#steel can never be forgiven for this

[amertsi]

I GUESS I’M JUST INTO THE FUCKING LEGOS NOW, I GUESS THIS IS MY LIFE

[secondpersonpoetry]

Franziska Linkerhand, Brigitte Reimann

[sosakan]

tag drop <3

[nvuy]

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO THE BOOTHILL COMMUNITY I'm eating very well this week salute for your contribution 🫡🫡🫡 I also like the idea of sappy boothill he's the type to say "my girlfriend hates me I hope I die" and the Jessica and Roger rabbit dynamic is so!!!

he’s your ride or die. it’s most definitely a case of somebody asking “what do you see in him?” to which you reply “he makes me laugh.”

he’s so whipped to the point he’ll be in a serious debacle with somebody, guns drawn, throwing threats, but as soon as he hears the custom ringtone he’s set up that indicates that it’s you calling, he holds up a finger to his opponent and answers the call.

example: “oh, keep talking.” his gun is aimed directly in the centre of his opponent’s forehead. “one more word and i’ll blow a nice hole through yo–”

his pocket vibrates and chimes a ridiculous tune.

gun disappears back in its holster, the red targets in his irides fade and he turns his body away to answer the phone. “hey sweetie!”

his opponent is stunned. “wh–”

boothill holds up a finger. “of course i can buy dinner on the way home! what do you want to eat?” his opponent just barely hears a voice speaking on the other side of the phone. “mhm… i can get that… no problem… hey, you’re not working on friday, right? i’ll take ya out for dinner. there’s a nice little restaurant on the xianzhou luofu i think you’d like… sound good? i’ll see you tonight… love ya lots.”

probably makes kissy noises before he hangs up.

“seriously? are you–”

whoops. trigger finger’s a bit too itchy today.

adding onto what you said, he’s so sad when you’re upset with him. to me, he seems very disorganised and more of a risk taker. he’s got a body of steel; lots of risks won’t even leave a dent on him. he’s constantly running late to things, constantly leaving tasks unfinished to start something he finds more interesting. he’s in for the thrill of the ride.

one time, he forgot a date he himself had set up.

not only did he come home to find you clearly upset over it, but he was absolutely fuming at himself. apologised one million times to you, two million kisses, probably got on his knees, and he can’t ever forgive himself.

even if you’ve already forgiven him, you’re laughing and trying to get him to stand up because “you’re a grown man acting like this.” he latches onto you like a koala bear.

it’s not even that deep either. it’s just a lunch. it’s not like it was a special occasion. speaking of which, he’d never forget a birthday, valentine’s day, whatever traditional holidays you celebrate. never ever.

he’s actually such a sappy gooey loser it’s so sweet. his favourite thing to do is bury his face in your neck or your chest or your lap. he’s all over you like sticky sweet honey, and you can’t get rid of him that easily.

[lineffability]

"Crowley."

Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.

"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."

"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.

"I need your help" Aziraphale said.

"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.

The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.

"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."

"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.

Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.

"Why are you here?"

Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)

"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"

"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."

There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."

"No."

"This is important." (This isn't about us.)

"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)

"You do! You always have."

"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."

"That's not what I meant."

With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)

Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."

The words dropped like a lead balloon.

There was utter silence between them.

Why were they so close?

Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.

But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.

He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.

This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.

This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.

"I'm sorry. I need to go."

"Of course you do."

"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."

And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?

With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.

Crowley was alone.

His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.

And failed considerably.

I love you.

(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)

[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]

[macabr3-barbi3]

Hey! I saw your oneshot requests post on AO3. I hope I'm not I'd love to make a request, hope I'm not too late! Could you please write a oneshot with Alastor catching the reader masturbating and give him a breeding kink? It's cool if you're not into it though and would only prefer to write Alastor catching the reader before having sex, lol. *gives you a massive smooch on the forehead* thank you smm

did I go a little crazy with this? maybe. I had fun though, that's what matters! I struggled a little with the breeding kink part but I hope you still like it, anon! <3

Tags: vaginal sex, possessive sex, masturbation, biting, a bit of scratching (I like Al's claws what can I say)

2.4k words

<3<3<3<3<3

Another shitty day in Hell, you think to yourself, coming home from the shit job you held at the news station. You’d think Katie Killjoy could get her own fucking coffee and fetch her own scripts from the producers but no- she needed you to do it so she could spew shit down your throat when her day wasn’t perfect. Which, you know, it was Hell- every day was shit.

You collapse back onto your bed, limbs tense and head pounding. Katie just never shut the fuck up and her shrill voice sounded like a dentist drill in your head. You’d kill a man to be able to relax- it wouldn’t be the worst thing you had done in Hell. But it had been a long time since you had done anything like that; not since Alastor had disappeared. 

Alastor. Even now, thinking his name brings a pulsing heat to your core. 

In hindsight, of course, trading your soul to the Radio Demon for your boyfriend’s to be free had been stupid. So, so stupid, and you realized it as soon as the bastard had broken up with you to fuck off to another area of Pentagram City. Leaving you and your soul in the clutches of one of the most dangerous Overlords that Hell had ever seen. Your job was simple at least- you spent time with Alastor in Cannibal Town almost as an assistant for a while, managing his schedule (when he could be bothered to follow it), checking in on other souls he owned (when he cared enough to check on them), and just generally being at his beck and call.

You were perhaps the tiniest bit infatuated with him at the time. You did whatever he asked of you- his tasks and errands, his housework, the organization of his radio studio when he got too into ripping someone apart. It wasn’t long until he was asking you to assist him with the deed, pushing a blade of angelic steel into your hands and guiding you towards a rapidly beating heart. 

The way he had said “good girl” that day lived inside your head, would twist wickedly around your thoughts when you were trying to focus on anything. 

It did now as well, and despite the fact that you hadn’t seen the demon in seven years- having just up and vanished one day- it still held the same power. Your heart raced, cheeks flushed, and you could feel yourself growing damp between your legs at the thought. You didn’t allow yourself to indulge in the memories often, but today felt like an especially shitty one. You think you could be forgiven thinking inappropriately about your old boss long enough to get a quick orgasm in before passing out for the day. 

With a quick glance to the window, just to make sure the curtains were drawn, you slide your fingers under the band of your panties and run your fingers through the slickness that you find, gently circling a finger over your clit and huffing out an exhale at the sensation. Thinking of Alastor never failed to make you a mess, pleasure curling in your brain and your gut. It was a wonder you had managed to work for him so long without trying to make a move but he had always seemed so uninterested in anyone else when they tried. You wouldn’t imagine that you were special enough to change his stance on that, but your imagination wasn’t hurting anyone.

You shift on the bed, raising your hips up far enough to slide your bottoms off and shove them to the side. You freeze when you hear something that sounds like a creaking door, but brush it off as something from a lower floor, bringing your other hand under the covers. 

One rubbing lightly at your clit you let your other hand reach further, slipping first one finger and then a second into the wet warmth of your pussy. You whimper and close your eyes, wishing that your fingers were longer, wishing someone else was at the other end of them and causing the stretch.

“Good girl.”Alastor’s voice slithers like a tendril through your mind, and you can’t help the groan that tumbles from your lips in the darkness of the night. “Alastor,” you breathe out, indulging yourself, the sound barely audible. It’s going to be over too quickly but you’re too wound up to care, the thought of the Radio Demon alone threatening to send you hurtling over that edge.

“Yes, darling?”

You yelp at the shock of his voice, not just in your head but echoing in the room. Eyes flying open, impending orgasm fading, you see his eyes glowing in the darkness of a corner, his grin coming into view as he steps into the faint light of your bedside lamp. “A-Alastor. What are you doing here?” 

He had been gone for seven years. What were the chances he would show up here? Now? 

“Can an Overlord not simply pop into the home of a soul in their possession when they choose?” He steps closer, head cocked to one side as he looks at you, and you realize that your hands are still fucking touching yourself and you rip them out from under the blanket. “I must say, this is quite the welcome home.”

“I- I didn’t-” He crouches at the end of the bed and your brain stops working for a moment. “I obviously wasn’t expecting you-”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound quite like the truth! You said my name, did you not?” When you falter his grin widens, reaching a hand out and snatching the blanket away, exposing your bare skin to the room. “My my, what do we have here?”

“Oh god- Alastor, I’m so sorry,” you say, and try to scramble up the bed away from him before he wraps a hand around your ankle and yanks you back down. Your heart is pounding, threatening to beat straight out of your chest with the look that he’s giving you.

He gives a hum of acknowledgment. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, darling,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers up your leg to settle on your thigh. “Except, perhaps, starting without me. Do tell, did you miss me terribly while I was gone?”

You open your mouth to speak and all that can escape is a choked out moan when he slicks his fingers through the wetness he finds between your thighs. “That’s not quite an answer but I suppose it can be forgiven.” Miraculously blunt, he presses a digit into you, followed quickly by another as he shifts so he’s crouched above you, face a mere breath away from yours. 

“A- Alastor, fuck,” you manage to gasp out. “Where have you been?” It should be the farthest thing from your mind when he’s got those dexterous fingers inside you, stretching and preparing you for something more if the bulge in his trousers is anything to go by.

Alastor shrugs, “oh you know, just here and there. Doing a bit of this and that.” Eyes lidded he takes in your form beneath him. “Nothing quite so interesting as what I’ve stumbled onto here.” His free hand fumbles with his belt buckle, the clinking of metal drawing your eyes to his exposed erection in his fist. “Won’t you show me how you’ve missed me?”

In answer you lift a leg to wrap around his waist, delighting in his dark chuckle and throwing your head back with a groan when he growls “good girl” against your throat. 

He lines himself up with your heat and pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust; once he’s reached the hilt he braces his hands on your headboard and pulls back, slamming back forward with a vigor you’ve only ever seen from him in his studio. You cling to his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt in a desperate bid to get closer.

Alastor leans down far enough to lick into your mouth, sharp teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your lips. You bite back in retaliation, perhaps a bit too hard in your eagerness and confusion at the situation- his lip splits and you taste the metallic tang. He pulls back for a moment, manic grin on his face in spite of the bead of blood welling on his mouth. He releases the headboard and shifts, one hand twisting up into your hair and dragging your head up to meet his. The other slides between your bodies, thumb grinding into your clit and the rest of his claws gripping your hips where he could reach them.

You had already been so close to orgasm by the time he turned up- the pressure on your clit and the feeling of him inside you, his hands gripping at your body and head while he kissed you and railed himself inside you. You tear your mouth away from his to gasp his name, winding a hand up into his locks as well and striking against something hard.

Your body is shaking with the attempt to hold back, trailing your fingers to the base of his antlers and giving a soft squeeze. 

He groans into your mouth, a broken sound. “Do you mean to make me spend myself already, darling?” He drops your head back onto the pillows, licks down the column of your throat while pulling your other leg up around his hip to press closer to you, deeper. “We’ve hardly begun! I thought you missed me- you’d wish it over so quickly?”

“God, Alastor,” you whimper, and his thumb increases its speed, pressing you into the mattress and digging his fingers into your skin. The release is so close, your legs tensed around the demon’s middle, fingers shaking where they grasp at him. “Fuck-”

“I’d prefer to take my time with you, but I suppose there’s nothing to be done for it if you’ve yearned for me so.” He redoubles his efforts, pounding into your tight heat while you moan and quake around him. A particularly hard thrust has him glancing off that sweet spot inside of you, and combined with his efforts on your clit you’re breaking, everything inside of you clenching and releasing in a rhythm that has him snarling into the skin of your neck.

“I can feel how much you missed me,” he hisses in your ear. “So responsive and greedy in how your body pulls me in- wishes for me to release myself within the grip of your body, to fill you with me.” Another hard thrust and you whine into his hair, grip still tight on his antlers. “Is that what you wish? To be filled? Marked as mine not just in soul but body?”

Your voice trembles out of you, “god, Alastor, yes.”

“There will be no part of you that I have not touched,” he growls, and post orgasm you gasp at the sensation of tightening around him involuntarily. “All of you will be mine- mine-”

Alastor reaches orgasm with a broken cry, clutching your body to his as tightly as he can while spilling inside of you, tensing walls seeming to be trying to pull him deeper despite being buried to the hilt already. He bites you in the moment, a push of teeth into the skin of your shoulder just under your shirt, sucking and running his tongue over the mark as he pulls back.

He leans back far enough for you to see his face again, crimson eyes lidded and smile dangerous. There’s blood on his lips, from where you had bit his and from sinking his fangs into you as he went over the precipice of pleasure. Finally he releases his grip on you.

You collapse back into the pillows, sated and exhausted, while Alastor stands from the bed and situates himself, dragging his thumb across the bite you had left on his lip and smearing the blood across the pad of the digit. He sucks it into his mouth with a crooked smirk. “Well, this was quite the enjoyable detour, darling!”

“Detour?” You sit up against the pillows again. “You’re not staying?”

“I’m afraid not- but don’t worry your pretty little head about it! Neither are you!” He snaps his fingers and your bottoms are back on your body, Alastor holding a hand out to you and hoisting you up from the mattress. He takes a moment to pat your head, smoothing down the stray hairs that had escaped your ponytail from your combined efforts before he bangs his cane on the ground.

“I am?” You look around your apartment. “But- I have a job? And my apartment, who will water my plants?”

“We’ll bring your plants with us! Do you truly care about such trivial matters when you’ll be with me?” A claw tipped finger under the chin, he makes you look up at him. “That’s what you’ve wanted all this time, yes? So help me with this little project I’m working on.”

