#time to get rid of it and never look back

[toxycodone]

mouthwashing characters and their icks

ship. tulpar crew x reader

content. sfwish, just annoying things about our faves, some are romantic and some are general.

Captain Curly

Wildly empathetic. Like to a point where it’s annoying. Like yes, you get it. It’s sad to see an animal on the side of the road. But this is the second dog this week and it’s bit him twice. (He also falls for like. Fake homeless scams. Omg.)

I think he had an era where he had a cat that fucking hated him and never ever left under the guest room bed and terrorized his guests but he didn’t have the heart to get rid of it. 💀

He always ends up playing devil’s advocate without trying. Like when you’re complaining about someone at work or some bitch who cut you off in traffic, Curly’s like “maybe they had a bad day!” or something.

He just…never lets you just wallow in your misery when you need to. When he starts with his “look on the bright side!” stuff it makes your eyes roll back into your skull.

Is soooooo fucking conflict avoidant he’d rather just take shit on the chin then ever speak his mind about things with you. It gets so bad bc he’s bottling all this crap up and getting kinda catty. Because he won’t just grow up and tell you what his problem is.

Comes home in his dirty ass shoes and tracks mud all over the house. I mean he’ll swiffer it up like the housewife he is but it’s annoying.

Doesn’t clean his hands before touching your phone (or his own) before eating,. U get a greasy screen.

Jimmy is an asshole to you and Curly just goes “now now, Jim…” It won’t be until Jimmy does something like. Really bad. That Curly decides to put his foot down and enforce boundaries with that man. You witness this dude literally use your man as a doormat way too often.

If you make him choose. He would probably choose Jim unless push really came to shove…..

GIRLS FLIRT WITH HIM IN PUBLIC AND HES TOO ‘AWKWARD’ TO SAY “I’m taken…” so he just flaunts in the attention. In reality he just…likes the attention but doesn’t want to admit it to himself. (He’s loyal don’t get me wrong but this is annoying)

Thinks big romantic public gestures are cute. Whether that is an ick or not is up to you.

Jimmy

GOES THROUGH YOUR PHONE WHEN YOU’RE ASLEEP OR IN THE BATHROOM. And when you catch him he’s doesn’t even bother to make a good excuses “just wanted to check something.” Okay??? What?? If you go through his phone he will legit tackle you for it back (he isn’t even cheating he’s just pathetically bitchless and friendless. His last text was to his dealer and bro didn’t even respond.)

Will leave your important messages on read. It’s like he has read receipts on just to spite you.

Aggressively questions you out of the blue on who you know and hang out with as if it isn’t the same fucking people each time.

Really horny when he’s drunk and tries to seduce you but has terrible whiskey dick.

Terrible morning breath. Rank. Disgusting. Also all his clothes have the faint scent of stale cigarette smoke. Along with his carpet. And furniture. His walls are probably off-white too.

World’s dirtiest bathroom it’s literally so gross. He leaves his stubble in/around the sink after shaving with an electric razor real fast before work.

Has probably kissed you and then asked you what you last ate with a grimace 💔

Your friends hate him. Your family hates him. Your landlord hates him. And he hates them back.

You’ve had to bail him out of jail before. The officer on duty just gives you a pitied look when he sees you walk in and say you’re bailing him of all people out.

Pretty sure he has threatened to kill himself if you leave him multiple times but lashes out at you when you’re sweet to him at the most random times.

Anya

Stealing this from @l1v1ngd3dgrrl but Anya has the DUMBEST. LAUGH. Like she has a cutesy laugh until she’s finally not thinking and she laugh so hard she snorts. So loud.

Refuses to file down her nails so she accidentally scratches you all the time.

Definitely has an ex she’s still friends with that makes you lowkey question what is going on between them bc they’re obviously still into her and she doesn’t see it.

She silently judges and you can see it on her face when she has something to say but then she goes “it’s nothing!!!” And refuses to say it. (However, this does make her the best gossiper and she can be a total mean girl and tear apart bitches you hate on secret.)

Lowkey tries to psychoanalyze you when you’re venting to her like girl. I am not your homework.

Thinks it’s her responsibility to “fix you” for some reason. Takes you being depressed, angry, etc a little too personally.

Never watches the movies or shows you recommend you have sit her down and watch it w her. And she will. Be distracted by stuff on her phone.

Avid Mitski fan. And Nora Jones. Just an air of sad girl and longing to her that goes soooo crazy.

Big fan of ugly sweaters and tacky matching outfits….but has the audacity to make comments on your style.

Daisuke

“This one’s for you!” *Misses*. In public. In front of your friends. Need I say more.

Uses your hair products in the shower and your soap and your nice shaving oil without asking. :/

This is moreso in the beginning of the relationship but. I see this persisting that he’s constantly looking to you for approval for things. Has a really difficult time making decisions on his own, too. He’s looking to you for guidance on stuff,

Unironically thinks Dutch ovening you is funny.

Your friends all think he’s mid and although he’s sweet. You’re way outta his league. You’re dating down.

Has more skin care products than he can ever use. He’s a total product junkie.

GACHA GAME WHALE. Has definitely borrowed money for a ten pull in genshin 💔

Has cried out of frustration over Fortnite before (he was in a bad place. Okay.)

Cannot keep a job for the life of him. The only solid career he lands is like. Bobarista. But goddamn he’s good at it.

Has. Forgotten your anniversary/birthday/etc. before. and probably almost threw up out of guilt.

Swansea

Does the dad cold start every morning. Hacking. Coughing. Spitting up in the sink. It’s gross.

When he takes a shit he’s stuck in the bathroom for like half an hour at least. It’s always oddly humid and gross if you go in after him.

Chews with his mouth open.

Walks around shirtless only in underwear and will proudly fart whenever he needs to and it’s loud as fuck.

His kids lowkey hate him tbh. 💀 they have a better relationship as adults but man. Rocky fucking childhood.

Nothing ever really makes him satisfied or truly happy so you’re stuck in this weird limbo on if he actually gives a shit about you or not.

Rolls his eyes at you. When you can plainly sees he has suuuuch an attitude problem it’s crazy.

Definitely has asked for a manager in your presence over something minuscule (you wanted to die)

[mochiwonz]

─── LOVE ME HARDER ୨୧

PAIRING. fem!reader x bf!park sunghoon CONTENT. smut , petnames , p in v , unprotected sex (don't do it !!) , cursing , grinding , skinship (duh ;3) , slight breast and nipple play , big dick hoon agenda , some dirty talk , fluff , hoon is so sweet and compliant </3 NOTE. i'm back :3 and this is my new years gift for u all, enjoy !!

you and sunghoon loved being close to one another. your guy's favorite was simply cuddling, it just felt so intimate, so raw. well, it really was the most intimate you and sunghoon had ever gotten— if you don't consider make-out sessions.

it's not that you didn't want to have sex with him, of course you did. you just weren't sure how to approach it, how you'd express the want to get fucked by him. and yeah, you'd thought about it before. you'd thought about how he'd ruin you, how his abs would flex while he'd thrust into you, god— you needed him so bad.

and unbeknownst to you, sunghoon felt the exact same, if not worse. he ached for you, to be inside of you. he dreamt about how your pussy would feel around him. wet, tight and warm, all for him. he'd been suppressing his need to fuck for awhile, and it'd just got to a point where he couldn't suppress it any longer. first, he tried jerking off with your panties— and it worked... for two days. then, he tried using a fleshlight. that also didn't work. he thought he was doomed, he didn't want to force himself on you. sunghoon was just unsure if you wanted him like that, yet.

tonight was like any other night, you two came home from work, ate dinner, got ready for bed, and found your way into each other's embrace. in the form of cuddling, of course.

you were wearing your favorite silk pajamas tonight. a long sleeve top and tiny shorts, slightly see-through. sunghoon tried his best to keep himself from ogling at you, you looked so fucking sexy. thankfully, he did a good job because you definitely didn't notice.

"you smell so good, my love" sunghoon says sweetly while nuzzling his face into your hair.

"thank you hoonie, used the conditioner and shampoo set you bought me" you tell him while shifting your body to find a comfortable position.

unfortunately for sunghoon, this caused your ass to rub against his crotch, and fuck. it felt good.

you suddenly felt a firm grip around your waist, pulling you closer.

"hoon what are y-" he's quick to cut you off, pressing his erection against your plump ass.

you gasp at the feeling, and so does sunghoon.

"fuck, this okay, yeah?" he asks in a breathy whisper, already lost in the feeling.

you mumble a "yes" in response. the way his clothed dick was pressed against your clothed ass felt way too good.

immediately, he starts roughly grinding his erection on your ass, too needy to hold himself back any longer.

"feels so good hoon" you manage to say while pushing your ass against him, increasing the pleasure.

this makes sunghoon let out a guttural groan. he swiftly flips you over so that he's on top of you. sunghoon quickly gets rid of his black tank top and his large but pretty hands find their way to your breasts— cupping them.

you whimpered in pleasure. wasting no time, you quickly wrapped your arms around and pulled him into a wet and sloppy kiss. you weren't thinking, you were just doing.

sunghoon then pulls away, abruptly. before you knew it, he had rolled up your top to expose your breasts, and was toying with your hardened nipples with his mouth. you'd never experienced such insane pleasure, you were truly losing it— in a good way, of course.

sunghoon didn't realize how much of a daze he was in. he loved how pretty and perky your breasts were. how pretty your light brown nipples were.

"m' hoon, need more, need you in me" you moan out while desperately grinding your hips harder against his.

he couldn't deny you of what you wanted.

in one swift motion, sunghoon pulls your top over your head and rids of your little pajama shorts.

"look at you baby, so pretty. didn't even wear any underwear under your little jammies" he says while leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses from your neckline to your tummy— all you could do was just moan in response.

you've grown quite needy at this point, and so you quickly sit up and tug down his grey sweats to reveal his hardened cock hidden beneath his calvin klein boxers.

sunghoon is caught off guard by your actions, but he loves it. he loves that you're just as needy for him as he is for you.

you bring your palm up to his clothed dick, causing sunghoon's hips to buck up into your hand involuntarily.

"shit princess" you hear him say in a breathy moan.

and before you could even blink, sunghoon tugs down his boxers and kicks them away, leaving you both bare. he looked unreal. his muscles and erect cock all on display, just for you, was really doing something to you.

"gonna prep you, yeah?" he looks at you with a sweet and loving gaze, admiring your pretty self.

you just nod eagerly, you couldn't form an actual response. you were just thinking of how well he'd fill you up. his cock was atleast 6 1/2 inches and was a pretty shade of pink, fitting for sunghoon.

sunghoon bends down and brings his hand to your cunt and spreads your glistening folds. you moan, again. god, sunghoon could cum from just pleasuring you.

wasting no time, he plunges two fingers into your hole— easily sliding them in due to how wet you are.

"so wet for me baby, shit. gonna fuck you so good princess" he feels you clench around his fingers at his dirty words.

"hoon, please" you whine. you needed him in you, now.

he didn't need to hear anything else. he quickly took his fingers out of your sopping cunt. the way they were glistening with your wetness got him even harder. without any thought, he brought his fingers to your mouth and you immediately started sucking on them.

fuck, you were absolutely perfect.

and thank god you'd been drinking pineapple juice for the past few days.

sunghoon brings his other hand to his cock and pumps it a few times. you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. you just always want him closer, even if you're already close enough.

he rubs the tip of his cock along your wet core, causing you both to gasp in pleasure. and next thing you know, he's lifting your hips up to align his cock with your entrance.

you're so eager to be fucked by him, too eager. so eager that you bring your hips closer to his so that his cock finally slides into of you.

"so tight for me baby, shitt" he says in a breathy moan. the way your warm walls were so perfectly sucking him in was causing him to lose all of his sanity.

he was so big. the way he filled you up was more than you could've ever dreamt of. you felt like you were having an out-of-body experience, right now.

what started off as slow thrusts then turned into rapid thrusts— at an animalistic pace. sunghoon was really losing it. you both were, honestly. the way his balls slapped against your ass cheeks every time he thrusted into you was making you see stars.

"so good for me, such a nice pussy, baby fuckk" he wraps his muscular arms around your torso and pulls you up, closer to him. this new position causes his dick to reach even deeper and you swear you're on cloud 9.

you're quick to bring your faces closer together and connect your guy's lips in a very wet and sloppy kiss.

you could already feel the knot in your stomach. with the way sunghoon was fucking you, you'd be cumming anytime now.

sunghoon could tell that, too— by your body language and the way you were moaning and screaming his name.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck hoonie faster !" you scream, desperately.

sunghoon compliantly starts thrusting into you at an even quicker pace, if that was even humanly possible.

"your little cunt was made for me, all for me, shit" he grunts and brings one of his hands to your breast to squeeze it.

"been dreaming of fucking you for so long, princess, pussy so good— so good f' me" you clench around his cock and let out a loud moan. the way he was talking so dirty really did something to you.

you were so close to cumming, so close. and as if he knew exactly how you were feeling, sunghoon brought his thumb to your clit and started ramming into you even deeper than before.

