#someone sound the goddamn horn

[plantsonplutoart]

america needs a round table so bad right now

king arthur, if you’re out there, there will never be a funnier time to wake up

[clowningaroundmars]

i still cannot get over The Twins like.

imagine.

you have another version of you out there arguably living a life just as difficult as yours, if not more, that you can talk to at literally Any Time! and they're You so you basically already have half a convo down anytime you decide to pop on over via a portal

1610 and 42 stepping out of their respective portals side-by-side just to stroll out of an alleyway like nothin happened just going:

1610: LOUD SIGH

42: rough day too huh?

1610, brushing debris off of his shoulder: yeeep. another run-in with the rhino. again.

42: you didn't lock his dumb ass up like, last month? how'd he get out?

1610: don't know, don't care. so done with this week, i just wanna... i dunno. hibernate til spring 😮‍💨

42: man, what a mood.

1610: what happened to you? you look like you had a rougher day than me!

42, covered in visible bruises and cuts along with his bandages: mannnn... rougher week more like. well... rougher life. but. anyways.

they both nod at each other in Understanding

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

2.2k / 16 / gym buddy Gaz, part 4 (takes place immediately after doing push-ups with Gaz and distracting Gaz as he's counting reps and teasing your gym buddy Gaz a little too much)

...

You were always so goddamn distracting. Now that he has you, he’s gonna make it worth his time. He’s gonna get his mouth on every teasing part of you. Everything under those form-fitting workout clothes. And he’s gonna do it right here against the shower wall.

He pulls at your hips, grunting in pleasure as you grind against him, squeezing him back. You explore every bit of him that's exposed and then a few bits that aren't. It feels greedy to take every inch of him you can reach. You shouldn't be doing this. It's not like you to go so far with someone you're not dating. But Gaz is... God, he's something else. You'd swear right now he's the only man on earth who deserves your attention.

Gaz grunts with approval against your mouth and presses you against the shower wall more forcefully, burying his face into the side of your neck. You shove your hips against him harder, wanting more of him.

He slips his hand into your shorts to stroke your inner thigh. You let out a stuttering breath. Your head falls back into the tile wall with a thump, your legs twitching.

He chuckles, shifting you so he's pressing you up into the wall with his hip, giving himself space to rub his fingers into the crotch of your thong and collect the slick on your folds. God, the sounds you're making. He'd be enjoying them even more if you weren't biting your lip, trying to muffle yourself.

There's less foot traffic in the women's showers, yes, but even the sound of the water echoes around the tile room. People passing through the halls outside will hear.

The risk is nothing to him. Just a little extra thrill. He could have you two separated in half a second. But you've never done something this risky before, have you? To you, this is dangerous.

Keeping you steady on his hips, he grabs your jaw and hooks the edge of his thumb on your incisors to open your mouth up.

"Careful not to let them hear," he murmurs, enjoying the helpless need in your eyes. His thumb tightens over the edge of your lip. "You're gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?" he whispers. "Be nice and quiet?"

You return his heated stare, struggling to keep your throat closed around the sounds threatening to tear out.

He sees the challenge in your eyes and smirks back. "Be quiet or someone will hear us, and we'll have to stop. And if we have to stop before we get what we want," he murmurs into your jaw, "if you make me wait one more goddamn day to get inside you, you'll find out just how depraved I can be next time I get you alone. How's that sound?"

nsfw ⬇

His fingers press down harder into the crux of your thighs and you fight another open-mouthed groan.

"Always trying to lock horns with me," he breathes, pretending he doesn't love it. He works your panties to the side, and when he feels how hot and wet you are inside, he feels lightheaded. "Think you're enjoy acting like a challenge." He shifts his grip, pressing two fingers against your slit. "Think you're a little... a proper little... fuck..."

He pushes his fingers inside you, watching your mouth fall open around his thumb with a graphic moan. He slots his open mouth over yours and swallows it. He's half-convinced this is a dream when you keep moaning, high and urgent, into his mouth, desperately bumping your hips against his fingers.

He's real fucking close to losing the little bit of control he still has. Real fucking close to just ripping your shorts off you and taking you against the tile. He’s trying, but he doesn't know how much longer he can last when you’re riding his hand like that.

You bury your fingers in his hair, desperate to get closer to him. You're lost in what he's doing to you. You swear you're on the edge of whiting out when you hear another set of footsteps and--to your horror--the door unlatching and creaking open.

You gasp, dropping away from Gaz instantly. Trying to, at least, as he crowds you almost protectively against the shower wall. Luckily, there's another wall between you and the door. Unluckily, it's only about neck high for you, which means Gaz rises head and shoulders above it. You quickly push him down to his knees, eyes going to the door as a woman pokes her head through.

“Hello?”

Gaz catches his breath, his hands tense against the tile on either side of your legs. You try desperately not to dwell on how his warm breath fans over your stomach.

"Anyone in here?" says the woman. "Oh! Hi, sorry," she says, "have you seen a pink water bottle?"

She steps all the way inside. You tense. Gaz stays crouched behind the wall; if she keeps walking, she’ll see him.

"I, uh, no, I don't think so," you stutter out. She hardly seems to hear you, looking this way and that, ponytail bobbing behind her. Wow, she's cute. No, wait, you're panicked and horny and unable to focus on getting her out of here.

Her eye skims over a few other stalls and swings toward you. She takes two steps toward the back of the room--toward Gaz, crouching by your feet; Gaz, whose fingers are beginning to crawl up your legs--and if she takes one more step she's going to see oh God--

"Can you hand me that towel?" you blurt out, pointing to a used towel someone left in a heap on the other side of the room, behind her. Her head swivels back. "I could, uh, dry off and help you look," you add.

The woman reacts as if you’ve just given her an extremely normal request. She doubles back and grabs the towel. Then she makes a sound of surprise. "Oh, here it is." She picks up a pink bottle from the counter behind the towel. You hadn’t even seen it. "Thanks anyway."

"No problem," you say quickly. The rough, hot surface of Gaz's tongue runs against your waistline. You push his face away and feel him growl. His hands fist in the hem of your shorts.

You're beaming this woman psychic signals to get the fuck out of here before Gaz decides he doesn't care if he has an audience or not, but she doesn't pick up.

"Hey, don't I see you around some mornings? You and that guy?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah," you manage, just as Gaz yanks your shorts all the way down, thong and all, leaving you totally bare in one swift movement. "Y-Yeah. Kyle."

"Right, SAS guy. Are you and him, like, you know?"

You choke out half a laugh. "We're just friends."

If you weren't being driven half out of your fucking mind by Gaz's thumbs spreading your core open where you stand, this line of conversation would concern you.

He licks a long, greedy stripe up your core. You jerk and nearly stumble back, but he grabs your ass and pushes you harder into his face.

You swear you’re going to kill him slowly.

She doesn't notice--maybe it's the steam fogging up the room. You let out a shallow breath, relieved, until she doubles back and grabs the towel you'd haphazardly pointed at earlier. Oh, shit, she's bringing it to you. She's walking over.

You hope to God you look anything resembling normal when she walks right up to the neck-high tile wall separating you from her.

"Just wondering, you know?”

She takes the towel by one side and unfurls it. Then she pinches the corners together, casually and methodically refolding it in half once and then again as Gaz tongue-fucks you two feet below her line of sight.

“I mean, you're super pretty. I bet you have to fight these men off with a stick just to get an afternoon to yourself, right? But if you need a hand..."

She lays the neatly folded towel over the tile wall. You're forced to lean back just to allow her the space, and Gaz squeezes your ass even harder like he thinks you're trying to escape. He closes your clit lightly, warningly between his teeth, and you bite your bottom lip so hard you taste blood.

When you say nothing, she smiles—the kind of polite smile you give someone you don't know too well—and then turns and heads for the door. "Or, well, you know what I mean. Later."

The moment the door latches closed, Gaz shoves you against the wall of the stall, grabs your thigh, and lifts it over his shoulder. You gasp, grabbing hold of his shoulders and shying away from where his face is still so, so close to your core. He keeps his arm curled around your thigh, sandwiching it between his bicep and his ear.

"Are you fucking crazy?" you hiss.

“Helluva drug,” he mutters into your inner thigh. "Was that cute little blonde hitting on you?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Gaz."

"Mm. Liar." He nips your thigh hard enough to sting, then licks the spot to sooth it. "But you got that whole 'I-don't-mix-business-and-pleasure' thing, so what chance does she have?" He burrows his smirking mouth into the crease of your thigh and takes a slow teasing lick along your insides.

You cry out, leaning back against the wall and grinding your hips against his face.

He reaches his hand up under your thigh, grabbing your ass and pulling you more steeply against his mouth. Your legs splay out involuntarily against his hand and shoulder.

"Gaz-- fuck!" you curse, trying in vain to keep your voice down. "I'm gonna-- I have to--"

Gaz's arm tightens around your thigh. "You're gonna quiet down or I'll make you," he murmurs, eyes molten. He’s a hypocrite, telling you to keep it down while he slides his fingers back into you and pumps them in and out in earnest. He waits until you're writhing against the wall, half-pleas falling out of your mouth, to latch onto your clit again.

You come apart right there, grabbing at his shoulders until your nails score lines into his skin. Your body holds that delicious tension, oxytocin flooding your senses like steam, too far away to notice the way Gaz is growling softly into your core or the way he's fighting not to rut against the floor himself.

When you come back to your senses, Gaz settles back on his knees, looking up at you from between your legs with pupils blown wide.

"You sounded like you needed that," he says, his voice a little hoarse and his breathing uneven.

Still blinking stars out of your eyes, you stoop down to grab the gym shorts and thong pooling around your feet.

Gaz grabs your hand. "Leave them on the floor."

He pulls you down to your knees so you're straddling his lap. His hard length rubs against you through his shorts. He wraps one hand in your hair and the other around your hip, holding all your weight on him as he kisses you hungrily. You twist your hips skittishly, trying not to grind down on his lap as much as he's pulling you down into it. You shouldn't be doing this here. You were nearly caught already.

"Let's go to your room," you pant out of the corner of his mouth. "C'mon."

"I like it right here," Gaz purrs, his voice husky and low. He licks his lips, hovering just close enough that his tongue grazes your lips but his mouth doesn't meet yours. His hips keep moving, rubbing into you. "Right here."

You bite your torn lip, your mind sluggish with lust. "Mm... but..."

"You're not gonna make me wait," he growls, his hand in your hair tightening. "Not after all this time. Not after I took care of you. Not after you came on my face. Right?"

"But people--" You stutter out into a gasp as Gaz flips you over, his body curving around yours as your palms find the wet tile floor. "People will hear--"

"You want me to stop?"

You huff. "No."

He smirks. "You've never done something like this before, have you? Lucky me."

"You’re such a perv."

He runs his hands up your back and down your sides, taking in the feeling of your wet skin, your goosebumps, the flare of your hips as they press back against his. Goddamn, you're a sight. He's imagined this a dozen times, but having you in his hands... yeah, no, you'd never make it all the way back to his room if he were on your heels.

He bends down, his breathing ragged in your ear as he ruts up against you slowly, trying to pace himself. "And you're letting me do what I want to you right here on the bathroom floor, sweetheart. What does that say about you?"

You swallow, squeezing your thighs together.

He strips off his shorts and presses his bare cock up against you. Your breath hitches—you’re still so sensitive, and it's driving him mad. He's aching to feel you around him and see how expressive you really are.

"Nobody will hear us, yeah?" he murmurs. “And if they do, they’ll turn their heads and pretend they didn’t." He chuckles, heat bleeding into his deep voice as he presses the tip of his cock against your folds. "Unless you’re afraid someone will recognize your voice. Someone who might find out you're the little minx getting nailed in the showers.”

"Gaz, shut-- ah--" Your voice breaks as he ruts his hips forward just slightly, beginning to split you open.

"Better keep quiet," he murmurs, a wicked thrill running down his spine at the thought, “or they'll hear me making you mine.”

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 10

Summary: Cooper regrets letting his smoothskin keep the wasteland baby until he doesn't.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: Blood and violence. Deathclaws grow fast. Shorter than usual

Masterlist

"Your goddamn beast keeps eatin' us outta house and home, Cowgirl," Cooper grumbles from behind you, and you roll your eyes from where you are feeding Dusty. The deathclaw had grown exponentially in the past month and now stood at your waist, his teeth past his lips and sharp horns as long as your finger. The baby was as fearsome as he was cute.