The floor opens below you, Alastor throwing an arm around your shoulders as you shift into the shadows and reemerge in some kind of lobby.

“What the f-”

“Salutations, everyone! This is one of my associates- I’m happy to offer her services! Please feel free to use her as you see fit, Charlie- she’s quite eager to please.” 

“Oh my gosh, HI!” The Princess of Hell steps forward- you recognize her from her interview at the news station a week ago, Katie hadn’t stopped bitching for hours after that shitshow. She violently shakes your hand and arm before the shorter woman, her little one-eyed girlfriend, forcibly pulls her away from you. “I have SOOOOO many ideas for what you can help out with- do you have any experience with cooking? How about cleaning? Maybe Niffty could use some help-” Charlie reaches back and grabs your arm, dragging you away from Alastor who gives you a little wave before slinking back into the shadows.

You spot Husk behind the counter of a bar, Angel Dust of all people draped across it with his head dropped into his arms. The cat lifts an eyebrow at you, another one of Alastor’s souls apparently roped into helping with this ‘project,’ and raises his glass in acknowledgment. A healthy amount of fear and anticipation fills you- you would be working with Alastor again, which would be a nice change of pace from the news station. But when Katie found out her little assistant was going to working with the young woman who made a mockery of her live on television she was going to be pissed.

[esther-dot]

The poor thing in the road, it's eyes still glistening 17k by @eruherdiriel

Hooves are not what wake Jon in the middle of the night, pulse racing and hands clammy with sweat. It’s fire. Orange and angry, eating away at houses and shops and shacks in his dream. Even now that he is awake, Jon can still taste burnt flesh on the back of his tongue. The wounds from his brother’s mutiny and Drogon’s gouge, frozen only hours ago, burn white. War leaves everyone broken, Jon perhaps most of all. Sansa finds even peacetime requires letting go.

the sky is big enough 15k @hopetorun

The war is over, except all the ways it isn't, and Sansa isn't alone, except for all the ways she is.

O Voyagers 28k WIP

Jon’s eyes are fixed on the floor at her feet. To a stranger it might look like respect, the proper deference shown to a queen, but Sansa knows better. If he wished to look at her, he would. He has not forgiven me, she thinks, her heart a stone in her chest. He likely never will.

daughters and queens bleed alone 4k

They crown Sansa with a rope of twisted steel, two wolves arching across her brow in a delicate embrace. No stags upon this crown—no branching antlers, no gleaming manes, no blooming hearts of southern roses. No fire, no blood, no graceful sweep of scales and wings, or the silver bite of dragon’s teeth. The Queen in the North stands before them, and Winter has come.

old wounds 2k by @jonsaslove

Jon left King's Landing and never returned. Sansa became Queen in the North and weathered the storm. When they see each other again, there is not much left to say.

stories to tell our children 1k by @jonsaslove

“You said that Old Nan used to tell you stories so scary you couldn’t sleep for a fortnight! That was a baby story!” Duncan nods, agreeing with his sister. Her father interrupts. “Well, Old Nan was a very good story teller. She could tell you a story about fairies and princesses and make it seem terrifying with just her voice and a menacing stare.” Or; Jon and Sansa tell their children bedtime stories.

Where the Shadow Ends 245k (I'm sure y'all have read this one, but it is THE post canon fic, so it must be mentioned!)

For years Sansa has ruled the North, wisely, justly, capably--and utterly alone. Everyone tells her she needs an heir; all she wants is a family. But after everything she’s suffered, there’s only one man she trusts won’t use her for her claim. Only one she trusts with her body. Unfortunately, she trusts him in no other way--especially not with her heart. For years Jon’s hidden in the far north, choosing solitude over the people he loves, choosing self-exile as punishment rather than atoning. But then Tormund tires of his moping and drags Jon back to Winterfell where guilt and consequences and a tempting offer await him. accompanying gifset by @thewindsofwolves

We Set Fire in the Snow 7k by @framboise-fics

Three days was long enough for moments of tenderness, for soft touches and gentle murmurs alongside the violence of their passions, but it was not long enough to burn this fire between them down to ashes, to put out the flames, he thinks ruefully, bitterly, achingly, as he rides out and looks back at her standing on the ramparts as he remembered her, her hair a curtain of fire, her body rigid like she has been sculpted from ice. He will take that fire back North, to warm him through frigid nights, he thinks; to burn inside of him so that he shall never find any peace; and let her feel the same, he thinks, let him not be alone in his agony. If he loved her he should surely wish her peace, so does he love her? Or is this how a wicked man loves, painfully, cruelly, selfishly? Is he her punishment just as she is his?

An Affair in Stages 13k by @justadram (not tagged post canon but works as one which is interesting as the first chapter was posted way back in 2013!)

It begins with a proposition, but where it will end neither of them knows.

Please Speak Well of Me 17k

A queen isn’t supposed to cry. So she’s learned to turn her tears to frost before they ever reach her cheeks. “Sansa,” Jon says to her, and the ice within shifts, weakens. Brackish water begins to leak through the cracks. She can barely remember how to speak, and it doesn’t come as much of a comfort that he seems to be fumbling as well. Over the foolish moons, Sansa had imagined that, if the time came that Jon ever returned, the mere sight of him would unwind the tangles of conflict inside of her. There would be something in his eyes, something she had forgotten about his face, something that would remind her what was real and what was not between the two of them.

breathe me in, taste my words 2k

Much to her surprise, marriage has only made Sansa less of a lady, not more. She doesn’t mind terribly, but maybe that’s because Jon doesn’t either.

Stone by Stone 8k

Finally, her words came in a rush. “But I seem to have built my own wall. Stone by stone, little by little, after each of them disappointed me, hurt me. And now that they are dead, I sometimes fear I may die behind my wall that no one can can walk thru.”

fire in exile 2k by @princemills

The thoughts of the others he’d lost were too unpleasant, and the thoughts of those who survived made him want to keel over like a babe, knowing he’d left them behind. It wasn’t really a choice, but it didn’t stop him from pondering his choices. From King in the North to bending the knee to Daenerys to stabbing her with a dagger beneath white ash borne from burning flesh, he’s never made the correct choice, and now he’ll burn in hell for it. Or, as Westeros deems hell: he’ll freeze his balls off at the wall, or Tormund will cut them off. Whichever comes first. - a quick study of jon and the choices he makes in exile.

watch me run right back to you 16k

Three times Jon and Sansa almost kiss…and three times they actually do.

come out of hiding (i'm right here beside you) 36k @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

AU after 8.05. After the death of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow chooses to live beyond the Wall, while Sansa Stark, the newly-crowned Queen in the North, marries a Dornish prince. Three years later, when Jon finally gathers the courage to return to Winterfell, he finds that while many things have changed, one hasn't: he's still in love with Sansa. (Featuring widow!Sansa, contrite!Jon, and a cute baby.)

Homecoming 31k @theoriginalsuki

Halfway to him, she broke composure; she flew at him, an arrow from a bow, and he opened to receive her, lifting her, clutching her to the soft, neglected animal of his body. Sansa has one request of Jon, and then he can leave her forever: help her to find a husband.

Gifsets: Jonsa and Their Three Children by @kingbuckley , Together We Build Our Empire by @aureliacamargo, Future Jonsa with Children by @amandapeetshusband, In Which They Live a Long and Happy Life Together by @baelerion, To See Him Once Again by @theirwinterfell, Maybe We'll Meet Again by @thatmansplayinggalaga

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

[oh-katsuki]

cw:  jjk manga spoilers, fluff

satoru bounces a baby on his knee. his baby. he holds her under the arms, smiling down at the precious girl as she giggles incoherently each time his heel finds contact with the floor again. you can see where his hands meet your child’s under arms, holding her steady as he takes her from knee to knee. 

you don’t think satoru knows you’re watching. it’s not because of anything in particular that he’s doing, but you don’t think he’s realized yet that you’re looking. satoru’s smiling like there’s no one else in the world. his grin shakes slightly with his nerves, like he’ll never quite get used to being a father. his eyebrows, knit together in the center with his adoration and his worries, betray an unfamiliar sense of parental nerves, like satoru can’t quite comprehend how he could love something so little as much as he does. 

you can hear him talk in a low voice to his daughter as she steadily grows sleepier. she’s tuckered out, tired from giggling so much and the cry she had earlier about something that startled her. satoru though, continues to mumble in a quite voice as he leans her forward and places her head on his chest. 

he sits back in the chair so that she’ll be more comfortable, mumbling while the precious little thing dozes off against him. you can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can briefly see the way his lips form around the word for love and then, the way they form repeatedly around the name of your daughter. it looks like he’s repeating it, just saying it softly to her as she’s lulled into a sleepy babble by the rise and fall of his chest. 

it’s interesting to see satoru like this, so gentle with affection. satoru, as a person, is deceptively confident but there’s an incredible and unavoidable vulnerability in venturing into parenthood for the first time together. despite that, despite the vulnerability that you know he struggles with, he’s been so good about it. satoru takes the initiative when you seem too exhausted to get up from bed in the dead of night, lulling your child to sleep with hushed whispers or little hums. he steels his nerves when you feel your yours might crush you. still, this vulnerability is both foreign and special. 

“hey,” you walk up to him, “she get sleepy?” 

satoru nods a little, briefly glancing up at you and then back down to the face of his daughter, whose little mouth has fallen open. 

“look,” he whispers, pulling you by the wrist around to the other side of the chair and having your crouch in front of your daughter’s face. “she’s drooling.” 

he says it with so much awe that you’d think he said she was glowing. 

you tilt your head and see that he’s right. at the corner of your child’s mouth, a small sheen of spit begins to seep into satoru’s t-shirt. you find yourself laughing, looking fondly at the little mess she’s creating. 

she looks like her dad. it’s undeniable. though she has your hair and eye color, your daughter’s features are so like her father’s. her eyes are the same shape and her nose, though slightly upturned with how little she is, is his. you can see him in her. even in sleep, her expression is much like satoru’s. even her personality, which has begun to shine through the senseless baby babbling, reminds you of satoru and you can only imagine the trouble they’ll get into when she’s old enough to walk and talk. in your head, you apologize to nanami for duplicating satoru into female form. though you’re sure that wherever he’s watching from, he’s forgiven you both. 

“haha, gross,” satoru adds, his chest jostling the baby who is now dead to the world. 

“satoru,” you chide, furrowing your brows at him. 

he only turns to you and shrugs a little bit, his cheeks pink with a flush like he’s just realized again that he’s a dad and that this child is half of him. you smile at him a little, reaching up to touch the soft hair at your daughter’s temple. she’s so little. she is so small that you find yourself aching and it seems that satoru feels it too, taking a shaky breath in and then exhaling. 

--- 

the windows in the car are down. suguru is driving, shoko is in the front seat. the music from the front comes blaring through the speakers, making its way in steady pulses to the back of the car where you and satoru sit. you can’t hear what shoko and suguru are saying and they can’t hear what you and satoru or saying. 

you can feel the steady whip of the wind on your face as suguru speeds down the near empty highway and into a tunnel lit with glowing yellow-orange lights. the sound of it changes when you go in, air taking on a hollow tone that feels thick against the inside of your ears. it thunders, threatening to drown out the music in a sound you attribute solely to nights like these. 

you don’t particularly know where suguru is driving to. he’s just driving and the three of you are happy to tag along. 

you stick your head out of the car window, feeling the way your hair shifts across your forehead and smiling into the push of air against your cheeks. in the sideview mirror, you can see suguru, whose face lights up with a content smile as he spots you in it. 

satoru is beside you, his black sunglasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose and his arm positioned out of the car window beside him. his hand rests evenly across your thigh, possessive and present. 

this memory is a precious one. before suguru defected, before satoru met toji fushiguro. you and satoru were both more finicky back then, afraid of the commitment that comes with being in love but too prideful to give up entirely on the feelings you had for each other. 

satoru leans over toward the middle seat and the motion beckons you closer. you pull your head from the window, leaning in as well to hear what he’s saying over the sound of the air rushing past the car windows and the music. 

“do you-” a rush of air steals the middle of the sound. “-ids?” 

“huh?” you call, leaning in closer and scrunching your face up. 

“i asked if you think you’ll ever have kids,” satoru clarifies, calling a little louder so that you can hear. 

you jerk your head to look at him, furrowing your eyebrows. he looks oddly inquisitive, like the energy of the night as brought out some hidden vulnerability in him.

“the hell are you asking me that right now for?” you laugh a little. 

satoru shrugs, leaning close by your ear. 

“i’m just wondering,” he smiles a little, lopsided and dangerously confident in the way satoru was then, like he’s wearing a mask. 

you think on it for a moment before shaking your head. “i don’t know! probably not! depends if i live that long, i guess.” 

you laugh off the bleakness of the statement and satoru nods, rolling his eyes. you see the flash of blue as he does over the rim of his glasses and jostle him a little with your arm in response. 

he starts to lean back towards the window, but you catch him before he can. 

“what about you?”

satoru looks at you for a moment, his face unreadable. you can see his eyes over the rim of his glasses, turning over the possibility and responsibility of children. he thinks on it, before his lips quirk up into a little smile. whatever expression of thought he wore before fades away as it shifts into one of smooth confidence. 

