#to live in a world where people think he and his brother are assholes????!!!!! it disgusts me

[finndoesntwantthis]

Anyway I’m thinking about baby 19 year old Matt Jackson being told by one of his heroes that not only is that hero gay, but that he has a crush on him, and that young, young, young man taking that into his heart, telling his hero he still loves him, and continuing to be there for him during terrifying mental health scares to the end. To have to take on those things he’s never experienced at such a young age and to have grown into an even more empathetic and sweet human being…Matt is one of the good ones 🥺

[turcott3]

safety net

jack hughes x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, semi slow burn, a kiss, angst and some fluff ofc

positions masterlist!

~trippin’ fallin’ with no safety net~

-

you made your way into the bar, as it was your first weekend living in jersey. you walk in and head straight to the counter, asking for a drink that was sweet and didn’t taste too strongly of alcohol.

“hey stranger.” a voice says to your right and you turn your head.

“dawson?” you say, your eyes widening.

“hey y/n.” he says opening his arms for you to hug him, which you gladly accept.

“how have you been? oh my gosh it’s been what like 3 years.” you say smiling at your old school friend.

“i’ve been good, playing hockey here is fucking awesome.” he says.

“yes! that’s right you play for the devils, how could i forget you getting drafted!” the two of you laugh.

“well how’s your boyfriend? haven’t seen him in a few years either.” he asks curiously.

“funny you should ask, i broke up with him and that’s why i moved here.”

“wait really? why? you don’t have to explain if you’re not comfortable.” the brunette boy asks leaning on the counter.

“well things were so great when we started dating our senior year but within the last year he became a real fucking asshole, so i broke it off and moved away so he couldn’t try to find me and sucker me into being with him again.” you explain, leaving out any details you weren’t ready to share.

“well shit, i’m sorry y/n. i bet that hurt a lot.”

“it did but i’m over it, ready to find someone else.” you say and you practically see the light bulb turn on over his head.

“i think i have someone i want you to meet.” he smirks. you grab your drink and follow close behind him, holding onto his arm.

“hey jack!” dawson says to a brunette boy with bright blue eyes.

“what’s up daws, who’s this?” he says looking at you. you release dawson’s arm and give him a smile.

“jack this is y/n, y/n this is jack.” he says looking between you two.

“nice to meet you, jack.” you say.

“yeah, you too.” he smiles, causing a blush to burn in your cheeks.

“i have to go to the bathroom, you two have fun. don’t get too drunk.” he says giggling and walking off to the bathroom.

“so y/n, what brings you to jersey?” he asks.

“just needed a change of scenery from my hometown. dawson and i went to highschool together.” you tell him.

“oh wow, small world. are you still new to living here or?”

“yeah this is only my first weekend but i’m glad im already meeting people, it was getting pretty lonely.” you laugh.

“well now that you’ve reconnected with dawson, you have a whole new group of people to hang out with.”

“oh are you guys like on the same team?” you ask.

“yeah we are, my brothers around here somewhere. probably tongue deep in some random girl.” he laughs.

“is he older or younger?”

“younger.” he says taking a sip of his drink.

“oh nice.” you smile doing the same.

“can i get your number?” he asks.

“yeah of course.” you say as he hands you his phone.

“what have i missed?” a tall, curly haired boy asks.

“ah yes, y/n, this is my brother luke.”

“nice to meet you.” you say.

“nice to meet you too.” he replies.

“so where were you?” jack asks as i hand him his phone back.

“i was talking to john but i didn’t wanna ruin his game so i came back.” he laughs.

“johnny getting some ladies?”

“he sure was.” luke laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

“i see you’ve met the other one.” dawson says returning from the bathroom.

“yes i have.” i laugh at him. you spent the next 2 hours with the boys, enjoying their presence and the fact that you’d made some friends in your new town.

“well i think im gonna call it a night.” you say taking the final sip of your drink.

“let me walk you?” jack asks.

“yeah sure.” you accept and the two of you make your way out of the bar.

“did you walk here or drive?” he asks stopping once you made it outside.

“oh i walked, i live like two blocks away.”

“okay cool, show me the way.” he says.

“jack you don’t have to.”

“i’m not letting you walk back to your apartment by yourself at midnight in a big city y/n.” he says firmly.

“oh, thank you.” you blush and begin your walk to your apartment. the walk was filled with small talk and laughter, the chemistry between you two growing more and more with seemingly every step.

“well this is my place.” you say arriving at your door.

“alright, have a good night y/n. i’ll text you.” he says as you pull him in for a side hug.

“goodnight jack.” you say shutting the door behind you. it’s been 5 days and you already have a crush on someone you just met. it felt almost wrong. you had broken up with your boyfriend just two weeks ago. you couldn’t allow yourself to move on too quickly. your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you see that dawson had texted you.

dawson: glad you made it back safe!

y/n: thank you! except really you can thank jack

dawson: hahaha well i guess so🙄 have a good night y/n

y/n: you too, see you again soon?

dawson: yes for sure, season starts in like a month and a half i’m sure you’ll get sick of seeing me

y/n: doubt it

dawson: only bc ill bring jack

y/n: bitch

dawson: i’m messing with you lmaooooo goodnight y/n

y/n: goodnight daws😭

-

you woke up the next morning to a text from jack saying good morning, to which you replied with a simple, good morning. texting a new guy felt so wrong. you didn’t know what to do about it but you couldn’t ghost him so you figure you should just keep chatting and see what happens.

“lunch?” you say reading his next text. the boy asked you to lunch, to which you hesitantly agreed to join him. you made yourself a small breakfast to tide you until lunch. you sat on the couch watching tv, growing more nervous by the second. he didn’t ask you on a date, just lunch. maybe he just wants to be friends? after you ate, you put on a casual outfit and added a natural touch to your makeup. he texted the address and you left your apartment, hoping to arrive after him. once you arrive at the, what appears to be, small coffee shop, you’re greeted by jack smiling at the counter.

“sorry i’m a little late.” you laugh nervously.

“no don’t worry, i was just about to order. what do you want?”

“oh jack you don’t have to pay i can’t wait in line.” you say.

“now what kind of man would i be to let a pretty girl like you wait in line and pay for her own food?” he says boldly, a blush creeping up on your cheeks.

“an iced vanilla latte and a buttered croissant is good then.” you simply reply, finding a seat at a table by a large window. he meets you soon after, with a table number in his hand.

“you ever been here before?” he asks, noticing you staring out the window.

“i haven’t, i didn’t even know it was here until you told me about it.” you say redirecting your attention to the boy who already had his eyes on you.

“i come here sometimes, it’s like my special little spot for special occasions.” he smiles leaning back in his chair.

“what’s so special about this occasion?” you question, wanting real answers.

“it’s our first date.” he smirks causing your face to burn bright red.

“well i guess it is isn’t it.” you laugh.

-

once you arrive back at your apartment, you throw your purse to the side and kick off your shoes.

“what have i done? what do i do? oh fuck me, i can’t do this.” you say, that piece of your heart never healing from your past relationship. you couldn’t let go of the mistrust you felt. you never wanted to make the same mistake again, so you called dawson.

“hello?” you speak when he picks up.

“hey y/n, what’s up?”

“can you come over, i need advice.”

“yeah of course, send me your address and i’ll be there.”

“thank you so much, bye daws.” you say hanging up and sending him your address. you sat on your couch almost in a panic. you told yourself over and over to not do this again, especially this soon. a short 10 minutes later, you hear a knock on your door and you open it to see dawson standing there in his sweats.

“did i wake you from a nap?” you laugh.

“yes actually you did, but it’s okay, what’s up?” he says stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

“jack is what’s up.”

“oh?” he says plopping down on my couch.

“so we went out to lunch, he called it our first date.” you say.

“okay what’s the problem with that?” he says.

“you’re not understanding, my ex and i broke up what 3 weeks ago? i can’t move on, how do i know i can trust him?”

“y/n, jacks a nice guy, i wouldn’t have introduced you two if i thought otherwise.”

“i just think it’s too soon dawson.”

“relax, calm down, chill out.” he says standing up and placing his hands on your biceps.

“how am i supposed to be calm?”

“y/n, no one is rushing you into a relationship. you are not committed to the guy, you went on ONE date. you aren’t married to him, just relax. i know it’s hard, i don’t know all the details of your break up but obviously you let your mistrust cloud your vision of good people. i wouldn’t let you go down a dark rabbit hole, and you know that.” he says calming your nerves. dawson always had a way of getting to you and calming you down when necessary, even though it had been years since you last saw the boy.

“okay you’re right.” you say sighing.

“and you don’t have to worry, he’s leaving to go to michigan for a couple days tomorrow, so you can spend time away from him and just texting, so you can get to know him better without it being to serious for you.” he adds.

“perfect.” you laugh.

“now why don’t we chill out and watch a movie, you’re clearly stressed and i want you to clear your mind.” he states, grabbing the remote and switching on the tv. after a couple hours, dawson heads home, leaving you alone with nothing but your phone.

jack: hey i’m headed to michigan tmrw morning, hang when im back?

y/n: yes for sure!

jack: ok awesome, see you then

y/n: *loved a message*

you sat with your thoughts. you were terrified of the possibilities with jack, you couldn’t help it. it’s like your brain had been hardwired to push him away, but you fought the urge harder than anyone could ever know.

-

it had been about two weeks and jack returned from his trip a few days ago. the two of you have been texting nonstop. you learned the silly facts about each other and his personality shined through even on text. he was beginning to give you that glimpse of hope that you thought you’d lost for good.

“i just don’t know.” you spoke to dawson through the phone.

“he’s never texted a girl this long, he obviously likes you.”

“well you never know.”

“he has had women throw themselves at him and he’s rejected all of them. don’t you see it.”

“i do but i just don’t know if it’s the best idea.”

“y/n, just give it another go. go on another date with him. you won’t regret it, you and i both know that as much as you don’t want to admit that your crush is more than just a silly little crush.”

“god, daws you always know how to pick my brain what is wrong with you?” you laugh.

“um nothing, im just correct.” he scoffs.

“okay whatever, ill call him tonight okay?” you reply hoping it’ll shut him up.

“i’m holding you to it, so you better.”

“whatever mercer.”

-

“hello?” you hear a muffled jack on the other end of the line.

“hey jack, i was wondering if maybe you’d wanna go out again some time? i had a great time with you.”

“yeah absolutely!”

“does tomorrow work?” you ask, holding your breath.

“yeah i don’t have any plans. ill come pick you up at 1?”

“perfect.” you smile to yourself.

“i’ll see you tomorrow y/n.”

“bye jack.” you say hanging up the phone, wanting to scream with excitement. you had no clue how this could feel the way it does so soon after your breakup.

-

2 months later

“hey,” jack says shaking you awake.

“huh.” you groan opening your eyes.

“i have a skate to go to, ill be back okay?” he says, you fully processing your surroundings.

“oh, yeah okay. have fun.” you smile as he leans down to kiss you on the cheek. you’d stayed the night at his house just like you have for a few nights every week since your second date though you never established a label for your relationship, just placing the boyfriend name tag on him when you’re out by yourself, too afraid to use it around him. the idea of him leaving you to skate sucked, and you shoved down these feelings so they wouldn’t get in the way of anything. you never wanted him to leave your sight. you hated that you’d grown so attached. you pulled out your phone to call dawson, always filling him in with updates.

“hey miss hughes, what you up to?” he asks picking up.

“dawson stop,” you laugh, “i just woke up, jack just left for optional skate.”

“oh that’s funny i’m on my way there now.”

“i’m sure he’ll ive you all the details.”

“yeah he always does but you’re gonna tell me what’s going on in that little brain of yours first.”

“i hate when he leaves dude. i hate it. i feel like i have no right to be this attached. being around him makes me so fucking happy, it’s like all my problems disappear when he’s around. but i need to face it, he probably doesn’t even want me.”

“you’re lying but go on.”

“lying about what?”

“you really think he ever keeps girls around this long if he doesn’t wanna be with them? be for real with yourself y/n.” he says plainly.

“okay well, point is, i’ve grown attached and i don’t understand my feelings daws.”

“i think you love him.” he laughs.

“you’re crazy.” you scoff.

“did you listen to anything you just said?”

“what part?”

“god damnit, think before you speak y/n. the way you feel when you’re around him is love. practically in its exact definition.”

“it’s only been 3 months that i’ve known the guy.”

“bitch do you really think love has a timeline?”

“well n-“

“THEN GO GET HIM.”

“i’m not gonna go, he’s skating.”

“i meant it figuratively, just wait for him to come back and see how different you feel compared to talking to me on the phone. don’t leave. don’t panic and push him away y/n. give him a shot.”

“okay okay, ill talk to you later dawson.”

“alright, bye y/n.” he says hanging up abruptly. you knew deep down that he was probably right and you couldn’t admit it to yourself. you sat on his couch for a few hours, waiting to hear the lock turn again, when suddenly it did.

“oh hey, you’re still here? i thought you’d be gone by now.” he laughs, hanging his keys on the hook.

“no i wanted to stay, your couch is cozy.”

“well i’m glad you’re still here.” he says, kissing you on top of the head as he passed behind the couch. dawson was right, you felt giddy when jack entered the room, and the feeling didn’t settle. he returns back to the living room.

“you look like you’re thinking.” he says sitting down next to you. you sit up and turn to him.

“i am thinking.” you say, anxiety running through your body at full speed, knee bouncing.

“what’s on that pretty mind of yours?” he giggles placing a hand on your leg gently.

“i think i love you.” you say quietly, the words slipping off your tongue with struggle. you finally let yourself trip and fall. it felt almost freeing. his demeanor shifts as a smile grows on his face. he sits up to get closer to you.

“what was that?” he asks, smile growing wider.

“i think i love you. no no, i do. i do love you. i love you jack. i know we never attached a label to whatever we are but i can’t keep pushing my feelings away anymore. i just love you.” you say finally being able to lock eyes with him. he connects your lips in response, framing your cheek with his callused hand. when you pull away his gorgeous smile returns.

“fuck, i love you too y/n.” he laughs, a wave of relief washing over you. you couldn’t believe how jack changed your perspective on love and men so quickly but it never felt more true to you. you couldn’t deny your feelings anymore no matter how hard you tried. you finally let yourself fall, and thank god it was into the right hands this time.

-

[dylsluvrs]

ryomen sukuna x reader | college au [18+]

touchdown ch3 party rock anthem

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 chapter. 3/?

ᡣ𐭩 word count. 3.8k

ᡣ𐭩 a/n. hello again my loves! welcome to chapter three of touchdown!! i’m in the process of beginning to write my next college au as voted by all of you lovely people! that should be out soon, and i’ll be writing them alongside each other! they will be in the same universe, and i’m hoping to have multiple college aus in the same universe for multiple characters! anyways, on with the chapter!!