"I'm sure he'll be able to take care of himself soon," You comment to the ghoul and scratch the wasteland creature under the jaw. He purrs at you, foggy golden eyes half-lidded and full of affection for the human who had saved him.

Cooper scoffed and shook his head at your ridiculousness. He couldn't believe he had gone along with your dumb ass idea. The deathclaw had been nothing but a drain on their resources, and he was just about done with dealing with it.

Before he could reignite the month long argument, shots suddenly ring out, and the three of your dove for cover. Cooper grabs you by the pack and drags you behind an old car, pushing you down even as he rises to a half crouch and fires over the vehicle. He grins at the sound of one of the raiders screaming and ducks back down to reload his weapon.

You peak over the hood of the car, rifle in hand, and shoot out a woman's knee caps, watching gore and bone splatter behind her as she falls to the ground. Both of you are so caught up in the fight in front of you that neither see the fiend sneaking up on your right side. Someone else however, does.

The raider shrieks when Dusty jumps him, deadly, six inch claws slicing into their soft belly and spilling their guts to the floor. Dusty snarls as they go down, and the baby deathclaw unhinges his jaw to chop down on the raiders throat. He chokes down the flesh between his jaws and continues his feast as the fight continues behind him.

When the last raider is dead, and while you are picking over the fallen bodies for anything of use, Cooper leans against a nearby light pole and watches Dusty devour the raider still pinned under his claws. The ghoul rolls his eyes and grinds his teeth, annoyed at having been proved wrong.

"Alright," Cooper huffs your way, and you perk up, looking at him with raised brows, "You win. Little fucker saved your skin today."

He can stand the smug ass look you throw his way and looks away with a sneer. The ghoul heard the soft padding of footsteps and glared down at Dusty when the juvenile butted his head under Cooper’s palm, obviously demanding pets. He sighed and scratched at the base of a curved horn.

"Dumb little bastard."

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod With Monster!Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Reader is described with some monster features depending on which character, blood drinking, Reader is dead in Ghost’s section, descriptions of blood and a slit throat, a decent amount of spice Soap’s along with some dub-con, also mentions of eating human flesh, Reader is described with a green dress in Soap’s part because it’s part of the mythology that I read, Reader remains Gn though.

A/N: This is the post I got way too into. Soap’s especially is….way too goddamn long.

Price - House Spirit

Price first met you when he moved into his new home. He was annoyed when he thought he had mice, what sounded like their little claws scurrying all under the floorboards and in the cellar, unaware that that was just you moving about. So preoccupied with his own worries, he never wondered how dust never seemed to collect in home, despite him being gone for months at a time, how his clothes and sheets always smelled clean and unwrinkled, or how his dressers were always full despite not actually having done his laundry since he moved in.

It all comes to a head one day when he was home on leave and decided to check his cellar for the first time in the whole 3 years he’d technically lived here. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t even know he’d come home that day and were too busy reorganizing your little nest in the back corner of the room to hear the door open or his heavy footsteps coming down the steps. Not until you could feel his bewildered gaze staring holes into the back of your head.

Things from there were….tense. He wanted to believe that you were some strange person who was either trying to rob him or maybe someone who was suffering mentally and was confused. Something that didn’t fuck up his entire concept of reality and what was real and myth. That was, until he got a good look at your little horns, your long and floppy, almost bunny like, ears, and the swishing tail behind you. He promptly backed himself up the stairs and slammed the door to the cellar shut.

It took another week or so before he went back into the cellar, but this time you were hidden away from his eyes. It took some coaxing from him to get you to reveal yourself, promises that he wouldn’t hurt you or try and force you to leave. Once you did come out, he was all questions, what you were, why you were here, why you were staying in the fucking cellar of all places when he had a bed he didn’t even sleep in when he was home.

After that, things were a bit rocky but….almost domestic. He enjoyed coming home and seeing your ears perk up so cutely when he walked through the door, or how your tail swished a bit faster when he greeted you kindly. Overall, he enjoys your presence and it’s no skin off his back if you want to do all the cleaning that he can’t be bothered with on his few lazy days. Or if you feel like cooking for him when he comes home. Or if you wake him from his ptsd induced nightmares, touching his face and holding his hand, making him warm tea and something to eat to help stop his shaking.

The only thing he insists on is that you move out of the cellar and into an actual room.

Gaz - Dullahan

Gaz met you when he was lost in the woods, a chopper having crashed and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was thirsty and hungry, having run out of emergency rations and water days ago, with nothing nearby to help him. He was on Death’s door, his eyes heavy, his stomach long since having stopped it’s rumbling, body weak and feeling like lead. But, as his eyes began to close, he heard the strangest thing just before he lost consciousness.

The beating of hooves on the ground beside him.

When he came to, Gaz was feeling significantly less thirsty and weak, but still very much tired. The warmth of whatever he was laying on brought him a sense of ease and relaxation.

Until he registered that what he was laying on was ever so subtly moving up and down. At the same time that he made this realization, something cold and wet nudged at the palm of his hand, making him shoot upright. Whatever it was startled at this and snorted almost angrily, making him lose his balance and fall back.

What he saw only confused him. A large black horse with a long mane and tail, it’s eyes completely white and leaving him feeling cold every time he looked into them.

And then a voice, your voice, calling out to the giant creature. “Dubhshláine, come.” You said, and it did, but not before sniffing at Gaz’s face one more time before it trotted over to your side. Then Gaz was pushing himself back up, eyes searching for the source of the voice, almost shouting when he saw the headless body that was petting the snout of the great beast.

It took….a while for you to calm him down, frantically trying to keep him from running, your voice shouting from somewhere that he needed to calm down and that he shouldn’t move when he was like this. But his struggle only ended when he was practically dry heaving in your arms, dizzy from trying to exert himself like that when he was recovering from dehydration and starvation.

Things went a bit smoother after that, at least, once you reattached your head and offered him some berries and meat that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to eat, despite you insisting that it was just goose. He did end up eating it though, if only to stave off the incessant rumbling of his belly. And that night, as he let you guide him into a cave and helped him into a large pile of warm furs, you promised him that you’d help him get home.

But he couldn’t help but think that going home meant he’d never be able to hear your soothing voice again.

Ghost - Poltergeist

Ghost is someone who goes to thrift stores every once and a while. A habit of his, as he doesn’t like to spend too much money, and part of him likes to see what sort of things other people have collected and gotten rid of over the years. Priceless things and useless things alike. Normally he sticks to buying little, only things he needs, like a cheap and worn t-shirt because his last one finally became too ripped to wear in public.

But on that day, something else caught his eye. A simple and small Jade necklace tied on a black string. His fingers brush over it, running his thumb over the hole in the middle where the string was tied. Ghost should have known something was wrong then, as he never took interest in jewelry. Ever.

The owner seemed to take notice of his attention and told him to just take it, as it had been sitting on the rack for ages, longer than he could remember. What he didn’t tell Ghost was that people constantly avoided it, avoided even looking at it, even the owner himself. It instilled a sense of dread and fear, and made people’s hearts race. The owner had tried to simply throw it out but it ended up right back on that rack, time and time again. And if it wasn’t making this strange masked man uncomfortable then he was more then welcome to take the fucking thing off of his hands.

Ghost is surprised at the offer but accepts after a moment of hesitation. The necklace becomes sort of a good luck charm for him, and he rarely, if ever, takes it off. It’s always so warm against him (it grew almost scorching whenever he took off his clothes), making him feel a sense of security that he wasn’t sure that he ever felt before.

But soon things…changed. He noticed that if he neglected to touch the necklace for a certain length of time, things would happen around him. Things moving from where he left them, pictures falling from walls, objects jumping off of shelves. Like a brat throwing a temper tantrum after being denied attention. It was something that he brushed off time and time again as the wind or loose nails or whatever other thing he could think of. Ghost didn’t believe in the paranormal.

At least, he didn’t. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to hands oh so gently petting his face and chest, an eerie and croaky sounding cry echoing quietly in the room, he starts to believe just a little bit. His eyes slowly peek open when your hand on his face drifts down to cup the back of his neck, your other hand going from his chest to his hip as you press soft and sweet kisses to his chest, focusing particularly around the necklace that laid in the center of his skin. He only got a good look at you when you started rubbing your cheek against his clavicle, that same noise as earlier coming from your mouth.

And god when he saw you.

Your throat was slit open, that much he could make out, wide and deep, so deep that it must have damaged your vocal cords, which explained why you sounded so croaky. The blood from the cut was all down your front, staining your once white t-shirt and the panties that adorned your body. And you looked almost see through, but Ghost could certainly feel how corporeal you were.

Ghost’s eyes quickly shut again when you started to move, straddling his hips as you pressed those same kisses to his face before curling yourself against him, burying your face into his neck. You seemed…..lonely, almost. And Ghost decided he could work with lonely, especially when he had been left feeling the same way for the longest time.

Soap - Baobhan sith

It was a stupid wish, made in the dead of night, when he was lonely and sleep deprived on a mission in the middle of nowhere, his comrades sleeping around him on the forest floor while he took the watch shift. It was a wish for companionship, to not be as lonely as he often felt. Sure, he had the 141, but the 141 were family. Not a lover that would hold him tight, press kisses to his lips, tell him that he was loved and cherished.

And that was when you appeared. He didn’t see you at first, too lost in his own thoughts. You only caught his attention when you shifted, your curious and mischievous eyes peeking out at him from behind a tree trunk. He was stunned for lack of a better word, especially when you came out fully, your long green dress dragging on the ground. What were you doing out here?

He called for you quietly, his voice full of concern. Were you hurt? Looking for help? Lost? He stepped closer but you stepped back, gesturing for him to follow you, to chase you. And it was stupid that he listened. He was a soldier and he was leaving his sleeping comrades defenseless. He shouldn’t have set his gun down and took off after you, no matter how worried he was. But something about you was clouding his judgment, making him lose his way.

He stumbled through brambles and branches, through bushes and mud, your giggling the only sign that he was even going the right way. And then finally, a break in the darkness. A little homey cottage, the sudden light almost feeling blinding to his retinas. But when he opened his eyes again, you were there, excitedly beckoning him again, coaxing him into what was supposedly your house.

Soap knew he should turn back, should wake away, but his body only moved forward, his mind a fog of confused desire as you pulled him in for a kiss, your back pressed against the door. He was putty under your touch, just waiting to be molded into whatever shape you wished for, whatever shape pleased you best.

And apparently what pleased you was having him under you on your soft bed, riding his cock for your pleasure and your pleasure only, batting away his hands every time he tried to touch you. He was desperate for it, for more of you, like you were a drug he’d never be able to come back from, that he’d never stop craving.

And then you came and all he could think of was how you were pulling away, how wanting he was, how he couldn’t let you leave him like this. He didn’t notice the red in your eyes or how sharp your teeth became, how you started to go for his wide open neck, his blood pumping so deliciously fast for you.

And then you were flipped, so distracted by the thought of your own meal that you didn’t notice that he’d grabbed you until it was too late. He pushed your face into the pillows as you started to wiggle, his other hand clenching the meat of your hip tightly to keep you still as he plowed back into you, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure.

He’s overcome with the need for his own pleasure. With the need to drown himself in the pleasure your body gave him. His cock was twitching, he was so close. So so close. He needed it, needed it more than he needed the air in his lungs. He leaned in-

And you screamed.

Your cry was loud and sharp, like a banshee’s wail ringing in his ears. It shattered the haze in his mind, sent the wool flying from his eyes. He looked down and he saw your skin steaming from where his dog tags had touched your back. You seemed relieved with them gone, your body shaking under him, snarling at him over your shoulder.

It clicked for him suddenly, everythinh falling into place like one horrible puzzle that was missing its final piece. He’d grown up on old stories and legends of creatures that harmed humans, ate them down to their bones but were repelled by iron. His tags were steel, so he supposed they were close enough to iron to merit their effect on you.

You watched him. He watched you.

And then all at once he was moving again, finding your little squeak of surprise both amusing and cute. You were confused but he had never been more certain in his life. As he used you like his own personal whore, his mind was made up. You were his now. You couldn’t leave him. You were the first person in so long to take away the loneliness, the pain.

He flipped you onto your back, holding your hands above your head with one hand as the other whipped his dog tags over his head, wrapping them around your wrists as you hissed at him, bucking wildly. It only served to impale you further on his cock, making him groan with delight before his mouth was on your skin, nails raking down your sides now that you were successfully restrained. And he didn’t stop til you were a drooling whimpering mess on his cock, his cream dripping from your sore hole as he pressed kisses along your face and hands. Showing you how good he could please you and take care of you.

