words ‘leash’ and ‘their sister’ in.”

Danni raised her eyebrows in response. “What?”

“Aw come on, you do have masochistic tendencies, nothing to be ashamed of. I like it. Can't wait to explore that a little deeper.”

“Okay, I think that's enough,” Castiel said and put his hand on Lucifer's shoulder to teleport them away but Lucifer quickly raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers, so Castiel pulled his hand back.

“Touch me one more time and you know what happens.” Lucifer stood up again and rolled his shoulders. “I can wait. I know how this will turn out. There's nothing for me to worry about.”

Without looking at them once more, Lucifer left again. Castiel gave Danni an apologising look, then he followed Lucifer to wherever he was heading to.

“Okay …” Damon said slowly and looked at Danni who stroked over her face. “That Nick guy seems strange.”

“You don't have to tell me,” she mumbled and looked into her laptop again. It was quiet for a few seconds before Damon broke the silence again.

“Is there something going on between you?”

“What?” Shocked, she looked up at him. “No!”

“Just wanted to know,” he said. “Because I saw his wedding ring.”

True. Lucifer still wore Nick's wedding ring. But instead of telling Damon the truth about Nick's deceased wife, she let Damon believe that he was still married.

“And you think of me as … What exactly?”

“Nothing, Danni. Your interaction with each other was just strange.”

“That doesn't mean that I …”

She couldn't even finish the sentence. 

“It was just odd how defensive you were,” Damon said. “You only do that when things get uncomfortably close with someone. It's your self protection. I know, I got the same treatment.”

“That's bullshit …”

Damon raised his hands in defence. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I just asked because I was jealous. That's it.”

“Jealous?” When all she got in return was a silent stare at her face, she slightly shook her head. “Damon, you and I, that was years ago. And it wasn't even something serious. Just … whatever it was.”

Damon shrugged. “That doesn't mean that I didn't forget you. And that I don't get jealous of another man who seems close to you.”

“We are not close.”

“Yeah, you already said that.”

Danni sighed and turned her attention to the laptop again, but Damon closed it.

“Hey!” She protested.

“Come on, get up.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we're going out for dinner.”

“Damon …”

“No arguing, you need a change of scenery,” he said and stood up. “So come on.”

She sighed and stood up. “Fine. Alright.”

They walked out of the bunker together. Under the watching eyes of Lucifer who had hidden in a doorway.

After they had left the bunker, Damon and Danni went into some diner. It was the same where Dean always got their takeaway whenever they craved greasy, unhealthy burgers. Except Sam, of course. Danni had her usual double cheeseburger with extra pickles. As a side, she had fries and Damon eyed her suspiciously as she was pouring gravy over them.

“That is perverse,” he said. 

“Yes,” Danni said, “but it tastes awesome.”

“You'll go to hell for this.”

“I did far worse things I could go to hell for than eating fries with gravy.”

“Like sleeping with a married man?”

“Okay, for the last time, I didn't. There was, or is, nothing going on between me and him.”

“Just wanted to be sure,” Damon said.

For the rest of the time, they spoke about the hunt and what each of them had been doing these last years. It was nice to get out of the bunker for once with someone who wasn't one of her brothers. But that was a hunter's life. Friends were a luxury one couldn't afford. All the social contacts one had were other hunters. After their dinner, they walked back to the car which was parked in a small parking lot further down the street. At this time of the late evening, it was almost empty, just a handful of cars standing around in the darkness. When they arrived at his car, Damon followed her to the door of the passenger seat.

“What do you say, shall we make a stop at the pub for a beer?” Damon asked but Danni shook her head.

“No, actually I'd rather go to bed.”

He stepped closer, wrapped his arm around her and his hand rested on her cheek as he leaned in and kissed her. Danni put her hands on his chest and brought some distance between them by shoving him away.

“That was not an invitation.”

But Damon leaned in and pressed his lips on hers again. He kissed her, and she kissed back. Out of boredom, out of habit, she did not know. She kissed him until she averted her face, breaking their kiss. It didn't feel right.

“No. Sorry, Damon.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't feel it. This. Us.”

“And? That didn't stop you all those other times.”

She looked at him in slight shock and he chuckled.

“Come on, we both know it. You always had problems getting attached. You didn't even tell your brothers that we ran into each other a few times after you ran away from them. That just shows how much you cared. What it meant to you. But it's okay. I can do without emotions.”

He leaned in again but she escaped his lips by turning her face away. 

“No.”

She felt his amused smile against her ear, his voice a dark rumble. “If it is of any help, you can pretend I'm your blonde crush. I saw how you literally eye-fucked him.”

“Fuck you,” she hissed and tried to fight him off. She was a hunter with fighting skills after all. But so was Damon. He roughly pushed her against the car and used his full weight to hold her still.