"ngh ! hoonie, gonna, fuck— cum, gonna cum !" you bring your hands to his hair and pull him even closer, so that he's almost laying on top of you.

"yeah? gonna cum for me baby? cum on my cock, fuckk"

and that you do.

once your orgasm hits, he thrusts into you even faster— making you see stars.

"shit princess, clenching me so fucking tight, gonna fill you up with my cum, shit—"

he quickly slung your legs over his shoulders as he continued to ram into you and fill your pretty little cunt with his load.

"you okay, pretty?" sunghoon asked, wanting to make sure you were okay.

after all, he did just fuck you like a dog.

"'m okay hoonie" you replied weakly, your throat hurting from all the screaming.

"let's clean you up, yeah?" sunghoon carefully wrapped his arms around your waist and planted a kiss on your cheek.

afterwards, he quickly got up to go to the bathroom to go get a warm towel.

the rest of the night was filled with lots of love— cuddling and many kisses.

please like, reblog, and comment if u enjoyed :3 u can find my other works here !

© mochiwonz ― all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[moody-alcoholic]

CW: Death, funeral, angst.

___

It’s not easy. 

Christ why did he think it would be easy.

The room is mainly empty, only a few close friends and family. There’s no coffin, just flowers, lilies and forget-me-nots, some of your favourites. There’s a priest reading words that Simon’s not listening to, there's hushed sniffles and silent tears.

It was what you wanted, something small, simple, quiet. A stark difference from the way you really left the world. 

Johnny reaches over and takes his hand, Simon lets him lacing their fingers together. They exchange a glance, Johnny’s face is puffy from all the tears he’s shed for you. Simon has to keep it together, at least here. You made him promise not to cry for you, to be there for the team, especially Johnny. 

Simon squeezes his hand and Johnny turns away, his head focusing on his feet as the priest finishes up. Kyle is sat next to him and John is on the end, their hands resting on their knees, heads dipped, jaws clenched. 

No one gets to mourn now, they’ll all do it later in the privacy of their own homes. After this they will go to the pub, raise a glass for you. Talk about their favourite memories, smiling and laughing. That’s what you would have wanted. 

It’s not easy. 

Music plays and Simon looks up to see the priest going over to your weeping mother, arms wrapped around her by your sister and friends. He bends down to pray with her, her sniffles cutting through the soft music. When he’s done he turns to leave through a door by the stage. 

Johnny squeezes Simon’s hand, he looks over at him. Johnny brings Simon’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it, Simon quickly smiles at him. 

“You worked with my daughter?” Your mum asks. Simon turns to see her and her entourage stood at the end of their row of seats. 

“Yes, Captain Price.” John says standing up and extending his arm. She shakes his hand.

“She used to talk about you alot.” Your mum sniffs again trying to keep it together. “She loved her job.” 

Simon feels the pit form in his stomach. Yeah you did, gave your life for it. All for the greater good. 

“I need to know. The army didn’t tell me much.” A louder sob comes out her throat, she chokes it back. “Did she suffer?” 

It’s like a knife to the heart. Simon looks away. He hears Johnny let out a breath, he can almost hear the quiver in his lip. 

“No. She didn’t suffer.” John says keeping his voice level. He’s so good at remaining calm under pressure, so good at lying to people’s faces too. Simon doesnt think he could do it, not about you. 

Guilt starts to eat away at him as your mother sobs, Simon sneaks a glance seeing John’s arms wrapped around her. 

Why is it never fucking easy?

He looks away squeezing his eyes closed, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

He’ll mourn later, later when he and Johnny will go home after a few pints and cry in each other's arms, in the bed they shared with you. It will hurt, it’s going to hurt for a long time. 

That’s just what happens when love dies.

___

I have writers block bad. I'm just writing anything to get rid of it. (send help)

[gloomysoup]

he's probably worried (not hiding anymore)

@steddiebingo christmas card prompt: secret relationship

rating: teen+ | word count: 717 | tags: post-s3, post- starcourt, coming out | ao3

The air is filled with red-orange flames and smoke as the mall burns to the ground in front of him. His head is still spinning, face throbbing, and he can barely breathe. The adrenaline is starting to fade, and Steve’s injuries are making themselves known. He stands side-by-side with Robin, neither of them saying a word. Everything has changed. Neither of them will ever be the same person they once were.

Steve has a fleeting thought that Eddie must be worried. It's gone just as soon as it was there when the paramedics are ushering them into the ambulance and taking them to the hospital.

Everything is a blur of sirens and lights, Robin’s hand in his, a shock blanket around his shoulders. Doctors and bright lights, wires and beeping machines. He gets set up in a room for monitoring. Robin is okay. The kids are okay. Everyone is okay.

Steve doesn't even register what's happening when the nurse says they're going to call his emergency contact. His brain still feels a little fuzzy, even if things are starting to become clearer.

Everyone is gathered in Steve’s room. Robin and Dustin are sitting at the end of the bed, on either side of his legs. Robin refuses to leave his side. Steve is thinking about Eddie again.

Steve is late for dinner. He's probably so worried.

There's heavy footsteps in the hallway, shoes squeaking on the linoleum. The door flies open, and a head of curls stumbles into the room. Eddie’s eyes find Steve’s quickly, wild and full of fear and concern. He quickly crosses the room, pulling Steve into a tight hug. The room falls silent around them.

“Christ, Steve, I was so worried about you,” Eddie whispers, his voice tight like he's trying not to cry. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I'm okay, promise. Just a little banged up, that's all.”

Eddie sucks in a very shaky breath, not letting go of Steve. “You're not allowed to scare me like that anymore, asshole. I can't handle it.”

“I'll do my best. How'd you even know I was here?”

Eddie pulls back, his hands resting on the sides of Steve’s face. “The hospital called Wayne.”

The door opens again, and there's Wayne. Steve notes that he looks tired, but the older man smiles when his gaze lands on Steve.

“Glad to see you're still kickin’, kid,” he says, the worry washing away from his face.

“Sorry, Wayne, can't get rid of me that easy,” Steve says with a grin that pulls at his cuts and bruises. Wayne barks a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“What the hell is going on?” Dustin says, finally finding his voice.

Eddie's eyes go wide as he suddenly seems to realize they are not alone in the room. Steve grabs Eddie’s hand with a smile and gives it a squeeze. Then he clears his throat and looks at Dustin.

"Wayne is my emergency contact,” he explains. “Has been for a little while now. I've, uh… kinda been staying with them from time to time.”

Dustin frowns, his eyebrows knit together. “But… why?”

Steve glances at Eddie, squeezing his hand again. He takes a deep breath. It's now or never. “Eddie is… my boyfriend.”

It's the first time he's said the words out loud. It's the first time they put an actual label on what they are, what they truly mean to each other. They've been boyfriends for a little while now, but they never actually talked about it. There was always so much sneaking around and secrets and keeping it under wraps. They were both scared.

Not anymore.

Steve isn't scared to hide Eddie away from his friends, from his family. The people who truly matter. Not when Eddie has never been scared of hiding him from Wayne, his family. He's done being scared, because he knows there's so many scarier things out there. He knows that monsters are real, and he knows it'll take a lot more than a boyfriend to run off his monster hunting family.

So he smiles at Eddie, and he calls him boyfriend. Because that's what he is. He's Steve’s boyfriend, and he loves him.

He's done keeping that a secret from the people who have always had his back, despite what they've been through.

[startheskelaton]

I'm not sure how Nightflyer and Soundblsster met Sparkplug, but I guess they met her at Earth.

So I'll do my interpretation of how Nightflyer and Soundblaster got on Earth.

Nightflyer was at the palace as usual, going to his berth after he finishes all work for the day he overhears from his sire's chambers about space bridge and how it can take someone to a different planet.

Interested, he begs and pleades Soundblaster to help him try the space bridge, which Soundblaster soon agrees with, using this as an opportunity to get rid of Nightflyer.

So they sneak out and go to the room where the space bridge is kept, and they eventually find it after a few miss ups at which room is it and knocking a few guards or less.

They tried using the space bridge, but it went wrong, and they both ended on the same planet called Earth. They ended up in different places, Nightflyer ended up in the same forest where Optimus first arrived and met Spike, and he's amazed by Earth's beauty while Soundblaster ended up in near fancy human city as he wondered where the living FRAG he ended up.

And that's pretty much it. You can tell me how they actually ended up

Also, I think Nightflyer and Soundblaster would love Earth and its culture.

Nightflyer like Optimus from idw comic and maaaaaaaybe Repunzel from Tangled would fall in love with Earth's beauty and its creatures and plants since he never saw that back Cybertron where everything's metal. To his, this would be a dream come true since, like you said, he's into mutants and plants.

Soundblaster wouldn't like it at first, but then he sees humanity's arts, creativity, literature, museums, and many more humanity has to offer. Like Nightflyer, this would be a dream come true to him, too, since he's into art and literature.

.

.

Bonus: Back on Cybertron, Starscream and Shockwave panicking where the living Primus where their sons went and screaming at anyone while Slipscream tries to eat her energon cereal.

Anyway i really love your ocs and I wish to know more about them. I really love how you have progressed the story so far. I love it.

Actually the real answer is a good bit different, however I love the story you made, It was vary fun to read!

This is how it really went down.

Shockwave chose Nightflyer in particular to be the one to go to earth undercover, he did this because he knew that Night was so loyal to his family, that he wouldn't change sides if need be (this would be proven right later). Nightflyer was absolutely mortified when he was told that he needed to go to earth, not because he didn't like earth, but because he would have to go alone to make the plan look believable. Also he would have to purposefully crash his ship on the planet... but the alone thing was more of priority for him.

He dose make it to earth and makes the ship crash, making it look like he desperately trying to escape from Cybertron. He would be found and taken to the Autobot base (after checking him for tracking devices) where he would be questioned and checked to see if his arrival would bring more enemies to the planet. He was kinda blacked out for a while (because of the crash) when he was sent to Ratchet's med bay to undergo an emergency check up. And who just happened to be the reluctant medical assistant on hand? Sparkplug. She really had to fight her dad in order to stay and help with the exam (she really wanted to be part of something exciting, and a random hot guy falling from space was definitely exciting).

They properly met during tryouts for being put on a mission team. Nightflyer passed well (however he needed to hide his full potential as to not tip off that he was part of the Cybertonian guard). Sparkplug on the other hand passed with shockingly flying colors for a bot her size, however was immediately turned away by Megatron (this is because Sparkplug has been training most of her life to be qualified for off base missions, however is shot down by her dad each time at the qualifying tests. Like her late father, she's not one to take rejection lying down, so she has trained for years and gone to every try out. Much to Megatron's dismay, this has only forced her to get stronger then she would have been if he had passed her earlier).

At first Sparkplug is kinda spiteful against Night simply because he was able to go on missions despite being so new to the autobots, however something makes her look at him differently... she notices he's lying. She has no idea what about but she can feel it, something about his story is too perfect, he's moving up the ranks too quickly and cold outer shell doesn't fit with someone who wanted to break away from his original faction. So when she finds him in the library one night, she corners him, and he breaks... but not fully. He reveals his true personality to her, but not his mission. He is vary genuin about how he feels trapped by having to mask all the time, that no one would take his seriously if he was himself, and how he genuinely felt oppressed by the "the strong rule the weak" mentality of the Decepticons. In return, Sparkplug opens up about her strange existence and confusing expectations people have for her. That she needs to be a replacement but not a copy, to have prime's kindness but none of Megatron's anger, love herself for being special but listen to everyone talk about how freaky her existence is. And after that night... Sparks start to fly between the two.

Soundblaster met Sparkplug in the middle of space.

Eventually the time comes and the seekers (slipstream and company) show up on earth and it's revealed that Nightflyer was a spy the whole time. And a dangerous one at that, actually able to go up against a good amount of the autoboots. This breaks Sparkplug's heart because she talked to Nightflyer a LOT, she had no idea if any of that was real or not. It didn't help his case when he immediately sided with his sister, going back to being a deception due to his loyalty to his family.

However during this shit show, who arrives but the DJD, taking advantage to the situation to try and take Sparkplug in order to make her a new Megatron. Seeking a chance to be praised by Shockwave, Soundblaster is able to grab Sparkplug admits the chaos (capturing the last remints of Optimus prime would be extremely useful in manipulating the public or just making a super weapon) . However due to a mix of Skywarp's powers fucking up along with Slipstream's (she has the same power's as Skywarp), Soundblaster and Sparkplug are warped halfway across the universe. This now forces our characters to try and find Spark before anyone else can.

When coming to, Sparkplug is absolutely livid at Soundblaster and immediately attacks him. But due to the situation, they reluctantly come to an agrement, get somewhere where they can get back to Cybertron or earth, then fight about it then. This forces the two to work with one another to try and make it to intergalactic space station without dying. During this time, Sound only communicates through mores code, never speaking once. However him and Sparkplug have a good amount of conversations, slowly opening up to one another. They really hit it off when Sparkplug is able to relate to Soundblaster, but admit that he defiantly had it worse then her (nightflyer on the other hand saw himself and Soundblaster as equally out cased despite the huge power discrepancy). She's able to see him for who he is, what he was supposed to be, and who he wants to be... and this makes Soundblaster throw away his loyalty to the decepticons and decide to be loyal to Sparkplug herself.