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“Sit your ass down.” Those were the first words you heard as you stepped into the door of your apartment, hands clasped together in a futile attempt to keep them warm from the november weather. In short, you were freezing your ass off. You tensed as you heard the voice, shrugging your coat off and tentatively tiptoeing your way into the living room with a sheepish smile on your face.

“Am I in trouble?” There say Yuki, legs spread, hands in her lap, with a terrifying look on her face. It wasn’t very often Yuki was mad at you, but when she was, your blood always ran cold. “Yeah sweetie, you’re in trouble.” She nodded her head towards the seat opposite her, and you quickly took a seat, looking down at your lap to avoid meeting her steel gaze.

“Is this about the laun-” “Shut the fuck up.” You closed your mouth instantly. You knew better than to argue with the blonde woman when she was in this mood. You’d known her since the freshman year of high school, where she picked you from the crowd, swung her arm around your shoulders and claimed you as her best friend for the rest of her days. You were a victim, really.

“You didn’t think to tell me? Did you think you’d get away with it?” You racked your brain for what you could’ve done that would have her this pissed at you. You’d always been an angel in Yuki’s eyes, and she protected you from the outside world the way a mother bear would. You were basically her baby. It was how you’d got through high school unscathed despite your invasive tendencies.

“Get away with…what?” She rolled her eyes, shifting her hips so she was closer to you, bringing one manicured nail up under your chin to force you to meet her eyes. Fucking terrifying. “You and Sukuna? You thought you could date the captain of the football team and not tell me?” You let out a sigh of relief, knowing she wasn’t truly mad at you. She was mad that she’d found out from someone that wasn’t her best friend.

“I should’ve known Choso would tell you. What a snitch.” You rolled your eyes, but Yuki was having none of it. “Spill.” Her eyes were still hard as she looked at you, but you could tell she was excited. You’d not shown an interest in a man beyond dragging him into your bedroom since you broke up with Toji in your senior year of high school. “Shit, okay. It’s new. Like, really new. Not even official yet. Obviously I know him because of Satoru being in the same frat, and I always thought he was hot, everyone thinks he’s hot.” Yuki nodded along with you, her brows furrowing every so often, especially when you mentioned Satoru. They’d always been rivals for your affection, ever since freshman year of high school, when they were both fighting to be crowned the title of your best friend.

“And then he was trying to dm me but i’m private, so he made Toru text me to tell me to accept, and he just kinda asked me to hang out with him after practice, and we’ve been texting and then he asked me to go to the par-”

Yuki screamed. Like actually screamed. The type that would make your neighbours think you’re either having really good sex or being brutally murdered. Neither of which had ever happened for either of you in that apartment.

“He asked you to go with him to the party tonight?” You nodded, and smiled as her eyes sparkled. It’s gonna be so hard to tell her about the fake break up. “He never asks girls to parties. He just picks one that’s already there and has her for the night.” Your stomach twisted awkwardly. You knew what Sukuna was like, you knew he had a body count higher than any number you could think up. But you didn’t like hearing it.

“This is a big deal, sweetie. It means you’re one step closer to actually being his girlfriend. He doesn’t change his routine for just anyone.” Your brows furrowed for a moment. Yuki seemed to know even more about Sukuna than you did. And it was literally your job.

“How the hell do you know all this?” The answer hit you before you could even finish your question. It was such an obvious thing.

Choso.

Choso and Yuki had met two years ago at a bike meet, and exactly the same way she did with you, she claimed him as her own. Choso was reserved, a quiet graphic design major with a heart of gold. You still don’t know how he ended up on the football team, but you suspected it was something to do with Sukuna.

“God. Choso is really invested in his brother’s life.” Yuki rolled her eyes. You were avoiding this line of questioning like the plague. She’d always been able to see right through you.

“You’re going to the party, right?” Of course you were. You needed those interviews so badly, and you wouldn’t get them if you didn’t hold up your end of the deal. Even if it meant going to a party at a frat house. You liked parties, even some frat parties, but you’d only ever gone with Satoru and Yuki. You were gonna be a whole new world now.

“Yeah. Wanna help me get ready?”

Yuki screamed again. Your neighbours were a homophobic elderly couple, and they’d always thought you and Yuki were lesbians. There was some truth to their thinking, Yuki really did like girls. The screaming wasn’t helping your case.

“Sweetie, you have to wear the red one. It’s his favourite colour and you look damn good in it.” You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless pulled out the red dress, while Yuki ran to grab a dress shirt that Choso had left after he got wasted and crashed after team’s award ceremony. You pulled the outfit on and you had to admit, you did look good. You weren’t big-headed but you knew you were somewhat attractive, and the outfit only brought it out.

“So hot.” Yuki giggled as she pulled your hair around, styling it exactly how you like. You’d done your makeup already, and now you were finished. You sprayed some perfume, knowing by the end of the night you’d stink like stale beer and axe body spray. “You ready?” You nodded, following her out the door. She held the car door open for you, as she always did. Yuki showed you exactly how a girl should be treated.

When you and Yuki finally arrived, the party was already in full throttle. People were making out on the couch in the yard, the doorway was clogged full of stumbling frat bros, and you were not happy. Yuki’s hand was clasped tightly around yours, as you used the other to send a dm to Sukuna telling him that you were here.

It took exactly five seconds for the pink haired man to appear in front of the two of you. “Listen. Do not leave her alone. I’ve got a bat in the trunk of my car and i’m not afraid to ruin your career.” His eyes fell to you hiding behind her figure, and you nodded, you knew she would actually do it. He held his hands up in surrender. Yuki didn’t play about you, and if anything happened to you because of him, they wouldn’t find the body.

“You call me if you need me. I’m gonna go find Cho, okay?” You nodded, smiling as she left a soft kiss on your cheek, and gave Sukuna a sharp glare.

“Y’know, Choso said she was a bitch, but I didn’t think he meant it.” You giggled as he took your hand, weaving the two of you through the crowd, hissing venomous words at anyone who got too close to you. “She’s just protective. She’s been like that since high school. She’s the same with Cho.” Sukuna didn’t like the way he slightly tensed at the nickname for his brother, but he chose to ignore it.

“Come on, princess. We’ve got a game of beer pong to win.” You grinned up at him as he pulled you along, and you were almost at the table when you heard a familiar voice over the boom of the dj in the corner.

“You bitch!” Sukuna swung around at this, as you turned slowly, meeting Satoru’s eyes. He stood there, mouth agape as he looked at your hand, which was still fused with Sukuna’s. “So it’s true. This asshole’s got you as his next victim.” He held a hand over his chest as he glared at Sukuna.

“Watch your mouth, Six.” The pink haired man’s teeth were gritted as he looked at Satoru with venom. “Toru, i’m not a victim. I’m also not a five year old you need to babysit.” Satoru reached out, tearing you away from Sukuna and tugging you into his chest, his hand smoothing over your hair. “Y/N, baby. My sweet, sweet girl. He’s an animal.”

You pushed him away, stepping backwards into Sukuna’s body, his hands coming to wrap tightly around your hips. It was so natural, the way he touched you. The feeling it gave you, was unnatural. “I’m a big girl, Toru. I can handle myself.” You gave him a wink, before turning on your heel and pulling Sukuna away like a lost dog.

“Thought we had a game to win?” He grinned down at you, before whistling at one of the other team members. You think his name was Noaya. He was younger than you and Sukuna by a year. “Move. Me and my girl got next.” His girl. It sounded foreign. You hadn’t been someone’s girl in a long time. You gave a small wave to the boys surrounding the table, trying to ignore the stares you were getting from the sorority girls in the room. Sukuna never had someone from the get go at a party. Who the fuck were you?

“Go ahead, baby.” Sukuna placed the ball in your hand and grinned when you instantly got it in the opposing team’s cup. Suguru groaned as he looked down, picking up the cup and downing the contents with a grimace on his lips. “Fuck. She’s good.” Sukuna’s hands were steadily stroking circles on your hips, and it ached how naturally this came to the two of you. You hadn’t been in a relationship since high school, and you weren’t sure Sukuna ever had.

You began to pout when Suguru’s throw landed straight into the cup before you. You gave a small sigh and lifted the solo cup to your lips, throwing your head back to get the contents down in one. You shivered when you finished, eyes falling to Sukuna’s with a small frown. “Ryo…will you get me a drink?”

Your hand had come up to his neck, your perfectly manicured nails stroking at his undercut deliciously. He shivered. He actually shivered. It felt too good. “Yeah, princess. What do you want?” He’d leaned in close now, and you could feel his breath on your ear. It sent a chill down your spine in the best way possible. “Hm. Somethin’ sweet.” You grinned at him, placing a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth as he began to retreat.

“Nanami. Watch her.” The blonde man in front of you, Nanami, nodded, moving to stand by your side.

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” Nanami looked formal, his hair was perfectly styled, and he sported a blue polo to go with the khakis he wore. So you opted for a handshake, holding your hand out for him. You noticed the slight upturn at the corner of his lips as he took your hand in his own. “You can call me Kento, if you’d like.” You nodded, giving him a small smile of your own.

“You’re on the football team too, right?” He nodded, and you spied the red cup in his hand, with what looked to be water in it. Smart guy. “Yes. Truthfully, I’m only there because it was required that I have a sports extracurricular. I tend to coach more than play.”

You were nodding along with what he was saying, and he watched your expression to know that you were genuinely interested in what he had to say. “What’s your major?” You were interesting. Nanami may have been boring, but he was probably the player on the team that Sukuna trusted the most. He was level-headed and he was honest. He’d been there too many times to save Sukuna’s ass for him not to trust him. This also meant that Nanami was always subject to whatever girl Sukuna was fixed on at parties. But you were different. You seemed to care about people for more than just their status.

“Accounting. I’m going into business with my father once I graduate.” You smiled, your eyes never leaving his as you held a genuine interest in the conversation. “What about you?” He saw the way your eyes lit up as you began to speak, you genuinely loved your major.

“I’m a journalism major. Specifically sports journalism.” He nodded along, and then something clicked in his mind. “Oh, yes. You’re going to be interviewing us all, correct?”

“Yeah! Ryo said he’d try and get you all on board with it. I’ve got a big project to do about how student athletes balance the personal and professional as well as sports. I hope he isn’t forcing any of you to do this.” Nanami noticed the way you seemed to tense. Everybody knew Sukuna could be harsh, but you wanted genuine answers from the men on the team.

“We’re all happy to help. I saw the order you had us in, any particular reason for it?”

“Well I wanted Geto first because he’s a business owner so he probably has to balance the most, and Sukuna’s last because he’s the captain. Everyone else was just in between based on who’s names I wrote down first.” Before Nanami could respond, Sukuna appeared again, a cup in his hand with a small rubber seal over it, a straw poking out of the top.

“We gotta buy more of those cup cover things.” You gave him a smile, tugging him down to kiss his cheek before taking a sip, your eyes lighting up as you got the sweet sensation flooding your tastebuds. “This is so good, baby.” The pet name rolled so deliciously off your tongue. This was all too natural. Sukuna smirked down at you, before leaning in close to your ear.

“Let’s go sit. Need these sorority whores to know i’m off limits for a while.” You scoffed, slapping his chest gently as he began to lead you towards the couch at the back of the room. “Don’t call women whores, Ryo. I’m sure some of them are really nice girls.” That was one of the main things you’d disliked about Sukuna. He was disrespectful as fuck.

“And some of them are whores.” You scoffed again as he pulled you down onto his lap, your arm coming around his neck to stroke his undercut again. “You’re also a whore, asshole.” You gave him a sickly sweet smile when you saw a group of sorority girls approaching.

“Kuna, baby. Who’s this?” Your eyes moved to meet the gaze of a girl named Yorozu. You knew she was captain of the cheerleaders, and she spent a lot of time around the football team. Maybe she would’ve been a good person to interview for your project.

“This is Y/N. My girl.” You were smiling politely at the girls, beginning to feel out of place. Almost as if Sukuna could read your mind, his thumb began stroking gentle circles on your hip, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “You? A girlfriend? Don’t make me laugh, Sukuna.”

“He’s not kidding. It’s a new thing, but he’s my man.” The possessiveness had never come so easily. You’d never been a girl to stake a claim on a man. If another girl could take him, she could have him. But you needed this. You needed to keep up your end of the deal so your project wouldn’t come crashing down around you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetie, but you’re just his newest toy. He’ll get bored of you and toss you to the side the second someone better comes along.” She had a sickly sweet smile on her lips, but you could see the bitterness clouding her features. He’d done her dirty, and this was pissing her off.

“Is that what he did with you? That’s sad. I guess he just needed the right girl to change his ways. Right, Ryo?” Sukuna’s smirk grew wider than you ever thought possible as you leaned down to pepper a few kisses on his neck, getting that sweet spot just under his ear so deliciously. “Damn right, baby.” The brunette girl scoffed, eyes darting between the two of you angrily.

“Ryo? What happened to you only going by your last name?”

“It’s a name reserved for my girl. Sounds so good coming out of her mouth.” You could tell Yorozu wasn’t going to let up any time soon, and you were growing uncomfortable with the attention on you. So you did the unthinkable. You violated your own fucking rules.

You grabbed his jaw gently, turning his head to face you. His eyes were searching yours for any sort of explanation. But you really didn’t have one. Instead, you leant forward, connecting your lips with his in a heated kiss. You hated how it made heat pool in your stomach when his tongue came out to nudge at your bottom lip, a silent plead for permission.

And you fucking allowed it. You opened your mouth slowly, allowing his tongue to enter and dance with yours in the most delicious way. His hands had slowly moved down, finding purchase on your soft ass, kneading the flesh between his large fingers. You were fucking making out with Sukuna in front of everyone.

At least nobody could deny your acting skills.

When you were certain you were safe from the venomous words of the cheer captain, you pulled away, sighing softly as you tried to catch your breath. Sukuna’s eyes were wide. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew he didn’t like it. “What happened to no kissing?” And he was back. Signature smirk spreading across his face as he slowly took his hands away from your ass.

“Seemed necessary. It worked, didn’t it?” You wiped the corner of your mouth shyly where the spit from the kiss had pooled. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna doubt we’re fucking now.” He let out a breathy chuckle, eyes scanning over the crowd, noticing the stares and whispers. Everyone except the football team seemed invested in this.

Of course, Choso struggled to keep his mouth shut, so the whole team already knew about the two of you. And they didn’t actually care. They thought the same thing everybody else did. You were his shiny new toy, and he was gonna ruin you.

“We gotta seal the deal, princess. I’ll drive you home. Then everyone will think i’ve got you under me. Or on top of me.” He was grinning now. One of those annoying, shit-eating grins that only he could make look good. And you hated that he did.

“I don’t get in cars with men who’ve been drinking. You think I wanna die before writing about the NFL?”

“I don’t drink during the season. I’ll get you home safely.” You weren’t comfortable with him knowing where you lived just yet. You didn’t fully trust him. Not until he came through with the interviews. “How about we stay here? You’ve got a room right? I’ll just crash with Toru, and come to your room in the morning so it looks like we did something.”