“nah,” he breathes, sinking deeper into the seat and tilting his head up, “never.” 

then, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, turning his head to look back of the window again. satoru’s fingers interlace with yours and he offers them one little squeeze without turning to look at you. briefly, you wonder about what he’s thinking in the seat beside you. you wonder if he’s thinking about the future, about one with you, despite his reluctance to admit real feelings for you at this point. 

you turn away, still gripping his hand, back toward the air whipping past the car window. you feel it on your forehead and on your arms, raising goosebumps. the music, blares from the speakers, flooding the back from the front seat of the car where shoko and suguru sit oblivious. the world in the front of the car is separate from the one in the back. for now, you and satoru exist in a bubble. maybe you always have. 

--- 

“she’s so beautiful,” he mutter, running his finger down the bridge of her little nose. 

“she looks like you,” you say softly, crouching beside him. 

satoru turns to you, eyebrows raised like he’s shocked to hear it. 

“you think?” 

“mhm,” you hum, nodding your head a little. 

satoru’s face flushes and you see the way his chest catches a little as he looks back down at the baby perched on his chest. then, she rouses, woken up but the disruption in satoru’s breathing. 

she blinks sleep away, bleary and tired, and satoru immediately croons at her. he tilts his head gently as she rolls hers over his chest to look at him, leaving behind the little wet spot where she’d previously been drooling. 

she hasn’t been asleep long, only a few minutes, and you suspect from her face that she’ll go back to sleep soon, maybe in 20 minutes and probably in the same position she was in before. 

satoru reaches up to touch the wisps of hair by her ear. 

“hey,” he says lightly, “you drool when you sleep, did you know?” 

your daughter just blinks at him, listening to his voice but not registering what he’s said. she babbles sleepily and turns to look at you, peering at you with satoru’s eyes had he not been born with the six eyes. 

“do you want to go to bed?” he asks her, shifting his arm under her to stand up from the loveseat he’s in, “i bet you do, let’s go to bed.” 

you watch as he gathers her into his arms and lets her little head rest on his collarbone. satoru mumbles to her the entire walk to her room, saying little things without much meaning as the child begins to doze off again on his shoulder. 

you watch him walk away, smiling when he tosses you an elated but slightly nervous expression that he’s been wearing often lately. 

his soft voice recedes and you think briefly about his answer in the car that night when the music was playing loud and the air against the car windows thundered as you sped through the tunnel. it’s hard to believe that you are the same people you were then. it’s hard to have thought to guess where you’d end up or who you would both become. the things about you that never changed and the things that could have never stayed the same. still, you think about his answer then—a lie now—and thank the universe for the afterglow.

[yanderehsr]

Hello! How are you? I hope your day has been well. I loved how you did my prev request! You are talented. Can I please request alumine and Wanderer this time?

The latest post, veronica open the door please!"...” was wonderful. I want to request Wanderer and Lumine to see how they will react.

Thank you Doc!

Sorry if I'm not as active as I usually am, I have been preparing something for 1k followers that I am very close to now😅

Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour

Lumine: The break up with her didn't go great to say the least, she was trying to come up with excuses as to why you should stay, she tried to get Paimon to help, hell she even threaten you, when none of that worked she decided it was best to use force, she needs you just as you need her, you can't just leave her, please not you too.

Lumine is surprised when you get away, even more so that you think a silly door is gonna keep her away, that door better be made of pure steel and reinforced by divine power cus otherwise there is nothing that is keeping her away from you. The bangs on the door is loud, each of her hits cracks the door a little, eventually the door is broken down and you can see Lumine's face, a mix of anger and love and all of it focused on you.

"That was an unnecessarily amount of time you wasted there, now I'll give you one last chance, come here or I'll make you"

Wanderer: A break up with him will never go well no matter how you phrase it to him, all he hears is that you're leaving him, you are abandonig him just like the rest, but he won't allow it, you are someone he loves more than anyone, he doesn't even think of why you wanna break up, he will force you to stay if he has to.

Wanderer feels like laughing when you run away and try to hide behind a door, in fact he does start laughing, he bangs on the door rapidly and loudly, taunting you to come out, that he will spare you from any harm if you just get out now, you better do it quick, otherwise his patience and mercy may just run out.

"Come out Y/N, all is forgiven if you just come out now... COME OUT OR I SWEAR TO THE GODS I'LL KILL YOUR FAMILY... see, now was that so hard"

[mychoombatheroomba]

Neon Lights and Neon Dreams

Delicate Weapon - Chapter 1

Leon x GN! Reader x Ada - Cyberpunk AU

A young lawman who just got his badge. A mysterious merc with a blackout past. A rocker with everything to prove. All of you, trying to survive in Night City. City of Dreams. A City where there are no happy endings. But damn, if you aren't going to fight for yours.

Cross posted on A03

Word Count: 9,066

CW: smut, threesome (m/gender neutral reader/f), oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, theft of personal information

18+ MDNI

Neon lights. Too many bodies. Voices crying out in rapturous joy, all drowned out in the wake of the speakers and the music they play. Your music. 

No drug, no braindance, no anything in the world could feel better than you standing on that neon-lined stage, singing so hard you thought you might shed your body and give yourself to the music itself. Probably a byproduct of the pure and utter adrenaline shooting through you, making every line of your songs seem like the most important words you’ve ever spoken in your life. Performing at Lizzie’s Bar (even if you’re just opening for the main band) is a game-changer. A motherfucking miracle.

One that you owe, at least in part, to the woman with dark eyes that stares at you from the other side of the room. One could be forgiven for thinking that she owned the place, the way she lounges in a corner booth, one perfect leg folded over the other as she nurses some glowing drink. She isn’t decked out in the bright colors and cheap threads of everyone else in the bar - her dress is a deep red, her lips painted to match. Her hair is dark and cut short, unadorned. No neon for her. She doesn’t call attention to herself because she never needs to. Ada will always be the most beautiful woman in the room, at least as far as you’re concerned. 

Even in the middle of a firefight, or when her brow is furrowed in the midst of a hack, she is beautiful. 

And right now, because she is the reason you’re on this stage, singing this song, she’s absolutely breathtaking. 

Payment for a job well-done hadn’t been enough for her. When Susie Q had zipped the eddies to you and Ada both, you’d been more than ready to leave and call it quits. Ada, though, had other plans. As per usual. 

You liked to think that, after years of running the edge, you’d built up some toughness. Some professional veneer. Hard to make a living as a merc if you didn’t look like you could get shit done, but even you had blushed a bit when Ada told the goddamn Queen of the Moxes that you were not only a merc but a musician? You were sure that you’d looked like your circuitry overheated. 

Still, one thing had led to another and when the opener band for tonight canceled . . . well, here you were, pouring your heart and soul into the microphone, shredding on your guitar. It’s not the music that usually plays at Lizzie’s, but you don’t give a shit because it’s yours and the people here seem to be enjoying it. More importantly, Ada is enjoying it. Maybe not for the music itself, but because it’s you that’s performing it.

She gives you a fox’s smile as your eyes meet hers, and you can tell from the way she’s watching you that she likes seeing you like this - unburdened and free. 

It’s the look she gives you when she’s in a mood, when you know that the night is going to end with you tangled in her bedsheets, and all that thought does is make you sing harder. You sway your body as you play, bobbing your head and hips to the tune you spent so many hours agonizing over. In that moment all those nights in a shitty apartment with your ‘ganic fingers aching against steel strings, it’s all worth it for this. 

Until you see Ada stand up from her corner booth, spare you one last glance, and walk off. You see her lips move and her optics glow orange like the fire you feel settling in your chest 

Phone call. 

She’s leaving your performance to take a phone call.  

You know Ada Wong well, you like to think. As well as any one person can know her, at least. Years spent as her partner in the streets and the sheets have given you wisdom into who she is, and you know that part of that person you’ve come to adore is a woman to whom biz comes first. Hell, most of the gigs that you’ve been on (the violent kind and now the musical kind as well) have been secured by her. She’s the reason you’re able to keep that shitty apartment, in a lot of ways. You don’t fault her for taking that call, even now. Even when you want her to be focused on you and only you. 

Still, you’re only human, despite the bits of chrome you’ve chipped over the years, and seeing Ada leave in the middle of your performance stings your painfully organic heart. 

Fortunately, you have an entire club full of other people whose attention you can earn, and with Ada gone . . . now you’re determined to milk that attention for all it’s worth. 

So you play on, your gaze sweeping the crowd. If you can’t have the eyes of the woman you want right now, then you’ll make damn sure you have everyone else’s. Your next song helps you with that - the last one of your little set that you’re playing. Your favorite. 

You get up close to the mic - an old fashioned one you brought yourself - and your lips nearly brush the woven metal as you begin the opening words. It’s a low, sensual thing, more suited to the BD bar you’re playing in, and as soon as your voice rasps out those first few lines, you earn a few whoops from the crowd. Adoration has always been your drug of choice, and you’re getting a damn good high from all this. It’s almost enough to fill the void Ada left in her wake. Almost. But you were never one to end in anything other than spectacular fashion. So, you make a point to let your eyes find everyone in the crowd who will look at you. Daring them to listen to you. To hear your siren song. To love you, even if it’s only until the last notes have left their eardrums rattling. 

Dozens of chromed out citizens of Night City, faces in the crowd bearing cyberware, lustful stares. Not everyone in Lizzie’s is watching you, but it’s enough. Those that are paying attention want you, you let yourself think as you go on, the song building. They want to be you or be with you. Narcissism has always been a facet of a good rocker, you’ve often thought, and for now, you indulge in it. 

How could you not, when the audience watches you like they wish they were slung across your hips instead of your guitar? 

When you hear them crying out as you begin to sing the song in earnest, picking up energy and tempo, your mesh and synth-leather outfit making you feel almost as powerful as the music does . . .

When you meet his gaze from across the bar, like something out of a cheap and cheesy braindance . . .

That gaze lingers, even as he tries to look away from you. To play it off like he wasn’t staring. 

But he was. 

There’s no escaping what you saw, and you make that clear to him as you lock your gaze onto him, letting him feel the heat of your stare. Because damn, he’s a nice person to stare at. He looks so out of place here, amidst all the Mox girls in their fishnets and the patrons who blend into the neon decor. You don’t glimpse any glowing tattoos or wild cybernetics on this man, oh no. Just a floppy haircut, a stylish blue and white edgerunner jacket, and a face that was, frankly, unfairly pretty. Not in the lethal way that Ada was beautiful; she could stop a heart with a look. This boy . . . he could melt one. 

He almost did just that as he sheepishly looked back at you, his gaze faltering under your stare. It was hard to tell under the bright pink and blue lights, but you swore he was blushing. 

Perfect.

If Ada wouldn’t pay attention . . .

You smile at the stranger as you sing, raising the hand that held your guitar pick and bringing it down hard across the strings of your instrument. The crowd cheers and that was reward enough, but the way that handsome man smiled at you? Oh, that was what made you give that last song your all. 

Lyric after lyric you sang into the mic, riff after riff you played on your guitar, and all the while, you keep your gaze on the shy young man at the bar. When he didn’t look away from you this time, you found yourself more than pleased. You wanted him to stare. You wanted him to ignore the men elbowing him at the bar and focus solely on you. And then . . . well, you decide you wanted a whole lot more than that. 

It was that man’s stare that keeps the performance alive as your set ends, as your voice tapers off, the music stopping. The high it all left in you stays as you take a bow and saunter off the stage, slinging your guitar onto your back. You intentionally let yourself get lost in the crowd, smiling as you see him crane his neck to try and catch a glimpse of you again. 

Cute. So fucking cute. 

You stalk through the bodies, effortlessly dodging those who wanted your attention. After all, you had your mind set on one man and one man only. 

As you approach, you can hear a conversation at the bar - mostly one sided, from the sounds of it. 

“Come on, Kennedy,” a young man said, his words slurred. “There’s only one reason to come to Lizzie’s, and it ain’t just to look.” You could see the person speaking as you moved through the crowd. Young, just like he sounded. Drunk, very clearly. Unremarkable, except for the fact that he was leaning hard into the one person in this bar you wanted to speak to. 

Kennedy, apparently.

And this Kennedy looked rather uncomfortable as the man with him and those around him at the bar all snickered. 

“Plenty of girls here,” another one piped in, clearly knowing each other, “or guys, whatever.” 

“I know-”

“Oh, but he ain’t looking at all of them. Choom’s only been looking in one place all night-” 

“Hey, don’t blame him. Been looking for that one in the catalog all night myself-” 

“And you won’t find me there,” you say, butting in as you break through the throng of bodies at last. The rowdy party assembled at the bar goes silent for a moment as you approach. You like that. Almost as much as you like how Kennedy’s expression turns all nervous when you fix your eyes on him. “Sorry. Not a Mox, just performing here for the night.” 

There were a few groans of disappointment that you took as a compliment. The catalog was a Lizzie’s Bar specialty - a list of the fine joytoys that worked here. You see a dancer you like, you find them in the catalog, then you find a braindance they recorded to buy. A safe enough practice, with the Mox watching. No actual touching involved, just the simulated memories of sex. Intimacy without actual intimacy. 

Not what you were here for, tonight. 

“Damn shame,” one of the young women accompanying Kennedy drawled. “You should consider it. You’d make a killing, you know.” 

“Thanks for the advice,” you say, letting the woman’s invasive stare roll off of you. Let her look. She wouldn’t be touching, simulated or otherwise. “Now,” you said, turning your attention towards the man you’d come here for, “mind if I steal you away from your friends?” you asked, your eyes smokey as they fixed themselves on the pretty man who’d been staring at you while you performed. 

Kennedy just looked at you like he wasn’t sure this was real. Like maybe he’d already been pulled into a braindance without him knowing. 

“To, uh . . . do what?” He was surprised. Even after you’d basically sang your song to him directly, he was surprised. 

