#there are three of you I can’t get a read on

[avese23]

I read this three times and still can barely see how you missed the point so terribly and normally I would correct you kindly but this is not an academic space and this is about the honor of lesbians so claws open, friend.

OP didn’t mention sex. OP mentioned women. I didn’t mention sex. I mentioned lesbians.

Only you brought up sex. You saw the word lesbian and your mind jumped to sex. Put your angry typing thumbs down and examine that.

Now either you’ve blocked me, tuned me out, or maybe you’re still reading. Comprehension, that’s sexy of you. We can work with that.

OP from reasonable assumption, was discussing the phenomenon of people who primarily drift toward male characters but have internalized misandry beating them out of shape cuz how could anything masculine be positive? We need to feminize him. Here warps the misandry into misogyny as you see tumblr users turning “post your favorite female character” posts into “well, he’s a woman to me.” Hence frustration, especially because often times character traits seen as charitable and tropable in male characters are received with annoyance or hatred when seen in female characters. If you’re still paying attention, what’s your favorite color? Hence OPs point.

I, picking up on this context, could see where OP is coming from. The internet do be misogynistic. The internet also struggles with shame around liking men. A lot of spaces are one skip away from transmisogynist rhetoric, it’s concerning. Anywho, as someone who rarely sees this problem off the internet I offered a positive to the vent.

A little tongue in cheek but also great fucking advice. Because if you’re sick of people putting male characters on a pedestal there’s nothing like a lesbian to reinstate your faith in feminist approaches to media. Not because they have “temporary desires” (also what are you smoking?? cuz I get that I’m demi but you’re the first person aside from cis men named Brad I’ve heard call any feeling toward a woman a temporary desire.) but because however sick the average person might be of the gender gap in media, lesbians are more sick of it. Google “heteronormativity,” talk to anyone about the exhaustion of having men thrown at you when you’ve dedicated yourself to a lifestyle based on who you are as a person that specifically centers women. As people. Cuz lesbians are people. Repeat that for me if you’re listening.

Regarding the quotation you’ve put…(which, no clue where you got that from? Like genuinely did you reblog from the wrong post by mistake? If so feel free to delete this and block me cuz this would be very funny content if the dignity of my fellow dykes. Like I was upsetty for a second but this is the second most amusing tumblr mix up I’ve gotten so no hard feelings) you seem to be under the assumption that I don’t like lesbians?? Or that people who lesbians aren’t attracted to cant like lesbians?? Which is weird cuz lesbians are objectively cool af. And my ace gf is a lesbian who I’m very attracted to so…again I don’t know where you’re drawing your sparks from.

Tbh I don’t blame you if you haven’t gotten this far. My brain is on tired mode and your response was so off target that this is less even about responding to you and more my adhd hyperfixating on close reading your text in some futile attempt to see what straws you were grasping. I haven’t had time to get to my sociology tbr and I don’t have an essay due till next week so this was genuinely engaging for my brain. I can’t solve the puzzle of what mistake you made but maybe you have so rejoice to that. OP sorry this is on your post I do not know where they came from but I think I’ve shooed them off lol.

Anywho. Why are you still reading. Despite my greatest efforts I am not a lesbian. I’m an equally sexy dyke but not the same kind. Now go befriend a lesbian! This person is stalling for some reason but you don’t have to. Go talk about how Kylo Ren would have been more engaging if he was written as a woman. Go talk about how Faith Lehane deserved better. Go talk about how Harrowhark is trying her very best and needs a hug but please ask before touching.

And remember the three tenants:

1. Be respectful to lesbians. Implying they’re only about women for the sex is a harmful homophobic stereotype. Also if it were true my besties would be dating but we have a bookclub group chat where they perform literary analysis over fictional instead of flirting. Maybe this poster shouldn’t talk to them if you’re gonna be offensive. They’re busy reading.

2. If you want a meaningful relationship with anyone using terms like “temporary desires” is not a way to do it. “Oh but I don’t do that romance or sex stuff” ok but you can try doing the empathy and common sense stuff. Other people won’t find your dismissal of their sexuality “a flex.” It will make finding friends hard

3. If you’re having trouble explaining a point…maybe the point isn’t ready to be out yet. Don’t embarrass yourself by butting into a conversation that’s nothing to do with the frustration in your head. If you don’t like explaining things, or drawing off of actual sources, go to twitter. This might not be the site for you. There are a lot of lesbians here (ooo espooky) and women who know how to read (eee scary) and like to befriend each other (le gasppp) it can be a lot 😔 <- this is irony btw

"he's like a woman to me!!!" not true because if he was a woman to you you wouldn't give a fuck about him

[angievue]

flower girl ʚɞ billie eilish

in which you work at a flower shop and billie works at a tattoo parlour right next door

contains smut, degrading, dumbification, fingering & oral, ig readers innocent, unsupportive parents, this is really bad LOL

a/n guys i found this i think i made this three months ago for fun and OMG😭 also i’m on my phone so that’s why the layout is so ugly😔 i’m not even gonna proof read this cuz its so bad but i love the tattoo girl x flower girl trope so���� might re write this or make a pt 2 idk!!

You’ve always been a bit of a goody two shoes. The obedient type, always following your parents’ strict rules and agreeing to whatever your friends begged for, even though you never truly felt free. Your life felt like it was on lockdown, confined by your parents’ watchful eyes.

That was until you started working at a cozy little flower shop. The space was filled with hyacinths, lilies, and roses, and you felt instantly at home there. You could arrange bouquets however you liked and finally had a chance to connect with the world outside.

But what you liked most was the dark-haired girl who worked at the tattoo shop right next to your little flower shop. Growing up, you were taught that attraction to the same gender was forbidden, so now, alone with your thoughts, you can’t help but be drawn to her.

You’ve never spoken to her, and God knows when you will. You’ve only ever seen her walking into the shop every weekday at 8 a.m. and leaving at 5 p.m.

You’ve always wondered what she was like. Her long, raven hair and baggy clothes. You wondered what her name was or what color her eyes were. You wondered if she’d ever think about you the way you think about her.

But she had one flaw: her tattoo parlor somehow scared customers away. The loud music and her starkly different aesthetic made your beautiful flower shop feel dim and boring by comparison. You found yourself loathing her for it.

Today, you swore to confront her and send her a sweet message.

So here you are, standing outside her little tattoo parlor. The edgy music blasts from inside, and you can feel your knees getting weak.

You open the door and immediately feel out of place. Dressed in your cute pink skirt, white sweater, leg warmers, and Mary Janes, you stand out against the harsh red lights and black, dimmed walls of the tattoo parlor. You can’t believe you’re here—imagine if your parents saw you in a place like this…

You gulp as your eyes meet hers. She’s the one you’ve been secretly watching for months now. Her icy blue eyes and rosy pink lips make your stomach twist, and you bite your lip, nervously approaching her with your hands tucked behind your back.

“You here for a tattoo?” she asks, her voice carrying an edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Um… no! Actually, I’m from the flower shop… right next door,” you manage, voice shaky. “Your music is kinda loud… and, well, I’ve been getting some complaints from my customers, so… if you could maybe turn it down a little?”

You stare down at your shoes, feeling like a complete idiot as you mumble through your words, unable to meet her piercing gaze.

She lets out a low chuckle, biting her lip. “Flower shop, eh?”

You glance up, nodding with wide, blinking eyes. Her gaze holds yours, and you feel heat rise through your body.

Her eyes roam over you, lingering just a little too long. She shifts, leaning in closer. “Hm. I’ll think about it… if you give me something.”

Your face lights up. “Okay! Like… a flower?”

She laughs softly, amused by your innocence. “Mm. Yeah… like a flower.”

And that’s how you found yourself, dazed and flustered, barely able to think straight, hiding out in the tiny, employees-only bathroom tucked away in the back of the flower shop.

Billie was her name. And she didn’t really want a flower…

Your breath hitches as you feel Billie's fingers trace the curve of your spine, her touch both gentle and teasing. You shiver, unable to suppress a soft whine as her fingertips trail lower, dipping into the crease of your ass. Her voice is a low murmur in your ear, honeyed and dripping with promise.

"You’re so fucking eager, aren’t you? Like a dumb little puppy."

The words should sting, but they only make your heart race faster. You nod, too consumed by your own arousal to form a response. Billie chuckles, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

Her hands slide around your waist, pulling you back against her chest. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your clothes, and it makes your skin tingle. Billie nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Such a sweet baby," she purrs, her lips brushing against your skin. "I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

You whimper, a desperate plea escaping your lips. Billie’s grip tightens, drawing you even closer. Her mouth finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, and she bites down gently, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp.

"Please…" you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Billie hums in satisfaction, her hand sliding down to cup your heat through the fabric of your panties. You feel yourself growing wetter at her touch, your body betraying you with every passing second. She teases you, circling your clit with her thumb, making you squirm in her hold.

"So naughty," she mocks, her tone playful yet domineering. "Such a whore letting a random girl touch you like this. I bet you’d do anything I say, wouldn’t you?”

You nod frantically, your mind foggy with arousal. Billie’s fingers dip beneath the edge of your panties, slipping inside to find your slick entrance. You moan loudly, arching your back to give her better access. She thrusts two fingers into you without warning, making you cry out.

"That’s it, baby," she coos. "Take it. Take my fingers like the good girl you are."

Her words are laced with condescension, but you find them intoxicating. You press yourself harder onto her hand, desperate for more. Billie pulls her fingers out with a wet sound, bringing them to her mouth to lick them clean. You watch, entranced, as she savors your taste.

"Mmm, delicious," she murmurs. "But you know what you really need, don’t you?"

You shake your head, unsure, but your body tenses with anticipation. Billie smirks, clearly enjoying the power she holds over you.

"On your knees," she commands, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You comply immediately, dropping to your knees before her. Billie steps back, giving you room to maneuver. She undoes her pants with deliberate slowness, letting them fall to the floor in a pool around her ankles. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of her exposed pussy, glistening with desire.

"Come on," she orders, her voice firm. "Show me how much of a dumb little slut you really are.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, your tongue flicking out to taste her. Billie hisses at the contact, gripping your hair tightly as you begin to lick and suck at her clit. Your movements are hesitant at first, but she guides you with forceful tugs on your hair, showing you exactly what she wants.

"Fuck, that’s it," she groans. "Lick it like you mean it, my little baby.

The harshness of her words spurs you on, your tongue working faster as you try to bring her to the edge. Billie’s hips buck against your face, her moans growing louder and more urgent. You can feel the tension building in her body, and you redouble your efforts, determined to make her come.

"Oh, fuck," she gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair.

She pulls away from your mouth abruptly, making you whine in protest. But before you can react, she spins you around, pushing your face against insf the wall. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you realize what’s coming next.

"Stay still," she warns, her voice clipped.

"I’m going to ruin you, and you’re going to take it like the good little slut you are."

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation. Billie wastes no time, her fingers returning to your soaked pussy. She pushes one inside, then two, scissoring them to stretch you open. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your hips rocking back instinctively.

"Such a greedy little thing," she taunts.

With that, she removes her fingers and replaces them with something much larger—her tongue. You cry out at the sudden invasion, your body shuddering as she laps at your folds, drinking in your juices. Her mouth is demanding, relentless, and you can feel yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.

"Billie… please…" you beg, your voice breaking. "I can’t… I can’t hold on…"

"Good," she whispers against your flesh. "Let go, my dumb little baby. Let go for me."

And with those words, you do. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, overwhelming your senses. You scream her name, your entire body convulsing with pleasure as Billie continues to eat you out, driving you further into bliss.

As your climax begins to fade, she pulls away, leaving you panting and spent. But before you can catch your breath, she flips you over, pinning you down with her body. Her eyes burn with intensity as she looks down at you.

"Liked that, did you?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous. "How about we make this a regular thing?"

You blink up at her, dazed and sated. Part of you wants to protest, to say that this is so unprofessional and wrong. But the other part of you, the part that’s currently throbbing with residual pleasure, doesn’t want this to ever end.

"Yes…" you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Whatever you want…"

Billie smiles, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Good girl."

a/n someone do this trope justice or if someones already done smth like this LMK PLZ😫 i love it

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘: 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

main masterlist | series masterlist | tag

⬩ pairing(s) gomez inspired!simon "ghost" riley x morticia inspired!fem!reader (feat. tf 141)

⬩ warning(s) language, spiders (mentioned), devoted husband!simon (seriously, he's absolutely obsessed with you!), dad!simon, mom!reader, mary shelley honorable mention, sexual tension, very light smut

⬩ author's note can not get enough of this family. this one cuts off right before mom and dad get to it but don't worry because there is definitely some gross stuff to look forward to! (lovely divider is by @wethairjoel)

⬩ word count 0.8k

Bedtime stories are a major event in the Riley household, and it’s all because of you.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is what the children begged you to pick for this month’s readings. Unsurprising to you, Simon had Mr. Alfie find and purchase the prettiest 1831 edition of the story he could find. And find it the butler did, earning delighted cheers from the children and a raise in his already gracious salary at your direction.

Now, here you sit with your back against Raven’s bedframe, the girl is tucked into your side while Reaper rests his head on your thigh and plays with a loose thread on your floor-length nightgown. Simon opts to lean with crossed arms at Raven’s doorframe, heart squeezing at the sight of the three of you.

The children listen with full attention and Simon doesn’t have to wonder why–you’re magnetic. Eyes bright as you read the prose with all of the elegance and charm in the world. You do the voices and make faces, pulling a few smiles from Reaper and giggles from Raven. Simon himself can’t help but grin a little, mind floating back to when you’d first started the story.

It was a few Sunday dinners ago, and your audience was slightly larger than it is now after the children had convinced Johnny, Kyle, and Price to stay a little longer that evening.

You read to everyone in the sitting room of your large residence, settled in an Oxford Red Chesterfield chair. Raven and Reaper coaxed Johnny and Kyle to sit on the floor with them while Simon and John opted for the nearest sofa and a few fingers of whisky. Even Mr. Alfie had to stop and tune in for a spell.

