#wanted to share this little bit but it was all funny

[honey-on-your-tongue]

FWB

Part 4 Logan Howlett x fem!reader Series masterlist

Logan isn't sure when or how it happened. It just…did.

He wakes up next to you every morning now. He falls asleep next to you every night. It's become routine, part of his day, as natural as if he's always been doing it.

Somehow, falling asleep next to you turns into cuddling, which then turns into late night conversations until you're both too exhausted to keep talking.

And Logan is…happy. He feels lighter, he's got more energy. Suddenly the world isn't the sullen place he always thought it was.

He convinces himself it's the sex. Convinces himself that's what has him in such a good mood. It couldn't possibly be anything else other than the sex.

It's his favorite part of the day now. He looks forward to lying next to you, to listen to you talk about your day. He just focuses on your words, on the sound of your voice, as he gently caresses your skin.

And he shares with you, too. Little, but he shares. He likes the way you pay attention, the way you actually listen to what he has to say. It makes him feel…seen. And it sounds silly, but that's how he feels. That's one of the many things he likes about you.

You're smart, you're sweet, you're funny. He enjoys talking to you so much, that the idea of going somewhere with you and just talking about anything and everything slowly starts to grow in his mind. It takes shape; he thinks of places, of times, of days. And he decides that an afternoon coffee with you would be the most suitable. Now there's only the matter of asking you.

And despite everything you two have done, this has him nervous.

He's antsy and jumpy as he walks up to you one day, hands balled into fists.

“Hey, bub,” he greets casually.

You turn to face him, eyes bright. And you smile and he's lost.

A little voice in the back of his head is insisting that a girl like you would never want him, that you're way out of his league. But he gathers his courage and pushes himself to ask anyway.

“So, I was wondering,” he says, “if you're busy today? In the afternoon?”

“Today? No, I'm not busy,” you reply. He sighs in relief. “Why?” you add curiously.

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go out with me? Like to go get coffee?”

You blink and his heart drops. She's gonna say no.

Is…is he asking me on a date?

You're pretty sure he did. At least that's what it sounded like. But he said it so casually, maybe he just meant it as friends or something?

“Um. Coffee?” you echo, grimacing internally. You sound like an idiot, but you hope Logan doesn't notice.

“Yeah, coffee. Or an ice cream, or…just, anything, really,” he replies, nodding. “I just meant if you wanted to hang out.”

You nod softly. “Well, yeah, it sounds fun,” you reply, smiling.

Logan offers a half grin in return. “Great. We could go into the city and just see where we feel like going,” he says.

You nod. “Yeah, great. So, it's a date.”

His grin widens into a smile. “It's a date.” He nods.

That afternoon, he takes you on his bike to the mall, enjoying the way you hold onto him for life. When you get to the mall and take the helmet off, he grins. Your hair is all messy and you've never looked more beautiful.

“I've got helmet hair, don't I?” you ask, pouting.

He hums gently. “A little,” he responds as he tenderly combs your hair some.

You grumble a bit. “I was all fixed-up and pretty,” you complain.

“You still look as beautiful as ever,” he tells you, studying your face carefully, just taking you in.

A soft blush coats your cheeks and he smiles, tracing your cheekbone with his knuckles softly.

It's almost odd to see Logan be this calm, caring, affectionate. But you're not complaining at all. If anything, you like it. It makes you feel wanted. He makes you feel wanted and safe.

You two walk into the mall together, talking and laughing, and he lets you pick the place. You end up in a cute café, cozy and quiet, sitting close together in a booth in the far corner.

Logan is more open than usual, still somewhat reserved, but he offers you more insight to his thoughts and feelings. He talks and laughs, and you can sense he’s different. Almost as if the weight he always carries on his shoulders is gone. He’s just a man, a happy man on a date with a girl he likes. He’s no longer that tough, hardened, hurt man that’s been hurt by the world to the point of no return.

The conversation flows. It’s natural, easy, and before you know it, it’s been hours of you two sitting in the café and talking. When night falls and it starts getting late, Logan takes you back to the mansion. With most of the mansion asleep, you two walk in quietly and it feels like you’re sneaking back in from somewhere you shouldn’t have been.

It’s not like dating between the X-men is forbidden, just…Logan isn’t the type for that and you understand that.

Logan leads you to his room and locks the door after himself.

She’s beautiful. Just standing there, staring at him with those gorgeous eyes…you’ve got him hooked.

He reaches for you, studying your expression, taking in your scent and the sound of your heart. It’s as if he’s seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you.

You, that puts up with all his bullshit, that stands him and his dumbass, that demands respect, that amazes him, that makes him feel like he’s not a complete monster…

What did he ever do right in his long, fucked-up life that ended with the amazing karmic event of you giving him a chance? What did he ever do to deserve you? He’s not sure, but he’s grateful for whatever good luck has befallen him.

He grabs your hand and gently leads you to his bed, his heart racing.

His heart racing? Is he nervous. Since when is he nervous about sex?

He tries to ignore the thought as he lays you down on the bed. Without a second of hesitance, he kneels in front of you, spreading your legs so he can nuzzle against your thighs. He kisses them softly, one after the other, as he pushes your skirt around your waist. He mouths his way up to your pussy, inhaling her scent through the thin material of your panties. He kisses your mound, his eyes fluttering shut. He just lets himself feel, lets himself do whatever he wants however he wants, focusing on you and wanting to give you everything.

Your breathing grows heavy, your hands move to tangle in his hair. He goes slow, every lick and kiss calculated and measured. There’s no trace of the animal here, no trace of that hunger that seems to take over him more often than not. There’s just…him. It’s just him and you in this moment, together.

He gently tugs your panties off and smiles, glancing up at you. He can see the look in his eyes and he recognizes the affection there. And, for once, it doesn’t scare him, doesn’t send him running off. It makes his heart skip a beat and his stomach flutter.

He eats you out gently, taking his time, just enjoying your taste and the way your body writhes under his mouth.

By the time you’re tugging him away, telling him you can’t take anymore, he’s made you come about three times. Smiling, he undresses and crawls onto the bed on top of you.

This time, there’s no screaming. There’s no headboard slamming into the wall or bed springs squeaking. No crazy positions or choking or spanking.

Logan fucks you slow, deep. His cock reaches every spot in you with a tenderness that takes your breath away.

Every deep thrust is punctuated by a groan from him, his breath hitching as you clench around him. He kisses your neck, mouths at your jaw. His hand caresses your cheek, his eyes on yours as he fucks you.

The gentleness of it, the soft care, the warmth in his gaze…it’s too much.

His fingers touch your clit and rub in soft circles, and it takes nothing to push you over the edge. You tumble, back arching, eyes rolling back. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, your voice breathy as you whimper into his ear.

“Logan,” you whisper. “Logan.”

And he loses it. You’re not begging for sex. You’re not begging for him to go hard and deep, or for him to relieve you of your stress. You’re begging for more, for the one thing he shouldn’t give you and the one thing he wants to give you.

Your pussy clenches his cock tight as you come and he loses his train of thought. With a shudder and a low moan, he comes in you, spurting his release into your soft cunt. He’d forgotten the condom, but that’s an issue for another day.

He stays where he is, on top of you, and leans his forehead against yours. “Are you okay, bub?” he asks softly, nuzzling his nose with yours.

You nod. “I’m good,” you reply.

He meets your gaze and smiles softly. And, God, the way he’s looking at you…it almost looks as if not only cares about you, but like he could almost, almost…

Love you.

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a/n: I'm sorry babes!!! I can't believe this took me so long but omg, finals actually kicked my ass and I'm surprised I didn't have a breakdown lol. Buuut, it's finally here. Enjoooooy!!!

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Taglist

@nerrivm @rosiahills22 @d3vils-adv0c8 @thychuvaluswife @18lkpeters @daddy333 @e-nonsense @ch3rryblossms @ayamenimthiriel @thesecretlifeofmo @simming4sims @raideaters-blog @1cam8 @angelicbbsblog @giuliahowlett @lemonsquaredd @meadow-field @secretpandaconnoisseur @givenoutlaw @wunder-blunder @aredheadednerd @fictionalmen-dilflover @insanesociopath @m1cky-y-y @fictional-hooman @ion-even-know @znerac @steviebbboi @insanesosciopath @reidsworld @arrozconpepitoria @meadow-field @sir-thisisadndserver @wolviesgirl @rooroen @tezooks

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Blog masterlist

[dadsbongos]

on hard times

5.4k words / summary - jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly's hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

warnings - fem!reader, piv sex, noncon jimmy, stepcest, objectification/sexism (thank u jimmy), curly and jimmy should both be shot in the head

reader is 20 not actually a teenager.

[B Side: Jimmy Zare]

Sitting in a hospital room is not unfamiliar to Jimmy, the only peculiarity to it now being that he’s the one in a gown with his ass out. He’s perched over the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees and flicking an unlit cigarette between two fingers. Below him is a head of flaxen hair, thick hands unzipping a black bag full to the lumps of plain long-sleeves and jeans and socks.

Grant Curly is Jimmy's sole emergency contact. Mrs. Grant Curly used to be Curly's emergency contact. Next was Grant Curly senior. Then Jimmy Zare.

Jimmy thinks that's fucked up. He should have a Mrs. Jimmy Zare and a Jimmy Zare senior and then, finally and as a last resort, there would be Grant Curly.

But, unfortunately, that’s just not true.

Curly now rolls socks on both Jimmy’s feet. Patting the man’s ankle in a way meant to be reassuring, but only squeezes repulsion from Jimmy’s face.

“I can dress myself,” he sneers.

Lots of remarks could’ve followed from Curly’s mouth -- most apparent being: why’d you let me get this far? None of them come, though, Curly simply nods and stands and kicks the bag closer to where Jimmy’s legs dangle over the edge.

“You got everything?” Curly grimaces at his own question, “What happened to your phone?”

Jimmy shrugs before shucking on a stiff pair of jeans, grunting with the effort and cupping his bruised over stomach, “Dunno.”

Curly bites back a sigh, Jimmy watches it happen in real time: a little bit more faith in him is eaten back by disappointment.