So, you laughed, shaking your head and speaking like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “To dance.”

Kennedy just looks at you like you’ve offered him the moon. It’s a look that, frankly, makes you wish you had optics installed so you could take a picture. You can’t remember the last time someone looked that excited to dance with you. 

Unfortunately, Kennedy doesn’t seem to be the only one excited.

“Nah, come on,” the drunk woman slurs, moving closer to you. Too close. “You won’t have any fun with the boy scout. Dance with me . . .” her hand finds your waist. “Won’t even need to rent a BD with me, baby.”

“Hey,” Leon stands, then. Ready to intervene. Ready to pull his comrade off of you.

He doesn’t get the chance, though.

Not when, with bolts of blue, you reach up and rest a palm against her cybernetic arm . . . and then she’s all but shot back against her bar stool, her eyes wide and her hair sticking up with static at the ends. The group looks like they’re ready to intervene, come to their friend’s defense . . . but the Moxes at the bar, the ones who are very openly carrying iron and have cybernetics of their own, make them halt. Hot-headed as the group is, they know better than to piss off the gang who runs this place. 

You lower your hand, electricity sparking from the cybernetic palm on your dominant hand - one of the few bits of chrome you’ve chipped in recent years. You aren’t sure if the sparks reflecting in his eyes are the only reason Leon’s expression looks so bright as he looks at you.

“Um . . . that was . . . shocking,” he says with a boyish smile.

You snort because, “Damn, choom, that was bad.” Either way, you offer him your other, fully organic hand. “Think you owe me a dance to make up for a shitty joke, no?” 

His palm against yours is all the answer you need.  

The main band has started playing. Purples and blues washed over the two of you as you guided him, music pulsing from the speakers loud enough to rattle your bones. Ada, as much as you look for her, is still notably absent. You had to shout as you faced him at last with a smile. “You looked like you needed rescuing!” 

The corners of his mouth turned up and god damn his smile was more breathtaking than it had any right to be. “That obvious, huh?” 

“Almost as obvious as your staring.” 

Just like that, his smile is gone. Zipped away like a light turning off. He looks absolutely mortified. “I . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You laugh, shaking your head. Your hands find his easily, and you don’t miss how he goes still amidst the moving bodies around the two of you. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, leaning in so he can hear you better. “I was staring back, wasn’t I?” 

Disbelief. Then acceptance, and his smile is back. Boyish. Adorable. “Yeah, I guess you were.” He doesn’t pull his hands away. Good. 

“Kennedy, right?” 

“Leon,” he shakes his head. “Kennedy’s my last name.” 

Bold of him, giving out his full name in Night City. Then again, you supposed that anyone with a good scanner built into their optics could learn that much about him without him even saying. Lucky for him, you possess no such cyberware. Even if Ada keeps insisting that you should. No, you’re still mostly ‘ganic, despite your line of work. This man before you, though . . . he’s even more so. Not hardly any chrome at all, at least that you can see. Just that pretty face and a streak of color in his hair that you didn’t notice at a distance. Blue, you think. You give him your own name easily enough when he asks. You like the way he smiles when he says it back. 

“So . . . you, uh, wanted to dance?” he asks, a little more confident now. 

You just give him a dazzling grin, taking his hands and guiding them to your hips. “To start.” 

Turned out to be just that: the start. 

The main band finished their set and Ada hadn’t come back yet, so you pull Leon into a corner booth and paid for his drink (he has to pull out a physical ID, which is fucking hilarious to you), needing a break from dancing. The two of you had worked up a sweat, after all, but his hands had never wandered. Not once. Not even if you would have been alright if they had. No, he’d been nothing but respectful, and continued to be just that. Still, he didn’t shy away from you, either. Not now, as your side was pressed up against his in a corner booth, your smiles and conversation easily exchanged. 

“Do you play here often?” he asks, and you hope the question is borne of a desire to see you again. A hope that if he returns to Lizzie’s, you’ll be there. It also tells you that he’s not a regular. 

“Nah,” you shake your head. “First time, actually. I ran a gig for Susie Q, so she let me play the night as a bonus.” 

“Oh,” Leon nods. “But you’re not with the Moxes, you said?” 

“Nope.” 

There was some hesitation as he asks what kind of job it was you’d done for the gang. 

“Some Maelstrom boys had been stalking some of the dancers,” you answered simply, with a shrug. “They felt like something was off, but they didn’t want to risk any Moxes going onto Maelstrom turf to hunt them down, so I went instead. Gangoons won’t be following anyone anymore.” You and Ada had made sure of that. 

The answer seems to appease Leon, the knot in his brow smoothing out. Still, he seems to be puzzling something out in his mind. “So you’re . . . uh, a merc, then?” It’s like he doesn’t want to throw the label around. Like he’s afraid it’ll bother you. 

Definitely not a regular.  

“You could say that, yeah,” you nod. “Trying to make more of a living with this-” you nudge your guitar, leaning up against the booth seat at your side, “but songs don’t make you a ton of eddies until you go big.” 

“I think if you keep at it, you’ll get there.” He sounds so sure of that, and if he’s trying to win points in your book, it’s sure as hell working. “You’re pretty damn good.” 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, you know,” you grin, and Leon laughs. He’s, frankly, too damn sweet for a place like this. 

So, after a moment, you decide to voice the obvious.

“Hope you don’t mind me sayin’, but doesn’t seem like your scene, this place,” you observe, your fingers tracing the rim of the angular glass in your hand. You lift it to your lips but don’t drink the tequila in it. Not until you gesture to the crowd that still lingers at the bar - the one you stole Leon away from. “And your friends don’t seem like, well, friends.” 

Leon chuckles, shrugging to concede your point. “It’s not. And they aren’t. Well . . . no, not really.” It’s an admission delivered with a laugh and a shake of his head, his fringe falling a little over his eye. 

“So why come at all?” 

A tilt of his head. A look almost like a grimace. 

He was here for a graduation party, he tells you. His party, and the people with him. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but they’d dragged him along anyway. Last night of freedom. 

“What college?” You ask, and he stalls for a moment. 

“Oh, uh, local in Watson. Nothing too fancy.”  

Wasn’t often you met a college educated individual, much less one who went to Lizzie’s. Watson, as a district, was known more for its gang violence and clubs than its colleges. In short, his answer didn’t sound true at all, to you. You blamed it on the alcohol. Or maybe he was lying. Either way, none of your business, you supposed, so you smiled and congratulated him. 

“What about you? Where’d you learn to play like that?” 

A favorite question of yours to answer, because of the pride it instilled in you. “My old man taught me the basics. Everything else, I learned myself.” No schooling, no fancy training. Just you and a hand-me-down six-string, the way of the rockerboys of old. 

Leon was just as thrilled to hear your answer as you were to give it, it seemed. 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.”

“That’s . . . damn, I would have thought you’d studied somewhere formally.” 

That gets a laugh from you. “I don’t think there’s a single formal thing about me,” you declare, shaking your head and downing your tequila.

Leon laughs too. “That’s okay,” he reassures you. “I never really liked suits. The clothing or the people in them.” 

“Now that is an attitude I can get behind,” you agree, setting the glass down. When you look back up, you’re closer to him. Leaning a little more into his side. Ada still isn’t here. It’s been, what, half an hour? More? Wouldn’t be the first time she’s ditched you. Nor the first time you’ve found someone else to keep you entertained for the night. “So,” you go on, “what things do you like?”

Leon’s a glass of whiskey in, now. They call it liquid courage for a reason, even nowadays. You think you have that drink to thank for the way his eyes, for just a split second, flit down to your lips. “You’re definitely making your way onto that list.” 

Oh hell yes. 

“Just making my way onto it?” You ask, your mouth curving up into a smirk. “Damn. Here I thought I was doing well.” 

“You are,” Leon says, his tone just a little rushed. Cute. He leans in a little closer. “Trust me, you are.” 

Pride widens your smile, as it so often does. “Thought so.” 

“And . . . how am I doing?” He sounds hopeful. His eyes are on yours, searching. Questioning. His thigh tenses a little against yours, his hand resting on it and brushing your own. 

You know better than to waste time, so you slide your hand over his. “Oh, you’re doing pretty damn good, I’d say.” 

Leon’s eyes flash under the club’s lights. His Adam’s apple bobs. He’s so, so close now, but you want him to be closer. “Do you . . . do you have more songs than what you played tonight?” he asks, and you can tell it’s a leading question. 

You nod, your voice even. Steady. “Lots more.” 

The answer makes Leon smile wider. “I’d like to hear them.” 

“I don’t play for free,” you said, deciding to take a little lead yourself. “Not even for someone as cute as you.” 

There’s just a moment that hangs between the two of you, filled with pulsing music and flashing lights that all seems to fade. Leon doesn’t hesitate for any longer than that, though.  

“Would a date be good payment?” 

There it is. It’s not what you should be looking for, not when you’ve got a beautiful woman you’ll likely be going home with, but damn if it doesn’t make your heart warm. 

A date. 

“Hmmm,” you lean in, very nearly pressing your smile against his own. Your words are an echo of before. You know that’s not the only reason they make Leon grin. “To start.” 

He surprises you, then. You don’t think that he’s going to, but he leans in anyway. It’s soft. Not the kind of kiss you’re used to. It speaks of firsts and tentative steps, caution and hope. He pulls away almost as soon as he starts, just to ask “Is this okay?” 

And in no time at all you’re pressing him into the booth, mouths moving against each other. You swap the tastes of tequila and whiskey, and you find that as sweet as he is, he kisses desperately. There isn’t much finesse to it, but damn if he doesn’t make up for it with eagerness. He opens his mouth to you when you brush your tongue against his lips, and your fingers slide into soft hair and-

“Did you get bored while I was gone?” Her voice makes you smile, but it makes Leon freeze. 

“You left me all alone,” you said, not at all bothered as you peel your gaze away from the man beside you. A man who, you realize, looks like he would short-circ, if he had chrome on him. “Had to find some company.” 

You’re a little disappointed that Ada doesn’t look bothered. Then again, she so seldom does. Especially not when she likes whoever you’ve found to keep yourself occupied with. Whether she does like Leon or not . . . well, that remains to be seen. You know that the verdict is forming, though, as her optics flash blue, a telltale sign that she’s conducting a scan of the man sitting beside you. 

“You . . .” Leon stammers, looking between you and the woman now standing on the other end of the table. “Are you-”

“With me? That fact might have slipped our . . . friend’s mind.” 

“Just like you slipped away for most of the night,” you shoot back, giving Ada a knowing smile. 

You know she isn’t mad, not really, when her own mouth curls up just a touch. 

Was it shitty of you not to mention you were here with someone? Yes. But you know Ada doesn’t mind. That’s always been how the two of you operate. Free to roam where you please so long as you always come back home. Doesn’t mean you don’t try to make her jealous and vice versa, every so often. Doesn’t mean you don’t really, really like the man you were just kissing. 

You just have to hope that Leon will understand.

Fortunately, Ada speaks before you get the chance to, her tone smooth as synth leather. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, and her optics return to their normal dark hue. 

She looks completely unfazed, but Leon looks utterly taken aback. 

You can’t help but smile as she studies Leon’s face just a touch longer, because you can practically see her making a decision. Ada is always good at that - thinking on her feet. And you’re good at reading her. Enough so that you catch on immediately when her usual reserved demeanor shifts. She smiles at Leon, her eyes “Thanks for keeping my musician company, Leon.” Ah, so she’d found his name already. “Now, hope you don’t mind the interruption,” she said, sliding into the booth. Not on your side, though. Oh, no. No, instead, Ada took a seat beside Leon, resting her elbow on the table as she leaned over it. “And I hope you don’t think three is a crowd, either.” 

He doesn’t know how he got here. 

Well, he knows how he physically got here: a trip in a sleek red car to the appropriately named No-Tell Motel, two flights up and three doors down to a room that smelled like cigarettes and cheap perfume. Even with the whiskey in his system, that part of the journey is clear enough. The part where he ended up sandwiched between two of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen, though? The how of him ending up with your lips and Ada’s taking turns at his throat? 

Yeah, he has no fucking clue how that happened. All Leon knows as he grasps at both of you desperately is that he doesn’t want it to end. 

“Oh my god . . .” he manages, feeling you sucking at his throat, feeling Ada’s body pressed up against his back, her hands wandering his chest. 

You sure you’re alright with this? you’d asked before you all drove to the motel, smiling that dazzling smile of yours.

Leon, in truth, hadn’t been quite sure. Not because he didn’t want you both, but because no way in hell was this happening to a nobody like him. How did he catch your attention from the crowd? How did you actually seem to enjoy his shitty jokes and poor attempts at flirting? How did Ada appear and seem miraculously alright with him kissing you, her partner? It was all too good to be true. Some part of him knew that. Another part knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Just as he and his fellows shouldn’t have gone to Lizzie’s in the first place.

Last night of freedom, they’d insisted. Last chance to go there and get your cherry popped.  

Because people like him didn’t go to places like Lizzie’s. Or, they shouldn’t. Not for the ethics of it, though that should have been a factor, maybe. Rather, because the Night City Police Department and gangs didn’t exactly mix well. Neither did badges and mercenaries. It was why he’d lied to you, even if he’d felt bad about it. It wasn’t a local college that he’d just graduated from. Wasn’t a diploma he’d gotten, but rather, a badge. Maybe you’d understand. Maybe he’d tell you, eventually, if this ended up being more than a one night stand. 