“She’s something…” Price whispered to Simon that night just under his breath, and it was more than just the alcohol and full belly talking. Your husband could only huff with a nod, already aware with how effortlessly you allure his closest friends.

Simon can’t help but think the same, watching you here tonight.

The children whine and beg for just a few more pages, Mama when you finish this evening’s reading. Just as they do every night. 

“Tomorrow, my loves,” you promise them, and they know not to argue any further. “Now go kick Papa goodnight.”

Reaper is the first off the mattress, Simon barely catching the nine-year-old before he tackles his father at the legs. The boy pairs his hug with a soft kick to Simon’s foot.

“Goodnight, Papa.”

Simon bends, smooching a kiss into Reaper’s forehead.

“Night, my boy,” Simon replies sweetly. “Lemme say goodnight to your sister, then I’ll be over to tuck you, alright?”

Reaper gives a fast nod, hurrying from Raven’s room and a few doors down to the other bedroom of the hall. Simon watches him scamper, turning to Raven who’s flying into his arms faster than he can blink. Letting out a surprised oof as her knee hits his stomach.

“Nighnight, Papa,” she states, voice forcing a smile into your lips. Her little arms circle around his neck and she squeezes with all her might. “I love you more than spiders, mud, and all my toys.”

You and Simon share a chuckle at your daughter’s words. Rocking her, Simon embraces her back with an exploding chest.

“I love you more than spiders, mud, and all your toys.” He releases her after one last squeeze and doesn’t let the child go until her dangling feet touch the ground once more. “Now go kiss Mama.”

Raven turns but stops. Looking back at her father, a mischievous grin brightens her face. Both you and Simon already know what’s coming. You have to cover the laugh that leaves your mouth as Raven’s little foot smacks against her father a bit harder than Reaper’s did.

Simon jerks, rubbing at the spot with a fake wince while Raven runs back towards the bed with a bubbling giggle. Jumping atop the mattress, she crawls into your open arms. Simon lingers on the two of you before retreating to go take care of Reaper.

“Do you love me more than spiders and mud and toys? Hm?”

Raven nods right away at your question, kissing your nose before rolling to snuggle over her comforter. You scoot to the edge of the bed, working diligently to make sure she’s tucked and content.

Leaving her with one final peck on the cheek, you wish Raven sweet nightmares and flick her light.

Simon finds you laying across your shared bed, arms thrown back and eyes closed. He can tell you aren’t sleeping, as you aren’t able to unless he’s alongside you.

His steps are heavy as he trails into the room, breathing deeply and finally stopping the the foot of the bed.

“I’d die for you…” Simon declares in the silence. “Kill for you, too.”

The statement flicks open your eyes, which you settle upon your husband. He studies you with a heat that has your insides fuzzing into something sweet. Slipping to the edge of the bed, you balance on your knees in front of him and sigh blissfully. Hands on your cheeks, Simon tugs you into a deep snog. Tongue swirling, he guides your head with a tender touch, eyes rolling at the taste of you.

A broken groan leaves him when you pull away, his lip trapped inbetween the rows of your teeth. After smirking up at him, Simon drags your mouth back to his and leans you backward.  You fall onto the bed in a tangled pair, Simon inhaling the gasp that leaves you when your back hits the mattress.

“You’re everything,” Simon pants out, so overwhelmed by the way you look up at him with swollen lips and darkened eyes that he has to kiss you again.

“You’re the reason I breathe.”

Kiss.

“The reason I want to breathe.”

Kiss.

“And a day alone–without you, love… that would be my death...”

VOTE IN THE LATEST POLL (NOV 4-5)

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[daphwritesworld]

Can I request a Leah x Alessia x Reader please???

Something to do with captain Leah because there's no way that wouldn't bleed over into their private life

a/n: yeah I'm super into this request, but I'm breaking it up into two parts. I'm getting delirious I'm so tired so I'll finish part two tomorrow. ohh and Chapter 1 of Be My Baby (my Leah Williamson x Athletic Trainer!Reader series) should be coming out tomorrow as well!! so stayed tuned haha. enjoy this for now. feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you and happy reading!!

Leah x Teammate!Reader x Alessia part 1/2

content: Top!Leah, Bottom!Reader, Switch!Alessia, strap on use (R receiving), pussy eating (Alessia receiving), nipple play, overstimulation, slight impact play,

warnings: HEAVY dom/sub themes, calling reader a slut/whore like once or twice, vibrating strap, Captain used in a sexual manner, slight intoxication while fucking but they're all consenting

synopsis: Captain Leah likes to take her roll off the pitch and into the bedroom.

word count: 2.0k

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The energy is still high inside the flat as you all three stumble in, hands gripping each other in a buzzed thrill. Leah talked both you and Alessia into leaving the club early– sneaking out into a taxi before the others even had time to notice you all gone. You’d shared some shots at the bar with the team, celebrating a new win with Leah back from her injury. She’d been touchy all night, running her hands over all the places she knows drives you crazy. The alcohol only fueled your desires as the two blondes sandwiched you between them on the dance floor. Their mouths on either side of your neck as their hands explored over the tiny dress covering your body.

Now you're making out in the entryway of your shared home, clothes being tugged off as you moan into their mouths. It’s a mess of tongues and you’re starting to get dizzy from them passing your mouth back and forth. You never get a chance to get a breath in, if one is gone the other is stealing the air from your lungs in a bruising kiss. It’s a vicious cycle that leaves your legs starting to shake, relying on the girls pressed against you to hold you up.

“Mmm– let’s move this to the bedroom,” Leah gets out between clashes of your mouths, Alessia panting as she watches the two of you consumed in each other.

You can’t find the words to speak, nodding your head into the liplock as you feel them leading you up the stairs. You don’t separate until you reach the door, Leah pushing you both away as you whine at the loss of her added warmth. She smiles at you both, a hidden danger underneath the sweet looking gaze. “Less go lay on the bed, baby. Back to the headboard.”

Alessia flushes a little, but compiles nonetheless. A quiet "Yes Cap," leaving her lips. It's so low you don't even hear it— but Leah does. Something so small but so significant that lights a fire in her veins. Alessia climbs up to the head of the bed before turning herself around, placing a pillow against the cold wooden surface behind her. She places her hands in her lap as she looks back up to see you two, awaiting further instructions. Leah grabs your forearm, pulling you against her chest as her lips linger on your earlobe. Her breath sends chill bumps across your skin at the closeness. “Now go lay between her thighs as I get ready. Ass up face down, darling.”

You find yourself nodding again, still not able to find words as your mind races. But as you go to move onto the bed you feel a hand pull you back. It wraps around your throat from the back, gripping the sides as a quiet moan is ripped from your lips. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am!” You let out a cry as her other hand comes down to land a spank onto your sensitive clit. Slick from your pussy connecting with her fingertips as a string forms between them. “Come on, love. You know that’s not my name. Yes, who?”

A matching whine can be heard coming from both you and Alessia at her words. So that’s the kind of mood she’s in tonight? It’s not often Leah likes to completely dominate you both, but when she does? Lord pray for the neighbors…

“Yes, Captain!”

You’re met with a pleased hum at that, her hands freeing you as they push you towards the bed. You bring your bottom lip between your teeth as you start crawling towards Alessia, grabbing onto her thighs as you lower yourself into position. You can hear Leah opening the closet, grabbing the box, and oh. That sounds…different. You avert your eyes up to Alessia to gauge her reaction. And oh god her mouth is hanging open. “I-Is that?” she starts to let out as her cheeks get even redder, but the older of the two cuts her off. “Don’t spoil the surprise, Less! That’s half the fun.”

Then you’re feeling the bed dipping behind you, a hand landing a slap to your ass before it runs down your back. Next thing you know it’s pushing down, forcing your arch deeper as her voice cracks out above you, “You can do it better than that, Y/N. Don’t play stupid with me tonight. I won’t be very nice if you do, love.”

Your pussy aches from the way she’s treating you– from the words coming out of her mouth to the way she man handles your ass up higher, presenting your pussy to her just the way she likes. You swear you get wetter as you feel her fingers run up into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail as she yanks your face to Alessia’s pussy. “Now make her cum like the good little bitch I know you can be.”

Your mouth latches onto her cunt as you suck on her clit.You can feel Alessia’s hand come down and tangle with Leah’s into your hair, you look up and groan into her pussy at the sight. Alessia’s chest is rising up and down as her brows draw together in pleasure. Her mouth is dropped open as the prettiest sounds fall from her lips, enchanting you to keep your eyes locked on her.

You're so lost in the pleasure you're giving her you don't even notice Leah's hand moving from your hair or the way she's spreading your ass cheeks apart. You do notice the brand new strap entering you though. The burn of the stretch and the curved ridges running along it foreign to you. You moan into Alessia's cunt as Leah starts bottoming out in yours, a heavy hand coming down to land on your ass as she starts thrusting into you. "Fuck yourself back— there we go, darling. Just like that."

Your hips start pushing back into hers before she can even get the words fully out. Your pussy having a mind of it's own as you chase the new euphoric feeling she's giving you. You moan out every time you meet her thrusts, the tip of the strap slamming into your G-spot perfectly. You're so lost in the pleasure Leah's giving you that you forgot about your original task. Alessia's humping up into your face at this point, having come to terms with the fact you're too busy taking dick to do anything except moan into her pussy right now. Until you feel a familiar tight grip in your hair, knocking Alessia's hand away from head. She yanks you up until your back is flush against her front, breasts smushed to her back as she brings her lips against your ear.

"I thought I told you to make her cum? So fucking do it." She's shoving you back down now, her hand on the back of your head never leaving as she guides your face back to its rightful place. "Lessi baby, play with your tits for me. I'm sorry you've been neglected, my love," she picks up her pace again before she continues. "But you know how much of a whore she can be."

"Thank you, Captain!" it's moaned out of Alessia's mouth as she tweaks at her nipples, stomach starting to twist up as she gets closer to the edge. A chuckle falling from Leah's lips as she leans over your body, sending the strap impossibly deeper inside of you. Your face gets pushed flush against her groin as your nose buries into her clit. Leah uses one hand to steady herself on the bed while the other reaches for Alessia's neck pulling her into a heated kiss. You hear them making out above you, but you can't see it. Too busy fucking yourself onto Leah's dick as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your tongue's fucking into Less's hole now, drunk off the cream that leaks out of her. You start grinding your nose forward a bit, giving her clit some added stimulation as you bring one of your hands up to join the party. A finger slips in beside your tongue, curling it as you make a come hither motion. Alessia's hips start spasming against your face as you hear her muffled sounds of pleasure, her pussy squeezing around you to signal her end nearing.

"Can I cum, Cap?" it's said between kisses, Leah barely giving her a second to pull back to get the words out. She separates herself for a second as she slows her pace, kissing Less on the nose before she gives her an answer, "Yeah, go ahead, love. Make a mess on our baby's face so you can clean it up."

She doesn't waste a second, moans tumbling from her mouth and a tightening grip on your hair telling you all you need to know. You moan into her pussy, the added vibrations making a cracked whine break out of her. Her hips start bucking up into your face, riding the pleasure as she keeps you cemented into place. You suck up all the cum she gives you, not letting a drop escape as you lick her pussy clean. The hand holding you in place quickly turns to push you away and give her a much needed break, but you ignore it. Tongue still pumping into her overstimulated hole as your finger comes out to rub at her clit.

You quickly come to regret that decision when Leah's pulling out of you and yanking you down the bed with her. A squeal of surprise comes out of you at the action. She doesn't stop until her feet are touching the hardwood floor and your knees are dangle off the edge of the bed. She flips you over effortlessly, a show of her strength as she asserts her dominance.

"You know what my problem with you is? You can never listen too long, can you? Always gotta break the rules or push the boundaries for your own gain. It's fucking selfish," she throws your legs over her shoulders as she settles in closer between your legs. "So now you're gonna let me use this pussy however I want, for as long as I want."

She slips in at that, bottoming out instantly as she slams her hips into yours. She pauses as she brings a hand down to the base, a darkening laugh leaving her lips as she locks eyes with Alessia. "You wanna do the honors, baby?" Your brows furrow in confusion as your eyes try and see what she's covering. You start leaning up on your elbows to get a new angle before Leah's pushing you back down, a hand on the middle of your chest as she growls out at you. "Be patient!"

Alessia is at the edge of the bed now, leaning over your body as she reaches for the harness. They share a passionate kiss, Leah telling her to go get the hitachi wand after she's done helping. Alessia nods before stealing one more kiss, pressing in the button before disappearing to the closet. Your back arches immediately as you feel the strap inside you come to life with vibrations.

She's setting a rough pace from the start this time, skin slapping filling up the space of the room. There's no adjusting period this time around— oh no. Leah's fucking you with a purpose now, to remind you of your place…withering underneath her. Alessia never gets her this riled up. Always following orders and doing as she's told. But you? You always fight her, talk back, or straight up ignore what she does tell you.You like to tell yourself it's because you're independent…but you all three know it's really because you crave this. To see the pinch between her brow and hear the octaves in her voice get lower. You crave to have her pick you up and hold you down as she reminds you of who she is: your Captain.

[chestersturniolo]

“don’t gotta be so dramatic all the fuckin’ time”

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader x Chris Sturniolo

based on this request

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DISCLAIMER; chratt poly relationship dynamic!! if you aren’t comfortable w this, do not read

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It had started as a small tiff, but somehow, it escalated out of control in minutes. The three of you were in the kitchen, and Chris had made a comment-something offhanded about how you were “always overthinking everything”

“Overthinking?-” you snapped, setting down the mug you’d been holding “-you’re really calling me out for caring about stuff, Chris? Unbelievable”

Chris crossed his arms, his expression growing defensive. “That’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying sometimes you blow things way out of proportion. I can’t bring anything up without you acting like it’s some huge deal!”

Your pulse quickened, your anger growing quickly, “You know what, maybe I wouldn’t if you actually bothered to listen for once instead of making me feel like I’m overreacting every time I say something!”