Sukuna looked apprehensive for a moment, before nodding his head, and gently picking you up from his lap. “Lemme just talk to Kamo. You go find Six, yeah?” You nodded, before the two of you parted ways. You spotted the mop of white hair towering above the crowd, running over and nipping his ass cheek with a giggle.

“Well if it isn’t my slut of a best friend.” You feigned offence, holding a hand to your chest as you looked up at him with a grin on your lips. “I am not a slut!”

“Yeah you are, baby girl. Sucking face with Sukuna so shamelessly? Whore behaviour.” You slapped his chest with a giggle. You knew he didn’t mean it. Bad even if he did, his body count was higher than your rent. He had no room to talk. “Can I crash in your room tonight?” Satoru’s brows furrowed.

“You not staying with your man?” His eyes began to look around for his pink haired teammate amongst the crowd of wasted students. “I don’t wanna sleep with him yet. Gotta give him something to look forward to, huh?”

Satoru wasn’t as good at seeing through you as Yuki was, and you were grateful she wasn’t here right now. She’d call your bullshit and this whole ordeal would be for nothing. “You’re a tease, Y/N. You know you can always crash with me. He know you’re staying?”

As confident as Satoru was in his abilities, Sukuna would demolish him, and he wasn’t too proud to admit that. He didn’t wanna come between the two of you if it meant gaining a broken bone. “Yeah, he’s gonna stay in his room tonight.” Satoru looked surprised at that, but you didn’t push. You didn’t need to know any more about Sukuna than what was needed for your project.

And as if he’d been summoned, the pink haired brute appeared behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing a sloppy kiss on your temple. “You wanna go upstairs, baby?” You nodded, waving shyly to Satoru who looked as though he was about to burst, and followed him as he guided you through the crowd and up the stairs.

“I’ve got a shirt you can use for the night. Make it look like you stayed with me. Just come by in the morning, and then sneak out. Should work.” You nodded slowly, taking the pink shirt from his hands. You turned on your heel, about to leave, before he stopped you with his hand around your wrist.

“Thanks, princess.” It was said with grit teeth, like it pained him to say it. But it was a thanks nonetheless. You nodded, giving him a small smile, before leaving his room. You trudged across the hall, before dipping into Satoru’s room, pressing your back against the door once it was closed.

What the fuck.

taglist: @kyo-kyo1 @kenmacantakemeaway @coldluminarykoala @sukubusss @clp-84 @ieathairs @acrazybiotch374 @sukuxna0 @gaychaosgremlin @toratsue @gojoscumslut @mocha-the-muse @livinggxd3adgirl @hahajsphaha

[brucewaynehater101]

Okay, you know that hc where Tim Reincarnates as The Trash of the Bat Family? It got me thinking of him scamming and making the "Real League of Assassins". He integrates Pru, Z and Owens early, makes them his people (or assassins disguised as servants).

"Where's the coffee?"

Owens, pouring chamomile tea, "We're all out of coffee, Sir."

"Energy drinks?"

Pru, throwing a trash bag away. "All gone too, Sir."

He integrates Kon before he experiences the SA with Tana Moon and other ladies, and Kon becomes his bodyguard.

"Are we doing something bad?"

"Oh, we're doing something veeeeery bad. To Lex Luthor."

Tim rescuing Damian.

"You're Damian Al Ghul Wayne. You're an Al Ghul and a Wayne. You can do whatever you want. I'm not taking care of you."

Damian, not trusting this lying bastard, secretly follows him around. Tim knows Damian is, and begrudgingly just accepts Damian into his fold until he reaches Gotham again.

"If you die, Timothy, I will dominate the world, kill everyone, and then myself."

I love these additions so much!!!

The "Real League of Assassins" is such a petty name, and I live for it. Just Tim as a kid and his little League of Assassins (depending on how far back he went into the past and how soon he aquires the OG best assassin squad). It would be double hilarious if his "Real League of Assassins" doesn't actually kill anyone, but I also respect Tim's right to commit murder however he deems fit. I like to imagine how mad Ra's would get at the name.

Part of Tim's asshole cover comes from Pru. There's two ways this can go. One, Pru is her complete self in front of everyone (she will break someone's nose no matter their price tag). This causes major scandals and issues for Tim cause how could he hire someone who behaves like that? Or Two, Pru is creepily pleasant and respectful around other company, and Tim continues to act like usual around her. This causes people to pity Pru for having such a horrible boss.

I also live for Bodyguard Kon AUs. You know the two of them are playing a "I know your sickly Victorian child looking ass can beat me up, but I will pretend I don't know this until you tell me why" with a "please stop saving me from every small things because I know you know a sunburn isn't going to kill me." It's dealer's choice on how soon Kon finds out about Tim's vigilante gig. Also, if Kon is a bodyguard in this, is he also Superboy or the equivalent? Does he become a superhero once he finds out about Tim's heroism? There's no way Kon would stick around Tim if he believed the persona Tim kept up.

Cue Tim accidentally forming the YJ again, but this time it's hidden from the JL radars and is a closely guarded secret.

As far as Damian, I absolutely love that quote you included. It's so Damian coded and I live for him threatening to take over the world. I also want to see Tim's reaction and how concerned he is over Damian threatening to kill himself. As an older brother, he legit could care less about Damian managing to kill the entire world. It's Damian wanting to die that scares him.

As far as the AU, Tim is trying so hard to distance himself from the Waynes that his dumbass shouldn't have picked up Damian in person. He was probably too anxious to leave it to someone else, but now he has a tiny suspicious assassin who reluctantly became fond of him.

There's a few different ways this can play out.

One, Tim picks up Damian in his vigilante costume and never unmasks to Damian. The little tot starts to think of this vigilante as maybe a brother before being given to Bruce (angst of abandonment tied with identity shenanigans. How soon does Damian realize that Timothy "Trash" Drake is the one to save him from the League?).

Two, Tim starts off with his secret identity in tact but reveals himself while traveling back. They bond, Damian is left at Bruce's, and, to the surprise of literally all the Waynes, the kid is seen constantly talking to the complete jerk Timothy Drake. Damian is actually nicer to this douchebag stranger than he is to some of his family members. What's equally shocking is how kind Tim is to Damian. Tim hasn't been cruel to children before, but he hasn't gone out of his way to be nice either. This cues investigations into Tim by the batfam.

Three, Damian refuses to go live with his dad and sticks around Tim when they return to Gotham. Depending on when Tim rescues Damian, Tim's fake uncle adopts Damian, and they become brothers legally. When Bruce finds out Damian is his son, he doesn't take the excuse, "I found him on the streets!" from Tim seriously.

[ihni]

In a world where Neil Hargrove does not exist or is out of their lives or is a better man, Billy and Max has a better relationship, like real siblings.

Which means that the first time she has her new friends over at her house, Billy crashes their little party in the most obnoxious way. Maybe they're hanging out in the living room and playing a game or something, and Billy (dressed in workout shorts and socks only, no shirt, and sweaty and gross from yardwork or basketball or lifting weights) barges in like they're not even there, spreading out on the couch and turning the TV on, volume loud.

"What the fuck Billy?!" Max says, angrily, and tries to pull him up.

But of course he won't budge. "What?"

"Get out!"

"Nah. My show's on."

"I have FRIENDS over!"

He watches them with an unimpressed look. "And I see you've somehow managed to find people even more nerdy than you, Maxi-pad. Well done."

She yells in frustration, trying again to pull him off the couch, but she can barely move him. He sticks his socked foot in her face and laughs when she screams in disgust.

"Billy!! You're such an asshole!"

"And you're a shitbird. Ow!" She claws at him but he just laughs even as he tries to swat her away. "Oooh, is little Maxine trying to show off in front of her new friends?"

Snarling, Max grabs a pillow and tries to choke him with it, but he easily pushes her off so she ends up on the floor, red-faced with anger and glaring daggers. Billy grins at her all teeth, and makes a show out of stretching out in the couch in all his barely-clothed glory.

Max turns to the Party, who has been watching with wide eyes, and huffs "Let's go to my room" before stomping off.

Billy smirks at them as the boys give him a wide berth on their way out, and when the door to Max's room slams shut he yells "Keep the door open, Maxine."

"FUCK YOU BILLY!" is the answer.

"Think of JESUS!"

"GO TO HELL!"

He sinks back into the couch and turns his attention to the TV, but only for a minute or so. Then he gets up and goes to take a shower. He only went in there to mess with her, anyway.

(She gets her revenge when he has a boy over, later. And whenever Billy has his boyfriend in the car when she's there. And whenever she runs into any of Billy's friends. She has many embarrassing stories about Billy, after all. No one knows better than her how lame he can be.)

(Or, just, Billy and Max being annoying siblings, without the hate and fear and resentment. I want that for them. Annoying obnoxious needling gross older brother Billy and seething frustrated loud conniving little sister Max)

[glossamerfaerie]

One aspect of Gwynriel that really excites me is religion. The other protagonists don’t seem to take religion or rituals very seriously? Everyone respects the Mother and acknowledges her power (and the Cauldron), but we haven’t explored faith among the fae. Feyre has a terrible experience with Ianthe (a sadly accurate depiction of corruption within organized religion). But we know that not all priestesses are like power-hungry Ianthe. Nesta is understandably indifferent even though she later has an experience with the Mother during Nyx’s birth. Rhys and Cassian seem respectful but we’ve never seen them pray or attend services. It’s giving “only attending church during Christmas” level of religious commitment.

Azriel, on the other hand… we haven’t had much canon insight in his head, but I firmly believe that Azriel is more religious than his brothers. Like he’s not the type to attend temple services, but he probably thinks about faith and the Mother regularly. Clearly he has contemplated mating bonds and who creates them — maybe he’s prayed for a mating bond? Maybe his mother raised him to be more religious. In HOFAS, after Nesta takes the mask off in a close call, Az’s very first instinct is to thank the Mother. Possibly that is meaningless (like how an atheist can say “thank god”) but idk. Az seems to have more faith than his brothers.

“The Mask fell from Nesta’s face, clattering on the stone.

Nesta swayed, but Azriel was there, catching her, bringing her to his chest, scarred hands stroking her hair. “Thank the Mother,” he breathed. “Thank the Mother.”

A few chapters later, Az describes the Cauldron and what happens after death.

“Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?”

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.”

Later in the conversation, Az explains what happens to souls after death.

“When you die, where do your souls go?” Did they even believe in the concept of a soul? Maybe she should have led with that.

But Azriel said softly, “They return to the Mother, where they rest in joy within her heart until she finds another purpose for us. Another life or world to live in.”

The way Az talks about the Mother, with reverence and confidence, makes me certain that he’s more religious than his brothers.

Then, of course, we have Gwyn — a literal priestess who was raised in a temple. She still attends daily services and sings for the choir. I’ve wondered if what happened in Sangravah shook Gwyn’s faith. Maybe she thinks the Mother exists but isn’t a benevolent deity. Maybe she’s bitter that the Mother didn’t save her servants from Hybern attacks. She definitely feels shame and unworthiness — Gwyn no longer feels like she has a right to wear the Invoking Stone. Working through those feelings will be a major aspect of Gwyn’s arc.

“You asked me once why I don’t wear the hood or the Invoking Stone. That stone is a sign of holiness. How can someone like me wear it?”

Within the temple, Gwyn also faces prejudice and discrimination from her fellow sisters. Ianthe isn’t the only asshole within the organization (cough Merrill cough). I’m sure that some people in Sangravah were cruel to Gwyn’s family because of their nymph heritage. I don’t know what SJM has planned, but I feel that religion will play a major role in the Gwynriel book. I wouldn’t be surprised that, like Nesta, Gwyn has a firsthand experience with the Mother. She will definitely use the blue invoking stone for healing (a nice parallel to Az’s blue siphons).

“It’s an Invoking Stone.” Gwyn unfurled her fingers, revealing the gem within her hand. “Similar to the Siphons of the Illyrians, except that the power of the Mother flows through it. We cannot use it for harm, only healing and protection. It was shielding us.”

I’m also curious to see Gwyn and Az discuss their religious beliefs together. Maybe Az gets permission to join the dawn and dusk services. The man barely sleeps, he might as well watch Gwyn during her religious commitments. The shadows are NOT going to pass a chance to hear their girl sing (or watch her glow). Maybe Nesta can talk Az into singing with the choir. 🥹

Nesta could only gape at the lovely melody, the voices from the front of the cavern leading it, lifting higher than the others. Gwyn sang, chin high, a faint glow seeming to radiate from her. The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth.

Idk, maybe I’m wrong about Az being religious. But it feels like such a wasted opportunity if we don’t learn more about the Mother! At the very least, I do see Az attending the dawn and dusk services if he’s not on a mission. 🎼🩵🎶

[burningcheese-merchant]

Wake up, BurningCheese/GoldenSpice babes, new poorly drawn blorbos just dropped

They look cooler in my head, I swear.

the images didn't show up the first time wtf lol

The kids are finally here, yay. I promised I'd show you them, and I finally stopped being an asshole and followed through. Almost got 200 followers and I'm very grateful for it - really, I'm nobody. I'm just some clown who says dumb stuff and makes dumb memes and writes cringey stories, and yet I convinced almost 200 people to tune in. Thank you all so much, users on here and anons in my inbox alike. As a token of appreciation, you can all endure my rambling about my OCs and witness a person in their early 20s draw like a 12 year old.

The boy is Pepper Jack (or Pepper Jack Cookie). He's the firstborn and older than his sister by a few years. He takes after his mother in a lot of ways, primarily in her appearance (save for nabbing his father's red eyes). He's incredibly bright (and a smartass lol), preferring to think his way out of conflict rather than fight his way out... not that he's above violence at all, if that glaive doesn't give it away lol. He harbors a deep sense of love and loyalty towards his family and his peoples, and carries the weight of his responsibilities and heritage with as much confidence and poise as he can muster. (There are/will be times where he stumbles, of course. He's not perfect. He struggles a lot more than he lets on, really. But he tries his best, for everyone's sake.)

The girl is Matar Paneer (or Matar Paneer Cookie). Again, she's the younger one by a few years. She was all but made in her father's image, save for inheriting her mother's eyes. She's a little firecracker: lively and fun-loving and stubborn as a mule. She doesn't ask "can I have/do this thing", she tells you "I'm going to have/do this thing". Golden is proud as anything to see her daughter be so greedy... until that greed comes into conflict with her and Spice's authority lol. But she's a good kid, despite being such a handful. She has an enormous heart and is not afraid to stand up for others/what's right, and she loves her parents and brother more than anything in the world. She might doubt her own capabilities, she might secretly fear that she's not strong enough to do what she needs to... but she keeps pushing anyway, because she'd honestly choose death over quitting.