And then, you’d come with him, right? You chose him that night in the woods, and he chose you right back. Except instead of a quick meal, you ended up with a Sergeant who was head over heels for you and refused to leave you out in your woods all alone.

At least he was cute.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Useless - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Seventeen of Pedrotober: Arm Sling Pedrotober Hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (No Outbreak)

Rating: I cannot emphasize this enough: E. I don't even know what happened here. I'm apparently feral for this man. Oral (m receiving & implied f receiving), unprotected p in v.

Word Count: 1456

a/n: To the wives - come get your old man.

"Let me get that for you, Dad. Don't strain yourself," Sarah goads as she reaches up to grab a mug from the cabinet. You watch from your place at the kitchen table as she proceeds to pour out Joel's morning coffee into the cup. She cautiously hands it to him with a smirk and a reminder that it's hot.

Joel, on the other hand, simply stares at his daughter with a sour expression. "I'm fine. I can get my own damn coffee," he grumbles, sinking into the chair next to you, mug in hand. He'd dislocated his shoulder a few days ago when he not so gracefully fell down the stairs., and now neither you nor Sarah would let him forget it.

You lean into his space, resting your head lightly on his good side. "Come on, you know it's just because we love you, right?"

"Speak for yourself," Sarah interjects, "I do it because he's old."

He grunts, sipping his coffee and ignoring the kiss you press to his cheek. Sarah giggles as she leans back against the counter, triumphant in her teasing.

"Isn't someone gonna be late for school?" Joel questions, causing Sarah's eyes to widen before she rushes up the stairs. As if on queue, the sound of an engine rumbles in the driveway, signaling Tommy's arrival. He's had less time to eat you out of house and home now that he has to make up for Joel being out of commission, a fact that amuses your boyfriend greatly, so it's only seconds before an impatient horn honks.

"Bye Dad," Sarah rushes by with a quick pat on Joel's hand before she addresses you, "make sure he doesn't work too hard, yeah?"

You stifle a laugh, Joel rolling his eyes as his daughter grabs her bag and heads for the garage. He sighs heavily once you're alone, and you can tell he's bothered by something more than the teasing. "Hey," you reach out, wrapping your small hand around his much larger one, "what's going on? Is it your shoulder?"

"Damn right it's my shoulder," he groans again, but he still grips your hand tightly. "I'm just tired of everyone acting like I'm useless."

"Joel, it's been three days," you point out, inching closer so your knees are pressed against the side of his leg. "We don't think you're useless. We just want to help."

"Then help by letting me get my own goddamn coffee." He's angry. You know he is. But not at you or Sarah. He's angry with himself. "Can't even take care of you."

Oh, so that's what this is about.

You stand, swinging a leg over him as you situate yourself in his lap, still careful of his shoulder. "Joel," you repeat, voice firm, "listen to me."

He stares at you, gaze intense.

"You are not useless, you hear me?" You take his head in your hands, thumbs running over the stubble on his jaw. "Plus, there's plenty you can still do even though you do need to take it easy." He seems to catch your drift as you lean in to whisper in his ear. "You hear me? Take. It. Easy."

Joel's dark eyes follow your path as you lift yourself from his lap and move down his body. He shifts the chair back from the table, legs scraping against the kitchen tile, just enough for you to drop to your knees in front of him.

"You don't have to do anything, you hear me?" you remind him. Your hand runs over the soft fabric of his sweatpants, lingering over his thighs as you work your way closer to where he's already hard and straining. You can tell he's desperate by the way his breathing has picked up. "Let me take care of you."

Joel seems to be in a trance as you tug at the band around his waist. He shifts his hips to help, his cock springing free. "Should be takin' care of you," he protests through clenched teeth when you wrap your hand around his length, stroking slowly. "Should be making you feel good."

"Shut the fuck up, Joel."

He's about to say something else when you take him in your mouth, forcing him to let out a rough groan instead. Your hands grasp what your mouth can't take as you work him deeper.

"Fuck," he mutters, his good hand finding purchase in your hair. "Fuck."

When you hollow your cheeks, the sound he makes resembles a whine, high-pitched and needy, and he hisses through his teeth when his length hits the back of your throat. You keep him there until your eyes water and the need for air overwhelms your need to make him feel good.

A string of saliva connects your lips to his length when you pull back. It's obvious he's trying to regulate his breathing when you run your thumb along the slick tip, mixing his arousal with the remnants you've left behind. "You, Joel Miller," you whisper before licking a long stripe that starts at the base of his cock and runs the length, "need to learn," you take him in your mouth for a lingering second before releasing him again, "how to let others take care of you."

Joel shutters above you, your eyes locked with his when you lean back in. Your knees ache against the tile and it's obscene, really, how wet you are, but you ignore it all as you focus on guiding him over the edge.

"Shit, Sweetheart, wait," he breathes out, fisting his fingers in your hair to pull you off him. You consider, for a moment, resisting so you can feel him spill down your throat, but you also know Joel.

His lips meet yours the moment you've crawled back into his lap, his cock trapped between you. "You are a menace," he informs you, hand guiding you back to his lips while his fingers inch lower. "Are you're missing the entire point."

You grind your hips against him, "no, you're missing the point."

"How about this?" he asks then. "I'll let you do one thing for me."

Raised eyebrows mark your surprise. "And what exactly can I assist you with?"

"Take. These. Off."

Joel's fingers are tugging at the waistband of your shorts, and you're more than pleased to help him. You stand, quickly shucking the fabric down your legs before climbing back onto him, sure to position yourself above his cock before you slide down in one quick motion. You both moan when you're seated fully, Joel filling you completely as you adjust to the stretch.

"Better?" you ask, one arm wrapping over his good shoulder as you carefully trace the bad one. "Or do you need more help, old man?"

He snaps, your plea for him to be more cautious with his injury drowned out by the moans he draws from you. He has you on the kitchen table seconds later, his good hand holding tight to your hip as he pounds into you without regard for the pain you know he must be feeling.

"Told you I should be the one making you feel good," he tells you as the wood beneath your back rocks with the force of his movement. "Gonna show you just how capable I still am."

His fingers move to your center, circling frantically, and you grip at the edges of the table. "Uh uh," he tells you when he realizes your eyes have fallen shut, "eyes open." It's all you need, and as his tip reaches the edge of your cervix, you're clenching tight around him.

"That's it. That's my girl," he whispers, something wild in the tone of his voice before he follows you over the edge, stilling against you with a final grunt.

You glance down to where you're connected, your combined release already beginning to dribble down onto the table. Joel looks positively wrecked when he pulls his cock from you, and you're sure that you do too, still sprawled out in the middle of the kitchen. He shifts his arm sling slightly, wincing as he does so.

"You okay?" you ask, the worry returning to your gut as you sit up and reach for him. "I'm sorry, we shouldn't have..."

He silences you with a kiss. "Feeling fine, Sweetheart," Joel reassures you. "In fact," he continues, lips trailing a path that leads lower, "I think you might need another demonstration."

"Joel, you don't have to prove anything..." you insist, even when he's between your thighs and you want nothing more than what you know he's about to do.

"That's where you're wrong, Sweetheart," he tells you, breath hot against your center. "I need to prove something."

And prove something he does.

[moralesmilesanhour]

okay okay, i have had this one thought in my head about a platonic gender-neutral (or male/masc-leaning) reader fic. this is for either miles (more so 42 than 1610 bc i can imagine his face of exasperation). imagine just being his dumbass friend, like yeah your smart enough to be in visions, but goddamn!! you leave your braincells in your school locker once the final bell rings. your self preservation instincts are questionable at best and the only reason you're not dead yet bc you're proving that quote "you can't kill stupid" as a true fact. at least you bring homemade food over everytime you visit his home and his mom likes you, so you're not completely hopeless in life. (i've had this rotating in my brain for days and still haven't written it myself) -☁

a/n: I went the masc route with this one with a sprinkle of gender envy if u squint

You thought doing homework on a rooftop would be a nice change of scenery.

Dangling off of the rooftop? Not so much.

A tiny group of pigeons had been hanging out near the edge, and you had the idea to try and feed them with the bag of sunflower seeds you'd brought with you. Carefully, you step forward toward the flock, until some unknown force of nature causes you to trip over your own feet and sends you careening over the edge.

Somehow, you manage to grab hold of the railing of the fire escape just below, but your palms are sweaty. You heave as you use all of your upper body strength to hold yourself up while desperately trying not to look down.

It's not enough.

Just as you lose your grip, a strong arm catches you. It's covered in purple leather, ending in a familiar clawed hand.

"Again?" Asks an amused modulated voice as wind rushes past your ears.

"You make it sound like a daily occurrence."

You feel a jolt as the masked figure swings and lands in front of an alleyway before putting you down. As you adjust your crooked glasses, the mask whirs and splits in two before receding, revealing the smirking, deep brown face of your friend, Miles.

"What happened this time?"

His voice is low and nearly too soft to hear, a stark contrast to the tinny high pitch of your own. No amount of lowering your larynx or whispering could ever get it like that. Part of you wishes you could steal it sometimes, or borrow his voice modulator, at least.

If only.

"Tripped," you answer, rubbing your upper arm as a side effect of the claws' tight grip. "Dunno how you always manage to catch me."

"Easy," Miles explains as he unzips his black duffel bag. "I see that ratty ass gray hoodie you always got on and swing right over."

With a whir and a clank, he removes the claw on his right hand, then his left, tossing them into the bag.

"How does carryin' those around like that not damage them?" you blurt out suddenly. Miles snorts.

"You gonna fix 'em for me, genius?"

"No."

"Thought so."

Finally, he removed the grappling hook strapped to his back and tied his jacket around his waist.

You say his catchphrase before he does: "Let's bounce!"

This earns you a burst of laughter from Miles as you make your way out of the alley.

"What, I say it wrong?"

"No, it's just..." he catches his breath and claps you on the shoulder as he passes by. "You make it sound so friendly."

"Whatever, man."

-

"Yo, pay attention, dude!"

You feel Miles' hand yank you backwards by your hoodie as a car horn blares past you. Once you look up from your phone, your eyes widen.

"Oh, shit."

The car had barely missed you.

The streetlight across from you finally turned white, and the two of you crossed. Miles keeps glancing back at you until the short journey to the opposite sidewalk is completed.

He stops, crossing his arms. "How many times are you gonna almost-die today? Lemme know so I can adjust my schedule."

"Until someone finally finishes the job," you joke before remembering something. "Ah fuck, I hope the brownies survived."

You swing your book bag off of your shoulder and kneel to open it, revealing a small Tupperware container filled with home-made brownies stacked on top of your textbooks. Thankfully, there is only a bit of chocolate smudged on the sides; the pastries themselves remain (mostly) intact.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "You know taking the textbooks home is optional, right?"

Zipping your bag closed, you reply with a shrug,"I like re-writing my notes. I need to access the source material."

"I need to access the source material," Miles mimics you in a nasally voice before strolling past you. "If I were a worse person, I'd shove yo' ass in a locker."

You laugh, breaking into a jog to catch up to him with your 'source material' weighing you down.

"Just for that, I'm telling your mom the brownies are just for her-shit!"

A piece of cracked and lifted cement trips you up and scuffs your sneakers. Your hands shoot out to break your fall, planting themselves onto the ground. Your glasses aren't so lucky.

"Aw, man, I just got these!" You frowned as you dusted off your khaki shorts with one hand, holding your glasses in the other.

One of the frames now has a crack right down the middle.

"That's tough, buddy," Miles remarks.

He had spun around as soon as he heard you yell in case of another near-death experience, but was now trying desperately to hold back laughter that escaped through his nose as he walked backwards towards his destination.

"It's not funny!"

"It's a little funny. You're like a Looney Tunes character."

You laugh, "If an anvil falls on my head, it's your fault."

[moonlighttdoll]

LIKE AIR AND WATER - ex husband!J.W x reader

synopsis: meeting your ex husband after the divorce, but you miss him

cw: “you, y/n persp.” , assassins nothing rough

dividers by: @issysh3ll

You’re sitting at a private hotel bar, a gathering place for hitmen and criminals. This is where your ex husband, an assassin used to spend his time.