Matt, who had been silent in the corner, finally chimed in, “I think Chris is just trying to say you’re taking it a bit far” he shrugged, his words only added fuel to the fire.

You turned to him, a mix of anger and hurt flooding your face. “Oh, of course you’re siding with him-“ you scoffed “-god forbid you actually back me up on something for once!”

Matt shook his head with a roll of his eyes, frustration in his voice now too. “Look, it’s not about sides, I just don’t think it’s worth blowing up over”

“Exactly-“ Chris agrees “-don’t gotta be so dramatic all the fuckin’ time” he snaps, his voice raising.

You get taken aback slightly at his tone. sure, you’ve all had disagreements before, but it rarely escalated to any form of yelling. There’s dead silence in the room as your emotions start to become overwhelming. The way they teamed up and dismissed your feelings only pushed you to the edge, so without a word, you turned and stormed out of the house, the door slamming shut behind you.

-

You spent the entire day wandering around town, trying to clear your mind. You walked down familiar streets, through the park, even sat by the lake for a while, letting the fresh air and the quiet calm you down. Your phone buzzed relentlessly in your pocket, but eventually, you turned it off.

Finally, as the sun began to set, you decided to head home. You felt drained, both emotionally and physically, but you knew it was time to face them.

When you opened the front door, you were immediately met with the sound of voices from upstairs. As you climbed the stairs quietly, you could hear them—Chris and Matt, arguing with each other.

“You shouldn’t have snapped at her like that!” Matt was practically shouting, his voice thick with anger.

“Don’t put all the blame on me-“ Chris shot back “-you didn’t exactly help calm her down, did you?”

There was a pause, then you heard Chris sigh deeply. “Let’s go back out and look again”

“We’ve been driving around for hours, Chris! What makes you think she’ll still be out there now?-” Matt snapped, his frustration clear. “-I’m calling her again”

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of guilt and exhaustion as you stepped around the corner. The living room came into view, and you saw Chris sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands,,while Matt was pacing back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Hi” you said quietly, breaking the tense silence

Both of their heads snapped toward you, a mix of anger and relief on their faces.

Chris stood up quickly. “Hi?” he repeats in disbelief, “Where the hell have you been?! We’ve been worried sick!” His voice strained with both worry and frustration.

“Out” you said simply, still feeling a bit defiant despite the guilt settling in your chest.

“Out?” he echoed, his jaw clenching as he turned to Matt. “Can you believe this shit? Just…‘out’ - like we haven’t been losing our minds looking for her all day”

Matt rolled his eyes but then turned his attention back to you, his tone softer than Chris’s. He crossed the room to stand infront of you. “I tried calling you, like, a thousand times” he said, his voice more tired than angry.

You looked down, feeling a pang of remorse. “I turned my phone off”

Matt let out a deep sigh, a flash of frustration crossing his face as he throws both hands up in the air “You can’t just—” He cut himself off abruptly, noticing the tears that were starting to well up in your eyes as you dropped your gaze to the floor

Immediately, his face softened, his irritation melting away. “Oh baby” he murmured, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close, shooting a look to his brother

“I’m sorry-“ you choked out, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. “I just…I was so mad, I needed to clear my head, and I just lost track of time,and I hate fighting with you guys and-and-i-“ you cut your own rambling off with small sobs

Matt held you tighter, stroking your hair gently. “Sh-sh-shhh it’s okay” he soothed, his voice a whisper

Chris, who had been watching, came over with a much softer expression, holding out his arms. “Come here, ma” he said, his voice now gentle.

You sniffled, letting go of Matt to move into Chris’s arms. He wrapped you in a tight embrace, laying a kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin there. “it’s okay, you’re here now that’s all that matters,hmm?-“ he murmured, rubbing your back in slow circles. “-I’m sorry for earlier, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, I was way outta’ line”

Matt steps closer, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “Me too baby, i’m sorry-” he says quietly, his voice full with regret “-but please don’t leave like that again okay? if you don’t wanna talk things out and need some space, we’ll leave…we need to know you’re safe sweetheart”

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a/n; thankyou for the request anon🫀!! lylyly

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST LINKED HERE

taglist;

@sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh

@phone4pills @sturniooolos

@monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 @brianna-grace12

@blahbel668

@stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i

@starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274

@chriseatingmeoutin4k @slvttie-zx

@bbybloop @sturnn372 @chrissturnsss @izzylovesmatt

@sturniolossss @sturniolofannnforevver @zariyam @r0s3luvr

@sturniolosluttt @matts1freak @conspiracy-ash

@stvrnzwrld @blehblehbleh735

@luvb0xoxo @ivysturnss @stars4star @sturnsxbitvh

@amayaaaho @thebigbadwolfahoooo @riasturns @kamrynnsturns @sophand4n4 @strnlslut

[ahintofchaos]

Homecoming

Agatha Harkness X Reader

Summary:

"Can we go home?"

Agatha, Reader, and Billy clean up and go home after the showdown with Rio. Home, of course, being the Kaplan residence in Eastview. Three bloody witches in suburbia.

Established AgathaxReader, can be read as a standalone or with my other Agatha fics.

“Can we go home?”

You’re bloodied and battered, having just been launched around the backyard like a toy. Your voice is raspy but steady as you stumble to your feet, moving almost unconsciously toward Agatha. Agatha, whose arms are opening to you. 

What a nightmare. Trust Agatha to have the single most dramatic closure talk with an ex you’ve ever seen. You would question her taste in women if you weren’t also one of her choices. 

You find purchase in Agatha’s arms, sagging against her. She, with her recently recovered powers, seems better off than you. Billy, too, is in relatively good shape. He holds his hands out under your arms like he’s waiting to catch you if you fall. You want no one’s touch but Agatha’s right now. “Want to define home for me, honey?” 

You consider her words. You had meant the place where Agatha had lived, but that was currently a little busted, what with the showdown with Rio that took out several windows and inexplicably, a sink. Not to mention the lack of a front door and the probably trashed interior, thanks to the Salem Seven. “Okay. Can we go somewhere else?” 

You don’t know where that would be, but you’re desperate for a place to rest. Agatha might be one of the most powerful witches to ever exist, but you were relatively ordinary as far as witches went, and you were well past your limit. Agatha didn’t offer a solution, but Billy piped up almost hesitantly.

“You can come with me. I mean, to my house.” 

You’re too tired to argue, and Agatha seems to follow your lead. She nods at the boy and you all three make your way around the side of the house to the road, where Billy’s Subaru is miraculously untouched. “What a shitshow,” Agatha mutters as she sets you in the backseat, and you can’t tell if she means the events of today or the state of the car. Both, probably. There are tumbleweeds of crumpled receipts back here, and you’re acutely aware of the amount of crumbs you’re sitting on. Teenagers have never been known for their cleanliness, but this is really something.

Instead of getting into the passenger seat like you expected, Agatha slides in next to you. She buckles your seatbelt and then hers. Billy waits until you’re both set to start off down the street, and before long your head is lolling against the window as you slip into a fuzzy half-sleep state. 

The next thing you register is someone’s fingers in your hair, lightly stroking across all the knots and snarls you’ve accumulated. Your head is no longer against the window but on Agatha’s shoulder, soft and reliable. She gently tilts your head up once your eyes start to flicker open, and she reaches over you to undo your seatbelt. With a whispered “hang tight,” she gets out, leaving your side cold without her pressed against you. She opens your door and half lifts you out of the car. You wind your arm in hers and make your way up the walkway of Billy’s house. It’s quaint, not unlike Agatha’s house. Very suburban. The door isn’t locked, and the three of you walk right in. Billy shucks off his shoes at the front door, and you attempt to do the same. Agatha makes no effort. Billy’s mother is on the couch, her back to the door, but she turns around when she hears you come in. “William?”

Billy ducks sheepishly. “Hi, Mom, I–” 

“Where were you? You’ve been gone for 24 hours!” 

Billy’s father comes in from the kitchen and joins the conversation, which at this point is more of a monologue. Lots of “All day, no communication, where on earth were you?” Their lecture pauses for a moment as both parents simultaneously switch their attention to you. And what a sight you must be. A very disheveled and rather bloodied woman in the arms of a centuries-old witch, who is visibly older than you. Although the age difference is negligible after so many centuries, Agatha does look older than you by appearance. It must be quite the shock, you think, to have your son come home after going missing for a day and bringing with him two unusual guests. Fortunately, Billy’s parents seem more relieved to have him home than anything, and are fairly dismissive of the fact that you’re also here. 

“Uh, Mom, Dad,” Billy says, “we’ve had a really long day and they’re going to crash here, okay?” He motions to you and Agatha, who is at this point holding you up almost entirely, her arm tight around your waist. 

Mrs. Kaplan nods, turning back to Billy. “Yes, of course, sure,” she says, barely paying you any mind. “But you need to communicate with us, William. We were so worried. And it’s so late!” As the three of you walk past her and up the stairs, her eyes linger on Agatha’s swirling dress and coat. You quickly turn your attention back to the stairs, lest you miss one and send you and Agatha both tumbling back down. 

–

“So, this is my room,” Billy says, casting his arm around the space, “and this is the bathroom, if you need it.” It’s a nice little space. Very Billy Kaplan. Maximoff? Who knows. Your attention is fixed on the bed. You want nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a century, but you’re also uncomfortably aware of the blood drying in sticky patches all over your face and neck, courtesy of Rio’s death by a thousand cuts. You’re so tired you’re numb, and you can’t really tell what blood is Agatha’s and what’s yours anymore. But judging by the way both she and Billy look at you, a good bit of it is yours. Ouch. 

“Let’s get you fixed up, then we can sleep,” Agatha says, gently prodding you along toward the bathroom. You follow mutely, taking a seat on the closed toilet while Agatha starts running the sink water. She cups her hands and holds the water up to the tiny window, and you recognize Jen’s healing spell. Agatha looks at you and tilts her head back, and you get her message and do the same. She opens her hands over your face, and the water starts to rinse away the blood. It’s certainly messy, and Billy starts to interject that maybe you should move to the shower for this, but one look from Agatha shuts him up again. She repeats the process several times, picking glass out of your hair and skin where she finds it. Eventually, you’re looking better, and she takes one of the Kaplans’s pristine white hand towels and uses it to gently wipe away the rest of the crusted blood and dirt. You close your eyes, leaning into her touch. She finishes, but keeps her hand on your face, steadying you. You could fall asleep right there. 

“Hey,” Agatha waves a hand toward Billy, who has been observing the entire process from the doorway of the tiny bathroom. “How about some fresh clothes? Find her something normal, please,” she says. That might be a dig at his current outfit, with its emo sweater and cape. She’s one to talk, you think. That purple coat was dramatic as hell. Billy ducks back into his room and rummages through some drawers, and returns with a clumsily folded tshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Okay?” he asks, and you and Agatha both nod. She closes the door in his face, not taking her hand away from you. Your pulse thumps against her fingertips and she’s never been so glad to feel it. 

“Up,” she coaxes, and you obey. She gently shimmies you out of your old shirt, which is beyond repair, and gently pulls your arms through the new one. It’s a band you don’t recognize, but it’s very Billy. She slides your pants down your legs and you brace yourself on her shoulders as you step out of them one leg at a time. 

“I feel like a baby,” you say as she slides the soft black sweatpants up your legs, settling them on your waist. Agatha looks at you. “You had a rough go out there. Let yourself be a baby. You’re my baby.” If you weren’t so tired you could’ve cried. 

Agatha opened the bathroom door again and you emerged back into Billy’s room, feeling slightly more alive than before. Billy is sitting on the bed, but Agatha motions for him to get off. “My mom said she’s going to bring the air mattress, so we can–” 

“Teen, I am four hundred years old. I am sleeping in a real bed. And so is she.” Her hand settles on your shoulder, and Billy understands what else she’s saying. 

“Oh, I didn’t–” 

“I’m aware,” Agatha snaps. She turns abruptly from him to pull down the covers for you, helping you into bed. Your bones nearly melt as you relax into the mattress. Agatha walks around the bed to the other side and slides in. You lift your tired head and she helps you nestle yourself in her lap, your face pressed against her soft thigh. It’s familiar and comforting, and you smile unconsciously. Cracking your eyes back open, you see Agatha stealing a glance at you, before she readjusts herself against the headboard and rests her hand on your side. Billy starts talking, and Agatha responds, but you can’t bring yourself to focus. You’re alive, Agatha’s alive, and you’re safe. You’re getting real sleep in a real bed for the first time in a week. You drift to sleep with the buzz of Agatha’s voice in your ears and her warmth against you. You breathe deep. 

Everything else is for tomorrow. 

____________________

“Is she asleep?” 

“No, she’s–” Agatha stops herself. Too soon for jokes about that. She pets your hair and you sigh, pressing your face against her lap. “Yes, she’s asleep.” 

Billy shifts on the air mattress. “I didn’t know you were, like, together,” he said.

“Well, now you know.” 

“I thought you and Rio–” 

“That was a long time ago. Things change.” 

Billy paused. “Is that why she was so mad? She wanted you back?” 

“Gee, I should have stopped to ask her. Maybe when she was busy trying to reap your soul to restore cosmic order.” 

“Okay, nevermind.” 

Agatha sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t care.” 

“You don’t? But you two were together, you had a ki–” 

“I’m aware, Teen. But it wasn’t supposed to happen. The universe was against it, and I didn’t care. I wanted to spit in the face of the universe. And it came back to bite me. I wanted to be as strong as Death.” 

“You were angry.”

“Of course I was. I have always been angry. You try being almost executed by your coven at 19. Given a killing power you never learned how to control. You got just a taste of power and couldn’t handle it. You’d have gone on a spree.” She certainly had, but she didn’t say that part out loud. 

Billy knew, all the same. Who wouldn’t give in to the most powerful, most protective part of them? “Are you still angry?” 

Agatha looked down at you, breathing deep, eyes still behind your heavy lids. “Anger is a part of everyone. If you’re not angry, you’re either stupid or lying. But there are more things than anger. And don’t let anyone give you that positivity bullshit. Life hurts. You can’t stop it from hurting. You just do things anyway. And then you find things to hold onto.” 