All the same, he pulls over a black long sleeve. Violet stomach screaming in protest as he hisses a curse for his dimwitted neighbor, stumbling back into the bed.

“Alright,” Curly bends, hands out to assist Jimmy in standing, “Let’s get you home.”

Jimmy elbows his friend away, paying no mind the pained wheeze he lets out, before stumbling onto two feet by himself. In the hand not bracing his abdomen, is a crinkled plastic bag with vomit-stained clothes and a peeling leather belt.

In silence they wade through the buzzing clinical halls. Hours prior this same hallway was in chaos, Jimmy knows that -- he just doesn’t remember it. Not between yellow-black dots sucking out the light in his eyes or the stinging remnants of bile around his teeth. Now the corridor is sleepier, and stars are beginning to crawl out from behind the horizon.

Jimmy wonders if he waited until now- if his neighbor would’ve had her kids already in bed, too tired to check out the next trailer over rattling-

He supposes it doesn’t matter. He’s already breaking out toward the parking lot with Curly.

Who then takes a bold step toward the bubblegum Jeep with no back doors, which he knows is not Curly’s car. Meaning one thing,

“Oh,” Curly says like a last minute thought, “Kid’s home, by the way. I hope that’s fine.”

He smiles in such a tight way that slyly communicates: it better be fine because there’s no fighting this. All importance Mrs. Grant Curly took up in the man’s life was drained instantly when she served divorce papers; a space rapidly refilled with the child from a previous marriage. The crooked thorn in Jimmy’s side. The new emergency contact. You.

“Why do you even have a room for it?” Jimmy shuffles into the passenger side, scooting the seat forward and leaving the seatbelt dangling at his shoulder, “Not your kid.”

Curly waves off such criticism, “I love her! She’s nice and funny, everything I could’ve wanted.”

“Ugh,” Jimmy gags, eyes fluttering shut, “Do I get my own room, or do I have to share?”

If his eyes were open, he’s certain he’d be forced to gaze upon that same pressed smile. That stale smile that says more than enough. Jimmy will not like this.

“You got the couch or my bed,” a click and hum vibrates Jimmy in his seat before the car electrifies with whistling pop music. Big chunky tires rolling onto the highway back into clean cut suburbs.

Jimmy cringes at the moaning welps over the radio and flings a hand out, one eye creaking open just enough to make out the volume knob between his crowding lashes. Twisting it far down while croaking,

“You’re a grown ass man, the fuck are you listening to that shit for?”

“It’s just what she left on,” Curly’s jovial, despite the rude quizzing, “You don’t like a bit of girly pop?”

Jimmy glares, turning his whole head to spit daggers toward his friend, “If that little cunt is playing this shit while I’m over, one of us is dying.”

Curly just laughs, then quietly murmurs -- too quiet to be taken seriously, “Don’t call her that.”

Curly is like the sun. Big and bright and nurturing no matter how violently you resist. Making Jimmy mercury: small and red and forever revolving around him.

Upon pulling into the broad driveway up to Curly’s two-story home, Jimmy’s already rich negative attitude only sours more. He spots the sleek little navy blue Toyota Corolla (that’s seen more blood and sweat and tears than your cute two-seater would ever know about) closer to the door.

“Why’d you pick me up in this if your car was here?”

“I figured you’d appreciate this one more,” Curly snarks, killing the engine and jingling your ring of chains with two keys. One for the house and one for your car. Aside from that is a rose gold blinged out rectangle with your name on it, pink little plastic cats, a metal fairy, and purple fuzzy dice.

“Figured wrong,” Jimmy slinks out, curling the clear bag of his belongings to his chest before patting the plastic with loud ‘pops’ as the pair steps through the front door, “I wanna wash this.”

Curly hisses lowly, head turning toward the very obviously clunking washing machine in the utility closet, “I think she’s doing a load right now.”

Ideally, Jimmy would toss his shit in with yours but God forbid the princess gets just a little crusted vomit washed off alongside her delicate thin dresses and lace panties.

“Then I just leave this shit?”

“Looks like it.”

Jimmy really hates you -you’re a little bitch. And you’re hopping down the stairs in a yellow Pony Express shirt three sizes too big for you, smiling, waving, melodically chirping:

”Hi, Uncle Jimmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” Jimmy huffs at you, eye rolling while Curly’s back still faces him from the kitchen.

You stop at the foot of the steps and pout out at him, “Jeez, aren’t you rude? Did they have to amputate your heart out there?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes again, this time with more apparent gusto. He flips you off to boot. You pull an offended scowl before trampling over to Curly and tugging the back of his shirt, murmuring dirt and shit and lies into his big ear. Curly doesn’t spare the energy of twisting back before calling out,

“Jim’ play nice, please?!”

Jimmy hates you. You’re not even Curly’s. You were just some teenage sulk when you came into their lives, and now you’re some codependent wimp living at home. Despite the blonde never complaining about this fact, Jimmy just knows it’s insane that you’re still clinging around. It’s all that pampering Curly did on you.

You skip back out, hands tied behind your back with that awful smile. Rosy lipped with just the perfect sliver of teeth showing, and the apples of your cheeks glowing. The best part of you perched like that is that he can make out the plumpness of your tits -- could probably even reach out and squeeze one before you manage untangling your hands to shove him off.

“So, how long are you staying?” your soft voice grates him again,

Shrugging at you, Jimmy confesses, “Until I get my own house back.”

Your mouth opens, brows furrowed, then they dart up in shock -or perhaps realization- and your mouth closes. You nod and look back at Curly, then again at Jimmy, “Okay,” and prattle back into the kitchen.

Murmuring ensues.

That’s when Curly presses, “Jim’, are you takin’ my room or the couch?!”

More murmuring. You hiss something and he can see the whip of your arm as you whack the blonde’s arm. He laughs quietly and waltzes out, shaking his head a bit,

“Sorry, little lady says you’ve gotta take the couch.”

Jimmy’s scowl must be so hilarious because Curly just laughs harder. You come out whining, smacking at the man’s arm again with a belated shush.

Your concern is brushed off without thought, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

You love Grant, really. He’s been a massive teddy bear since the day you met, but his fatal flaw is his guilted sense of devotion. Especially when it revolved around dear old Uncle Jimmy.

A soft jingle and hiss clues you all to the sudden silence where a machine once clanged. Jimmy spares no seconds before thumbing over his shoulder and seething at you, “Change your load over. I got shit to wash.”

“Grant, don’t let him talk to me like that!” you stomp your foot and whine.

“‘Grant’,” Jimmy mimics your voice, tone nasally and drawn impossibly high.

“Already bickering,” Curly plasters on his worst smile yet, hands fisted on his hips, “This’ll be a good time.”

***

It, decidedly, has not been a good time.

Not in the mornings.

“Grant’s out for his jog,” you mumble around a spoonful of fruity cereal. Milk faintly pink from the artificial dyes.

Jimmy doesn’t even dignify you with a response, prowling from the bed with his striped pajama pants sagging and an unmatching black beater swerved to expose one of his nipples.

“You have a tit piercing?” said with undeniably judgment. Poking the bear just to prove it won’t do anything.

As expected, you receive sullen silence. Jimmy only confirms he heard you in how he roughly yanks the thin material to cover the silver bar through his nipple.

That’s precisely when you spot something sure to make the bear roar. Thin line upon thin line, now blistering white and all stacked in uneven rows along each forearm. A couple stretch past his elbow. You open your mouth, then think better of pointing those out. Partially from some undeserved pity, and partially because of some fleeting certainty he’ll actually kill you over that remark.

“Slept in real late today, huh?” is what you decide on instead.

Jimmy, again, completely skimps you. Rooting around the cabinets until he finds the shiniest bowl and clacking it loudly on the marble counter. Taking down your box of pebbles cereal, ignoring your scoffed protests, and pouring out an overly generous portion. Despite his determination to dodge you, he throws down his bowl -splattering milk over the hardwood table as he does- right beside yours.

Chair skidding out before he hunches over the table. Elbows ungracefully planted on either side of his bowl.

From your peripherals, you watch Jimmy eat. Milk dribbles down his greyed scruff and he crunches open-mouthed, you can identify each sugary morsel just before it’s mashed into rainbow paste. No amount of blatant cringing or sighing does you any favors, so you resort to simply abandoning breakfast before you hurl what’s gone down.

Little do you know that as you rise, so too does the material of your itty bitty silk shorts. Riding up into your ass until fat is spilling out the bottom, and Jimmy hones in on the sight as soon as you’re up. Following with utmost interest as you round the table and perch onto the silver sink ledge, flicking on the hot tap. Definitely prettier bent over the counter than when you’re talking.

If you were his step-daughter you’d probably never leave the house. He’d have the door deadbolted from the outside.

Jimmy blinks at that. Leaning back in his chair, stare unwavering as your hips veer left and right with the effort of scrubbing out dried cereal, and folding his arms. He blinks again, this time with more confidence in his chest.

There’s a reason you’re here, and it isn’t because you’re Curly’s kid.

“Hey,” Jimmy’s voice is buried in the back of his throat, all gravel and rock beneath every different thing he actually wants to say. Eyes rounding over your exposed ass cheeks, “Why’d your parents split?”

Your guttural offense is pretty indicating, “Grant’s not my dad.”

“You still live with him.”

“Yeah, when I’m not on campus.”

Jimmy’s silence is so stagnant, you have to turn to confirm he’s still in the room.

Surprisingly, he is, and he’s staring right at you. Every muscle in his face stony, a hardset confidence as if he knows everything before he even opens his mouth, “Your mom’s just downtown, isn’t she?”

Rather than rationalize -whether it’s a lie or not- you swallow the nerves in your throat and turn back on him, “Why do you care so much? Do you wanna live here forever or something?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Then be curious about why you don’t have your own place yet,” if you spent even a second longer at that sink then you would’ve gotten a ceramic bowl buried into your skull.

Luckily you immediately break for the stairs, jumping them two at a time (joke’s on your stupid ass anyway, now he’s memorizing the way your tits jiggle up each step).

Not out on errands.