The marriage fell apart because of his secret profession. Initially you had no idea what John did for a living, but a year into the marriage, he couldn’t lie to to you anymore, so he confessed to being a paid killer.

It was a shock that left you feeling deceived and unable to handle being married to an assassin. Besides his long hours, constant absence, and the constant risk of death, you couldn't believe that the sweet and charming man who swept you off your feet, who would take you on late night drives in his mustang and who would hold you close at the lowest points of life, was a goddamn killer.

The divorce broke John and so did it break you. both of you adored each other. The look of utter devastation in his eyes when you handed him the papers still haunts you. That was the last time you saw this man until now, five months later.

The bar seat next to you squeaks quietly. You hear the low voice of the man whom you loved for so such a long time. "What are you doing here?"

You sigh, almost inaudible and put your glass down "John..." your voice barely above a whisper.

You feel the heat of his body beside you and finally dare to look up at him. He still looks the same despite having been gone for five months. A bit of a scruffy beard, wearing a white shirt and his favorite brown leather Jacket on top of it. A few loose strands of his black longer hair covering his face a little...and the ring. He'd also still wear the ring?

You look down on his hand, which rests on the countertop. "You still wear it?" You ask, clearly avoiding his question. He nods and looks at his finger.

"I do. Do you still have yours?"

You lift your left hand, showing him the sparkly diamond on your ring finger. He slowly reaches up gently grasping your hand in his. John quietly observes the ring for a moment, before he brings your smaller hand up to his lips, and places a fleeting, reverent kiss on it. You feel a pang of guilt inside you and your eyes begin to burn and tear up but you quickly push it aside and bite your tongue to prevent the tears.

You feel him carefully tilting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look directly at him.

You knew that he still waited for an answer to his question. "I missed you" you mutter almost completely quiet as an excuse to why you’re around here.

You see his shoulders visibly relax at the words. The tension leaving his face and his heart swelling with relief. "I missed you too" he admits

You clear your throat and gently push his hand down, trying to keep control over yourself. After all, you were the one coming here, hoping to see him. Whining like a baby would be dumb now.

"You haven't found someone new...i suppose?" You see him frown a little but he shakes his head "Nobody would ever compare to you, you know that"

Without looking at him, you take a big sip of the drink. Bourbon, his favorite.

"What are you not telling me?" He just knew you too well, to notice something is off.

"It's nothing"

"It doesn't feel like nothing"

"Can we go somewhere more quieter?" Your voice barely above a whisper again.

The cold autumn breeze runs through your hair and makes you snuggle deeper into the warm coat as both of you walk through a park. Even though New York City is always crowded, the park you’re walking through is almost quiet and empty. Only the sound of a few car horns could be heard from the wide distance every now and then. The sky is black and the full moon is shining bright. You walk a few minutes in silence, until you take a breath. "I felt guilty because..." you try to build a sentence in your head and he gives you all the time you need.

My boots are leaving clicking noises on the ground as you both take slow steps "i felt guilty because i did, i did found someone new after we...divorced" you trail off again, annoyed by own behavior, you tilt your head back and look into the pitch black sky, searching for the stars.

You feel him glancing at you, waiting for you to continue. But when there’s no other word he speaks up “You found someone new?" He asks, trying to smile and be happy for you. A flicker of pain passed over his expression, but he tried to keep his face neutral.

You shake your head, causing him to frown in response. "We broke up yesterday" you state, observing as he clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. "May I ask why?" John inquires.

Lowering your gaze, you instinctively wrap your arms around your chest. "It was never the same as it was with you" you confess, watching as he slowly comes to a halt. You turn around and gaze up at the sky for a split second.

"I missed you, and I realized that…i could never love someone the way I love you, John" you gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and exhale a shaky breath. "Would you give it-…give us another try?" You finally manage to ask, feeling a heavy weight lift from your shoulders.

"Try again? Is that truly what you want? After everything that has happened?"

You blink a few times, taken a little aback by his response.

"John- i’m sorry i was acting dumb, and-" Before you can finish your sentence though, he cuts you off by stepping closer and suddenly capturing your lips with his own. The pain of five months spent yearning for his touch, his tender lips against yours, and longing for him instantly disappears, replaced by a sense of belonging and comfort. It feels like coming home.

In that moment, you realize that you never want to lose this man again.

You need him as much as you need air and water to live, and it appears that John feels the same.

[ms-nesbit]

Sweet home chicago (jason todd x afab!reader)

chapter one

Rating: 18+

Warnings: eventual smut, swearing, father figure dick grayson, skater tim drake, sad jason todd :(

Summary: dick and tim trick jason into taking a vacation in chicago. There, he meets someone he hopes to never forget.

Note: im sorry for dipping, yall. I really had some important things to take care of.

ao3

Amber and rose peeked through the hedge between the array of buildings on Michigan Avenue. Jason blended himself with the sea of tourists and chic aristocrats. He didn’t necessarily stick out like a sore thumb, as there were a few Chicagoans dressed casually like him; even in the late-November evening, he sported his signature red hoodie and straight fit jeans, tattered and dirty near the hem. No matter what, he wanted to appear mildly stressed, only mildly, so as to not draw more attention to himself than his six-foot-four frame already did.

He wondered how he got here. Was it the phone call from Dick, or the two dozen from Tim? Could it have been neither, and he perhaps wanted to rush the plane during the busiest season, nudged in a lousy middle seat between an obnoxious preteen and a middle-aged woman watching poorly edited, extremist conservative media? To be fair, Jason treated himself to Portillo’s once he left the airport - a well-earned reward for not lashing out at the self-absorbed individuals beside him.

He stepped briskly, moving in sync with the less-anxious of the crowd toward the shopping district notoriously named Magnificent Mile. On his left ear, he heard the excitement in the tune of indistinguishable conversations and the season’s final water taxis boarding; in his right, a wireless earbud, softly playing his childhood favorite, Diana Ross and the Supremes.

Once he reached the other end of the bridge, he strolled to the sidewalk in front of Tribune Tower, pulling his phone out and indiscreetly sending a message of his coordinates to-

A call. “As much as I love the smell of fish, garbage, and the crooked CPD, why did you and Tim want me here?” Jason was more curious than upset, but he’d rather not disclose his true feelings to his brothers.

“C’mon, Jay, it’s the Windy City! You ever been to Chicago?” Dick asked. “Beautiful everything here. Tim’s at the Van store up the street, and I’m grabbing a slice of pizza across from ya. You wanna come over and get a slice, grumpy? You get a little hangry sometimes.”

Jason sighed, and his stomach grumbled in response to the offer. “Alright, but I’m not goin’ outside. I sat next to some wackjob on the flight who sounded like she needed to be in the looney bin, and I’m not lookin’ to make friends.” As he spoke, he quickly turned his head before dashing across the busy street, waving off a car blaring its horn at him. “What’do’ey have?”

“How about you see?” Dick approached Jason, smiling mischievously. Jason ended the call, moving his eyes to Dick’s hands behind his back. “Guess what I got?”

“Dick, I’m not in the mood for games-”

“Ta-da!” Dick shifted in his coat, revealing a white box with a drawn pizza and the name Lou Malnati’s on it. Jason pretended like his mouth didn’t water at the smell of grease and garlic. “I had ‘em make a classic cheese with those square slices. How about we sit down on the riverfront and talk?”

And talk. No matter the temptation, be it a buttery, gooey pizza right under Jason’s nose, he still believed it wasn’t worth the compromise of having to make more than small talk with others. “Listen, Dickie, as much as I appreciate the offer, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about-”

“Dude, this isn’t about Artemis, if that’s what you’re about to say.” Dick shrugged in his beige peacoat, a piece of his thick, navy, knitted cardigan spilling from his waist. “I just want to, y’know, see if you want to go to this thing tonight.”

Jason cocked a brow in his theatrical manner. “So you and Tim badgered me, had me fly all the way to goddamn Chicago, all to just talk over some overpriced pizza?” Around him, he felt the glare of customers, but he doubled down, giving them knowing looks. “I’ve been here. Want a real place? Go to the goddamn place off Clark and Dickens. You’ll thank me later.”

Dick rolled his eyes, already tired by Jason’s heels in the sand. “Always gotta be a drama queen. Just…come with me. I’ll explain once we’re out of earshot.” His voice was hushed, signaling Jason to follow suit. They walked together to the riverwalk, sitting on the cold high-risen edging. Dick delicately opened the lid of the box, revealing the savory American delicacy and motioning for Jason to take the first slice.

Once Jason reached for the slice, taking his first bite and stretching the rosemary-seasoned cheese from its bed atop the crust, Dick began. “Tim and I were thinking that the three of us could use a break.” Jason grumbled indistinctly into his pizza slice, swirling the string of cheese around his tongue in a tight noose. “Bruce has been a handful lately - I mean, he always is - and I think it would be a good lesson for him to finally be on his own instead of taking us for granted, y’know?”

Jason nodded, rearranging his food to one side of his mouth so he could speak with the other. “You do know that Bruce is probably better off without me, right? Since I-” he swallowed the food, kissing the excess sauce and garlic from his teeth, “leave a ‘pretty big mess’, as he says.”

“You also help. Gang-related crime decreased about 37 percent when Red Hood regularly patrolled, and the Gotham Gazette did a poll, based on before and after Red: thanks to Red Hood, 6 out of 10 female Gothamites feel safe walking home at night, compared to the 3 out of 10 prior to Red Hood’s introduction.”

The statistic surprised Jason. He was used to the smearing from Justice League’s best, so it was nice to hear a compliment for a change. “And Timmy’s on board with this?” He didn’t hesitate to take a second slice, while Dick left the pizza untouched.

“He was the one who coined it.” Dick looked out at the river, mildly put off by Jason’s shameless eating habits. “We were patrolling one night and he just said it out of the blue. I get it, though.” He pursed his lips, staring wistfully. “I couldn’t tell you before because then you wouldn’t agree to it.”

Dick was right: when he’d offer to take Jason in after they reconciled, Jason refused. Though not Bruce’s blood son, Jason was comparably stubborn, sometimes surpassing the Dark Knight. “And where are we gonna stay?”

“That’s the best part.” Dick finally reached for a slice, folding it in half and dipping a chunk into his mouth to cut from the slice. “Tim hacked into Bruce’s business travel account and used some of his points to book a stay at some fancy place called Waldalf…lemme check.” Dick reached into his peacoat pocket and pulled out his phone, checking the reservation. He continued to chew, as did Jason, and Dick leaned over to show Jason the reservation email. “Astoria. It’s a couple of blocks here, I think. Worst case, we can just use a taxi or Uber there or something.”

“I’m banned from using Uber.” Jason said nonchalantly, squinting at the details on Dick’s pristine phone screen before looking the name up for himself. “I can walk as long as I can have another slice.”

Dick blinked at Jason blankly before glancing at the remnants of the pizza. “Take the small one right there.” Removing a wrinkled, discolored restaurant napkin from his back pocket, Jason snatched the slice with an asymmetrical, genuine smile, now holding a slice in each hand. Dick bit his tongue in his mouth to keep himself from laughing. If he hadn’t held a slice in his, he would have snapped a photo to send to the family group chat. “We’re already checked in, so just bring whatever luggage you have with you.”

Jason looked up from his slices like a deer in the headlights. “Sorry, I didn’t think to bring anything other than the usual.” With a slice, he vaguely gestured to his dirty clothes.

“I was…expecting that.” Dick chuckled lightly. “I brought you some clothes so you could go out and enjoy yourself for a change.” He spotted Jason’s eye roll. “You’re in your twenties, for crying out loud. Enjoy yourself! Make a friend. Would it kill you to just live?”

As Jason shook his head, a few strands of grey fell from his messily combed back hair and onto his forehead. “What, is coming back from the dead and seeking vengeance to blood-thirsty psychopaths not living?”

“No, it’s not.” a voice came from the other side of the riverwalk, by the bustling street: a lanky-built male, wearing a beige Santa Cruz sweatshirt and dark jeans, strolled on his skateboard toward the brothers. “And by the way, Jason, you look no different than the bourgeoisie skimming the racks at Urban Outfitters over there.” Jason’s frown dropped at Tim, already bugged by him. “Me and Dick were basically wanting you to, y’know, socialize like a normal human being. I know you’re an introvert, I get that, but you’ve gotta, y’know…converse.”

 Jason stood from the platform, brushing the suggestion from his broad shoulders. “Jesus, and you wonder why I don’t want to hang out with you guys.” he made an excuse and walked back toward Michigan Ave, finishing his slices along the way.