Billy’s eyes fall on you too, and Agatha clears her throat loudly. He readjusts and looks back at Agatha. “Alright.” 

“Turn off the light, Teen. I’m going to sleep.” 

__________________

Life had not been kind to Agatha. Gifted with a power that was more of a curse, despised by the one person who was supposed to love her above all. Forced to fend for herself against a cruel mother and a coven that never accepted her. No wonder she turned to the one most reliable part of her, the darkest part of her. No wonder she wanted to get back at the universe, be more powerful than life and death. Bend the rules. But no one is stronger than death. Nicholas, being made partly by Death, was never meant to live. Agatha bent the rules as far as she could. And despite her best efforts, the universe came crashing down on her again, taking her son. Reminding her that she cannot force something that was never meant to be. It was enough to end a person. But Agatha was nothing if not a survivor. And eventually she found things worth holding onto. The most central of whom was now fast asleep in her arms, in the bedroom of a teenage boy. Four centuries of life, day by day, and now she was here. With an emo sidekick and the love of her life and the memory of her very own coven. What a journey. What a way to begin.

Taglist:

@polaris-likethestar

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: getting a much needed break, you find yourself getting scolded by Jimmy. you vent to Daisuke about it when he finally finishes his tasks.

tw: Jimmy 🤢

a/n: idk how to continue this, should I follow the event of the game (unbearable angst), or try and make it end happier?? If I do the second one I kinda feel like I'm ruining the point of the game tho...

wc: 1.4k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

You had started to regret your confession already. You thought confessing was supposed to fix everything, so why did your gooey, icky feelings grow ten times worse? It was honestly comical seeing you glower everytime Daisuke gave you an ounce of affection. It even made Swansea internally chuckle at the sight. Even though it seems you were regretting all your life actions, you were honestly just trying to get used to your heart fluttering and your stomach twisting into knots. It was all odd and new, and you were a bit scared that this was all too good to be true. 

You were also trying to get used to the disgusting, adoring thoughts. You had become a lovesick fool and you weren’t sure what to make of it. You wanted to hug Daisuke? Ew. You wished to cuddle him at night? Disgusting. God forbid, you wanted to kiss him? Toss yourself in the trash. Yeah…you were struggling to accept that thinking those things were okay, and being vulnerable enough to speak your wants aloud. Daisuke, on the other hand, seemed like everything was right as rain. Like loving you came naturally to him. It made your skin crawl. 

Tilting your head back, you let the warm water drown your thoughts. Your brain wouldn’t let you catch a break, couldn’t you think about something else for a second? Like that book you’ve been reading? When you brought it with you it had been all the rage, but you can’t understand the hype. Sure you were only halfway done, but the main love interest was the worst person ever, how could anyone get behind him? He literally threatens to kill the protags family, basically kidnaps her, and you’re assuming she's going to ‘find the good in him’ and they ‘live happily ever after’. Unfortunately, you had to tough it out as you could only bring so many books for entertainment. Hopefully they turn the plot around and prove you wrong. Perhaps the protag actually fights back somehow or tricks the guy into thinking she’s fallen for him only to stab him in the back. Now that? You could get behind. 

Yeah, you need to finish that, you’ve been so preoccupied with work and Daisuke you haven't had much time for yourself. Shutting the water off, you dried yourself off and put on casual clothes. You’d finished your chores early, giving you a much needed break. Walking towards the sleeping quarters, you were simply minding your own business when a rude voice made you snap to attention. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Jimmy’s harsh voice growled out. Looking to your right, you noticed it was only the two of you in the hall, and he was glaring right at you. You blinked in confusion, not able to get a word out before he continued. “Do you know how much more shit needs to be done? Of course Anya just lets you do whatever the hell you want, huh? Good for nothing brat. I gotta get everything done around here.” 

You couldn’t stop the sneer that settled over your face, gazing at the middle aged man with disgust. Who the hell does he think he is? You had spent the most of your trip ignoring the other, you thought it was a mutual avoidance thing. You had a feeling there wasn’t much for either of you to talk about, and he seemed standoffish anyways, but this? You hadn’t expected him to lash out at you. And for getting a break of all things. And wait, not even just that, he was blaming Anya too? 

You couldn’t even defend yourself before he stormed off, grumbling about something or another. Who the hell pissed in his cheerios? Well…okay, odd encounter. You did your best to shrug it off, continuing to your room, but something was bugging you. Just what exactly made him so aggravated? Not like you actually cared, he probably deserved whatever it was if he acts like that to someone he barely knows. 

Whatever, you have a book that needs to be finished. That’s all that mattered at the moment.

…

You had become so engrossed in the story, you nearly missed the knock on your door. Glancing up, you shouted a quick come in, not wanting to lose your place. You were so close to finishing already, and the plot had picked up from where you left off. It wasn’t as bad as the start, the author had started as a cliche and averted the readers expectations, slowly turning the story into a revenge plot. Chefs kiss, seven out of ten so far, and if the ending was as good as everyone said it was, then perhaps that rating will go up.

Daisuke joined you on the bed, head popping over your shoulder and eyeing the book, “Good book?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, setting it on your lap but keeping your place with your finger. Your skin tingled as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and resting his head on your shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat, but the fluttering in your stomach had dulled somewhat. That wasn’t a bad thing per say. Actually it brought you a sense of relief, you were growing used to his affection. Not taking it for granted or anything, but finding comfort in it instead of tension. To be fair, it was easier for you to accept it when it was just the two of you, no peering eyes of judgment to make you overthink your actions. Just the two of you enjoying the other’s presence. 

“You should read it to me, I like hearing your voice.” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. Okay now he ruined it as it felt like sparks going off under your skin, heat crawling up your face, shoulders tensing in just the slightest. How could he say that so simply? Like it wasn’t a life changing statement? 

“O-okay,” You agreed, trying your hardest to keep your voice from wavering (and failing). Dog earring the page you left on (a crime, but you were too cheap to buy bookmarks), you turned to the first page, pausing before starting. “How was your day?” Sure, he had become more touchy after you officially started dating, but he seemed a bit more so at the moment.

“It was fine,” Daisuke shrugged, his warm breath heating your neck and causing your hair to stand on end. The fact that you were touch starved was clearly showing. “Keep messing up but that’s just normal.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it eventually,” You replied, reaching back and messing with his hair. You weren’t sure why you did it, it just seemed like the right thing to do, and the fact that he leaned into your touch seemed to validate that thought. “Being a mechanic isn’t easy, not to mention you do a lot of the electric work too.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. “How was yours?”

“Not too bad,” You replied, slowly melting into the brunette’s touch. “Got done early, but…well, I guess something happened.” Daisuke hummed, waiting for you to continue. “Jimmy exploded for no reason, going off about how he’s gotta do everything around the ship.”

“Huh?” Daisuke looked confused and annoyed, pulling away slightly to share a look with you. “What about the Captain or hell, even Swansea does a lot.”

“I know right!” You exclaimed, turning around in his arms slightly, dropping the book off to the side. “Not to mention Anya’s the only one holding us all together.” 

“Exactly,” Daisuke nodded enthusiastically. “Not to mention you do all the small stuff so the others can focus on their bigger tasks. Keeping the ship running smoothly and all that.”

“You too,” argued. “You’re learning a lot every day, and sure you may mess up from time to time, but at the end of the day you’re doing a lot. And you keep the ship from being a dull, boring routine of madness.”

His smile turned tender, squeezing you gently, “You’re right, without me you’d have no one to cuddle with.” 

Once again you found yourself scowling, “You say that like it's a necessity.” It seemed you and deflection went hand in hand. 

“I dunno,” He chuckled, lucky for you he found it adorable whenever you scrunch your face like that. “I’m not sure how I survived so long without you in my arms.” 

“You’re so cheesy,” You groaned, draping your entire weight on him, the both of you falling onto the bed. 

“And you love it.”

You hated that he was right.

[megumislovedoll]

COOL WITH YOU 💽

01: obnoxious music

NOTES ! this chapter is based on this newjeans performance I recommend watching it for a better reading experience

Megumi’s pov yesterday 10pm

megumi is fast asleep when he hears a loud blast of pop music and yelling from down the hall. What are they so excited for at this time? He tries pulling his pillow over his ears, but the music is super loud something obnoxiously catchy, like, “I’m super shy, super shy…”followed by Yuji and Toge screaming the lyrics.

“What the fuck…” he mutters, finally throwing his blanket off and leaving his room.

He walks into the living room, finding Yuji and Toge eyes too glued to the screen to even notice him. “What the hell are you guys screaming for? It’s like 10pm. Don’t you have class tomorrow?” He mumbled, but they can barely hear him.

“Y/N’S MAKEUP IS SOOOO GOOD!” Yuji kicks his feet, followed by Toge’s just as equally excited, “No, ‘cause Riko ate that outfit!”

Megumi groans as Yuta pokes his head out of his own room. “Can you get them to shut up… please?” Megumi pleads and Yuta sighs. 

Then raises his voice to get their attention. “What are you guys even watching at this time? Could you at least turn it down?”

“The NewJeans performance I told you about!” Toge responds.

“Ohh, I forgot you told me about that” he walks over to the side of the couch to see the screen.

Megumi raises an eyebrow. The hell is NewJeans? He sighs, but as he turns to leave, Yuji tugs him onto the couch.

“Just sit down and watch, Megumi. A little watching can’t hurt!”

Megumi puts his head on his forehead annoyed as hell but he begrudgingly sits down, glancing at the screen, where a girl in the middle of the group seems to stand out. I mean why wouldn’t she if she’s in the middle she’s obviously important for something. Yuta leans over. “Wait, Toge, who’s who again?”

Toge points. “White top with a ponytail and bow is Y/N. Two pigtails in the cropped shirt is Riko, two buns and black shirt is Nobara, two pigtails with a normal shirt is Maki, and the girl with the sheer shirt I think she’s wearing a bun is Miwa.”

“Oh… okay.” Yuta finally sits down. Megumi watches the girl in the center. “So, the girl in the middle is Y/N?”

“Yup,” Yuji says, eyes glued to the screen.

They do look pretty cool, Megumi thinks, but before he can comment, the song ends. They bow, and he sighs with relief. “Alright, so they’re done now. Can you guys turn off the—”

“Nope!” Yuji yanks him back onto the couch. “They’ve got a second performance for OMG!”

Megumi groans, letting his head fall back against the cushions.

yn pov yesterday 10:10pm

A crowd of stylists and assistants bustled around her, hurrying her down the hallway toward a dressing room for a quick change. She had no idea where the rest of her group was, but that didn’t matter; what mattered was that the whole group had ten minutes tops to get into these over-the-top outfits and fix their makeup. 

No time to worry about anything else.

As soon as she got to the room, someone handed her part of her costume, and she slipped it on as fast as she could. An assistant crouched down to help with the tricky stuff—her boots, which were more like armor, and some wings they’d attached to her back. Honestly, though? She wasn’t even that stressed. This was just part of being an idol. She’d done crazier quick changes before.

Finally dressed, she was escorted backstage, where she spotted Riko waiting. Her friend’s eyes lit up, and Riko beamed at her. “You look amazing! The blonde braids looks so good on you.”

She squealed back, “No, brown hair on you is everything!” Riko didn’t get a chance to thank her before they saw Nobara, Maki, and Miwa approaching. The five of them all started talking at once, pointing out little details of each other’s outfits.

“We still have like three minutes left,” Miwa said, glancing around the stage. “And the set is so cute! We should take a picture.”

“But we have to do it quick! Cameras will go live any second,” Maki said, already positioning herself.

They scrambled onto the stage, posing as Riko took the picture. Just then, a loud voice from backstage called the countdown: “Ten, Nine, Eight…”

Hearing the countdown they rushed off the stage, barely managing to contain their laughter.

Three, Two, One, action! 

COOL WITH YOU 💿

EXTRA ! this is the picture they took on stage:

the people backstage were pissed at them for getting on the stage when they weren’t supposed to

maki has always had the most fangirls

it was lowk hard for the group to dance in those heavy ads she’s but they persevered TAGLIST ! @cinnamxnangel @sorenflyinn @beepbopzlorp @angelcakkess @ibeatmywifeandkidss @h-aecat @megumisluciouslashes @gumims @starrysho @tlissablr @kiss-my-asscheeks @good-mourning0 @mikikoo @1l-ynn @stillnotherapy @kzoyu @brideads @mikko-mikko @shokosbunny @fushiguruuzzzz @hanniemylovelyquokka @adoremae @ocyeanicc

if your tag doesn’t work please fix it in your settings

©megumislovedoll all rights reserved. do not translate, repost on other platforms, modify, or copy.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Thank U

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violenc, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bruce Wayne/Batman (Christian Bale version)

Summary: you try to thank the vigilante who saved your life.

In the same universe as Home Sweet Home

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

‘To Batman’ 

No, that sounds ridiculous. All of this is just absurd. You don’t really think this will go anywhere but you just need to get the thoughts out. After a sleepless night, you need to put it somewhere before it boils over inside of you. 

You need to thank the man who saved you. If that’s what he is. He seems inhuman with all that he does for Gotham. 

‘My hero’ 

Ugh. New page. 

‘Hi. 

You don’t know me, but you saved my life. I know I’m not the only one and I hope I’m not the only one to say thanks. That’s what this is. I know it isn’t much but I’m not sure how else to do this. 

If you don’t remember me, that’s okay. I was walking home and there was a man following me. Then two. Then three. Then you were there. 

And just as quick, you were gone and so were they. I didn’t get the chance to thank you but I got home safe. Because of you. 

Batman. My hero. 

I owe you my life. 

Stay safe. 

Just another Gotham citizen.’ 

You reread the letter and cringe. What are you doing? You’re crazy. Is this pick-me energy? 

Ugh. You just can’t get over it. Your heart races every time the scene plays out in your head. Those men, their footfalls echoing yours, getting closer and closer, penning you in as they came at you from all sides. 

