#sorry if any of these have bad meanings or anything

[writingwisterias]

Day 23: Praise Kink

ID! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Praise Kink, Training, Gun, Training room sex Masterlist

Of course, Leon had noticed your training had begun to slip, he was dragging himself to the shooting range with you every morning. No matter how hard he tried your score never increased. He could see your confidence slipping as the other recruits began to notice your low score. If he wanted to find you he was sure you were in the shooting range. You tried everything you could to get better and yet the more your confidence slipped so did your score. He could see the fire of ambition slowly die inside of you and decided enough was enough. 

He hated being awake so early, especially after he spent the night in some stupid bar he stumbled into. At least you were thankful for the extra attention he was offering. He saw you standing outside the door to the shooting range, two coffees held in your hands as you looked off into the distance. Your headphones looked like earmuffs over your head as you wrapped up warm to fight the winter chill. It was early enough the range would be empty, none of the agents assigned to training groups of recruits would be arriving any time soon, and the sky was still dark. Your frame is highlighted dimly with the street lamps. 

Your smile was brighter than any lingering stars as you saw him. Your sweater-covered hand holding out the hot drink to him. “I needed one so I thought you might as well” You spoke. He could hear your music as you pulled the headphones away from your head, they now hung around your neck. “Keep listening to music at that volume you won't need any ear protection when shooting” Leon teased. His heart fluttered at your shy smile blush coating your cheeks as your hands began rummaging your pockets for your phone to lower the volume.  

Easing into the training wasn’t the hard thing, it was just your aim. It was even worse than before everyone started teasing, Leon predicted the constant bullying from everyone else was a direct result. So instead of following the methods of all the other agents assigned to this task, he took a kinder approach. Hoping his praise and chilled-out attitude would help you relax and not overthink. It worked to his credit; your aim was improving and your score was slowly increasing. Yet your mind loved the extra attention Leon gave you, heart fluttering at every adjustment he would step closer to do. His rewarding words heading to other areas. 

You jumped slightly as he stepped closer to readjust your grip, his eyebrows pinching in confusion as his hands touched your hip. “You good? I didn’t mean to make you jump” Leon spoke. His breath tickled your neck causing you to flinch slightly, blush coating your cheeks as you felt bad for your reactions. You knew it was because you had woken up earlier than normal, your toy in your nightstand finding its purpose yet again after another dream of Leon fucking you. Having to face him after such a graphic dream was tough, his close proximity didn’t help either. 

“I’m good sorry, I don't know why I’m so jumpy today..must have been a dream I had” You half laughed. Leon clearly assumed it was a nightmare the way he nodded, silently agreeing with you. “I’m here if you want to talk about it. We have time before the others show up” 

He was too kind for his own good sometimes, his caring nature making him all the more alluring to him. You could have made up something, some random nightmare but Leon was smarter than that. He would have clocked on instantly. Instead, you chose the cheap side and said you didn’t want to talk about it. Leon just raised an eyebrow. 

“Our training sessions are a safe space for everything and anything…Do you trust me?” 

Your heart stuttered unable to think of a reply faster than the hot flush set in. “I do trust you…it’s just…just complicated” You muttered, your arms crossing over your chest as you met his gaze. You felt so small and shy like you were about to be scolded by a teacher. Once that was always nice to you and then you suddenly get into their bad books. “Complicated how?” Leon asked, his body now resting on the bench - nudging ammo out of the way to set his arms beside him. His hands looked so good, flexed over the edge of the table. His veins were now more prominent. They always looked well-kept. “Something on my hands?” he laughed meeting your eyeline. You broke out of your trance shaking your head. “No No, they just look good” 

“My hands?” 

God you were just making this worse. Digging yourself deep into a hole you weren’t sure you could get out of. Leon smirked, his teasing attitude written all over his face. He had already caught you out on your own lie, your body language speaking volumes over your words. Leon stood up, sauntering over to your stuttering form, his hands landing on your shoulders instantly calming you. “Do you ever relax?” He chuckled. Leon was so close, yet there was no gun in your hand. He was voluntarily in your space. “It’s hard to relax sometimes” You muttered back, hand rubbing the back of your neck nervously as you met his eyes. Leon chuckled, his face inches from yours. “Let me help you” 

He watched your features for any rejection, giving you time to process his request. His grin grew when he saw it, the subtle nod of your head. His lips were softer than you originally thought they would be as they landed on yours. They worked in sync perfectly with yours. His presence was dominating demanding control which you gladly gave him. Leon spun you around, walking you back towards the shelf he was just perched on. You worked on removing your leggings, whilst he focused on his trousers. The kiss never broke. 

He only broke it to hoist you up on the shelf, his body spreading your legs as he invaded your space. “You impressed me today. Seems our 1-1 time is working” 

Leon tasted like the coffee you had given him this morning mixed with the faint taste of whiskey he drank last night. It was intoxicating. Your tongue already craving more. His compliments melted your brain as his lips muttered them against your neck. Blemishes making themselves known with the sting he left behind. Leon sunk his cock inside of you with a groan. Your walls instantly welcome him, warming him. “Fuck..pretty girl having such a perfect cunt” He grunted as he began to move. 

He made sure you felt every inch, his hips pistoning inside you at such an insane speed. Leon’s hand gripped at your thighs, holding one over his hip as the other hand gripped at your head bringing you in for another kiss. Leon was bold and passionate with you. Worshipping every clench, moan or whimper you gave him as he continued to fuck you. “Such a good girl, I should reward you like this all the time and then maybe you’ll be the best agent there is” 

Your brain faltered at creating any form of a coherent response, the letters jumbling up as your head fell against his shoulder. His praise continued to tighten the coil in your stomach, almost ready to snap. “Be a good girl and cum before the others arrive, I want to feel it around my cock” 

He groaned loudly as you finally snapped, your cum instantly coating his cock coating his trousers. The forces of your orgasm caused his. He moaned as your legs tightened around him, trapping him inside as he coated your walls. “There's more if you break your record in front of the rest of them” 

“Seems like a worthy reward”

Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch

[blackbirdsblackberries]

You know, if they ever figure out MC whole identity. Tim is going to regret it so bad, that he won't even spill his hero identity as Red Robin. Especially, when Aranea says she doesn't like the Wayne's much. Either try to convince she should like the Waynes or hide their civilian identities even more. Like, it's funny that after her reveal, she won't go near Batman, cuz she knows he's Bruce Wayne. Like, amicable as co-workers, but that's it. And with reveal that she has a not good home life, and hating Aranea, was this her way of being self loathing (is what the Batfam, or atleast Tim thinks).

Also, brrruuuuuhhhhhh to Stephanie. Like instead of calling 911, she records it? Wow, she is on my shit list. Also, everyone is on thin ice. Heck, they ain't even on ice they are in the cold ass water of the North North America's. Only Duke (and maybe Cass) are on the ice, the rest fucking drowns.

I'm wondering how the reveal of MC being Aranea will go. Is it through the diaries that Tim snatched? Or through the blood test? Or something bad that a face reveal has to happen.

Sorry I haven't answered this ask for so long, I keep meaning to but get distracted!! 😭

Once Tim finds out he'd go one of two ways:

1. He'd hide any and all traces of him being associated with the family, who cares about the others, that's their problem.

2. He'd delude himself into thinking you'll change your opinion once you know his identity. After all, you guys are a great duo on missions!!

Batman is kicking rocks and cursing like a sailor when he finds out. Especially when you distance yourself from them - from him.

Jason is throwing punches at your parents abusers. Dont worry, Batman will turn a blind eye to roughing them up.. two less bad people won't change anything 😙

My girl Stephanie needed that content 🙏🏻😭

It's like when you watch a video of some stranger getting beaten up and you're like "Woah! That's crazy.." then scroll

All of them are so far in the ice cold water they ended up in hell (AND THEY'RE STILL SINKING)

Don't have much hope for Cass and judging by everyone's reactions to others Duke will be on the top of your shit list!

[allthingsfangirl101]

Bother Me – Glen Powell

I knocked on his door and nervously waited. I shook my head when I realized I was always doing this. Whenever something goes wrong or needs fixing in my apartment, I go to my neighbor, Glen Powell.

Back when I first moved in next door to Glen, he wasn't a big actor yet. He'd had smaller roles but nothing that made him noticed. We became friends in the laundry room when I asked to borrow one of his dryer sheets. We ran into each other a week later and I gave him a dryer sheet to pay him back. We quickly found that we always do laundry on the same night.

"Hey, Y/N," Glen smiled as he opened his door. "What's up?"

"Sorry to bother you," I sighed, "but I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"Anything."

"One of the light bulbs in my fan is out and I can't get the cover off," I explained.

"Easy," he smiled. He left his apartment and followed me back to my apartment. I showed him what fan I was talking about and watched as he removed the cover, changed the light bulb, and put the cover back on.

"Thanks for doing this, Glen," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I swear I'm not as helpless as I come off."

"You're not helpless," he said gently as he climbed down the ladder.

"I come to you all the time for stupid little things," I shrugged. "I bet it's annoying."

"It's not," he said gently. "I really don't mind coming over to help you."

"If it ever gets annoying, please let me know."

I gasped when he leaned in and kissed my cheek. "I will never have to because it will never get annoying."

* * * * *

Even though Glen tried to reassure me that my always asking him for help wasn't annoying, I was still insecure about it. So, I refused to ask him for help. It lasted a week before I eventually did need his help.

I searched through my bag, saying several swear words under my breath as I tried to remember where I put my keys.

"Everything okay, Y/N?" I jumped, instantly making Glen feel bad. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's not you," I sighed. "It's just. . . It's been a day and I'm pretty sure I either left my keys in my desk at work or on the table right on the other side of this door."

"Well," he smiled, "good news is that you gave me your spare key last year. Give me one second to pop into my place and I'll grab it."

As we ran into his apartment, I wrapped my arms around myself. He quickly came back and smiled at me before unlocking my door.

"Your home, madam," he said, jokingly opening the door for me.

"Thank you," I sighed. "Seriously, Glen. Thank you."

I walked into my apartment and instantly found my keys right on the small table I have by the door.

"And here they are. Right by the door," I sighed as I grabbed them. I turned back toward Glen, my face burning. "I'm really sorry, Glen. I don't know why I'm so helpless."

"It's okay," he smiled. I swear, this guy is always smiling. "I already told you; I don't mind."

"But I do," I mumbled. I looked up to see him studying me. I cleared my throat before saying, "Thanks again, Glen. I won't keep you from your Friday night plans."

I sent him a smile before closing the door. Right as I closed the door, I heard him mumble, "I didn't have any plans."

* * * * *

A few hours later, I started making cookies for my book club tomorrow night but I didn't check if I had all my ingredients. When I grabbed the salt, I instantly groaned. My first thought should've been to run to the small grocery store around the corner but it wasn't. My first thought was to ask Glen.

I couldn't help but fix my shirt before leaving my apartment and heading to Glen's. I held my breath as I waited for him to open the door.

"Hey, Y/N," he smiled instantly.

"Sorry to bother you. . . Again, but I was wondering if. . ."

"Bother me."

"What?"

"Bother me," he repeated. "I love it when you bother me. It never bothers me."

I smiled when he cringed at how cheezy that sounded. But I loved it.

"I just mean," he tried to save himself, "that I like that you need me. It's been a while since someone has needed me."

"It's been a while since I've trusted someone enough to need them," I said, my voice soft. Glen smiled as he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I do," I whispered back. He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. As I kissed him back, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He instantly wrapped his arms around my waist.

"You needed something," Glen said, breaking the kiss.

"Oh," I said, my voice still soft. "Right. Um, I was going to see if you had any salt."

"I do," he chuckled. "What are you making?"

"Cookies for my book club," I explained, my face turning slightly pink.

"That's fun," he said, reaching up and moving some hair out of my face. "You need an extra pair of hands?"

"I could use some help," I shrugged. I grabbed his hand and started pulling him to my apartment. He pulled back, turning me around. I started to ask what was wrong but his smile reassured me.

"We forgot the salt," he chuckled. He gave me a quick kiss before jogging back into his apartment.

I took a shaky breath as I waited. My mind went all over the place as I thought about what this could mean for us. We officially weren't just neighbors anymore. . . Right?

"You okay?"

I hadn't noticed him come back. "Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "Just. . . overthinking."

"Overthinking?" He asked, his smile dropping. "About what, gorgeous?"

"Us?"

As soon as that word left my lips, I was worried about his reaction. Instead of getting angry or hurt, Glen took a step closer to me. He leaned in and gave me a slow and soft kiss. We broke the kiss, both of us out of breath. He leaned his forehead against mine as I anxiously waited for him to say something.

"There is nothing to overthink about us, Y/N," he whispered. "I have been obsessed with you since we first met. I want to give this a try."

"Really?" I asked as I leaned back.

"Really," he smiled. He chuckled before adding, "I should be honest with you. I only did my laundry on Thursdays that first night we met. I went back the next week, hoping to run into you again. When you told me you do laundry every Thursday night, I started doing mine every Thursday. And not that I've said that out loud, I realize how creepy and stalkerish that is."

"No, it's not," I smiled. "It's extremely sweet."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, stood on my toes, and kissed him. He smiled against my lips as he held me close to him. We broke apart with small giggles when we heard the oven in my apartment beep.

"Sorry to bother you," I said softly, "but any chance you can help me make cookies for my book club?"