OH MY GOD this was a long post, I could go on but I need to stop myself before this becomes an essay.

[teklarn]

devoted little thing, pt 1. - j. todd

masterlist!

jason todd x fem!reader

link to the fic on AO3 -> here

genre: angst (series)

summary: After the death of your boyfriend, Jason Todd, your life has never been the same. You abandon everything you've ever known: your job working for Batman as a detective, your home, your friends. That is until three years after his death, your life is saved by a mysterious vigilante calling himself the Red Hood.

You assume it was a one-off; that the infamous anti-hero just happened to be in the right place at the right time. But you're finding his calling card everywhere. He's around every single corner―you can't seem to get rid of him. The mystery of his identity brings you back to Bruce in hopes of finding out who he is. But as intimidating as the Red Hood is, with his blurry morals and all, you can't help but find yourself falling for him.

Your devotion to your late lover, Jason, is strong, but it feels so nice to be touched again―how could you say no to the man who saved your life?

warnings: non canon compliant, heavy themes of depression and anxiety, slight yandere themes to come, slight stalking, suicidal thoughts, heavy angst, death, unedited.

-

He had always been angry. So damn angry. At you, at the world, at Bruce. 

And you knew, dammit. You had known deep down that his anger would cost him dearly one day. 

You just didn't think it would put him in the ground. 

Tears erupted from your eyes like a waterfall, Bruce and Alfred the only other people present as they dropped your beloved into the ground, his youthful face illuminated by the silver moonlight spilling over the graveyard. The three of you stayed silent. What was there to say? At any other funeral, people would say the usual: He died too young. His life still has meaning. He's looking down on us right now. He'll guide you. 

Damn it all. Damn everything. As you stared at that coffin, the dark wood splattered with raindrops violently crashing down, you couldn't help the anger boiling in your veins. Sad as you were, you couldn't help but think to yourself: Was I not enough? Not enough to stop him from chasing his anger down into a well. A pit of darkness so deep and inescapable even you couldn't pull him out of it. 

Bruce rests a hand on your shoulder, lifting the umbrella higher to further shelter you from the violent downpour. You pretend not to notice the way his cheeks are rosy from the cold, or how his eyes are watering the longer he stares at the grave. 

Death curls its bony fingers around your throat―it whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Once upon a time, you'd been just like Jason. Alone on the streets, an orphan with no direction in life. But cursed with a talent for solving any mystery you could get your hand on, Bruce welcomed you into his family, where you had met Jason. Someone who knew what it was like to be alone. Someone with the same resentment towards the world. The only person who understood you was in the ground now. And, just hours before his death, you had fought. 

Jason was no easy-going boy. There were some days where you pondered that perhaps Jason liked to bicker with you. He liked the thrill of fighting, of winning. Your relationship was perfect by no means, but it wasn't toxic. Not until his anger got the best of him, like it had hours before his death. The fight had started like many others and had ended the same way: with him storming out the door, cheeks reddened with fury, hints of tears glinting in his eyes. 

On any normal day, you would have chased after him. Told him not to run away from his problems. He would have returned with a scowl on his face, but at least he would still be home. It was the one time you didn't chase after him. The one time you let him slip away. 

And dammit, the guilt was stabbing your gut like rusty knives. 

You resisted the urge to shove Bruce's hand off your shoulder, instead opting for the respectful option of turning away, claiming you just needed space. Which wasn't entirely a lie. You didn't want to be near Bruce, nor Alfred, but if they hadn't been standing at Jason's grave, you would have stayed there and cried all night. Until your eyes were puffy, until the rain left you a shivering, soaking mess. Until Death came to claim you itself. 

Back inside, when Bruce and Alfred finally rejoined you, you'd already showered and changed into a dry pair of clothes. It had taken all the strength left inside your soul to take care of yourself. To not throw yourself onto your bed and drown beneath the plush sheets. 

You couldn't look Bruce in the eye. The fire flickered, casting shadows on his harsh features, the flames dancing across the walls. His eyes were angry. His eyes looked like Jason's. 

On long, hard days, Jason would rant about Bruce. About his antics, his supposed cowardice, his lack of courage when it came to doing the hard thing over the right thing. On those days, you yearned to tell Jason that he looked just like Bruce. That the only real difference between them was that Bruce would choose his morals over everything. 

Now, Bruce's eyes darkened. There was hate behind them. Thoughts swarming, filled with white-hot anger that mirrored your own. That same anger that mirrored Jason's. You couldn't do it. You could barely keep yourself on your feet. 

"Is everything all right?" Alfred asked, his gaze averting from his master to you. The wrinkles in his face made you sick. It felt wrong to see someone so old, so wise, someone who had lived life to the fullest of years. In fifty years, Jason should look just like Alfred. With wrinkles and smile lines pressed deep into his features. Crows feet should crinkle at the edges of his eyes and his smile should reflect accomplishment. 

You tried to shove the image from your head, but staring at Bruce and Alfred was like looking at future versions of the man you loved. The man you'd just buried underground mere hours ago. 

Blinking away tears, you waved off the poor butler. "I have to go. I'm sorry." 

Weeks later, you felt entirely, hopelessly useless. And Bruce had allowed you to rot. Your bed was your only comfort aside from your imagination. You'd pull your pillows close, running your hands over the smooth cases, digging your fingers into the wrinkles the same way you'd fist Jason's shirt when he'd hold you. Bruce's disciplined antics hadn't ceased, but he was shockingly understanding. 

Well, maybe not shockingly. To him, he'd lost a son. To you, you'd lost a best friend, a lover, a soulmate. Whatever your naive little mind could conjure up. Jason was everything. 

As the days dragged on, your anger subsided. All you wanted was him, now. One more minute to apologize for your attitude, one more second just to run your fingers over his olive-toned skin. Just a moment. One fleeting, desperate moment to say three words: "I love you." 

Your mind was a prison of grief, your body was a shell housing a half-dead soul. Periodically, Alfred came in to set plates of food on your nightstand. Your mouth watered, but the food remained untouched for the most part. Guilt prodded at your stomach. Bruce should find a way to drag you out of bed. He should force you to stop mourning; to find a distraction. Perhaps a new case for you to dive into. 

You felt like throwing up. 

Just the image of Bruce's face brought back the image of Jason's. An older, colder version of Jason hardened by the vices of the world. And Alfred, sweet Alfred could place a reason as to why you refused to look at him, too. 

It was all because of Jason. Because he deserved to live, to be old and die old. He deserved to be ninety and to rot away in some hospice, waiting for death to greet him like an old friend. His hairline would be receded and his face would be marred with age spots and freckles from years of baking under the sun. 

"Miss?" A knock at your door sounded, and the familiar voice of Bruce's friendly butler flooded your ears. 

A quiet sob slipped past your lips. Loneliness was consuming you like a disease, but who could you talk to that would be worth your time? Who would understand you, who would bring you back to life the way he always knew how to? 

A soft, "Mhm?" was all you could manage. 

You heard Alfred peel the door open with a creak, and the smell of steaming hot food invaded your nostrils, the mouth-watering spices wafting into your room and filling the space with warmth and love. He set the plate down on your nightstand, exchanging it for your un-touched dinner from the night before. 

"Master Wayne is requesting your presence. Would you...care to join him after breakfast?" The hesitance in Alfred's voice made your guilt ten times worse. You were bloated with regret and sadness―it was spilling through your mouth, your eyes. Your very being was drenched with remorse. 

"I can join him now," you say weakly. You didn't care much to make yourself presentable. Bruce had known both you and Jason's since you were children. You'd both been welcomed into the family under the same circumstances. Jason, being only a few years older than you, had been the first to make you feel truly at home. Everything seemed to revolve around Jason and it made you so...so angry. 

"He insists you take your time getting ready." The gentleness in Alfred's tone told you everything he meant to portray. Take all the time you need. There's something important he needs to tell you. 

When the door clicks shut, you don't know how, but you manage to crawl out of bed. The feeling of your feet on the scratchy carpet is foreign, even the hot water running down your body feels like a new sensation when you're able to drag your ass into the shower. Damn, how long had it been since you last washed up? 

The depression had a chokehold on you. It had sunk its teeth and nails bone-deep, slowly slurping the life from your veins. Your body obeyed nothing but sloth. It was a shock even to yourself that you had offered to meet Bruce downstairs. 

By the time you wipe the steam off the mirror and see yourself, you look the same as you had the day you buried Jason. Your eyes are still painfully puffy, your skin dry from tears dragging down your cheeks. You throw on suitable but casual clothing, and you have to admit, it feels nice to put yourself together after spending weeks sinking into your mattress, practically binding your body to it. 

Downstairs, Bruce is already waiting. Alfred has your coat ready. Your footsteps halt on the stairs as hesitance builds its way through your body. You can still barely look at Bruce without seeing Jason. You train your eyes on Alfred instead, hoping that you'll find his wrinkled face easier to bear. 

"What's going on?" Your voice cuts through the silence, echoing painfully along the empty walls of the manor. 

Bruce sighs, but you keep your eyes down or on Alfred. You can't look at him. You really can't. He takes your jacket from Alfred and holds the arms out for you. "We're relocating you." 

"What? Relocating me? What does that mean?" Confusion ebbs its way into your mind. 

"Both Alfred and I have concluded that it isn't healthy for you to stay here anymore. You need something new. Something―" 

You cut Bruce off. "What the hell do you mean by relocating me?" 

Alfred straightened. "There's an apartment Master Wayne has purchased within the city. We thought it might be better for you to be surrounded by people. There might be an opportunity for you to―" 

"To what? I don't need to be moved, I'm fine where I am. What about all the cases I've solved in the past? You don't think I'm fit to do it anymore?" You knew they were only trying to help. That this was the only way they knew how after you'd completely shut down. But your anger couldn't be snuffed out. This outburst was new. It wasn't you. "What? Are you trying to get rid of me? Am I too much of a reminder of him? Don't try to run away from your issues again, Bruce." 

You didn't want to say this. You didn't want to be so...mean. But dammit, your mouth was moving too fast for you to think. Even when Alfred and Bruce's faces flickered with sympathy and a strange sense of understanding, you didn't stop your insults. 

"I don't need to move. I don't need to run away." Your brows knit together in anger. 

"Then what do you need?" Bruce dared to ask. 

"I..." Your voice caught in your throat. I want Jason, I want his comfort. I want his words, his arms, his love and unconditional understanding. 

Bruce's stern features tightened. Instead of the father-figure you'd come to know, he was just a businessman right now. Cold, calculating, demanding. The strength it took you to meet his gaze was all you needed to snatch your coat and toss yourself into his vehicle.

The apartment wasn't shaggy, but it was homey. It felt much warmer than the emptiness you'd been accustomed to back at the estate. The ride here had been riddled with painful silence, you nor Bruce or Alfred daring to speak. A part of you wanted to apologize for your outburst. It wasn't their fault, they were just trying to help. You knew damn well that was the truth. 

One bathroom, one bedroom, a generous kitchen, and a balcony three stories up, overlooking the trash-littered street below. Gotham wasn't a beautiful place, but maybe it was just what you needed. To be around people, surrounded by the environment of people just as lost and as broken as you. 

The lack of elegance made you appreciate the apartment that much more. Bruce knew you didn't need anymore empty space to fill. And this...this was what you needed. 

Still, some wretched part of you couldn't stand the thought of decisions being made for you. You wanted someone to blame, someone to yell at. Something to take out your anger on. 

"We'd like to keep in touch." Bruce handed you a transmitter. One of his high-tech ones made just for you. It was an order, not a request. You snatched the transmitter from his calloused hands and stuffed it away. 

"How do you know I'm not going to kill myself now that no one is watching me?" You snickered. Your chuckle was humorless. It was a painful truth they hadn't thought of. Or...they had, judging by the tension pulling on their features. 

You didn't want to ask how or why. 

Don't make this about you, you scolded yourself. Gray emotions swirled within you. 

"We'll deliver your things tomorrow morning. Just allow yourself to get settled in." Alfred nodded to the transmitter. "If you need anything―anything at all―don't hesitate to reach out. This will be good for you." 

You must have pushed the awkward farewells from your mind, because somehow you ended up on the floor of your new apartment, sobbing at the emptiness. The void of your new home felt like a region in outer space that even an alien wouldn't belong to. Your mixed emotions, the pain running through your chest, it was all a constant reminder of what you lost, of who you were haunted by. Of the person you'd never see again. 

The emptiness inside of you was a permanent reminder of the person you had once loved the most, and how he had died thinking you were angry at him. 

This is good for me, you reminded yourself. 

Tears spilled from your eyes. 

This is good for me.