Your shoulders rose as you shrunk down and braced yourself for a heedless fight. Then the sudden flapping, the crash and crunch of violence, the shadows at battle against the brick wall as you stood by helplessly. Then the silence and his grizzled command. 

‘Go home.’ 

You ran all the way there. You didn’t look back or stop. And you didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. The dregs of adrenaline are still in you. 

Fatigue finally sets in as the sun rises. You fold up the letter and slide it into and envelope. You don’t expect this to go well. You don’t know what you’re doing. 

You’re in the same clothes as the night before. You feel like you’ve been frozen. That night fogs around you like a cloud. So close... it could’ve been so much worse. You could have been another news story. Another body in and alley. 

You walk down to the precinct. You stare at the doors for a while before you make yourself enter. The last time you went there, the only time, they wouldn’t even file a report about the man who sleeps outside your apartment door. He went away though... just a few days later. 

You go up to the counter. 

“Hi, erm, I need to get this to Commissioner Gordon.” You say. 

The uniformed officer doesn’t look up. He laughs.  

“It’s just a letter,” you plead. 

“Girl, you’re wasting everyone’s time right now,” the man doesn’t look away from the computer screen. 

“Please,” you hold the envelope through the little gap under the thick plastic window. 

“What’s this? A love letter?” He scoffs. 

“Joe, don’t be a dick,” another officer approaches and takes the letter. “I’ll give it to him.” 

“Oh, thank you so much,” you preen. 

“Don’t know if he’ll read it,” he mutters. 

“He just needs to look on the outside,” you point. 

He flips the envelope and reads your writing; ‘Batman, c/o Commissioner Gordon’. He tilts his head as he looks up at you. He shrugs. 

“Whatever, it’s a reason to stretch my legs,” he wiggles the letter between his fingers. “Have a good day, ma’am.” 

“Thanks, officer.” 

You turn and scurry out of the precinct. You don’t think the caped crusader will ever see that letter but at least you tried. It might not help you sleep at night, but it will be one less thing keeping you awake. 

[stylesluxx]

goodnight – a.hotchner

[warnings: none. i think pretty wholesome. oh jack and a new baby are included]

summary: in which y/n leaves hotch voicemails while he’s away

word count: 471

main masterlist

Night One

“Hey, sweetheart. I hope everything’s going okay and that you’re staying safe. Jack missed you a lot today—he spent half the evening drawing you a picture of our family for when you get home. He’s determined to surprise you with it. And our little one was asking for you at bedtime. They were reaching for your side of the bed like they know it’s missing something without you. I think they’re starting to understand when you’re away, which is sweet but a little heartbreaking too. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that we love you, and we can’t wait to have you back home. Sleep well if you get a chance, okay? And call us if you can. Goodnight, Aaron.”

Night Two

“Hi, love. I don’t want to bother you if you’re resting, but I just wanted to hear your voice. It’s been a long day here, but Jack was such a trooper—he had his first soccer game, and he scored a goal! He kept saying, ‘Dad would have cheered the loudest,’ and you know what? He’s probably right. You’re on his mind a lot, even though he’s trying to be brave. And our little one fell asleep holding onto one of your old shirts. They wouldn’t let go, like they can feel you in it. It makes me feel close to you too, somehow. I hope you’re holding up, my love. I miss you so much. We’ll be here, waiting. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Night Three

“Hey, baby. Just wanted to say goodnight. Jack’s out cold after an evening of running around like a maniac—he wanted to show our little one how to play hide and seek. They kept calling your name like they thought you’d pop up in the next hiding spot. They both miss you so much, but I think it’s safe to say I might miss you even more tonight. I’m keeping the bed warm, and your pillow’s already waiting for you. Sleep tight if you can, and remember we’re all sending you so much love. Goodnight, Aaron. Dream of coming home to us soon.”

Night Four

“Hi, honey. It’s me again. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help leaving these voicemails. It makes me feel like I’m tucking you in from afar. Jack fell asleep with a book he swears he’s saving to read with you. And the little one was asking for ‘Da-da’ all night, every time they woke up. We’re all counting down the days, my love. This house feels a little emptier without you, but we’ll fill it up with love until you’re back. Goodnight, my heart. Be safe, and know we’re waiting right here, just as you left us. All my love.”

[AN: had this idea while on my road trip. hope you guys enjoy. and of course, the link to my taglist]

[ak319]

I absolutely love your yandere Arthur stuff- though I really have the curiosity to see him suffer. I was wondering how he'd go about if the reader, in a desperate attempt to escape, ended up getting really really hurt (if she survived or not, up to you.. but make it real heart shattering please)

Thank you and keep being awesome!!

(AN: So, I got two asks (TW) relating to suicide and the other two I added cuz I thought they lined perfectly with the plot that came to my mind. So saddle up as this is going to be a tough one, do read the warnings, and also thank you to all the anons for reading and sending the asks!)

Warnings/MDNI: Suicide, angst, forced prostitution, the reader is underage. (15-16), not incest, strictly platonic, abuse// I don't condone such behaviour

It had been almost a week since you’d run, from everything that had suffocated you. An older woman in her 50s, a widow with two married daughters, had found you and decided to give you shelter. You couldn’t have been more grateful to Linda, and you even felt for her, living alone in a small house with only her animals for company. What you hadn’t expected, perhaps in your own naivety and desperation, was that choices made in haste often became someone else’s chance to shape their own life for the better.

You were dusting off a vase when you noticed two men approaching the fence on horseback. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach. Even the faint sound of hooves and the sight of those hats stirred reminders of your brother, of the camp, memories Linda knew well by now.

“Linda, there are people outside,” you said, voice tight with unease. She looked up from her book, her expression unreadable as she rose. With an air of certainty, as if she’d anticipated this, she opened the door without even glancing to see who they were.

“Good mornin’, Miss Linda.”

The men stepped inside, their eyes sweeping over the small room before landing on you, a young girl, untouched as they were told, standing tensely in the corner, cloth in hand.

“Is she the one?”

“Yes. Her name’s (Y/N),” Linda replied without hesitation, her tone strangely casual.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Um, Miss Linda?” you murmured, hoping for some explanation. But when you looked at her, the warmth she’d shown when she’d found you, empty-handed and alone, was nowhere to be found.

As their conversation continued, realization dawned painfully fast. This wasn’t an innocent meeting. She had sold you, to men who clearly had no good intentions.

“NO!” you shouted, thrashing as one of them seized you, his grip iron-tight. Panic surged through you as you struggled, tears stinging your eyes.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? LINDA!” you screamed, your voice cracking. “You have daughters of your own!” But the other man quickly moved to hold you down, binding your wrists as dread washed over you. No, this can’t be real, you thought, desperately praying for a miracle, for anything.

“I don’t have daughters,” Linda replied flatly, her gaze fixed on the money roll they handed her. “I live alone. You fell right into my trap, girly, this is what I do for a living.” She didn’t even look up as they gagged you, ignoring your cries and pleas as they dragged you from her house, indifferent to your terror.

⋆⋆⋆

It had been three months since they’d dragged you into this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers with cold eyes and colder hearts.It was useless no matter how much you begged or how hard you fought. The punishments, the beatings, the days locked away in dank cellars, became too much to bear.

"It's always a fun challenge to tame young ones like you,"

Eventually, the fight drained out of you. Bit by bit, you surrendered. You gave up on freedom, on dignity, on every cherished memory. You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t giving up, that they had taken it from you. But deep down, you knew the people around you would laugh at that. A woman, giving in? As if you’d ever had a choice.

Even if... even if your brother somehow found you, what would he say? If he saw you here, saw all that had happened, would he forgive you for running away? He will, he will because you're the only one he has left. It was a lie you whispered to yourself just to make it through the endless nights.

But still, despite everything, you prayed. Prayed that somehow he’d find you, that he’d come and take you back. That he’d see past the shame, past the bruises and broken pieces, and remember the sister you used to be. You clung to that thin thread of hope, fragile as it was, because it was the only thing left that still felt like yours.

⋆⋆⋆

Arthur hadn’t had a moment’s peace since you disappeared. The guilt and fury festered into a dark cloud over him, filling every waking moment. Every step, every job he took on, only seemed to twist the knife deeper, because how could he even think about anything else while you were out there alone?

He lashed out at everyone. Every misstep or delay was another reminder that they’d failed to keep you safe, to keep you close. It stung him that no one had been there, that Dutch’s assurances and promises meant so little when it came down to it. The camp members bore the brunt of his fury, his paranoia that they might’ve even helped you leave simmering just beneath the surface. And though they knew better than to push back, they held their patience, trying to calm him, even if it was like talking to a wall. How could these people not take care of you? It was the only thing he had asked Dutch for in exchange for giving his all, his best with his every breath.

Still, he couldn’t rest. Every day he pushed himself, scanning faces in crowded towns, following trails that led nowhere. He’d never admit it, but he was scared, scared of what might’ve happened to you. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw you for himself, safe and within the bounds of camp again.

⋆⋆⋆

It was one of those days where Chief, the man who forced you to call him that, as if it somehow dignified his cruelty, had you paraded through saloons to attract new customers. The older, more experienced girls absorbed most of the men’s attention, giving you brief respites where you could linger near the corners, gaze averted, trying not to see or be seen. This was your coping mechanism: be present but remain hidden, fading into the shadows, preserving the last shreds of yourself.

Chief rarely paid attention to your position; he was usually too engrossed in gambling or drinking with his cronies to notice. So long as you didn’t step out of line or attempt an escape, an impossible feat with his guards stationed outside, he didn’t care where you lingered. For these few stolen moments, you could almost feel invisible, protected by the wall at your back and the murmur of unfamiliar voices.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Charles. Right there, across the room. Your heart thundered, your breath catching in your throat. He was here, and the realization struck you like a blow. You must’ve stared too long because his eyes landed on you, recognition dawning in his gaze. You could see his shock twist into something harder, his face darkening as he took in your presence here.

His eyes were locked onto you, and he rose from his seat, his gaze sharp and unyielding, scanning every inch of you with a dawning recognition. Each step he took made your heart pound harder, a mix of disbelief and terror twisting in your chest. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe, as you pressed yourself further against the wall, as though it might somehow swallow you up.

“(Y/N)...?”

His voice was low, laced with disbelief and something that almost sounded like relief, but there was no mistaking the tremor in it. Your throat tightened, and a thousand unspoken words tangled there, as if your body itself was rejecting the reality of being found.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your tongue felt heavy, paralyzed by shame and fear. The silence was broken by Chief, who was now at your side oblivious to the storm brewing, chuckled and tightened his hand on your shoulder. "This is Cherry, my newest one. One of the youngest, too," he taunted, a sick grin spreading across his face. "Would you like a taste, sir?"

Charles didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he was on Chief, his fists swinging. You watched as Charles’s rage took over, each blow landing harder than the last, rendering Chief into a bloody, unrecognizable heap. The noise and chaos around you faded, replaced by a surreal, dreamlike silence.

You wanted to move, to say something, anything, but shock held you frozen. The reality was hitting you all at once, Charles had found you. After all this time, your prayers have finally been answered. But along with the relief, dread crept in. Charles was here, yes, but what about Arthur?

Arthur. The thought of facing him filled you with a hollow, bone-deep fear. What would he say? What would he do when he saw you like this?

“Arthur’s been looking for you. Day and night, he’s been looking. And he’s… well, you know how he is.” He paused, his gaze turning serious. “But he needs to see you. Needs to know you’re safe.”

"I--can't....Charles," he was the second after Arthur whom you called a brother, if this was your condition in front of him, you dreaded facing your real one.

"He...will --no, please." No, this wasn't how it was supposed to be, you should have been happy to go.

"The hell I am leaving you here!"

"Charles, no, you don’t understand!" you protested, your voice trembling as you recoiled slightly from his touch. “Arthur… he’ll be furious! He’ll-”

“He’ll be furious if he finds out you’re here, too,” Charles interjected, his tone sharp yet laced with concern. “But I can’t leave you here. You deserve better than this.”

You nodded slowly, still numb, letting him lead you outside, where the guards who usually kept watch were already scattered, backing off after seeing Charles’s wrath. He didn’t let you go, staying close as he guided you through the quiet streets.

With a final glance back at the saloon, you took his hand, feeling a mix of fear and gratitude surge through you. As you climbed onto the horse behind him, the reality of what lay ahead crashed over you like a wave.

⋆⋆⋆

All the guilt and frustration that Arthur had felt at himself and the others had now morphed into a seething fury. He could barely contain the storm brewing inside him as he stood there, fists clenched, watching Charles bring you back to camp. You stood behind him, your head bowed, and he could feel the weight of your shame even from a distance.

When Charles, with his broken and hesitant words, explained where you had been and what you had endured , Arthur felt a rush of bile rise in his throat. Hearing that you had been forced into such a degrading life, turning into a whore, no less in front of the whole camp, set off a wildfire of rage within him. It felt as if every cell in his body was screaming, torn between the desire to protect you and the urge to just shoot you and then himself.

“Why…?” he managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity of his gaze was like fire. You could only let out a whimper, too overwhelmed by shame and fear to answer.

“Arthur... it's not (Y/N)'s fault-” Charles began, trying to explain the circumstances, but Arthur cut him off sharply, the anger bubbling over.

“I AM ASKING HER, CHARLES, SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I ASKED YOU SOMETHING!” His voice thundered across the camp, startling the others who had gathered to witness the confrontation.

Silence fell over the clearing, all eyes on you as Arthur took a step forward, his expression a mix of pain and fury. You flinched, feeling the heat of his anger radiating off him like a tangible force.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a rabbit caught in the glare of a predator. You could see the way his fists trembled, the way his jaw clenched, and it terrified you. “I---I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, "I am s-sorry...please."

Annabelle, having enough interjected. "Let the child breathe Arthur! You are scaring her for no fucking reason! You should be happy she's been found you dumbass!"