[genderqueerdykes]

hi so im sorry if this is rude or anything im just kinda confused ab some things. so one of the posts on this blog mentions that if you hate trans men then your transphobic, which i agree with, but does it mean in the sense of if you say you hate all men (including trans men) that makes you transphobic? (typing that out makes me realize how stupid it is 😓) and also a post was speaking ab terfs and it said smthing along the lines of ‘trans men can be lesbian’ and maybe I dont get it but if trans men are men how can they be lesbians if the meaning of being a lesbian is wlw/nblnb (i think thats the right one)?

pls don’t feel like you need to answer or anything, and thanks if you do. have a good day!

hello!

it is still transphobic, yes. this is also antimasculism. saying that you hate all men affects, well... all men. and that includes other queer men, too. men are not a cishet monolith, and it's not good to hate random cishet men, either. the gender of "man" did not hurt you. specific men hurt you. hating and hiding from a gender pathologically will not keep you safe from harm. women can hurt you. non binary people can hurt you. profiling strangers especially gets dangerous because you are assuming things about them. you can't tell if a stranger in public is a cishet man or not just by looking at them. they could be a trans man, a non binary person, a genderfluid person, a closeted/boymoding trans woman, and so on.

manhood is not bad. it's not something dangerous or scary. behaving this way perpetuates the idea that men can never change or improve or try to do better. forcing them into a box of "Disgusting, vile, must be hated" will only make shitty behaviors worse, because this is reinforcing that they can't ever get better, so why bother? might as well keep doing the same shitty things

men can be lesbians, there's no rules. lesbian does not mean woman. anyone of any gender can be a lesbian. many trans men start out in the lesbian community and wish to stay there because we never lose that part of ourselves. many trans men just are lesbians regardless. i honestly highly recommend talking to the butch community and just transmascs in general because i feel like people who assume that it "doesn't make sense" literally just... have not talked to more than a small handful of transmascs

like, my honest suggestion is to just gain exposure to the butch and lesbian communities outside of white cis gender conforming femme lesbians if you're curious about this experience, because it's so common that if you're in a queer space you basically can't throw a rock without hitting a transmasc lesbian somewhere in the process. anyone of any gender can be a lesbian or gay. many trans women start off in the gay community and still identify as gay men ever after realizing they're also trans women. this phenomenon exists in other communities.

people are just needlessly fixated on trans men being lesbians because "oh no! men are so dangerous to the poor defenseless women!!!!!! they can't protect themselves we have to ban everyone and anyone who looks even slightly masc!!!! soft butches ONLY we don't want any masculine people around here they're too scary!!!!!!" that feeling in your brain that tells you that trans men can't be lesbians is a cop, and you're allowed to kill it.

hope that helps! take care!

[lockes-woods]

10; Shelter in Place

!!!!!!!MDNI!!!!!!

Request: Here's my obligatory Mishanks (Sir, Daddy) request. It's not very exiting I know but I do love how you write them. A/ B/O dynamics heat, snowed in. I think i got everything. I’m looking forward to all your amazing stories. 💛

Requested by: @nocturnalrorobin

A/N: This kinda fully got away from me. The rest of the one-shots in this series will probably be around 1,500 - 2,000 words max. I think I'm so used to writing his pairing for Stuck that I was using chapter pacing instead of one-shot pacing.

WARNINGS: Anal, PIV, MxFxM, Threesome, A/B/O, Knotting, Snowed in, Smut, Heat/Ruts, Sir kink, Daddy kink, dp, creampie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-It’s the season’s first proper nor'easter and most likely the last one before the new year and it is a is a doozy! Northern winds have pushed the storm south at a breakneck pace. Those situated in any of the red and orange zones shown behind me on the map have been directed to shelter in place as the storm is scheduled to hit within the next hour.” Shanks clicked off of the news channel as the host transitioned from weather into a puff piece on dog safety during the winter.

“Well, it looks like we got an extension on our vacation,” Shanks said, he wasn’t wrong, your location sat right dab in the middle of the red zone.

“It’s supposed to be a record amount of accumulation,” Mihawk started reading off his phone, “I’d be surprised if we’re able to leave any time this weekend.”

“You won’t get in trouble at work, will you?” Shanks asked as the couple turned their attention to you.

“No,” you said shaking your head, “I cashed in all my vacation time. I’m not scheduled to be back until the 1st.”

“Okay, good,” Shanks nodded, “We should be fine on food and water. I’m only concerned about our access to firewood during the storm. I’m gonna bring in as much as I can before it truly starts to come down.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mihawk agreed, “This is some vacation, we came to ski and in turn roped you into being marooned with us.”

“Oh, no,” you joked, “How will I ever cope with getting to spend a few extra days with my closest friends.”

“Still, we should have been better at looking for the projected forecast; sorry Sunshine.”  Shanks said as he slipped on his jacket, before moving to put on his snow boots.

“Shanks it’s fine, really. We have a few more days together and I get to be doted on by two capable alphas,” you said with a smile, “I mean who would pass up that up?”

“We do not dote on you,” Shanks said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh? And who threw a fit when they found out I forgot my gloves at home?” You asked, teasingly.

“It’s below freezing! You could have gotten frostbite.” Shanks argued.

“I was going to buy a pair at the resort! How was I gonna get frostbite in the less than five minutes I would have been outside getting to the car and from the car to the resort?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“Something else could have gone wrong.” Mihawk started in Shanks’s defense.

“Really Mihawk? I know it’s natural for you guys to want to care for me because of my secondary gender and all, but I’m not made of glass.” You said, rolling your eyes, “I swear I can’t tell if you’ve both gotten better or worse since college when it comes to taking care of me.”

“I feel like we’ve gotten better,” Shanks argued.

“I mean it’s not like either of you set a particularly high bar. Anything’s better than when you used to growl whenever another alpha got near me during my pre-heat.” You said, shaking your head.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing; you know we were only doing that because we care for you.” Shanks argued.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied reluctantly, “I love you guys too, but it definitely hasn’t helped me try to find a mate. One of those alphas could have been it.”

“If our growling was enough to persuade them then they weren’t good enough for you,” Mihawk dismissed.

“Still, not all of us are lucky enough to find a mate that young. I mean fuck you both committed to each other by the time Shanks, and I graduated.” You pointed out to the older alpha, “Some of us are out here having to rely on heathub to get through our primal spells.”

“You’re not going to find a mate on heathub,” Shanks said, “Plus what’s your rush? It’s only been a few years since we graduated.”

“That’s not the point, I’m just saying you’re both very lucky. I barely have time to date in my free time. Which leaves heathub as my only option during my heats.” You sigh, “Speaking of my heat I’m gonna go take my suppressants.”

“Alright,” Shanks nodded, “I’m gonna work on the wood.”

“I’ll join you.” Mihawk said, grabbing his coat. You quickly retreat to the guest bedroom not liking the old emotions coming up with the way the conversation was heading. You took some calming breaths as you opened up your bag. You blinked away tears as you felt around for your suppressant bottle. You knew it wasn’t their fault for making you feel this way but fuck how were you supposed to cope with being in love with two of your closest friends. As much as it pained you to not act on your feelings you knew it would exponentially be worse to lose them all together.

You took one last deep breath before zoning back in at the task at hand. You furrowed your eyebrows as you felt around your bag still not touching anything remotely bottle-shaped. You had finished off a bottle the day before, but you always packed extra. Especially when you were going to be around either alpha, you had always been extra sensitive to their scents. To the point that when you were roommates you were sent into an early heat just by smelling the faintest whiff of their scent during their rut. You could feel your pulse spike as you turned over your bag and frantically shook out all of its contents. It needed to be here. Scratch that it had to be here. It had already been a little over 24 hours since you took the last pill, meaning that there was most likely none of it remaining in your system. Your breath turned sporadic as you cleared out all your clothing to the side along with your toiletries. Desperate, you picked up the bag and looked in every nook and cranny of each pocket hoping against hope that you missed it during your first pass.

You were in such a frenzy you hadn’t even noticed the souring of your scent as you went into the hallway to the bathroom to make sure you hadn’t just left it in there the night before. After giving the bathroom, a once over and finding nothing anxiety set in. Your breathing turned erratic. You had no idea how to cope. You were stuck here for the next 24-36 hours before the roads would be drivable again. You were so in your head that you hadn’t noticed the loud steps rushing towards you. You were in a blind panic. You could feel yourself becoming lightheaded one moment, to the next being held in Shanks’s arms. You took a deep breath of Mihawk’s earthy scent as you began to calm down.

“I’m sorry, fuck I’m so sorry,” You choked out, as your breathing began to even out again.

“Shh, it’s okay baby.” Shanks said, cupping your face and wiping away your tears. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until his calloused hands glided across your cheeks. You took a few more deep breaths as you felt yourself coming down to earth. Through your tears, you could just make out a concerned Mihawk hovering over Shanks’s shoulder.

“There we go,” Shanks said smiling down at you as your breathing finally evened out.

“Are you okay sunshine?” Mihawk asked. You swallowed a cry from deep in your throat as you blinked back tears threatening to spill again.

“I’m s-sorry,” is all you could make out.

“Baby, I’m sure whatever happened we can get through,” Shanks said, looking down at you with an emotion you couldn’t place.

“What has got you all riled up?” Mihawk asked.

“I-my I’m out of suppressants.” You manage to just spit out before your breathing begins to ramp up again. Shanks and Mihawk shared a look over his shoulder as you began to nervously ramble, “I’ll stay in my room. We could maybe barricade it? I could put the dresser in front of the door-”

You were cut off mid-sentence by Shanks’s warm, slightly chapped lips pressing against yours. Your eyes widened, as he slipped his hand behind your neck and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. It felt like your brain turned off as your eyes fluttered shut. You opened your mouth unprompted, letting the alpha dominate the kiss. A whine keened in your throat as he delicately pulled away.

“I-I” you stuttered as your brain began to buffer.

“I think you broke her,” Mihawk said jokingly, maintaining his monotone voice.

“W-what, why-” you started, still processing, “I’m sorry-” you started heading down a void of existential crisis; not being able to process what you never thought was an option.

“Shh it’s okay love,” Shanks reassured, gently, “We’re not mad.”

“What- but, I might trigger your ruts,” you said, still processing the situation.

“Darling, that’s okay,” Mihawk said, in a calming tone, “If anything this is a blessing in disguise.”

“A blessing?” you asked.

“We love you, baby,” Shanks said, explaining slowly as you began to truly understand the situation.

“But you’re married and mated. Why-,” you started.

“Love, we’ve been pining after you for a while now,” Mihawk cut you off, “We’d love to get you through your heat. That is if you’ll have us.”

“But, why now? How long-”

“Long,” Mihawk said, answering the unasked question.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked.

“We were too scared of losing you to make a move,” Shanks explained. You nodded understandingly as everything finally began to click in place for you.

“Would this just be a one-time thing?” you asked.

“No,”

“Fuck I hope not,”

Mihawk and Shanks replied simultaneously. You laughed at Shanks’s response, while Mihawk gave him side-eye. Your laughter was cut off by a sudden spark in your core, you suddenly felt very warm, as you clenched around nothing. The sole need of wanting to be filled floating to the surface. You bit your lip looking up at the two alphas, the tone in the room shifting as their eyes locked with your hooded ones.

“Alpha,” you said looking up between them, any lingering nerves long gone as your inner desire surfaced. The next few minutes were a blur as you were corralled into the master bedroom, sharing needy kisses while the couple took turns undressing you. You suddenly found yourself naked in between the fully dressed alphas. All you could do was whine as you ground against each of their clothed erections. You moaned at their size, too far gone to question how either, let alone both of them fit.

“Fuck, daddy please,” you begged as Shanks kissed over your sensitive neck. He honed in on that spot sucking and nipping at it until a sizeable hickey formed. You could feel him throb against your backside.

“How’d did you know to call him that?” Mihawk questioned, tilting your chin up to force eye contact.

“Thin wall,” you panted.

“Is that right?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “yes, sir.”

Mihawk’s eyes sharpen at your claim of him as ‘sir’, he quickly tugged off his shirt before once again pulling you in for a desperate kiss. All you could do was moan into the kiss, your nipples rubbing against his chest, already hard from the drafty air.

“Fuck,” Shanks groaned behind you, “How do you want us love?”

“In me,” you begged, gasping for air as you pulled away from Mihawk’s lips.

“No which one of us baby,” Shanks clarified.

“I want both,” you whined.

“Darling there’s no way we’ll both fit in your pussy,” Mihawk soothed, attempting to stifle a groan at the feeling of your slick soaking through his trousers.

“Please,” you whine, “I want both my holes filled,”

“Have you ever done anal?” Shanks asked, needing your ass.

“Yes,” you gasped as Mihawk slipped his hand between your thighs, immediately finding and rubbing your clit.

“Do we need condoms?” Mihawk questioned.

“Mhm, no,” you whined, “I have the implant.”

“Fuck,” Shanks groaned taking in the sight of your wet pussy after Mihawk knocked your thigh apart for better access.

“There’s so much slick, I don’t think we need any lube,” Shanks said in awe, “Do all omegas produce this much slick, or is our baby special?”

You whine, burrowing your face into Mihawk’s shoulder as they talk about you like you aren’t sandwiched between them.

“Fuck, I haven’t fucked an omega in a while, but even in heat this is a lot.” Mihawk forced out, freeing his cock from his pants.

“I wanna taste; is that okay baby?” Shanks asked playfully, “It looks like you have plenty to go around.”

“Do be careful not to drown in it, that pool of slick’s big enough to warrant a lifeguard.” Mihawk teased, rubbing his cock up and down your slit. Shanks moaned unabashedly at the taste of your slick.

“Fuck, she’s as sweet as she looks,” he groaned, collecting a decent amount of slick on his finger tops before he began to tease your asshole. You needily ground back against his digits as Mihawk teased the head of his cock at your entrance. You rocked back and forth as their movements sped up. You were a moaning mess as you were manhandled, bouncing on and off their cocks. Your mind went blank as your orgasm crashed through you without warning.

“Fuck, where do you want us baby?” Shanks gasped out at your tightening walls.

“In me please daddy. Fuck please daddy I’ll be such a good girl.” You begged as overstimulation started to build. Shanks shot off first, collapsing against your back as his knot catches your entrance. You both moaned as Mihawk pressed on. Overstimulated tears kissing the corners of your eyes as he used you to get off. Just as you turned the corner of pain to pleasure Mihawk’s thrust began to get sloppy. He reached between you and began to stimulate your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. He held on just long enough to trigger another orgasm. Shanks whimpered in your ear as you once again clenched down on his spent cock. The three of you fell down on the bed in a connected pile of lust and years of repressed feelings.