He hoped it would be, however foolish that thought was. It was foolish to have left the bar with you and Ada at all, in truth. But he trusted you. Dumb move, maybe, but he did. 

Maybe it was the genuine way you’d looked at him before you all got in the car. The way you’d given him an out. He should have taken it. Instead, he’d nodded. I’m sure.

Maybe he’d spoken too soon, because as your teeth graze his skin, he’s not quite sure he’s going to survive what’s to come. 

But what a way to go.

“Oh, I think he likes you,” Ada hums, amused, her breath hot against Leon’s ear as she pulls his jacket off his shoulders. “Don’t you?” she asks him, and he can only nod. 

Of course he likes you. 

Since he heard you sing the first few notes of your song, he’s nursed a suckerpunch crush on you. One that he’d been fully prepared to write off as puppy love and expect nothing to come of it. And now, here you were, kissing your way back up his throat. 

His thoughts aren’t enough for Ada, though. She bites at his earlobe, tugging on it before she speaks again. “Come on, handsome. We can’t hear you.”

She has a voice like smoke, and Leon can’t help but do as she asks. “Yes,” he nods again. “I like . . . both of you.” 

That earns him a laugh from you and Ada both. “I like you too,” you murmured, finding his lips once more. Leon doesn’t hesitate to kiss back, and Ada hums a laugh in his ear.  

“Then maybe you should show him how much you like him,” she suggests, and after Leon gives his approval, it’s all he can do not to moan as you sink to your knees in front of him. You put on a show before, at the bar, and you do the same thing now, looking up at him as you undo his belt, his pants . . . 

He’s aching by the time you free him, your lips pushing his shirt up so you can kiss at his belly and then down. Ada helps you without needing to be asked, tugging the shirt up. Leon catches up and lifts his arms, leaving himself mostly bare. No intensive cyberware chipped into his skin, no modifications besides the blue streak he’s dyed in his hair and a long-closed piercing hole in his ear. Just him. He barely has any time to be nervous about any of that before he feels your lips at the tip of him.

He might as well be a goner, then. 

Your tongue runs up him in a smooth motion, and Leon’s head falls backwards, nearly headbutting Ada behind him. “I’m so sorry!” he insists, nearly stopping to turn and make sure she isn’t hurt, but the woman keeps him in place, shaking her head. 

“It’s alright,” she reassures him. She brushes her lips against his cheek as you set to work, silent as she watches you take Leon in your mouth. She seems pleased, but Leon is a little too far gone to notice, his heart hammering as he struggles to figure out what to do with his hands. Should he grab your head? Reach back for Ada? He doesn’t know, and ends up just clenching his fists at his sides, watching in awe as your lips part and ease around him. 

“Fuck-” he chokes out, glad for Ada supporting him, her silky dress pressed up against his back as her hands trace up his chest. 

“Doesn’t it feel good?” she whispers to him, like she’s proud of your efforts.

“Oh god yeah,” he nods, knowing that she likes hearing his words. 

Your hands run up his thighs, one finding purchase on his ass, pulling him closer as you bob your head. 

He gets lost in watching you, letting you guide him into moving until he’s thrusting his hips in time with you. It’s too much, too good, and Leon can’t look away as your eyes lock on him. You may be the one on your knees, but he’s completely surrendered to you and Ada both. Ada, who, as Leon gasps, reaches up and grasps his chin, craning his head back towards her. Her eyes glow blue as she makes him look at her, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he pants. Ada locks eyes with him in that moment, the flickering blue glow like a neon lure. Leon doesn’t even get to lean in, though, before Ada kisses him, her lips trapping the sound of his moan. 

He’s trapped between the two of you, a dual endeavor that he can only get lost in. At last, he reaches up, one hand on the back of your head, the other winding through Ada’s dark hair. 

He won’t last. Not like this. Not as you take him all the way and his eyes nearly roll back into his head. Only then does he push you away, a little too hasty as he separates from Ada. “Wait-” he gasps, looking between the two of you. 

Concern flashes across your eyes, but Leon quickly assuages it. 

“I can’t be the only one feeling good,” he says, cracking a soft and breathless smile. He wouldn’t feel right about letting the two of you give him so much attention. 

By the way your eyes sparkle, he knows you appreciate the idea. “You got a point,” you grin, giving him a few last kisses before rising to your feet. “What do you have in mind?” 

Ah. 

That much, Leon hadn’t really considered. 

He looks between the two of you, suddenly dumbstruck once again. He’s never done this before. Well, not with two people. This is something straight out of a braindance that he’s only ever imagined experiencing for real. It’s too much and you’re both there waiting for him and-

“I have an idea,” Ada suggests, rescuing him from his confusion. 

So, a few moments later, she’s kissing you as she and Leon work together to rid you of your outfit. Not that there’s much to remove. Leon can’t help but take in the sight of you; each inch of skin bared is a gift in and of itself, one that he drinks in as you stand before him at last. He takes in every detail he can in the dim light. The lines of any cyberware on you, the little imperfections that make you, well, you. He’s honored and overwhelmed and that’s even before Ada guides his hands towards you. 

At the same time his skin touches yours, his heart pounds as Ada pulls you in for a bruising kiss. It’s a heated thing, one that makes clear the attraction between the two of you. Leon catches tongues tangling together, and the sight is enough he feels he might combust. 

It isn’t long, though, before Ada parts from you and guides you towards Leon instead. She steps aside and Leon lets you walk him back, your mouth on his and your tongue slipping out to dip between his lips. His knees hit the back of the bed and he falls all too willingly, his back meeting the shiny pink tiger-print sheets. It’s not the kind of place where he’d usually choose to be with someone, but tonight isn’t the kind of night he usually has, either. 

His inhibitions are long since gone as you crawl over him on the bed, your lips meeting his again, your hand moving between his legs. 

He’s so caught up in the moment, he barely registers Ada moving in behind you, one arm wrapping around you to play where you’ve yet to receive attention. You moan into Leon’s mouth, and he swears it’s almost as good to hear as your singing. Almost . 

Ada whispers something into your ear - Leon can’t hear quite what it is - and you nod. She kisses up the side of your neck before she leaves, allowing you to put all your attention on Leon. Allowing him to move his hand to take Ada’s place. You hum as he touches you, and fuck, there’s no better incentive to keep going than that. His hand, his fingers, his movements become more bold, his breath leaving him in desperate pants as he touches you. Trying to give you a fraction of what he’s been given so far. Your forehead presses against his as the kiss breaks, your eyes finding his in a way that’s far, far too intimate.

Then Ada returns, her fingers wet with something. Leon nearly asks where she got the lube from, but he imagines that a motel like this one has things prepared for all kinds of clandestine meetings. Or maybe Ada is just more prepared than he thought. 

Either way, she reaches down and Leon’s face goes bright red as he watches her slide a finger into you. Then two. His hand falters for a moment, and you laugh amidst your sighs. “Come on, Leon,” you say, your voice sparking with challenge. “Don’t stop now.” 

He does as you ask. How could he refuse? His hand and Ada’s work in harmony, and you close your eyes, shivering above him on the bed. You rock yourself back against Ada’s hand, kissing at Leon’s neck as you move. 

At least, you did until Ada guided you up and away, making you crane your neck to kiss her, just as she’d done with Leon. Again, Leon could only watch as the two of you kissed, hearing the panting breaths you exchanged. Seeing the way you clung to each other. His breath caught in his throat as he saw you unzip Ada’s dress, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in a black lingerie set that was, frankly, too perfect. All of her is too perfect. She has to have had some realskinn installed over cyberware, because no one is that perfect. He almost felt like he’d intruded on a private moment until Ada pulled away from your lips and reached for Leon, perfectly manicured fingers tracing his jawline. “I think he wants you,” she said, her lips trailing along your jaw. 

She was telling true. Leon couldn’t help but stare at both of you, a sentiment that you seemed to share. “Only if I can have both of you,” you said, leaning into Ada, mouthing at her neck. 

The pale woman hummed, smiling and shaking her head. “Greedy of you.”

“Hey,” you raised a brow, pulling away with a grin, “it’s my night. First show at Lizzie’s and all that, I think I deserve a reward.” 

Ada made a face, one of soft amusement, but nodded. “Alright then. Lie down.” 

You grin, not needing to be told twice. You kiss her on the lips, then do as she says, beginning to settle yourself on the edge of the bed. Leon watches you as you move beside him, very nearly following before he looks up at Ada once more. The smile she wore only moments before is gone, something in her eyes that Leon cannot place. 

He worries for a moment. He doesn’t know her - hell, he barely knows you - but he feels concern anyway. Fear that this might be making her uncomfortable. “Ada,” he speaks up, breaking the magic of the moment much against his own will. “Are you sure this is okay?” 

Dark eyes turn towards him, and there’s just a moment of indecision. Conflict. He can’t blame her, he supposes. She’s letting a stranger sleep with her partner. Leon very nearly feels wrong for even being here - but Ada shakes her head anyway. “It’s more than okay, handsome,” she promises and he finds nothing in her voice to suggest otherwise. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.” 

“Trust me,” you pipe up, sitting up a little on the bed, your hand over Leon’s more reassuring than it has any right to be, “if she wasn’t okay with you being here, she’d have kicked your ass to the curb back at the bar.” 

That much, Leon believes easily. Ada doesn’t seem like the type of woman to shy away from defending her wants. 

“Alright. I just . . . I’m sorry, I’ve never done anything like this before.” 

For the first time all night, Ada’s expression softens. Yours does too, and you speak first, squeezing his hand. “You’re doing great,” you reassure him. “Better than most, honestly.” He believes that well enough, too. “Don’t worry. You want to stop, we stop. Simple as that.” 

Ada watches carefully, but any worries she might have, Leon disarms when he shakes his head. “Don’t wanna stop,” he admits, bashful despite himself. “Not now.”

You smile, then, leaning up and sealing your lips to his. That’s really all he needs. 

So, with the dual reassurance, he lets himself be guided to the edge of the bed, positioned between your legs. Ada takes up a position at his back once more, whispering what you like in his ear. He can feel her skin against his, the lines of cyberware pressing against him, her hands over yours, guiding them to Leon’s hips. 

She lets him set his own pace, but you? Your legs wrap around his hips as your hands move up to his arms, all but dragging him towards you. Your eyes find Leon’s as he feels himself press in and oh good god he hadn’t been prepared for this. 

He whines and you groan and Ada soothes her hands over his back as he presses in and in and in until at last he can go no further. His hands rest on either side of you, clutching at those stupid motel covers, his lips parted once more. You lean up and kiss him, eager to start, it seems. 

Leon sure as hell isn’t going to disappoint you. 

So, he starts to move his hips, forgetting himself as he feels not only the warmth of you around him, but the warmth of Ada at his back. She doesn’t kiss his neck anymore, she just remains there, watching as Leon sets a slow, steady pace. 

When the kiss ends, though, you seem to want her more involved than that. 

“You look lonely over there,” you pant, reaching one hand towards her. 

Ada doesn’t seem to need convincing, either. 

Of all the things Leon has seen in his life, watching her strip the black panties off her hips and climb over you on the bed is one that he thinks will be the end of him. She takes up her position without much hesitation, framing your face between thigh-high stockings. She doesn’t even take off her heels, and as far as Leon is concerned, that only adds to the utter mind-shattering sight as she lowers herself. 

You don’t wait, either, your tongue reaching out to taste her as Leon thrusts into you, and that’s when it really hits him. 

He’s sharing a bed with two beautiful strangers he met at the bar. He’s in a scenario that should be impossible, honestly, but damn if you don’t feel good squeezing him and look even better as you reach up, wrapping an arm around Ada’s thigh to hold her down on your face. She closes her eyes for a moment, sighing as you work, and all Leon can do is stare. 

When those dark eyes open again, Leon doesn’t stop, and the two of them end up locked in a moment of equal exchange, a shared space where only the feeling of you seems to matter. 

Leon groans as your hips move against his, and his mind all but going blank. He picks up the pace, the room fading away. No cheap decorations, no stains best left uninvestigated. Nothing but the heat of you, the sound of your muffled moans and Ada’s panting breaths.

And through it all . . . god, he can’t look away from her. 

She holds his gaze too, like they’re both stuck there, caught immobilized. Like she’s deciding something, he realizes. 

Whatever it was, she eventually finds the answer to her internal question and reaches for him. “Touch me, handsome,” she commands, reaching for his hands and placing them deliberately on her bare hips. Letting him feel each undulation as she moves atop you. 

So he does as she asks yet again, his hands traveling up her body, feeling the smooth skin, the curves of muscle, the slope of her neck . . . he’s leaning in. He knows it. She makes another decision, and then she’s leaning in, too. He’s breathing heavy as he moves, taking one hand away from her to hold your hips. Faster and faster, him and Ada both. Your hand moves up to tease between Ada’s legs and she moans. Leon does the same, the hand at you hip moving between your legs. He whimpers when he feels himself getting close and god, he can’t help himself. 

Ada’s lips are soft against his, and whatever reservations she displays in that initial kiss quickly fade. She kisses him harder, a hand in his hair, her tongue in his mouth.

He hears you moan from between Ada’s legs. Feels his own body tensing. “I’m-” each word is a struggle because he can’t think. It’s been so long and he never, ever thought-

But it doesn’t matter what he thought, because in that moment, he’s with the two of you. The two of you, who both hold on to him as best you can as he cries out, his hands dropping to the mattress once more to steady himself as pleasure hotwires his whole body. It’s too much, his eyes squeezing shut as he shudders, weeks and months of tension washing away for just a moment as he finally just exists. Pleasure is all that matters for a few blissful seconds, and the fact that he’s sharing it with someone who has such soul in them - someone who is being shared with him, in turn. 