“Stay out of this, Annabelle!” Arthur snapped, the violence in his tone making everyone around him tense. “You don’t know what she’s done. You don’t know how she’s made me suffer!”

Hosea, who had been observing quietly, spoke up as well, attempting to de-escalate the situation. “Arthur, we need to think this through. She’s back now, that’s what matters-”

But before Hosea could finish, Dutch stepped in, his voice commanding. “Enough! This isn’t helping anyone. Arthur, take a breath. We’ll sort this out, but you need to calm down.”

Arthur’s fury seemed to intensify, the frustration boiling over. “Calm down!?” he spat, eyes dark with rage. “She thinks she can run away from me, become a whore and come back like nothing happened? I’m not letting her off that easy!”

With a sudden, swift movement, he seized your arm, dragging you towards a nearby tent. You stumbled, panic rising within you as you felt the grip of his hand, the anger radiating off him like heat from a fire.

“Arthur, please!” you cried, but he didn’t respond, his jaw set in a hard line as he pulled you along, ignoring the protests from Annabelle and Hosea.

"If anyone comes near me, I am gonna gut em' alive!"

“Arthur, think about what you’re doing!” Annabelle called after you, her voice strained with concern. “You can’t just take her away like this-” Dutch silenced her with holding her shoulders. "Don't you dare go near him! He's not in his senses-"

"SO GO AND STOP HIM!"

But he was already inside the tent, and the flap fell shut behind you with a heavy finality. The moment you were alone, he released you, stepping back with a mixture of anger and desperation. “Why would you do this to me? To us?” he demanded, his voice low and intense.

You backed away and fell onto the cot. "Just...just listen and I'll explain-

"Oh really? Did you enjoy your adventures? See, I was right. This is what they fuckin' taught you , what that bitch Anne, taught you. That fuckin' school!" He grabbed you by your jaw to make you face him. That's when you saw the tint of hurt in his eyes.

“You think this is a joke? I’m a joke? You fuckin’ ran our family’s name, my name, into the mud. I can’t even--” He threw you back onto the bed, the impact rattling through your bones. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Arthur, I’m still me,” you whispered, through sobs. “I’m still.... your sister."

"IF YOU WERE YOU WOULD HAVE LISTENED TO ME AND STAYED HERE!"

He was right, you should have listened and stayed here, chasing your dreams only led you to more nightmares and even now, it seems there are more to face.

You could barely catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you scrambled to find words that might bridge the chasm between you. Taking a shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"You should be lucky I haven't shot you yet. If I was the one who found you, God knows what I would have done. Stay in this fucking tent until I say so, and don’t show me your face." His voice was low and dangerous, a growl that reverberated through the air like a thunderclap.

You flinched at his words, the truth of them hitting you like a slap. You had been trying to convince yourself that you were still worthy, still, the same person who had left the camp. But standing in front of him, the reality crashed down. You were not that person anymore, and you didn’t know how to return to her.

⋆⋆⋆

Annabelle and the others came to check on you, their voices a distant murmur as if they were speaking through water. You barely registered their presence, lost in a maze of your thoughts, every path leading back to Arthur’s harsh words. What had you expected from him? A comforting embrace? A gentle reminder that you were still his sister, despite everything?

You couldn't help but wonder if you were truly as heinous as he implied. Were you still his blood even? The questions tormented you, each one sharper than the last. You knew the truth of his overprotectiveness, it stemmed from love, from a desire to shield you from the dangers of the world. Yet here you were, the very thing he had feared, tainted by your stubborn quest for freedom and adventure.

Pushing the flap of his tent aside just enough to peek in, you caught sight of him, his back turned to you, oblivious to your presence. Just like he turned his back today on you. Funny.

With a deep breath, you stepped inside and placed the note in his satchel, the fabric brushing against your fingertips feeling heavier than it should.

You took one last glance at your brother, the weight of your choices pressing down on your heart, then slipped out of the tent, moving stealthily toward the supply wagon

When you retrieved what you needed, you returned to the privacy of your tent, the familiar space feeling more suffocating than ever. You sank onto the cot, the cold metal of the weapon glimmering in the bits of moonlight that managed to seep through the fabric.

Taking your time, you pondered everything that had brought you to this moment. You searched desperately for a glimmer of hope, but all you found were dead ends. Before returning with Charles, you had imagined a future where your brother might forgive you, where he could overlook the darkness of the past and allow you both to move on, forgetting the pain that had laced your life. You were even ready to let go of the past, but that hope had shattered just as quickly as it had formed.

With a final breath, you cocked the revolver, the click echoing in the silence of the night. The weight of it pressed against your skin as you brought it to the side of your forehead. At that moment, the tumult of emotions surged, fear, regret, and an aching desire for peace, threatening to consume you whole, and it did.

⋆⋆⋆

3 hours.

It had been three hours and the camp was thick with an oppressive silence that weighed heavily on everyone. The men came and went into the tent, each trying to mask their sorrow with bravado, yet their eyes betrayed them, glassy, haunted. Annabelle’s wailing filled the air outside, her cries echoing like a banshee’s lament, punctuated by shouts of blame that pierced the quiet. Yet through it all, Arthur couldn’t hear anything; he couldn’t see anything except your limp form cradled in his arms, and the world faded to grey around him.

He was convinced it was just a nightmare, an illusion crafted by his mind to torment him.

“Arthur...” Charles’s voice broke through the haze as he placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders, his grip steady yet heavy with gravity.

“We...gotta bury her. Please.” The weight of those words hung heavy in the air, an inevitability that Arthur couldn’t bear to face.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head vehemently as if denying the truth would somehow alter the reality before him. “Only dead people are buried. She’s...she's just sleeping.” The fervour in his voice rose, desperation threading through his tone. “Mum had to always snatch the covers from her because she refused to wake up...she'll wake up soon...I know."

His memory of those mornings washed over him, a bittersweet recollection that clashed violently with the present. The warmth of your laughter, the way you would bury your head deeper into your blankets, evading the morning sun, flared in his mind. Arthur’s grip tightened around you, as if holding you closer could somehow anchor him in this cruel moment, could make you open your eyes.

“Arthur, please.” Charles’s voice trembled with a mixture of compassion and urgency. “We have to let her go. We can’t keep holding on.

“No, I said fucking no. Don't you come near, fuck off!" Arthur growled, the denial thick in his throat.

But all Arthur could think was how cruel it felt, how unbearable it was to even entertain the idea of accepting it. You were his baby sister, his blood, the only family he had left, the one he had been given responsibility by his mother, and the thought of your absence left a hollow pit in his stomach, a void that threatened to swallow him whole. He pressed his face against your hair, clutching you close to his chest, inhaling the scent of you, soft, sweet, and achingly familiar. He murmured incoherently, swaying back and forth like a child himself.

“No,” he repeated choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I won’t lose her, not like this. Not ever. GO AWAY!”

It had taken every man in the camp to separate Arthur from cradling your body. His grip was ironclad, his anguish palpable as he held you against him, as if the sheer force of his will could resurrect you from the depths of despair. They had to pry his fingers from your lifeless form, his cries piercing the stillness of the evening like a gunshot.

As they prepared the grave, the earth was turned and the makeshift coffin formed from an old wooden crate. Each shovel of dirt that fell felt like another piece of Arthur’s soul being buried alongside you. The men worked in silence, their hearts heavy with grief, knowing they could do nothing to ease the torment radiating from him. Charles stood to the side, his own heart breaking.

Even Hosea wasn't able to comfort anyone at this moment. He couldn't fathom that a girl like you, who had so much to live for, for whom he silently had promised to be a guardian of at this camp, was gone. Just like that. He will never forget how you cared for him as a daughter would for her father. Making sure he ate his meals, assisting him with chores and sipping morning (coffee/tea) with him as he read the local news alongside you.

Finally, the moment came. Arthur stumbled forward, the weight of your absence pulling him down as he lowered you into the ground. The first clod of dirt landed with a finality that echoed in the silence of the camp. Tears streamed down his cheek, cutting a path through the grime and dust of the world around him. It felt like a betrayal like they were burying not just you but every memory, every dream he had cherished.

The men finished covering you and when it was done, they stepped back, leaving Arthur alone with his sorrow. He sank to his knees, a hollow shell, fingers digging into the earth as he pressed his forehead against the freshly turned soil. It was all he had left of you.

Dutch approached cautiously, his heart heavy as he watched Arthur, the man he had come to rely on, the strongest in his camp, unravelling before him. “Arthur, my son.." he said softly, “we need to get back to camp. You can’t stay here like this.”

Arthur didn’t budge, his body rigid, his eyes fixed on the grave. “I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, voice low and filled with pain.

“Please,” Dutch urged softly, “it’s time to go. You can honor her memory at camp. We’ll make sure she’s remembered.”

But Arthur only tightened his grip on the soil. “I don’t care. I’m staying here. I won’t leave her. I can’t…she's alone here.” The darkness of the night and you being alone made his body tremble. With that, he lowered his forehead to the cool earth, the pain a constant pulse in his heart, echoing with every breath he took. At that moment, he felt as though he had buried a part of himself alongside you.

"Just...be sure to come back, son."

With a heavy heart, Dutch turned away, leaving Arthur to mourn. And as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Arthur remained there, kneeling by the grave. For God knows how long.

That was the last time since Dutch saw him. Arthur went away from the camp, at least for the whole 4 months. Wandering and coping. Even after he came back, nothing was the same anymore. Pearson's stew tasted worse than ever, its blandness a stark reminder of the joy you used to bring to their meals.

Annabelle had left shortly after your passing, her heart broken beyond repair. She broke things off with Dutch, her fury spilling over. Blaming him, blaming Arthur. This time, Arthur didn’t disagree with her. There were moments when he caught glimpses of hate and blame in Hosea’s eyes too due to that night, moments that cut deeper than any bullet.

That night he had shrouded his fear with his rage because he didn't have the heart to hear any further, anything of what you had endured because he knew he couldn't bear it. Due to this utter selfishness of his, he forgot about your pain, denied to offer his shoulder to you.

Hey Arthur,

I know I’m leaving, and I wish I could tell you that everything will be okay, but I need you to understand something important, none of this is your fault. Please don’t let yourself carry that burden. You’ve always tried to protect me, and it breaks my heart to think that you might blame yourself for my choices. I don’t want you to live with regret, feeling like you didn’t fulfil some promise to Mum. That’s not what she would have wanted for either of us. Neither Dad.

As I write this, I want you to remember the better, more joyful moments we shared when we were young. The laughter that rang through our home, the endless promises of going on adventures we dreamed of as we rode in town with Dad.

You always looked out for me, and always kept me safe, and I will forever be grateful for your protection. You did more than any brother could. But you must know that the path I chose was mine alone. I was foolish to step outside when you even said not to and I got lost along the way. It’s not a reflection of you or your love for me. I don’t want you to carry the weight of my choices as if they were yours to bear.

I want you to live your life without the chains of guilt holding you down. Don’t let this tragedy rob you of your future. Pursue your dreams, even in this hard life of an outlaw and embrace the adventure that awaits you because I have seen how much you enjoy doing what you do even if I was not in favour of it. Find joy in the little things, just as we did when we were young and remember that we are forever connected by the love we share as siblings.

If you find it within you, forgive yourself. I hope that one day, you can look back on our memories with a smile instead of sorrow. I’ll always be a part of you, a part that encourages you to keep going, to live fiercely and fully.

Take care of yourself, okay?

With love,

(Y/N)

Arthur’s fingers lingered over the page of the letter, the ink slightly smudged from his own tears. Each word felt like a dagger in his chest, a reminder of the weight he carried, the weight of his past actions, of his failures as your guardian. He carefully placed the letter beside the photo of you both, sitting together, a snapshot of somewhat happier times, a month after he and you arrived in camp. The Morgans, written at the bottom, as Dutch had called you both. Your eyes were not smiling, they were empty of the mischief and the liveliness which you always held. It clearly showed how unhappy you were being separated from the home you held dear to your heart. He dragged you into this life when you barely had the chance to enjoy your childhood. And he failed to see this at the time, blinded by only his promise to keep you at his side.

I’m still.... your sister.

I’m still.... your sister.

I’m still.... your sister.

That plea of yours haunts him to this very day. With a heavy heart, Arthur rose from where he sat, the sun casting long shadows over the camp. He made his way to your grave, each step a reminder of the distance between them now, a chasm he had never imagined would grow so vast.

He knelt down, pulling a few wildflowers from the ground nearby, bright yellow blooms that reminded him of your bubbly laughter. They were vibrant, like the memories he held close to his heart. As he laid them gently atop the grave, a swell of guilt washed over him, choking him with the realization that you had taken the blame upon yourself.

You had written about not wanting him to live with regret, but how could he not? The dark and violent tendencies that had seeped into his life had cast a shadow over everything, over the once innocent and wholesome relationship, filled with just laughter, jokes, care and bickering, and now they had taken you away from him. Arthur thought of the times he had let his anger consume him, the threats he’d made in fits of rage, the moments he failed to protect you in the way a brother should.

"This is on me," he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "You didn’t deserve this... none of it."

He brushed his fingers over the grave, feeling the cool earth beneath, as if trying to connect with you one last time. He wished he could tell you that he’d change, that he’d find a way to channel his fury into something constructive rather than destructive. But the truth was, that change seemed too far away, and the regret felt too real.

The flowers seemed to wilt under the weight of his sorrow, and he fought the urge to crumble right there beside you like he did every day when he visited you. Maybe, just maybe a simple word of sympathy from him that night could have prevented this, "I’m so sorry, (Y/N)," he choked out, his heart heavy with guilt. "I’m so damn sorry, m-my little Chumchum."

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the camp, but for Arthur. He stayed there, kneeling at your grave, wishing he could turn back time, wishing he could have been the brother you needed, wishing he could have saved you from the darkness that ultimately claimed your light. Even after killing and gutting alive the ones involved, from Linda to those men, nothing could calm his heart.

It might take a lifetime to heal from your death, but it would take a thousand more to forgive himself.