There was no question if you were warm enough as your heat fully took over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

[spyres]

bootleg pokemon advent calender review

so my mom got me this pokemon-themed advent calender filled with a bunch of bootleg figurines earlier this month and i opened the first door at the time but i completely forgot about it until now. so with it being christmas eve i thought it would be fun to go through each figurine for funsies because i'm utterly fascinated with what i got.

day one: muk

this was the only one i had knowledge of throughout the entire month. at first i was thinking "well if you look at it as muk's shiny then it could be passable" before remembering that muk's shiny is green and not blue. regardless, congrats to muk on the blue goo and pronouns. 3/10

day two: reuniclus

i can never spell this damn thing's name. i was pleasantly surprised to see reuniverse though, as it was evident that this calender wasn't going to just be filled with gen one pokemon like i suspected. gen five was actually tied with gen one for the most figurines with six, surpringly! unfortunately there's nothing after gen six though, not even any regional variants.

back to reunicorn, this is definitely on the higher end just for being the correct colour lmao. the bottom part of reunionize does not look like that though. 8/10

day three: clefairy

one of the better figurines for sure! while it's still evidently of bootleg quality, it could feasibly pass as official just for being the correct colours. her doing the little metronome dance from the anime in her posing is a nice touch too! 9/10

day four: tyrunt

oh my god they poured tar on him. why are his eyes soulless. he looks possessed. this makes me sad i don't like this one. 2/10

day five: dedenne

she's a little confused but she's got the spirit, i think. needs to be more orange but i guess looking like you're made of cheese is fitting for a mouse-like creature. 6/10

day six: miltank

ohhh i really hate this thing. i'm not a miltank hater by any means but this one looks gross and mouldy to me. girl go have a bath. 1/10

day seven: arbok

WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY GIRL!!!!!! SHE'S FUCKING NAKED!!!!!! sure they got the colour right but they stole her patterns!!! her most stunning feature!!!!!! she was proud of those patterns!!!! AND THEY STOLE THEM FROM HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hatred and anger/10

day eight: primeape

i don't want to make any comments about the eyes since i don't have strabismus, but i like that they kept his anger. the personality still manages to shine through here. the rest of the figurine is just. whatever. not the worst but not the best just completely average. 5/10

day nine: pansage

sorry the picture is ass i don't want to retake it lol. confession: while i don't really have any strong opinions on the elemental monkeys compared to a lot of fans, i do have a bit of a soft spot for pansage because i think he's adorable. rewatching the bw anime a few years back awoke that in me, and i think this one is pretty cute too! something about the :3 face just gets to me. despite missing its cream colouring, i think one is pretty solid overall! 7/10

day ten: victini

behold the extremely rare and powerful mythical pokemon victini! truly a marvel to witness! anyway i don't like that it's missing its teeth but it's okay i guess. 4/10

day eleven:

i don't really have much to say on this one tbh? i like that they gave it a stand since it would just fall over with those stubby little legs i guess but i just. don't see anything to really talk about here. 3/10

day twelve: grumpig

not as soulless-looking as tyrunt was, and maybe it's helped partially by grumpig already having some dark grey in its usual colour scheme so it doesn't look thaaat unusual, but it's still not a good one. 3/10

day thirteen: slowking

gives me the same gross and mouldy vibes as miltank but not as bad i think. i like the pose. i don't think i've ever seen slowking cross its arms like that in any official pokemon media or merch so there's some points for uniqueness. 4/10

day fourteen: darumaka

my son murngus who i fed a ball. i love this thing. this is peak. we're never getting any better than this. tpci should make this official merch. love and peace/10

day fifteen: swirlix

this is my daughter white boy. while i have criticisms with the lumps being too pronounced (they should be softer and more subtle imo) and the lack of feet, i honestly kinda love this one? it reminds me of those pathetic white dogs that look like they'll fall over if you breathe on them too hard, and while the big bumps don't give the image of candy floss like they're supposed to, this reminds me of a cloud in a way, which is still lovely to think about. 9/10

day sixteen: beartic

who hurt you beartic. the colours are right at least but. the face. 3/10

days seventeen, eighteen and nineteen: croconaw, totodile, feraligatr

i got the whole family one after another so might as well cover them together.

croconaw: the sniler...... croconaw manages to be the definition of both creepy AND wet here. it's unsettling a little bit but it gives it some personality. 6/10

totodile: i do not like that mouth whatsoever. what the fuck. 2/10

feraligatr: i have to question why feraligatr is a slightly different shade of blue than its younger siblings but that's neither here nor there. it's alright but the eyes are a bit unnerving to me. 4/10

day twenty: chimchar

the only gen four pokemon of the batch, which is sad for me as a gen four fan. it's fine but this one lacks chimchar's signature flame tail. unfortunate since chimchar canonically farting out fire is a key characteristic to me. 5/10

day twenty one: gothitelle

i look like this irl. not really much to complain about with this one side from the lack of a mouth and the face being white rather than purple. i like the complete and utter torment in her eyes. i could fix her fr. 7/10

day twenty two: grovyle

dedicating this one to my fellow pmd fans! they fucking peeled our lad!! the pose is kinda cool though. 6/10

day twenty three: aurorus

this one is a falls into the category of ugly cute to me. they used the wrong shade of blue but it's still fine imo. i simultaneously like the eyes but also don't like them. i'm very conflicted on how i feel about the finer details of this one but it's okay overall imo. 6/10

day twenty four: psyduck

ngl i was kinda hoping for something special for the last one. maybe delibird to go with it being for christmas, or another legendary/mythical, but i've been rewatching the anime again recently and they are so fucking mean to misty's psyduck that it's borderline unpleasant to watch at times, so you know what? psyduck deserves this.

it's pretty alright for a bootleg too. they got all the colours and key details right, even if it's rather shoddy, so i'll be generous with this one. 9/10

if you read all of this then thank you for joining me on this journey. i'm so glad i spent christmas eve deciding to review shitty knock-off pokemon merch rather than celebrating with my friends and family. and i'm very sorry that i released these beasts from their prison and have made them everyone else's problem now.

[crimeronan]

Okay, catching up on your posts, about that snippet you posted with devins first kill- I think what's so haunting about it to me is how kind the old lady seems. Being genuinely helpful and willing to assist at first, having kind mannerisms and genuinely giving off the impression that she's really sweet. As the piece went on I started to believe when Devin said she wasn't in danger, because why would she be? She's a sweet old lady eager to help. And Devin, in turn, genuinely appreciates her kindness. She's lying a lot in the convo but her appreciation of her kindness towards her seems startling sincere. They're both being pleasant and nice- and Devin continues to be so even when the ruse is up, calm and collected and kind to her, not at all angry and vengeful like I would imagine. Its... unsettling. That this old woman was kind to her and it wasn't a ruse, it wasn't a lie, it was just genuine kindness. Even though, if I'm reading the implications right, she caused the deaths of countless children. This is not a monster; this is a kind old lady who's first instinct is to help, not to manipulate, but just to help. And yet she is also a monster. And Devin... she knows this. She knew this from the start. She is weighing the value of her life the whole time they speak, the whole time she's pleasant to her. And her appreciation for her kindness also isn't a lie; her thoughts make that clear. She considers calmly whether to let her go. She acknowledges that killing her serves no purpose; she's already retired, so she's no longer hurting anyone, there's no justice or honor in killing her. There's no reason to, except that it might make her feel better. And she's so calm when weighing it all. Weighing her life. She appreciated her kindness genuinely, she thought of letting her go, but... she killed her anyway. I'm new to your oc posts so sorry if I got anything wrong (am especially nervous on whether I got Devins pronouns right, but you refer to her as she, right? Sorry if I'm wrong about that), but that snippet was genuinely unsettling and haunting. Somehow... the most scary part of it was the kindness. The startling reminder that monsters are human, too—that they can be kind, and it not be a lie, kind to a stranger for no other reason except wanting to help. That's terrifying to me.

MMMMMM, YEAH. YEAH YEAH YEAH.

(and yes on devin's pronouns! devin uses she/they/he in order of preference. "he" isn't exactly Wrong, but as i've written her more, it's become more and more the kind of answer that's only correct on a technicality.)

the only correction i'd make is that maddie wasn't Directly responsible for countless child deaths..... she was, however, responsible for countless cases of child slavery. proponents of the system would argue it's not slavery, because the children are provided for and have their needs met and just have to work for the light temples until they die or get rich enough to buy out, with basically no legal recourse in cases of abuse. "how is that NOT slavery" because slavery sounds icky :( don't be mean it makes the government feel bad :(

in many ways, though, moira Was a child sacrifice. that's why maddie responds so strongly to her name. maddie truly can't remember every kid whose life she ruined, but moira was different!

one of the biggest driving forces and themes for me in this project is exactly what you said: that people can be both monsters and very kind at the same time. a lot of power fantasy vengeance media reduces its villains to two-dimensional strawmen that are disposable. they're easy to kill. the audience doesn't have any complicated feelings about their deaths.

and people just. aren't like that in real life. they can be selfish and cruel and manipulative, they can be abusive, they can commit atrocities, and at the end of the day, they still have things they love. i'm sure the united healthcare CEO loved and doted on his kids, which is why the media keeps calling him a "father of two" to try to stir up empathy. someone who loves his kids can't be bad, right?

or there's a throwaway bit in an episode of succession where some rich people are making jokes about the impending collapse of society, and a little girl asks about it, and one of them tells her, don't worry, you'll get to live in my bunker :) it's not your problem :)

(or something to that effect.)

maddie loves her grandkids. devin implies she's casually racist (and is probably right), but maddie is still sweet and kind to her. she's not a hateful woman! she loves birds and her rooftop garden and her family. she loves doing nice things for her neighborhood and making people happy. she'll go out of her way to help devin pull records to find a lost family member. she's probably already DONE that for the family or friends of other children she trafficked.

she doesn't see anything wrong with what she did. the government said it was okay, and she was keeping kids from dying impoverished on the streets! she was giving them another chance at life! "would you want that life for your grandkids??" is an irrelevant question, because she worked to save enough money for her grandkids so they'd never be in such a situation, so she doesn't have to think about it. she's kind! she's trusting! she's never even committed a crime!

"people are largely well-intentioned at heart" and "people can be unspeakably selfish and evil IF you promise them it's not selfish or evil" are two things that coexist, imo. it's something you have to get comfortable with if you do irl activism of any kind, too. particularly with any Undesirable marginalized group.

living in portland in america is very interesting sometimes. the people here consider themselves MUCH more politically leftist than the average american -- and indeed, they tend to oppose war, imperialism, racism, homophobia, and transphobia. at least when they're talking about their beliefs. people here are nicer than any other place i've ever visited in america!

they are also willing to unperson thousands of unhoused people and Fervently wish unimaginable cruelty, violence, brutality, and horror upon them. not only willing to WISH it, but also to Passionately Advocate For It in government meetings and in court. desiring this cruelty is socially acceptable & so the people who do so will never consider themselves monstrous. they will be hurt and sad and angry if you tell them it's monstrous.

maddie was a good mom and a good grandma. maddie bore no ill will toward the kids she sold. in fact, maddie's trustworthy demeanor and kindness might be why she was so successful at her job in the first place. because kids who were hurt and scared and alone were told she could rescue them, and they believed her.

monsters don't look like monsters. people have always been people. if we told the truth about what monstrosity is really like, we'd have to admit how many of our friends and neighbors and families and we ourselves are monstrous.

apathy is a political stance.

[dragonfly0808]

Is There Anything so Undoing as a Daughter?

So, I just finished watching Arcane a bit back and I absolutely love the dynamic between Silco and Jinx and was kinda disappointed we didn’t get to see any flashbacks of them in s2.

They didn’t have the healthiest of dynamics but I still found it so interesting and gratifying to see that Silco really did care and love Jinx even if his actions weren’t always the best for her.

So, I decided to write a bunch of little moments of theirs over the years, how they became father and daughter, how Powder became Jinx, how Silco’s goons survived Jinx’s menace behavior and more!

some are more funny some more heartfelt some more tragic

I’ll include on this post what is up until now my fave chapter and the link to the story on AO3

The Bomb Thing

(How Jinx finally learned to build bombs and instantly became the goons greatest fear. Sevika doesn’t get paid enough for this)

It’d been a slow day, running errands and checking up on everything, Jinx coming along, not really paying attention, her focus on some kind of gadget she was working on.

Since taking on the name ‘Jinx’, the girl seemed just the tiniest bit more comfortable, taking fewer naps and starting to tinker around instead of just spending her days drawing.

As they were on their way back to the Last Drop, Jinx suddenly stopped, winding the metal monkey she’d been working on and setting it down at the entrance of an empty alley, going to lean against the building next to it, waiting.

Silco said nothing, simply raising an amused eyebrow.

After ten seconds of suspenseful silence, Jinx groaned in frustration, kicking at the gravel beneath her before going to retrieve the monkey, “It didn’t work!”

“What are you trying to do?” He questioned as she joined him once more, falling into step with him.

“I’m trying to make it blow up! But it just won’t! It’s always the same, they never work. The only one that worked was-” she cut herself off for a second, her head jerking as she no doubt was remembering the warehouse explosion, “and I can’t even take credit for that because it really was those dumb blue sphere thingies!”

HexTech. It’d been HexTech.

Silco hummed, considering, “Why do you want to build bombs?”

Jinx shrugged, “It’s fun.”

Well that was an unusual hobby for a child to have. But this was Zaun, he wouldn’t concern himself over Jinx apparently enjoying trying to build explosives, he was more concerned about what would happen if it actually worked and she didn’t know what to do.

“Do you want to learn?”

Jinx tilted her head, “I mean… I kinda wanna figure it out by myself but… I don’t know I’m getting kinda impatient.”

Once they reached The Last Drop, he knew what to do, seeing Sevika standing at the bar, he approached, “Sevika, fetch me Cerys, tell him I have a job for him.”

Sevika gave a glance to Jinx, who was still fidgeting with the monkey-bomb. She raised a single eyebrow, “You sure you wanna mess with that boss?”

“Just go.”

Sevika sighed heavily as she pushed herself away from the bar, going to head downtown, muttering something about ‘bad idea’.

An hour later, there was a knock at his office door and Cerys, one of the most prolific ‘demolition’ experts in the undercity came sauntering in, grinning as he went to sit down, leaning back on the chair.

“Evening boss, Sevika tells me you got a job for me?

“It’s a special job, one I expect you to carry out carefully and with upmost discretion.”

Cerys laughed, “Sorry boss but ‘careful’ and ‘discretion’ aren’t exactly my strong suits.”

Silco said nothing, starring him down.

He quickly stopped laughing, clearing his throat, “So, what’s the job?”

Silco took a moment to inspect the man, enjoying the way he started squirming under his gaze before turning, “Jinx, come here please.”

Jinx looked up from her gadget, going to stand next to him, Cerys’s eyes widening, having not noticed the kid before.

“This is Jinx, as you can see she has a certain passion for explosives. You will teach her the basics. Basics only, she can figure out the rest by herself.”

Jinx straightened up at the words, excitement shimmering in her eyes.

Cerys burst out laughing, “Alright alright- I’d heard you had a kid but that’s-” his laughter slowly died down as he realized there was no punchline coming, “You’re actually serious?”

Silco scowled as he starred the bulkier man down.

Cerys awkwardly cleared his throat, “Uh- okay uh- kid can I take a look at that?”

Jinx handed over the monkey-bomb with no resistance, Cerys quickly inspecting the gadget, “Alright uh… this is not bad for a beginner, not bad at all, you could probably crack it on your own eventually. Uh… how old are you?”

“Eleven.”

Cerys looked up at Silco, eyes pleading.

Silco continued to stare him down.