-

link to the fic on AO3 -> here

[dilf-din]

I Don’t Wanna Get Used to Not Having You Around

Frank Castle X f!reader for @xxdrixx

A gift for you my sweet friend!! Please enjoy a little fake dating Frank fic I cooked up!! Title is from In the Heights by Knox Hamilton

WC: 4100

Warnings: none, fake dating, slight sugar daddy vibes if you squint, no beta if you see a typo no you didn’t

Frank slipped into his usual haunt, black hood up and boot speckled with rain. Incessant drizzles like this one meant a thinner crowd than usual. Of course, he did a quick scan of the room from the wide window before he entered. A group of college aged guys gathered around the pool table, three middle aged men at the far end of the bar watching the giants play, and a girl at the opposite end hunched over a drink he couldn’t make out. Once he deduced there were no threats, he entered quietly, stamping his feet on the crooked mat to rid himself of any larger raindrops and pushing it straight with the toe of his boot before taking a seat on one of the barstools with frayed seams and stuffing spilling out.

Two stars on yelp meant cheap drinks and sparse evenings. Perfect for someone like him.

He flagged down the bartender for a beer and shrugged his hood down. A bruise on his cheek was fading to a sickly green, but he was otherwise free of wounds which was a rarity.

Frank fished a book from his inner jacket pocket and noticed the girl two seats down from him more clearly now. Watery eyes, a pile of disintegrating tissues in her pockets that she had been using to dry the stream of tears. Chipped nail polish that had clearly been picked at and a phone that she incessantly checked for a message that didn’t seem to be coming.

For some reason, he was overcome with pity for this stranger.

He cleared his throat, “If the drink’s that bad, I can buy ya another one.”

You tensed slightly at his voice and looked to see who he was talking to before realizing it was you.

“Oh,” you laughed, a small one but a real one. “No, this is the only thing that’s helping.”

Frank nodded and cracked his book open, unable to parse if he should further the conversation.

He closed his book just as quickly as he had opened it, “Shitty guy?”

“The shittiest,” you instantly responded, turning slightly on the stool to face him.

The bartender set Frank’s beer down and he gave a quiet, “Thank you,” accompanied by a nod.

“My ex is engaged, to a girl I hate,” you drew out the H sound incredulously. “We went to the same college and she was always weirdly competitive with me, going for the same opportunities, stealing my ideas and trying to outdo me. We even applied for the same job at the end, and she got it instead of me. And he fed me some bullshit about us being incompatible. I feel like I got traded in for the better model,” your voice wavered. You picked up your drink and drained the second half in one gulp.

“That’s,” Frank paused, “Profoundly shitty.”

“They invited me to their engagement party,” you scoffed, pushing your phone away from you.

“Yikes,” Frank scratched the back of his head.

“And I’m still at the same shitty job living in the same shitty apartment. No date. Nothing nice to wear, no way to pretend like I’m a fraction as okay as them,” you signaled to the bartender for a refill.

“You might want it straight from the bottle,” Frank whispered, making a slight gesture towards their kitchen and wordlessly grimacing.

“Gross,” you wrinkled your nose, “Thanks for the tip.”

“When’s the party?”

“Tomorrow,” you groaned and laid your head on the cool tile of the bar before quickly retracting from the sticky residue you were met with.

“How did I never notice how bad this place is?” you laughed.

“It’s easy to ignore when you’re trying to forget everything else.”

“Who are you trying to forget?” you asked softly, resting your chin against your hands and really taking him in for the first time.

A strong jaw and nose, broad shoulders, neat hair and square posture. You would’ve guessed ex-military even before you eyed the dog tags around his neck with what looked to be a wedding ring.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line”, you apologized quickly.

He shrugged it off, “Nah, you’re just making conversation with the jackass who hit you up at the bar. I’m the one who didn’t mind my business.”

“Well I don’t think you’re a jackass.”

“You’d be in the minority then,” he scoffed a laugh and took a swig of his beer.

A short silence hung in the air between you. The clack of pool balls, loud complaints from the men watching football, the roar of the heater in the corner. Your head swam a little under the low lights as you stared at the man beside you. Feeling bold, you slid over to another stool until only one sat between you.

“I’m Frank,” he smiled.

Fuck. He was tanked.

While the two of you made further conversation, Frank took in everything about you. The shine of your eyes, the lilt of your laugh, the way your hair fell across your face and how badly he wanted to brush it behind your ear so it no longer obscured his view of you.

For hours the two of you chatted and drank. At some point, Frank scooted to the stool next to yours until your shoulders were flush against each other.

He leaned in to whisper to you, observations and wisecracks about the other bar patrons. You could feel the stubble on his cheek against your earlobe and his breath falling on your cheek, clouding your senses and making you forget that you had chosen that bar to be alone and cry tonight.

“I have a stupid idea,” he said, angling his body towards yours and you missed the contact of his shoulder.

“I love stupid ideas,” you grinned.

“Let me take you to that party tomorrow. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend. We can show them what they’re missing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you laughed, then paused to contemplate.

Frank knew this was a bad idea. That if you said yes, he’d be in too deep. He was already under your spell and you weren’t even trying to be anything but an unguarded, unfiltered version of yourself.

“You don’t have to do that. Keeping me company tonight means I’m already in your debt. I don’t like when the score is that uneven.”

“On the contrary, you kept a lonely guy like me company tonight, so I actually owe you.”

You laughed and looked down, really starting to consider his offer.

“You would do that?”

“If there’s anything I love, it’s giving people hell. Having a beautiful girl on my arm is just a bonus.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you nodded.

The two of you exchanged contact info, when and where he should pick you up, and parted ways, but not before he insisted on walking you home. You could tell he wasn’t a creep, and that his insistence came from a place of concern and protection. You looked at the ring hanging from his neck, and allowed him to accompany you. Something told you he was carrying some regret about not being able to protect someone once. Plus he had already punched your address into the contact in his phone, so it’s not like seeing it in person put you at any greater risk. If anything, you did feel safe walking next to him. You noticed the way his eyes scanned every alley and intersection. Though you weren’t holding hands, you felt the urge to cling to him as he guided you through the rainy night.

“This is me,” you announced at the foot of a staircase leading to a well lit brick building. “I’m that one right there,” you pointed to the corner window on the third floor.

“I’ll uh, see you tomorrow,” he shifted on his heels and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Good night, Frank,” you smiled, casting one last look over your shoulder at the mysterious man before unlocking the door to let yourself in.

Frank lingered on the sidewalk, counting the seconds until he saw the light in your window flip on. He disappeared before you could check the pavement to see him still standing there.

———

You woke the morning to splitting headache and two texts from Frank.

“Good morning. Drink some water before you do anything.”

“Heard you mention you didn’t have anything to wear. Get yourself something nice.”

Attached to the second message was an apple payment for $300.

You responded immediately.

“Frank this is ridiculous. I can’t take this money from you.”

Three dots as he immediately started typing his response.

“Consider it a thank you. Been a long time since I had a night as nice as last night.”

“Well thank you back.”

“See you at 7”

You dropped your phone to your chest and stared at the ceiling. What have you gotten yourself into.

A gurgling growl from your stomach coaxed you out of bed to assemble any kind of breakfast to sop up this hangover, accompanied by a tall glass of water, doctor’s orders.

After breakfast, you showered to get the smell of last night out of your hair. When you gathered your laundry to toss in the washing machine, you caught of whiff of Frank’s cologne on your hoodie, and fished it out. For some reason, you wanted to save that little memory, and laid it across the foot of your bed while you dressed to get ready for your shopping excursion.

It was windy this week, and your eyes stung as you stepped into the brisk air. You drew your scarf a little higher up and trekked into town. There was a department store not too far from where you lived, so you decided to try there and hope for the best.

The store was almost empty, save for a few ladies holding up sweaters to their bodies to check the length of the sleeves before placing them back on the rack.

Nothing stood out to you until you found a black velvet mini dress. It had a high neck and long sleeves, and the fabric slightly sparkled in the right light. On the way to the dressing room, you spotted a pair of knee high boots cut from the same fabric. There was one pair left in your size that you grabbed to try on as well.

It fit like a glove. The expanse of your thigh that peeked out between the boots and the bottom of the dress made you look elongated and sexy.

“Not too bad,” you murmured, doing a spin to admire your figure from every angle. With a few accessories and your hair pulled back into a bun, this would do quite nicely.

On your way to the register, you stopped to pick a pair of dangly gold earrings.

There was still a good bit of daylight left before Frank was supposed to pick you up, and you found yourself feeling antsy.

“Found a dress. Want to see?”

“I’ll wait till tonight. Bet you look beautiful.”

Another wave of butterflies.

“Are you doing anything?”

“Negative.”

“Early dinner?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be there at 5.”

Though it was still early afternoon, at least you shaved a few hours off until you could see him again. You found yourself strangely looking forward to the whole evening.

Popping in your headphones, you decided to clean your apartment. You danced from room to room mopping the floors and dusting the corners. You switched your laundry to the dryer and decided to toss in your sheets while you had the momentum.

At the end of your cleaning stint, it was nearing 3:30, and you decided you could start getting ready.

You brushed your teeth, applied simple makeup, and plucked a few stray hairs while an audiobook droned on in the background. Pulling on the dress once again, you were in love with the way it hugged your body, feeling a confidence you had been missing. A small jewelry box sat on your cluttered vanity holding not much besides a few pieces your mother had given you.

Carefully, you fished out the tennis bracelet and matching necklace that would perfectly complement the earrings you had picked up today. The last thing to do was pull your hair into a loose bun at the base of your neck. You pulled a few strands out to frame your face, and heard the buzzer to your apartment.

“You’re early,” you teased.

“Need me to walk around the block and come back?”

Without answering, you buzzed him in.

Suddenly, the butterflies were back. You did a once over in the mirror and sprayed on your perfume right when you heard a gentle knock at your door.

Without looking through the peephole, you unlatched the door to let Frank inside.

He smiled and presented a bouquet of flowers to you.

“Well hello,” you tried to conceal the heat that was rising to your face.

“My ma told me to always bring a lady flowers,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t an incredibly sweet gesture for two near strangers.

“And mine taught me to send thank you notes, so expect one this week,” you smiled turning to get them in a vase before the two of you left for the evening.

Angel, your small white cat mewled pitifully at Frank who bent down to scratch behind her ears.

You filled a vase with water and set the bouquet into it, carefully rearranging a few stems. It was a beautiful palette of whites and oranges.

“Do you still need a minute?”

“I just need my boots and coat,” you replied, rounding the corner out of the kitchen and skidding by him in mismatched ankle socks that he found incredibly endearing.

You sat on the edge of the overstuffed ottoman by the chair at the door and pulled the boots up your long legs, zipping them and brushing a bit of lint off of them. Frank looked away, turning to pretend to admire your wall art instead.

“What do you think?” You asked nervously fidgeting with the hem.

“I think you look like a million bucks,” he said quietly. He held his hand out for you to grab and do a little spin.

“Try three hundred,” you winked and he cracked a nervous laugh. Moving his hand up to run it over his chin and try to conceal his smitten smile.

“I think you look good enough to make that doofus see he’s missing out.”

“You clean up nice yourself,” you pulled your long black coat out of the closet and Frank wordlessly held it open for you to slip your arms into.

Frank was also in all black, sporting a button down and tie with jeans with some chelsea boots that looked new, or like something he only pulled out for special occasions. On top of it all he had a leather jacket that fit him like a glove.

“We’re so in sync we matched. We already have that couple telepathy,” you joked, grabbing your bag and dropping your phone in next to your keys. “Bye, Angel,” you cooed to your cat, leaning down to offer your nose that she gently pressed her own into.

Christ that was cute.

“I got us a table at a place close to the party,” he explained on the way down to his truck.

“You’re quite the planner,” you said sounding impressed.

“Something like that that,” he mumbled, closing your door behind you and making his way to the driver’s seat.

Though old, he kept his truck in perfect condition. There was an air freshener shaped like a tree hanging from the mirror, the windshield was spotless, and the floor mats even looked recently vacuumed. The radio played classic rock low through the speakers as you made light conversation on the way to the restaurant. You kept reminding yourself this wasn’t a real date. This was all just part of the act. You might not even see him after tonight, so why were you so nervous?

Frank turned on the charm over dinner, bantering with the waitstaff and ordering expensive wine for you to share. You started to wonder where he got this seemingly never ending supply of money and why he was spending it on you of all people. He was polite, paid cash, left generous tips. The thought of him being in the mob crossed your mind.

Frank checked the watch on his wrist, “It’s almost showtime. You need another minute?”

You finished off the glass of wine in front of you and exhaled, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Frank helped you into your jacket once more and offered you a firm hand to hold as you stepped over the threshold of the restaurant. His manners also never seemed to be in short supply. You bet to everyone else, you looked like a normal couple on a normal night out, not two strangers on a mission to scorn your ex. It was fun to pretend that this was for real.

You were quiet on the drive to the party, absentmindedly picking at what remained of your nail polish and wishing you had thought to repaint your nails.