“By the way, Dick.” Tim nudged Dick with his elbow, showing him a photo of zoomed-in Jason, a few minutes earlier, smiling goofily with his two slices of pizza pie.

Dick erupted into laughter, doubling over and nearly knocking over the box.

-

“You got the terrace suite?” Jason muttered in blustering shock. “Bruce is going to be so pissed.” His lips stretched into a wide smile.

He plopped onto the sleeper sofa, sprawling his limbs out to relax. Dick assigned Jason to the couch (“Finder’s keepers!”), while Dick and Tim each slept in their separate rooms. “We already received a warning about how you’re dressed, Jason, so if you could please promptly change into something more appropriate, I’m sure this stay would be more enjoyable for all of us.” Dick managed to remain calm while conveying, despite the fatherly-level of disappointment underneath his skin.

Heeding Dick’s advice, Jason made his way to Dick’s room, where he opened up the luggage Dick neatly packed for him: a pair of dress shoes, two pairs of socks and boxer briefs (all red, for continuity’s sake), along with a lightweight, tightly knitted sweater, t-shirt, long-sleeve undershirts, and two pairs of slacks (one beige, one black). Jason sighed halfheartedly, bummed by the array chosen for him. He knew, of course, it was his responsibility to select his own attire, but of course he’d forgotten it, lost in the chaos of his everyday life; Dick anticipated Jason’s reaction, and packed something nonetheless, and although grateful, Jason still hesitated to express it.

While Tim and Dick explored the depths of downtown, Jason immersed himself into the room, quietly exploring the channels that Astoria offered.

Knock, knock. “Housekeeping!”

Jason yelled back, “Come in.” while munching on a bag of corn chips on the couch, eyes lasered on the television screen.

The housekeeper, wearing a black and sky blue uniform, pushed his trolley in. “Are you enjoying your stay, Sir?”

Jason shrugged. “My ma was a housekeeper for a bit. Don’t worry about the ‘sir’ stuff, it’s all good.” The response was new to the employee, who stood for a moment before excusing himself to clean the bathroom and bedrooms.

“Sir,” the housekeeper returned, gripping the trolley behind him with a single hand. “Would you mind vacating the room while I clean, or should I return if you are…busy?”

Jason looked at the chip crumbs on his hoodie before looking back at the housekeeper. “I’ve no problem leaving. I’ve gotta change, so I’ll go the other room. Could you just lock the door when you leave?”

“Absolutely, Sir.” the housekeeper said before Jason shut the bathroom door, slacks and sweater in hand.

—

Stepping out from the courtyard of the hotel premises, Jason wandered down the corner, unable to prevent himself from making grotesque faces at the high-end stores nearby. The breeze chilled the skin on his face to the point where it eventually felt like he was kissed by needles, and he unlocked his phone to find a place to settle down and (hopefully) eat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an approaching blotch of yellow and blue, to which he immediately hailed down. A taxi parked along the curb, and Jason hopped in. “Could you please take me away from here? Some place with some good food?”

The driver gave Jason a look of uncertainty, pondering before nodding and starting the meter.

Jason sat back and relaxed as giant metallic letters standing proudly on top of clear, godliness glass storefronts began to disappear, one by one, until they were replaced with bulletins and signs, and tented storefronts matched with painted, worn down brickwork.

He exhaled in relief. Despite living with Bruce and his luxurious lifestyle, the unspoken language of wealth was still foreign to Jason. He didn’t understand why the affluent would whisper, and why evil would poison their tongue and burn away at their heart once their financial wealth accrued.

After slipping the taxi driver a couple of hundred dollar bills, Jason abruptly left the vehicle, reading the name of the restaurant to himself. “Like the song…?” he asked the driver, who nodded.

“Different spelling, different things.”

Jason inhaled nasily, chest rising. “Alrighty, thanks, man.”

The driver nodded once again before waving and merging back into traffic. Jason entered the restaurant and was instantly greeted with sweet and savory notes, causing Jason’s stomach to cramp in pain. He walked up to the counter, so clean that he could almost make his reflection out, and waited for an employee to serve him. While he waited, he studied the menu: sandwiches, soups, and more appetizers to choose from. He chewed on his bottom lip, distressed when deciding between pasteles (mix of plantain mix and meat, wrapped in a banana leaf) or mofongo (stuffed plantain).

“When you’re ready, I can take you.” A voice notified him as he stood like a bronze statue before the menu.

He didn’t take his eyes off the photos above the counter. “Sorry about this, I’m a first timer - what are your pasteles filled with?”

“Usually pork or chicken, but we make them with cheese now since there are some vegetarians.”

“Could I have just pasteles, one with cheese filling and one with chicken?” Jason asked.

The clerk pressed a button on the register, which was a tablet with a brightly lit screen. “Sure thing. Anything else?”

“Yeah, and…pastellitos de guayaba? Can I have that, too? And water.”

The clerk pressed the screen a few times, noting down Jason’s order. “Of course. For here or to go?”

Jason finally tore his eyes from the menu to look at the clerk, and his mouth fell open at the sight of the clerk: hair was tightly curled, coiled from their roots; lips plump and glossy, appearing much more enticing to Jason than the food he ogled at.

“Here.” he stuttered, feeling heat rise up to his neck. The clerk smiled at him, and they placed their hand on their wide hip, bringing Jason’s eye to it.

“It’ll be ready in a bit. We’ll bring it to your seat, yeah? Sientate.” They motioned with their nose at the dining area, a selection of polished wooden chairs and tables to choose from.

Before he could ask for their name, the clerk rushed to the kitchen of the restaurant, repeating his order to the rest of the staff. Jason watched them walk away, their bottom half swaying in the leggings they wore, before he realized his leering and chose an empty seat and table near the colorful mural.

Thoughts rushed to the tall man’s head, some impure ones welcoming themselves for the first time since he and Artemis parted. Their relationship was, in short, complicated, and neither of them were fully transparent toward another, leading to the inevitable diffusion of the once-kindled fire; it didn’t break Jason’s heart, but rather disappointed him, and he felt that his fate of inescapable loneliness was encapsulated.

The clerk reappeared from the kitchen, holding two plates of food. They walked past Jason, ignoring whatever eye contact he attempted to make at them, and attended to the table diagonally from his. “Y te quedas a tu mama, ok?” They spoke warmly but sternly to the couple, before leaving with a grin. “And you,” they pointed at Jason, “your pastellios should be ready in one to two minutes, okay?”

Jason nodded frantically, popping an optimistic grin. “Can’t wait.”

“I know.” they winked at Jason before turning back around and walking through the revolving door leading to the kitchen. Jason felt something distant in his stomach. Perhaps hunger?

In a few minutes, the mysterious clerk returned, holding what Jason hoped was his food. When they arrived at his table, settling the plates down delicately before handing him cutlery and a glass, he beamed first at the food, then at the beautiful clerk. He didn’t know which he was more excited for. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem.” they returned his smile, eyes glistening at him. “Our chef is working on something else for you to carry out, free of charge. Can’t let you starve out on us, right, big guy?” their eyes briefly scanned Jason’s figure, which caused Jason’s cheeks to flush a bright pink.

They’re hitting on me, the fuck. “Thanks! I was hoping maybe I can come back, get your name?”

“Oooh, I like the sound of that.” their voice dipped an octave, and Jason swore he felt his pants tighten under the table. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “How about I save you the trouble and tell ya now, that way next time you can take me out for dessert?”

Jason smirked at them, slowly checking their figure out before focusing his attention back on their eyes. “Sure.”

“It’s y/n.” they purred, reaching their hand to rest on Jason’s bicep. Their skin was soft, yet calloused. “And you are…?”

“Jason.” he grinned. “Sorry, I’m new at this.”

“Don’t worry.” they assured. “I’m here if you need anything. And if you decide to take me on that offer, my number is in the check right there.” they pointed to the black checkbook beside the plates of food. Jason’s skin was burning under their touch, and when y/n had to leave, Jason felt a twinge of sadness when they retracted their hand.

Unraveling his cutlery from the napkin, Jason made sure to make an important phone call before his vacation ended.

[senka-mesecine]

I feel like rhah is the type of guy to have the gnarliest double standards, he says over and over again that he’s disenchanted with women and that he’s fighting for his soul, and that women are jezebels and harlots out to get him, but at the same time when it comes to falling in love he’s as hopeless as a middle school boy with his first crush 😂

I’d kill to see that brought to life potentially with a nurse who treats him nicely for a SECOND and all of a sudden she has rhah bringing her little gifts and constantly showing up to pester her like a cat

The One Time Rhah Vermucci Fell in Love (And Everyone Had to Endure it).

Rhah Vermucci x Reader.

---

-"Bah! They're the gateway to hell!"-

He throws his head back, exasperated and holding court.

-"Been since the time Eve bit into the apple."-

Continuing, Rhah wags his finger, figuring these snot-nosed kids needed to hear this from someone who knew his elbow from his prick; needed to take it to heart, so if they ever rotated back to the world they wouldn't end up wrapped around the finger of the first malicious, insidious skirt that came walking by and batting her lashes at them, looking to collect those sweet vet benefits. They're all gathered around him and his makeshift throne made of filled sandbags, listening to the sermon. If anything, in another life, Rhah imagines himself being a preacher. Father Vermucci.

-"Because think about it! Open your collective third eye!"-

He taps the side of his head for special emphasis, eyes scanning everyone surrounding him, from Taylor, Big Harold, Crawford and an openly amused looking King. Well, he could be smug as he liked but it didn't make his words any less correct. -"They get together with assholes and produce even more assholes. Bring evil into the world! Spread it like a disease!"- He starts talking with his hands, smacking all of his five fingers against his thigh, the contact practically snapping. Taylor nearly jumps at the sound. Good, good. He needed to be jumpy. Means the lesson was settling into his bones, right where it belonged too. -"It's like a primordial black flame they protect and perpetuate. Half of the reason why we're in the mess we're in."- When Rhah really thought about it well enough, the war here was to be blamed on women in the first place; if they didn't go around giving birth to a bunch of demons from both sides, none of this would've happened. When he catches the boys sharing knowing, wordless glances like they were being quietly speculative, he decides to up the ante and give a concrete example; one close to home base. One they were all familiar with. -"I mean, someone had to go ahead and give birth to a Barnes. Ever think about that? No! Of course you don't! That's a scarlet woman's bit of handiwork right there."- He hisses, drawing in his breath sharply, lounging forward, until his spine was bent forward towards the pale faced mugs that seemed like they've just heard the scariest ghost story ever told; someone had to give birth to a Bunny. To a O'Neill. To a Wolfe. Someone gave birth to Victor Charlie as well. Someone brought that forth into the world. Someone did everyone that particular disservice.

And who was it?

Oh, yeah, right, a broad.

The usual suspect.

-"She got laid up with the horned one and Barnes is the end result! That's why he can't be killed! He's the devil's brood! Antichrist!"-

He keeps his voice deliberately low and hushed.

In the off chance the walls of the Underworld grew a pair of ears.

King rolls his eyes, chuckling, arms crossed over his chest.

Sure, laugh. Vermucci would see who gets the last laugh.

He'd see who gets the last laugh when it turns out that woman King's been writing the whole time, that Sarah or whatever her goddamn name was, turns out to have been porking someone else the entire time.

-"Rhah, bro, you're whack, man."-

His royal highness King shakes his head from the wooden poll he was leaning against.

The rest of the boys looked the way bugs look when you lift up a rock.

-"Maybe so."-

Rhah stands up, shaking his whole hand at King, index finger extended, deciding to stand his ground no matter how much he was mocked. Every prophet was initially considered insane in his own home village. John the Baptist even lost his head to a whore like Salome.

-"But, I'm also right."-

He stands face to face with King, throwing his whole chin out.

The man just laughs, his golden tooth reflecting the light of the surrounding candles.

Unexpectedly, Taylor. Taylor of all people speaks up.

-"Funny coming from a guy with an altar to Aphrodite next to where he sleeps."-

The kid half-grins causing King to burst out laughing with such a gusto his whole body bends forward with his hands grasping his knees for support, Rhah's mouth falling agape and his head whipping back to face the kid, travelling back and forth between the woman's statue surrounded by melted candles erected next to his bunk; he feels the accursed heat of the blood running into his cheeks overtaking his zeal.