Cerys cleared his throat yet again as he returned the monkey-bomb, “Well alright then uh- we can head down to my workshop-”

“You’ll teach her here.”

“I can go get my stuff and I’ll teach you… an eleven year old kid… the basics… on how to build bombs…” he gave one last valiant attempt as Jinx cheered, excitedly going to gather her designs, “Are you sure?”

“Cerys. Do what I ask of you, and let me handle the repercussions of it.” Silco said with finality.

Cerys sighed, defeated before going to stand up, “Right now?”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“…see you tomorrow boss.”

Silco told himself that it was a strategic move, if Jinx started learning now how to make bombs, it might prove beneficial in the future.

It had nothing to do with how excited the little girl got as she started twirling around the room, the happiest he’d ever seen her.

***

Cerys slowly left Silco’s office, heading down the stairs and leaning against the doorframe, where Sevika was waiting.

“You didn’t warn me… why didn’t you warn me?”

Sevika snorted cruelly, “Where would the fun be in that?”

Cerys ran a hand through his hair, “I’d heard the rumors that he had a kid but…”

“Kid’s gonna be a fucking menace, mark my words.” Sevika said as she rolled her eyes, “And to add insult to injury… she’s got Silco wrapped around her little finger.”

“Little fingers that will soon be handling bombs… I’m fucked if that kid gets hurt aren’t I?”

“Yup.”

“What if she blows herself up?”

“No amount of money will save you from Silco’s wrath.”

“Not helping!”

***

Jinx was practically bouncing off the walls in excitement as she listened to Cerys’s explanations and as he showed her what she’d been doing wrong.

She made it clear that she only wanted to be taught the basics, things like more complex timers she wanted to figure out by herself. She knew she’d be able to do it.

Cerys seemed nervous about her ‘out-of-pocket’ ideas but was a good teacher, he clearly knew what he was talking about.

Jinx soaked it all in, ignoring the whispers in her ears trying to remind her of what had happened the first and only time one of her bombs had worked, pretending not to see Mylo’s shadow standing in the corner of the room.

After two days of lessons, Cerys let her set a small bomb off in an empty alleyway, Jinx screeching in victory when it went off.

Days later, she told Silco to wait on the stairway, getting him to hide with her as she allowed one of her mousers to roll out, to where Sevika and a few guards were.

Silco tensed up, going to move before-

“BOMB!” Sevika screamed, the bomb going off and-

Covering everyone in glitter and blue paint, Jinx cackling at the guards stunned expressions. Sevika looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel, making her laugh even harder.

Silco just sighed, containing a proud smile as he strolled out like nothing had happened, “You should be more aware of your surroundings.” He scolded the guards, Jinx going to hop up on the bar as Silco went to get himself a drink and her some juice, unbothered by the glitter covering the bar, after all, they had a few hours until it was time to open the Last Drop, “Get someone to clean up.”

Sevika took a deep breath, promising herself she’d give Cerys a good punch the next time she saw him. She knew it, fucking blue menace.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

"Can't ignore the mistletoe" with Nathan please

I'm so sorry this took so long! <3

Is there anything you want to ask for?

Nathan Bateman x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Warnings: Nathan being a dumbass, allusions to blow jobs, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 727

You’d been suspicious the second Nathan had started grinning like the Cheshire cat. Any obvious glee on his face was always a cause for slight concern, especially if you couldn’t work out the reason for his expression straight away. 

“What?” You ask, your voice calm and even as you stop in your tracks. You’re one step away from breaching the threshold of the kitchen.

He blinks once, pulling his grin back into a more reasonable smile. “What?” 

You stay looking at him, so used to this behaviour by now that you don’t even bother to roll your eyes. 

“It’s no fun if you don’t say something else.” He teases, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. 

“Good.” 

He tuts, pretending to be annoyed but you can see through his facade easily. “Come here.”

You stand firm and raise an eyebrow. 

“What?” He shrugs, stepping back to lean against the counter. 

“What?” 

He gives you a look, “You were coming in here a second ago.” 

“That was before you gave me that killer clown expression.” 

Nathan snorts, “A smile? You’re calling my smile a-”

“Yes, I am.” 

“That’s very mean,” he shakes his head, “You’ve hurt my feelings actually.” He says unconvincingly. 

“Oh, you have feelings, do you get them in the new update?” You try to say seriously but can’t even finish the sentence without smiling. 

“That was a good one,” he mock claps for you, “how long have you been working on that devastating jibe, princess?” 

You give him a playful glare as you walk into the kitchen, your previous mistrust briefly forgotten. “Fuck off Natha-” 

You yelp in surprise as he pounces on you, wrapping his strong arms around your body.

He gives you another cheeky grin and purposefully glances upwards. You inwardly groan when you follow his line of sight. There’s a sprig of mistletoe hastily suck to the ceiling above your head. 

“Can’t ignore the mistletoe.” He gives you a smarmy grin. 

“Is that real?” 

“Of course it is.” 

“Where did you get it?” 

“What’s with all the questions?” He leans a fraction forward and you pull back. There’s a small flash of emotion across his face that you can’t quite place. Panic. He freezes for half a second, his muscles relaxing as he lets you go. “I got it on the walk this morning.” He says quietly, his voice softer as he takes a small step backwards. “I just thought…”

“You want to kiss me that bad, huh?” You nudge his arm gently and he scowls.

“No.” 

“Liar.” 

He glares at you, his mouth open to retort. But he doesn’t get the chance. 

You rush forward, pressing your lips to his in a frenzy and slip your tongue inside. 

He gasps, tensing for a moment before he moans softly and kisses you back eagerly. His glasses bump against you slightly as he moves, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he presses closer.

His beard brushes against your skin, his kisses deep and warm and wanting. Needing to devour more and more of you. 

He follows you when you pull back, his eyes closed as he tries to keep his lips pressed to yours. A gulp echos in his throat as he stills himself, breathing hard. 

“I…” He starts.

“I knew you wanted to kiss me.” You tease, smirking at him and raising an eyebrow. 

To your surprise, he looks a little bashful for a moment, almost embarrassed. “Yeah.” 

You bite back a snort. “Yeah?” You press a little closer, enjoying the, for once, slowed down Nathan. You can practically see the cogs whirring behind his eyes. 

He nods, swallowing thickly as you lightly place your hand on his chest and walk him backwards until he bumps into the counter. 

“You could have just asked.” You give him a playful look and he frowns slightly in confusion, as if the thought never even occurred to him. 

You slip your hand down his chest slowly until you can toy at his waistband and the very tip of his obvious erection. “So,” you stretch out the word, “Is there anything you want to ask for?” 

Nathan smiles cheekily, “Another kiss a little lower?” 

You laugh as he presses his lips to your cheek and you slip your fingers under his clothes. 

Thank you for reading!

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[ultrakill-confessions]

I love love LOVE V1. Like to a potentially abnormal amount, though granted the ultrakill fandom is decently abnormal about ultrakill (affectionate) so I'm not tooo out the ordinary.

Anyways, I wanna smooch V1 sooo bad. I'm ace so I don't wanna do anything further, but I'm very physically affectionate, so I desperately wanna hug and snuggle with them and then smooch them and help with repairs and sit with them and-

I love them!! I've fallen entirely for the silly robot! It's to the point where I've had 3 dreams about them, one about their origin and two others about just hanging out with them; I'm pretty sure the most recent one was set in the credits museum (that I hc as being a small part of heaven that V1 can reach but this isn't about that shhh).

I will admit though, I have gone a little stir crazy. I've read all the V1/reader fanfic I could get my hands on, I constantly stalk the V1 Ultrakill tag to see any new art of my beloved, I listen to the playlist I made for them, and sometimes, if I really want to see them, I open ultrakill, mute the music, and then load into the sandbox so I can turn on mode with the cheats.

Ngl, the amount of Gabriel/V1 that pops up in the tags is always a lot larger than I expect, which the art is great and all, and absolutely no disrespect to those that ship it!! But I really don't (due to the fact that. Well. I want to be the one dating V1) so I have the tag blocked.

I do tend to think of V1 as a sort of artist! Typically a musical one (I'm a professional singer myself, so music means a lot to me), but any kind of artist works ngl. I mean, heck, in their origin dream they were making a clay vase! And when it comes to me inserting myself in, I typically pose myself as a semi-corporeal spirit, able to touch and feel, but not really able to pick up much, typically helping out V1 with their descent into hell. Sometimes I like to think Gabriel can see me and is just like "what the fuck did you do to get haunted, machine?" (Nothin, I just love them a whole lot :3)

I.. really really wish there was more V1/reader. There's so much to explore, so many directions you could take it in! What if you're the last human alive? They could protect you for a plethora of reasons! What if you're a friendly fellow robot? What if what if what if, ya know? And I know it's all "be the change you want to see in the world", but I want to see other people's takes on it. But.. on tumblr there's someone who seemingly got pestered or spammed out of posting, people wanting the same as I do, and at first there was a spark of hope with someone else, but last I checked, their account was gone. I know I'm not alone, but the lack of content does make me feel a bit lonely, admittedly.

Sorry for this being such a long confession, I guess I had more feelings about them than I thought I did.

Gods above and below I love V1 Ultrakill, and they're not even real.

-

[r4fe-cam3ron]

CHRISTMAS STORY EIGHT | MERRY CHRISTMAS, I MISS YOU — s. harrington x reader

w; angsty! but has a cute ending :p

an; close to the ending! posting this one early so i can post the surprise one today as well <3!!

Steve Harrington used to be a cocky individual - or so it seemed, with the front he always tried to keep up until he finally allowed those walls to tumble after Nancy Wheeler. 

He wanted to prove himself to her, in a strange manner, and now he realizes that, maybe, if he would’ve truly just been himself instead of someone who Tommy Hagan and Carol Barrett wanted to hang around, things probably wouldn’t have ended the way they did. 

But, then he wouldn’t have been able to meet you with the way things had gone with Nancy. You were the epitome of a true angel. The day you’d stepped through the doors was his very first day in Family Video. 

Any and every word had slipped from his mind, forgetting how rude it was to practically stare at someone you don’t even know. 

You’d laughed about it and had continued to come to Family Video every Thursday and Friday night - conveniently the days he works night. 

It was you who had made the first move - a smile as you leaned on your elbows on the counter towards him. His brain had gone to mush again at the look on your face and the smell of your perfume invading his nose. Floral with a bit of cherry. 

“So am I asking for your number or are you asking for mine?” It was such a stupid line, yet it had worked. His fingers fumbling for a pen, knocking them into the floor in the process, Robin pausing her sweeping to stare back at him with an unimpressed look on her face. 

Your fingers have pressed to your mouth as you laugh, watching him grab a yellow post-it note before handing it to you. Everything had gone great - everyone in the party loved you, they always wanted you to be with Steve at anything he was invited to. 

Then things suddenly, somehow, went sour. He’d become more guarded, seemingly less interested than he was at first. He started to push you away more until there was nothing left to push away from. 

Now he’s sitting all alone, watching some weird movie playing on the television. The tuxedo he was wearing was so comfortable that he could probably fall asleep in it. He’d left his Dad’s work party early - nothing but older men and women there. 

The cookie he eats drops crumbs onto the lapel of his jacket and a bit on his pants. He tosses the rest on a napkin and leans back as he blinks at the television. 

“What is this?” He mutters to himself, grabbing the remote and turning the television off. He sits in the quiet for a while, puckering his lips slightly before standing. He pats at his pockets, slipping the pack of cigarettes out. He walks outside without grabbing a coat, immediately lighting the cigarette. 

He wasn’t planning on walking around aimlessly, but that’s what ended up happening. And that’s how he found himself in front of your small, cozy home, staring inside at the tree and the warm lights. 

There’s chatter going on inside, a loud laugh from somewhere in the house that he recognizes as you. He steps a bit closer, stopping when he realizes how close he is to the lawn. 

Then he realizes what he’s doing. He’s staring into your home. Through a window. In the middle of the night, like a creep, in a tuxedo as he freezes to death. He barely registers the chattering in his teeth and how tense and shaky his body is. 

The door suddenly opens and you step out onto the doorstep, tilting your head. “Steve?” 

He slowly turns and looks at you, his lips pulling into a tight smile. “Hi. Hello.” 

“What are you doing here, staring through my window? And without a coat? Are you insane?” 

Yes. Maybe. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I was just aimlessly walking around.” 

“Oh,” He watches as your body slightly drops. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. “Uhm, would you…would you like to come in? Warm up for a bit?” 

“Is that…okay? I don’t want to intrude.”

You motion him inside. “It’s just some family. You’re not intruding.” He nods and follows you inside, shutting the door behind him. His nose is instantly hit with the smell of cinnamon, chocolate, and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“Are you hungry?” You turn to him, arms dropping when you realize again that he doesn’t have a coat. 

“Not really.” He shakes his head. 

“Oh,” You nod. “Thirsty? My mom made some homemade hot chocolate.” 

He debates and eventually nods. “Yeah. That does sound nice.” 

You smile softly and he can’t help but think of how pretty you look with the warm Christmas lights hitting the side of your face, highlighting your features perfectly. 

“Okay, follow me.” 

He feels bad, truly. For standing outside your home and staring into the window, watching your family. And for how things ended. Once in the kitchen, he sits on the bar-stool, clearing his throat. 

“How have you been?” 

You glance over your shoulder when you grab a cup, shutting the cabinet door back as you shrug. You step over towards the stove where a pot sits on the eye, steam slowly rolling off the top. “I’ve been okay, I guess. Nothing really interesting happening,” You place the cup in front of him. “Whipped cream, marshmallows, or both?” 

“Both.” He nods. You nod and grab the bag of marshmallows, dropping a couple into the cup before opening the refrigerator door, grabbing the can out. 

“How about you?” You shut the door and step back, spraying some over the top of the layer of marshmallows. 

He watches. “Thanks,” He says when you stop. You nod and lean against the counter, looking at him the same way you did that night you’d used that one stupid line. “I’ve been…okay. I’ve been better.” 

You hum softly and nod, looking down at the counter this time. “What were you actually doing outside, Steve?” It sounds like you’re hopeful. Like you’re wanting him to answer in a certain way. 

“I was honestly aimlessly walking,” He says seriously. “I was at home because I left my dad’s work party early. Some weird movie was on television so I walked outside to smoke,” Your brows lift at that, eyes lifting to meet his. Smoke? When did he start smoking? “I hadn’t even realized I even started walking until I stopped.” 

“Oh.” 

You seem disappointed with that answer and he honestly doesn’t know what kind of answer you wanted. 