Your eyes are not deceiving you, Pepper Jack's wings are blue lol. There's an actual reason for that. And that USO (Unidentified Sitting Object) in Matar Paneer's hair is a lotus (the cheese one in the GCK decor set lol). There's a reason for that, too. I thought it would be cool to give Jack a glaive and swap out the normal blade for that of a khopesh sword (glaives are not Egyptian, they only saw use in Asia and Europe, but I just HAD to give him a glaive), to add that Egyptian touch. Paneer's supposed to be wearing a pattu pavadai, it's a traditional Indian dress for young girls. It's a blouse plus a skirt. She's holding katar, Indian knives (Cilantro Cobra has them, too). And her hair's supposed to be in a low ponytail.

Merchant thinks that if they explain what their terrible drawings are supposed to convey, people will understand their intended vision and the pain will stop

I sat down and did research into both Egyptian and Hindu mythology for the sake of drawing inspiration for them both. I'll explain in detail in another post, but basically: both of them take after one Egyptian god and one Hindu god each. Golden takes after Ra and Spice takes after Shiva, so I figured I'd follow along that line.

Please flood my inbox with questions about them now. I've really been dying to talk about them for ages now. I've drafted extensive character sheets for them both, I even made up in-game descriptions for them lol. They're my little fankid blorbos and I love them :') I hope you all come to love them, too

(Also, I'm sorry they're on lined paper. I'm visiting family rn and that's the only paper my grandmother has in her house. I'd have to drive to a stationery to get printer paper and I'd really rather not drive in this particular country lol (shit roads, even shittier drivers). I'll doodle them on printer paper whenever somebody remembers to bring me some)

[rrenzwrld]

secreto de amor

connie falling in luv w his bsf sister ; a series? idk

enjoy! it’s been a while i’m sorry😔

“con, this is my sister— step sister, y/n.” jean introduced you to the shorter dude with his buzzcut dyed lime green. “y/n, this is my friend, constance.” jean smiled because he knew he was about to piss connie off.

“nice to meet you, constance—“

“don’t call me that.” he glared at you whilst he spoke in a cold tone. jean snickered as your friendly smile dropped.

“is that not your name?”

“it is but you can call me connie. don’t let your brother get you fucked up.” for it to be the first time meeting him, he was kinda mean. but you guessed you had to respect his boundaries if you two were gonna get along, even if he was rude in establishing them.

jean shoved connie to the side. “don’t talk to her like that. keep on, i’ll kick the shit outta your lil ass.” but all he did was shrug and walk away.

“sure.” jean turned to you with a sympathetic look on his face.

“sorry bout him. he’s an asshole.” you glared your brother down.

“figures.”

jean obviously wasn’t your blood brother but he was your older brother through marriage. his dad married your mom a few years ago but you two had been around each other for longer than that so the marriage brought you closer over time. jean had moved out when he finished college and invited you to move in with him so you did. he was the only man in the world you trusted enough to live with. connie was younger than jean but a little older than you so he was friends with jean for a while. you just never bothered to meet him when he came over and stayed in your room instead. but it was different this time because jean actually asked you to meet his friend this time so you didn’t see a problem with it.

“your sister’s cute.” connie took a hit of the blunt he had in his hand. jean kicked him in the leg.

“you know how i feel about that.”

“what?” he looked clueless but he knew what jean referred to.

“you hittin on my sister and you don’t even do relationships—“

“whoa.. i didn’t say anything about relationships. literally just said she was cute, calm down.”

“i don’t even want you thinking she’s cute. think she’s ugly or something.”

“but she’s not though.”

“oh really? i—“ jean was about to pull out his phone and show the most embarrassing pictures he had of you, but luckily you had walked into the room before he could.

“jean, can i borrow your car?” jean looked at you like you were crazy. the only reason you were asking was because your car was in the shop so you had no choice but to utilize the brother you had. you just hated asking or relying on people for things.

“uh no. take the bus.” connie let out a snicker before your eyes darted to his reaction. all you did was roll your eyes and continued the conversation with jean.

“i haven’t rode public transportation since high school. you know i’m only asking because lola in the shop right now…”

“…lola? you named your car?” connie felt the need to comment for whatever reason.

“shut up. yes, i did. you got a problem, baldy?” connie didn’t respond with anything else. “yeah. anyways, jean?” jean smacked his teeth before allowing you to get his keys.

“thank you, thank you!” you pulled your brother in for a hug. “love you, i’ll be back!”

“you better..” he mumbled.

“it’s the way you actually let her use your car. your dumbass didn’t even ask where she was going.” jean paused because he realized how right connie was. he was going to regret it but felt no need because the deed had been done and he’d deal with it whenever you came back.

“shut up. it’s the way you actually don’t know how to mind your fucking business.”

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Some Whitebeard Pirate Excerpts

"But," Rakuyo whimpers. He sounds so very small. "But I'm your son."

Whitebeard's face remains cold. "I have so many sons."

"Oh shit," Marco chokes. "Rakuyo, run!"

The call is picked up and echoed, his siblings crying out for him. He hears the cooler heads among them holding the others back from rushing to their own deaths trying to save him. "It's too late for him!" They shout. "There's nothing we can do, he's a goner!"

Not without a fight. He scrambles at the ground on all fours, animal-afraid, and tries to force enough speed into his fragile, mortal limbs to escape what's coming. He barely makes it two feet before Whitebeard's shadow falls over him like a physical thing, oppressive and heavy. Stifling all the air in his lungs.

Someone screams "Pops, you'll kill him!"

There is the boom of displaced air. Rakuyo has just enough time to think this isn't how I thought I'd die. Then, all at once, the world goes dark.

Whitebeard's massive fucking pillow is practically the size of Rakuyo's entire body, and it slams over him with a fwump that squishes him flat and knocks the breath out of him and sends a spray of oversized feathers up into the air. Some of Rakuyo's siblings have continued their dramatics, and from under the very soft weight currently crushing him to death and muffling his ears he can hear Haruta wailing "He was so young!" and Thatch's hysterical "He had so much to live for!"

Rakuyo gets a corner of the pillow pried up enough to drag in a breath of fresh air, only to immediately inhale a feather and almost actually die choking on it. The rest of the gathered crew are avenging his gruesome murder, and Whitebeard is now fending off most of his children while they attempt to collectively beat him to death with pillows.

Pops, the bastard, just laughs.

It's Blamenco who comes to actually help pry the goddamn pillow off of Rakuyo so he can escape it's down-filled clutches. "You're the only person in this family who actually loves me," Rakuyo tells him.

“That ain’t true and you know it,” his brother scolds him, but he’s grinning, too. “Look, they’re all killing Pops for you. That’s gotta count for something.”

Rakuyo sighs. “Only if they actually manage it.”

------------------------------------------------

“Wh— Is this therapy?” Ace sputters. “Are you therapizing me right now?!”

From somewhere behind him, Jiru mutters, “That’s not a word.”

Kingdew raises his eyebrows. “Without your consent? I would never. It would be malpractice.”

“You lost your license,” Ace seethes.

“For murder,” Kingdew peacefully informs him. “Not malpractice. I’m very serious about the privacy of my patients.”

Ace grits his teeth until his jaw aches. “You are a lying liar who lies.”

“I am?”

“Yes!” Ace waves a hand vaguely at the two of them, and the table they’re sitting at, and the — the fucking hot chocolate. “You’re… trying to get me to talk about my problems because your whole thing is beating up everybody’s brain goblins for them. You’re like, obsessed with the crew’s mental health. I’m onto your game.”

“My game?”

“You’re like—“ Ace grapples with the words. “You’ve got like, that thing, where you can’t do a lot of physical lifting or chores or fighting sometimes because of the fibro-thing, so you try to make up for it by being everybody’s shrink because it’s something you can do even when you can’t stand up.”

Kingdew nods, thoughtfully, like they’re having a debate and Ace is raising interesting points. “Hm…” he muses. “Now who’s therapizing?”

“It’s still you!” Ace shouts. “You’re doing a — a one of those — reverse psychic things on me! Well it’s not gonna work!”

“It already did,” Kingdew informs him, all innocence. Ace can practically see his fucking halo glinting. “You just told me you think it’s normal for people to feel like they have to earn their right to exist.”

“That’s — I —” Ace gapes, too stunned to even really argue. “You’re an asshole,” He realizes.

“Hmmm,” Kingdew intones. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Ace jumps up from the table, snatches up the hot chocolate (it’s good hot chocolate, and shouldn’t be ruined by — by shitty therapizing crew mates!) and storms out of the room.

Before he slams the door behind him, he hears Pops’s voice, a deep rumbling sight. “Do you really have to come down that hard on him? You’ll scare him off.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Kingdew sounds way too goddamn pleased with himself. “We’re making great progress.”

[elswing]

i hate posting discourse it's pointless and doesn't do anything for me except prolong my annoyance but i'm Tired™ and feel like shouting into the void. apologies to my beautiful feanorian mutuals please look away i love u

i neeeeeeed everyone to stop claiming they like elwing if their characterisation of her is completely made-up biased bullshit that paints her as an immature and disdained ruler (?????) who couldn't balance her responsibilities with the husband she married too young (at 22. practically a child bride honestly) and the children she never wanted (where. where does it say this). she's clearly such a bad mother that she abandoned them at first opportunity (she knew the feanorians were more than capable of killing a pair of twin boys because they literally already did that. that's very much a thing that already happened. to her brothers) and it was her selfish nature that made her soooo eager to flee (she had no reason to think ulmo would save her it was literally a suicide attempt. she wanted to make sure the deaths of her people and presumed deaths of her sons weren't in vain by ensuring they never obtained the silmaril)

like i'm gonna touch your hand as i say this. it's okay if you hate her! just don't pretend that you weren't thriving in the 2016 era of silm fandom where everyone pushed all their male fave's negative traits onto any other woman in a 5 mile radius to grab Poor Little Meow Meow status for war criminal #1 #2 and #3 to then turn around and spout the exact same (factually untrue) sexist rhetoric concealed under seven layers of buzzwords just because it's the year of "unlikable and complicated female characters" like buddy who are we talking about here. have you perhaps considered making an oc?

and i'm NOT saying i want the whole fandom to mimic my exact opinions and thoughts about elwing i realise that one of the best parts of the silm is how divisive it is and how you have so much wiggle room to come to your own interpretations because of how VAGUE the source material is but i'm genuinely convinced everyone's just parroting shit they saw in ao3 fanfics where maglor is secretly lindir and the premise is elrond sneaking him into valinor and elwing yells at him for slaughtering her people. TWICE. and this is framed as a category 5 Woman Moment so elrond disowns her and calls maglor his real dad

(eärendil misses this entire ordeal because he went on a voyage to save the world that one time and no one's let him live it down since because the whole fandom as a collective decided he did this because he's a terrible dad and not because the whole continent was at war and about to be wiped out and maybe he came to the unfortunate but reasonable conclusion that leaving is the best thing he could do for his family if it meant there was a chance his sons could grow up safe in a world that wasn't ruled by Fucking Satan so now his whole Beloved Sacrificial Lion: The Thin Line Between Doomed and Prophesized Hero™ shtick is tossed out in favour of.... *checks notes* Guy Who Forgot To Pay Child Support? oh and they're a lot louder about this because he's a man so no one can call it misogyny that's why no one ever goes the #girlflop #ILoveMyBlorbosNastyAndComplicated route with him and he gets dubbed as that one asshole who just wanted fame and glory even though that goes against the general themes for tolkien's hero characters. and tolkien loved that dude to bits that was his specialist little guy so you can't seriously tell me you think that's what he was trying to portray???????? is that seriously what you think he was trying to portray????????? babe????????????

also there's a BIG difference when it's a character that's only named in one draft and doesn't exist in the rest or gil-galad who has like three and a half possible fathers but ELWING??????? the only possible way you could be coming to these conclusions is if you read the damn book with your eyes closed. FUCK.

[sokkastyles]

One of the traits of Katara's character that I love very much is her anger. I mean, not the anger and rage that corrodes the soul and you can't see anything behind it, but the righteous anger that is caused by the injustice of the world in which she lives. Her whole arch is that it's okay to be angry. No one has ever told me this before. Her anger is the engine. And anger can go hand in hand with love.

Katara is angry because her brother is a jerk who pisses her off, she is angry because some assholes started a war in the world and caused a lot of grief, she is angry because one asshole killed her mom and now she herself has to take her place, and she was deprived of a normal childhood, she He's angry because he can't keep up with the same wave of fun as all the other guys. And in her anger, she is so beautiful, I like that her emotions are expressed as openly as possible, many in the fandom call her hysterical (women who express their discontent out loud in the crowd are branded hysterical, even if they have all the arguments in the world to be dissatisfied), but for me this is the most It's amazing what she has, because with all that, she's so kind.

Yes, the world is terrible, but you still have to help people, so if you turn away from them, then who will help them? She has so much anger that she manages to use for good. Probably, the puppeteer is such a wonderful episode, because Hama is who Ktara could be if she let her anger go in the wrong direction, despite the fact that Katara is an incredible magician, she could do things much worse than Hama did, but she would never.

I do think that people tend to dichotomize Katara's anger as part of her "dark side" instead of recognizing that it is, like you said, what motivates her to do good. Righteous anger can be a force for good, it can be healing. Especially if you're told you shouldn't be angry. This is something that I think is present in both Katara and Zuko's stories, respectively and together, as both needed that closure and the ability to say "it's not wrong for me to be angry about what happened to me, it's not wrong that I don't forgive."

I think that's a bit part of The Southern Raiders and also why Aang's harping on forgiveness in that episode comes across as tone deaf. Aang himself carries a lot of anger which the show mentions but never really addresses, in favor of painting him as the kind magical poc who is endlessly forgiving and optimistic towards his oppressors. Which is both convenient and horrific because he is literally the last of his people. There is no one left to say "I do not forgive you," no one left to be angry, no one left to ask "where is the justice?" Instead we get some moralizing about how being angry makes you just as bad as your oppressors, which is why I've never bought that Aang's preaching about forgiveness is him "respecting his culture." It feels like colonial apologia written by and for Americans, which is what it is.

[geeks-universe]

The Fallen pt. 5

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Warnings: smut, idk normal apocalypse type stuff

A/N: I’m not super happy with this chapter so I’m probably gonna edit it again later

Tag List: @lacontroller1991 @giggle-shade @tesha-i-guess @looneylooomis @pookiesnatcher @jayden-okayden @dovefeatheredraven @angelcritterz

Sometime during the night, when there were no doubts or fear, Cooper had pulled you closer into him, his chest firmly against your back, legs tangled in a mess of warmth.

Inevitably, when the memories of your long life crept in and dragged you from your peaceful slumber, you awoke to the smell of gunpowder and blood. Cooper’s arm was tight around your middle, holding you close, like he was afraid you’d slip away during the night.

You allowed yourself a brief moment, made longer by your own indulgence, where you let yourself feel.