You follow Leon over the edge a moment later as he remembers he’s not alone in his bliss. His hand picks up the pace and you squeeze your legs around him, grinding into him until your release finds you. The moan you give is trapped between Ada’s thighs as the beautiful woman watches you finish. She sighs, still rocking against you. 

Through his momentary haze, thick as smog, Leon sees Ada try to rise from you, but your arms hold her in place. The woman above you makes a sound, as close to a whine as Leon thinks she can manage, and ultimately decides to stay in place. 

Leon doesn’t want to leave you to do all the work yourself, so he leans in. His hands reach up, a little nervous, trying to help. To feel her. He’s sure he made the right choice when her own hands come to rest over his, holding him against her skin. She lets him kiss her, and before long Leon’s lips capture her own moan as, at last, she shivers atop you.

She pants when it’s done, but Leon can see you still lapping at her, not stopping until, at last, Ada disentangles herself from you and sits off to the side of you. 

Now that he can finally see your face, Leon can only smile at how utterly pleased with yourself you look, your lips shiny and pulled into a wide smile. 

“Satisfied?” Ada asks, looking down at you with a genuine affection. 

You nod, and Leon sighs, glad, as you speak. “Ohhh yeah. Definitely.” You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand as you answer. Leon might as well be swooning as the other hand runs up and down his back. The smile you give him, one shared between him and Ada both, is one he never, ever wants to forget. 

You were stunning up on that stage, surrounded by lights. Now, though? You might be the most incredible thing he’s ever seen and he can barely look away. 

Ada is more reserved, nodding with a look Leon can’t quite read. “Good.” 

Then, with that, she moves to get off the bed.

“Mm, where do you think you’re going?” you ask, your hand stilling on Leon’s back.

Ada’s expression quickly brightens to a more sparkling look. “To the bathroom to get cleaned up. Then I have to go.” 

Leon frowns at that, but then, so do you. “No no no, you ain’t gettin’ out of this that easy-” 

“This was your night, remember?” Ada points out, her tone more adoring than Leon had heard so far. It almost makes him feel less nervous about Ada’s sudden and impending departure. “Take the night to play,” she says, standing from the bed, her hips swaying as she makes her way to the bathroom. “I appreciate being included, but your new friend looks like he wants more of your attention.” 

That’s all she says before the door slides open and closed, and she disappears behind it. 

Before Leon can even really think about it, you’re turning your attention back towards him. “You alright?” you ask, grinning like some cheshire cat. “Know this isn’t probably how you thought your night was gonna go-”

“It definitely wasn’t,” Leon admits, laughing a little breathlessly. “But I’m . . . I’m good. Really good.” 

Of course, there’s one concern on his mind, and he speaks more quietly then so she might not hear him. 

“She’s not mad, is she?” 

You catch his meaning immediately, looking up and over at the closed door. “Nah. Ada’s not one for staying the night,” you shrug. “Even when it’s just the two of us, she usually deltas before the sun’s up.” You’re casual enough about it that he believes you. At least enough not to feel too much concern. 

“You two are . . . thank you. For letting me . . .” he feels nervous even saying it, even though the deed is done. 

That fact makes you smile and laugh, your hand coming up to brush at the hair hanging over his eyes, toying with the streak of blue in it. “Thank you for joining. And for liking my music.” 

Leon hums as you guide him down to kiss you once more, his eyes closing and his mouth curving into a gentle smile. 

He wants to ask if he can hear more of that music. To see if you’ll play for him again, if he’ll see you and Ada again. The question gets caught in his throat, though. Stuck before it can be fully realized. He was lucky enough to even have a night like this, he wouldn’t dare to dream that there could be more. 

“I meant what I said, by the way,” you murmured to him a moment later, though, and it seems he doesn’t even have to dream at all. “I’d love to play you some more of my music sometime. Like every asshole with a guitar that you know.” 

Leon doesn’t even laugh at the joke because, frankly, he’s too high on hope to risk something that might fuck it all up. 

“I would love that.” 

You really do have an incredible smile. “Good.” 

“Was this payment enough to hear that music?” he asks.

You just shrug and he knows what you’re going to say even before you speak. 

“To start.” 

The light flickers over the sink. There’s spiderweb cracks in the glass. A fractured image staring back at her. 

Even cheap motel furnishings had something to say, seemed like.

No. This isn’t a mirror programmed to spit compliments or harsh truths. Just a broken piece of glass. It’s her conscience doing the talking, weighing on her heavy as she hears laughter in the motel room just outside that door. 

You like him. That much is obvious, and Ada can’t blame you. Leon is sweet. Handsome. A good soul - a damned rare thing in Night City. 

He would learn better soon. 

Best he learn at her hands, and not someone else’s. 

That’s what she tells herself as she steps back, an invisible neural switch activating. Her eyes glow blue once more as information comes to life, all spelled out for her eyes only. Then, pieces of her skin glow too. Her hips, her thighs, her chest and cheek . . . an artwork glowing against her realskinn, one inked unknowingly by two pairs of hands. 

She was only interested in one of those pairs, though. 

Ada disregarded your prints. Swiped the ID away. It was the new touch that she needed. The one that belonged to a kind young man who’d merely been enamored with you. A man with a newly earned badge tied to his name - one that Ada had discovered in the milliseconds it took to complete a facial scan.

The rest had been harder to obtain. 

Facial scan.

Retinal scan.

Fingerprints.

Biometric profile construction complete: Leon S. Kennedy.

A loading bar in her heads-up display filled in, the fingerprints highlighted on her skin fading. Even as she turned the water on, washing herself off, cleaning up her makeup and smoothing down her hair, she didn’t feel clean. 

Never really did, in Night City. 

Still . . . a girl had to make a living. 

Next Chapter (Coming soon!)

Chapter Index

[miimo96]

Thoughts on My Adventures with Superman S2 FINALE

This has me kinda scared because Normally when this happens, it usually means 2 thing's; 1 this is either going to be Very long episode or 2, Somebody's going to die, and with the way the creator's have been teasing us with Tweets about Kara's demise, I'm guessing it's the ladder, and if that's the case WTF DC

Also if had a nickel for everytime that a Giant spaceship threatened to Destroy Earth as a way to Rebuild krypton in a Superman story, I'd have 2 nickels, which isn't alot, but it's weird that it's happened twice

So lemme get this straight, this Lex is smart enough to build the parasite suit, have a fail safe for that, is able to frame Superman gaining Millions of followers and government access, infuse Kryptonite to Kryptonian built robots, but isn't smart enough to come up with a fail safe when said robots get hacked!?....yeah I call Bullshit

Hell yeah the Cavalry's here! oh, and Sam too I guess whatever, listen the FANS might've forgiven your ass for abandoning lois 6 episodes ago, but I sure as hell don't, in all seriousnes tho I am glad he got some sort of character development regarding his relationship with Superman, seeing it as how he is now trying to help him instead of ya know, Trying to Kill him 😅 btw I kinda feel stupid for asking myself how the heck they turned invisible, only to realize they were actually holding on to Only the character who Can turn invisible Lol 😅😅 also did anyone else immediately thought've Lobo when he said the Main man, no, just me

Wow I can't belive they actually gave Kara the Winter soldier treatment, from the brainwashing, Down to him effing reactivating it like freakin Zemo, Well looks like Clark's gonna have to fight his cousin again, hopefully he doesn't end up like last time, or if not maybe Jimmy can talk some sense into her, Seeing as how it was seeing a picture of Jimmy which resulted in her breaking free from Brainiacs control, maybe this where he can finally confesses his feelings for her, Omg I would love that ^w^

Wait you're telling me Brainiac Did it, that he's the reason why krypton exploded, that HE Killed clarks and Kara's parents!? Oh nah Brainiac gotta die now, also has anyone else how similar he is to Zod, from his reasoning, to his personality, to even this whole effing scenario, like This is some shit Zod would've done, and it's funny because I was actually thinking about this not to long ago about how we technically don't need Zod in this show because Brainiac fits that role perfectly, especially with how he's been depicted this season, Omg if this was an intentional Detail on their part, then it's official, this show never ceases to Amaze me

Uh oh scary Kara's back, Damn it Brainiac why you gotta be such a Bitch; Also it may be nothing, but the way those missiles were moving kinda reminded of the way Darksides Omega beams would move, which got me thinking about something; What if Kryptons technology is possibly made from Apocalypse

This shot is ABSOLUTELY Beautiful; from the colors, to the camera work, to even the Symbolism between him and the Sun, everything was just Screams Superman

Tbh out of all the anime tropes they've done this season, I gotta say Talk no jutsu the 1 was NOT expecting them pull, and ya know what, I'm actually kinda glad they did, because it just fits Superman's MO; Superman has always been represented for kindness not his strength, like even if you've done him dirty, he'll still always choose to help you because that's just who he is, hes the person who just wants to help, he'll carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, he's the person who will try to stop a threat with his words before having to result to violence, he's the Man of Steel not because of what he can do, but because of who he is and always will be, hence why this trope works perfectly for him, it's the Perfect representation of what he embodies, Compassion, That's what makes him Superman

Ok I have a few things regarding this scene, 1st off i Absolutely love my 2 star children, 2nd of all Kara don't throw him into the sun, that's how make Nuclear man 😂 3rd of all, in all honesty, I was not worried 1 bit when Kara got shot mainly for 2 reasons; 1 even tho she was clearly shot by Kryptonite, they were directly near the sun and if I remember correctly, the Sun is what gives them their power, granting them the abilities to heal from critical wounds as well as even more strength, and because 2, kryptonians have invulnerable skin meaning she won't burn up from the sun even if she falls into it, all in all touching scene but No stakes

Kara's lighting's, Kryptonite Saber, Clean animation, Super sayian references!? OMG this episode is AMAZINGGG!! Also Kara's lighting's Red!? Ngl but I SWEAR I thought it was gonna be yellow, not because it would only go good with her hair, but because it in my opinion, it just fits her better, plus we did see kinda of it Start to spark in her fight against Brainiac 2 episodes ago, and since Clark's is blue it would only just made sense for hers to be yellow, hopefully maybe it can like evolve in season 3 or something, don't get wrong I like the Red but in my opinion, it just feels like a missed opportunity, In other News

Eff yeah Brainiac's Dead! Be honest, how many of you actually thought kara was dead after that scene, because my heart immediately stopped after she passed out 😅

Also can we talk about how Amazing Kara's suit looks, like Omg this Has to be one of the best desings I've seen, I just love everything about it from the colors to the boots all the way to especially the Cape, like I just love how it looks like a scarf UwU

AH siblings being siblings 😊 btw Love how he still has the shirt from when he was kid, Such a full circle moment, also when it comes to Kara's, this Kara, the kara from injustice 2, the CW show and even The FLASH movie are All of my favorite Kara's, every single one of them EXPECT and I can't believe I'm saying this, the 1 from the DCAU, like I'm sorry but in my opinion she was just too much of a hot head, and she barely had any screen time in Justice league, like I don't understand how did we stray so far from God, also she was incredibly weaker when it came to her cousin, this 1 on the other hand can slap her cousin around like it was a normal Tuesday, So yeah that's my Hot take come at me In the comments I dare you

Well well well looks like instead of mommy dosen't need you anymore, it's more like We don't need Mommy anymore, hell yeah Lex's finally going to be the Villain next season and I soo can't wait, oh and what's this, it looks like slade is gonna be his right hand now, oh yeah Slex is Definitely becoming cannon

🎵 Super rizz, Super rizz, here comes Clark's Super rizz 🎵

And with that another amazing end to another amazing series, Overall this season was freakin Epic, from the animation, to the music, to the character designs minus the robots, everything was just epic, from Start to finish; only thing to do Now is wait for season 3, but I wanna know you're thoughts, What did YOU think of season 2, and what was your favorite episode or moment from this series, comment or just leave a like if ya enjoyed this Thoughts on series, and lemme know if I should do more of this, Anyway I'mma head out because this took a while for me to write and I'm feeling kinda burnt out, Anyway yeah thank you for reading and I can't wait to see you again in S3, and with that, Superman Saturday's has come to an end, well, for now anyway ^^;

[bep1erfics]

hiiii welcome back!! can i request having a big argument with ricky and ignoring him for weeks (yn has a heart of steel 😓) before he finally walks up to you and starts crying in your chest begging you to forgive him? take your time iloveyouuuuuuu 💋💋💕

shen ricky - forgiven ⛅️

‼️ slightly suggestive, semi angst, happy ending

thank you for requesting! i havent property written in a while so the quality might not be there. nevertheless, enjoy reading :)

tossing and turning in your sheets, your puffy eyes felt heavy as tears started to tremble down your flushed cheeks, absorbing in the corners of your mouth where you could taste the saltiness. to your surprise, you had argued with your boyfriend, ricky, for the first time over something so petty. being upset that he ignored your existence for the whole duration of his friend’s party you tagged along to, your frustration got the best of you during the car ride home.

in silence, you crossed your arms and looked outside the dark, secluded area via the window. ricky knew you well enough to know that when you zipped your lips, something wasn’t right.