“I don't want to hurt you, Danni. Quite the opposite. Don't you remember?”

“Let me go.”

“You changed. Or something else did. Back then you didn't put up a fight. Maybe you didn't have any feelings for me but you surely enjoyed it. And there is no reason not to enjoy it again. We had our fun together, didn't we? Come on, I'll be good to you and you'll be good to me.”

“Get your fucking hands off me.”

“That really what you want? You know what they can do. How good they can make you feel.”

“No! Get away from me!” Danni tried to fight him off once more but Damon's body caged her in.

“Stop bitching around. Or I will have to hurt you. And it won't be the type of pain you like. Because Nick was right about that, you do have masochistic tendencies. And the fact that he knows?” Damon buried his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back, a painful gasp leaving Danni's lips. “Well, doesn't matter. I'll make you forget him in an instant.”

Violently, he pressed his lips on hers again. He kissed her forcefully, but then, he suddenly pulled back and hissed. He raised his hand and stroked over his lips. As he looked down onto his fingers, they were stained with blood. Danni bit him. And she used his distraction to kick him into his stomach. Damon groaned and Danni quickly escaped his grip. She ran, but she didn't get far. Only just a few steps and Damon grabbed her again, pulling her back.

“Take your goddamn hands off me!”

“Should have known you'll fight dirty. You're a Winchester after all. But there's no point in fighting, Danni. Although I like it. It gives me the feeling that I earned it.” He pushed her against the car again and roughly turned her around so he was pressing himself against her back. “You know,” he hissed into her ear, “I really wanted to do this as consensual as possible. But you have to behave like a dumb bitch. Which leaves me no other choice. So, this is what will happen now. You will be good and endure it, quiet and without resistance. And it will be over quickly. Okay?”

“She said no.”

They both turned their heads. Danni's face relieved but Damon's darkened as they spotted Lucifer.

“What the hell, dude?” Damon spat at him. “Were you following us? What's your fucking problem?”

“Right now? You.”

“Get lost, Nick.”

“Oh, I don't think so,” Lucifer said and slowly walked over to them. “Not as long as you won't let go of her. You heard the lady, she's not interested.”

“Lady?” Damon gave a laugh. “She's a lot, but not a lady. You should know. I mean the things she does? Not very ladylike.”

“Let her go. She's coming with me.”

“You’re the possessive type, hm? Thought so.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Take a number, peeping Tom.”

“Okay, listen you ignorant clod, I'm not known for my patience, so you better take your dirty hands off her and step away from her. Now.”

“Or what?”

“Well, a little death never hurt anybody.”

“You’re right,” Damon said and pulled his gun, pointing it at Lucifer. “One last time, fuck off! This is none of your business.”

“See, that's where you're wrong,” Lucifer snarled and with a movement of his hand, an invisible force pulled Damon away from Danni and he roughly landed on the ground a few metres away. Lucifer snapped his fingers and Damon curled up in a ball, groaning in pain.

“I suggest,” Lucifer said and slowly walked over to Danni, “that you get into your car, drive far far away and never come back. If you should and I'll ever see your face again, I'll snap your neck. Without warning.”

He released Damon from his pain and he pulled himself up off the ground and looked at Lucifer, his eyes in fear.

“What, who are you?”

“You should have listened when I told you,” he said and wrapped his arm around Danni. “I'm Lucifer.”

And then, they were gone.

They arrived in the bunker with the rustling sound of Lucifer's wings. His arms were still around her and Danni leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. Neither of them spoke a word, and the moment passed in quietness. 

“Thanks,” Danni finally whispered.

“You're welcome.”

As Lucifer rested his chin on the top of her head, Danni was reminded of the situation and she slightly pulled back to look up at him. He looked down at her, with his piercing blue eyes and honest concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Danni quickly backed off, escaping his arm, suddenly aware of the closeness between them and she took a few steps away from him. She looked at him and after a few seconds, she sighed. Her head was still processing everything. But she really needed to know one thing.

“Why were you there?”

“Because I saw what he was. On the inside. He’s not a good person. I looked into his soul and saw the depravity. His friend’s pregnant fiance? Guess whose child she was expecting. Looks like you're not the first woman he assaulted. But what do you expect from someone called Damon? I mean, change one vowel and you get what he actually is deep down. Demon. Usually I don't care, that just shows how flawed and broken you humans are, that I'm right about humanity, but it was you, so…”

Danni huffed quietly and processed his words. Or rather tried to. “Well, like I said, thank you.” She turned around and wanted to go to her room but she simply couldn't. She turned around to face him again and shook her head. “I don't understand you.”

“What, do I have slurred speech?”

“No,” she answered with a frustrated voice, “I don't understand why you saved me. That was a nice thing to do. And usually you don't do nice things.”

“I saved you from Asmodeus, remember?”