Jimmy’s leaning against the rickety cart with a plastic red handcover. Head drooped to one shoulder, silently observing as you stretch up to grab a jar of Curly’s favored peanut butter from the top shelf.

“You can ask for help,” Jimmy sneers.

You ignore him, flagrantly. Even kicking a leg onto the bottom shelf, selfishly knocking over thin blue boxes of macaroni with your other foot stretching backward. One hand clutching the middle of the bay for purchase, the other high above your head.

“Fine, be a bitch about it,” he sighs and sinks back.

Suddenly thankful he did because at this angle with you reaching for that height: your little cotton panties suctioned against your pussy lips become visible beneath that teeny pleated skirt. A studded belt hangs limply around the loops.

The swell of your ass is more obvious from down here, too.

Jimmy hangs a little more to the side, slowly fishing out his phone and holding it at his chest. Eyes drawing toward the screen as he ensures his flash is off before snapping a far away picture. Then two fingers crawl over the glass, pinching at your cunt and zooming in for another three pics.

Briefly, he wonders if he could get away with reaching out and pulling aside the gusset for the holy grail of shots.

Just as his hands are twitching to carry out the mull-over, you’re fucking turning. Sweaty and huffing,

“Okay, fine, can you grab this?”

Jimmy pockets his phone with an eye roll and easily swipes the orange-lidded jar into your cart.

Not at dinner.

“You get this every night?” Jimmy asks, undeniably lewd with thighs sprawled apart on the chair. A hand clutching either knee.

Curly shrugged, hands politely folded over his abdomen, “Not every night. Sometimes we order in.”

“Your own housewife in training,” Jimmy whistles, watching you at the stove and not bothering to temper his volume, “Guy that puts a ring on it will be lucky.”

Out of minuscule respect for Curly, Jimmy decides against vocalizing the rest of his statement.

Still, though, Curly has the gall to look offended. Broad chest puffing out and thick jaw setting into a disturbed square. Hands curling around each other less politely now, and his knee starts bouncing as he says,

“Won’t need a husband when dad’s here for her.”

Jimmy can only laugh as you visibly cringe upon the utterance of that dreaded ‘D’-word.

“What do you think of that, kid?” Jimmy rolls one elbow over the back of his chair, spare hand now flattening over the table, “No husband, just Dad.”

“He’s not my dad…” you grumble, not unlike that pouty, sulky teenager you were when you and Jimmy first met.

“Well, any dating prospects?” it’s the most tender Jimmy has been with you yet, and by the immediate glow in your face he can read your appreciation.

Curly, however, is the one to answer -a much more rotten expression written over his face, “No,” he frightens himself with how aggressively the two letters spit out, so he tries again with the tiniest, fakest chuckle, “No suitors yet.”

And now you’re pissed, glaring at Curly before whipping right back around.

Jimmy revels in it. Watching you and your step-dad silently bat one argument over the other. He wonders if you two really think it’s all over his head.

And certainly not at night.

On the way to your room is Curly’s. Curly is a deep sleeper, so Jimmy has never felt more assured than right now as he twists the handle on your bedroom door.

Unlocked. As it should be. Your sweet heart entirely unassuming to the dangerous wiles of men twice your age.

He bets your pussy is even sweeter than your heart. It has to be when your personality is so gratingly cliche. Maybe by the end he’ll be even more bewitched by you than Curly.

The thought makes him snort.

Steadily planting a knee onto your marshmallow mattress, Jimmy soothes one hand over your thigh -- kicked over fluffy pink blankets. Soft skin that bounces right back into place. Firm and dewy. Your body embraces him completely, which he already knew it would.

A crackly groan makes his eyes dart from your thigh to your face scrunching at the sudden contact.

Silently, he squeezes, just to see the exact moment you rouse behind those batting lashes.

Initially, you smile -tight-lipped- until your bleary vision makes out the figure on your bed. That exact moment, when you realize who’s groping up your thigh, is when your smile tears apart.

“Calm down,” he husks into the open air of your bedroom, calloused palms cutting along your waist and pausing at the warmth of your collar bones, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

Now is when you kick. A startled gasp shoved back behind the palm of his hand, fingers clamping tight around your jaw. He swings a leg over yours, effectively straddling your pelvis. Grinding down between your legs, something thick and hard protruding from the loose stripes of his pajama pants.

“Feel that?” he taunts, pressing against you harder, lowering his face by yours until the stiff scruff along his cheeks is tearing up your soft skin, “That’s my dick, and it’s going inside you.”

A scream is muffled against his thick palm, you smack at his ribs but he pushes forward without constraint, wrenching up your silk candy slips. The sleaziest little smirk smears over his entire face as your boobs spill out, he cuffs the material to your throat. Pressing your legs open with his own, kneeling on one of your thighs with his full weight and you’re sure the bone’s going to snap. Another scream dies against his meaty hand.

Reaching up, you knot one hand in his stringy hair -yanking out chunks of chestnut- and crushing fingerprints into his eyes.

“Be -fuckin’- nice,” Jimmy tugs you down the bed, blanketing your body with his, “to Uncle Jimmy, yeah?” he snickers in your wide-eyed, sweaty face, quickly swapping the hand over your mouth with his lips. Spearing your face open with his tongue, slobbering over you.

Burying your knees into Jimmy’s sides does about as much as it would if you flicked paper in his face.

Jimmy peels off your thin lace panties, balling them up in one hand and yoinking down his pants with the other. Stretchy hem now digging halfway down his thighs, he taps the hot head against your clit. Then sliding it down your slit, highlighting around your hole with two circles. Grunting against your lips, sinking just beneath the seam to drag back up toward the twitchy little pink bundle up top.

Licking over your tongue one final time, he saps up the final sweet mint taste from your toothpaste before pulling back. Pecking you, outrageously chaste for a man now bruising your tits with his fingers, before parting altogether.

Sneering, “Keep quiet for me,” and stuffing your own panties into your sodden, swollen mouth.

Jimmy heaves your knees over his shoulders, bending over you before sliding in -- staring you dead in the eyes as he lets out the most dramatic huff. You gasp as he sheathes in a single swing, throwing your head back at the sudden stretch with a grunt following.

“Soft and warm,” he hums, biting at your pulse with sick glee, “Tight.”

You wail in protest, but it gurgles out a little sweeter. Just a tad higher pitched than you mean for. Eyes watering and back arching as you try budging for even slight breathing room.

Stubbornly, Jimmy locks his chest against your bouncing tits. Eyes needling down at the pillowing flesh, hard nipples peeking out with every ragged thrust. Thrusts that get smoother, steadier, wetter the longer he’s inside you.

Cold teeth dig into your neck, velvet tongue laving the area as he sucks welts along your skin. Hot pants fanning the juncture with every gushy dive of his hips. Then he laughs out the cruelest dig when that first splat rings around the sweltering room:

“Take it so good, princess,” just to continue with a snide, “Knew you would.”

Biting down on your spit-soaked panties provides superficial comfort, squeals still leaking from the corners of your mouth. Muffled, but not silenced.

“What would your old man think about this?” he chokes, pulling up enough to stare down at your pinched face, “You’re gonna cum for me.”

One of his hands settles over your throat, crushing the sides warmly. Not enough to actually choke you, but just so there’s bruises by tomorrow morning.

“He’ll have to get rid of one of us,” Jimmy hisses coldly, now scarring his bottom lip with crooked teeth, brows furrowing as his cock twitches in your sucking cunt.

it better be you he thinks curly was mine before you

He spits down onto where you’re swallowing him up -- frothy spit dribbling cooly over your clit and along the broken seam he fucks. Instinctually, your hips buck up for it -for more. Thighs clamping around his neck and throat bobbing with a trapped moan.

A practically inaudible yadyyee manages to break past your gag, Jimmy snickers as you crow louder aaatyyyy as you seize around and below him. Eyes flying open and nails scratching up to reopen silvery scars on his arms as you nearly choke on your own slick panties.

“And is this the part when I call you ‘baby’?” he draws a thumb beneath your shiny lip, spit webbing your skin together, “Whore,” is what he chooses instead, “Cumming like the pretty slut I knew you were.”

And just like the slut he knew you were the second he saw you, you grind into his pistoning. Tears caking your lashes and cheeks flaming hot, your body still caves to any attention it’s given.

He knew it the second you were introduced to him. In a spaghetti strap and short shorts with bleached bangs. Dressed like every other little pornstar in the making. Hellbent on catching as many eyes as possible just to rip it away like he was some yippy puppy content to be played with and walked and given little treats. Maybe your dad was, but Jimmy never had that paternal instinct.

Jimmy just wanted to defile you.

And now you live under the same roof: you’re all his.

Last minute, Jimmy slides out easier than he went in and beats his cock into your pubes. Rivulets of your wetness roll down the curve of your ass with nothing to plug you up, sheets darkening beneath you.

Tugging your panties out so hard he nearly knocks out a tooth, Jimmy balls them again and licks up the drool from your chin. Knuckles catching your overstimulated clit as he frantically jerks off, hips cracking forward until your pelvis is streaked in thick white ropes.

Pitchy and broken you wail, “Daddy…!”

Jimmy could’ve cackled in your face, if not for the sound of metal clicking over his shoulder.

And maybe the sight before him -Curly in the doorway, clutching the brass knob hard enough for his knuckles to whiten- could’ve been terrifying. Men kill other men for touching their daughters, after all. But all that intimidation flies out your window, decorated with the daintiest peach curtains, as soon as Jimmy spots the tent in Curly’s boxers.

Curly reads the electric glint in his old friend’s eyes. Something bright and livelier than he’s seen from the man in a long while.

Something that makes him feel relieved he doesn’t have to keep the medicine cabinet locked.

Something that says: I know why your wife left you.

*** ***

[A Side: Grant Curly]

“It’s late, Grant…”

“I told you not to call me that.”

An eye roll is the last thing he wants to see. He scowls, drunkenly, and shoves his head into his hands with all the indignity of a child.

“You really think drinking makes you easier to talk to? It’s no wonder you make her so…”

“So what?”