“So after this, you’re going to continue to not speak to me again?” 

Steve stares at you quietly, lips parting. He goes to speak, but someone enters the kitchen. “And who is this handsome man?” Your - very stumbly - aunt smiles, waving with her fingers. 

“This is Steve,” You motion towards him. He waves awkwardly. Oh, god. Family. Your family is here. “Steve, this is my Aunt Alexa.” 

“Well, what are you two doing in here? The fun’s in the living room - come on now!” She grabs your hand, pulling you with her. You glance back at Steve who sits there for a moment. Debating on if he should leave, and do exactly what you had just asked about, he sighs and stands, following you into the living room, standing next to you. 

“Oh, look at them,” Alexa grins, eyes drifting upwards. “There’s a rule you have to follow though.” She makes a slight face, wiggling her brows. Steve gulps and quickly looks up at the mistletoe your dad had put up this morning when your mom had passed. 

It seems as if he’d forgotten to take it down. 

“No,” You quickly shake your head. “No. No, we don’t have to follow the rules. It’s stupid. Besides, I believe Steve was leaving. He was just coming over to…” 

“To pick up my movie,” Steve lamely makes up an excuse. You wanted him to leave so he’ll go. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.” 

You nod. “I’ll walk you out.” Your cheeks are flushed red from embarrassment, cutting in front of him as you walk towards the door. 

“Sorry again,” He says softly. “I didn’t mean to…just—”

“Show up. I know,” You nod, eyes drifting outside towards the snow that falls. “You’ve made that clear.” 

Steve rubs his lips together before stepping out into the cold once again. Before you could close the door, he quickly turned. “I’m sorry for not calling you back.” 

“It’s fine, Steve. I understand—”

“No. You don’t understand,” He shakes his head. The tip of his nose and the top of his cheeks had begun to grow a pretty pink color. “I truly like you. I know it seems like I have a weird way of showing you, but I do,” 

Your arms cross over your chest when goosebumps have started to slowly lift across your arms. “I…when I begin to like someone, have strong feelings for them, I shut down,” He takes a breath. “Not because I don’t want to put in that effort; but because I’m scared too,” 

“When I was dating Nancy, everything seemed…easier in a way. I was doing things that I would never do again in a million years because I’m so embarrassed I acted that way. Granted, I was young, but still,” He takes a deep breath. “With you it seemed…complicated.” 

“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel better.” You let out a scoff, hand lifting to push the door shut. He quickly steps up again, pushing it back open. You're startled by his quick movements, head rearing back slightly. 

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” He shakes his head. “I should’ve worded that differently—”

“You think?” 

He finishes his words. “It was scary in a good way,” He nods. “It was new. Fresh. I could actually be myself with you - I never knew who I was, exactly, since I've always tended to be different around different people so I can match them effortlessly without them judging me,” 

Your eyes glance down at the ground before looking back up when he shifts closer. His freckles had faded across his nose. “I pushed you away because I felt…” He stops and his face falters. 

“Felt what?” You ask softly. 

“I love you,” He blurts out. “And it was…it was embarrassingly fast how easy it was to fall in love with you. I think that’s what made it complicated,” You let out a small breath. 

“Because it was easy. I’m used to difficult and ‘will they, won’t they’ type of relationship. This doesn't…this feeling doesn’t come close to even touching—”

He’s cut off by your lips brushing against his, your hands cradling his jaw. It takes him a moment, but he’s lifting his own hands to cradle your jaw in a gentle hold, stepping closer. 

Pulling away slowly, your nose nudges him once, twice, three times with a small smile. He presses another quick kiss against your lips. 

“If you do that again, Steve,” You look up at him. “I will not let you in again.” 

He nods and smiles softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you mind if I stay for a while longer?” He asks quietly. 

You reach over and shut the door. “No. I don’t mind,” You shake your head. “And, Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you too,” You nod. “It was…scary to me as well - but it felt nice. Like nothing before.” 

His thumb presses into your cheek and he kisses you once again - soft, sweet, and slow before pulling away. “Good to know.” 

| tags — @oceanblvd111 ; @ali-r3n

| please do not copy my work! comments, feedbacks, reblogs, & requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated! ❅

| border — @/silkholland

[writinginatree]

The Taste of Home

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson & Garrick Tavis & Riorson!reader, background Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail

Summary: When the first snow falls in Aretia, that means it's time for baking cookies, building a blanket fort, and lots of playfulness.

Warnings: Swearing, one tiny injury, the reader is implied to be on the smaller side physically and kind of a brat (sorry, I just got very self-indulgent with this 😅)

A/N: Since I mostly only bake recipes in my first language I'm not that familiar with English baking terminology, so please feel free to correct me if anything doesn't make sense the way I phrased it!

It's 4:32 in the morning when you burst into Bodhi's room — and that's entirely his own fault for not locking the door. He jolts awake, immediately reaching for a dagger as you jump onto his bed, excitedly whispering, "Wake up, it's snowing!"

With an exasperated groan, your cousin drops his weapon and sinks back into the pillows. "It's the middle of the fucking night, bubs."

"No, it's not," you insist, shaking him slightly. "You have to get up in an hour or two anyway. And it's snowing! You hear me? It's finally snowing enough to not immediately melt away again!"

Bodhi tugs on his covers, trying to pull them over his head, but he can't with you sitting on top of him. "Mhh, I heard you the first time," he grumbles. "Now can I please go back to sleep?"

"No."

"Don't be a fucking brat." He's trying to sound strict and commanding, but he's still sleepy and it sounds more like a whine than anything else. "Can't you go bother someone else with your snow?"

You know you kind of are being a brat, but that's never stopped you before, so why should it now? Fully yanking the covers from his grasp, you pout down at him. "Nope. No way am I entering Xaden's room uninvited. I really, really don't want to know what him and Violet are doing in there."

"Probably sleeping, like any sane person," Bodhi grumbles. "What about Garrick? I'm sure he'd love to be woken up just because it snowed."

"Better not..." Unlike Bodhi, Garrick would certainly win a tug of war for the covers. "You're awake anyway now, so you might as well do me the favor and get up," you reason. "Please!"

Bodhi makes another attempt to get his comforter back. "Why do you even want me to get up? It's still dark and it's cold. You can stay here if you just let me sleep some more, how about that?"

For a moment, you consider it, always tempted by the prospect of cuddles. But there's a fresh layer of snow waiting outside, glittering in the fading moonlight and just about begging you to be the first to leave your footprints in it.

"Nope. Get up, we're building a snowman."

Knowing when it's time to give up, Bodhi stops fighting and drops his hands. "Ugh, fine. Get off me, then."

"Can we bake cookies today?" you ask Xaden later that morning, coming up behind him in the line for breakfast and jumping onto his back.

"I have to—" he starts, shaking his head, but you interrupt him. Whatever oh so important stuff he thinks he has to get done today, it can't possibly be more important than cookies.

"Nuh-uh. Fuck that. You can take a break from all your big bad responsibilities."

"You do remember we're at war, right?" He shakes you off, turning to lift a brow at you.

"War can wait!"

"That's not how that works."

"You're not going to bring on the end of the world by taking a day off, Xaden. Give yourself a break. You deserve it."

"You know how useless it is to argue with her about when to bake," Bodhi comes to your aid. "If there's snow, there have to be cookies, too. And she's right, you really fucking deserve a day off."

Xaden scowls, but you can tell how much he wants to give in. "Teaming up on me now, are you?"

"We always baked cookies as soon as it properly snowed," you insist, barely stopping yourself from stomping your foot like an angry toddler. "It's bad enough that we couldn't do it the last six years, but now we're finally home, so we have to do it again! Please!"

Xaden looks between you and Bodhi, both giving him the same pleading look, sighs and raises his palms in defeat. "Fine. But only if Violet can join, too."

"Of course." You grin, throwing yourself at him in a hug. "Thank you! I'll tell Garrick."

Xaden grabs you by the back of your shirt before you can run off. "Breakfast first, though. Let's just meet in the kitchen in about an hour, okay?"

You agree, and leave them standing there when Xaden lets go of you.

"—dragged me out of bed to play in the snow at five this morning," Bodhi is complaining when he walks into the kitchen with Xaden, Garrick and Violet an hour later, but the smile he can't quite hide gives away that he didn't mind it nearly as much as he's pretending.

You've already prepared the dough for one of the recipes you plan on making while you waited for them. Wiping your hands on your apron, you turn to face them, hands on your hips. "You guys are late."

"Looks like you're doing just fine without us," Xaden remarks with a pointed look at the ball of dough before you.

"Yeah, well, as you should know, this has to be in the cold for at least an hour or two before we can roll it out and cut the cookies without it crumbling," you say and open the window, placing the dough outside on the snow-dusted windowsill. "Let's make the white almond ones in the meantime, yeah?"

Bodhi scrunches his face in thought. "Almond ones? What almond ones?"

"I think she means those ugly cloud looking blobs that fall apart when you bite into them," Garrick says.

"Ohh, fuck yeah! I love those," Bodhi agrees, reaching for one of the aprons hanging on hooks in the corner. "Let's go!"

You nod, but before you can get started, the others need aprons too. Garrick and Violet obediently put on the ones you hand them, but a certain someone decides to be difficult.

Folding his arms across his chest, your brother glares down at the brightly striped fabric you hold out to him. "I don't take orders from first-years. And I'm definitely not wearing a fucking apron."

"Yes, you are. If you don't, you can get right the fuck out, and if you don't help, you won't get any cookies, either."

Xaden might be in charge on the battlefield, but in the kitchen, you are the boss. He knows it, too, snatching the apron from your hand and tying it around his waist while grumbling something about you being a brat under his breath. Everyone seems to agree on that today, but as long as they do what you want, that's fine with you.

You grab a fresh bowl and instruct Bodhi to hand you four eggs while Garrick searches for the whisk.

"Did everyone wash their hands?" Violet makes sure, and you all nod.

"Okay, so what's first?" Bodhi asks, placing the eggs on the counter before you.

"First someone has to separate four eggs for me."

"Still haven't learned how to do it?" Xaden teases, cracking an egg as Garrick takes another to do the same.

"I have, actually," you inform him. "It's just that you're better at it."

"Are we? Or do you just not like having sticky hands from the eggs running over them?"

"Both." You shrug with an unapologetic grin. "You can put the yolks aside, we only need the whites for this."

"What do we do with them?"

"Beat until very stiff, and slowly add in the sugar," you reply, taking the whisk and getting started once all four egg whites are in the bowl. Needless to say, your enthusiasm doesn't last long. "My arm hurts."

"Seriously?" Xaden laughs. "You're a bonded rider, strongest of your year, yet you still can't whisk a bunch of eggwhites?"

"I didn't say I can't. I just said my arm is tired. If you don't want to help me, I'm perfectly capable of finishing this on my own."

"Just give it here," Xaden says, playfully rolling his eyes at you as he takes the bowl from you and continues whisking with an efficiency you can only envy. Soon the eggs turn into a fluffy foam, and you slowly add in the sugar while Xaden keeps mixing.

"Okay, now to carefully fold the almond slivers into the mass."

You take that task upon yourself, Violet slowly adding in the almonds for you while Xaden prepares the baking tray and grabs some teaspoons with which to transfer the mass.

The three of you scoop it onto the baking tray in small piles, while Bodhi goes poking at the dough on the windowsill. "Should we start rolling this out while you get those into the oven?"

"You can check if it's cold enough, but it's probably still too soft." Garrick opens his mouth, and you whirl around to point your spoon at him. "Don't you dare make a dick joke," you warn.

"I'd never!"

"Then what were you going to say, huh?"

Garrick clears his throat and looks away, damning himself with his lack of answer.

You nod. "That's what I thought. Close the window, Bodhi, there's no point cutting those yet if we have to wait until these are done to put them in the oven, anyway."

While you place the baking tray in the oven, Xaden offers the batter rests to Violet behind your back — predictable, but still disappointing.

You jump to their side. "Let me too!"

Xaden rolls his eyes, and Violet laughs. "Don't worry, there's enough for all of us. We could've probably gotten a couple more cookies out of this."

"Probably, but we've earned a treat."

"I thought the cookies are going to be our treat?"

"Well, yeah. But we also deserve a treat now."

"So, how long do these have to be in the oven?" Garrick asks.

"About an hour."

"Great, and what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Wait for them to be done?"

"I'm not going to sit here doing nothing for an hour!"

"We could have a snowball fight," you suggest.

"Absolutely not," Xaden immediately shuts you down. "The cookies would be ashes by the time we make it back inside."

"Let's play memory," Bodhi suggests. "You still have one somewhere, don't you?"

"More like half a dozen of 'em," Xaden scoffs under his breath.

"Yeah, I think so," you reply.

Since Xaden isn't entirely wrong about a snowball fight taking too long, you go with Bodhi's idea. Five minutes of digging through a sideboard you haven't touched since your return to Aretia turns up a whole pile of old board and card games, Bodhi's favorite memory among them.

"Xaden, you keep an eye on the time," you order, laying out the cards under the boys' watchful gazes. It may have been years since you've played any games together, but apparently they remember all to well how much you used to cheat at most of them.

"Always me," your brother complains, but dutifully takes out his pocket watch.

It doesn't take long until you regret that you didn't even try to cheat. You'd never had to, always the champion when it came to memory. But then of course, you'd never played it with Violet before. She's crazy good at this. While you have a meager three pairs so far, she is collecting pair after pair, her stack of cards already bigger than all of your and the boys' put together.

Twice she wins, leaving you in second place. You're about to demand you play another round, but the time is up, and Xaden drags you to your feet.

"Stop sulking and come take the cookies from the oven."

"Fine, but I want a rematch later," you insist, still pouting a little as you follow him to the kitchen.

Violet offers you a smile. "Sure. We can play as many rounds as you want."

"Oh, you'll regret that," Xaden laughs. "She'll keep you up till morning, or until you let her win."

You gasp. "Let me win?! No, no, no. Don't you dare!"

Violet laughs, putting her hands up. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on it."

The almond meringues turn out perfect, and after everyone tries one and the rest are put away, you start on the butter cookies. By now, the dough is perfectly chilled, and Xaden easily rolls it out as thin as possible.

There's only one problem.

"Where the fuck are our cookie cutters?!"

"They're not in the drawer," Bodhi reports, shrugging apologetically when your glare darkens even more at his words.

You look from him to Xaden to Garrick, skipping over Violet, since she certainly had nothing to do with this. "Okay, which of you idiots—"

"Oh, no," Xaden interrupts you. "Don't blame this on us. As you said yourself, you're the one in charge of the kitchen, and you were the last one to put them away before the apostasy."