Frank could sense your nerves.

“Just say the word and we can go.”

You looked over to meet his intense gaze.

“I can tell this is tearin’ ya up. So if you want to forget this whole thing, we can leave now. I’m sorry I even suggested it.”

“No, no I think this will be good for me. I need to face them. Thank you though,” you smiled sincerely.

Frank parked a few blocks down. He pulled the key from the ignition and exhaled.

“Ready when you are.”

“Let’s get it over with,” you sighed, reaching down for your purse.

Frank rushed out to open your door before you could even think about touching it.

“My lady,” he smiled charmingly as he offered you an arm down.

“Frankie, you’re too good to me,” you leaned against his arm, and he felt his throat tighten at your closeness.

“Their names are Beck and Dawn,” you whispered as you made your way to their stairs.

“Which is which?” He asked in earnest.

You tried to conceal a snicker as you let yourself in.

The halls were crowded with a number of faces you didn’t recognize and a few you did. Old classmates and colleagues, friends of Beck’s.

Less than a minute in and you already felt like you were suffocating.

You fished a card out of your purse and dropped it on a table that seemed to be collecting gifts and well wishes.

“Let’s get this over with,” you turned your head up to whisper to him.

Frank helped you out of your jacket and laid it next to his on a chair, then rested his hand on the small of your back. You tried to not think about the warmth of his skin and the width of his palm as you headed into the kitchen, exchanging a few polite greetings.

“They’re over there, but I want them to come to us,” you leaned up to whisper again.

Frank turned into you and nuzzled his nose against yours in a way that made you dizzy.

“She’s looking at us,” he whispered against your earlobe. His breath was hot on your neck, and for a second you thought about turning around and shoving your tongue down his throat to really sell it.

Frank’s hands lighted on your hips and he leaned in to whisper again, “You look sexy as hell. Don doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Dawn is the girl,” you hissed through a giggle.

“I told you I can’t tell the difference,” he laughed genuinely and both of your faces were lit up as Dawn and Beck made their way to you.

“Hey you!” Beck drew you into an awkward side hug.

“We didn’t think you would show,” Dawn said with a hint of true shock in her voice.

“Oh we were already in the neighborhood so we figured we might as well,” you shrugged. “This is Frank,” you smiled with a hand pressed to his side as the other was wrapped around his back.

Frank gave Beck a firm handshake, firmer than he should have but he couldn’t resist. When Beck drew his hand back and shook it out he asked, “Are you military, Frank?”

“Retired marine.”

“Oh hey, semper fi.”

Frank stared at him blankly. He could tell from everything about this goon that he had never served anything but overpriced coffee.

“Funny how life works out, huh?” Dawn forced a smile as she caressed Beck’s lacking bicep. Frank tried and failed to not feel incredibly superior to both of them.

“Yeah I’d say we both found people who deserve us,” you volleyed back.

Frank’s grip on your waist tightened in a possessive way that flooded you with heat as he and Beck seemed to be in a silent stare down.

Feeling bold you decided to say one more thing, “I hope you drive each other crazy. You truly deserve it.”

Beck started to say something, but you took long strides to the exit, leaving him behind once and for all. Frank shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if he had nothing else to add, following you back to the car.

Tomorrow they would open a card addressed to them congratulating Dawn on once again stealing something that belonged to you.

In your rush to leave, you left your jacket and were met with an unpleasant gust of wind.

Frank followed behind you a moment later, holding your jacket open to step into once again.

“My savior,” you murmured. Your heart was still pounding as nearly a decade of feeling looked over and plotted against settled in your throat. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks before you had a chance to convince them not to.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” Frank said softly, swiping the tears away with rough knuckles.

You stood on the stoop trying to compose yourself, and buried your face in Frank’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you without hesitation and settled his feet to become a wall against the biting wind.

“Not that I mind holding ya, but do you wanna go somewhere else away from these assholes?”

“Yes please,” you sniffed, following him back to his truck.

Once you had settled into the cab, Frank turned the heat on and adjusted the vents so you could warm your fingers beneath them.

“I’m sorry,” you started.

Frank scoffed as he prepared to chastise you.

“Not for crying, for bringing you here. I have too much baggage with both of them. It wasn’t fair to rope a stranger into all this.”

You met his gaze with a fresh wave of tears crowding your eyes.

“Couple things, sweetheart. One, you didn’t drag me anywhere. I’m not the kind of guy who does things I don’t want to do. And second, you don’t have to apologize. We’ve all got baggage. Some of us carry it with us everywhere,” he cleared his throat. “And third, I know it’s been a weird coupla days, but I’d love to not be strangers when this is all said and done.”

You searched his face and only saw things you had always longed for: patience, sincerity, adoration.

“I can tell you feel broken right now, but it won’t always feel that way. Forget those jokers. They don’t know what they’re missing. I think I walked out with the prize tonight.”

Frank licked his lips nervously and cast his eyes downward. It wasn’t like him to be so bold, but he had learned long ago that hesitating means you lose out on the best stuff life could give you.

You scooted closer to him, leaving a small space like you had in the bar. Frank scooted closer to you and closed the gap. His hands on your neck were rough and warm as he pulled you into a kiss.

He kissed like a man who had known both love and loss, passion and regret. It was tender, holy, all consuming.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since yesterday,” he laughed against your mouth, stealing another quick kiss.

“I promise I’ll never make you wait 24 hours again,” you laughed back.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he drew his hands back and started pressing buttons on his watch.

“What are you doing?”

“Settin’ a timer,” he smiled, not meeting your eyes as he moved the small dials with his large fingers.

[eyelambspider]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚… 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞 || 𝐂𝐎𝐃 𝐇𝐜𝐬

┊𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : John Price, König, Ghost, Weaver x gn!reader ┊𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : these military men have a cute 'secret' photo of you quite literally hidden on them, its just a uh-memento to look at when off duty ┊𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : (un)established relationship (you can pick), fluff ┊𝐚/𝐧 : next: old love languages smhhh (maybe)

▹ John Price

Price has always kept a photo of you with him. Always... Well, since you'd met him.

Its a picture you had insisted he get rid of when he took it himself and showed you.

It showed you truly laughing. A bright, 'embarrassing' smile on your face that completely lit up your eyes and showed your teeth before you could cover your face shyly.

Maybe you didn't like it, but Price had stowed it away for 'safe-keeping' ever since. Once promising to get rid of it but of course... he couldn't really do it, could he?

Price keeps it under the brim of his hat, where he wouldn't let anyone take it.

He keeps the image in great shape, making sure there's a protective film over it, trying not to bend or fold it in anyway. Hell, he'd sew it in there whenever he got the chance... but he likes holding it when no one's looking too.

Every time he looks down at it-the picture of you laughing and pure-it makes him smile too, the rough pads of his thumbs brushing over your face.

▹ König

König technically has two photos of you.

One is on his phone in his photo gallery, and the other is a small polaroid you had taken of yourself.

He is free to look at the one on his phone whenever, and its something quickly available... yet he doesn't really open it if there are people around try to glance over his shoulder at what he's looking at.

So, he deeply treasures the tiny polaroid and tries to keep it as safe as possible.

König is the least discreet, to no fault of his own. He's usually caught the moment he tries to look at either one. Either fumbling with his phone or slapping the photo close to his chest so that no one would see.

He just really likes looking at them.

Acts like it never happens and vehemently denies everything, even if to Horangi its pretty obvious.

Sometimes König draws over the pictures, idly doodling either next to the polaroid on a piece of paper while he's doing work or running his finger over his phone screen.

▹ Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost keeps a picture of you too.

Its a small thing, someone had taken when the two of you weren't paying attention. A celebratory photo after a mission.

The moment it was taken, mostly without his knowledge, he had snatched the photo away in hopes to burn it later. Leave no trace of himself to wonder.

But fuck, he couldn't.

It was actually... nice, once he got a good look at it. The image of you both together, standing so closely. The way he looked at you in the photo-brown eyes soft and fully raptured by your face behind his mask-was enough to make him scoff.

Of course the camera caught the exact moment of he showed a bit of fondness.

Still, he keeps it to this day. Buried under all his other meager gear. Folded back so that his image is tucked away and yours stands out.

He doesn't like looking at his face, just yours.

He'd never take it out to the field, where someone could possibly discover a possible... to know your face and use it against him, but sometimes in the loneliest of nights, he takes it out just to look at it.

▹ Grigori Weaver

Weaver would never admit it, but yes, he has a picture of you.

He doesn't want you to know, or find out about it.

If you did, he just denies it and claims "he doesn't know where that thing came from"

but truthfully, its his most precious keepsake.

Its what kept him going through all those years he'd served in prison.

A simple image of your face.

The photo is no bigger than his palm, and its just of you. A small portrait.

The picture is old and worn down lovingly. The corners soft and rounded, and folded in half so many times he had taped the back of it to keep it from splitting entirely in half.

Clearly, it means a lot, with how much care he's tried to put into mending the delicate thing.

He hides the picture in his breast pocket, close to his heart, and in a place only he knows.

It brings a sense of comfort sometimes, knowing your image is so close when he's out there trying to 'fix' things.

[bloogers-boogers]

An AU where Lucifer and Adam fall in love after Lilith fled the garden yet went back to convince Adam to join them, in this universe, Lilith convinced Adam and he joined their revolution. Lucifer falls in love with Adam during their time planning, he tells Lilith and she understands. Eventually with time heaven finds out about this whole entire thing, including Adam and Lucifer's now growing relationship/ family. And lastly Lucifer is given a hard gut wrenching choice. To pick choosing to save Adam and their son instead of keeping his memories of falling in love with Adam. The consequences of chosing this option is that both Lucifer and Adam would forget their history together as if it never existed, the gain from this? Heaven doesn't have to get rid of Adam and Abel.

Eve basically raised Abel as her own without the knowledge that she did not birth him unlike Cain. Adam continues being the chosen one to father all humanity alongside Eve, his wife. And ends up growing resentful towards Abel thinking he was the result of Eve’s and Lucifer's affair as Abel looked and acted identical to Lucifer. Eve obviously denied everything but Adam was too blinded by rage and betrayal to believe her word for it. Eve knew Abel was Adam's but deep inside she felt no genuine connection to Abel like a mother would have to their child. But she loved Abel regardless.

And as for Lucifer, he has no knowledge of Abel being his son neither does he hold any feelings for Adam. He remembers nothing.

The moment Adam dies however, Lucifer regains his memories, immediately, his heart shattered into pieces. And also, he so desperately wants to reconnect with his son afterwards.

[soldearestsoulmate]

Character + Prompt/Request:

Sol x GN!Reader, for the beginning, then Sol and GN!Reader (spoiler. you break up)

One angsty torturing of Sol coming right up! pfff <3 (More could of been added to this...A continuation? Maybe Reader comes back...Even after all the red flags there, and suspecting what was done...What if they still come back? Only time may tell. lol)

Warnings: Attempted drugging with sleeping pills, manipulation, toxic relationship.

“Why would you put so much hope in me? Things have clearly never worked out for me!”

Rarely he rose his voice at you, unless he really was affected by his emotions, which clearly he was right now.

You've heard him say this before though, done this before. Over and over again, things go well, then they fall, then you work to try to rebuild it all with him, for him.

You loved him, you did. Cared for him deeply. But everyone has their limits, and you finally reached yours.

"You're right...They haven't, and maybe it's a sign this won't work out after all." His eyes widened at your words. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out at first. Then he started to panic, you could see it clearly, he quickly grabbed your hands, with pleading eyes.

"NO! THIS WILL WORK! IT WILL! IT HAS TO! YOU'RE MY SOULMATE AFTER ALL! WE'RE MEANT TO BE!" You felt his hold tighten, it was starting to hurt...

"Sol...Maybe you've been wrong though? What kind of soulmate can't make their love truly happy?...Help them with their problems when needed most? Make them more happy than sad, and feel more love than sorrow? That's no soulmate...at least one you deserve. You deserve better."

"No no no please don't say that. Don't believe any of that. I'm sorry! I'm sorry I keep screwing this up! I keep making it hard for you, for us! But I'll try, I'm trying! I'll do better. I'll--I'll try therapy again. I'll talk to Hyugo and--"

"And what? We repeat this all over again? Sol...Please...You know we've been hanging on by a thread for too long...I love you, I really do but...I love you too much to keep making you suffer like this...I...I can't stand to see you hurt anymore...And I know I'm mostly to blame for it all..."

"NO! YOU'RE NOT! IT'S HIS FAULT! ALL ICHABOD'S FAULT! EVEN AFTER RIDDING OF HIM HE STILL--"

"...What?"

Sol let his grip go, taking a step back, realizing what he said. "I mean...I..."

"Sol...What about Crowe? What do you mean 'ridding of him'?"

"P-pumpkin...I can explain. Let me just--" Sol attempted to hold your hands again but you stepped back, moved away from him. Eyes widened in confusion and fear.