The stilted silence preceding a sigh tells him the what he needs to know. Unhappiness permeates the house now. Having it all pinned on him feels so fucking unfair, so fucking untrue.

“You know what,” another sigh, this time more playful -more throaty and evidently annoyed, “Daddy.”

“I thought marriages didn’t fall apart until at least the fifth year…” he pouts up at you, again with all the righteousness of a toddler.

You smack his arm, “You guys have been dating longer, anyway. Besides, you kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work out, right?”

“I thought we’d be okay.”

Two hands settle on either of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the knotted muscle between his shoulder blades and up toward his stiff neck. Pulling tense flesh until he’s all malleable and soft again.

Curly groans, pleased, and leans into your touch. Laying his head against the back of the couch to stare up at you. A lopsided smile gracing his lips as he confesses with whiskey-slick lips,

“You’re a blessing, sweetheart.”

You grace him with one of those humble, tight-lipped grins that make him all gooey in the center. A paternal feeling, he’s sure.

Whenever your mother upsets him, you’re there.

More things make Curly want to kill himself than they don’t these days. He has the sick urge to fellate a gun after most minor inconveniences, and suddenly the only way he can feel true joy is when someone half his age is fawning over him. It should be another reason he wants to die, but it isn’t. You could never be.

He places a thick hand on yours and grins, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Looping both arms around his neck, you settle your heated cheek over the back of Curly’s head and squeeze. Flushing your breasts against his back with a sugary whisper, “Probably die miserable.”

“Probably,” he reaches up to squeeze your wrist.

Knowledge would be him pushing you off right now. Wisdom would be kicking you out of his house. But that ripe, sweating instinct makes him encourage you to slither over the back of the couch.

He pulls at your cropped sweater, laughing in your flustered face as you giggle. Legs wild before you’re slipping into his lap, thighs spreading yours apart with his hands on your hips. Thumbs scarring up your bare ribs.

“How are you so like her, but so different?” he wonders aloud.

“I dunno…” you shrug off shyly. Hips ticking against his.

“Mhmm,” he lets you and leans back, eyes fluttering shut as warmth eats him from both directions. Your body is sweet while the alcohol is savory. Both ways, he’s treated with nothing but love.

Then there’s your lips on his cheek, he smiles into it. Turns his head just to kiss the air above your own cheek as he sighs,

“Thank you, baby.”

“Daddy,” your hips cant down harder and now he has to plant both feet firmly in the ground to keep from thrusting up. That would just be inappropriate, right? But no more inappropriate than what you utter next, “Can I suck you off?”

His eyes peel open one at a time. Bloodshot. Confused, “Huh?”

“I know Mom doesn’t,” you grind down on him again. The material of your oversized sleep shirt riding up. Nothing but pink lace panties greet him. Damp and sticking to his shorts, “But I really want to…”

“Uhh,” maybe if you could let him think for a second, he’d have replied better. Maybe if you could stop rubbing that wet cunt on him for even one breath, he could’ve given you the emphatic NO you deserved. But you didn’t, so he didn’t.

Instead, he just sat you on the floor and waved with one hand while the other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine, yes.”

Already, the carpet burns your knees. But you rock forward and unclink his buttons.

Without technique, but eager and hungry: your mouth sinks onto his cock. Feeling it twitch and thicken on your tongue as you whine. Hollowing your cheeks with both hands burying manicured nails into his meaty thighs. Noisily slurping the spit dribbling past your gaping lips.

Sucking more than you can handle, trying to impress Grant by tickling your nose with his wiry gold pubes just makes you gag. An abrupt gush of thick slobber waxing his pelvis.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, throwing his head back with bending brows, “Be careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself…”

Despite himself, he’s knotting hand at the back of your head. Not-so-subtly pushing your forehead against his abs.

Curly cannot verbally explain or comprehend his relationship with you in labels, the guilt just eats him up.

The comfort of a stepdaughter should be non-existent -or at the least temporary, but you’re still here. You love him and he adores you. He has no strength to beat you away.

*** he really should just die ***

Little under a year spins by before his phone rings, interrupting the unquestioned domesticity.

You caught bits of that call while perched on the kitchen counter. Bare legs left to swing while Curly stirred creamer into his coffee. His old Pony Express shirt swamped over you. A girl’s voice blisters out from the other side. You glare at the speaker in juvenile jealousy despite how displeased Curly seems to be listening to her.

Occasionally he’ll nod, no matter how ridiculous the notion is given you’re the only one looking. Jaw popping. Fingers tapping.

“But he’s alive?” is the first thing of substance he says.

Curly is Jimmy Zare’s emergency contact because Jimmy never had a Misses or a Senior to count on. Not even the highly inappropriate relationship with a young girl to lean on.

You assume that is all connected to the phone call that suddenly has him all serious.

“Okay. I’ll be out there soon,” he nods again, making you want to rip his head off it’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes, “He can stay with me… I’ll be sure.”

He doesn’t look your way after hanging up. Instead, he spares a few minutes blankly staring into the cabinets.

Curly thinks Jimmy is like the sun. Big and angry and burning with barely contained passion. Making Curly mercury: small and burnt and the first to be swallowed when Jimmy inevitably blows up.

It’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes.

“Grant?” you murmur, head tilting.

He finally satisfies your need for attention. Eyes widening as if he spontaneously forgot and then remembered who he’s looking at. He smiles tightly and pats your knee like he’s trying to comfort a child after a lost softball game,

He even speaks to you like one.

“Uncle Jimmy’s staying with us for a bit,” before you can ask anything more, he turns away toward the front door, “Try not to fight with him.”

“Eugh… He’s weird!” you protest, “Can’t he stay at a hotel?!”

Curly pokes his head out and shakes it, disappointed, at you, “He’s staying with us,” then disappears to announce, “I’m going to pick him up! Be dressed when we get back!”

You wait until he’s slammed the front door behind him before muttering, “I am dressed.”

Uncle Jimmy is the type of person men shouldn’t trust their daughters with, so maybe this is a step forward. Somewhere in the knotted affair your life became, a gleaming light assures you this means Grant has his eyes on a new Mrs. Curly.

It’s so cute how stupid step-daughters are sometimes.

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @m-carriaga2021 + @reniverse 

[aggieharkness]

Hello! Baking (or rather cutting out) Christmas cookies was a bit like a cold, tense hell with Christmas music playing in the background.

So I'd like to request reader baking Christmas cookies (or just normal cookies) with Lilia. Put as much fluffy, funny, feel-good feelings as you can in there, please. I'd really appreciate it.

Happy holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and you and Lilia share a few quiet moments at home baking cookies and simply enjoying the time to be with each other.

Warnings: romance, pure fluff, dancing, baking cookies.

Authors note: Oh my God, I love the idea. You don't know just how happy it made me to read this, like I was bouncing on my bed. I hope you like it and that it brings you happiness and comfort. If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, or if you want more, I'm here. Thanks for the request. btw.

This is a Christmas gift for you!! Happy Holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

The house was filled with music. Christmas carol after Christmas carol played through the Bluetooth speaker you had bought a few months ago, echoing against the walls of Lilia’s tiny living area. She wasn’t one for festivities such as Halloween or Easter, but God, she adored Christmas. The first year you had shared the holidays with her it had surprised you just how invested she was, putting up an old beat-up tree, fairy lights everywhere, even around the bedposts, but you never complained. Her big brown doe eyes had shone with such joy and happiness that you just couldn’t bring yourself to burst her bubble in any way. The house had looked beautiful once she had finished, a small nativity scene in a corner of the room, a remnant of her past life in Sicily. This year wasn’t any different, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The first of December hit the calendar, and she was like Sonic the Hedgehog pulling out boxes of lights and ornaments, leaving the tree to you, a brand new one covered in fake snow that you had gifted her a couple of years ago. She loved knowing that you were helping and making sure the house was just like she wanted it to look, little angels and random glass balls hanging from the branches, golden tinsel wrapped around it along with a string of lights. It looked beautiful next to the TV. For three weeks you helped her set up the house until you were finally able to take your vacation days, leaving your job until the sixth of January.

Morning had come, bursting through the windows in gentle warm rays of sunlight that bathed over Lilia’s form as she slept, those lovely peppery curls shinning under the orange beams, her body cuddled against yours. Every morning since you both had closed up the shop for the holidays had been exactly the same sweet routine; you waking up first to meet the dawn while she slept for a bit longer, basking in the way your hands followed the shape of her soft ringlets, and your tender kisses lulled her away from the land of dreams. It was simply the best way to begin the day. You both had stayed in bed talking about nothing and everything cuddled against each other until the sun was well high up in the sky, the pinks and purple hues that had painted the world above now a clear blue cyan while the world was buried underneath a crisp layer of snow that had fallen through the night. You had not noticed, wrapped around Lilia, lost in her kisses. She got up first, her hair falling from the bun she had had when you had taken her to bed, her ivory gown letting you catch a glimpse of her otherworld body as she made her way to the bathroom, the light hitting her just at the right angle making her nightdress completely see through. She looked bloody fantastic for being over a hundred and fifty years. The rest of the routine followed like clockwork, coffees and scrambled eggs included, making way for the moment you were both in right now.

Lilia’s body swayed from side to side to Michael Bublé, a Christmas classic for her, her voice not only harmonising perfectly, but overtaking and overpowering the music so easily and effortlessly that you had to stop pulling bowls out of cupboards simply to watch her. Over the kitchen counter she was beating three eggs along with melted butter and sugar, ingredients spread everywhere because when she had got up, right before she had left for the bathroom, she had bent over your body, your eyes drifting to her cleavage until her eyes had claimed your attention, telling you that you were making cookies today. Had you been Agatha or maybe even Jen you would have complained telling her that it was boring, but you were you and the prospect of baking with Lilia was like a perfect Christmas gift.

-Lils, how much flour do we need? – your eyes lifted from the big packet of flour that you had just left on the table, her usual red and blue robe flowing when she moved to stand beside you, a yellow apron with the words “Look at these buns!” protecting her clothes.

-250 grams baby, or one full cup. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

-Everywhere you go. Thanks, hon.  

-Take a look at the five and ten.