"Yeah, well, I definitely put them in the drawer where they belong, so—"

You stop short as Violet takes a small tin box from one of the cabinets, holding it out to you so you can see inside. "Are these the cookie cutters we're looking for?"

"Yes!" You beam at her, grateful she had the sense to just search while you others stood and argued. Then your face darkens again as you realize none of you would've put them into that particular cabinet, with the fancy tea service of all things. Which means— "Someone used our cookie cutters while we were gone."

"Apparently." Bodhi shrugs. "So what?"

"Those are ours!"

"Yeah, yeah. I know, baby. And they're all still here, so it's not a big deal. Now do you want to throw a tantrum or are we going to make cookies?"

Thus made aware of how childish you're being, you take a deep breath to calm yourself down and mutter, "Make cookies."

Bodhi nods. "Thought so. Come on then, you can cut the first one."

You don't have to be told twice, deciding on the star-shaped one. The others grab cutters too, and soon the first tray of cookies is in the oven.

"When we were kids we did this every winter," you tell Violet, grinning at the memory as you work side by side, filling a second tray. "It was a whole tradition, with Garrick coming over for the weekend and the four of us building a pillow fort in Xaden's room and sleeping there in a huge pile of fluffy blankets and cookie crumbs."

"Sounds fun."

"It was. Is. I think we're too big for the pillow fort part, though." When Bodhi gasps and stares at you as if you just declared the end of the world, you amend, "Well, at least Xaden and Garrick are. I guess we could make one without them and put a sign in the entrance that says 'no giants allowed' or something."

"Excuse you?!" Xaden crosses his arms, glaring down at you. "No way you're building a blanket fort without us."

"It's not my fault you'd bring the whole thing crashing down!"

"We wouldn't!"

"Sure you would!"

"We'll just have to make it a big pillow fort," Bodhi tries to dissolve the argument. "Then we can all fit inside."

"But a big pillow fort isn't as cozy as a small one!"

"If we use enough blankets and pillows it will be," Garrick insists, adding, "Now stop being a brat and take those cookies from the oven before they burn."

You pivot to look into the oven, and sure enough the first batch is already a little darker than the soft golden shade they're supposed to turn. Cursing Garrick for not taking them out himself upon seeing this, and muttering about how he isn't the boss of you, you hurriedly rescue the poor cookies.

The rest turn out better, and time seems to fly until all that's left to do is decorate them.

"Don't you think that's a bit too much chocolate?" Violet asks, looking over your shoulder as you melt it on the stove.

"Probably," you admit, "but better too much than too little."

"Especially since more of it will end up in two certain someones' stomachs instead of on the cookies," Garrick laughs.

Bodhi nods, adding, "Between Xaden and Y/N, getting rid of leftover chocolate definitely won't be an issue."

"Oh, shut up, Bodhi, you're no better!"

When your cousin tries to object to that accusation, you grab another cookie and shove it in his mouth. It earns you a kick against your shin, but at least you get the last word.

Not that him and Garrick were wrong, exactly, you silently admit as you catch yourself licking chocolate from your fingers for the umpteenth time a little later. But it's hardly your fault that decorating always makes such a mess, and covering everything in chocolate-fingerprints would be worse.

And there! A whole spoonful of chocolate glazing disappears into Bodhi's mouth, hypocrite that he is! Meeting his eyes, you raise a brow at him, but he just grins and shrugs.

You blow a raspberry at him, and focus back on the cookie you're decorating.

"We should have dinner and finish this later," Garrick suggests when about half the cookies are decorated.

You blink at him, taking another cookie and slowly shoving the whole thing into your mouth while staring him down from your seat on the counter.

He blows out an exasperated breath. "No, Y/N, we can't have only cookies for dinner."

You share a look with your brother.

"I mean, we could," he says slowly, like he's only just realizing it. "Who's going to stop us?"

"Common sense?" Violet suggests, but judging by the way she's eyeing the fresh cookies, you doubt it'd take much to convince her.

"We already had nothing but cookies for lunch," Garrick gripes. "I need some real food!"

"He's not wrong," Bodhi admits.

Violet also nods, giving Xaden an apologetic smile. "I could use a proper meal too."

Xaden looks at you. "Guess we're overruled."

"Fiiine," you sigh. "Let's eat some real food."

After your dinner break, it takes another hour to finish decorating the cookies, and by the time you've cleaned up, it's full night outside.

"Okay, so are we serious about doing the sleepover, too?" Garrick asks.

"Of course! Right, Xay?"

He shrugs, pretending nonchalance, but you know him too well to fall for that. He loves the blanket fort part of this tradition. "If you insist."

Damn right you do. Someone has to, after all, and if everyone else is too used to playing the responsible adult, well, you have no problem being the childish one and forcing happiness upon them.

The others agree too, and Bodhi slaps his hands. "Okay, let's go then."

"Wait, but we're not done," you hold them back. "I want to make those nougat thingies too!"

"Those aren't cookies," Bodhi says.

"I don't care what they are, I want them."

Xaden ruffles your hair. "We'll make them tomorrow, okay? It's late, and we still have to put up the pillow fort."

"And don't forget that you wanted to play another round of memory," Garrick reminds you, "though why you would want to torture yourself like that is beyond me."

You reluctantly give in, since you know Xaden likes the nougat treats just as much as you do, and will probably keep word about making them tomorrow. It really has gotten late, you realize, yawning wide around another cookie.

Bodhi is already piling more onto a plate to take up to Xaden's room for later, along with a teapot full of hot chocolate.

"Okay, everyone get all the blankets and pillows you have and bring them to Xaden's room." Pointing at Violet and Xaden you add, "You take the cookies and hot chocolate, but leave some for us!"

No sooner said than done, you're all gathered in Xaden's room a few minutes later, a huge pile of blankets and pillows dumped onto his bed. You stand around it in a rough circle, staring at your building material in thoughtful silence.

"Sooo... How did this work again?" Garrick finally says.

Xaden scratches his head, then slowly walks to his desk and takes the chair, moving it so it's a few steps away from the desk. "We definitely need this over here to hold up the blankets."

"I think we always used to tuck one side of the top blanket into the armoire," you say, "and then tie the other end to the chair, right?"

Bodhi nods. "And then we drape another one across from the desk and also tie it to the chair."

"Okay, let's try that and then go from there," Xaden decides. "Just keep in mind that it has to be bigger than it used to."

"Yeah, yeah. We know."

After forty minutes, two failed attempts and half a dozen arguments about the correct layout of a pillow fort, you're finally finished, and this time, it's sturdy and big enough that everyone is satisfied with the result.

"Perfect." You spread out on a pile of pillows, admiring your handiwork. "I think this might actually be the best blanket fort we've ever built."

Xaden nods, but then nudges you with his foot before you can get truly comfortable. "You have chocolate all over your sleeve, bug. Go get changed before you get everything dirty."

Since pajamas will be much more comfortable anyway, you all head back to your own rooms to get changed, before meeting back in Xaden's room.

"Not a fucking word," you growl after a single look at the barely suppressed grins on the boys' faces upon your entering the room.

"You've had those pajamas since you were, what, ten? And you still have to roll up the pants' legs?" Garrick laughs.

"It's not my fault they made these for fucking spiders or something!"

"Spiders?" Bodhi chokes out, laughing so hard you're sure he'll bring the whole pillow fort crashing down any moment.

Even Xaden is laughing, though he tries to hide his face against Violet's neck. She's chuckling too, but there's a look on her face that tells you that too long pants are an issue she, too, is familiar with.

"Yeah! No one who isn't a spider has legs so abnormally long!"

The boys only laugh harder, and yeah, okay, the spider comparison is ridiculous. Whatever.

Since you're not going to just stand there and let them laugh at you, you grab one of the pillows not yet inside the fort and hurl it straight at Garrick's face. He's the one who started making fun of you, and the only one standing far enough away from the pillow fort that you can be sure you won't accidentally tear it down.

Your aim is true, and Garrick takes a step back with an angry yelp, catching the pillow before it can hit the floor to fire it right back you. You duck beneath it, jumping behind the bed for cover and grabbing the last two pillows left on it.

Garrick ducks into the pillow fort for ammunition of his own — a perfect target. One pillow hits his behind just as intended, but the other flies past him, hitting Bodhi instead. Your cousin narrows his eyes at you, picking up the pillow and nodding at Garrick.

They're ganging up on you — and you're out of ammo.

Ducking behind the cover of the bed again proves useless, as they come rushing around it seconds later, both of their arms loaded with pillows they start firing at you as soon as they're in range.

"Xay, help!" you squeal, picking up one of the pillows they threw at you to defend yourself as you retreat toward the wall.

Your brother takes his time coming to your rescue, but his picking up a pillow and slowly walking over is enough to draw Garrick's attention away from you. Faced with only Bodhi now, you have room to go into the offense yourself.

"Every time," Xaden grumbles, his shadows saving you from getting hit on the head by a bunch of books a stray pillow knocks from the shelf above you. "They do this every fucking time."

You grin, jumping on top of Bodhi, who has fallen onto Xaden's bed, and think to yourself that that's exactly why you always have these sleepovers in Xaden's room and not yours. He doesn't have nearly as much fragile knickknacks on his shelves as you do.

Bodhi puts his years of sparring experience to use and easily breaks your hold on him, rolling both of you to the side — and right off the bed.

You slam into the floor with a loud thud, the carpet doing nothing to cushion your fall as Bodhi's weight on top of you crushes the air from your lungs. Tears spring to your eyes at the pain shooting through the back of your head.

"Ow," you whimper, the sound embarrassingly high pitched and whiny.

Shadows grab Bodhi by the back of his shirt and lift him off you before he can react as Xaden rushes to your side. You swat his hands away from your head, blink a few times to clear your vision, mumbling that you're fine.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three." You slowly sit up, slowly regaining your composure. "Now get out of my face, I'm fine."

"Let me see your head," Xaden insists. "The way it sounded, you hit it pretty hard."

Since you know the stubborn ass won't back off, you let him inspect the back of your head, waving Bodhi's apology aside. Gods know your roughhousing has lead to this kind of accident often enough over the years that it's no big deal.

"Doesn't look too bad," Xaden decrees. "But you'll probably get quite the bump."

"Told you I'm fine."

"Still, you should probably—"

Spotting a pillow on the floor just inside your reach, you grab it and hurl yourself at Bodhi, ignoring whatever your brother is trying to say.

"Haven't you had enough?" Bodhi asks, struggling to fend you off.

"No."

"—rest." Xaden sighs. "Right. Never mind, then."

You jump to your feet, bumping your brother's shoulder. "Come on, you, me, and Vi against Bodhi and Garrick!"

"Hold up, why should it be three against two in your favor?!" Garrick complains.

"Because Vi and me are small."

Bodhi rolls his eyes. "As if that makes any difference! Everyone against everyone would be fairer!"

"I don't care, I want teams!"

You don't give them the chance to argue any more, throwing one pillow at Garrick and hitting Bodhi over the head with another.

Violet shrugs and joins you, leaving your brother no choice but to go along too.

You're very glad Violet is on your team; her aim is immaculate, every pillow she throws landing right on target — unlike yours, which uselessly smack against the wall half of the time. But you do your part too, keeping hold of your favorite fuzzy pillow and hitting your opponents with it every time they come within your reach.

Finally, Bodhi and Garrick surrender. After moving all the pillows back into the blanket fort, you flop onto them, thoroughly exhausted. The memory rematch will have to wait until morning, you decide. Tired as you are, your chances of beating Violet at it are worse than ever.

"Good night guys," you mumble, feeling one of the others settle down at your side. You don't hear their reply anymore, already drifting off.

When you wake up, your arms have both fallen asleep, trapped underneath yourself and Bodhi respectively. You try to untangle yourself without waking anyone, but Bodhi stirs.

"Not this again, Y/N," he mumbles, clearly remembering your shenanigans from the morning before.

"No, we can sleep some more," you whisper back. "I just have to pee."

Bodhi grunts and rolls over to go back to sleep, leaving you to try and pick your way between the others without stepping on anyone in the dark somehow.

On the way back from the bathroom, you decide to grab a snack while you're up anyway. But as you approach the plate of cookies, a sound coming from its direction has you stopping in your tracks. It almost sounds like... chewing?

Yes, it's definitely chewing. A cookie thief, beating you to your midnight snack.

Tiptoing closer, you try to make out the person's silhouette, but it's too dark. Well, whoever it is, they're in for an unpleasant time if they took the last of the cookies. You're fully awake now and craving sugar, and you absolutely refuse to walk all the way to the kitchen for a cookie.

Your stretched out hand makes contact with someone's head, an annoyed huff their only reaction. Recognizing your brother when your fingers skim the line of his eyebrow-scar, you remove your hand from the proximity of accidentally poking him in the eye and instead feel around for the plate of cookies.

Of course it's Xaden. And of course your approach didn't startle him, what with his shadow powers. He's probably been silently laughing at you the whole time as you clumsily felt your way through the dark. Well, just wait until you get a signet, too. Then you'll show him.

But for now, cookies. You're convinced Xaden is deliberately moving the plate from your reach, otherwise you certainly would've touched it by now. Hearing him bite into another cookie as you still unsuccessfully feel around, you've had enough.

"Share!" you hiss, hand finding his arm and moving along it in hopes of finding the plate, but no luck. His hand is empty.

"The plate's right in front of you," he whispers back, and you swear you can hear him smirking. "Just take one."

"Asshole."

But this time you listen closely to his movements when he takes another cookie, and reaching into that spot, your hand closes around one too. And it's the last one, you realize, sliding your other hand over the plate as you bite into the cookie. It's Xaden's luck he let you have it, otherwise you might've had to draw a dick on his face as revenge while he slept.

Speaking of sleep, you really should go back to bed.

Xaden seems to have had the same thought. His hand brushes over the top of your head as he steps around you, then shadows wind around your arms and guide you back into the pillow fort after him, saving Bodhi from getting your foot in his face and tucking you in as you snuggle into your cousin's side.

[pinep-ne]

Req: How do you think Charles and Arthur's first romantic dance went out? It can be a drabble or one shot, whichever you'd like! Go ham-

Ohh I love this.. I have an answer and a little one-shot for you. I got really carried away with this one,,

I think in a modern au, which is what I am assuming, for the sake of *romantic* and their *first*, it'd have to be the classic dinner date.

I like to think they knew each other beforehand from work or similar, and after some painfully obvious pining, Abby and Hosea were practically begging Arthur to just ask the dude.