(AN: Did you cry? I sure did. PS. This was the first time I wrote on this topic so just wanted to say that if you know someone who is going thru smth or even if not, just be kind to others around you and value each other's presence. And if you are goin thru smth be sure to know that this life is a gift and also a test and there is always someone out there who is waiting for you and loves you with all their might, every cell in ur body works for YOU. Thanks for reading, stay hydrated and peace ‎♡‧₊˚)

[blank-house]

Hey I got kind of a controversial question but....it's one that's been bubbling up in my head for a while! I don't mean this with malice but why are we only allowed to play three events (besides the barbecue) per playthrough? I read in another ask that the intent with the game was to build a slowburn in regards to developing relationships (platonic or romantic) with the boys, so wouldn't the option to play all 5 moments contribute much more to this? We would be "forced" to play through all the moments before reaching relationship milestones in the full game (and when summer/fall releases). I've also read that this was done so the player had some type of agency but I feel like that option of choice is already delivered with how we can chose the order of the moments and the different "routes" per each moment. Or is this only a "spring-quirk" considering the short timespan (2 weeks) compared to the other seasons (3 months)? Congrats on the kickstarter, I wish well to the team!

Thanks for the well wishes!

And to answer your question— yeah I want a slow burn but I don’t want a “slow” game. At some point, the story would’ve dragged if I have you play through ALL of the events in the game.

Can you imagine? Before you can even date someone— you might have to play 20 events? Then when you’re finally at the end, you’ve played over 60?? And they all take either an hour or even two get through?? That’s more than a regular play through for a Persona game!

No no—

Time passes, things are always changing— and even if you want to, you can’t do everything you want to do in life. Especially in college, where you know when your semester ends and when you graduate.

Your time is always valuable, and how you chose to spend it at that moment will always impact what you do in your future. And I want that done in game too.

[ellecdc]

i have a small idea! (this totes bounced off that one poly!marauders pregnancy post)

sirius would absolutely find comfort laying on readers belly later on in her pregnancy animagus style🐾

I loved this! you must've read my mind; yesterday I was considering sending out a request for any pregnant!reader or dad!marauders prompts!

poly!marauders x pregnant!reader who Padfoot is obsessed with [1.4k words]

CW: fem afab!reader, pregnancy, discourse regarding shower temperatures

“Wait, so, explain to me why you can’t both just take a shower together?” Remus asked as he followed Sirius and James into the flat, the two boys having argued nearly the whole way home from the shops over who was going to get to shower first.

Sirius made a derisive scoffing sound as if Remus had asked something particularly ridiculous. 

“Remus.” He muttered like he was talking to a troublesome toddler. “My hair and skin are only as beautiful as they are because I don’t scald myself under water heated by hellfire.” 

“My showers are not that hot, Pads.” James argued, though Remus could hear the smile in his voice. 

“My gods.” Sirius breathed out. “It’s starting to affect your brain cells too.” 

James made an offended sound and swatted at Sirius. “Fine, out with you then; go take your freezing shower, but don’t come looking for me for cuddles when you can’t stop shivering.” 

“I’d sooner find Moons for warm cuddles.” Sirius responded haughtily. “Those werewolf genes keep him nice and warm.”

Remus hummed in acknowledgement. “Dove may just have me beat there soon.” 

All three boys took a moment to sigh lovingly at the thought of you; growing and stretching and likely more than a little uncomfortable but doing it so gracefully nonetheless. 

“Sirius if you’re just going to sit here with hearts in your eyes…” James started, though he didn’t need to finish his threat when Sirius turned and took off in the direction of the shower.

“You do come out of the shower a little pink, love.” Remus murmured into the side of James’ face once he knew Sirius was out of earshot. 

James scoffed but leaned into Remus’ embrace. “How does he know that hot showers aren’t how I get my hair and skin so beautiful?” 

“Fair enough.” Remus laughed before he moved to put the groceries away. “But I don’t want Y/N getting into any showers with you; we don’t want her blood pressure rising.” 

James hummed in agreement. “But you may have to tell her that; her showers are equally steamy.” 

“Okay,” Remus agreed, “family meeting tonight about appropriate shower temperatures.” 

The two worked through the kitchen in relative silence before James slowed in his movements; dark brows furrowing behind his wire frames. “Speaking of showers, I don’t hear one running.” 

“Did he seriously fight you for dibs over the shower and then not get into the shower?” Remus laughed, causing James to stalk down the hall muttering something under his breath along the lines of “stupid no good sodding handsome boyfriend, going to be the death of me”. 

Remus waited for the inevitable yelp when James startled Sirius from behind, digging his fingers into his ribs in punishment.

He waited for the two of them to start trading insults - far louder than necessary - that quickly divulged into heated kisses where they pressed each other up against various solid surfaces.

Except no yelps, no tickles, no insults, and no passion could be heard.

In fact, it was quiet…too quiet. 

“Is there some weird portal in the flat that my partners keep disappearing through or something?” Remus called as he moved in the direction of the bedroom. “And where’s dovey?” 

But the answer only came when Remus rounded the corner into their bedroom - nearly colliding with James who had paused just inside the doorway - to find you asleep, curled up on your side in bed with a placid looking Padfoot curled up behind you and his head resting on your waist; your ever growing bump (that you’ve insisted cannot possibly grow anymore) dutifully under his chin.

Remus made an affectionate tsking sound as he took in the sight. “Did you get distracted, Pads?” And the dog’s tail began thumping loudly against the bed, though Remus could tell Padfoot was working very hard to not move his body in any other way lest he disturb you. 

The three of you always joked that whatever Sacred 28 gene allowed Pureblood's to appear impassive, bored, and to expertly save face was absent in Sirius, who never bothered hiding a single one of his emotions; the way he was feeling always displayed loudly and proudly on his face, though he claimed that was by choice rather than design.

But for as expressive or closed off as Sirius could or couldn’t be, Padfoot didn’t have a poker face to save his life.  

An almost embarrassing coo left James’ lips as he made his way to the bed, kneeling carefully on the edge of the bed so as to not disturb you, before reaching over to place a hand on your bump.

Padfoot, for his part, snapped his jaw playfully at James, pretending to bite his wrist only to then lick his arm aggressively when James diverted his loving caress to the top of his head instead. 

“She’s been so tired lately.” James murmured to no one in particular once Padfoot seemed appeased and he moved his hand to push some hair back from your forehead. 

“You try building an entire new person from scratch.” Remus chuckled quietly, moving to stand behind James but pausing when Padfoot’s head shot up.

The canine stared down at your midsection with his ears standing straight up in the air before tilting his head comically at a nearly 90 degree angle.

James laughed, making a breathy ‘wha-’ sound when Padfoot’s head snapped in the other direction, snout still pointed dutifully at your stomach. 

The dog let out a quiet whimper and pressed his wet nose into your side, causing James to laugh and Remus to tsk chidingly at him for risking waking you up.

“Is he kicking, Pads?” James asked then, moving his hand to the now damp spot on your shirt from where Padfoot poked you so rudely as the dog’s tail thumped excitedly on the bed. 

“Please.” Remus scoffed playfully as he reached forward to place his hand next to James’. “Don’t you mean she?”

“They” you corrected suddenly - though your eyes remained closed - as your boyfriends (two human and one currently canine) hovered around your midsection “are lucky they’re so loved when they’re currently using my ribs as a kick drum.” Your breath hitching in time with James and Remus’ hands feeling a strong thump and Padfoot’s head tilting the other direction. 

“Awe, I’m sorry, angel.” James cooed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You should be.” You grumbled, though Remus could see the faint upturn in the corner of your lips. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” James shrilled. 

You hummed in agreement. “They were very well behaved before you showed up.”

“How do you know it’s not Moony’s fault?”

You cracked one eye open to look at Remus who simply winked at you. 

“Just do.” 

“Pads?” James tried then.

“If it was Sirius, I would say the chances were equal.” You admitted as you settled back into the pillow. “But baby is well behaved for Padfoot.” 

“Well…” James started, looking helplessly between his partners. “Well this is just not fair.”

You let out a groan and shoved your face into the pillow at the interruption of your nap when Remus finally took pity on you.

“Wasn’t someone supposed to be showering?” 

James looked over at Padfoot who simply stared back at him before letting out a long sigh and resting his head back down on your belly. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Looks like there’s been a change of plans, Jamie.” Remus translated. 

“Fine.” James grumbled, though Remus could tell his ire was only for show. “Do you wanna join me, Moons?” 

“I showered this morning.” Remus declined as he took James’ spot next to you on the bed.

“I’ll shower with you, Jamie.” You offered as you went to rise, pausing when all three boys protested. 

Well, James and Remus protested. Padfoot let out a bark. 

“You should rest, angel.”

“Leave Jamie to his hellfire showers.” Remus agreed. “I’ll run you a bath after dinner, how does that sound?” 

Apparently that sounded lovely, because you easily fell back into your pillows with a smile on your face, a dog resting its head on your stomach, and Remus rubbing his thumb lovingly against your temple.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Maybe Girl: Colton Shaw x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @inlovewithcharmers @mckinleysbones @rex-the-dino @ahoodgirl

Companion piece to:

Stay (NSFW) - Colter can never ask for you to stay.

Sometimes Colter dreams about you. His hands running through your hair, his lips chasing all over your skin as your head tips back and you say his name. Those are the mornings he wakes up with a hard on he has to take care of in the shower because those dreams, they’re memories, ones that are scored upon the surface of his heart. He jerks off to the image of your mouth encircling him, that sinful look in your eyes when you know he’s close, so close he’s about to…

There’s the other dreams, of course, the ones he would never reveal to a living soul. A white dress and a cabin in the woods, a couple of dogs. You’re both too fucked up for a traditional relationship and children aren’t on the cards but it doesn’t stop Colter from hoping that maybe one day you’ll both settle down together. He can’t see it happening anytime soon but eventually, when you both get your shit together.

“I’m your Maybe Girl…” You had said one night when you were laying on your stomach in his bed. He was doodling patterns across your skin, connecting the constellations of scars when you’d finally spoke.

“Maybe Girl?” He’d questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he tilted his head to read your features.

“You know…” You say, meeting his eyes. “The one you tell yourself you may have a future with so you can avoid any other commitments.”

“That’s not…” He trails off, pursing his lips together when you give him that knowing look. “I don’t think of it as a maybe.”

For Colter it’s an inevitability. He’s been in love with you for years at this point and he’s confident you’re in love with him. It’s why you tell him your secrets by the light of the campfire, the things you’ve never told anybody else

“Oh.” You say, looking troubled. “Colter, I can’t give you anything more than this…”

“I know.” He’d whispered, his thumb tracing lightly over the apple of your cheek. “But maybe someday you can.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, he knows that now. Sometimes he gets so caught up in you he can’t help but express his feelings but you, you’re like a skittish animal. You need to be approached carefully, with caution because for you commitment is entrapment.

It’s marrying a man your father chooses for you at the age of fifteen, one three times your age and an elder of the cult he joined because your mother died and he can’t cope with his teenage daughter. It’s hunting in the woods for survival to feed children that aren’t your own, ones that you can never have because that first time was so violent that  it ruined you.

You don’t even bother to slip out when he’s asleep that night. You just get up, gather up your clothes and go.

He doesn’t follow because he understands that urge to escape, especially when you feel overwhelmed. That’s why his father called him The Restless One.

When you appear outside his airstream tonight he doesn’t expect it. It’s been six months since he last laid eyes on you and he’s parked in the middle of nowhere, waiting for the next reward to come through.

“I can’t be your Maybe Girl,” is the first thing you say to him, the rain pouring down as you stand outside, soaking wet.

“How about you be the girl that comes in to get dry?” He suggests as he steps out of the way revealing the warm glow of the airstream. “The girl I make tea for because there’s a chill in the air and I’m terrified of her catching hypothermia.”

You step inside, leaving a trail of wet clothes that leads directly to his shower. He sighs as he picks them up, hanging them up to dry over the cupboard doors in the kitchen before he goes through his slender wardrobe and picks out the shirt you like to wear. It’s a soft faded grey, one he’s had since long before he bought airstream. The only reason he hasn’t thrown it out yet is because he knows how much you like it.

“Are you going to join me?” You call from the bathroom and he envisions you naked underneath the water, the droplets trailing over your skin. He lays the t-shirt down on the bed and he wonders if you’ll stay tonight or if he’ll find that it neatly folded on the table were he eats as if it had never been worn.

“Yea.” He calls through, pulling off his own shirt and tossing it in the hamper. “Just give me a sec and I’ll be right there.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[puppetwoman17]

Billy in the Watchmen AU (spoilers for Watchmen Chapter 1)

For anyone who already knows who the Watchmen are and avidly read and generally consume the media, this is a post from a newbie, so don’t expect any nuance, lol. I’ve only watched the recent animated movie. Also be forewarned that this does mean the timeline is way more recent. This takes place in at least the 2010s, not the 80s like in canon.

If you don’t know who the Watchmen are, they are a group of “heroes” from an alternate dc universe where it’s the 80s and superheroes are outlawed. There’s also a group called the Minute Men who were there before them, who were all either taken out or had their lives wrecked.

The second Nite Owl got the permission of the first to dawn the name and costume. The second Silk Spectre is the daughter of the first. The Comedian was part of the Minute Men along with the first Nite Owl and Silk Spectre, and he is known to be part of the Watchmen. There’s also Rorschach, who’s like a darker version of Question. Dr. Manhattan is like if Martian Manhunter didn’t feel emotion and also cannot shape shift, but his power set is still extensive. Ozymandias is apparently a hero turned villain, and I already see that playing out a bit in the animated movie—

Holy shit he kills people. So many people. He has a warped sense of justice and he kills a whole bunch of people under the guise of an alien invasion just to unite the population. Yeah, now I get it. Anyway before he was a member, and after retiring he has this huge company called Veidt, where he sells toys and stuff.

Whole lotta other stuff to say about the Minute Men and Watchmen, but I’m sure you get the jist.