���Why? Why do you keep saving me? I don't get it.”

“Do I need a reason to do so?”

“You do, yes! You're the devil.”

“And, let me guess, I'm evil, bad, I lie and manipulate, I corrupt, all of Daddy's anti-Lucifer propaganda.” He sighed with annoyance. “I saved your life more than once. What do I have to do so you- … Why do you hold on to morals and the picture you have of me when all they're doing is keeping the only thing away from you that can protect you? Me.”

“I don't need you to protect me, I can look after myself.”

“Oh yeah, we just witnessed that.”

She clenched her jaw and Lucifer continued.

“Maybe I just happen to like you, okay? And every single one of our interactions is you trying to deny that you like me as well.”

“That's not true.”

“Denial! See? Actually you're even denying denial.”

“God, you're driving me crazy.”

“In the positive or negative way? That's important for me to know.”

“Right now you're just driving me crazy,” she answered and turned around. She left him standing there and made her way to her room. But as soon as she opened the door to her room and entered, she froze.

“You didn't believe our little conversation was already over, did you?” Lucifer was casually sitting cross-legged on her bed, his back resting against the headboard and his intertwined fingers resting on his chest.

“What the …” Danni looked at him in shock. “Get off my bed and out off my room.”

“But I like it here,” he said and took a look around before he looked at her. “Cozy.”

She sighed and stroked over her face. “Lucifer, please, I'm tired.”

He simply looked at her and patted on the free side of the bed next to him.

“Oh forget it.”

“What? I don't bite. You’ll have to ask for that,” he said and winked.

“I don't need to stay here, this bunker has more than twenty living quarters.”

“Yes, and I will find you in every single one of them. So spare us this hide and seek.”

“You want to talk? Fine.” She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, arms crossed. “Then talk.”

“See?” Lucifer said and his finger alternately pointed at her and him. “Your body language and the distance, you're defensive.”

“So?”

He sighed and his head fell back in annoyance before he looked at her again. “It's okay to like me. You won't go down in flames admitting it.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Danni answered. “Don't you think we have more important things to worry about than your ego? My Mom is still in the apocalyptic world with your alternate, cruel brother Michael who wants to come into our world and destroy it. Jack is still missing. And all you care about is whether someone likes you or not?”

“Not someone, Danni. You.”

She held his gaze for a couple of seconds. “If I say it, will you leave me alone?”

“Whatever you want after you said it.”

She sighed and looked at him. “Fine, I like you.”

Lucifer got off the bed and walked over to her, still leaning against the door. He placed his hand next to her head and leaned in on her. “Okay and now say it like you actually mean it.”

She clenched her jaw and he huffed. “I hope you're more convincing faking other things.”

“You'll never know.”

“Yeah, because with me you wouldn't need to.”

Danni couldn't hold back a small laugh. “Says the archangel who has experience with how many women again? One? With whom you slept only once to conceive Jack?”

“Twice,” he grunted.

“Oh wow, look at you, ladies’ man.”

“Jealous? I can make it up to you, right here and now.”

“One touchy bastard an evening is enough for me, thank you.”

“Oh and who saved you from him again? Wait, let me think.” He put a finger against his lips and tipped at it a few times before he made a surprised face. “Right! That was me!”

“And I thanked you for it, okay? What else do you want?”

“Be honest,” he said firmly. “Even this underdeveloped monkey realised that you have a soft spot for me. Although he expressed it less charming.”

“Even if,” she replied, “I'd never admit it, mostly not to you because all you'd do is make fun of it. Or use it to your advantage or whatever. Maybe you're just messing with me as a payback for my brothers. Corrupting their sister would be the ultimate revenge, wouldn't it? You may have saved me but you're still Lucifer. There's a reason why you were locked away in a cage for so long.”

“Do not mention the cage,” he hissed enraged and it made the lights in the room flicker.

“I'm sorry,” she said and raised her hands in defence. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? You're sorry? Oh you better are. Because you, you …” Lucifer pointed his finger at her. Then he opened his hand again, about to wrap it around her throat, but he balled it into a fist instead and pulled it back. “I should hate you. But I can't. I don't want to. You ruined me, you turned me into this, you made me care, and now you're standing in front of me and telling me that I belong in the cage? You?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about …”

“And that's exactly the problem.”

“I’m sorry. Okay?” Danni said quietly. “Just … Please don't hurt me.”

“You think I would hurt you just after I saved you?” If she only knew that he couldn't hurt her, even if he wanted to. But he didn't want to. And he didn't want anyone else to hurt her. Ever again. No one would ever do these horrible things to her that Asmodeus did. Not while Lucifer was around. And he wasn't going anywhere. Not without her.

“I don't know, I … Maybe you just want all the fun to yourself. I don't know,” Danni admitted.