I've never really thought of Charles being the type to initiate too much in relationships, being alone for so much of his life, and Arthur's probably had more experience being a ladies' man if Mary says anything, so I thought the trope fit. And with Charles being a closed book, Arthur probably didn't have any other promising ideas such as this one.

So he pops the question, to which he receives a sheepish yes. Panics a little because he was fully expecting to be friend-zoned, or a secret open-ended thing in between, and also had nothing else planned except for a place, a budget, and the time.

Of course the cherry on top is that the 'table-for-two at a warmly lit and hushed restaurant that pours champagne for hundreds' scene isn't really something familiar to either of them, so the dinner itself ends up pretty abysmal. I mean the evening is nice, and they're clicking, and it's not necessarily awkward, but they'd really just rather be anywhere but here.

Anywho. In truth, as their relationship unfurls I think Charles and Arthur would kind of stray to the more unconventional dates— hiking, camping, volunteer work, roadtrips, etc etc. It's safe to say a rich and lavish night of romance isn't really something they're super inclined to. Plus, there's just something a little impersonal about sitting across from the table from your potential lover, and these idiots have always seemed like the 'parallel play' type to me.

I hope I've embodied a lot of this in the fic well enough... sorry if it's all a bit of a spoiler!

Anywho. I hope you enjoy!!!!!!!!! It gets a little introspective like most of my works... so apologies in advance. And for reference, this is probably set in the early 2000s.

(i have this fic and more posted on ao3!)

----------

Arthur leans across the center console, trying to catch a glimpse of the apartment numbers once more. Re-checks his watch. Flips the visor down, and re-checks himself. He gives the reflection a once-over, kneading at his face, flicking back a particular chunk of hair, only for it to bounce back over his forehead. Curses, mulling over for the umpteenth time this whole affair, and steps out of the truck.

He thinks, immediately, that he should've asked earlier. In April, or something. Not December, when the sun's always further than it should be, and the truck only starts up on a prayer. It's too cold to wear something nice without it looking unfitting, but he supposes he's done okay. He wonders if Charles is any better, as if the man's ever looked bad a day in his life.

The quick jaunt to the door has his stomach flipping inside itself. He buzzes once, and twice, and considers a third time before it squeals open. Straightens. Crosses his arms before letting them down again at his sides. Thinks it better to just push them both into his pockets.

Charles is there, like he should be.

He's wearing about the same thing Arthur is, about the same thing they both wear normally, only more polished. Boots and jeans and a simple flannel, covered by a thickly lined denim jacket.

He gives Arthur a look. Something akin to amusement, maybe. Holds his gaze to Arthur's and gifts him an earnest little smile, like it's a secret just for the two of them.

Usually, he's got an inch or two on Charles, but with the man on the doorstep, Arthur's looking up a good bit. He's got one hand on the door, the other occupied with necessities, rested in the air with idle anticipation. Gaze following Arthur's every move, every frantic bout of shuffling, and fidgeting.

Arthur's chest stirs at the sight, at the tilt he keeps his neck to. He lingers on the feeling, and breaks the contact, looking over his shoulder while it settles.

It takes a second or three for him to even process that he's supposed to do something. He shifts on his heels and lets out a chuckle himself, smiling ear to ear.

"Hey," he huffs, and gazes up once more.

"Hey," Charles mimics. It makes them both laugh, the whole situation. Arthur can't seem to wipe the smile off his own face at that. He shoves fists further into his pockets, glances back to the truck, then down at his feet. Face feeling like ice, burning at the core. He's sure it's screaming quite a shade of red.

He steps back, letting Charles step onto the porch beside him. "You ready?" He asks, to which Charles hums.

They both settle in the truck. Arthur quickly fumbles for the keys before he can bear any drawn silence. His shoulders drop as the engine sputters to life, just ready to start the damned night.

He doesn't remember ever being this anxious for anyone. With Mary, there was almost a standard, or rubric for him. He knew her type well, what she fawned over in their early days. Could mold himself into it easily enough and be loved by a woman how he ought to be loved, and in turn love her the way he ought to love her.

With Charles, it seems it's flipped itself around. Some way or another Arthur'd bared himself enough for Charles to wrench that mask from him. And he supposes that is the issue, that there may in fact be nothing behind it, or at the very least, an entirely lesser man. One that would be realized, and discarded for what it's worth.

But, hell if he doesn't want it. Hell if Hosea didn't plead him for it either.

Arthur never told him about this excursion, but he plans to. Regardless if it goes well or not. The man deserves that much and more after putting up with his stubborn self. He just worries like a parent should. Arthur doesn't blame him, with how his past two relationships went. He supposes he worries too. Wonders many more chances he can take, before his heart is disciplined into something less malleable, less childish.

If anything, he is grateful that it'd have to happen now. He's felt freer, softer than he has in years. By instinct he wants to hate that, wants to beat it down before it gets a chance to blossom, but as a stronger nature, he finds that mere notion impossible the moment Charles finds him again, and shows him how easy it all is.

And Christ, it makes him sick.

They haven't even made it a minute down the road before Charles nudges Arthur, supposedly thrilled if the look on his face says anything, but with something unreadable behind it.

Arthur figures his nerves must be afire, too.

Charles turns to him, speaking low, an odd tilt of his tone, "Surprised you didn't bring me flowers or nothin'," he rests his elbow on the center console, pausing. "The girls told me about your... 'charms', as they called it."

Arthur balks, "Oh— pff. You're kiddin' me," he groans, rubbing a palm over his face.

Charles makes an amused noise through closed lips. "Maybe Ms. Gaskill just told it a little rosier than you did."

Arthur tilts his head around, shrugging. "Well... I mean, it was all puppy love back then. I ain't blamin' her none."

"Lucky I'd known before. Woulda second-guessed this whole thing."

Arthur leans back in his seat, one arm outstretched to steer, like those big rig drivers. Trying to loosen up, even if it seems unnatural. He looks at Charles, brows furrowed. "You ain't already?" Still trying to ride on the teasing, but there is genuine surprise there. He wonders if Charles wants it just as bad.

Arthur watches him open a pack of Marlboros, offering one. Watches him light both and take a drag. Voice a little more genuine, a little lower, "Can't say I'd ever," he says.

Arthur nods to that, and they fall back into silence.

The last bit of blue hour has fallen beneath the horizon, a void swallowing the road. The restaurant is further into the city. Not like neither of them really live in the city to begin with. The reviews were good enough, a little too distinguished for his taste, but he hopes there's at least some bit of casual-ness, with it being downtown.

They make it to the place, parking a block or two down. Before Charles can even think, Arthur's rushed out of the car and rounded to the passenger side. He whips open the door with a flourish and bends down with a hand out, grinning coyly.

Charles barks a laugh, turning his face away, as if he could flee the scene. "You bastard."

But Arthur persists, cheeks round with an actual smile now, still holding a palm out for Charles to take. "You ain't an exception to my romantic charms, Mr. Smith."

Charles steps out, shoving past the hand. "Sure," he breathes, face to face with Arthur on the curb, who's stood like a deer in headlights, performance quickly smothered. Charles gives him a perplexed look.

"Could use a little work, though. Face gives it away." He starts down the sidewalk.

"My— What about my face?" Arthur's pitch raises, catching up to Charles. He merely laughs in response, and throws another look Arthur can't quite put his finger on.

They reach the restaurant. A glistening tower of brick, about three stories, crammed between its larger neighbors. Arthur quickly settles in. Strides past Charles and makes a bee-line to the host, leaning across the stand. Mumbles where Charles can only hear the drawn vowels of his accent, low and grumbly.

They both follow the host like a family of ducklings. It's a lot more crowded than Arthur anticipated, or wanted frankly. He immediately begins to recognize his own askew presence, but decides not to bother.

Their seats are snug against the wall, on the second floor, with a little square table that hardly fits both their forearms, and a large window that reaches past their heads and down to their heels.

They each order a beer, in quiet agreement that they've already painted an odd portrait of themselves by wearing jeans to what is quite the esteemed establishment. There's a second of consideration before just picking the cheapest meal the place has, and deciding they'll share it.

Charles shifts in his seat. He clears his throat and takes a few sips of beer. Clearly the dread in the air has become palpable.

"Arthur, how've you been?" He says. It's blunt, and uncomfortably shallow. Arthur thinks like second nature, though with some amount of disappointment that it's where they must tread now before hitting any deep-end.

He tries his best to salvage it, anyway.

He takes a few sips himself before opening... whatever this conversation should be... and scrunches his face at the taste. Right. Cheapest options.

"Well y'know," his confidence tapers as soon as it had been mustered. "Pretty static right now. Dutch ain't sending me on any jobs lately, 'cause of the ice. Good time to—"

Charles, honest to god, giggles, though faint, waving his hand in a subtle gesture to Arthur. "We're not here to talk about work, Arthur," he sets both his elbows on the table, shifting again, like it's some interrogation. "How are you?"

Arthur sits, lips parted. He looks out from the window, then back at Charles, who stares expectantly. Then, his body suddenly rights itself, reanimating with an odd ferocity.

"Right— sorry... I ain't really connected like this, with you. Just not used to it." he pauses, "Long way from coworkers now..." he winces. "But I'm good. Not just in a shallow way, I mean. I'm real happy about this. Happy, in general. At least Hosea thinks so." he looks back out to the window, humming. "How're you holding up yourself? I know you... ain't really open up much 'round work and all."

Charles also falters, it seems, spotlight suddenly upon him. Arthur thinks the same epiphany's occurred to the both of them simultaneously. That a date does, in fact, take two.

Charles opens his mouth with a brief noise, much like a string of vowels that've been severed. He settles a little dejectedly, posture slightly shrunken.

"I don't really know what I'm doing, to be honest," he says. Avoids looking for Arthur's reaction, he barrels on. "It's just been a while since I've really... pursued anything? But I'm glad— y'know, that you are, but I'm also glad myself. Content, I think. Maybe a little anxious," he huffs and hides behind his beer again.

Arthur balks, "You?" He watches Charles perk up, smile growing, even if a little reluctant. "And here's me wakin' up 'fore dawn and starin' off half the day, I was so worried."

"We're in the same boat then," Charles says in stifled laughter. Arthur bites his cheek, stirred by the sight of it. He keeps the yarn spinning, coaxing more, slowly peeling back the layers eagerly.

The food comes, and he takes it as an opening. They share it together as planned, which could be a little tastier with the damn price of it. Not that Arthur is really paying attention.

They trade throughout the night. Little details, and Arthur learns more than he'd expected to. About Charles' mother, with sparse mention of his father. That this is both their first serious date with another man. That Charles has a sweet tooth, shyly confirmed after the pursed lips he'd given when Arthur declined a dessert. Little quirks about him that Arthur's already begun nailing into his own heart, forgetting entirely to share anything about himself until prompted to.

By the end of it, the creaky stools and odd stares all around hardly really mattered anymore. He supposes he's grateful for the experience as they walk out, and only knows for sure when they're both shoulder to shoulder on the street again. His heart stutters despite it. He feels he owes something.

"Charles. Hey, I'm uh," he stops them when they reach the truck. "Sorry if this was all kind of a bust."

Charles faces him, remnants of a smile still lingering. "What do you mean?"

"Not that I didn't enjoy it! I mean you're— it was really amazing. I loved it, I'm just kinda realizin' maybe the fancy night-outs ain't fit for us, or me for that matter," his hands stay at his middle, fidgeting with the keys, averting his gaze.

Charles looks at him even more confused. Taking a second to process that, then, his features relax in what seems to be understanding. He lends another smile, "Your company was wonderful Mr. Morgan," his voice falls back into that same timbre from earlier in the evening. "But I think you're right," he says, to which Arthur only huffs.

They settle back into the truck, silence looming over once again. Arthur can hear the rustle of fabric as Charles shifts in his seat; he doesn't feel any urgency to turn the keys.

"What about lights?" Charles asks.

"Lights?" He mimics.

"Christmas lights. Whole festival for them, next weekend. Should be near your area." He does the same move he'd done on the drive here— elbow on the console, except his head rests in his hand, and he's leant closer a great deal, wholly confident in his proposal, although Arthur can't imagine how he's already figured out the answer.

He clicks his tongue, turning the keys. "Sure," he says. "I'd love that," voice pitched and quieter, like an admission to himself.

The drive back is in contentment. Arthur feels like a wad of knots that've been untied and strewn limp on the floor. Part of him longs for more, more of Charles, more of his voice, for some odd reason. Part of him wants to just crash at his place and wake like it's been the two of them all along, but he knows he can't rush it. For both their sakes.

Dutch has always prodded him for having a pliable heart. He's never found it in him to disagree. He's starting to think he wouldn't have it any other way, though.

They reach the screen door, mirroring the position they were in just hours earlier, Charles on the doorstep, Arthur tilting his head to meet his eyes.

He sways around, air a lot colder, trying to keep his nerves about, before stilling a moment, and turning to Charles with as much coolness as he can. "What was it about my face? Said it didn't help my 'charm'?" He asks, voice breathy.

Charles squints, confused, before his eyebrows raise with recognition, a faint laugh bursting out— a small 'oh' buried somewhere between it.

He takes a breath, "You blush a lot, Arthur."

Arthur's face scrunches, "What?" He exclaims. "That ain't fair, 's just cold, Charles,"

"Mm. I noticed it that first ranch job in August," Charles offers, snuffing out Arthur's poor excuse.

Arthur turns his head to where the truck sits, trying to save the embarrassment for later, if at the cost of Charles' amusement. "Pfft. Bastard. It can't be that bad?"

"How do you think Hosea picked up on it before either of us did?" Charles supplies, still grinning.

Arthur grumbles out a string of empty curses, letting the topic go, for now at least.

A pause. The truck rumbles behind them.

Arthur inhales sharply, "Well I suppose I should get going."

"Yeah," Charles says. He rests his hand on the door handle.

"Thank you, for y'know. See you next weekend?"

Charles searches his face, eyes like palms tracing the shadowed features. "Yeah. Take care."

Arthur lends a smile in response and finds another shot back at him with a fervent sincerity. Turns around before it gets the best of him, and walks down to the truck.

[tea-and-secrets]

people try so hard to make the sims sexy but it just. isnt. sorry. i see people gassing each other up about it all the time and i cringe. sorry u can make that sim look as beautiful as you want in cas but the moment they start moving its uncanny. everythings clipping into each other no clothing deforms the way it should the joints bend in a decidedly unhumanlike fashion if you have anything but the default body and no those vertices are not stretching in any way that resembles a good looking approximation of a person. i have also never seen a 3d model in general but especially in the sims ever actually have stretch points that mimic a body, meaning every time ur girl or guy lifts their arms their chest looks less like a chest and more like petrified unmoving tumors. and then i see people basing their actual drawn art off that instead of real people so the anatomy looks like all the muscles and fat have been replaced with bad rocklike silicon bags. its all just so uncanny. sex in the digital age when we are further removed from our bodies than ever i fucking guess. secret bc in the grand scheme of this this IS intensely petty (and i have a simblr so saying this with my face would be asking to face exile)

.