-It's glistening once again.

-With candy canes and silver lanes that glow.

It was wonderful to sing with her even if your voice could never compare; she did not care. Anything that she did with you was simply perfect. Her hands left the bowl of wet ingredients on the table, holding onto yours before you could grab the sifter. She pulled you away from the table, moving your arms from side to side rather dumbly, twirling you on the spot before your chest was pressed against hers. The music was forgotten in the background, drowned by both yours and Lilia’s laughter as your bodies bent exaggeratedly from right to left. Christmas suited her, it was as if this holiday had been made for her, the lights that she had placed all around the room blinking on and off within a pattern, the bright colours mixing with the warm light bursting through the windows. Lilia twirled the both of you around the kitchen table until the song ended, “Feliz Navidad” now playing instead. Her lips landed briefly over yours, pecking you sweetly before she put you back to work with the dry ingredients.

-Don’t forget the baking soda. Last time you did, the cookies became a rock-hard mass.

-Hey! How was I supposed to know that the baking soda wasn’t in the baking soda bottle but in the saffron one? You are the one who loves to recycle.

-Why would I want to throw away a perfectly usable jar? Besides it’s not my fault you forget your glasses in the bathroom all the time.

-Oh yeah? – you grabbed the top of her apron and pushed her against you. – Where are yours now babe?

-You little…

-Ah! No cursing, you don’t want the dough to get upset and not rise, do you?

-I don’t know why you listen to Rio, that it’s obviously a myth.

-Do you want to risk it? – she shook her head, her pout transforming into a bright smile before she kissed you once again, humming happily against your lips.

There were still a few deep tones of the black coffee she had had for breakfast on her lips that your tongue picked up and savoured before turning back to your bowl. Sifting the flour so there would be no lumps you followed the powder with your eyes carefully, making sure every single drop was inside the bowl this time. Over a week ago you had been supposed to bake an apple pie for Sharon’s book club but there had been a few minor hiccups, one of them being you sifting the flour all over the table because you had been looking at Lilia while she talked about a client that had come in requesting the lottery number. When she turned around, she saw you covered in the white powder, bursting into unladylike snorts of laughter that had her entire face turning red, needing to sit for a moment to fill her lungs and calm herself down. Through the corner of her eye she watched you fill the bowl and congratulated you on not spilling it, a kiss on your temple, her hands busy slicing a couple of chocolate bars. She was teasing a bit, but every praise was always genuine when they came from her, a bubble of happiness wrapping around your heart. A pinch of salt and the baking soda and the dry ingredients were ready for the rest of the mix, Lilia wiping her hands on a tea towel before beginning to pour the eggs, sugar and melted butter mix. Instead of using a whisk you had grabbed a spatula from the sink, washing it before beginning to gently fold the batter until it was smooth but thick.

-Can you turn the oven on? I’m almost done with the chocolate.

-Can’t we just bake them with, you know… a flick of our wrist?

-I swear, Halloween Town has made so much damage. Being able to do something doesn’t mean we should, and you have never seen me turn chicken thighs back into a chicken, have you?

-No, but can we?

You knelt on the floor removing trays and plastic Tupperwares so they wouldn’t melt, turning knobs until the light came on and the fan began to work. You were thankful for all those squat trainings you did as you lifted the ceramic trays you had removed from inside the oven and placed them over the bed covers noticing that Lilia had not answer the question. When you turned around she was biting into a perfectly backed chocolate chip cookie, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips.

-Why didn’t you tell me we actually could Lilia?!

-Because half of the fun is letting the smell of fresh baked cookies fill the house.

She stretched her hand, the half-eaten cookie waiting for you. You rushed back to her and took one big bite, moaning at the taste of the chocolate and vanilla essence, Lilia popping the rest in her mouth, pecking your lips after a moment. Even though she could clearly bake at the snap of her fingers she still moved to put parchment over a metal tray, grabbing a scoop from a drawer. She had already mixed the chocolate into the batter, the dough cold to the touch when you went to pick up some with your finger. So, she could chill it in a second instead of putting it in the fridge, but she did not want to bake them with her magic? A waste of time in your opinion, but then again, she might be right, as usual. The house did smell delicious for days after baking. Lilia had placed a bottle of olive oil on the table so you could lather your hands in it, the first scoop of batter landing in your palms so you could round them before placing them on the parchment paper, over two inches in between each cookie so they could rise and expand in the over without ending up as one giant monstrous thing. It had happened before. The first batch of eight cookies was done in just a few minutes, but there was still a bit of batter left, not that Lilia hadn’t thought of a solution already, another tray waiting for what was left. Just as you finished rounding the last one the oven begun to beep, and Lilia bent to put the trays inside, setting a timer for around fifteen minutes.

-Now for the sugar cookies. I’ll get the ingredients ready while you clean up the table, okay baby?

-Sure, just let me move this flour bag to the counter first.

Innocently you picked up the heavy bag, waddling slightly towards where Lilia had cleared a spot for it on the counter, feeling it slipping a bit off your hands, your steps faster so it wouldn’t end up on the floor. In slow motion you let it plop on the counter, just in time, your fingers barely holding onto it, but the motion had caused a white cloud of flour to come out of the bag right towards Lilia’s spot. Your hands shot to cover your mouth, eyes wide, when you turned to look at her, fighting the laughter that wanted to erupt out of your mouth. Lilia’s beautiful face with her rosy cheeks, big characteristic nose and plump lips was utterly covered in a thick layer of white. She blinked a few times, flour falling off her eyelashes giving her an even more comical look with her chocolate doe eyes staring at you through the white mask. Some of it had made its way to her hair, mixing perfectly with her curls. She opened her mouth to speak but she coughed instead, a small cloud of flour puffing in front of her right before sneezing, part of the powder falling onto the top of her dress and over her yellow apron. There was silence for a moment, not even YouTube Music was playing as she stared at you, hands on her hips. An instant later “Let it snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” was filling up the room with its jolly tune, your laughter impossible to keep quiet.

You roared loudly, a hand still trying to cover your mouth while the other was holding onto your stomach, eyes moving from her face down to the floor. Lilia was staring dumbfounded at you, an offended look on her face as you laughed. Her hand shot to grab your arm pulling you towards her, eyes watering when you rose up to gaze at her. She stopped your laughter quickly, her hand throwing a handful of flour to your face, making you blink away the flour surprised at her action. Staring at each other there was no sound coming from either of you before Lilia chuckled, you following until you were both laughing, your hand grabbing more flour and throwing it in her direction, Lilia dodging it just in time. When you saw that she was putting her hand in the bag you rushed away from her giggling excitedly, feeling her behind you as you rounded the table, her flour missing you by an inch. She was now actively chasing you all throughout the house, your body sliding through the curtains and into the store. You were both leaving a trail of flour on the floor, but neither of you cared.

-I’ll get you for this!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t… - you could hardly breath from how much you were laughing, screaming in delight whenever she got close enough to grab you but never actually doing it. - I didn’t mean it!

-Come here!

You rushed to the door, pulling the glass gates open and stepping into the empty street. Sure, you were not wearing clothes appropriate for snow, your feet cozy inside your slippers, legs dressed in a pair of black leggings, but you hadn’t thought of that. Moving over two feet away from the house, Lilia following you out into the street, you took one step until you felt her hands grabbing onto your waist, pulling you against her. You yelped gleefully while laughing, feeling her arms snake around you, the perfect crispy snow reaching your mid-calf, the air cold, a contrast against Lilia’s delicious warm body.

-Got you. – she whispered in your ear, her breaths rapid and hot against the skin of your neck. You smiled while resting your head in the crook of her neck, very little flour left on your faces now.

-So you did.

-If it was all a ploy so we could come out and play in the snow you know you could have just told me.

-Hmmm, not a bad idea, but it was an accident.

-I know, baby. I’m not mad, but you are cleaning up when we are done baking.

Your mouth was open in shock, a retort forming in your tongue as you turned your face to look at her, but it never made it out of your mouth, her lips on yours kissing you tenderly, her soft ringlets caressing your cheeks. The chocolate cookie had left a wonderful sweet taste on her lips, or perhaps it was the bite you had had, either way, it seemed to fit her perfectly. You both stood over the snow for a few minutes observing the usual boring street covered in glistening white all over, on the roof tops, over the signposts. It was beautiful as long as you had Lilia behind you pecking your cheek. She turned you around after a while, holding onto your hands, pulling your frame back inside the cozy home. The oven had just begun to beep when you crossed the curtain to the back, Lilia rushing to them so they wouldn’t burn letting go of you. She was beautiful, spots of flour still clinging to her skin, like on her forehead or the tip of her nose, but they didn’t seem to bother her as she placed one tray on the stove and the other on the counter over a plate so it wouldn’t leave a burn mark on the old wood. You could spend every minute of your life watching her do anything.

They smelled absolutely delicious, the aroma spreading through the room to every corner, gently sliding into the shop. Over the bed covers you had left a rack which she picked up and left on the counter, you watching from your spot against the back wall as Lilia worked flawlessly, transferring the cookies along with the parchment paper to let them cool down. There was no room for the hot trays now, but that was no issue. Lilia turned, locking her eyes with you and then winked, lazy tendrils of yellow magic wrapping themselves around the trays and lifting them in the air, floating with gentle swaying motions over your heads. Everything related to Lilia’s magic was always so very mystical, visions, readings, the usual divination magic that she was used to, so it was wonderful to see the more practical, fun side of it, it meant she was relaxed and happy. She moved her hand beckoning you to join her, pulling out a pair of clean bowls after she had left the dirty ones in the sink.

-Why don’t you start with the icing?

-What happened with cleaning up the table?

-Flour on my face happened, doll. But don’t worry, there’s not much on the table now, I’ll just move those cups to the side if I need to.

-You don’t trust me anymore? – you pouted with a fake saddened tone as she took a stick of butter and a few eggs out of the fridge, turning her body towards you, a hand on the counter and the other on her hip, head lulled to the side. She sighed but smiled, your pouting making you look just so adorable.

-You know I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you the fun part of the recipe. You get to paint the cookies, baby.