Long gone were your doe eyes and breathless smiles. The world you inhabited required a steel stomach and an unbendable spine. For the past two centuries you’d denied yourself that spark, the bit of yourself that always felt so much- too much.

Your heart was a traitorous thing, had always been far too bright. Once, you’d prided yourself on that, on the love for others that was just so effortless.

You doubted yourself now, thought that maybe you didn’t even know what love was. Maybe you were just a sanctimonious asshole who didn’t care about others, just wanted to ride the high of moral superiority.

It was hard to think that, to view yourself as incapable of love, when the warm, even breaths of Cooper Howard on the back of your neck pumped fire through your veins.

Could it be possible, for you to feel affection- love- for him?

There was some amount of fondness, to be sure- something in the way your heart fluttered, your eyes gravitated to him.

But love?

You’d never been in love. You had loved before, many people in your life, but not romantically.

Not the kind that would put you on your knees.

“You look lost, sister.”

Amenadiel’s voice was deep, concerned.

You heaved a sigh, rolling out of Cooper’s arms. The corners of your lips turned down at the loss of him, body protesting your isolation.

“Twice in the same year, that has to be a record.”

The amusement in your voice wasn’t matched by your brother, his dark eyes trained on the man that’d been cuddled up to you for half the night.

“You should be careful,” he cautioned you, and though he kept his stature straight, you could see the worry in the tenseness of his arms, the tightening of his jaw.

You were his baby sister. Generally angels were unconcerned with the affairs of man- more spectator than intervenor. They remained in their realm, governing over humans only after they’d lived their mortal lives.

You, Lucifer, and Amenadiel were exceptions.

Three sides of the same coin, three siblings, three realms- heaven, hell, and earth.

“Since when have you ever cared about my choices?”

It was unfair, a poisonous comment from the lips of a little girl who was still bitter about the way life turned out.

Amenadiel had visited you, more so than any sibling. Granted, you and Lucifer had been given more than just proverbial prisons. After his return to hell, some years before the world turned to shit, he had been caught in a trap once again, unable to leave the confines of hell.

And you…

Well, your wings were tattered, brutal scars to remind you of what you were, but to never let you leave.

Clipped wings for a trapped bird.

“I’ve always cared.”

There was a softness there, in the way his eyes dropped. He was an undeniably intimidating man, but he’d always brought himself to your level when he spoke to you, almost scared of you seeing him as anything other than an overbearing, yet loving, big brother.

“Why are you here?”

The question wasn’t as venomous as the last, genuine curiosity momentarily winning out over an never ending feud.

“What happened to you?”

His question was so sudden, like he’d been holding onto it for a lifetime, waiting for the right time to get his answer.

“You were God’s Golden Warrior, his most fierce and compassionate child.”

An angry humor burned its way up your throat, culminating in something halfway between a laugh and a growl. Amenadiel, as patient as ever, let the rage light up your features.

“What happened?” You stood then, your full height not even nearing your brother’s, but there was no denying the spark of intimidation in your stance.

You’d been God’s Golden Warrior first, then Hell’s Champion.

Titles given not by privilege, but by prowess.

There were few who were capable of moving with such speed and precision as you. Your body and mind were weapons, capable of a destruction you never sought out.

Instead, you chose to be a healer, to let the divinity that flooded your veins be used for good.

You couldn’t heal now, not since the day the bombs fell- since you fell- and that bit of knowledge hurt worse than the disappointment on Amenadiel’s face, but just barely.

“Look at this place,” your voice rose with your anger, a sneer on your lips. “At them.”

Your brother did.

Guilt flashed in his eyes, followed by quiet acceptance.

“I watched this happen. We all watched this happen.”

It was so fucking hard to get Amenadiel to understand the thoughts that plagued your every move. Anger was easy, it shadowed the guilt and overwhelming sadness, like a rabid animal protecting its den.

Why couldn’t he see it? Why couldn’t any of them see it?

“We do not dictate their lives,” he reminded you sternly, his arms crossing over his chest.

Your heart squeezed at the image of him, at the same expression he’d given to you so many times in your youth, bewildered with your silly antics.

“No, we just let billions of people suffer for the mistakes of a few,” you muttered bitterly.

The air, nearly frozen in time with the power of Amenadiel, grew thick with an exhausted argument. For millennia it’d been like this, each visit ending in similar disappointment. Maybe the damage was irreparable, maybe you would never reconnect with him the way you once did.

“Don’t forget who you are.”

And with that, he was gone.

You were left to your own musings once more, time ticking by like normal once again.

His words shouldn’t have bothered you, shouldn’t have crawled deep into your skin and taken root in your chest, but they did.

Don’t forget who you are.

Your legs twitched, a reminder of the position you’d been in less than a day ago.

Cooper had dropped you to your knees and you’d just let him.

You’d let him take whatever pleasure he wanted from you, had let him pump his anger into you until he’d thrown his head back with his release.

Your thoughts simmered, then blistered, dissatisfaction rearing its head.

You were not his toy, his little plaything to use as he pleased.

That little display had been for his benefit, but it wasn’t who you were. If he wanted you, he’d have to earn you.

You were gone before either of your companions awoke, Maze following closely behind as you prepared some rations for Lucy and Cooper.

Food wasn’t something you’d had in a long time.

Truthfully, you didn’t need it. Without eating, you’d survive, just as unchanged as the past several thousand years- water too. However, it hurt.

You still felt hunger, thirst, just as a human did. It didn’t debilitate you, or even make you unwell, you just felt a constant pain, an ache you couldn’t consciously fill. Humans needed food and water to survive, to even stand a fighting chance.

So, you lived in that pain.

You sighed, holding out your palm with a little bit of spare canned meat for Maze. The dog took it graciously, scarfing down the humble portion.

Lucy and Maze were easier to understand and interact with. Honestly, they were a bit refreshing. Well, Lucy was, Maze was very much a good dog, but that was usually the case.

Good humans?

Well, those were in pretty short supply these days.

It was easy to understand though, and you gave humans a lot of grace. After all, this world was a hard place that took and took, relentless in its efforts to either strike you down or make you another monster in the cog of the apocalypse.

“That smells better than I thought anything on the surface could,” Lucy mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

She sat up slowly, bringing her knees to her chest as you passed her the sad excuse for a meal.

“Eat up, it’ll be a long day,” you told her, scratching Maze’s chin as you lounged a little more comfortably.

The instinct to spread your wings stretched at your spine, tamped down only by the presence of your new friend.

She hummed contentedly, taking a few bites slowly, like she was both savoring the flavor and debating on asking a question.

It seemed her curiosity won out as she swallowed another bite.

“Where will you go after I find my dad?”

You let the inquiry hang in the air as you thought on it, idly tapping your fingers on the top of your knee. You hadn’t given it a lot of thought, too focused on trying to give someone a happiness you could never have.

Maybe it’d heal a piece of yourself in the process.

“I don’t really know,” you admitted slowly, cautiously.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Cooper stir. He was awake, even if he pretended not to be.

You wouldn’t call him out though. If he wanted to listen in, so be it.

“You could-“ she paused, shaking off a bit of dust before she continued. “If you wanted to, you could come with me to my vault.”

The control Cooper always had a desperate hold on reared out of his hands, his body shooting up as if he’d woken up in a startle. You didn’t answer Lucy, didn’t bother to tell her if only because you knew it’d drive Cooper mad.

And he looked particularly put out as he grabbed his own portion of the food.

Where Lucy was well mannered and talkative, Coop took exactly what he needed and didn’t bother with conversation.

You sighed, getting to your feet and slinging your pack back on.

“Now that everybody’s had their breakfast, let’s get moving.”

Lucy was quick to join you, worry and fear chewing at her with each day that passed by. There wasn’t much left to the journey, about a day and a half if you had to guess, but there was a fairly important stop you wanted to make first.

“We’re going to make a stop tonight,” you commented, not bothering to check if Coop was following as you started making your way away from your temporary camp.

“And then we’ll be there tomorrow?” Lucy confirmed.

Your nod was enough of a confirmation for her, and instead of leaving her to her own devices, to stew in the depths of her concern, you engaged in conversation with her.

It was unimportant, for the most part, just questions about her family and her interests.

She’d told you about her brother, Norm, who she clearly had a deep affection for. Then she talked about her dad, and how close they’d been.

It was so… normal. Mundane. Domestic.

Before the war, you weren’t as involved with humans. You’d always kept them at a bit of a distance, scared to engage.

(And considering the first time you’d really tangled yourself in human affairs they claimed you to be the daughter of Zeus, married you to a Spartan, then started an entire pointless war over the male ego- you weren’t quick to re-enter society.)

But, eventually, with the help of Lucifer, you’d made friends. Integrated yourself, if you will.

Life had been a dream then, loneliness chased away by your friends and family. Lucifer had Chloe and Rory, Amenadiel had Linda and Charlie. Maze tormented you daily with very painful sparring sessions. (With the utmost love in her heart, mind you.)

Then Lucifer had been forced to return to hell, chained to his responsibility in the afterlife. Not long after, the world went to shit and the friends you’d had were all whisked away in some form or fashion, to hell or to heaven, depending on if they were Team Lucifer or Amenadiel.

You’d recognized the faraway look in Cooper’s expression too, like her explanation of her life was forcing him to face his own past.

Briefly, you wondered what that looked like.

He hadn’t really told you anything about his family. Hell, before the past couple of weeks you hadn’t told him anything about yours either.

Then, before Lucy could ask too many questions about the state of your own family, you inquired about Maximus.

There was a sadness when she spoke of him, like the uncertainty of the situation was a death sentence.

And maybe it was.

The Wasteland had a habit of making people disappear. It was so easy to just drift away, become little more than a distant memory and an occasional anecdote while the world moved on.

The conversation was enough to keep you occupied, to distract you from the impending walk down nostalgia lane.

For the most part, it was just you and Lucy talking, Cooper still deep in thought over the events of the past day. It was better that way, though, easier to focus on meaningless conversation than the streets around you.

The closer you got, the more you recognized.

The streets were so different now, not teeming with life as they’d once been.

Lux.

Los Angeles had become little more than a husk of itself, shells of buildings littering the streets, the desert sweeping in from all sides. Many factions had laid claim to the ruins, had rebuilt the city with scraps.

Through it all though, Lux had stood.

It wasn’t in perfect condition, but it did maintain itself far better than nearly every other building.

Not that it was particularly surprising, there were many, many divine artifacts locked away, for the protection of others.

“What is this place?” Lucy broke the silence, a hand blocking out the harsh sun as she followed the building to the top.

“It used to be a nightclub,” you shrugged, your boots crunching on glass shards.

Most of the windows had been smashed out, and when you entered the front, you were unsurprised to find that it’d been trashed, then picked clean. Beyond the general structure of the bottom floor, there was little recognizable content left. Even the poles had been taken down, lost to some raid or another.

You could almost picture it, your mind tugging you back to a time you’d walked through the throngs of people, pressing your way to the elevator to meet your brother.

This time, there wasn’t a crowd, just your two companions following in a hushed silence.

“It works?” Lucy gestured to the open doors of the elevator that you’d stepped into, your hand tracing the buttons reverently.

“Yeah, it’ll work,” you promised, a thousand little moments echoing in the press of a button.

You typed in the code, the one Lucifer had used to protect his property prior to leaving, and the elevator whirred back at you.

If you wanted to get technical, it had been Chloe’s idea. She wasn’t interested in coming back to Lux after Lucy left, haunted by the memories. She knew she’d meet him again, one day- but until then, she tried to maintain some semblance of normal while honoring Lucifer.

Thus, you’d all decided that you’d take Lux, and in doing so, you could maintain the artifacts that your brother had collected. You’d agreed only after drowning every surface in bleach.

He might’ve settled down with Chloe eventually, but he’d more than likely defiled every inch of the penthouse before that.

The doors moved with a groan, shutting you and your small party in as it ascended to the place you’d once considered home. Your heart twinged, each whine of the machinery bringing you closer to familiarity.

“How’d you know all this, sweetheart?”

Cooper finally broke his silence, the same one he’d had for the majority of the day, to ask. You weren’t quite sure if you were thankful for it or not, comforted by his voice but also frustrated with his actions.

“This,” you tapped impatiently against the rusting bar, nodding your head as the elevator screeched to a halt, doors springing open slowly. “Was my brother’s place.”

The look Cooper gave you could best be described as suspicious. You looked like you were in your mid-twenties, and this club was very obviously from before the war over 200 years ago.

You ignored it, however, instead calming the pounding of your heart as you stepped into the penthouse your brother had made his home for many years.

The lights above clicked on, a generator long dormant still capable of producing electricity. You weren’t surprised, Lucifer had really spared no expense on this place, because he hated inconvenience.

It was largely untouched, a few smashed windows and a heavy layer of dust the only real mark of the passage of time. It was still, quiet, lifeless. Your fingers idly tapped on the keys of the piano, untuned notes reverberating in the space around you as a brief flicker of life passed through the space.

You’d loved here, had once reunited with your family and friends, had held them all close as the weight of years and years in isolation forced you to your knees. The note died, the memory too, and you stepped away, towards the well stocked bar that was mostly intact.

“Now that’s a bar,” Coop whistled lowly, picking up the nearest bottle and investigating.

“We can stay here for the night,” you told them, dropping your pack on the couch, dust swirling at the upheaval. “There’s only two rooms, but the couch is comfy.”

Lucy was walking the perimeter with curiosity, hands tracing over the luxurious items with interest. She’d never seen objects like this, surrounded by metal and conformity. Everything in the penthouse was unique and expensive, millennia of history blended into fashionable decor.

Maze followed suit, sniffing and investigating every corner and crevice of the abandoned penthouse.

The distinct sound of a fridge opening made you turn towards the bar and cringe.

“I’d just leave that closed,” you commented, a shiver of disgust involuntarily crawling down your spine.

“What in the hell is this?” Coop pulled out a very brightly colored goop, one that you’d been too horrified to even touch after Lucifer had left, and then the world had ended.

“It’s uh,” you cleared your throat. “Lube.”

Amusement twitched on the ghoul’s features as he cracked the old jar open.

“Please don’t,” you muttered, not bothering to watch the scene unfold.

He’d specially ordered it from some Korean sex store, claiming that it tasted like bubblegum and caused all “bits and bobs to tingle”.

You slipped back into your brother’s room, pushing aside the old painting to get into the vault. The thrum of divinity always grew in intensity near artifacts, but this specific one lit a fire in your chest.

Lucifer had felt a connection to the Blade of Death, and Amenadiel had always been affixed to the Key, but you…

You clicked the lock open- the combination was Chloe’s birthday- and reached out, power strumming in the air.

Your fingers closed around the Medallion of Life, the world righting itself a little more around you. The three divine artifacts that made up the Flaming Sword, the three children of God that made up the three realms- there was an unbreakable tether between you and the medallion, which you’d strung around your neck.

“What’s that?”

It was Lucy who asked, who had followed you into your brother's room.