"...What happened to Crowe? Solivan, god help me if you did something to him--"

"Pumpkin please! I swear it's not like that! Just let me explain and--"

"Then explain right now what happened to him. Explain or I will call the cops." Sol felt his heart skip a beat and tighten from your threat. Yet he forced a smile, trying to act calm.

"Of course...But let me please make you a drink, some tea, it'll help calm you while I explain...Okay? Please..." Sol's pleading eyes never failed to have a affect on you...So you nodded and let him go get that drink for you.

As Sol left the room, he texted Hyugo, a simple text, saying "They found out." sent out and then he put the phone away to focus on you.

He went to the kitchen to prepare that tea he promised, but pulled out something he thought he'll never have to use again.

"...You just need some sleep, pumpkin. I promise you. It'll all be better soon." He softly said this as he mixed in the pills into your drink. Then looked at the drink in his hands. He knew this had to be done, but wished it didn't come to this again. "I'll make this better again. I promise..."

After a moment of making peace with this decision with himself, he made his way back to the room where you were at.

"Here you go, pumpkin. One warm cup of tea made with lov--" Sol froze as he entered the room, to see no sight of you. Then saw the window wide open, your one and only exit taken. He didn't even care about the cup of tea he dropped, that both shattered and spilled over his shoes.

All he was focused on now was running to the window, to look around outside, in hopes of seeing you but you were nowhere to be found.

"PUMPKIN?! Y/N!" His breathing quickened, his heart raced, he felt his panic rising more as he started to pace the room. Looking for a sign of where you could of went. He even flipped the house upside down for a possible chance of finding you, hoping you were just hiding but you weren't there. You were gone.

Then with trembling hands he grabbed his phone to try to call Hyugo but kept messing up. He was scared, not over you getting the cops after him though. He was scared of losing you, of you being away from him.

He wasn't thinking straight anymore. He left the house in a panic now to look for you, to find you and bring you back home. To make this all right, but you wouldn't be found...Not anytime soon that is...

So he'll just run, and search for you for hours, calling you out, begging and pleading for you to come back. All while he ignores Hyugo's panicked texts and calls...

[star2fishmeg]

Aahhh congratz on reaching 1k! Can I get scenario # 127. Situationship/friends with benefits but it’s unrequited feelings with Luke Hughes.

Thank you for requesting <3

SCENARIO #127 Situationship/fwb but it's unrequited feelings

📞 dialling…

Sometimes people just need a break from everyone. Sometimes people just need a break from themselves and the whirlwind of their mind. Y/n and Luke thought so as they let the night’s chill slap them across their cheeks with the party in the house behind them, the back porch surprisingly vacant. The air between sat thick, unresolved somethings jumbled up but the bravery to break down the barriers locked away in hearts protected by walls of their own. 

Luke was the first to speak up in their silent company, his hat backwards and eyes softly set on her. “Are you seeing anyone else?”

“No, why?” she turned to him, arms loosely folded over the wooden railing. The small slither of excitement painfully bubbled in her stomach, the hope of resolve.

He shrugged, looking away and out into the yard, not that there was a lot to look at, just ratty grass with plastic garden furniture and a couple of bicycles, abandoned. He knew he had to pursue, rid of that horrible, anxious feeling that consumed him, kept him up at night but she was undeniably the best woman he’d ever met in his young life and losing her forever because of some poorly thought-out decision killed him slower than bleeding out onto the porch.

“Just wondering.” He paused, leaning forward onto his arms against the railing, mirroring y/n. “Why aren’t you…seeing anyone else? Like, you’re not even talking or?”

She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, desperation filling her senses, but she knew, and she knew too well how he fumbled over his feelings. How he could never spit it out and hoped she’d pick up his gist but at times like those, nothing boiled her blood more.

“I dunno, just haven’t met anyone else, I guess. You?” She lied, voice clipping ever so slightly.

That horrible, nauseous feeling spread through him violently, guilt-ridden and sweat dribbling down his neck.

“Uh, no, too busy, y’know. You, um, remember the agreement…righ-”

Pushing off the railing she folded her arms, turning to face him abruptly with wet eyes, “-Luke, of course I do. You said no feelings because you’re heading to New Jersey soon.”

“Yeah, I know that. I don’t have any strings, was just making sure you didn’t. We’re friends.”

“Yeah, friends.” Heart aching and sinking into the bottomless pit of the truth, she leant her shoulder against the pillar, arms remaining folded. “Whoever you do fall in love with though, one day, is one lucky girl.”

“Yeah, because she’ll be dating a rich athlete-” his laughed rumbled through his chest, tilting his head back to her but she was already looking at him. 

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, “-not what I meant.” 

“Well, what other reasons are there?”

A short silence pushed them apart, like a wedge between them. Y/n hoped he couldn’t notice the tears pricking the corners of her eyes, her heart hammering in her chest and she swallowed, a lump choking her and she loathed him. Herself. The situation. If she could have screamed at the top of her lungs right then and there, she would have. And she would hope he’d pull her into his chest and stroke her hair, cooing to her about how it would be okay.

“I don’t think you want to hear them, yet. Not from me, at least.” She sniffed, shaking her head slowly, her eyes burning into his, pushing off the pillar and stepping towards the backdoor.

Luke swung around, hand grasping her bicep desperately, his gut setting sirens off in his head and now he’d pried, pried too far that he had to know whether it would kill him or not. He needed to know if he’d made the worst decision of his life. 

“No, y/n, tell me, why would she be lucky? You can’t just drop that and not elaborate. We’re friends, y/n, you can tell me anything.” He didn’t raise his voice, but it was firm, not enough to frighten her but strained as if he were fighting his own set of demons.

“No, it’s doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it…” her lips pulled into a sad smile, and even Luke could see that. His eyes pleaded, glassy with eyebrows pulled, shoulders slumped and mouth faltering. She was a weak woman to him, and as much as it pained her, she inhaled and let out a shaky breath, “...you’re so much more than a hockey player. But I shouldn’t be the person telling you that. You’re kind with a comforting warmth, you draw people in with your charisma and you’re the best fucking company I’ve ever had but the person you love should be giving their heart to you. I’m just a friend who fucks you.”

Her arm felt cold again, the absence of his hand dearly despised but it was for the better. Luke’s exhaled, running his hand over his hat and placing his hand on his hip. He remembered their agreement, he couldn’t feel anything, that’s what he’d been trying to do but deep some in some crevice somewhere, he knew he couldn’t do better than her. He shouldn’t have offered to be friends with benefits in the first place, he would still have her then. In another universe, maybe they would have worked out, for real. Real feelings with a real commitment and now all he did was watch her punish herself for loving him for who he was as a person. 

She turned, voice shaking and strained, “You can come find me when you’re drunk enough, and we’ve forgotten this conversation. You know I’ll give you the best night of your life.

”Luke watched her disappear from his sight, back into the house and he sighed deeply. Y/n loved him, and if he wasn’t leaving for New Jersey, a part of him believed that he could have loved her too.

[highbabyofthenightcourt]

To say that Azriel only feels lust for Elain, because of the bonus chapter, is irrational. From the moment Azriel met Elain, their relationship has been building a solid foundation. Their conversations had substance. She asked about his wings even though it was not relevant at all. He showed her such a gentle side of himself in an attempt to make her feel calm around him, even speaking poetically “we are born hearing the song of the wind.”

When Elain was taken to the cauldron as a human, Azriel was unconscious because of hybern’s arrow. He did not see what was happening and part of me believes that it is because it would be too much of a spoiler for their story, similar to the way Cassian’s reaction for Nesta was a give away of them ending up together.

After the sisters were made, once Feyre decides to take them to the town house, we have the scene between Elain and Azriel where he asks her if she wants to see the garden. Noting that he knew and remembered that she liked flowers. And Elain, does not balk from him, takes his arm and marvels at his scarred hands. She is not afraid of him. Not at all. She accepts his touch and finds beauty in him, even in her broken state.

Once she starts behaving abnormally with her new abilities, everyone assumes she is unwell. Even her mate. The only person who realizes she is a seer is Azriel. Which is interesting timing considering Madja’s words of mates knowing what is amiss with one another.

In the meantime there’s a lot of moments where we can see that Elain and Azriel enjoy spending time together. He lays in the garden reading work reports while she gardens. Feyre mentions that Elain clings to him for comfort in social settings. Even Nesta does not protest to their proximity. It’s logical to assume there are reasons for this.

When the cauldron lures Elain away, the only person who realizes that she is missing is Azriel. He is adamant that he will get her back. This is reminiscent of Rhysand’s attempt to kill Amarantha, and Cassian’s crawling to Nesta when she was to be thrown in the cauldron. He does not care if he will die. This could be taken as him just doing his job, but once they are back to safety and he is horribly injured, he still does not put Elain down from his arms. She has to be taken from him.

Fast forwarding, we see that Azriel has become very jealous of her mate being near Elain. We see that Azriel has spent his time trying to find her a necklace perfect for her. For a year, he has fallen asleep looking at the gift she had gotten him. Once Rhysand interrupted them and she returned his present, he had to be rid of it because he couldn’t bare to have it as a reminder of the pain of that night. He questioned the deity that decided he couldn’t be with her.

To say that all of this is dismissed by the fact that he is also physically attracted to her is ridiculous. To argue that this is true because he hadn’t “planned what to do afterwards” is nonsense. Attraction is actually enlarged by feelings of love. And he didn’t “plan” what he was going to do about it because 1. He had given her the space to be with another 2. He felt that he wasn’t good enough for her 3. Because he didn’t know if she felt the same 4. Because there is a God-like power who is against it. But all of this became irrelevant once he had her before him, once she knew she wanted him, too, once he knew she was aroused by a simple act of his.

And also, i would like to point out that Azriel never tried to initiate contact with Elain. Ever. And he probably never would. He said there was never unrestricted contact between them. She was the one to want his hands on her. She was the one to whisper “yes” to him. Because she wants him, too. She wants him innocently and sexually and romantically, and as does he. Nothing anyone says will discredit all the beautiful build up behind Elriel 💞💞🌸🌸🦇🦇🫶🏼🫶🏼

[roetrolls]

So. Limes.

I think because we never see living limes in the comic, a lot of people remember Calliope's blood color and assume that's what lime was before they were wiped out.

BUT!

We do actually get to see the lime caste's hue in the comic

It's not neon!!!

And I personally headcanon that, after being removed from the gene pool, lime eventually just... came back. Gold and olive cusped enough times to reproduce the lime caste.

I imagine that at first, it was still compulsory to get rid of any lime grubs that appeared, but eventually the empire realized it was a futile effort, and if limes started leaking out of the caverns it was going to look really bad for them-- if lowbloods saw that an imperial law could be evaded, what would stop them from trying harder to rebel?

So to save face, the empire acted like this was what they meant to do. The pacifying powers typical of the caste were far less common now, so sure. Limes can return to the population. That was actually our goal the whole time, see?

Because the caste is still repopulating, it's common to see limebloods with other mutations-- they're especially more likely than other castes to have white hair, for example. Due to this and the stigma surrounding their blood color, many find roles within the Fleet or other high-ranking bodies to gain options and protection.

Modern day limes are still looked upon with derision and disdain, denied opportunities, and culled in some caverns, but they are no longer being hunted at large.

[yezhi1k]

Flowers & Cherries chp.1 (Jinx x Reader)

Notes: honestly this was just going to be a quick smutty fanfic but suddenly it turned into a whole thing. So uh... enjoy my shitty writing maybe? Smut will come in a future chapter :P. Also if you prefer reading on AO3, my name is MisanthropicMoose.

Summary: trying to survive after losing your parents, you start working for Smeech, eventually becoming his right hand. As you work yourself to the bone trying to keep your gang afloat, you help Silco strike a deal with Smeech, and meet his adopted daughter, Jinx. A friendship starts between you. Will it become more? (yes it will)

Tags: Jinx x reader, female reader, slightly older reader, first meeting, SFW, swearing.

Smeech has always been uncooperative. Extremely, stupidly uncooperative. Sure, he was one of the many crime lords in the Undercity, and so some harshness in his dealings was necessary if he was to protect his interests. But most and foremost he was a chem baron, a man of business. And business hinged on compromise.

You have tried to get this across many times. As Smeech’s right hand, you felt it was your responsibility to ensure the safety and flourishing of your group. You weren’t particularly attached to or fond of Smeech or any of his goons, but they found you and gave you shelter when you had nothing. Were nothing. Standing in the rubble of your home fissure, senselessly destroyed by Enforcers as they conducted another raid, allegedly in an attempt to rid the city of gangs, the leader of one of these very gangs offered you a deal you were in no position to refuse.

“Work for me. In exchange, you live.”