-Yeah, but it’s fun doing things together. I want you to paint with me.

-Who said I wasn’t going to? You just make the icing and leave it on the side while I start on the batter and then we can cut them together. Does my baby like that?

Nodding your head she moved her hands to your cheeks kissing your lips tenderly, a smile on her lips when she parted from you. Happy that you had got, yet again, another kiss you took a small bowl from the cupboard above your head, checking the recipe that was stuck to the exhaust hood above the stove with a magnet before picking up two eggs, separating the yolks from the whites. Lilia kindly took the yolks and put them aside to use them at lunch time while you beat the whites with the whisk a bit. You didn’t need to do it, you just liked to before putting the icing sugar in, which you could not find in any of the cupboards. You pulled doors open, drawers, you even searched the fridge, it wouldn’t have been the first time any of you had accidentally put something in that didn’t belong there, but it was nowhere, and you could have sworn you had bought some not long ago. Lilia saw you moving frantically all over the kitchen and asked loudly what you needed over the music of “Jingle Bells Rocks” that was now playing. Upon hearing what you needed she moved aside to present you with a bright orange bottle.

Of course, she must have picked it and put aside when she had begun to gather ingredients. She was measuring the sugar, your eyes watching how her hands, dressed in rings on multiple fingers, tapped the bag and moved to the beath of the song. With a small cloud of floating icing sugar you mixed it all, a white paste forming in the bowl to which you added a little bit of corn syrup to make it glossier, just a touch that you liked. Now came the fun bit, taking the food colouring and crating the weirdest shades you could come up with. With a spoon you poured some of the mixture into an empty glass, adding a drop of red that turned pink upon mixing it with a teaspoon, so you added a few more, happy with the bright red that you made and setting it aside. Lilia looked at your science experiment from the corner of her eyes, hands adding spoonfuls of flour into the wet ingredients, folding the powder in. You were like a little kid with a bunch of sharpies and crayons painting lines and figures excited to see the final outcome, Lilia’s brown eyes looking at you as you mixed red and blue to create purple, although right now it looked a bit more like a suspicious brown. She let you finish mixing the colours, reminding you to leave part of the icing white, before adding the last few touches of a pinch of salt and baking powder, the dough clumpy in the bowl, as it should be.

 -Are you done with the arts and crafts, babe?

-Yeah, I think. How do you make grey?

-You don’t. I didn’t get any black colouring. Why would you want to add grey to Christmas cookies?

-Well, I don’t have an idea right now, but I like to have a range.

-Come on, Van Gogh, let’s roll the dough.

While you closed the last bottle of colouring Lilia placed the dough on the table, her strong arms and hands kneading and rolling to combine it and let it form a big smooth ball. You were mesmerised by the way her muscles moved up and down even through the lose sleeves of her dressing gown, her chest bouncing gently to the motion, your eyes glued to soft flesh of her neck and collarbones through the low-cut dress she was wearing, her amulet swaying along. It was incident to stare like that, but she was just too captivating, and she knew. She could feel your eyes watching her every move, a shiver running down her spine, but she never stopped kneading, there would plenty of time for her to take you to bed later. She gave it a few more punches before patting the little ball of dough, signalling that she was done.

-Should I get the rolling pin?

-Yeah, this is ready. It’s in the second drawer, next to the bottle opener.

-It’s too early for a glass wine, right?

-Yes, darling. It’s my company so bad that you need to get drunk at 10 am? – she raised an eyebrow while looking at you, a hand on her hip over her apron. Only a couple of feet separated you, but it was too much of a gap for you, snaking your arms around her neck while her hands automatically moved to your waist, her lips ghosting over yours.

-Never. You are far too alluring and beautiful, I would hate to get drunk and forget tomorrow how you looked today, or how your perfume compliments the smell of cookies so well.

A childish giggle escaped her mouth, muffled when she bent to peck your lips. She was clingy today, or amorous, either way you were not complaining. Parting from you she patted your hip, a sign that she needed you to get her the rolling pin, which of course you did. Anything she needed. There was a certain level of excitement building in your chest as Lilia rolled the dough until it was a quarter inch thick, the sheet overtaking half of the kitchen table, the best part coming at last.

-Right, where are the cookie cutters, babe?

-They should be in a box in the cupboard over the sink. Let me check. – pulling a chair from under the table you stepped on it to check in between the toaster and a juicer that you had got her for her birthday, date that she still refused to tell the girls in the coven, Sharon included as she could be a bit of babble when she had a glass or two of wine in her system. You searched but the box was nowhere to be found. – I can’t find them, did you move them, hon?

-No, not that I remember. Have you looked behind the coffee bags?

-Yeah, they’re not there. Where… Ah… I know where they are.

-Where? I’ll get them while you come down.

-Does the car have gas? – she was resting her backside against the edge of the desk as you stepped down, returning the chair underneath the table.

-What? What does the car have to do with anything?

-I lent them to Agatha.

-What? Why?

-I don’t know, I stopped asking her what she needs things for. I’m not getting another story of her and Rio’s sexual exploits during an expo or whatever. She just asked for them, so I lent them to her.

-You mean gave them to her. We are going to have to buy new ones. Well, it’s not too much of a loss, just grab a couple of knifes and we’ll freehand the cookies.

You practically hopped your way to the upper drawer to pick a pair, rushing back to her side and handing her one. You stared at the dough as if calculating, figuring out exactly what you wanted to do and after a moment, you began to create what you were sure was a candy cane, super proud of the shape until you looked at Lilia, who had had the same idea, and noticed how your lines were hardly straight and the curve was more a 90º angle.

-Why does yours look like an actual candy cane?

-Practice. Oh, yours is not that bad, baby. What is it?

-Ha ha. You know very well what it is.

-Yes, sorry, just teasing.

It was now a competition for you, eyes squinted and your teeth biting down on the tip of your tongue as you tried to keep the knife straight through every line, connecting them all and creating a star, or what you thought should be one, because it looked more as if it had just been run over by a car. Lilia laughed when she saw it and in a childish move you planted your index finger right on her Christmas tree, squishing it while sticking your tongue out. She gasped while calling your name.

-Y/N!

-You laughed at my star!

-It doesn’t look like one, baby.

-And now your tree doesn’t look like a tree, so we are even.

-Darling, it doesn’t matter if they are not perfect, we know what they are supposed to be and that’s all that matters. So what if your star needs a bit of therapy? Now my tree needs a chiropractor. Let’s continue, alright?

-Just don’t laugh again.

-I promise, scouts honour.

She pecked your lips and forehead before tuning back to the dough. The next form was supposed to be a snowman, but it looked more like a bunch of amorphous meatballs, a giggle sliding through your lips at the sight. You turned to check Lilia’s attempt at a reindeer which was more along the lines of a corgi with horns. You could not help it, it brought a cackle out of you, her peppery curls bouncing around her face as she wiped her head to look at you.

-I didn’t laugh at yours!

-Yeah, but… what the hell is that Lils?

-It’s a… It was supposed to be a reindeer.

-I’m sorry honey, but it looks nothing like one.

-Well, it’s a new breed. From Canada.

-Shall we name it? – your hand went to her shoulder, your head resting over it as you both watched the figure.

-Agatha, for stealing our cookie cutters.

She laughed at her own joke, your own snorting only adding to the humour of the moment, without a care in the world. Both of you carried on making shapes and forms, some of them better than others, some being additions to the “new breed from Canada”. You had pointed at each other’s creations laughing and praising, giving some of them names until you had the entire coven in cookie form, but you and Lilia’s figures could not be those weird interpretations of snowmens and trees, so you let her carve yourselves as two beautiful gingerbread women. It had started out as Christmas cookies but in the end, when Lilia had begun to move them to the floating trays, there had been more amorphous beings than accurate forms, but neither of you cared one bit, “Fairytale of New York” following “Santa Baby” on your Christmas playlist. Lilia’s head perked up at the sound of the music, pushing the door to the oven with her hip until it closed, setting a timer for ten minutes. She grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she pressed you against her, swaying to the song.

She must have been a singer and a dancer at some point in her life, there was just no way she could be that good and not have had shown her gift to the world at least once. You would ask her one of these days, but as of now you were happy to dance with her in the kitchen, listening to her sweet voice follow the tune. The moment was perfect, down to the song, to the way the sun caught in her hair as she twirled you both around the room, her citrusy perfume filling up your lungs along with the sweetness of the cookies. How could you have ever been blue? How could you have ever thought that happiness was not in for you? Lilia had come into your life and the world was suddenly a beautiful place where nothing could ever go wrong. Staring at her eyes it was as if they were the melted chocolate you had tasted on her lips earlier, warm and loving.

-They've got cars big as bars, they've got rivers of gold.

-But the wind goes right through you, it's no place for the old.

-When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve.

-You promised me Broadway was waiting for me.

-You were handsome

-You were pretty, Queen of New York City

She laughed at the nickname, head lulled back, her feet never stopping, moving from side to side. The living area wasn’t precisely Buckingham Place, but you two made it work, and as Lilia’s moved both your bodies, her dressing gown brushing the foot of the Christmas tree, she truly showed you how much that tiny little room could give. The warm light that had bathed the room suddenly disappeared, the bright colourful lights that she had placed in every corner overtaking and lighting up the room in a dance of colours and shapes. Your eyes drifted to the window seeing the sky covered by big fluffy white clouds, a gentle breeze having picked up outside the house, the first few snowflakes beginning to fall, but Lilia claimed your attention when she pushed your body away form hers while still holding your hands.

-The boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay and the bells were ringing out for Christmas day.