“Family heirloom,” you said, tucking the medallion beneath your jumpsuit.

Her eyes slid to the bed, still perfectly made, gazing with longing. Exhaustion had hit your party hard, the long days of traveling with the lack of adequate rations and an overbearing sun had left your companions little more than a tangle of limbs at night.

“Have the bed,” you told her, turning to walk out of the room.

“Hey,” she interrupted the quiet gently, thoughtfully. “How is it possible? That your brother owned this place?”

You breathed out a sigh, pausing momentarily.

“I’m a lot older than I look.”

Cooper was still rifling around the bar when you returned, his hat perched precariously on a shelf. Maze had jumped onto the couch, satisfied with her assessment of the new space and now content to just doze off.

Your gazes met, and instead of offering him the second room- your room- you nodded your head in a gentle goodnight, and walked the familiar path to rest. Your fingertips traced the walls, nostalgia threatening to bubble up, to form tears in your eyes.

You wouldn’t let it, wouldn’t let memories drown you in sorrow.

Don’t forget who you are.

But you wanted to.

You wanted to be anything but that person, but the person who hurt when others did, who couldn’t stand to watch anyone in pain.

The door to your room creaked open, the bright colors faded to vignette, like an old film. It still looked relatively the same- closet full of color, books lining the wall, retired weapons collecting dust like trophies.

Your bed looked so warm and inviting, and as much as you wanted to fall into the sheets and sleep for a decade, you decided it was best to maintain some amount of hygiene.

You chucked your boots off, throwing them somewhere in the wide, open space. Your socks and jumpsuit were quick to follow, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

The dresser drawers groaned with disuse, but opened with relative ease. You snagged an old t-shirt you’d stolen from some one night stand you didn’t bother remembering- the name of some old band plastered on the front in an eerie font- and a new pair of panties. Considering it’d been 200 years, you were surprised that they were in such good condition.

They smelled a little dusty and stale, but honestly, that was better than anything the Wasteland produced.

Just as you’d been about to slither into bed and sleep like the dead, the jingle of spurs sounded down the hallway, headed straight for you. Coop was slow, controlled, like he was having a conversation with himself on the walk over.

You listened intently, sitting on the edge of your bed as he decided whether he wanted to speak to you or not.

Slowly, with more caution than you’d ever seen from him, your door opened. The expression he wore was hesitant, and your heart squeezed at seeing some of the confidence in his swagger chipped away.

It struck you then, that you’d seen him play a similar role sometime back in his golden days. He’d been an apologetic cowboy, begging his lady love for forgiveness. She’d given it to him then, had confessed her undying love and then they’d rode off into the sunset, presumably to live happily ever after.

Not for the first time, you wondered if he saw the scene play in his head, if he remembered a time when all the bad disappeared with a shout of “cut”.

“What do you need?”

He shifted from foot to foot, an internal debate, before he took a step forward.

“The dog’s taking up the couch.”

A flimsy excuse. A real one, if it were you, but you knew he didn’t truly care about the comfort of Maze.

“And?”

You quirked a brow, not giving any grace. If he wanted something, he’d have to ask- nicely.

He sucked on his teeth, fingers running the brim of his hat.

“Really gonna make a man beg, sweetheart?“

“I usually do,” you met him with a pointed stare, leaning back on your elbows.

His gaze ran the length of your legs, drinking in the sight of your bare, smooth skin. Like a man possessed, he fell before you, dropped straight to his knees.

“I ain’t ever begged before,” he murmured, the tips of his fingers ghosting along your ankles. “Ain’t gonna start now.”

A smile tugged at your lips- slow and sweet, a woman who knew her worth.

“Not now,” you agreed with a hum, watching from beneath your lashes as he pressed the skin of your ankle to his lips, moving up a few inches before repeating the action. “But you will.”

A shiver ran the length of your spine when his touch reached the inside of your thigh, a smirk pulling on his mouth. He tugged at your underwear, sliding it down your legs at a torturous pace.

“Is that so?”

His breath was warm against your skin, the vibrations from his voice pressed against your legs. It was a sight to behold, him on his knees before you, worshipping each inch of yourself bared to him.

“Pretty as a peach,” he breathed, eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed cunt.

You hummed teasingly, the sound turning to a breathy moan of his name as he bit the soft flesh of your thigh.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Coop,” you told him, leveling him with an even stare.

He kept eye contact as he licked a long, hard stripe up your cunt. Your breath stuttered, muscles tensing at the sensation.

“Neither am I.”

You barely had time to register the words, to understand the insulation, before he pressed his face against you, his tongue flicking desperately against your clit.

You cursed, hands knocking the hat off his head as you grabbed onto the back of his neck, holding him there. Your back arched when he sucked, his teeth just barely scraping against your sensitive nub.

He was ravenous, his tongue finding a harsh rhythm against your clit, sucking up every drop of wetness you gave him like he’d been without water for a week. The pressure in your stomach unraveled, muscles straining under the building tension.

Your body sung, pleasure climbing higher and higher.

Coop pulled away, and you nearly sobbed at the loss of his mouth, before his fingers- somehow devoid of his gloves in the chaos- were pressing into you.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” his accent was thick, honeyed.

You had maybe a second before-

A wanton moan tore itself from your parted lips, his name a prayer on your lips as his other hand held you open, his tongue relentless against your slick heat.

His finger was pumping in and out of you, quickly joined by another as he stretched you open for him.

You were saying his name over and over now, pressure building with each swipe of his tongue or curl of his finger. You were pleading with him, at the edge of it all wanting to just plunge into your pleasure.

Your legs flexed, tried to close, but Cooper held them open as your chest fluttered. Each touch was fire, so hot your body burned in an inferno of your desire.

Cooper. Cooper. Fuck.

Unintelligible words fell from your lips, growing in volume as you fell into the feel of him, pleasure bursting through your veins. You might’ve screamed his name then, might’ve drew blood with your fingernails as he tongue fucked you through your orgasm.

It took you a moment to catch your breath, and another to realize he was crawling up your body, pride plastered in the smirk he wore.

You’d give it to him, that was one hell of an orgasm.

But, you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. Not yet.

“Coop,” you warned, holding your hand against his chest.

The heart that beat beneath your palm was pounding with excitement.

“Darlin’,” he cooed the syllables, sweet as sugar.

If you were made of lesser stuff, you might’ve leaned into his touch, might’ve bunched his shirt in your fist and pressed your lips to his- but you weren’t, and you didn’t. Instead, you met his gaze, keeping him suspended above you.

You rocked to the side then, your leg wrapped around his middle while you flipped the both of you over, pinning him beneath you. It surprised him, the strength you displayed, so unlike when he’d had you on your knees.

You didn’t have to say anything then, didn’t even have to tell him what you were thinking. He could see it, could recognize the look in your eyes, and nodded.

He laid back, observing you above him. You wished you could tell what he was thinking, what caused the furrow of his now-gone brows.

A note floated between you, more joining with a skilled precision to create a beautiful melody.

A familiar melody.

Coop was already pushing you off him, feet pounding against the ground as you struggled to throw a pair of old sweatpants on. You were tripping over yourself, all uncoordinated limbs and excitable actions and you ran out the door and into the hallway, a few feet behind Coop.

He was already slinging insults, his gun cocked with a threat by the time you rounded the corner. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, couldn’t even see the worried expression on Lucy’s brow as you stared at the piano, the very same that had laid abandoned, silent, for 200 years.

There, in the center of the room, with a wide, devilish smile and a pristine suit, fingers sprawled across the keys, sat Lucifer.

[rei-ismyname]

Merry X-Men Holiday Special Highlights

Happy holidays, everyone! It's been about a year since I started posting about the X-Men on Tumblr and if it wasn't for all the lovely folks who engage and discuss it wouldn't be so enriching. I'm super anti-capitalist and anti cultural Christianity so it's less 'Happy Christmas' and more 'I wish y'all the best.' ❤️💚

I wonder if Lockheed speaks Hebrew

Here's Kitty Pryde celebrating Chanukah in Genosha and remembering her father. Leading the special with an explicitly Jewish character observing a Jewish holiday is great, but the notion of saving the world by becoming president of the USA is a dubious one. The USA is an imperialist entity built on deep seated systemic inequality and worse. Even the most progressive of presidents is beholden to that. It doesn't mean we shouldn't try, but Kitty is kidding herself about 'saving the world the right way.'

Nature Girl hates Christmas, and it's hard to argue with her reasons. The parts about warmth are weird to me because I live in Australia where Christmas is always hot AF. One of the few days I hope for rain, tbh.

I'm not sure if Bobby quite understood what 'eschewing capitalism' means but this looks pretty fun. That tie dye X-Men tee slaps and I want one. I wonder what Kubark thinks of this human holiday.

This story with Magneto coming around on the pointlessness of lighting menorahs does the rounds every now and then, though not as much as I'd expect. The kids are particularly plucky and eloquent, and the one who emphatically tells Magneto he's wrong is a legend. I'm fond of any story where Magneto rethinks his beliefs, and this is a nice one.

It took me a while to notice that this is written by Charlamagne tha God, possibly because it's kinda funny to imagine Ororo knowing who that is. Idk why, I've just never seen any stories indicating that she's into Hip Hop culture. I like that it's a rejection of turning the other cheek where bigoted assholes are concerned. You can't reach some people, and there's no obligation to exhaust yourself trying. Fuck em. The Michelle Obama mention is a bit on the nose.

Old man Logan is cutting firewood and being gruff, as he does. Kurt gives him a picture of himself, which is a baller move. I was under the impression that this Logan was an alternate reality Logan, and doesn't have a particularly close relationship with these X-Men. Nothing about Logans makes sense, sometimes you just have to accept it as cute and cool.

Glob does stuff! Is that meant to be mistletoe? We don't have it down here. He nails up some plant matter and then chills by himself. Little bit depressing, but I can't talk.

Bobby Drake has a party! Interestingly neither Jewish nor Christian, but a pagan holiday that's become a bit more popular (like Christmas and Easter.) Hope is watching Cable do... something, in a recorded message from when she was the universe's most unpopular baby.

Some kids are sharing the rumour that Magneto merked Santa, which is hilarious. It's obviously untrue, not least because Santa is Mags' mutant brother. Kurt lectures them.

Jubilee beats up Arcade (yay!) and quotes Home Alone, rescuing Shogo (who's spending this Christmas as a dragon in Otherworld.) I really don't like Arcade, though he has done two excellent things. Torturing Sinister and creating the Proletarian - worker's hero of the Soviet Union.

Nightcrawler and Storm show up and Christmas is really just a backdrop for a light anti-capitalist tale. Cool! I'd expect Cyclops to be in this book, but no. It's Chuck-less as well.

[badkitty3000]

What did you think was ooc for Five?

Great question, and I have already covered it a bit in my post here, but I could probably yammer on all day about it, so I'll add some thoughts.

Season 1 -3 Five was focused, determined, manic, arrogant, sometimes mean, violent, out-spoken, and full of love for his family above all. Yes, he insulted them and had no time or patience for their shit, but considering everything he'd been through and what he was up against, there was a reason for it. Season 4 Five? Ok, yeah, I can buy that maybe he was depressed and didn't really know what to do with himself anymore. Myself and others have certainly written him that way a few times. But, damn, he spent like all of season 3 bitching about wanting to be retired and here he could be! He could have played the stock market a few times, bought a little place somewhere, picked up a nice lady at the local Bingo hall and lived his peaceful live he deserved. Instead, he works (inexplicably) for the government and just wanders around with his sad little trenchcoat and CIA-issued pistol and flashlight, taking orders from The Man and just...existing I guess. I could see if they made it so that he joined the CIA to get inside info on Reginald and he had spent the last 6 years quietly plotting to take him down and get his revenge or set the world straight again. But no...he apparently hadn't even tried to look into anything Reggie was doing? Like he was just "*shrug*, it's probably fine".

Five loves his family above all else. We know this. If not, he wouldn't have spent decades alone fighting to get back to them and save all their stupid asses. Now, all of sudden, he just doesn't seem to care? Yes, he's present and has obviously kept in touch. He goes to the birthday party, etc. But there is zero interaction with Klaus, or his nieces, or even Viktor. When at the end, he finally gets some fight back (although for completely absurd reasons) and snaps at Luther, the whole family gasps in shock like this is some new occurence that Five would be mean to them. And he'd said much worse to them before! So, that leads me to believe he just has spent the last 6 years being a completely different person and everyone forgot he's actually an asshole?

And back to the family thing...fighting his brother over his wife? Falling in love with Lila, the same person who: conspired behind his and Diego's back in Season 2, was raised by his villainous boss, was the daughter of two innocent people he killed, tried to kill him with her fists, a frying pan, her feet, a knife, electrocution; and who he tried to kill multiple times as well. Yes, they have had time to heal some wounds and they have a shared traumatic experience with The Handler but come on...he would never! He would never be attracted to her that way. He would never betray Diego that way. And he certainly wouldn't fight him over her, not when she and Diego are married and have kids together. I don't care how many years they were together alone...just no. Best friends? Sure. Lovers? Fuck no.

Physically, where was his prowess? Five is supposed to be the all-time badass assassin, trained in martial arts and weaponry. His body is young at 19-20 years old, and at the peak of his physical fitness. Even without his powers he should be able to kick some ass, or at least try to. And then when he does have his powers, he just doesn't know how to use them correctly anymore? And again, he looks slow and weak in a fight. His solution to taking down the big Bennifer blob thing was to fire an entire clip at long range at it, and then just go "huh...weird that didn't work". Why wasn't he looking around the mall for a weapon? An axe? Something else to fight against it! That's what he does...that's his THING! We were fucking robbed of a Five-centric badass fight scene, when there were so many opportunities for one. Hell, he could have taken down a room full of Keepers with a fucking ballpoint pen while singing along to Abba's Dancing Queen! Why didn't we get that?

Meeting with Reginald. Remember in Season two when Five met with Reggie at the Tiki bar? He sat and had a drink with him, but it was still tension-filled with a lot of emotion there. Then in Season 3, when he was basically like "you're a sadistic lunatic that is going to kill all of us" and got right in his old man's face and told him he was a giant dick? This time...he's just standing around Reggie's house shooting the shit and not even acting like he's mad. That is just not the same guy. I realize this was supposed to be Viktor's fight with Reggie, but they still could have shown Five to have a little emotion there.

So, there you have it. I could probably keep going, but this is way too long as it is. It's just heartbreaking, really. This character that we have all come to love for all of his complexities and faults and heroics was just diminished to a one-dimensional, uninteresting character with no regard for his family. Basically, just undoing three season's worth of plot and character development. And it's not Aidan's fault. He did the best he could with the shit he was given, and I feel sorry for him. For as much as we love this character, Five was his. He made him come to life and there's not many other actors his age that could have pulled that off. So, I'm sad this was his end. They really did him dirty.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Brother Mine (Winchester!Reader x Sam and Dean Winchester PLATONIC)

@xweirdo101x Hello, hope you are having a good day/nightI was wondering if I could request a Sam and Dean having an older brother (maybe by one or 2 years)  maybe they haven't seen reader in a couple years. The brother's finally get to see reader when he pulls them out of trouble?