-"Atta, Chris."-

King wheezes, congratulatory of this subversion and mutiny and fine, fine.

That's how it was then, huh?

Rhah's words of wisdom were totally lost on this crowd.

Let them all be deceived and lose their soul to the first pair of legs that walks by then.

None of his business. Ain't gonna fight anyone's battles for them.

He had his own soul to save.

But nobody can say he didn't warn them.

―

Two weeks later a stray bullet grazes his leg and Rhah finds he felt no pain.

In fact, laid up in the infirmary bed surrounded by a pack of groaning and moaning sinners complaining about every aching bone, limb and extremity, he was grinning like a man possessed the entire time. -"Twenty stitches, but it'll heal."- You explain softly and he was tempted to act like his condition was even worse than it actually was only for you to take a bigger interest in him. He was in deep. He was in deep. He was in deep. He nestles the back of his head comfortably into his pillow, adjusting himself there to get the best possible view of you and the stack of paperwork pressed against your chest. -"After a while, the scarring while fade and you won't even see where it was."- You reassure, like he wanted the scarring to disappear in the first place. Like he wouldn't have prefered to keep it forever as a memento. He unfurls his mouth even wide until he feels all of his teeth on display; you ascribed this as him being in shock and yeah, he was in shock. Sure, these broads all tended to be pretty because it was their natural predatorial tool meant to ensnare the gullible but you were more than just pretty. Was it just him or did you have a white aura around your head, hovering around you like a shimmering halo? -"Now, rest, please."- You instruct, briefly touching his shoulder with your fingers and he has to grab hold of them lightly, bringing them up to his lips. If this warranted him being up for Section 8. then so be it.

-"Madam."-

He's all breath and a raspy voice, fascinated, pressing a kiss to your knuckle.

His other free hand coiling into a fist, slamming his own chest.

Your wonderful, supple, graceful mouth falls agape.

The rose petals of Venus herself!

-"Right here! Right here is where they should've shot me."-

He whispers adamantly, thumb pointing at his own heart like someone hellbent on giving a vow, his throat still feeling raspy and guttural. Coming through hoarse, strained by his recovery --- all the dehydrating medication and pills he was pumped with when all the cure and healing ointment he needed was right in front of him; he supposed he understood that cherry Gardner right this very instant, rest his soul, going around showing his wallet and his girl in it to everyone. Momentarily, your shock fades as you stop trying to pull your fingers out of his grip and he spots the shadow of a half-smile as you turn your head, slightly flustered. Heavenly trumpets, rejoice! She smiles. He places your hand atop of his torso, covering it with his own, squeezing it steady there. They all could've been Jezebels, whores, harridans, gorgons, sorceresses, hussies and fallen women but every once in a while, like a diamond in a rough, a man could run into a true Archon --- you were sweet enough with him to be considered a saint, after all. He throws his chin out, facing you, staring at you head on, so you'd understand how much and how badly he meant this. Really meant this. -"The bullet should've ran deep, deeper, so it never fades."- Rhah assess firmly and you meet his eyes, the tension in your held hand relaxing along with your shoulders. You were allowing him to knead your sweet fingers, fully receptive.

He was in love.

―

-"Look at her! My angel, flung out of heaven!"-

The whole Underworld practically shakes with the sound of his voice and while admittedly, the first thing he went about doing was getting as high as a kite and showing off the photograph of yourself you've given him, it wasn't just the influence of quality Ganja that got him so euphoric; it's like the whole got painted over with new colors. Hell, Rhah didn't even mind that Taylor was merely feet away from him, talking about him. So!? Let him talk! Let them all talk. -"What's going on?"- He hears the kid ask, leaning over to King, all conspiratorial, ear to ear and cheek to cheek like the men who stabbed Julius Caesar. -"It's Rhah and some pretty lil' nurse. He's in deep. Been running his mouth about her for two hours and we all had to sit around and listen."- In equal measure, he hears precisely what King answers back, his mouth askew in a half-smile, scrutinizing him. Nah, he had to interject and correct that one, plating a hefty kiss to the surface of your picture. -"The most beautiful nurse alive and don't you forget it!"- If they had to, they'd listen to him rant about you for the remainder of their collective service tour out here or he wouldn't be called Rhah Vermucci. -"Don't know what chemicals they put in the water back at the hospital or if they did something to the grey matter in his brain but, fuck, brother returned a changed man."- This time around, King raises his voice, not maliciously, joviality and the casualness of a jokey aura surrounding him like a warm hue, but nonetheless, all Rhah could do is scoff and shake his head. They really didn't get it, did they? They won't laugh so much when it's their turn to be struck by Cupid's arrow. 'Specially Taylor. That one would get hit by the madness real hard and Rhah could tell just by looking at him.

-"Ain' no signs of him stopping yet either."-

Crawford obnoxiously cuts in from the other side of the bunker, snorting.

-"I thought he didn't like them very much? Women, I mean."-

Chris comments, clearly teasing.

Rhah was exasperated. Running his hand through his slick back.

When did college boy get so mouthy?

Was 'Fuck with Vermucci' a holiday all of a sudden?

-"The duality of man, Taylor, the duality of man."-

King clicks his tongue, entertained, giving him the stare.

They're all circling him like wild animals.

-"He's been hit by that thunderbolt."- He adds, all 'ooh's' and 'aah's'.

-"He's in love, brothers, and we'll have to endure it."-

King puts special emphasis on the word love them, dragging it out like stale chewing gum until it is undeniable that a taunt's a taunt, followed by a playful nudge in the shoulder; Rhah flinches back, rolling his eyes, sensing his own jaw locked up tight, tucking away your picture into the front pocket of his fatigues, right next to his heart, where you belonged. The candles surrounding his altar were all lit tonight, illuminating the Underworld, giving it a warm, golden hue. His soul feels lifted. Light. Like he was sent an angel to make it all right. Regardless, his words come up spiteful, goddamn nearly spitting. -"When your turn comes"- He addresses them all collectively, gruffly, pushing his jaw out, his ire fading momentarily even as he points an extended, threatening finger at each and every one of these mugs. -"you'll sing and shout it from the rooftops too! Yeah! That's right! Until then, you ain't know shit!"-

[thesquirrelqueer]

& Juliet 1/5/25 Notes

- first split tracked show of the Y3 cast! nicky, romy, and esosa splitting gregory, nell, and lucy (but mostly nicky!gregory, romy!nell, and esosa!lucy) also cassie!angelique, gabe!may, and alaina!rosaline

- esosa!lucy + nicky!gregory + romy!nell from preshow to paper reveal

- romy and nicky swapped places and lines for romy to do “oh my god i’m obsessed with you shakespeare”

- romy also did “I didn’t know he had a wife” from the nell spot

- nicky!lucy + esosa!gregory + romy!nell from BOMT into domino

- nicky!helena debut! they did an opt down and sang a much lower harmony line

- esosa!lucy + nicky!gregory + romy!nell from domino to SOMH

- romy!lucy + nicky!gregory fuckin' perfect to end of roar

- esosa!lucy + nicky!gregory for the finale (reese and romy might’ve been missing during this from what I could tell)

- esosa!lucy + nicky!gregory + romy!nell for the bows

- romy has new LTL shorts, they’re now very light green ones

- shoutout to double gay daniel!henry for the end of KAG with nicky and esosa

- esosa in the juliet crew for problem

- esosa dancing with daniel during SUBG

- esosa as a couple with joomin for the wedding

- cassie!angelique is chaotic af and sometimes I really liked it and sometimes I really hated it

- drew and alison getting extremely in each other faces on “I will shakespeare” again (but even more extreme than last time I saw them do that)

- drew yanking alison’s chair towards him before “patience sweet lady, wizards know their time” and I was like goddamn

- makai walking backwards offstage with the house model before oops

- romy changed from lady cap to her normal wedding outfit in order to do fuckin perfect and roar

- cassie forgot to enter during the scene after WWFM so it just went

maya: he should’ve told me about his past….

*awkward silence of cassie not entering*

gabe, walking away: we’ll talk later

- cassie is good at the physical comedy aspect of angelique

- cassie completely flopping down on the bed after she made her first entrance

- cassie doing a lasso move on “wishing that heros they truly exist”

- cassie doing an adorable little shimmy towards paulo after “are you coming or what?”

- “and he was nice. and he smiled.” “and?” “and nothing. which is fine I… I just have to understand that some things aren’t going to happen for me.”

- gabe going hard af on the ending of NAG

- gabe leaning down to sing to nathan at eye level during WWFM

- charli didn’t have her SUBG wrap top during problem? like she was just wearing the teal mesh top

- charli has a new jacket, it’s a similar design but a much brighter teal color with very poofy sleeves

- cassie!angelique doesn’t have a different corset for the wedding nor does she have the outer skirt part the other angeliques have

- cassie gesturing at frankie while she’s talking with lance right before SOMH as if to say “talk to your son"

- cassie's line delivery of "no, I don't think so" was very monotoned and more like "No. I don't think so" like imagine if siri was saying it that’s what it sounded like

- cassie was very into dancing with may during domino, it kinda reminded me of how kathryn was on the tour like she was having fun and then realized oh shit responsibilities when she heard lady cap

- maya getting out of sync with the music during SML and having to go "and this is where it all begins- looooove"

- there was laughter on bein sir (boooo) but then a second later someone's phone went off and it was a clown horn ringtone and honestly I don't know if it made the situation funnier or worse

- cassie being super extra with tip toeing around the bedroom before teenage dream, it was like she was trying to remember which floorboards creaked and was being super careful about it

- cassie was HORRIFIED at lance's "who you calling little" joke

- cassie saying '"all I can think about is juliet's future" instead of "I can only think of juliet's future"

- cassie not taking the heart from paulo at all on "if you want it take it"

- maya holding up 4 fingers on "four days

- nathan doing a riff on the "over" of "overprotected" before juliet joins him on the bench

- daniel popping his collar before doing the SUBG couple dance

- liam's mic cut out on "we both (know we) can't go without it" so he just went HAM belting as loud as he could with no mic (including the high note) in problem

- cassie did a little bit of the gestures megan used to do during angelique's proposal

- cassie saying "will you my little frenchman marry me" instead "so let me ask you my little frenchman will you marry me"

- drew screaming at alison on "the only reason I went through all this work to bring them back together was because I thought you wanted a happy ending" and then alison screaming back at him on "take some control over her life where she had none before" (and if I say this was one of my favorite versions of this scene i've seen)

[mydysfunctionalvampirefamily]

Goddamn why does dark Selina have to be so cool??

Suarez can freeze dark Selina???? That is badass.

My God Ira is rolling so well. 27 dice of damage? That is insane.

Did he just strip Reiss of his perfect clarity easy peasy? Yes! Anything to make Reiss look like the loser he is.

Goddamn Arabella is also very cool. Team astral is going strong.

Ira not wanting Arabella to associate with him. 😂 I'm glad they can still laugh and be a little silly in all this.

Noo they counterthaum his thingy??? Oh they failed.

Reiss failed!!! Yay! I really hope he dies the most pitiful death. Like that people almost don't even care.

Noooooo they possess Eden??? Not our baby! How dare they. 🥺

Apocalyptic form??????????? Oilblsck owl wings, 2 extra arms?? Demon horns??? Extra eyes???? I am cackling. This is def unhinged final battle shit. 😂😂 Also understandable why he didn't use this before, this is not subtle.

Omg the reactions. I don't know I'm ready. 😭

"Oh god." 😭 Wynn bb.

"Miles isn't selfish." 😂 he said that with a straight face too.

Wait who shot Suarez? One of the blsck hand guys?

So basically this roll will mean we might have a season 3 Johnny boss fight??? Plz No. Thank fuck!

-10 on the dice pool??? Wtf Dark Selina?? For someone who loves to fight you don't want to be hit. Kind of mid if you ask me.

13 successes???? That's my boy!!!!! Hell yeah Johnny!!!! Okay she rolls 7 successes but still!

She soaks 11 and she halves all damage?? Goddamn! That is fucked up. Like I know she is powerful but fuck!

46 dice blood pool???

Garrett rolling so bad for her blood pool 😂😂😂 that is so funny.

Wait what??? Why is she all of a sudden getting 6 agg? Me so confused. But I mean I'm not mad about it.

Uhoh this sounds like a Lasombra black hand person.

Okay I know I'm late in asking this in the last episode, hlbut how is lethal damage less bad than agrivsted damage? That makes no sense.