She pulled you back against her body once again, her arms around your waist, your hands resting on the back of her neck twirling her soft curls in between your fingers. Her forehead was pressed against yours, the movements slow as the song carried onto the last few verses letting the words drip from her lips in hushed tones only for you to hear. The two of you had closed your eyes letting the warmth of each other’s bodies wrap around you, basking in the way you could feel the love seeping from every pore, from every word that escaped her lips. It wasn’t until she sang the last verse, her breath tickling your nose, that she did press her lips to yours, hiding her face into the crook of your neck after a few moments to escape the reality outside those four walls. “Auld Lang Syne” followed, the softer tune perfect for you both to simply sway on the spot, your hands caressing Lilia’s hair and neck, your cheek resting against her ear as she breathed in your perfume and shampoo, humming happily. Neither of you wanted the moment to end, feeling as if being like this, in each other’s arms, was just the perfect way to live Christmas Eve before the craziness of going over to Sharon’s with the rest of the coven happened. You wanted to savour every second you had with Lilia and only Lilia. For once the world could wait, stop moving altogether until you were ready to carry on with life, though you doubted you would ever let the happen.

Right on time the last few notes playing marked start of another song, the oven starting to beep. Lilia did not wish to move, but she had to, extracting herself after a minute to pull the trays out, letting them float around just like she had done before. You helped her transfer the chocolate chip cookies onto a plate, setting them aside so she could let the sugar cookies out of the trays and onto the racks. But you were impatient, she knew, and with a flick of her wrist, your eyes shinning gleefully as you watched a few sparkles of golden magic fly from her fingertips, they were cold enough to be placed on the kitchen table to be decorated.

-Do you have any ideas you want to share, darling?

-Not really, well, maybe. I think we should paint the Coven with their signature colours.

-Alright. Let’s start with Agatha, that way if she looks bad it won’t matter much. She owes me a bunch of cutters.

It was playful banter, she didn’t really hate Agatha, quite the opposite, she took care of the woman as if she were a daughter, looking after her, looking out for her, protecting her from the world as if she were afraid someone could break her. It was one of the main things that had attracted you to her at first, her caring, nurturing nature. She picked up an empty pipping bag and let you fill it up with the purple icing before cutting the tip. The first blob fell right in the middle of the reindeer, and since there wasn’t much she could now she carried on. The shape was horrid, but she assured you that once the details were added it would bring it all together. You weren’t very sure. The eyes looked a bit disproportionate, and the antlers were a bit thick, but all in all Lilia thought it looked good, and you didn’t want to disagree.

-My turn now, let me do Sharon. In green?

-Yeah, we have two green witches, we’ll just make Rio’s eyes brown and call it a day.

You might not have been gifted with the knife, but you sure were better with the pipping bag than Lilia. Your reindeer was more accurate, green but accurate, the small beady eyes perfectly positioned but the antlers… the looked like a bunch of worms. It suited a green witch you supposed. Lilia was quick to praise and tell you that it was beautiful, kissing your temple and watching as you did Rio’s as well, a perfect reindeer in front you down to red nose and everything. You were so excited, bouncing in her arms, her words filled with love and joy as she told you just how pretty it was. Her hands moved on to Jen, the shape of the snowwoman much easier than that of a reindeer in pretty shade of pink, the eyes and buttons brown, along with a blue scarf and orange nose. She put it aside to let the icing harden your hands working on Billy as she did Alice, both snowman that looked pretty decent taking on account that Lilia’s orange pipping bag burst in her hand just as she was finishing Alice’s body, icing all over the table and a couple of candy cane cookies.

-What a mess!

-Baking is messy, Lils. Don’t worry, there’s enough icing left to make more orange.

-But…

-It’s perfectly fine, honey, honestly. Just clean that up and I’ll make more. And those two cookies can be like orange flavoured candy canes. See? Problem solved.

-My baking hero.

Grabbing a glass after she pecked your cheek, you were quick to blend the right shade of orange, putting it inside a new pipping bag and handing it to Lilia so she could finish Alice’s body. It was beautiful to do this together, Lilia’s lines wiggly and the consistency a big lumpy when she tried to do the first few stockings until she gave up and moved on to the stars, easier in her opinion. You tried to write names on the stockings once she had moved them to your side of the table, but they were more like scribbles that no one could understand, still the colour code every member of the coven had settled for kind of helped to identify which was for which. The moment was both cozy and hilarious, pointing at the figures you were both painting, commenting, laughing and scraping to begin again only to end up with the same wiggly lines and mismatched colours. Lilia once in a while added her own touch to one of your cookies, be it a weird bow or a string of tinsel around a tree while you gave hers a more artistic touch by adding sparkles to her candy canes or little dots of colour on her reindeer’s antlers claiming that they were Christmas lights. She had laughed hard at that stating in between laboured breaths that it looked as if the poor thing had crashed a farmers’ market, and to be honest it kind of did, laughing along with her, your body pressed against her arm as you both shook and cackled. But neither of you cared, they were yours and in their horrid looks they looked perfect to you. The only thing left was to paint were you and Lilia’s gingerbread women, something that you were left in charge of as Lilia didn’t want to risk it. The pressure was real as you did Lilia’s face, her curls a mix of white and brown icing before you moved onto the clothes giving her a yellow jacket, white blouse and blue pants, the outfit you had met her in when she had been thrown out of the Witches Road after fishing her task. She had been covered in mud back then, but you weren’t one to add brown and destroy her beautiful cookie. You put as much effort in your own, dressing yourself in a pair of black trousers and a red blouse, your hair in a bun above your head.

-They look beautiful babe. Mirror images of reality.

-It’s easy when you have the perfect model in front of you. – she smiled at the compliment, a gentle pink hue dressing her cheeks. She blushed so tenderly and so beautifully.

-Flattery will get you everywhere with me, darling.

-I certainly hope so.

-As much as I love the idea of letting you have your way with me, why don’t we let these cookies settle for a bit and go out?

-Everything’s closed.

-I didn’t say that we had to go somewhere in specific. You like snow, don’t you?

-Of course!

-Then get your winter boots on and let’s make a real snowman!

-Really?!

You jumped on the spot nearly knocking over the table, Lilia’s hands shooting to grab it, your lips on her cheek before rushing to the other side of the room. You apologised while running to your closet, grabbing a jumper, a pair of thicker trousers along with some Harry Potter socks and rushing to the bathroom, your voice reaching her ears as you sang loudly, your voice filled with joy, knocking over things that were on the sink.

-Do you want to build a snowman?!

-Oh, God, not “Frozen” again.

[mochinomnoms]

i just want to saw that you really cooked with the trey scenario and it’s been on my mind since you posted it. like imagine the banter between the two?? the way i would perceive every interaction i would have with him as condescending especially with his cute, infuriating smirk while he over on the side thinking of how to subtly get your heart (and how to sneak in a few baking puns too). smth smth trey shares a family recipe and we point it out and trey is deflecting hard.

-🪸

Im glad you liked it! I've been working at a bakery for a few weeks now and I was surprised at how little baking I do (which is none). 90% of the job is packaging the goods to sell in the store! So the idea just came to me while at work!

In all good fun, I think Trey would try to poke a bit of fun at you, though he does firmly believe in the superiority of a proper bakery versus a grocery store one. He'll acknowledge that he's biased, but not wrong.

But with the wrong tone and a prefect who woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, Trey is suddenly met with a one-sided rivalry that he could end with an apology, but...

Well, forgive him for this, but Trey finds it very funny and endearing how offended and angry you get. Especially when your immediate response is to challenge him to a bake off (which you lose, miserably).

It's such a deviation from your usual mannerisms. You're always polite, kind, and attentive, and the fact that he's the only one to rile you up over something that's really so trival is actually a bit fun to him. Trey has had to be a big brother figure for the last few years and regin in Riddle as best as he can, so it's nice to have a bit of fun.

You're just mad that this fedora wearing, broccoli-color haired, 5'11" asshole called your old job "pseudo baking". So what if he's technically right and you didn't bake anything from scratch yourself? That doesn't mean he gets to say it to your face without consequences!

Most of the banter is you giving Trey snide comments and him replying with amused, teasing remarks. Normally he wouldn't let this escalate to the level it's at now, but damn it you're awfully cute and it's actually a bit fun watching you scramble around in the kitchen to make simple cupcakes.

"I know the recipe! I just didn't have to make it since I did a later shift—BUT I still trained for baking stuff you know!"

"Sure. Of course, baking pre-made mixes right?"

"Oh fuck off. 'PRe-MaDe MIxeS—' shut the fuck up!"

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? It's fine if you did, you're a grocery store baker, after all. Sorry, sorry."

"No, you're not! You're fucking smirking! The audacity—I should use this spoon to smack that dumb smirk off your pretty face, you moth—"

You shut up pretty quick after your slip of the tongue, focused on the handwritten recipe card that looks like it's been passed down a few generations at this point. Trey's started to flush pink, though his smile is softer and more fond now, as he continues watching you in silence.

Like I said, he's having fun in his own way. You, on the other hand, are fighting off the heat in your face as you're wondering at what point you started finding his stupid face attractive.

[newtonsheffield]

omg baby neddy and Edwina concerts 🥺 do any of the other kids take an interest in music? Is Ben hella jealous because he can't compete as an uncle against an electric guitar? Does Edwina have a video of Anthony pretending to be a rockstar for blackmail that she ends up sharing anyway bc she cant resist? Down the line, if Josie never caves, does she give Edwina the ultimatum of garage studio or moving in with her (we know the obvious choice)?

Little Neddy is too young to really play the guitar but he likes to stand in front of Edwina who holds down the strings and he strums a little. He also likes to stands in front of Edwina’s band and dance while they play wearing his little blue duffle coat.

Edwina loves having this over Benedict. Benedict can add all the pages he wants into Hairy Maclary, can he let Neddy play the drums? Can he sing the Daddy and Amma song? No. Useless.

Edwina’s also… a liiiitle bit aware of how pictures of her with Neddy on Instagram usually gets her DMs absolutely flooded with invitations of all sorts.

Josie knows how to kill two birds with one stone, meanwhile. She has plans drawn up for her own house to have the garage converted to a studio but she thought it’d be funny to ask Edwina.

“So I’ve decided you can have your studio.”

Edwina nearly fell off her chair, “What?!”

“You can have your studio or you can move in with me.”

Edwina paused, narrowing her eyes at her girlfriend.

“Stop thinking about it.” Josie sighed, “Just move on with me.”

Edwina sighed, stepping into Josie’s arms. “Being married to a politician is going to ruin my reputation.”