That day, you chose to live. Initially you were just another goon, doing Smeech’s dirty work for him. Being a young girl, you often acted as bait. Finding men who owed Smeech money in grimy bars, shooting them flirtatious glances, biting your lip as you let them buy you a drink. After some time of “pleasant”, in their opinion, conversation, during which you let them place their hand on the small of your back which inevitably always started inching lower, you leant in close to their ears, trying to ignore the stench of alcohol emanating from them.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

No one ever refused. A stupid, drunk grin would spread across their stupid, drunk faces and they would follow you out the door, eagerly pushing through the crowd, scared to lose sight of you. Desperate dogs. They followed you into the nearest dark alleyway, and as you turned to them, snaking your hands around their neck and pulling them close, a knife would find its way into the side of their abdomen. Or a bullet would pierce the side of their skull, narrowly missing you. These men often died with their hands on their belt buckles.

Although you didn’t enjoy playing the part of a vixen, you were grateful that over the years you’ve never had to go through with the operation all the way. As much of an asshole as Smeech was, he never pimped you out, not to his victims, not to his goons. Maybe because you broke the arm of the first goon that tried to touch your ass on the very first day you joined Smeech’s gang, he decided that he would get more use out of you as a goon rather than a call girl. That arrangement suited you fine.

Over time, you graduated from bait to hunter. The combination of your harmless appearance and your strength and agility, which you had to develop if you were to survive in the crime scene of the Undercity, made you a lethal weapon. Many evenings at the Last Drop were interrupted by one of the goons tapping you on the shoulder, eliciting an annoyed groan from you. They would just look at you, meek and apologetic.

“Again?”

“Yeah… sorry.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“He asked for you specifically.”

And you would have no choice but to gulp down the last of your drink, toss a couple of coins on the bench and sneak off into the night, grumbling away.

You would barge into his office without knocking. The more Smeech relied on you, the less you entertained the concept of good manners. You felt that it was your right at this point. Smeech would then give you your instructions, and you would storm out, not even trying to hide your frustration. Another ruined night out. All because apparently there wasn’t a single other fucking person in this fucking gang who can get a fucking job done cleanly and quickly.

More time passed, and the situation got even more dire. Smeech would start sending you out to negotiate with those he didn’t feel like killing yet.

“Smeech you have gotten to be fucking kidding. I am spreading myself thin with all of the assassinations you are assigning me as is, now you want me to go to fucking meetings for you?”

But you had no choice. You could run away, realistically speaking. Smeech and his goons have gotten so lazy and incompetent over the time you’ve been with them that they wouldn’t be able to find you if they tried. But what would you do? How would you make a living? No legitimate place would hire you, now that your face was plastered on every third wanted poster, and joining another gang seemed pointless and an unnecessary risk. Smeech was a lazy, selfish asshole, but he was a familiar evil. You knew him, knew what to expect, you could stand your ground with him. Another gang would be unpredictable. And so, you would put on the most presentable clothing you had, commonly consisting of a simple pair of grey trousers and a button down, and went to sit in a stuffy meeting with the other lazy, incompetent, stupid chem barons.  

Without a doubt, you were a better negotiator than Smeech. For the first couple of meetings, you were quiet, observing, collecting intel on everyone in the room, feeling for soft spots. Some were insufferable cowards and would pay any amount to just be left alone. Some had an affliction for alcohol, shimmer, sex. Commodities that could be traded or withheld depending on the situation. You had them figured out early on, for the most part getting to set your own rules without them even realizing.

But there was one you couldn’t crack. A pale man with one side of his face all scarred up, a black abyss of an eye with a flickering orange center replacing his, originally blue, left eye. The crime lord of the Undercity. Silco.

He also sat quietly, mostly listening to the brainless chatter of the others. Taking in and analyzing these blabbering fools in the same way you had. Letting more smoke than words slip past his scarred lips as his good eye focused on someone in particular, whilst the black one seemed to stare at everyone at once. The first time you showed up he stared at you for a while, measuring you up, trying to map out your weaknesses in the same way you tried to map out his. It sent a chill down your spine, and you felt a little nauseous. You haven’t felt genuine fear in a while by that point, and he brought that feeling right back. It sat as an unswallowable lump at the base of your throat as you tried to seem cool and collected.

Every meeting ended the same. Silco would bring his palm down on the table, letting the smack reverberate throughout the room as everyone quieted down. When it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, he would address everyone one by one, announcing his final terms. These were not up for debate. Not until the next meeting, anyway. This was an unspoken rule, which was to be obeyed if you wanted to stay alive to participate in the next meeting.

The first couple of meetings he skipped you in his final address. He didn’t have much to say to you, you haven’t worked up the courage to try to negotiate with him yet. As the gaze of his blue eye inched closer to you, you unconsciously held your breath. And as it skimmed over you without as much as a hitch, you slowly exhaled, wiping your suddenly sweaty palms on the sides of your “nice” trousers.

Until, suddenly, your luck ran out. And, at the end of another meeting, you found yourself staring right into both eyes, black and blue. He said nothing for a moment, and your brain started racing, spinning, screaming, trying to figure out what you did or said that made him mad at you. At the time, that seemed like the only explanation for his newfound interest in you. You fucked up. And now either you will suffer for your sins alone, or he will bring Smeech and others down as well. Will you fight him? Will you claw and beg for your life, or will you go with dignity? Will he allow you even a shred of dignity?

“Can you stay behind for a moment?”

That’s it. That’s it that’s it that’s it he will murder me in this very room leave my corpse as a warning for others oh my G-

“Of course”, you managed to squeak out. In this moment you accepted the fact that you were going to die, most likely a brutal, theatrical death, just like everyone knew Silco liked.

In the meantime, all of the other chem barons shuffled out of the room, some even shooting you an empathetic glance. They would miss you; you made them some pretty good deals, they thought.

You and Silco were alone in the meeting room, sitting opposite one another at the round table, which suddenly felt so big and baren. You watched intently as Silco ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back, before pulling another cigar out of his breast pocket. A guillotine always sat at the table, just for his cigars. As he brought it up to the end of the cigar, he looked up at you again. You were silent, and so was he. The silence was only interrupted by the sound of the cigar end being sliced. You held your breath.

Suddenly, in a move you did not anticipate, he stretched out his arm and brought the cigar closer to you in an offering gesture. You looked at it, then up at him, and the confusing must have been written all over your face. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a barely visible ghost of a smile.

“Care for a smoke?”

As the words registered in your head, you got even more confused. Why was he being nice? Why was he offering you a cigar, one of his nice cigars at that? Was this some kind of weird foreplay before he bashed your skull in?

“No, thank you. I don’t smoke”, you tried to steady your voice. If he wanted to play intimidation games, you were not going to give him the satisfaction of intimidating you. You forced your tense shoulders to drop, your jaw to relax. Be cool, be cool. Accept your fate with dignity.

Silco cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, seemingly amused by your internal battling. His blue eye suddenly glistened in a way that was almost friendly.

“Probably for the better,” he placed the cigar between his teeth and started feeling around his pockets for a lighter, not managing to find one. You always carried one just in case, and as you brought the light close to his face and he leaned in with an appreciative expression on his face, a spark of hope lit up in your heart. Maybe he didn’t want to kill you? Maybe it was something else?

Silco inhaled the smoke deeply, letting it out slowly through his mouth as he leaned back in his high back chair. His blue eye found you again, and the glowing ambers of hope in you got smothered out.

“Jinx went on a prowl to Piltover the other week,” he started. You furrowed your eyebrows. Why was he bringing up Jinx?

You knew of Jinx, everyone did. Silco’s pride and joy, adopted daughter, only weakness. A true wild card. The mere sight of her electric blue hair struck fear into the hearts of the most rugged goons.

You’ve seen her once before, at the Last Drop. She sat at the bar, legs hanging from the bar stool which was way too tall for her, kicking the air, chatting away with a visibly uncomfortable bartender. You remembered your eyes traveling from the crown of her head, down the long blue braids and the nape of her neck, lingering on her exposed back. She was a small girl, a couple of years younger than you. You remember wondering how it was that although she was constantly at the epicenter of explosions and fires, her skin remained so silky and smooth, seemingly unmarred by scars or any kind of blemishes.

“She likes going up there. Always brings back something curious,” Silco’s words interrupted your reminiscence of Jinx, and you brought your attention back to him. What were you doing? Ah, yes, he was going on some monologue before murdering you.

Silco put both elbows on the table and leaned forward a little bit. Your breath hitched.

“She brought a book from there last time. On medicine and such. Said the most curious things. They are saying smoking is bad for you, can you believe?” with that, he inhaled a full chest of cigar smoke, leaned even closer to you and breathed it out into your face. Your vision was clouded by the thick smoke, and you couldn’t help but cough. So, you thought, he decided to disorientate you before striking. Smart.

But as the air cleared, you saw that he didn’t move. He was sitting in the same spot, leaning onto the back of the chair. You started to get annoyed. Why was he toying with you like this? Did he want you to get angry? Was he some freak that liked it when people fought back, and you were being no fun?

Whatever, you thought. Your fate is sealed anyway. Might as well have a chat with the man you have been terrified of your whole life.

“With all due respect,” you started, cocking your head to the side in the same way he had minutes prior, “I reckon, with your line of work, it won’t be smoking that will do you in”.

Silco’s ghost of a smile got slightly wider. The blazing orange flame in the depths of his black eye charred your soul. You wondered if you overstepped.

“Don’t you mean, our line of work?” he asked. There was a tinge of amusement in his voice. He was obviously toying with you.

You relaxed your shoulders more and leaned back onto your own chair.

“It’s not the same for you and me. No one pays me any mind, really. You, however, are a much sought-after prize.”

Silco raised an eyebrow.

“You are selling yourself short. From what I hear, Smeech has been finding you awfully useful. You are practically keeping his whole operation afloat.”

Your neck muscles tensed up again. That’s it. Smeech did something to piss Silco off, and now he is going to kill you. Take away his best weapon. Make him helpless, like a baby bird. Smart.

Before you could answer, Silco continued.

“That is exactly what I wanted to discuss with you, actually,” his blue eye found yours again, “I have been trying to strike up a deal with Smeech. Profitable for both of us, slightly more profitable for me than him, I’ll admit. But still, I think it’s fair. He, however, has not been very… cooperative”.

You blinked. He was talking about… business? He strung you up, made you mentally sign your will, and now he wants to negotiate… deals?

You swallowed thick saliva that collected at the back of your throat. Alright. Business it is then.

“What is the deal?” you asked.

And so, your very first real meeting with Silco began. He wanted Smeech and his goons to provide protection for one of his shimmer transportation routes, which was infamously infested with Firelights. In return, he would pay half in money, half in shimmer. You perfectly understood that he would make a lot if that specific route was secured, and he could pay Smeech a lot more than what he was offering. But he was also offering shimmer. And not just any shimmer; the newest, most potent and at the same time safest strand available. Smeech was too dense to understand the true value of such a product, valuing money over everything. But you knew. It was a good deal. After some hours of ironing out the final details, you and Silco shook on it. As his cold hand grasped yours, you almost weren’t scared anymore. Almost. You knew better than to get too comfortable.

Over the next week you chipped away at Smeech. You knew that you had to work some persuasion magic on him, he wouldn’t agree immediately. But you were patient. You brought it up any chance you could, telling him about the superhuman strength you’ve seen other people obtain through that shimmer. Casually dropping that that strand is incredibly exclusive, not even for sale on the wider market yet, available only to the elites. You worked him thoroughly. Half because you understood the value it would bring to your gang, half because you were terrified at what Silco would do to you if you failed.

But you didn’t have to find out. Smeech caved, and even went to the next meeting to seal the deal with Silco himself. You waited outside. As all the chem barons strolled out of the meeting room, you got more and more nervous. All Smeech had to do was tell Silco yes, but you knew Smeech. He could fuck even that up.

You let out a breath of relief as you saw Smeech and Silco walk out of the room. The man and the yordle shook hands, both looking pleased, each convinced they outsmarted the other. As Smeech passed you, he put a mechanical claw on your shoulder.

“Take the evening off. Promise not to bother you with any jobs.”

You nodded, and watched Smeech stroll away, mechanical legs squeaking. As you turned on your heels to go enjoy your first night off in months, you came face to face with Silco, almost running into him. Before your blood ran cold again, he gave you a small, genuine looking smile.

“Thank you. I owe you a favor.”  

You opened your mouth to offer your share of pleasantries, but suddenly you and Silco both became engulfed in a whirlwind of blue. Blue hair.

“Silco!” a slightly raspy, melodic voice exclaimed. As your eyes came into focus again, you saw a short, slim female figure sporting two long blue braids hanging off Silco’s arm. You watched as a warm smile spread across his face, usually a picture of stoicism. As he reached over to stroke her cheek softly. You felt a sting of long forgotten burn you from the inside; it has been years since you felt the loving touch of a parent.

“What took you so long?” Jinx asked. You studied her face. It was young, with porcelain skin, dark circles under her big blue eyes. Her long bangs swept over to the right of her face. Your eyes traveled down to her dusty rose lips. You couldn’t help but become hypnotized with her, even though you knew what kind of destruction she was capable of. In this moment though, she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. She was just a girl, happy to see her dad. You watched them chat away for a moment, unsure whether you were dismissed or not. Suddenly, Jinx’s eyes landed on you. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, her eyes darkened in an expression which was something between confusion and aggression.