“I'm really trying, you know?” He asked and his voice was still angry. “I'm trying to show you, everyone of you, that I can be nice and helpful. I showed you but you still think I'm nothing but evil. And it's not just you. I want my son to like me, I want to be a good father to him. I don't want him to hate me just like I hated mine. I don't want to make the same mistakes my father did. But your brothers and Castiel and his bitchy mother did nothing but poison him with stories about me. He chose Castiel to be his father. Castiel! He didn't even meet me yet and he's already hating me! Is this what I deserve?”

“He doesn't hate you,” Danni said softly, trying to calm him down.

“Everyone does.”

“I don't.”

His eyes were burning into hers and she had to look onto the floor. She couldn't stand his fiery gaze. But he wouldn't be Lucifer if he cared about that. She felt his fingers cupping her chin and he lifted her head up again so she had to look at him again.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded. “Go on.”

“I …” Danni stuttered, the whole situation quickly becoming too much for her to bear. “You did save me. More than once. And it's … I don't see you like the others do. I don't see you as this evil hatch from hell, driven by malice and hate. I don't know what it is but I see something else in you. And I guess it scares me.”

The anger in his face was gone and instead, it was almost soft. “Don't be scared. Not of me.”

“I'm not scared of you, I'm scared of …”

But she swallowed the rest of the words she was terrified to say out loud. 

“Scared of what?” He asked.

Danni looked at him and a shiver ran over her skin as he looked back at her with his piercing gaze.

“This,” she whispered.

“And what is this?”

“I don't know …”

His thumb ghosted over her lips, his face moved closer to hers and this time, she closed her eyes. Then she felt his breath on her ear. She smelled his scent and she liked it more than she wanted to admit.

“You'll understand soon,” he soothed her with his whispering voice and his lips were brushing over her auricle. “Don't worry. Everything will be fine.”

Before she could say or do anything, she heard the rustling of his wings and he was gone.

On the next morning, she walked into the kitchen where Sam was sitting at the table, busy with his laptop, and Dean was standing at the stove, making breakfast.

“Morning grumpy,” Dean greeted her as she walked straight to the coffee machine. He looked behind her into the hallway and she gave him an irritating look.

“Just checking,” he said.

“For what?”

“For whom,” Sam corrected her without looking up from his laptop. Danni looked from Dean to Sam, and he just chuckled and shook his head. “Told you, Dean. You know what that means.”

“Oh no,” Dean said. “Maybe he'll show up any moment?”

“Guys,” Danni chimed in, “what the hell are you talking about?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Dean was sure you'd hook up with Damon,” Sam said.

“What? No, I did not!”

“Son of a …” Dean grunted and reached into his pockets to throw twenty dollars onto the keyboard of Sam's laptop. Danni's look got even more irritated.

“And you made a bet?!”

“Twenty bucks are twenty bucks,” Dean said and turned his attention back to the sizzling bacon on the stove. “And where is he?”

Danni's thoughts went back to yesterday evening. It probably would be better if her brothers didn't know. About anything. Mostly not about Lucifer's intervention. And besides, nothing happened in the end. Thanks to Lucifer. She took a sip of her coffee.

“He got a call yesterday. Seemed to be important. He had to leave,” she lied.

“But what about the hunt? He seemed so eager to finally kill the Manananggal and now he just leaves?” Sam asked.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of it,” Danni said. “I know all the details.”

“Do you want us to come along?” Dean asked and put a plate of hot bacon on the table.

“No. You two better take care of our other problems.”

“We can't because Princess Lucifer doesn't want to give us his grace. Says he still needs to recharge.”

“Don't be so hard on him,” Danni said. “We don't know how it is to have grace, we don't know how it works. And we do need a lot for that spell.”

Dean looked from her to Sam and back to her. “Are you defending him?”

“No,” she said and scoffed.

“You do,” Sam said.

“I don't,” she defended herself. “I'm just saying that we shouldn't push him. We need him.”

“No, no, no,” Dean said, waving the cooking spoon. “We need his grace. That's a difference.”

“That’s quibbling, Dean,” Danni said.

“Did he say anything to you?” Sam asked.

Danni huffed. She was a bit nervous because of the conversation she had with Lucifer yesterday. And she just hoped her brothers didn't notice her nervousness. “He said a lot to me because he simply likes to talk and hear his own voice. You know how he is.”

“That's not what I meant,” Sam said and gave her a meaningful look.

“I don't … What should he say to me?” Danni asked and gave her brothers a confused look.

Dean and Sam looked at each other before they looked at her again, both shrugging.

“By golly, why is everyone acting so weird?” Danni mumbled. “I'm going to pack my stuff for the hunt. I'll be gone for a few days, it might take a while.”

“Alright, keep us updated,” Sam said.

She retreated into her room again and packed her bag. Maybe a few days out of the bunker and away from everyone was just exactly what she needed right now.