Johnny just got 9 blood? Woah! So tenah is sacrificing herself rn, right?

Oh god Suarez dead and headless?? Brutal.

I feel like Johnny saving the life of the werewolf is so pivotal, maybe not in actual combat but in showing who Johnny is as a person.

Oh, I guess I should have said trying to save the life of that lupine.

Everything goes black??? He dies???? Hahaha haha I'm not laughing hysterically and panicked, you are!

Noooooo!!!! Not just like that?!!?? Wtf 😭😭😭 I somehow assumed Johnny would live. He's such a beast. Now who's gonna kill dark Selina?!?

Also remember 3 lines ago when I said the choice might not be pivotal to this fight. Well I was definitely wrong.

I am screaming!!!! What if Miles made a final deal to get Johnny back oml 😍😍😍

Rebecca trying to be a good girl and reminding Lex of Selina powers and being rewarded with the knowledge that it's a presence power. 🥰

She soaks 11??? Damn. Britta is trying her hardest. 😭

Wow dark Selina, jealous of Britta in all this? That's wild. Also spreading Britta's bosyparts across the state like some fucked up treasure hunt is highly messed up!

Dark Selina is so petty. 😂😂😂 "Your father is dead, shut up."

Come on Miles, baby! What's one more deal for your boo? AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH (I scared my dog I screeched that hard)

He can fucking teleport???? I'm sorry, demon Miles is fucking dope. Even the demon portals are kind of a charm.

Holding someone up in the air by the neck.

The fucking shocked Gasp from Rob when Lex said Neil 😭😭😭 I'm immediately crying.

(the line: "the only thing that makes sense to you is that wherever you are, Neil is there." is gonna be such a lifeline for shippers to cling to.)

Johnny, baby. 😭 The hug. The conversation. I don't know why, but I wasn't ready for this.

Remember when we were laughing at Wynn sending tremere to their room and not sobbing? Good times.

Omg I kind of forgot about the Johnny resurrection. Damn poor Neil all alone again.

Johnny can control his frenzy???? Woah!!! Kill this bitch!!!

"Save them, I've made the deals I needed to." Stop! 😭

The glee in Tim's voice killing these people.

Noooooo the oubliette!

Wait now she has jess and Eden???

😂😂😂 They're in the last battle of the world and they're arguing about if they need to scrap movie night from the curriculum.

Ira is such a badass.

Noooooo Reiss!!!!, now she's gonna eat the girls.

No nono nono Reiss cannot leave! He needs to die!!!

Yaaaaay fire damage!!

YESSSSSSSAAA HE FUCKING KILLED HER!!! SHE'S FUCKING ASSSSHHHHJ BABY!

Okay now that I've cheered and all that I'm basically only halfway through this episode. Uhoh!

Omg Weathers????

Johnny and the fire flower.

"He ran away." Wynn plz 😭

"Miles thinks you should do that can you change your line, Miles?" 😂

Wait why are we taking Delgado?

Thank you, Miles! I mean I get the complicated relationship Johnny but wild to just bring him.

Wynn is not taking Neil's death well, not that I think she would. But she's angry.

AAAAAAAHHHHH is he gonna drink her??? Yes pllleaase!!! Noooooo whyyy you gotta be sensible??? 😭

Johnny going from angry to soft at Miles. "Friends till the end." 😭😭😭

If they know the weapon that kills Selina, why do they need pendragon just go to Hartford and get it?

The Britta/Johnny hug 🥺🥺🥺 (I know someone who is gonna Love this)

This is a testament to how insane shit has been that I had already forgotten that Wynn had to choose between Neil and Britta back then.

Not the almost childlike hope of Johnny that they can just find Neil's ghost and solve this.

"and tries to tell herself to get up, because he's not coming to help her." excuse you! I'm walking my dog and crying rn. I thought we might have a quick break where I could be in public and listen to this goddamn podcast!

Miles trying his best to sound so casual up on the rooftop. But still hoping there is a way. Saying he doesn't think he can stay instead of full out saying he can't. Damn.

Even in this moment you cannot unravel your emotional constipation???? God fucking damnit Miles!!!

You're making me fucking cry about cigarettes??

Britta: I don't know if I like being called a death assassin

Wynn: I don't know what other kind there is.

Touche Wynn. 😂

Why does it sound like they are kind of leaving Britta behind? That would be fucked up.

Johnny and his girls though, how perfect would that be? Okay good Britta is gonna get to do her own thing by her own choice instead of just being left behind. 😂

Yaaaaay Britta finally saying she is good at something! Only took us 100 episodes to get her to recognise her potential.

Miles' final piece of accounting advice: it's your car, you can paint it any colour you want.

Uhoh. UHOH. Noooooo. We knew this was coming, but it's still so freaking sad. Fucking Lucinde, why is she just the worst? Even when she's gone she is still ruining this. Why not let them have one last night together? One last group hug. Wynn fearfully begging Miles to go and make sure she never finds him.

Miles still taking care of all of them though, making sure they have papers and money.

If I'm gonna be honest I kind of assumed/hoped we would just kill Lucinde before this was an issue.

Jessica is so awesome. (this is a compliment! Before we have a whole John is so cool thing all over again. 😂)

I cannot believe John Fucking Reiss is still alive!!!! I stfg! That was my only hope. That he'd die. 😂

What the fuck??? Roman Pendragon did a TV interview covered in blood??? 😂😂😂😂 Sorry that makes me crack up. That is insane.

"I'll miss you most of all, scarecrow." 😂

"... Into the dark." idk why but those last three words gave me goosebumps. I can't believe it's done.

Also on the one hand I'm glad Miles is alive, but idk maybe it's because I so assumed he'd would for sure die. And I hoped he'd die sacrificing himself. But if I really let go of my obsession with bringing Miles pain and being the idea of him and Arabella like that is kind of funny. Also the fact that Zofiel always gets his way is amusing. I also know that alive is aparently a stretch after that ritual.

The not my name?!? Omg

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

tell me more about being maid of honour with best man Nathan Bateman… 👀

Warnings: Tipsiness, nudity, skinnydipping, Nathan being a flirty little shit

oh my god

this fucking guy

You've heard your friend's fiancé talk about him (and your ex, a tech-bro who practically lives in Elon Musk's jockstrap, also used to talk about him).

You don't meet him until the engagement party.

Nathan barely meets your eye until your friend tells him that you're the Maid of Honor, and then he offers, "Aw, cool. Best Man."

He shakes your hand, holds your gaze, and smiles.

"Hey if you need help, just, uh...Ask someone else."

Your friend and her fiancé laugh. Nathan grins like he'd just told the joke of the century.

You pull your hand from his in favor of going to the bar.

You'd done as he asked, leaning on the bride and groom's family and other friends to help you with the few wedding duties your friend asked your help with.

You're doing pretty damn well, too.

At least, you are until Nathan emailed the wedding party that he'd be flying everyone out to Vegas for the bachelor and bachelorette parties

He's be footing the bill for the hotel stay, too.

Fucking show off.

But when you board your flight and get seated in first class...Fuck, dude, you can't even be mad.

Look, he's kinda hot, alright?

And him leading the festivities for the weekend, lording his wealth and influence over you? Incredibly annoying.

But also kinda hot.

"You don't like me very much."

It isn't a question. Nathan just says it with matter-of-fact bluntness, eyes slightly glassy as he watches you from the other pool chair.

You turn back to the pool, pursing your lips. You're the only two left on the rooftop; the others went to bed at least half an hour ago.

You don't ask how many he's had; you know it's a few, but you don't think he's completely drunk.

"I'm the one doing all of the hard work," You sniff, "And you just swoop in like a frickin'...Guy who swoops and dazzle everybody."

"Including you?"

He's grinning as he asks, and you sigh, nodding grudgingly.

"Including me."

There's a moment of quiet between the two of you.

It's not dead-silent—not in the least. You can hear the honking of car horns on the streets below, and the shrieks and crows of partiers walking the strip. You watch the light lapping of the water against the sides of the pool.

"C'mon," You hear.

You look up to see Nathan standing. He wobbles a little before he draws his shirt off over his head.

"What?" You frown.

"You ever been skinny-dipping?"

You balk—at the question, and the wide grin on his face.

"What? No!"

"You've gotta release your inhibitions—feel the rain on your skin. Or the pool water. Whatever. C'mon," He nods you back toward the pool.

"It's the hotel's pool, Nathan," You point to the sign by the railing. "Skinny-dipping isn't allowed!"

"Do you always follow the fucking rules?"

He sounds so annoyed with you. He has no right—

"No wonder you're so boring," He adds, taking a couple more steps back.

Heat flares in your face. You shouldn't allow yourself to be taunted, or lured into a such a bad idea—

But you're already standing and trying to ignore the thrill that you feel as tug off your shirt and shove down your leggings.

Nathan grins, gaze sweeping your body as you near him, wearing your bra and underwear.

"All of it."

It's a little heavy on his tongue, bu he doesn't sound drunk—he sounds turned on.

You swallow thickly, confidence waning.

"You first," You deflect.

He chuckles and reaches down. Your eyes drop, watching him unfasten his pants, and then—

You're not prepared for the speed with which he shoves them down. Your mouth goes dry as you take in his entire body.

He kicks the shorts away with no shame before he nods to you. You reach back and find your fingers fumbling with the hooks on your bra. You'd typically be able to do this in a second, but goddamn, this man makes you nervous.

Before you can unfasten it, Nathan's front is pressed against yours, his fingers whispering against your back as he undoes the hooks. The cups hang limply around your breasts, straps sagging. You shiver, nose-to-nose with the man that's loosening you up.

His hand drifts down your side, fingers hooking in the waistline of your panties and giving them a tug.

"Those, too," He murmurs.

"Seems like you've already got a handle on them," You answer primly.

He just chuckles. Your body washes with heat as you shrug the bra off, flinging it toward where his pants were kicked. He lowers his gaze, openly oggling your chest.

When he begins to tow you back toward the pool, using the hold he has in your underwear, you follow step for step. He stills at the edge, fingers sweeping along your belly.

"I paid for this weekend, sweetheart. I'm not doing all the fuckin' work."

With that, he lets go, taking a step back and into the pool. You suck in a gasp, watching his disappear before he reappears, swiping the water from his eyes.

You hurriedly shove your panties down, kicking them away before you join him.

The water is cold, and as you bob back to the surface, you draw in a frigid gasp. It's like you've been snapped out of a waking dream.

"Oh, my—god, oh my god!" You shriek, turning and making for the steps of the pool.

Before you can get far, Nathan's arms curl around your middle, and he draws you back against him.

Your brows raise, mouth falling open as you feel his broad torso and hot, hardening cock. The feeling is so dissonant, so separate from the cool water lapping over your body.

"Already back to your fucking rules?"

It's a low, almost hypnotic murmur, coupled with a slow, teasing roll of his hips.

You hesitate before you shake your head, reaching back and pawing at Nathan's side. When he turns you, you find a darkness in his eyes.

His grin grows as he backs you up against the side of the pool, his tongue swiping along his lips.

Anyway, that's how you get caught making out with the best man and almost get the entire wedding party thrown out of the hotel.

[asshlyyyy]

One Last Goodbye

This one isn't long. It isn't meant to be long. I wrote this quite some time ago and I guess I never posted it. I hope you guys enjoy! I don't want to keep you any longer. There won't be a part two. This is a one off deal.

More posts are to come hopefully. I still need to finish Fairytale. I need to continue Personal Nurse. I need to continue Number Duex, and ah. Too much work and too much to do. It's a lot, but I want to write it.

I love you all. Thank you for being here with me!

Masterlist

Pairing: Elvis (or Austin!Elvis) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Spelling and Grammatical Errors Most Likely. Let me Know If I Miss Anything!

Word Count: 1k

“And, I-I-I-I-I I- I promise that I… I will always love you.” You pushed through the tears as you rocked yourself back and forth. You had a strong grip on his limp hand. “No matter where you go… I’ll be there.” You pressed on a forced smile as the hot tears ran down your face. Snot slipped out of your nose as god knows what flies into your mouth.

“I’ll always be by your side, Elvis.” You closed your eyes lightly as the beeping from the heart monitor got slower and slower. A continuous long beep sound indicated that… that he had died. You pressed your forehead against his hand and let out a sob.  

The man you have loved for ten years. The one who promised you everything in the world. He wasn’t around anymore and you had no idea what you were going to do. You didn’t know how you were going to handle it. You didn’t know anything. All you knew… all you knew is that you couldn’t handle this alone.