“Who are you?”

Before you could answer, Silco did.

“This is Smeech’s right hand, I told you about her before. Smeech and I just made a very fruitful arrangement, she helped”.

Jinx’s face relaxed, and you could have sworn something resembling excitement ran across it. She took a step towards you, looking up at you with curious eyes.

“I’ve seen you before. You come to the Last Drop a lot,” she said, studying you. She was close now, you could feel heat radiating off her skin, smell the subtle sweetness of her hair. Warmth spread across your cheeks, and you were praying that your face hadn’t gone red. After a few moments Jinx finally stopped examining you and turned to Silco.

“Are you going back now?”

Silco shook his head, taking out another cigar.

“Unfortunately, I have some more matters to attend to.”  

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Jinx groaned, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall of the hallway, kicking it lightly, “I’m super bored. I’ve built all the weapons you asked for and Sevika is no fun today”.

The man only shrugged.

“You’re going to have to entertain yourself today I am afraid,” he puffed out some smoke and started making his way down the hallway, “I will be back by nightfall. Don’t blow Sevika up while I’m gone, please”.

And just like that, he was gone. By now you figured you could probably go and made a few steps in the direction Silco left in. Suddenly you felt a firm, warm grip on your forearm. You turned, meeting Jinx’s ocean eyes. She looked at you with a tinge of nervousness and curiosity in her eyes, the same way one approaches a new, previously undiscovered specimen.

“Before… I heard you got the evening off. Are you going to the Last Drop?” she finally asked, letting go of your arm. As the cool air enveloped your skin, you realized you missed the warmth of her touch.

“Yeah, I was headed there. Just wanted to stop by my place and change,” you said. Jinx’s eyes shifted, and she picked at the nail of her index finger with her thumb.

“Do you reckon I could come with you? I just have absolutely nothing going on.”

You shrugged, a little hurt that she made it so obvious you were her last resort. But then again, you only just met. It made no sense to be upset.

“Yeah, no worries.”

Jinx’s face lit up, and she embraced you with a small squeak, throwing her head back to look up at you. A grin was plastered on her face.

“Good to finally have a girl friend. I guess I have Sevika, but she doesn’t like me very much.” You cocked an eyebrow at her. Friends, huh? A bit fast, but fuck it. You were excited to have a new friend too.

[desperate-daydream]

can I request Seth Clearwater x male werewolf reader

plot werewolf are apex predators to the cold ones and are very dangerous so Sam,Billy,Old Quil and Sue forbid Seth from seeing the werewolf he imprinted on but Seth sneaks out to see his imprint Sam,Billy,Old Quil,Sue and the pack soon realize Seth is with his imprint and goes to find him only to see Seth being smothered with love and affection I'm talking hugs cuddles and lots lots lots!!! of kisses everyone see the most dangerous killer is biggest softie for seth

🍎 Twilight

❀ Seth Clearwater x male (werewolf) reader ⚣︎

A/N: Thank you so much for the request. I really loved to write this and sprinkled some own (partly media inspired) ideas about werewolves in it. XD I hope you'll like it.

tags/warnings: reader is a werewolf, Seth imprinted on him, disapproval from pack and council (but don't worry I usually want a happy end)

It's our duty to protect you

“Billy! Sue!”, Sam shouted with the rest of the pack following closely while keeping a complaining Seth in the middle, “We need to get Old Quil too.” The adults were shortly confused but decided to first comply and then figure out what was the great problem this time. Sam seemed really concerned and that meant something. When everyone was gathered the pack hadn’t got out of what seemed like a formation. 

“Seth imprinted”, Sam started right away. Sue was about to congratulate her son who was still in the middle of the circle but then Sam spoke up again: ���Wait. Listen first, please.” 

“This is not fair”, the adults heard Seth saying once again. 

“He imprinted on a werewolf”, Sam continued and the rest tensed up immediately, “And even kept it from us for what I can only assume are months.” 

Sue looked at what she could spot from Seth, she couldn’t believe what she just heard. Her innocent and sweet youngest was supposed to be the soulmate of an apex predator - a creature that even the cold ones had feared so much that they tried to completely get rid of them. 

“Who is this werewolf?”, Old Quil wanted to know. “He didn’t want to tell us more”, Sam explained and turned to the pack. With a nod he signalled them to open the circle and let Seth out with Leah at his side. He didn’t want to have to hold back people of his own pack but Seth had already tried to run away several times after telling them. 

“Seth, please tell us, who are they?”, Sue put a hand on his cheek. But her son shook his head “No”. 

“Seth, werewolves are dangerous”, Billy tried then, “They’re not like us. They don’t have control over themselves. They are predators, they kill anyone in their way.”

“We don’t want you to get hurt”, Sue added. It did not help with making Seth comply but he said something at least. 

“So you’re just gonna hurt him first?!”

“Him?”, someone from the pack asked but that was not of importance for the adults at the moment. 

“It’s our duty to protect you”, Old Quil countered, “You can not see him again. I’m sorry, Seth. But it’s for your safety.” 

“No, please”, Seth’s eyes widened and his voice cracked when they filled with tears, “Please, you can’t. I- Please, he’s not dangerous. He would never hurt me.” 

Sue gave her son another look of apology. “Leah, please get your brother to his room.” 

“Make sure he doesn’t get out”, Sam added. 

After sending the rest off, with still a lot of complaints from Seth, the adults sat around the table. They had to figure out how to get around the bond of imprinting because as much as they hoped that Seth had not actually imprinted Sam had to tell them otherwise. Once Seth first told them about it, the pack had felt the connection through the telepathy link for a moment. Their kindest member had imprinted on probably the most dangerous creature known to them. 

While everyone either discussed his future or patrolled around his house, Seth sat on his bed. He held back the tears. He was pissed. So damn furious and frustrated. How could they just decide for him?! They didn’t even know what they were talking about! They didn’t know you. They didn’t know how strong your bond was. They only knew some vague legends and hearsaying. They were caught up in the fear of something and someone they didn’t actually know. 

But he was also sad. Yeah, almost disappointed. He wasn’t allowed to see you again. It hurt. So much. He had imprinted on you. And that wasn’t fresh; you had already spent a few months together. He.. loved you. And he missed you. Seth felt like he should’ve never told the pack about you. He regretted it. 

Then he came to the realization that he couldn’t stay in his room and just comply with the others. No. He decided to sneak out. 

Thanks to a bit more heightened senses he could make out where everyone was. If he climbed out of his window and ran straight towards the forest he might have a chance. 

And so he did. Seth tried to be as quiet as he could while opening the window and getting outside. He shortly checked his surroundings again and then he ran. First as a human to give himself advantage since their telepathy usually only worked in their wolf form. But then he shifted to be faster. The pack didn’t seem to have noticed yet and Seth used the very loose formation of the patrol to get by. 

It wasn’t the first time that he snuck out of his window and through the forest to get to you. That was why he found his way easily to your small cabin. It was in a neutral territory and rather hidden which was probably why no one else had found it by now - at least you and he hoped that nobody had. 

Seth turned back into his human form and knocked on the door. When you opened he was more than relieved. 

“Hey”, you greeted Seth a little clueless and made space for him to come in. Then you saw the distress on his usually soft face. “Are you okay?”, you asked after closing the door and put a hand on his cheek. He leaned into the touch and sighed deeply. 

“I told them”, Seth whispered. It still hurt how everyone had reacted and he just wanted to stop thinking which was why he fell into your offered hug. 

“Didn’t go well?”, you asked carefully while circling your scarred arms around him. You didn't have that much of a height difference but in comparison to Seth who grew more muscular every week you were as thin as a toothpick. The shifting was painful and you sometimes getting hurt on top of that - mostly because you often locked yourself in to not accidentally hurt anybody else - took so much energy off you that your body reflected it. 

You felt Seth shake his head on your shoulder and sighed too. You had warned him from the beginning. You had told him what you turned into and that it was dangerous to be around you when you were turned. You had also said that others probably wouldn’t react well to hearing about you and your condition. 

But Seth had decided to stay. He had decided to get to know you and before you realized it you fell deeply for him. His sunny and loveable behaviour, his kindness and care, his bright smile and his soft touch. 

Yeah, you’ve expressed several times that you weren’t sure if you deserved him but when he had expressed how sure he was about you you fell even more. 

“Wanna go in the garden?” Seth looked up again and smiled while nodding. Then he leaned forward and stole a little kiss from your bruised lips. You lightly chased after him for a longer kiss but he already turned around and dragged you behind him through your back door. 

You cuddled closely together on the lounger you had standing there. While your hand went soothingly through Seth’s hair you occasionally placed kisses over his cute face. He traced the dark circles beneath your eyes and when he looked at you with a little worry about it you just reassuringly kissed his hand with a smile. You were fine. More than fine now that Seth was next to you and kissed you and caressed your scars. God, you were so gone for him you would do anything he wanted. 

When you attacked him again with kisses all over his face he laughed out loud. But that moment didn’t stay for long. Suddenly you heard a voice calling out Seth’s name and then there were several people standing at the border of your garden. 

Seth braced himself for what was gonna come next. They were gonna tell him off, scold him for sneaking out to see you. But to his surprise none of that happened. He saw the council and many pack members just standing there. Some had the looks of disbelief on their faces while looking between him and you who was still holding him tightly and halfway hiding your face in his neck. 

Yeah, they didn’t expect that and Seth was a bit smug. He had told them that you wouldn’t hurt him but they just didn’t want to listen. They were officially proven wrong now because it was more than clear that you were a complete softie for him. 

In the end most of the pack even got to know you better and witnessed how much effort you put in protecting Seth as well as controlling your werewolfism. And even though she would not admit it out loud for some time, Leah recognized why you had been destined as Seth’s imprint. It seemed almost like a puzzle in Seth’s soul had been completed by being with you - a dangerous creature that was wrapped around his finger. 

[stoic--rose]

over the last two weeks or so ive played through earthbound two and a half times, and mother 1 three times. replaying both back to back repeatedly has made me realize a lot of things

1.) mother 1 is a LOT more open in what it lets you do, where it lets you go, and when. once you open up the train tracks, you're free to go do the rest of the game in pretty much any order you want. hell, you can make it all the way to R7038xx without ever getting a single melody, which i find to be pretty interesting. not only that, but you dont even need to get most of the party members. strictly speaking, the only one you truly need to get is Loid, and that's just to get rid of the rock on the train tracks. and even then, with the use of an exploit i found out about only a few days ago, you can get rid of him and go fight giygas by yourself, which is pretty funny.

2.) mother 1+2 is like, wicked impressive. nevermind the fact that they crammed earthbound onto the gba, they also packaged it with mother 1 as well, and they're both the full games. it ain't no rayman advance kinda deal either where it's a super botched port, like it's a perfectly valid way to play both games, and some people even prefer the gba version of mother 1 since it makes a couple of quality of life improvements. not to mention, they rebuilt both games from the ground up, it's not like they could emulate snes on gba. (i mean, you can emulate NES apparently, since there's that nes classic line of games for the gba, but... this is cooler.) the sound department could... definitely use some work, and the colors look pretty washed out, but there are patches to fix the colors, and if you're playing the game on a real gameboy, i think the sound is the last thing you'd be concerned about. also, apparently some people took the time to apply the earthbound script to the mother 2 half of mother 1+2, and even reprogrammed the text system to have the original fonts and make it non-monospace, which is SUPER impressive. for my second playthrough of earthbound i played it with the new fantran patch, and it's pretty damn slick.

3.) man, fuck the sword of kings. i realized very recently that i'd never fully committed to the sword of kings grind, and decided that this would finally be the time i claim my birth right as a mother fan and do it. and like, it SUCKS. i mean, to begin, yes it's annoying that it's a 1/128 chance, but it goes deeper than that. the fact that it's only dropped by an enemy that you can potentially never see again, and it's the ONLY item poo can equip as a weapon is pretty fucked up. not to mention, the other enemies that they put in the starman base just absolutely suck, i hate the nuclear power robots so much. they made the grind WAY more painful than it already would have been otherwise. at the very least, i find it to be very gracious that jeff's spy command has the secondary effect of letting you steal whatever item an enemy would have dropped mid battle, just so it doesn't get overwritten by another enemy drop, which by the way YES that can happen, and YES i had it happen to me. it sucks ass. and the worst part is, the sword of kings isn't even that good!! and neither is poo on a gameplay level! you get the guy way later than any other party member, he has all these little catches like not being able to eat american food or equip anything but the kingly items, he gets taken away from you almost immediately after you get him, he just feels really weird. starstorm is pretty cool, but you only get the omega version right before the final area, and you can only use it on the handful of encounters you get there since you can't really use it in the final boss. (i mean technically you can use it in the first phase, if you want to get a biblical reflected beatdown when it hits both pokey and giygas) idk, the guy just isn't all that useful, and it's unfortunate since i really like him on a design level.

i have more words i want to say but honestly i might save them for an entry on my website instead since im very close to the tumblr word limit rn