“baby, Is everything okay? what’s wrong?” he asked, while being soft spoken. ricky never raised his voice at you because he despised the people who treated their partners badly. this made his head spin as he didn’t quite realise why you were so upset. you’ve never acted like this before.

ricky being oblivious made you even angrier. the fact that he didn’t realise what he had done to cause you to shift into this state was like a sharp sting. suddenly, you raised your voice at him as you got out of the car, opening the door to his house to grab all your belongings. you were done with him.

shirts, photos, decorations magically appeared in your hands as you aimed them at ricky. after your fit, you finally got your things and left him behind as he begged you to not turn your back against him. being too angry to finally come to your senses that you had ruined a once loving relationship, your back turned against the boy you had been head over heels with. sometimes, you wished that you weren’t so hot-headed when it came to the stupidest things. however, what ricky did today made you furious.

 you knew you were in the wrong and that he got in the midst of catching up with his friends, but it was too late to apologise. you had already made up your mind. 

starting from today, speaking to ricky was not the ordeal. to be completely honest, you wanted to avoid him at all costs because you didn’t really know how to fully express the word sorry. so when the boy knocked on your door, you ignored him. when he came inside your room with flowers, you went outside and threw the bouquet in the bin. little did you know, this broke ricky's weak heart. what did he do wrong? he asked himself.

never once did you give in to his pleads, even though your heart told you otherwise.

as weeks had passed, you thought ricky would eventually take the hint that you didn’t wanna see him, and he did. in fact, he gave you space until he couldn’t take it anymore. so on a saturday night when your parents were out of town, he came crawling back to your feet.

you were getting ready to message ricky, but all of your messages got deleted as you frustratedly shut your phone and tossed it to the side.

“if only i wasn’t so harsh on him” you murmured into your pillow. as you had your little meltdown, you jump up in surprise as you hear a faint, but loud knock on your window.

“who’s there?”

streaks of blonde started to fly in the wind as you tried to contain your laughter. ricky, who was literally floating in the air hanging onto your window, was panting like he had just ran a marathon.

reluctantly, you let him in because you felt a little bad he did this all for you. within a second of climbing through the glass, ricky leaps into your arms and your whole body freezes.

his desperate hug felt like the warmth of the sun on a cool, winter day. he brought the light back in your eyes after what had seemed like years with no contact.

“i missed you so much, angel. i know you’re sick of me but i don’t think i can sleep tonight without checking up on you. i’m sorry for waiting this lon-“

not letting him finish his apology, you cupped his face and pressed your lips against his rose tinted, delicate lips. observing his glistening eyes, your heart softened as his tears were threatening to fall. with your hand still on his cheeks, you could tell that he lost a bit of weight.

“it’s not your fault. i’m sorry for ignoring you because i was mad that you weren’t paying me attention, but i realised how selfish i acted. i missed you too, ricky”

your voice broke as you embraced ricky tightly, reassuring the poor boy that you weren’t mad anymore and that it wasn’t his fault. he caressed your head and kissed your temples, repeating sorry all over again while he trailed his pecks all over your face to make up for the time you’ve spent away from eachother.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you. don’t shut me out again, please.”

the neediness in his voice was heavier than you could imagine. leaving faint marks on your neck, you didn’t know what to expect next. like a lion targeting his prey, he picked you up with ease and gently placed you on the bed, locking your gaze as the hunger in his movements gave you butterflies to the pit of your stomach.

that morning, you woke up to the face of the one and truly person you cared about. smiling, you tuck the front strands of his hair behind his ears. closing your eyes, you drifted back to sleep with relief, knowing you were safe in the presence of your knight in shining amour.

🤍

[heaven4lostgirls]

Work for it (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x reader, billy russo x reader

warning: angst, steve is still an ass but he's working on it! they also have a civil conversation for once

summary: the aftermath of the party, some closure and decison making.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: omg hey guys, been a while huh? *nervous chuckle* DONT HATE ME I'M SORRY I LOST MOTIVATION BUT I'M BACK NOW!

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

tag list: @blackhawkfanatic, @buckys-wintersoldier, @witchychanel, @nicoline1998enilocin, @vicmc624

Seeing Steve with Sharon playing happy families had been a slap in the face to put it kindly. Although you knew that Steve had brought her to invoke jealousy, it had also highlighted just how right you were to be suspicious of how much of a priority he made her.

You knew Tony and Bucky felt bad for letting them stay, and even though you had forgiven then, a part of you also felt guilty for feeling like some part of that night was partially their fault. Peter had been attached to your hip after the party, a little brother in every sense of the word, warding off any advances from men and just talking your ear off about his chem final he had last week.

You had indulged him for the most part, he was the only person you knew realistically that you’d be able to handle for such an extended amount of time. Most of the other avengers would play nice for the most part but most, if not nearly all felt a sense of protectiveness over you after your decision to end your relationship with Steve and there was only so much coddling one person could handle.

You were tuning the party out as you excused yourself from Peter, letting him know you were just going to get a refill and would be right back. The happy nod you received in return was enough to let a little bit of a drunk giggle leave your lips. As you reach the bar, you order another cocktail and as you gaze over the party, you see a lot of people you’ve never met but you know are influential, it comes to you that as much as this party was for you, it was also just a typical Tony Stark party.

You loved Tony but he often overdid most celebrations he was left in charge of, you would’ve been happy with a small cake and a movie night, but nonetheless, nobody would ever complain about a party this extravagant being thrown for them. As you receive your drink from the bartender you feel someone sit in the seat next to you, and before you turn your head you already recognise the figure. Bucky.

“Hey Buck” you greet softly as you turn in your seat to face him, he turns to you with an apologetic smile, “Hey Y/N/N.” he opens his  mouth to start off his apology but before he can speak, your hand is out and halting it. “Don’t Buck, honestly you’re not responsible for what Steve does and I’d really appreciate if you could stop taking it out on yourself whenever he does something idiotic, he’s a grown man Barnes” you state and you watch as his brows furrow before he nods, “Barnes?” he questions with a chuckle. “You’ve been demoted” you pout fakely as you smack a kiss on his cheek before trying to find Peter among the crowd of people.

You find him talking to a prestigious Harvard professor you had met once at a charity gala, you leave him be and attempt to find someone else you recognise but the sheer amount of people in the complex starts to overwhelm you and before you realise it, you’re making your way to the elevator to the roof so you can get some air.

The elevator ride is silent which gives you some time to reorganise your thoughts, as the steel doors open you make out a male figure looking at the skyline of the city. You pause and hesitate if you want to disturb them, in your inebriated state you can’t make out exactly who the person in but before you can call out and ask them if it’s okay to join them, they turn around you are met with the face of one guilty looking Steve Rogers.

You sigh and turn to leave but Steve’s voice breaks the cold night air, “Wait- Y/N please don’t go!” he yells, and you stop but don’t turn around. You hear his hurried footsteps to where you’re standing and in fear he’ll try to touch you, you turn around and hold your hand out to stop him. He looks sad but stays put, “I’ll talk to you if you don’t come any closer to me Steve and believe me if I see you even twitch your hand closer to mine, I’ll be gone, and you’ll never see me again” you threaten before making your way to the wall he stood looking out beforehand.

He sighs and nervously stands about a meter from where you’re standing, you two stand in silence for a couple seconds before you break it “Why did you bring her.” “I’m sorry”. You both look at one another in shock before you snort drunkenly and motion for him to continue. “I’m sorry, I was just jealous you were leaving me- us, for Anvil and when I found out you were going to be working for Billy Russo, I couldn’t think straight, all I could think about was you moving on and leaving me behind and that’s not how this is supposed to end Y/N, we’re not supposed to end.” He rushes out and you listen intently before snorting again.

“You know Steve, it’s so funny when you hear the one person you used to beg to hear you, verbalise the same insecurities you had when the two of you were together.” You say with a small giggle and you watch as Steve’s expressions morphs into confusion and then pain. The alcohol in your system has effectively rendered your filter useless so you start again. “You can be as jealous as you want Steve, but  what we’re not going to do is tell me how I should move on with my life, you’re the one that fucked all of this up, not me.” You tell him and he nods emphatically before sighing again.

“I know honey, I know. I fucked up real bad but I’m here asking if there’s even a single shred of hope that we can fix this, I’m going to do it. I will spend the rest of my life fixing this, I will run myself into the ground trying to mend every wound and insecurity I have ever caused you, I need to know if you see a future with us, because if you do, honey I’ll never hurt you like that ever again” he says as his eyes plead with you believe him.

“Those all sounds like empty promises right now Steve, do you know how many times you’ve promised to me that you’d prioritise me when we were together? How many times you told me you’d stop running after Sharon? How’d you Put. Me. First.” You emphasise and watch as guilt overcomes his features. He’s about to start talking again before the sound of the heavy metal door opening to the roof scrapes against the floor to open.

It's almost comical how your heart drops and then flutters at the sight of Billy Russo. You see Steve’s body stiffen at the sight of the playboy worthy smile on Billy’s lips. You smile back at him and as you move to walk over to him, Steve stops you. “Hey, I thought we were still busy talking?” he asks with jealousy and anxiety in his tone. He can’t watch you walk away with Billy; you need to stay here. You’re safe here with him, who knows what Billy will do with you. You can’t leave him again; he has to make you stay.

Before you can even make out an answer, Billy’s close enough to speak. “Hey! Tony let me know he was throwing you a party and you know I had to come a celebrate my  new assistant. He let me know he saw you coming up here, I can leave if you want some privacy” he says with a smile as he nods at Steve before focusing his attention on you. You smile at him with one of the biggest and brightest smiles he’s seen you wear since before your breakup. He wants to roll his eyes at Bily’s obvious  flirting, but his jealousy takes a backseat at the anxiety he feels because his charm seems to be working on you.

“Yeah, actually we’re a bit busy!” he calls out to the both of you but all you do is turn to glare at him as you turn to Billy and shake your head before placing your hand on his suit jacket. Steve clenches his jaw at the sight whilst glaring at your hand like it’s committing a criminal offense. You turn to Steve, and he quickly fixes a small smile on his face. “I think I’m going to head back to the party with Billy. I’ll see you around Steve.” You say and although Steve feels his heart drop in his chest, he nods with a small smile as he watches the two of you walk away, already conversing animatedly.

“Hey!” he calls out at the last minute and winces as you turn around with a look of annoyance, “What, Rogers?” you ask and winces at the use of his last name, thin ice. “You never gave me an answer! Do you still have hope?” he calls out with a hopeful look and watches as your jaw twitches but the slight movement from your lips indicate your amusement. “You’ve got work to do, Rogers” is all you call out as Billy holds the door open for you to let you go back. Like the prick he is, Billy just smiles and nods at Steve as he leaves.

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

I'm mad.

Home worked all night on his apology pancakes.

He was ready. He wanted to tell Peach, to apologise and ask for forgiveness. And he wanted to do it himself. Because he knew this was something he had to face himself, just like Peach had to face his ghost himself.

He says so explicitly.

And yet, Kid (and Kan) took that away from him. They took his chance to confess, apologise and ask for forgiveness. They took his chance to save what is most important to him. His family with Peach and Pangpang.

Kan told Home to confess the sooner the better from the beginning. Aside from Home himself, she's the only one who has the full picture so she warned him.

And then over the course of the episode she kept puttng pressure on Home.

And it worked! Home was steeling himself and preparing to confess. Hell, he even almost did it right there in the kitchen after overhearing Chai-Un making his own confession.

But he was interrupted. And after he saw Peach asking for forgiveness from the person he almost killed through his food, Home wanted to do the same. Because he knows how much food means to Peach and that Peach would know it to be a meaningful gesture from Home because he knows that Home has never cooked before. That he must have worked hard to make this for him. So he asked for a little more time. So he could prepare his apology properly.

(Now, of course, one could maybe argue that Home needs to find his own way to apologise instead of just copying Peach. And I can accept that argument though I stand by my opinion that it would have been meaningful for them in this manner. That Home saw Peach getting forgiven by Chai-Un and thought he could have the same, easy conclusion. This one I don't accept because Home did almost confess before Peach got forgiven.)

Kan heard this onversation. She knew Home asked for just a little more time.

And I guess she didn't believe him? Or she thought someone from the Vimarnsukman family would stop him. We don't yet know the full extent of her backstory but it probably involves Home's family harming someone she cared about. So I'm willing to give her that she probably has a reason to not believe the confession would happen. But she could have talked to Home about it again. One day. Not even, maybe half a day. That's all Home needed.

But instead she chose to take the oportunity from him. For revenge or whatever her goal is.

And she didn't even do her due dilligence.

Not that what really happened is so much better than drunk driving but this is just one more thing painting Home as an irresponsible rich brat when he didn't drink. In fact we learn that he just doesn't drink and drive in general to the point that his associates are annoyed by it.

Not that he deserves a medal for it but we learn that Home was a lot less immature three years ago than we were lead to believe, maybe even less than at the beginning of the series when he was hiding his demons behind a facade of rich-bratness. When he finds out that Baby#13 lied to him about her boyfriend he leaves. He doesn't cause a scene, he doesn't start shit with the boyfriend he just leaves. He removes himself from the situation (but the situation keeps calling until he forgets to pay attention to the road and thus begin our troubles.) All to say that Home was actually not as bad as Kan clearly thinks.

And Kid. After the last episode I thought that maybe he wasn't that bad after all. Just trying to protect his nephew with any method he had at his disposal. It wouldn't have made what he had done ok, but at least understandable. Many people would do whatever they can to protect their loved ones from any harm, and if you grew up with wealth, surrounded by people who can fix any mistake by throwing money at it, a "solution" like this isn't surprising. But from what we saw this episode it seems I was wrong. It seems what he truly cares about is not Home, certainly not Home's happiness but rather the family name and the money.

Three years ago we saw that Home wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to help Peach.