It wasn’t long before the nurses had to peel your body away. Cover him up with the bed sheets and user you out of the room. You could never see him again… you could never talk to him again. All this pain and sorrow… all you wanted to do was scream. And so you did. Well, that was after you left the hospital.

Out in the parking lot, you sat in one of Elvis’ cars. A loud scream emptied out your soul as you hit your head against the steering wheel. No one ever prepares you for the passing of a loved one. The passing of someone who quite literally saved your goddamn life. You couldn’t even repay him and save his own. If the choice was available, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

The drive home was even worse. The radio was silent. Your heart was empty and your mind was full. Your hands would twitch the wheel ever so slightly, but you couldn’t do that. As much as you wanted to turn the car into oncoming traffic, or push the pedal all the way to the floor, there was someone else. The one who had to pay. They didn’t want to die. You were the one who did. Just like what that person did to him. Your husband. Your Elvis Presley. 

You were in the car. The car slammed right into his side. Doctors claimed he was lucky he was even alive when he arrived at the hospital. But they knew… they knew that there was no recovery. No coming back from that injury. That was the last time you two spoke. That night you guys spoke about your future. The possibility of having kids. That one night, both your lives could’ve changed for the better, and yet it only got worse. 

You looked upwards to try to stop the tears but the loud sound of a horn broke you away. You slammed on the brakes and looked around. There you go, almost running a red light. Your bottom lip started to quiver once again and you felt the warm tears. You need to get out of here. You needed to call someone. Anyone. You weren’t in the right mind you just- you needed air.

You pushed open the door and got out quickly. A quick look and you knew where you were. The same intersection. The same… the same light. The same street names. You almost killed someone. You almost killed someone’s husband or wife… mother… father… sister, brother… the list goes on and on.

“Crazy lady! What the hell are you doing?! Move ya Fuckin’ car!” A person yelled at you. You held up a hand to indicate you needed a minute. You didn’t feel well. You didn’t feel good. Everything was spinning. Everything was- it was all blurry. You couldn’t tell if it was from the tears or simply because you were losing vision. You felt dizzy. You felt trapped. Your chest was tight. Everything- it was all- it was… 

You reached your hand out towards your car for support but only you missed. Your body fell limp and your head landed too hard. Blood poured out of the crack as the person who had just yelled at you ran toward you. He started to yell for help immediately. 

Well, your wish came true. Funny how you died due to yourself passing out and cracking your head open. You moved away from your limp body and watched the scene unfold. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Your body was shaking. You couldn’t believe it. Sure, you wanted to die, but you didn’t even know what to do now. 

You looked around and your eyes stopped on him. Tears once more flooded up your face and you ran towards him. You threw your wraps around him and gripped the back of his shirt.

“Doll,” he whispered and returned your embrace. You were sure he was disappointed in you, but this was something he couldn’t blame on you. In fact, he would blame the person behind you. The one who honked at you. The one who caused you to get out of the car. 

“Elvis,” you looked up at him and ran your hand against his face. You didn’t know what the afterlife was like, but you were happy you could be with your love. 

“This intersection hates us,” he commented. You let out a light laugh and pressed your lips against his. 

“It does,” you muttered against his lips. It was funny how life treated you two. You may not be able to have that life you two planned, but at least you were with him. That’s all you ever wanted. You just needed him by your side. Nothing more and nothing less. You were happy once again.

“Let’s get out of here.” He suggested as he grabbed your hand. The sirens filled both your ears as you walked away from the scene. You two were never going to come back here, that was for sure. You’ll probably go back home and figure out what’s going to happen now. 

Mutual Taglist: @darlinboypresley @emmymaehereeeeee @venus-haze @austinstyles

[blackbloodteeth]

"Y'know I really don't think you guys need to do this, actually-"

Soul winces as the obscured cultist to his left secures his restraints a little too tightly, the one on his right straightening him further upright in the funky ritual chair as the head honcho is approached by yet another obedient underling.

"I mean really, I think you've got the wrong guy!"

The cult leader, lifting up the received helmet – which looks a lot like a large seashell if it had a deathtrap of teeth in it – turns back towards him, speaking in the most casual matter-of-fact for someone leading a brainwashed army. "No, we're certain we finally found who we're looking for. Just sit still for a moment."

"I really rather'd not—" He feels his shoulders knot up while he tries to pull his head back as far away from the encroaching man and his death hat that he's very much hating how close is getting to his face now.

"Just accept its grace, and let it awaken you anew."

He swears he can actually feel himself sweating bullets when the underside of the teeth coming into direct view splay out to let loose about a bajillion fucked-up tongue things, leading Soul's next moments to be him pathetically attempting to squirm out from the chair he's tied to, a sudden and jarring sensation of having his forehead chewed on, and what felt like his brain being directly plugged into before everything goes completely dark.

And then he blinks.

Soul's standing now, arms held in front of him like he just took a drop off the stairs and somehow landed on just his feet. He's even looking around… somewhere. It's still pretty dark here, but with black and red checkerboard tile flooring, and thick red curtains draped around the walls, with the ceiling – oh nevermind, there is no ceiling. He won't be looking up again.

This somewhere feels almost familiar.

Taking a very cautious breath, he doesn't quite move yet while looking down at his hands – fingers still stretched outright to catch himself – and furrowing his eyebrows at the very nice, fancy striped black suit he's now wearing, contrasting red tie including. Damn, he's even got matching black shoes for this.

Before he even has the chance to make sense of any of this, or any of the this from directly beforehand (dream on, kiddo), he actually jumps a couple feet in the air like a goddamn cat or something when the sound of someone else's shoes step into vie- oh my god what the fuck is that. It's like if someone made a claymation little devil goatman but then dropped its face on the floor and-

"Okay, this is just cruel and unusual punishment." God even its voice is like if sandpaper and gravel had an ugly baby together- "Okay, okay, enough; I get it. This form is absolutely vile, can we move on from that for a minute."

Soul sputters. "You can hear my thoughts?"

"That, or the narration. Now can we please just get to the point already, this is bad enough as it is." The little devil runs its long, spindly fingers away from the dark mask around its eyes and over its red, bald little head with an exasperated sigh and then glares at him with its nonexistent pupils.

"I finally have someone compatible to be inside. You will now 'awaken' and have the entirety of a cult at your command, and eventually be the host for some old god to do whatever it wants with you as you gain unimaginable power over the world, and probably everything else. Sound good?"

Soul soon wins the record for most amount of blinks done in a second before throwing his hands out like tossing confetti. "What- No!"

"Exactly!"

He recoils as the little devil rips its fingers away from one of its bent horns and points at him. "It's all boring prophecy bullshit, and I don't even get a say in any of it! You're the one I'm stuck with now, so let's do something about it – Chaos, madness, the mariachi; Literally anything else!"

"I do like chaos," Soul nods in agreement.

"Fantastic. Let's fuck shit up, then."

His stare pauses at the freaky outstretched hand reaching up to him, its teeth that are just as sharp as his both grinning and grimacing until Soul shrugs and goes in for the handshake, the two of them now smiling like idiots as the demon then snaps its other fingers. He can clearly see the cultists raising their arms despite there being something over the top of his head, the grand announcing of the leader quickly fading into hearing.

"—kened! Release our new lord from his shackles!"

The weight around his body soon falls away, a truly deranged grin rising on his face as he booms out before anyone else can speak.

"Gentlemen –" A wave a murmurs startle around him as he shoots up onto his feet, the imagery of long, conniving fingers rubbing together as Soul then cracks his knuckles. "There's been a change of plans."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

The Sound of Silence

Prompt Day 3: Needing To Be Quiet | Word Count: 952 | Rating: T | CW: Post-Apocalyptic | Tags: Canon Divergence Post-S4, End of the World, Just the Two of Us, The World is Bleak, But We're Together

Set in the same little universe as my Miles to Go drabble but can totally stand alone.

They're walking down another abandoned road, in another abandoned state, and Eddie has lost all sense of where they are these days. It's been a while since they've seen a major city, and Eddie's inner compass has never been great, but it's worse now with no landmarks, and just empty road after empty road. Steve always seems to know where they're going, or if he doesn't, at least he acts like it. 

Eddie's about to ask where they are, when Steve stops in front of him and holds up his fist. 

Eddie immediately pauses behind him. Tries not to breathe, tries not to make any noise at all. Because he knows the system by now. At first all these hand gestures were foreign to him. Was he supposed to steal home or start doing the YMCA? Either seemed possible. 

He knew the hand signal for devil horns. And that's about it. Somehow, Steve hasn't worked those into their shorthand, yet.

But with time, he's learned to read Steve's body language like a goddamn book. He's Samwise, following his very own Frodo. 

And right now, Steve's telling him to stop. And if Steve's telling him to stop, he's also telling him to be quiet. That's been the hardest thing to learn, here, in the after. He can't just talk all the time. But he still wants to, all day long. He wants to tell Steve what he's thinking. He wants to narrate their journey, as they walk to god knows where. 

But he can't. Because it's not safe to make that much noise, not here in this horrible remainder of their world.

He doesn't know where they're going, anyway. 

Steve will think there are others, still out there somewhere else, for whatever reason, and they'll walk. 

And walk.

And walk.

But there never is. It's always just abandoned buildings, and the constant quiet. 

Do you know how quiet the world is when there is nobody else living in it? 

No cars. No stores. No nothing.

Hardly any birds, either. Eddie misses the sounds of the birds, the insects. But the wildlife has started to dwindle, if not outright disappear. Eddie doesn't know if the demodogs and demobats are thinning the herd, or if disease has just taken hold. It's hard to tell, honestly. In this world Vecna left for them. 

When Steve's hand falls slack, lowering to his side, Eddie knows that whatever Steve thought he heard is either gone, or never existed at all. So, Eddie hitches his backpack further up onto his back, and keeps walking. 

Keeps looking at the back of Steve Harrington's head, just like he did in more than one class he'd failed in high school. Steve's a natural leader. Eddie understands why he had followers back then. Why he was King Steve. This is a different situation, to be sure, but Steve took charge in this hellish world. 

And Eddie needed someone to take charge of this, because he wouldn't have made it this far on his own. No way in hell.

Looking at the back of Steve's head today, Eddie thinks Steve needs Eddie to give him a haircut again. But Eddie is hesitant to mention it. Because the last time he did, Steve just wanted him to shave it all off, but Eddie doesn't want that to happen. For some reason, Eddie feels like the day that Steve Harrington gives up on his hair, all hope is lost.

So, Eddie won't say a word. He'll be quiet. He needs that last bit of hope. That last thing, from a world destroyed.

Eddie is still walking, looking at his feet, when the clatter of wood on the road makes his heart race with fear. He looks up and Steve is picking his dropped nailbat up off the asphalt. Eddie reaches for the spear and trash can lid shield strapped across his back, but there's no need. Steve has control of his preferred weapon again, swinging it with precision. He smacks the demobat, sending it flying, then skittering across the abandoned highway. 

Steve's stock still.

Waiting. 

"Steve," Eddie whispers.

"Sshh," Steve whispers back, and Eddie stays quiet. Stays still. 

Waiting to see if it's still alive. Waiting to see if it brought friends.

It hasn't, it seems, and Steve digs in his backpack. Puts on his heavy leather gloves, and carefully walks towards the crumpled, gray mass. 

And just like he did on that dry lake bed, Steve steps on it, this time with his boot. 

Then he pulls it in half.

It's dead now, for sure. And Steve tosses the pieces into the ditch, takes his gloves back off, and walks towards Eddie. 

"I hit a home run with that one," Steve says with a grin, putting his gloves back away, and Eddie smiles at him. 

Steve looks tired, he always looks tired, but at least he's smiling. Eddie never takes that for granted, not these days. 

"You want to find somewhere to hole up for the night?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. He's always ready to hide out for a few hours. Resting. Sleeping in shifts. Or if they find somewhere that feels safe enough, which isn't all that often, sleeping at the same time. Curled against each other.

Instead of speaking, Eddie makes some random movements with his hands. Including pressing his palms together, laying his cheek on them, and closing his eyes. The universal sign for sleep.

Steve is shaking his head, amused, but he falls in step with Eddie. Beside him this time, not forging ahead. Strolling now, instead of leading the pack. 

Eddie reaches down and takes Steve's hand into his own, lacing their fingers together.

And Steve holds on tight.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my tag right here!