(okay, author's note in that Sam is 22 at the start of the show and Dean is 26. The show spans the same amount of time as in the real world, technically, so Sam ends the show at 37 while Dean ends it at 41. Meaning this elder brother is probably 28 at the start and ends it 43. Good lord, that show went on for a while lol)

"So, explain to me why the two of you chuckleheads are in jail in freaking Kentucky? Because last I heard, Sam was going to college in California and you were still hunting boogeymen with Dad."

The two young men in front of you share a glance as you bail them out of some podunk town's drunk tank.

"Dad's... in trouble." Sam sighs, finally, to a harsh glare from Dean.

"Good riddance to bad assholes." you growl, and Dean clenches his fist

You and your little brothers don't exactly have a great relationship.

With the better part of seventeen years of your lives dedicated to hunting what lies in the darkness, spurred on by your domineering and obsessive father, Dean always has blamed you for "abandoning the family" and "breaking Dad's heart" because you left the life at nineteen and left seventeen year old Dean and thirteen year old Sam behind.

You did the amateur boxing circuit for a while before you were hired on to an indie security company and ended up catching the eye of the owner who trained you until you took over, eventually buying the company and running it.

You know a lot of your money was sent to help pay off any expenses Sam had, but you don't know if it was used for that or blown for motel stays or alcohol or sawed-off-shotguns or salt slugs for Dean and John.

You tried to stay in touch with Sam, but it was awkward. And he wanted space away from "family."

So you know neither of them would ever contact you unless something real bad happened (and apparently Dean's grudge was so strong that he wouldn't even inform you that John went missing)

Though to be perfectly honest, it wouldn't really matter to you anyway, and that's a matter to discuss with your therapist.

"I can't believe you called him." Dean grumbles, like a child.

"Sam apparently knew you'd need a responsible adult." you snark, and he grimaces. "Now, care to tell me why you're road-tripping?"

Sam looks at you. "My girlfriend. Jess. Whatever got Mom... it got her too."

"And you think that Dad is close to tracking it down and that's why he vanished." you sigh.

"Lemme guess, you're gonna tell us that there's nothing that goes bump in the night?" Dean sneers, looking at Sam.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna tell you that it's not your job to chase it. It's not your duty."

"We save people. We hunt things. It's the family business." Dean growls.

"Jesus, Dean, do you hear how you sound?" you groan. "It's this kind of obsession that I tried to get away from! A terrible thing happened to Mom, and there was nothing any of us could do to stop it. It's not our fault, and it's not our responsibility to chase whatever did it down!"

"It's just gonna keep hurting people. We've seen it happening. It's gathering other people like Sam."

"Fuck." you growl.

Dean senses an in. "You were even better than me, back in the day. Remember when you ganked that skinchanger?"

He says "you were only 14" with as much reverence and awe as you do disgust and shame.

"I can't convince either of you to... let the chips fall where they may?"

"Nope." Dean pops the "p" sound.

"Sorry, no." Sam adds.

"I don't wanna kill things anymore, Dean. Not even bad things. But I do care about you both. So here. I'm going to help you, on one condition. We're going to all come back to my place in California, and Sam is going to apply to fucking law school, and you're gonna think about what you really want with your life, Dean."

They think.

They look at each other.

They nod.

"Welcome back." Dean grins.

"You better not still drive that shitty Impala and listen to crappy 80s rock."

Sam winces.

[boynarcing]

too spacious when you’re lonely

leon s. kennedy x male!reader

word count. 5.3k

cws. incest, stepbrother leon, pee, reader w bad bladder issues lol, crude language, handjobs, humping, OOC leon (duh), boring mid sexual encounter cause it’s leon, crude language

note. this is my first fic including dark(?) content so it’s wonky and mid and the overall flow of it is boring but whatever I tried my best. It’s not necessarily dark it’s just weird and icky and me just rambling lol :3 also the pee part comes out of nowhere sorry LMAO like ur just flashed

Leon Kennedy has always been the type to lead girls on, whether it be for one thing or another, he just didn’t care. Everything was a one-time thing to him. That hook-up last week, that promise he made to a buddy, that girl he had accidentally gotten pregnant… it all went in one ear and out the other.

He was a massive asshole, that much was clear to anyone with basic comprehension levels. But no one gave a fuck, because as long as you’re hot enough you’re given a free pass to do whatever you want. He knew that he was hot, yeah, but that’s like, normal. He’s only ever been surrounded by hot people his entire life. Why would he want to willingly hang out with someone who isn’t? That’s weird. No hot person does that unless they want something from you. Or they feel bad, which is probably worse.

Leon doesn’t hang out with you at all. He’s your stepbrother, so one would think he’d at least spare you a glance or a nod, right? No, no, not at all. You’re a fleeting thought to him. An “oh yeah, I forgot” type of topic. And that’s fine. It’s not like you’re the most socially indulgent type of person in the world. You’re not anything interesting. That’s why you’re not worth bullying either. Not worth some abrupt pantsing or name-calling— whatever big brothers are supposed to do with their younger siblings. Nada.

That kind of irks you. Kind of. Leon goes out of his way to make anyone he hangs out with miserable by just being himself, yet he avoids you like the plague.

It’s not purposeful, ‘cause he couldn’t care less about you— and that’s what grinds your gears.

Your mom marries some random cop who just so happens to have a kid your age, and now what? Aren’t you supposed to be a part of some picture-perfect family now? Because that’s not what it feels like. It just feels odd. You have to go downstairs for breakfast and dinner now, have a movie night every Friday, and whatever other cheesy nonsense your mom deems necessary. Where was all of that before? It’s annoying to think about. You don’t want to get all buddy-buddy with people you don’t even know or could care less about.

They probably feel the same way about you, which, whatever. The feeling is mutual. There’s just something about Leon in particular that gets on your nerves the most.

It’s just everything about him. His stupid blue eyes, his stupid side-swept hair, and his especially stupid smile. You’d punch his nose back into place if you could. Everyone else adores him. They practically kiss his ass and pucker up their lips to give him a nice rimming. It’s disgusting.

It’s a no-brainer that you’re jealous. Yeah, and what of it? It’s not like you want people to start looking at you as if you shit gold or something, but would it kill someone to notice you every once in a while? What’s Leon got that you don’t? Who’s dick is he sucking to get this many people tailing after him like lost puppies? And where can you meet them? All this who, what, why questioning is starting to hurt your brain, that’s all you know.

It’s hot in your room, and the ceiling fan’s low speed only manages to thrust more warm air towards you. The useless thing never works the way it’s supposed to. Restless, you sit up in your bed, running a hand through your mussed-up hair with an anxious sigh.

The sound of lively chatting and dishes clattering downstairs makes your ears perk, straining to hear what is going on. Something, something about your mom leaving for work soon, something else about your stepdad needing to fix the A/C… you lose interest and stop listening, eyes darting over to the alarm clock beside your bed, messily decorated with stickers and other knick-knacks.

9:04 AM.

It’s a Wednesday, which means both of your parents will be busy. Normally, you’d enjoy a day to yourself, but not this one. Wednesdays, if you’re unlucky, Leon will stay home to invite his friends over, the cute ones that have no personality or self-respect. If you’re lucky, he’ll bring home the ditzy blonde girl and Spanish-speaking man. They’re cute.

Leon definitely fucks the blonde. You’ve seen her press her chest up against his arm and sputter out nonsense as an excuse to get close.

You can’t help but frown at the memory. She’s cute as fuck, and he just sits there like an idiot, nodding along to whatever she was saying, a distant look in his eyes as if he were thinking about something else. What else does he have to think about other than the tits being offered to him on a silver platter? Dick?

Your mom calls out your name, startling you out of your foul mood.

“Come have breakfast!” She says, sounding like she was in the middle of something else way more important than you. You’re grown, you don’t need the reminder— or the attention. Maybe.

You don’t bother changing into something else, simply swiping some invisible lint off of your shirt and pushing back some hair from your face before heading downstairs, the old wood creaking under your weight.

You take the last step down, and Instantly, you’re hit with the smell of bacon and pancakes. Your mouth waters, stomach rumbling. Glancing around, you see your mom walking out the front door, keys in hand. No stepdad, and no Leon either. Either he already ate or he’s still asleep, neither of which you can bother to care about right now. Taking your seat in your respective chair, you began to eat your fill.

A mix of pancakes, strawberries, and bacon are all shoveled into your mouth, fork occasionally scratching against the porcelain of your plate and making you wince. Your mom makes good food. It makes up for all the other stuff she lacks, at least. It’s not like she has to make something good to get you to eat though. Caught up in getting your belly full, you miss the familiar creaking of wood coming downstairs.

“It’s early in the morning and you’re already stuffing your face.”

You feel your heart lurch, the pancakes passing down your throat almost getting stuck. Coughing, you wipe at your mouth with the corner of your sleeve, glaring over at your stepbrother, who isn’t even looking at you. Leon was rummaging through the fridge, snaking his hand in between some condiments to grab a protein shake. The same one his dad takes.

Oh, so he’s talking to you now? Is what’s snarked out in your head, but anxiety makes you flounder, wondering if he was speaking to you or not. Awkwardly, you slow down your movements, fork stabbing into the pancakes you were eating, now soggy with syrup. Eyes dashing up to steal a glance, you almost die right then and there when you accidentally make eye contact, meekly pushing your plate away and standing up to leave.

“What? Don’t want to eat with me or something?” Leon’s sarcastic tone stops you in your tracks, the mere attention making your heart rabbit against your chest— and not in a good way. Shit, man. What do you even say in a situation like this? What do you say at all? It’s not a big deal to most, but it is to you. It’s not like Leon talks to you every day, after all.

You open your mouth to speak, lips dry and tongue heavy.

“I’m just kidding.” He mutters, arm flexing as he rapidly shakes his protein shake, uncapping the drink before taking a swing.

Your words die out immediately, left gaping like a fish out of water. Just kidding? So he didn’t want to talk to you at all? You don’t know if you’re relieved or miserable, but your chest hurts, as if the mere situation has taken years off your lifespan. Gasping quietly, you nod, bunching your sweaty hands up into fists, as if the action would ground you.

“O—oh..��kay, yeah…” You lick your lips, eyes on the floor beneath your feet. “I mean, would you want me to…?” Trailing off, heat rises to your cheeks, a feeling of inadequacy making you tremble lightly. Oh my god, you’re pathetic. You’re not hurt exactly, but something about him being able to shrug you off so easily like that stings. It’s a bittersweet feeling, but in the worst possible way.

Leon turns his head a little to look at you, his eyebrows pinching. He looks… concerned? No, that’s pity, you think. He’s pitying you, probably thinking about how unfortunate it is that you’re his weird little brother with no friends and social ineptitude. He probably thinks that you want to hang out with him too. You’d rather die, but you felt bad. That’s the only reason you even spoke in the first place. Honest.

“I mean,” you repeat helplessly, feeling as though you were digging yourself into a deeper hole. But your mouth kept running, seemingly out of your control. “I j-just thought that—“

“Uh, yeah. I wouldn’t mind…?” Leon cuts you off, looking back at the food set out on the table, most of it gone now. The sentence sounded forced, like he felt like he had to say it. Not that he needed to. He doesn’t wait for you, sitting down on a chair and serving himself some of the remaining food, occasionally giving you looks. Ones you couldn’t pinpoint the emotion behind. That’s scary. This is scary.

“You… okay?” Leon asks reluctantly. He’d rather be focused on something else right now, like who texted what and whatever, but he has to play the big brother role, right? His attempt at expressing care is lackluster, but at least it’s something. He has to care, but it’s not necessarily a want. If you didn’t look like you were about to shit yourself right now, he’d probably be less attentive, but you’re stuck in place and trembling like a sickly dog, and he’s a little concerned. Just a little.

He doesn’t want to get blamed by your parents for something that happened to you, or anything else like that.

You don’t answer him, and he gets a little creeped out. You don’t blame him, considering how fucking weird you’re being. Anyone, anyone at all talks to you, and you freak out like a girl wearing white on her period. Stomach churning, adrenaline makes you feel like you’re falling, the blood draining from your skin making you look as sickly as you felt. Leon’s worried now, considering the odd look he gives you, any thought of food currently abandoned.

He’s looking at you as if you were covered in blood or something, like Carrie at prom. He raises his brows and his eyes widen, jerking back a little as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. What was he seeing? Are you really that freakish or something? What’s up with his face?

A sudden splatter of liquid against the wooden floors makes you look down, gasping at the sight you’re greeted with.

Pee.

You’re fucking pissing yourself.

Hands clutching at your crotch, you sputter, mortified and embarrassed, tears welling in your eyes. “O—oh! Oh my god, uhm, I- I didn’t mean to…” More liquid gushes. Your bladder has completely lost control of itself in response to your failure at trying to act like a proper human being. You wince at the loud sound, Leon doing the same. He just stares, and you just stare. You both stare at the growing puddle, at the mess, at your ruined pants— at you.

It’s all overwhelming, enough to make you burst into tears. Which you do. Fat, salty drops run down your cheeks, and you resort to the only thing you know how to do in a situation like this. Apologize like a fucking loser.

“I- I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean… fuck..! Sorry, I’m sorry!”

Leon doesn’t know what to say, really. Does he laugh? Make a face? Offer to help?

He cringes instead, raising a hand to try and stop your babbling. “It’s okay, It’s okay…” He speaks quietly as if trying to console a frantic animal. “Just— just don’t move, you’re… ugh…” He hasn’t even gotten up from his seat yet, but he does now, slowly rising and forgetting about breakfast. That always seems to happen to him somehow.

“Are you done?…” He asks, unsure if he should approach or not, his body tense with confusion. “I mean, with-“

“Yes! Yes,” You sniffle, dreading your existence. You pray to anyone, anything, to just kill you right now. To strike you down. “I— I’m done… I think… don’t look please…”

“It’s all over the floor…” Leon mumbles. Way to point out the obvious. Yes, you know it’s all over on the floor. You know it’ll seep through if you don’t clean it soon. But that’s the last thing on your mind right now. Your stepbrother just watched you piss yourself out of pure gut-wrenching anxiety. How have you not killed yourself yet? Maybe it’s the nerves, the fear of someone else walking in on you in this compromising situation and making a mockery of it. You could see the social media posts now.

‘Some yellow-bellied boy pissed himself because he’s too afraid to make conversation with someone supposed to be a part of his family’.

“I-” You choke, the dryness of your throat making you swallow thickly. “Can you h-help me?” You manage to get out the words, swallowing again. A tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a hot trail of moisture on your already-heated flesh. God, please say yes. You don’t think you could take any more embarrassing exchanges today– much less a rejection. Leon’s eyes flicker from the puddle of urine to the streaks of it running down your pant legs and back, over and over. It’s the one time you wish he could look at your face instead.