But he was scared and didn't know what to do so he made a mistake. He called his uncle whom he trusted. And his uncle told him not to help, told him to run, to let him "solve" the problem for him.

And now, three years later, Kid tries to "help" Home again, but Home tells him "No. Let me do this myself." And Kid proceeds to do no such thing. He just "fixes" everything for Home as before. Without even talking to Home first. Because he doesn't even consider that Home has something more important to him than money and reputation.

So he also takes away Home's choice and sends attorny Yai after Home's family. To intimidate the people Home loves into not suing them. Because that's what he thinks of them. Just two poor leeches who will take any opportunity to take their money. Nothing more.

But he's wrong. Peach and Pangpang weren't sticking around for the money. They didn't even take any of it in the end. They were sticking around for Home. And by making them think that Home thinks so little of them that he would send his lawyer to threaten them instead of facing them himself, he puts the final nail in the coffin of Home's family.

And attorny Yai was there for that. He saw that and it still didn't even occur to him that they might have done wrong by Home (let alone Peach but he wouldn't care about that anyway).

No, he has the gall to tell Home that there's NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. That loosing his family, having the people he loves think that he never cared about them, is THE BEST FUCKING SOLUTION.

This. This is his best solution. Home's hard work and best efforts to become a better person, to grow into someone whose family could maybe forgive his past wrong-doings, to be the version of himself that owns up to his mistakes and asks for forgiveness, on the floor, broken and trampled on.

No one outside of it takes their family seriously. Not Kan who was supposed to be one of them. Not Kid who thinks he's the only family Home needs. Not Yai, not Suradech who witnessed them get closer and still ended up following orders.

Not the smug-faced bastard Best who had to poke his nose where it didn't belong.

And btw, can we talk about how it was not only Home's agency that all of them took away. It was also Peach's. Did anyone ask him if he wanted his face and story plastered all over the internet? Did anyone stop to cosider how he might feel to have the truth revealed to him like this? To have the worst possible version of Home shoved in his face by everyone aside from Home himself? No, of course not.

The only one who tried to stop this, the only one who could see how much Home and Peach care about each other and thus knew that this could't be it, was Pangpang.

Because she's the only other real member of their little family. The only one willing and capable of feeling the home they had built for themselves.

And it really hurt to see the fall out. To see Home break, desperately trying to make the people around him see what they took from him, trying to understand how they could hurt him so bad in the name of helping him.

(damn Newwie that was some excellent scream-crying)

To see Peach turn on the shower in their old apartment so his sister wouldn't have to hear him cry.

(ouch)

To end the episode on that shot of Peach looking so small as he's crying in the corner of their old bathroom.

To give one final punch in the face with Home looking even smaller in the end credits. Sitting alone and eating fast-food like before he had them. At the table where Pangpang first called them a family. With all the reminders he has left of their time together on the table before him.

[journalofimprobablethings]

Oh hey I started re-listening to Balance and I had forgotten that when they find the red robe in Wave Echo Cave that Justin asks about the robe's stats and whether he could take it and god can you just imagine if Taako had shown up at the Bureau wearing Lup's robe??

And then I wrote a thing about it.

--

Lucretia thought she was prepared for seeing her brothers again.

She's had time to build up her walls, to steel herself for what she knows will be a painful encounter. She's had a decade now of secrets and privately held regrets and memories, and she's become adept at hiding her emotions, learned how to school all the dismay and sorrow from her expression.

Even so, it takes everything in her to keep her expression neutral when the three of them walk into the room.

Magnus and Merle look in many ways like she expected--though older, ten years older; and she realizes she's never seen them age before. They've been in stasis for a hundred years, always come back each cycle looking exactly the same; but now Merle's wrinkles have deepened, and Magnus has new lines at the corners of his eyes and grey threaded through his hair, even though his body is barely thirty.

The joy and and intense sorrow she feels at the sight of them, with all the changes the past ten years have wrought, is so strong she doesn't think she can hold it inside her.

But what nearly undoes her is when Taako walks in. He looks exactly the same; elves don't age the same way humans do, or even dwarves--but for a moment she thinks--

She knows it's impossible, but for a moment, every signal is telling her brain that the elf in front of her wearing a red robe and carrying a familiar umbrella isn't Taako--it's Lup.

Then she blinks, and her brain recalibrates, and she realizes her mistake.

It's not that she has trouble telling the two apart--after a century living together, the twins lost the ability to fool the others unless they were trying very hard.

But she thinks she could be forgiven for the lapse, because the robe Taako is wearing isn't just any red robe--not some ironic twist, the universe mocking her with echoes.

It's an IPRE robe. Lup's IPRE robe.

And he's holding Lup's umbrastaff, casually slung over his shoulder like it belongs there.

Lucretia has spent any moment she could spare from her search for the Relics trying to find any trace of where Lup might have gone, and has come up empty.

Taako doesn't know what he's lost, hasn't even known to look--but somehow he's succeeded where Lucretia has failed. Clearly, at some point in their recent adventure--

He found Lup.

Or at least, he found Lup's things. What does it mean, that the robe and staff were left somewhere Taako could just pick them up? If Lup left the staff behind, does that mean--

With effort, Lucretia stops her train of thought, forcing herself to take a deep, even breath and push the roil of emotions down deep inside her. Later, she'll be able to sit and think through what this could mean.

For now, she has a part to play.

She straightens her shoulders and smiles, only leaning a little bit extra on her staff as she stands to greet them.

"Welcome, you three. Magnus, Merle, Taako. Killian has told me a lot about you and your...exploits."

She glances over at Killian, who is watching her with a sharp expression. She can't have failed to notice Lucretia's reaction to the robe when Taako walked in. Lucretia wonders what she knows about how Taako got it.

"I wanted to personally thank you for your help in retrieving the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet," she continues. "Thanks to you, an enormous danger has been removed from the world."

Magnus coughs awkwardly. Lucretia knows he's thinking about Phandolin, all those people he failed to save. "Yeah, we uh. We were happy to help."

"Does this thanks come in the form of gold?" Taako asks. "I think retreiving a super magic weapon is worth a reward, right?"

"Or a job? We were told there might be job openings here," Merle adds.

Lucretia laughs a little.

"We'll get to that in a minute," she says. She glances at Killian. "First, I--Taako, I would like to know where you got that robe? It's very--"

"Red," Killian finishes.

Taako looks down at himself. "Oh this thing? Yeah, I picked it up off some skeleton in a cave."

A yawning, empty pit opens up inside Lucretia.

"I figured, he was super dead, so finders keepers." He swoops the ends of the robe a little. "Stylish, right?"

The pit inside Lucretia yawns a little wider.

It's not that she hasn't considered the possibility--probability even--that Lup is dead. And just because her body is dead doesn't mean that she is gone.

But it's the confirmation--and Taako's cavalier description of his sister's bones--that nearly undoes Lucretia for the second time that day.

She grips her staff tight, and forces herself to keep her breathing even. She places one hand behind her back, so that the others can't see the tight fist she's balled it into.

"This was the cave where you first found the gauntlet?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

Lucretia exchanges glances with Killian.

"You all have visited Johann, correct? You've taken the voidfish's ichor?"

"You mean the fish poop?" Taako asks. "Yeah, we drank it. Not my favorite thing ever, I've gotta say."

"Yeah, it was super gross," Magnus puts in.

"Salty," Merle adds. "But I dunno, it had a kinda--"

"Oh my gods, do not--" Taako says.

"I'm just saying, it wasn't the worst thing I've ever tasted."

"Please stop."

Taako pinches the bridge of his nose, and Magnus busts out laughing. Lucretia has to steel herself against another wave of emotion as she watches the three of them banter. The familiarity aches.

She raises her voice a little to be heard over Magnus's laughter. "In that case, you've remembered the Relic Wars."

Magnus sobers instantly.

"The wars were caused by the Grand Relics: a series of extraordinarily powerful magical objects created by a group of magicians that we...refer to...as the Red Robes."

All three of the boys look down at Taako's robe.

"Oh," Merle says.

"Shit," Magnus says.

"Well," Taako says.

"It is very probable that the...the remains you found belonged to a member of that group."

"But that's good though, right?" Magnus says after a moment. "If one of them is dead--that's a good thing? Isn't it? They can't cause any more harm if they're dead."

Lucretia digs a fingernail deep into the palm of the hand behind her back.

"I'm afraid the harm the Grand Relics are capable of will long outlive the Red Robes themselves," she says. "But that's why we're here. We are doing our best to right the wrongs the Red Robes did. To remove the dangers they put into the world with the Relics. And we'd like your help."

"Sounds like a good cause," Merle says. "Does it pay?"

"It does pay," Lucretia says. "Competitively, if I say so myself."

"I'm in," Magnus says.

"Can I ask a quick question?" Taako says.

"Of course," Lucretia says. "I understand if you want more information before--"

"No, no, I'm--as long as the pay is good, I'm all on board," Taako says. "But I wanted to ask--"

He gives the robe a dramatic swish.

"Would it be in bad taste for me to keep the robe? It's just so comfy, you know? Great armor stats."

Taako gives her a shit-eating grin, and Lucretia's head swims for a moment at the image, one part of her brain telling her Lup, it's Lup, while the rest replies no it's not, it's not, she's gone, maybe forever.

She forces a small, rueful smile.

"Well, I can't deny that seeing a red robe around the Bureau regularly might cause some talk, some... discomfort. But we're not in the business of dress codes here. I'll leave it up to you."

"Great!" Taako drawls. "Can't wait to be the fashion talk of the moon!"

And Lucretia can't help but smile genuinely at that--he's still Taako, even after everything.

"Very well." She sets her staff carefully against her chair, consciously relaxes her shoulders. In her imagination, Magnus's hand rests firmly on her shoulder, Merle's a reassuring presence at her hip. The memory of Lup's voice whispers in her mind. You got this, Luce.

"If that's decided, let's get you three up to speed."

She gestures widely to the reception room, putting a little bit of the theatrical flair she learned from Taako into the gesture.

"Welcome to the Bureau of Balance."

[nex-kyit]

I've been having a lot of thoughts about Varic's and Omega's relationship in the life vs. Solstice.

An overview on what we know for sure:

Varic knows about Omega's assasination on that Galactic Union president, something that presumably very few or no one else knows about, considering how Omega was uncertain how Varic knew.

Varic knows more about Omega than the Vallenar Corporation's file on him.

The Vallenar Corporation hired Omega in every one of Varic's lifes, but he never knew Omega as well as Raion or Sola, or worked too closely with him in any of his lives*

Varic has never been targeted by him until his current one

Varic knows that Omega is, atleast partially, forcing on a chaotic persona, and that there is a person behind it.

Varic doesn't know much about Omega**

Varic has seen Omega fight to protect the helpless.

Though Varic distrusts Omega's character, he does trust his abilities and "his commitment to certain rules only he understood." Varic doesn't think Omega is an indiscriminate murderer.

The current Varic isn't scared of him.

Things we can put together:

*This could mean that the relationship between Varic and Omega could be anywhere from having only worked with or seen eachother very briefly (likely in most of his lives) to being coworkers. IIRC this line is in comparison to how he worked with Raion and Sola, both of whom Varic was practically living with and was very close too. So theoretically, his working relationship with Omega could be up to a few steps below Raion and Sola (but probably not lol).

**I want to point out that despite this, Varic seems to be the most knowledgeable on Omega, from his abilities to his past. The things Varic doesn't know about Omega, ex. the rules he follows and the person behind the mask, seem to be things the Omega would never let anyone know. Then again, its possible that theres characters we don't yet that do know these things.

Personally, I do think Varic worked, at least occasionally, with Omega, at least enough to get a good sense of his abilities.

Anyway the main point of this post is to theorize why Omega is a bit of an outlier compared to how close Varic's relationships were with the other crew members.

Theory A: The thing connecting Varic with the rest of the crew is how they trusted each other. Which means:

Varic *did* trust Omega in the Solstice life and is either in denial over it or his current perception has been tainted by Omega's actions in other lives. (There is some evidence for this if you squint and realize that either Varic was really impressed by Omega's abilities or that he on some level does think Omega was/could be a good person. Omega nearly killed Mariala and Varic has seemingly forgiven him. Seriously compare how Varic treats Omega vs someone Varic actually dislikes like Starhammer or Steel Avalanche or even Benri. Then again, Varic has explicitly mentioned that he does't trust really trust Omega's character, so this bit of theory is very unlikey)

It actually goes the opposite way, and the reason why crew was chosen was because of *their* trust in Varic rather than Varic's trust in them. In this case, Omega actually trusted MoS!Varic, and Varic never realized/reciprocated.

Theory B:

It has less to do with the relationship Varic has with the crew member, but rather how they inspired Varic. Mell hired Varic to fight the Advocates, Sola inspired him to join the fight against the Iron Legion, and Varic was apart of Shyrax's royal guard so he was kinda obligated to fight the Perfected. In this case, Omega had a key role in inspiring Varic to fight against Solstice. The only problem with this is in the Titan Knights life, where Raion wasn't really the reason why Varic was fighting D'niss and Varic didn't give up his life for the cause either. Which leads into my final theory:

Theory C:

Every crew member is an outlier in some way, this is just how Omega is unique. Raion for the aforementioned reasons and because he died before Varic did, Mell's request wasn't a galactic threat, Sola not having a request yet, and Shyrax for reasons we might not know yet. In this case, Omega isn't an outlier and all the characters were written like this intentionally. A win for Occam's razor! Ahah this one is probably the most likely.