[housewarningparty]

💘 Amy/Faith; Bonus Prompt word; settle. (If you want to indulge me on my agenda)

I come baring a variety of prompts for you hope some of these click and get you juiced.

all your prompts were so good. writing this one as an alternate ending to your excellent fic A Prison of Their Own Making

Also, a bit of a swerve on the meaning of mutual pining lmao

-

“That feels good, Willow,” Amy husks and Faith, with her lips on Amy’s throat, feels the way her breath hitches the moment before Faith shoves her off.

She lands with a shriek and a thud on the shabby motel carpet, looking scared and shocked, but otherwise unharmed. Faith’s glad, because there was definitely a second of hangtime there, just a little too much unregulated slayer strength and for a moment she felt her heart lurch, sick, at what she could have done.

“What the hell, Faith?” Amy shoots back up to her feet, backing away with a sneer, looking at Faith like she’s a dog about to snap. “You fucking psycho!”

“I’m sorry,” the apology slips out before Faith can get her thoughts in order. “I didn’t…”

Faith feels herself flushing, oily embarrassment and sick guilt and more than a little anger of her own roiling in her belly. She hates the way Amy’s looking at her, like that crazy bitch has any right to judge. If anything, she’s even more pathetic than Faith is. This fucked up roleplay thing was her idea, anyway. Faith had just got caught up for a second.

“I’m leaving,” Amy huffs, turning away and Faith should let herself fall back on the bed in relief, should say ‘good fucking riddance’ and start work on forgetting this entire miserable, embarrassing night ever happened.

Instead she says, “Wait,” and bounces to her feet, reaching out to grab Amy by the wrist before she can make it to the motel door.

Amy freezes, struggles for a second, but then stops when Faith steps in closer, pressing her front to Amy’s back, settling her lips on the side of Amy’s neck and offering a tentative kiss. No tongue, no teeth, just her lips, searching.

“Let’s just knock it off with the game, okay, I didn’t like that,” Faith says, hating the slight shake in her own voice, hoping Amy chalks it up to her being horny. “You don’t have to go yet. We can still help each other out.”

Amy hasn’t spoken yet, but Faith can feel her body relaxing in Faith’s grip. Boldly, Faith lets her hands drift from Amy’s wrist, the curve of her hip, up her abdomen, under her shirt. Her fingertips graze the underside of Amy’s bra, and Faith closes her eyes, starts working a bruise into the tender spot just under the curve of Amy’s jaw, pulling needy little whimpers out of her.

“Are you sure you don’t want…?” Amy’s voice trails off and Faith opens her eyes to a flash of honey blonde hair, familiar features. Her lips tingle, remembering Buffy’s name passing through them earlier, that fucked up moment of weakness.

She manages not to shove Amy this time. Just slams her eyes shut, forces her body still despite the hammering of her heart, the slightly nauseous, slightly horny swoop in her belly. “No,” Faith grits out, teeth clenched tight. She slips her hands up under Amy’s bra, grabs her tits hard enough to make Amy wince and try jerking away. Faith doesn’t let her get far, but eases up on her grip, lets her fingertips search out Amy’s hard nipple under the cup, twisting and rubbing more gently until her body relaxes again.

“Why?” Amy asks, and arches into Faith’s hands.

It takes Faith a moment to figure out what to say. It feels important somehow, to just fucking do this. She’ll still feel like shit about all of this in the end, but that seems inevitable. At least this way she can get off. And she hasn’t been with a girl in a minute. 

Plus, she feels a little bad for Amy. And maybe that makes her feel a little better about herself — it’s so rare Faith gets the opportunity to pity someone who has it worse than her. And Amy, no doubt, has it worse than she does. Buffy may go home with tall dark and celibate, but at least she spends some of her nights with Faith. Faith has been floating around on the edge of Buffy’s friend group for weeks and hasn’t heard any of them say Amy’s name not even once. 

And, well, maybe it’s a good deed, breaking Amy in herself. Faith prefers to sleep with people who are experienced, who know what they want, has already had the virgin thing blow up in her face before, but maybe she can teach Amy a thing or two, maybe if she ever actually gets a chance to get up under Willow’s hideous patterned skirts she’ll actually be able to impress her.

“‘Cause I’m here with you,” Faith says, eventually, when Amy finally pulls away, turning in her arms to look at Faith’s face. 

Something ripples across Amy’s face, an expression Faith doesn’t know her well enough to decipher. Maybe she’s glad to hear it — Faith hopes she is. Maybe she picked up on the underlying whether either of us likes it or not of the sentiment. Maybe she thinks Faith is a coward for deflecting.

It doesn’t matter in the end, because Amy loops her arms around Faith’s neck and leans in. All enthusiasm, no finesse. Faith doesn’t mind — it’s better than talking. Too much tongue, but Faith can teach her. She settles her palms on Amy’s ass, squeezes hard, hoists her up so she wraps her legs around Faith’s waist and then she’s stumble-walking them back to the bed, laying Amy down, pulling off her own shirt while Amy pants and blinks up at her, lips swollen and mascara smudged.

Faith drapes her body over Amy’s again, presses her down into the mattress, kisses her hard, then soft, then hard again. She closes her eyes. Imagines honey blonde hair. Just try it out, I know it’ll feel good, Amy’s voice rings in her head but Faith won’t make that mistake again. She knows it’s not that much less pathetic, just thinking it instead, holding the name under her tongue like a pill, but a girl’s got to have some standards.

Faith stops kissing Amy long enough to help her pull her own shirt off, to unclasp the bra she’s wearing, tits heaving in the dingy glow of the bedside table. Faith leans over the bed, stretching and twisting until she can grasp the knob and turn the light off, pouring darkness over them both.

“Will…” Amy breathes again, so quiet Faith might not have heard it if she wasn’t a slayer.

She falls over Amy’s body again, kissing her harder, rougher, to shut her up.

[hannahhook7744]

Are You, Are You, Coming To The Tree?

Summary: Grin and bear it. That was the mantra Harriet kept repeating in her head.  Grin and bear it.  Trigger warnings: Inhumane conditions, swearing, perceived discrimination, drinking, childhood trauma, etc. Merry Christmas @panthera-tigris-venenata .

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It would come as a surprise to absolutely no one that Harriet Hook hated Christmas. 

Christmas on the isle was cold and dreary and it usually snowed horribly or hailed—making it harder to find edible food and durable shelter for those of the isle who had nowhere else to go but the horrid great outdoors. 

Many didn’t survive the long winters. 

And while the isle mourned and fought amongst themselves, Auradon showed cheerful movies about reindeer, talking snowmen, and Santa Claus—movies that were chalked full of things the isle kids would never have like unspoiled eggnog, freshly baked christmas cookies, gingerbeard men, and presents in good condition handed out by smiling parents who loved their children and had the means to give them such things. 

Harriet hated the holiday. 

And she didn’t believe in Santa. 

At least, not the version presented in the cartoons and movies they would show. 

In her mind, it was all bullshit.

The real Santa Claus wasn’t a kind man who rewarded truly good children. No, the real Santa Claus was a holier than thou bastard who only rewarded children who were perceived as good—not accounting for the abused or neglected children who would never be considered good by those around them or for the children who had no choice but to be bad by society’s standards to survive. 

He didn’t care about any abused children in Auradon, if there were any left and he certainly didn’t care for people like Harriet. 

The real Santa Claus hated Isle kids and that was apparent. 

Harriet was almost eleven by the time the Isle’s Santa started distributing presents to every living kid on the isle and fixing up the graves of the dead kids after all. Old enough to know that The Isle Santa wasn’t the real deal. 

She’d had several Christmases of disappointment by then.

Several Christmases of the adults in her life barely being able to scrape by and find enough food to keep her and her siblings alive. Christmases that usually ended up with them all getting drunk till they passed out when they thought she and her siblings couldn’t hear. 

Her and Harry and CJ had all gotten presents, sure, but it wasn’t anything magical like what was shown on TV—no, it was just stuff they needed and if they were lucky, a toy that wasn’t too far damaged when it was donated to the barrage. 

Her dad was always drunk in the days after. Ashamed, angry, and bitter about the fact he couldn’t do more for them. 

By the time the fake Santa started leaving gifts, Harriet was able to tell that the gifts weren’t from a workshop in the North Pole but handmade by someone inexperienced or fished from the barrage and the ocean. 

All it only made the pirate captain hate the holiday more.

Why wouldn’t it? 

Harriet only had bitter memories of the holiday. 

Memories where she knew Santa  and Auradon hated her. 

Harriet hated Christmas. 

But if there was one thing that could make Harriet celebrate it?

It was her crew. 

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“I’m sorry. Did I just hear that right?” Sammy asked, staring at her—and for some reason, he looked a bit nervous. 

“I need your help to make Christmas special for the rest of the crew, the twins, and Owena—the kid Uma’s crew took in.” Harriet gritted out. Eye twitching slightly. 

She didn’t like having to repeat herself. 

Especially not when it came to this situation. 

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one who can keep a secret.”

Sammy snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “that’s what you think” but Harriet didn’t question it because she was nowhere near drunk enough for that conversation. 

“Now. Do you have any ideas or not?”

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“How the hell are we supposed to hide a whole ass tree from the entire crew?” Harriet asked, taking in the tree Sammy had apparently chopped down with her eyes. 

It wasn’t a pine tree. 

Not like the ones on tv anyway. 

Nothing on the Isle was anything like it was on Auradon TV. 

The tree was long, skinny, and battered with sparse, discolored leaves that were just barely hanging on and looked like it had been dying long before Sammy or her was born—which, since it had been growing on the isle, it probably had been. But still, it would be heavy and if it was just going to be the two of them carrying it then it would be hard to sneak it onto the ship without anyone noticing. 

“By carrying it in when everyone is out.” Sammy said blankly, as if it was obvious—shaking a can of green spray paint before he started spraying the tree. “Now. Keep an eye out so we don't get jumped.”

Harriet bristled slightly. “How, exactly? Someone's always on the ship. Nikita, Raymonda, Na’vi, Nova, Henry, and Anais live on the ship, and it's a coin toss on whether your brothers or any of the crew’s siblings and cousins will be on the ship or not. Not to mention our actual crew and don't even get me started on the youngin’s in Harry's crew.”

It felt like the ship was never empty these days. 

“Which is why I called in a favor Homicide, Kai, Ula, and Uziel owe me and got them to agree to distract everyone for a couple of hours starting at exactly 6:00 O’Clock.”

Harriet raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “And why exactly do three of my cousins owe you a favor?”

Sammy let out a long suffering sigh before giving her an unimpressed look. “Do you really want to know or do you want results? I can only give either or. Not both.”

“Just shut up and paint the damn tree.” 

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Grin and bear it.

Grin and bear it.

Grin and bear it.

That's what Harriet had to do. 

Grin and bear it.

Grin and bear it.

Grin and bear it.

GRIN AND BEAR IT. 

‘It was for the kids and for the crew,’ Harriet reminded herself, grunting as she backed up the gangplank with the top half of the tree gripped firmly in her hands. Trying her hardest to keep a decent grip on it knowing that it was likely to break into pieces if the damned thing was dropped—it would be the luck of an isle kid, after all. 

It was for the kids and the crew, and Harriet was not going to quit until the stupid tree was hidden somewhere in the ship and decorated so nicely that all of her friends would weep in delight from the sight. Achy back and creaky neck be damned.

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The tears the crew of the Queen's Fury and the children would be crying would not be tears of joy. 

Of that, Harriet was sure, as she looked at the newly decorated Christmas tree with a barely disguised grimace. 

Sammy had managed to dig up three Christmas bubbles (two of which were broken) and some flickering fairy lights in the barrage but that hadn't been enough to fill the tree. 

So they'd had to take some…. creative…liberties. Like tapping a couple of lanterns to a couple of the branches and breaking into Madam Medusa, Eq, & Cruella’s jewelry boxes for the best earrings the isle had to offer to hook onto the tree next to shiny bottle cups, broken glass bottles, and fish bones. 

They'd thrown one of Harriet's old hats on the top as a tree topper and used a moldy bite ridden rope as garland. 

It looked more like a crime scene than a Christmas Tree and joy was the farthest thing from what the pirate captain felt when she looked at it. 

And Harriet could just tell by the look on Sammy's face that he hated how it looked too, no matter how much he tried to claim otherwise. 

Christmas was going to be a disaster.

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“What are you lot doing here?” Harriet asked with an exhausted stare, too tired to speak above her ‘inside’ voice. 

Homicide (Morgie's eldest son) shrugged, a big red sack draped over his shoulder.

Behind him were Kai (Morgana of the sea’s daughter) and Ula & Uziel (the son and daughter of Uliana), all three with big red sacks of their own as they walked up the gangplank.

“We owed Sammy a few favors.”

The raven haired girl just let out a long suffering sigh, deciding that she just didn't want to know why that was at this point. Harriet wasn't scared to ask, per say (lie), but she figured that this whole thing was likely something she would need deniability on. 

Even if she'd end up stuck dealing with the fall out regardless.

“That doesn't really answer the question but come aboard, I guess.”

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Presents and enough food that they could have a feast. 

That's what Harriet’s cousins had brought on Sammy's behalf.

“You crazy son of a bitch, what do you have on them?” Harriet’s eyes didn't stray from the pile of presents tha nearly filled the storage room they'd hidden the tree and food in. 

Christmas was in the morning. 

Sammy definitely had to be blackmailing them. 

The blonde didn't even deny it, not looking away from the (mostly canned) food he was looking over. “You don't want to know.”

“Sometimes, Sammy, you scare me.”

“Not enough to keep you sober, apparently.”

Harriet snorted. “No one scares me enough to keep me sober.”

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The next day the pirates of the Queen’s Fury and the Lost Revenge came together and feasted on badly made Christmas cookies, crepes, slightly used candy, rum, slightly out of date eggnog, and much more.

They danced, they sang sea shanties, they told stories, and they laughed when the roughhousing broke out. 

Nobody had cared what the tree looked like and Diego had even laughed when he recognized some of the earrings on the tree as his aunt’s. 

It was a good night.

Harriet would even call it a merry one. 

It was the best (and even only, for some of them) Christmas any of them had ever had.