“Leon,” You plead, wiping your tears away messily.

“Right, right,” Leon inhales deeply, exhaling slowly to get a grasp of the situation. “yeah.”

He coughs into the sleeve of his letterman, “Can you walk to the bathroom?”

You fluster, brows furrowing.

“Of course I can,” You frown, sniffling. He’s treating you as if you’re mentally challenged, annoyance starting to swell in your chest.

Leon raises a brow, a silent question in his expression. “So do it then?” it says.

After some brief hesitation, you turn and fumble towards the bathroom, grimacing at the uncomfortable feel of your wet pants, the fabric rubbing against your skin nastily and making you feel itchy. You can hear Leon opening and closing some doors behind you, likely peering into the cleaning closet in an attempt to find something to clean the mess you left behind with. Hopefully he doesn’t use bleach, that doesn’t smell well when mixed with pee.

With shaky fingers, you flip the light switch up, illuminating the room in an instant. It smells nice in here ‘cause mom keeps it clean, who uses all sorts of chemicals and powders strong enough to knock anyone out. A whiff of urine makes your face screw up almost immediately though.

With a grunt, you pull your pants down clumsily, the material sliding down your legs with a wet noise after some effort and landing on the floor with a heavy plap. Hopefully the pee washes out. Those were your favorite pants. You follow up by removing your undies, letting them fall carelessly onto the floor beside your pants. Now you’re naked from the waist down, skin prickling with goosebumps. You really need a shower, like, right now.

“Hey,” Leon’s voice comes from behind, startling you. “I finished cleaning the… pee…” He trails off, eyes on your bare ass. For a moment, he stares, eyes eventually rising to your face— only to come down to your ass again. And again, face then ass. Mostly ass.

“Dude!” Your voice wavers, embarrassed. You turn your body to hide, but end up giving him a full view of your front too. “Get out!”

Leon keeps his eyes on you, slowly shutting the door behind him and locking it with a soft click.

“I thought you wanted me to help you?” He says casually, his demeanor incomprehensible to you. He looks down at the discarded clothes on the floor, clicking his tongue and wrinkling his nose. “That’s… nasty.”

You stammer, words lost on you. Leon doesn’t wait for you to use your brain, moving forward, making you feel the need to step back.

“You know, most big brothers wouldn’t help their little brothers at all. Especially for situations like this.” He says quietly, eyes intently on your face now, making you squirm. Your hands clutch together at your front, feebly hiding your penis from view.

“S-so? What’s your point?” You glowered at him suspiciously, trembling with a mix of anxiety and confusion. You can’t help it. You’ve never gone this long talking to someone. It feels weird, but mostly dreadful. Stumbling over your words like a toddler is embarrassing, but they flow out faster than your thoughts can form.

Doesn’t help that your ass is bared too.

“My point is,” Leon rolled his eyes subtly, “you owe me.”

You squint your eyes. What?

“What? Owe you?”

“Owe me.” Leon confirmed with a nod.

Clearing your throat dryly, you lick your lips nervously.

“Okay,” Deep breaths, now, “owe you wh-what, exactly?”

Leon pauses, eyes glancing away for a moment before returning to yours.

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “That’s for me to worry about.”

Another pang of annoyance hits you, but this time it’s mixed with worry, making your chest tighten.

“Well then, are you going to help me or not?” You scowl. It’s unreasonably cold in the bathroom, the lack of warmth making you feel out of place. It feels like you’re talking to a stranger, and technically you are. Still, the only reason you can’t seem to figure anything out about Leon over a shallow level is because he’s annoyingly boring. Stupidly enigmatic; not in a cool way. Yeah, he’s popular in his little group of friends and what not, but that’s all he has going for him. He’s not interesting in the slightest.

Leon’s quiet for a moment, before vaguely gesturing to your top with a hand.

“Go on, get naked.”

“Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes.

“You know what I meant,” Leon counters, rolling his eyes openly now. “You act like I wanna gawk at you or something,” He scoffs, “what’s there to look at, huh?”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, simply grumbling under your breath, hands moving to take your top off.

You throw the shirt down onto the pile of dirty clothes bunched together on the floor, eyes briefly lingering on the graphic design plastered on the front of it. Naked now, you turn and fumble with the shower curtain, pulling it back.

Leon approaches as you step in, reaching for the soap inside the shower caddy.

“What are you doing?” You chew on your bottom lip, tired of asking questions but unable to help the gnawing anxiety strumming through your ribs.

“Helping.” Leon simply states, taking off his jacket and hanging it beside the fresh towels. His biceps flex with every movement he makes, the muscles in his arms well-sculpted. The sight makes you frown, but you have no one but yourself to blame for not having a good physique.

You don’t question further; you don’t want to. All of the previous adrenaline has washed down, leaving exhaustion in its wake. With a quiet hum, you turn on the water, wincing at the cold spray that hits you.

Cursing under your breath, you mess around with the handles until you have a decent temperature, sighing in relief. Despite the uncomfortableness of being thrust into all of this, Leon seems to be taking it well, and that concerns you. What if he’s plotting something? What if you’re put in a stockade tomorrow for people to throw tomatoes at and sodomize?

Well, whatever. He probably has his embarrassing reasons. Any consequences are a problem for future you.

Cold hands make contact with your back, making you squirm. Despite the roughness of his skin, Leon is surprisingly gentle with you, the rough material of a washing rag delicately rubbing against your shoulders making you shiver. The soap smells good, at least. Like pine and some other fresh scent you couldn’t depict. Maybe it’s Irish.

Many thoughts run through your mind, most of them nonsensical and humiliating. Here you are, awkwardly standing still like a loser while your stepbrother helps wash you as if you were a vegetable. The way he touches you is oddly intimate. His hands brush against sensitive spots every few minutes or so, making you shudder.

But it feels nice, you suppose.

It’s nice to feel clean and not be covered with piss.

You close your eyes, tense muscles starting to relax. Leon notices, his hands now lathering shampoo in your hair.

“…you’re a weird one, you know?” He mutters.

You only hum. Yeah, so? He’s weird too. He’s weird for actually helping you out and cleaning your piss puddle off of the floor. And for… whatever this is. It’s definitely not a normal stepbrother activity, that you know. It feels kind of dirty, but the contact feels nice. Nice enough to make you almost melt into the touch. He doesn’t have the right to call you weird, but neither do you.

A hand splays on your chest, lightly squeezing one of your pecs.

Jolting, your eyes snap open. Inching away from the touch, you frown.

“I’m not a girl, pervert.”

“Could have fooled me.” Leon snarked bluntly, squeezing once more. This time he did it apprehensively, as if unsure of what he was doing.

At least he has the decency to properly clean you, thorough in where he reaches. He passes the rag all over your body, down your chest and in between your legs.

A weird flutter settles in your chest, pooling down to your belly. It’s not a special one or anything, it just feels weird. Not bad, not good. Just different. Letting out a shuddered breath, you grumble.

“Just help me to my room already.”

And Leon does. He rinses the suds off of you and drains the water, halfheartedly wrapping a towel around your frame before assisting you out of the shower. He half leads half carries (but mostly carries) you to your room, his body flush against yours, occasionally bumping into you. Something hard pokes at your butt, and you know what it is, but you don’t say anything. Your increase in heart rate does though.

Leon makes you feel small, you figured. He’s not mean to you or demanding, but something about his attentive behavior makes you bashful. It unfortunately makes you want more. Maybe there’s something wrong with you. Maybe mom and dad didn’t love you like you wanted them to. Leon doesn’t either, but this is fine. Any attention is good attention, as long as you can handle it without pissing yourself.

You’re pathetic for that, you know. You’re no bark and no bite, the worst of both worlds.

A towel ruffles your hair, interrupting your thoughts. Face scrunching up, you huff, withstanding the process as best as you could.

“Cold?” Leon asks gruffly, wrapping the towel he was using on your hair around your shoulders, accompanying the other one. It’s wet, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Yeah,” You mumble, feeling shy. You’re trying your best to stay strong and confident, but the more the spotlight rests on you, the more vulnerable you feel.

Staring down at your lap, you fiddle with the towels surrounding you, trying not to pay attention to the weight of the spot beside you sagging, Leon’s body warm against your side. It’s odd, you think. His body is warm, but his hands are always cold.

He scoots closer, pausing for a moment when he’s flush against you, hesitating.

The tip of his nose presses against the top of your head, inhaling deeply. You shudder, but don’t move. Leon wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you both back into the bed.

“Smells nice,” He sighs, nosing the crook of your neck. The towels around you loosen their grasp, threatening to expose you completely. He doesn’t seem keen on releasing you any time soon, his movements slow but purposeful, curious. “Better than the pee smell.”

A soft noise escapes you, squirming slightly. “What’s up with you?…” You ask quietly, embarrassed. You know, yeah. He’s hard against your hip, pressing his crotch into you. Has he been hard the entire time? You wouldn’t know that, it’s not like you stare at his crotch 24/7. You know he’s hard right now, but you don’t know why.

“Dunno,” He says, holding you tightly against his chest, face pressing into your throat, “just like how you looked.”

You hum confusedly, an imploring look on your face.

“You know,” He groans, “the stupid look on your face. The one that looks like you got scared shitless. Like when you pissed yourself.”

That doesn’t make any sense, but okay. You don’t question his psyche.

You loll your head back, letting out a small breath. Like a fish on a hook, Leon’s reeled in immediately, his lips planting against the exposed flesh of your neck. He doesn’t kiss though, not yet. He rubs his face against you, like a cat claiming territory or a dog showing affection.

His hand finds your chest, squeezing just like he did at the shower. It makes you furrow your brows in displeasure, chewing on your bottom lip. “Don’t— that’s…” you grunt, “that’s for girls.”

“Feels like a girl’s tits to me,” Leon huffed snidely, ignoring your words and squeezing again. His fingers pinch your nipple lightly, toying with the bud.

His other hand snakes down your body, splaying out over your tummy. “Are all boys this soft?” He hums against your Adam's apple, finally using his lips to kiss at the spot. You mewl, slightly disoriented.

“No…” You close your eyes, “I don’t know… don’t you?”

“I’m not gay.”

You roll your eyes at that, pushing back against the mattress to get comfy.

“Me neither.”

The hand on your tummy trails down, fingers teasing your pubic region. You grunt, thighs spreading a little, a silent invitation. Your heart is pounding against your chest and your skin feels clammy, but this is the most attention you’ve had in days that isn’t coming from yourself.

Sighing heavily, you push your chest into the hand playing with it, feeling impatient.

“Leon…” You sigh again, agitation behind it.

Leon gives in, cupping your cock and balls in his free hand in one go, squeezing gently. He feels you up for a hot minute, grabbing you in his fist and starting to rub the length slowly.

You buck your hips slightly, moaning. The dual stimulation makes you feel all tingly, brain fuzzy with pleasant static. It’s nice enough to make you forget a thing or two, but Leon is being annoyingly slow. Not that you’d vocally complain.

He keeps his face buried in your neck, occasionally pecking at your skin or licking a sensitive spot. The heat of his breath against your already warm flesh makes you sweat. Uncomfortable, you tilt your head to the side.

Leon decides he can’t multitask, removing the hand on your chest to instead use it to tilt your head back to face him, his lips leaving your neck to kiss you on the corner of your mouth.

He pecks and kisses wantonly, but it’s nothing special. You move your mouth to his deliberately, pressing further for a deeper kiss. Leon’s a bit put off by the action, but he follows your lead, soon taking over by slotting his tongue into your mouth, slipping it through your parted lips.

Eyes drooping, you sigh into his mouth, suckling on the wet muscle lazily. Squeezing your thighs together subconsciously, you shudder at the amount of precum that has oozed from your tip to your balls, inner thighs sticky and wet. All this rubbing and squeezing is doing nothing for you, so you whine into Leon’s mouth.

He squeezes your dick in response, making you buck your hips again. But it’s not enough. Too little, too slow.

Panting, you pull back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Leon—“

His lips come crashing down into yours again, silencing you. Only making a soft noise of complaint, you go back to suckling on his tongue, pacified. Some part of you wonders if that’s how he jerks off his own cock. It would explain a lot, somehow.

Despite the slow pace, the squeezing and rubbing is a surprisingly nice change from the usual fast pumping you tend to do. It’s not much, but the more Leon does it, the more each squeeze is accompanied by a surge of pleasure, an exciting buzz settling in your tummy.

You start panting, whimpering softly now. Leon catches onto your oncoming orgasm pretty quickly, increasing the pressure in some of the contact while continuing to lick into your mouth all nastily. It’s sloppy and gross, the way you exchange saliva and spit with a man supposed to be your stepbrother. You couldn’t imagine anyone else doing this with you, though.

The lack of oxygen makes you dizzy, but that’s a nice addition to the flurry of sensations strumming through you right now. Moaning, you wrap your arms around Leon, clinging onto him tightly.

He bumps and grinds his cock against your hip, precum staining the front of his pants. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to fuck you though, content with dry humping your leg like a sniveling chihuahua.

Another squeeze on your cock and the coil snaps without warning, leaving you gasping and moaning into Leon’s mouth while cum spurts out your slit in ropes, each one landing on your tummy.

Leon groans, his lips pressing against yours hard enough to bruise, his hips stuttering against your leg. He humps the last of his own orgasm into you, shuddering as cum seeps through his underwear and onto your skin, the fluid sticky and warm.

Parting from the kiss, you mewl, eyes glazed over with ecstasy and body trembling with delight. For once, the silence with another person is enjoyable, and you couldn’t care less about anything else that has happened today. At least, not at the moment.

You dread the moment you’ll have to talk about what you just did, but right now you’re content. Glancing over at Leon, you worry a little, hoping he didn’t just wanna pump one and dump you to the side. You expected it, but that didn’t particularly mean you wanted it to happen.

He turns his head to look at you, and you frown a little, anxious as to what the expression on his face could mean. He looks like he doesn’t like anything all the time, and it’s stressful.

The look in his eyes is complicated, but you don’t have time to contemplate it. He ducks his head and steals another kiss from you, nipping your bottom lip lightly. You could jump for joy.

“Remember,” He mumbles against your lips, “you still owe me.”

You blink. You would’ve thought that this was what Leon wanted to get from you, but maybe you were wrong. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“I thought this was?…” You ask confusedly, trailing off.

“Nah,” Leon hums. “this was…” he thinks for a moment, “a tester. Y’know, like tryouts.”

“For what?” You squint, licking your lips and tasting the slight metallic tang from the nip.

Leon shrugs. He’s unsure of what he really wants here— with you, that is. He doesn’t want to think about it, not when all he wants to do is rest in post-orgasmic haze.

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asks instead, eyes examining your face, trying to get a read of your expression.

You think for a moment, before mirroring his shrug.

“No, not really.”