SO, with all that out of the way. TIME BUBBLE, people. Maybe it pops sometimes, maybe the bubble isn’t a bubble but it stops the aging process until it pops, idk. But Billy joins the Watchmen and goes through all the tough shit they go through, like Dr. Manhattan not understanding human emotion so he watches The Conedian kill a woman pregnant with his child.(I know, but I’m too lazy to explain every single detail lol).

He’s in the background while everyone starts hating their team and watches the Comedian wreck their whole image. Keep in mind that he’s not in his Cap form for his stint as a member because it’s way too flashy. He’s like their tech guy, but the tech is actually magic.

After the law against supers, Billy hightails it for Fawcett and leaves a note for the Watchmen who he actually like(everyone but the Comedian, fuck you Edward Blake). When Superman comes into the scene, he brings a new vision with him, and new and old heroes are able to come into the limelight. However, with three members working for the government (Manhattan, Comedian, and Silk Spectre 2), one on the run(Rorschach), one staying away,(Nite Owl 2), and one going into mass producing himself (Veidt)…Yeah, they think better of that.

A decade goes by and Billy’s(looking like) an eighteen year old living it up with his JL pals. Meanwhile, a retired army veteran, Edward Blake, has just been murdered. He doesn’t have the best thoughts on the US military, so he doesn’t pay much mind. That is until Amanda Waller kidnaps and takes him to a remote facility and decides to info dump that yes, she knows who he is, and yes, she knows he used to work with/for the Watchmen. Also, Edward Blake is the Comedian, surprise.

Yeah, Billy gets the hell out of there as soon as possible. Waller says she wants his help bringing in the members who aren’t on government watch, but he’s firm with his refusal, and she can’t just keep Captain Marvel locked up without facing the wrath of the Justice League and Squadron of Justice.

A couple days later, the JL are in Fawcett and planning to go to one of those magic infused restaurants with performances and everything, but Billy has to make a pit stop at his apartment. They’re cool with it and go with him, and guess who’s sitting in the dining room inhaling canned beans?

Iiiiits Rorschach!

Billy is FREAKING out because the Watchmen can’t be seen together! He rushes the JL out as quick as possible and says he’s “so sorry, but something’s come up, I can’t go. Just tell the front desk fawn that I sent you and she’ll know.”

Naturally, Diana is the first to say that she is not leaving him alone with someone who BROKE INTO HIS HOME. Billy waves her off and says that “it’s totally cool! This happens all the time in Fawcett!” before slamming the door closed.

Billy: what the hell were you thinking?

Rorschach: Im here for good reason, B.

Billy: Save it, I know about the Comedian and Blake.

Rorschach: You don’t think this is a one and done thing, do you? Someone’s clearly gunning for masks, and for some reason, they started with one of us! Why not those new flashy heroes you hang with? Superman? Batman? Wonder Woman? Why one of us?

Billy: In case you forgot, we operated during the Cold War. We made enemies. And even without that, Blake was a military man who enjoyed making people suffer. If he had no enemies, I call bullshit!

Rorschach: I’m still determined to make sure this doesn’t happen to the rest of us. I’m going to everyone’s homes, and—

Billy: Okay, now you’ve blocked me. No one is going to listen. Daniel(Nite Owl) has moved on. Laurel hates the guy and Jon(Dr. Manhattan) does whatever Laurel(Silk Spectre) wants. Adrian(Ozymandius) is perfectly happy with his company. And I swear, if you bring any of the Minute Men into this…

Rorschach: I have to try. Even if they don’t believe me, I have to get it into their heads somehow. The Minute Men went through the exact same thing.

Billy: no offense, but your wording does not get across to people as “caring.” You’ll just as soon make them throw you out.

Rorschach: Agreed. So, I’ll need to bring along someone who’s better at that than I am.

Billy:

Rorschach:

Billy: Damn it.

Cue the cancel out duo of Billy and Rorschach going to the home of the former second Nite Owl and freaking him the hell out. Daniel and Billy reminisce about the old days while Rorschach gets across his point. Daniel naturally thinks it’s a flimsy take, and Billy says he gets it, but being a little more careful never hurt anyone, right?

They also talk about Blake. Dan says he’s thinking of going to the funeral, but he also has mixed feelings. Billy says he isn’t going. After what happened with Sally Jupiter(the first Silk Spectre, and Laurel’s mom), he can’t look at any pictures of him the same way.

They leave, next going to Veidt Inc.

Predictably, it does the same way. Except this time, Billy is able to glean that something is off about Adrian. He can’t put his finger on it, but he tells Rorschach to leave as soon as possible.

Laurel and Jon are a little less angry(they have good reason tho) because billy is there. Laurel’s so happy to see him! Jon on the other hand doesn’t know what to do.

They used to be close. Billy was used to speaking to higher beings who didn’t understand the concept of human morality and the like. Jon’s a little different, because gods are able to feel, but it’s as close as it can get. Billy stood up for him on multiple occasions, except when Jon cheated on his gf with Laurel, that got him a two month no-talking period until it didn’t seem right to do so and he got to know Laurel.

Then the island stuff happened. The Comedian may be an asshole, but he doesn’t lie. Jon just stood there while that woman bled out. Billy just…couldn’t look at him the same anymore.

Unlike in the movie, where Rorschach says something stupid and Laurel tells Jon to make him leave, Billy stops Rorschach from making that idiotic mistake and says that they don’t have to hide themselves or actively look for danger. It’s just important that they generally keep themselves safe by any means that they want to. They readily agree because wow, boundaries!

Meanwhile, Bruce and his gaggle of detectives found out who that weird guy sitting at Billy’s dining table is. A member of a team that hasn’t been talked about in decades. Of course, there are no articles or pictures involving the Watchmen interacting with a kid with magic. So, they naturally want answers from HIM. Billy is tight-lipped when they see him, and is somewhere else in his free time(with Rorschach).

Unfortunately, that’s when shit really takes a turn. A former villain that Rorschach and Billy spoke to tells them that the Comedian, without a mask, was in his bedroom weeks before he died! Spouting nonsense about Dr. Manhattan, an island, a list, people who were apparently worse than him, so much worse that he started begging to be forgiven.

Dr. Manhattan goes on live television for the first time in decades. This is the first time the JL has ever seen him. Billy’s watching it carefully with Rorschach and just about has a heart attack when some reporter gets up and tells him that several people who he used to know have contracted forms of cancer. At least a dozen. There’s a list.

A list. Oh shit!

Jon cries out in anger and disappears, rushing who knows where(Mars).

Meanwhile, Adrian kills someone. At least, it looks like he did. The other guy attacked him and his assistant, and was biting his tongue to keep from saying anything. Adrian puts his hand in his mouth to stop him, but he’s too late. He’s been framed for murder.

With all of this happening, Rorschach gets a message from Moloch saying that they need to talk. Cool, have fun. Billy’s at the Watchtower and he’s swiftly avoiding the topic of that weird guy in his apartment.

Two seconds later, Rorschach is on the news. He’s been caught. His mask is off. Billy is screaming internally.

That is the exact moment when he turns to the JL.

“…I need your help breaking someone out of prison. And presumably stopping a mass killing. And that mass killing kind if sort of includes me.”

Yeah, they’re gonna need more info. Like hold up, you were in a team before us😠?

Anyway that’s where the brain rot ends until the second movie. Jeez this was a lot.

[lostintransist]

Liaison | Part 5 | Big Austrian Bastard

Check out part 1 here. Check out the rest of the story on AO3, up to chapter 33 over there.

After you won the bet with Ghost you became something of a tourist attraction. Every man who moved through the office would stop by your desk. Often you were on a phone but many would wait for a chance to ask how you won the bet with Ghost or if you had any dating advice. When Roach finally appeared back in the office after a month you asked him about it.

“Why does it feel like my desk is the hottest place to be in the office? Don’t these guys have paperwork to be doing?”

Roach replies, the clack of his keys not even faded before the message hits your screen.

>No one deals with Ghost like you do. Word has gotten around that you two fight and he loses more often than he wins.

“I can’t say that I think he has won once.”

>Exactly, plus everyone wants to witness another showdown. Anyone who wasn’t at the bar when you took that hot redhead home has heard the story about a dozen times from someone who has. Plus all the bets on what crazy nonsense you two will fight about next. And I know at least some of the guys want to know how you got such a bombshell to go home with you.

It takes three reads over the message before you are semi-confident that you understood everything.

“How much money is in these betting pools?” You rub a single finger against the headache forming behind your forehead.

>Would say a several thousand at this point.

“And what exactly was the defining moment that everyone decided to start taking bets?” You have a sneaking suspicion you know what it was.

>The lap dancer.

“Yeah,” you suck your teeth, “I thought that might have been it. Now for the record Roach and you tell this to anyone who will listen; I didn’t know he had already booked her. It’s not my fault she chose my pretty face over his ugly mask. And if he could string two sentences together to a woman that didn’t leave her wanting to slap him he wouldn’t have to pay for company in or out of his bed.”

>Behind you.

“Thanks, Roach,” you deadpan, “What a great job saving the day.”

Spinning around you see Ghost standing at the edge of your desk.

“You know I think you would pay for male company as well, I’m not really one to judge.”

Without a word, he drops several files on your desk and turns on his heel leaving you and Roach with more questions than before. Not picking a fight over your words felt outside of Ghost’s character. You tuck the information away for later. No one had died recently and there were no issues with any other companies or governments. No obvious reasons surfaced as to his dour mood.

Your phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number.

>Can you make gingersnaps?

<Yes. Fresh ginger okay?

>👍

<Should have a dozen ready by 3.

Shoving your phone in your pocket you unplug your computer. You’ve figured out how to read emails while creaming butter by hand. Emails consumed you as grated ginger and sifted flour into your wet ingredients. Once the dough had started chilling you got a call. It took twenty minutes to look up the temperature conversion to turn on the oven since the other party had some extremely specific requests and questions that had you searching skills and cross-referencing times when certain guys would be free.

“Okay, for the final time, the timeline you need this job completed on will not allow for me to get Price and Reb on the same job. I have a different sniper who can complete the task or I can have a different lead but they are not available at the same time,” You wave at Harold as he leads a beast of a man down the hall. “At this point, you can trust me to schedule a team who can handle the task or I can send you the contact info for my counterpart at KorTac.”

You rattled off the number for KorTac as the cookies came out of the oven. Disconnecting the call you stretched your arms high and set about moving the cookies to the rack to cool down. In the five minutes they take to cool you reply to seven emails. God, you needed to talk to Kate about an assistant. The number of emails was becoming untenable. Storing the cookies in a dish you hide in your cabinet you take a quick picture of the completed request.

Cleaning up from baking had become its own soothing ritual. Once you have everything set out to dry you head back down the hall. You forget to send the text message since an email reply comes into a proposal you had just sent off.

“If those motherfuckers want to change up the date again…“ you mumble to yourself.

You kick something as you approach your desk. The beast of a man Harold had walked back to the desks is reclined in your chair and snoring. You can’t tell past the sniper’s hood draped across his head if he is asleep. Looking around you find the bay of computers empty. With a sigh, you set your computer awkwardly on the desk and remember your message about the cookies.

Sending the message a phone ding sounds before you. The man rouses, pulls a phone from his pocket, checks the message, and startles when he sees you standing at his feet.

“You the one who wanted the gingersnaps?” You ask carefully. One man in a mask you know could almost be considered a friend, the other firmly a foe.

“Ja.” He stands, towering over your frame.

Blowing a breath out your nose you make a decision. Better to have fewer foes if possible.

“Follow me, I’ll show you where I put your cookies.”

The only sound following you is the rare swish of fabric. Stepping into the kitchen you open the cabinet that held your cookies. Pulling them down you place them in his waiting hands. More men covering up like the devil would worm his way in through any flash of flesh. This man wore gloves too.

“Ah! Liaison you found the big Austrian bastard! We’ve been all over the office looking for him.”

If you hadn’t been standing so close to him you would have missed the flinch in the big man. Something about someone so strong-looking taking pain from words wormed into your heart.

“Tactic I swear to god if you don’t think before you speak.” You snap at him. “Obviously this man is on loan to the 141 and you know what we don’t do to people who are here to help us? We don’t insult them. It makes my job to fucking hard when you can’t keep your jackass statements inside.”

Tactic’s mouth shut with a click.

“Anything else clever to say?” you push.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to my friend here.”

“Sorry König.”

Spence, who had been standing behind Tactic, fled the moment your tone turned angry.

“Now unless you have a hard leave time I am going to sit down and enjoy some cookies with Konig and will deliver him to a conference room when we are done. Got a problem with that?” You aggressively lifted a brow at Tactic.

He backed out of the kitchen slowly.

“Whatever you say Liaison, sorry again König.”

With a huff, you turned back around and smiled up at the big man.

“Do you want to sit down and enjoy your cookies? I appreciate any feedback you can give.”

He looked you over, neither his expression nor his body language giving away his thoughts. König sits at one table, pushing out another chair with the toe of his boot. Settling in you wait to see what he does next. You fold your arms and rest them on the table.

“We friends?”

You find him watching you with guarded eyes.

“Do you want to be friends?”

“Ja. Name is König, not Konig.”

You repeat his name a few times to solidify the pronunciation in your brain.

“Okay, well you’re my first friend here so I will now text you random updates on my life. Feel free to do the same.”

Sitting in silence you tap out random beats on your fingers as König lifts his cowl to eat his treat.

“Da cookies are good.”

You send him a bright smile. “I’m glad you like them. Whenever you are ready I can deliver you to the conference room.”

He nods once before closing the container of cookies. He stands and slides the whole box into a side pocket on his pants. There isn’t even a bulge against the fabric. You can’t prevent a sneer at the now offensive pants.

The tension rises in König, you can feel it wafting off him in waves.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the patriarchy that doesn’t give me pockets I can hide cookies in without getting caught,” you fold your arms and puff air into your cheeks.

The booming laughter from König brings a smile to your face. It sounded rusty as if he didn’t get a chance to use it often.

Part 4

Masterlist @nicroyal02