“Who said we were getting married?”

Edwina rolled her eyes, “If we’re living together we’re basically married. Get used to being my wife.”

“You could just ask me.”

“Nope. We also need to get you a new oven. Because I cannot cook on that monstrosity.”

“Yes, Honey.”

[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.

[aotopmha]

I saw Sonic movie 3.

And it was a really solid movie, in fact, surprisingly strong in terms of theme and character writing in particular even if I already expected an improvement.

But I think the blunt nature of the movie was my favourite aspect of it.

It had the brisk pacing and concise writing of the best Dragon Ball movies.

I saw some reviews say the second act was slower than they would've liked, but I never felt any kind of slowdown myself.

There was some stilted exposition here and there, but because the movie was so propulsive, none of it ever overtook the story to the point where it started affecting its overall quality, same for the pop culture references or human characters (helps that the roles the humans got were relevant to the story at hand).

Some of the references were actually funny because of the more snappy execution – among other elements the comedic timing for jokes improved considerably here (though I personally still could do without most of the referencing).

They did exactly what I think they needed to do, which is to tighten the pacing and focus on the strongest aspect of their writing: the forementioned themes and characterisation.

Team Sonic was great, the Robotniks were great and Shadow was great.

Though by the end, there was a mild nagging wish for just a little bit more of everything on my part.

All of the above elements were great, but because there were so many characters to focus on in a relatively short span of time, the exact opposite issue for pacing in comparison to the previous movies popped up in that I think the movie needed just a little bit more runtime to let some scenes sit a little more.

Because it was so larger-than-life, I also had no issues with the back and forth between comedic and serious scenes like I saw some reviewers say they had, as well, not just because it is a movie about an anthropomorphic blue hedgehog, but also because the movie did a great job of setting the tone to make the more ridiculous elements work.

The best I had to say about Sonic 2 is that it was a live action cartoon and Sonic 3 fully embraces this element of itself.

So, the movie is as fantastic of a Sonic Adventure 2 adaption you could get given the time limitation of a movie, but just short of truly amazing because of it, as well.

What truly surprises me is that I think I can recommend this as a generally good movie, not just a good movie for Sonic fans.

I brought this up with the other two, but these movies feel like classic 90s kids' movies and this movie is that ten fold.

Definitely, absolutely go see it if you're a Sonic fan, though.

SPOILERS FROM HERE.

They totally killed both of the Robotniks because they don't know if they can get Jim Carrey back, and if they are able to get him back, they'll absolutely bring him back.

He was at his peak performance here in my eyes, but more than that I love how he ended up also having a character arc that tied to the themes of the story along with Sonic and Shadow.

Putting everything else aside, I think the part of the movie which earned that 88% Rotten Tomatoes rating with the critics is the strong thematic throughline augmented by the extremely economically told character stories.

Gerald Robotnik's existence allowed to explore Ivo Robotnik and his lack of any familial connection similarly to Shadow's and Sonic's familial losses.

Robotnik's farewell and acknowledgement of Stone at the end of movie not only paid off his arc in the movie (the realisation that he did not share his grandfather's hatred for humanity), but also all of the screentime Stone and Eggman had in the other two movies.

While Sonic's similarity to Shadow was highlighted when Shadow attacked and seriously injured Tom (even without willingly wanting to do so) and Sonic temporarily went down a similarly vengeful, solitary path.

Unlike Shadow, however, he ultimately chose the different, better path, by sparing him.

And both of them understood each other by the end because of their shared experience of loss.

I think how Shadow and Knuckles were handled actually was the best example of this movie's extremely tight script.

Shadow actually didn't talk that much, with a very large chunk of his story actually being "shown" via flashbacks characterising Maria, but when he did, it always felt like it had gravitas.

And to me the absolute best of this was the scene at the tail end of the movie where you actually see Maria die; the cinematography transitioning to present Shadow powering the Eclipse Cannon said everything it needed to say just via the visuals and nothing else. It was a fantastic example of "show, don't tell".

Because it is all so firmly consistent, when it all comes together in the final 20 to 30 minutes, everything feels natural and earned.

Everything connects and makes sense on a character level, even if the plot itself uses a bunch of coincidence/contrivance to streamline the order of events and, in turn, all of the side characters tie into this three-way web.

I mentioned Stone, Tom (earlier in the movie, Tom also has a thematically good, if more stilted heart to heart with Sonic) and Maria (who I also like because she's just a fairly normal kid in this interpretation of the story), but I actually really want to highlight Tails and Knuckles, as well.

Moreso Knuckles because I like how the argument throughout the movie about the team name evolves from Team Sonic or Team Knuckles to just "team" by the end and I really like how Knuckles responds to (and opposes) Sonic recklessly asking to use the Master Emerald, which ties into the themes of the second movie. It's a surprising bit of refreshing nuance.

I think Tails is the most standard out of all three, serving as a mediator and the brains of the operation, mostly staying the same from the previous movie, with perhaps simply less prominent admiration for Sonic.

Everything, from sometimes to the smallest of lines or visuals to the most impactful ones is tied to the theme of family and familial loss.

Eventhough they have such comparatively small roles in the movie, even Tom and Maddie wanting to join the insanity is a great payoff when thinking about where their characters started.

This story has a theme that is extremely old, but you can't argue with rock solid thematic/character substance (and so can't the critics it seems).

Do I myself think as highly of the movie as the current Rotten Tomatoes score?

Not really, I think I see it more in the ballpark of a firm 7-8/10, but it certainly is fantastic for what it is trying to be.

Thinking a little bit about the future, though, I'm really curious about what they'll do with Metal Sonic and Amy because I think CD and Heroes are to this day my personal "flawed favourites" of the series.

CD was my favourite Sonic game when I was younger because I loved the aesthetics of it, from the intro to the zones to music and Metal Sonic might be my favourite rival character for Sonic because of how the game presents its set pieces.

Unfortunately, I think it just doesn't hold up in terms of level design, in the same way how I think Heroes has awesome level design, but does not hold up because of the control issues and glitches.

So if there's one Sonic movie made "for me", it'll be this 4th one.

I certainly have much higher expectations for it with the context of this one, at least.

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Obx Headcanons Part 2|Under the Mistletoe

Fluff, you’re dating/in love with the characters, written with a Fem!reader in mind

—Header from saradika-graphics—

JJ:

As soon as he sees that mistletoe, he’s pulling you right underneath it ❤️

And no, he won’t hold back. It might be a light peck or heavy make-out, but how could he resist kissing his baby?

He doesn’t really know the difference between mistletoe, holly, or weed. They’re all the same thing to him. Funny lil’ quirk of his. 😂

He might just hold some over the two of you for the chance to try out the tradition. He’s curious and charming, after all.

Rafe:

He might find it stupid at first, but then again, why not? He, too, loves kissing his sweetheart.

He’s not wasting a single moment. Without warning, he’s pulling you under and pressing those lips to yours.

He’ll want to do this every day— Even when the holiday season is over and the mistletoe gone, he’ll still be stealing you away to share plenty of affectionate kisses.

He’s a bit more aggressive than the other characters and may be annoyed if you don’t go further than a kiss. He expects you to go much further, in fact~

Kiara:

Aw, how sweet. A romantic time under the mistletoe during Christmas. She’d love to do this with you.

She’s more sincere and would for sure make this a special moment.

She may roll her eyes at such a cliché tradition, but secretly she imagines what it would be like holding your face in her hands with a little green plant overtop you.

She might only do this once, or twice, or a few times. Depends how she likes it the first time.

Pope:

If you ask him? He’ll be nervous about it. Will take a lot of convincing.

He might hang it up himself, then ask you shyly if you want to do “something new.”

He’s sweet! You guys will look so cute together.

Who knows how he’ll feel about it; if other people aren’t around he’ll definitely do it again.

John B:

He won’t say a word to you, just smile and press a kiss to your lips with the mistletoe on the ceiling.

You might be the one to point it out first, then kiss him, catching him by surprise.

John B can be romantic or casual. Depends on his mood. 

We both know he’ll want to do more with you. He’s pulling you onto the bed straight afterwards.

Sarah:

She’s doing this without hesitation. Why wouldn’t she?

So, so, so sweet. There’s nothing that could go wrong with kissing under the mistletoe with this darling.

How could you resist? A cheeky smile will be on this face the whole time. You’ll be able to feel it.

She’d be one to flip off one of your friends, whilst still kissing you, if they happen to make fun of you two caught in the act.

Cleo:

Haha, she’d laugh at this if you asked. She wouldn’t say no though.

Does she know about this stereotype? Probably heard of it at one point or another.

She’d do it in front of your friends, just to make a show. She doesn’t care what they think.

Aw, just a peck on the lips. Nothing too big, but you’ll both be sure to remember it forever.

Have to go greet some guests for Christmas Eve— See you all tomorrow! 🎅🏻

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Calico - Act Three

Choi Y/N is pretty, smart, and funny and she knows it - mostly because she hears it all the time from all the men (read: victims) she dates. She’s about to get a taste of her own medicine. 

You can find the masterlist here. 

Calico has a sequel called LMLY, if you’re interested.

Genre: (a little) fluff, (quite a bit of) angst, smut, college au, heavily inspired by John Tucker Must Die

Pairing: Joshua x female reader (with mentions of Mingyu x female reader, Woozi x female reader, Seokmin x female reader, Jeonghan x female reader)

TW/CW: MDNI!!, contains smut with no protection mentioned (be safe please!!), mentions of alcohol, food, a whole lot of cyber bullying.

Word count: 8.6k

This is a repost of a previous fic I did. It was one of the first fics that I ever posted on here and I wish I had made some different choices aesthetically. The content will be the same, it will just be a little prettier and more readable.

The drive is quiet, mostly because no one knows what to say. It’s never been this quiet for the three of them, not in 22 years. Not even when it was supposed to be. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan aren’t talking. Two weeks ago, Seungcheol found Jeonghan on campus and just started swinging. Jeonghan ended up with a bloody nose before some of Seungcheol’s teammates nearby could drag Seungcheol off of him. Not as bad as it could have been, but it was a first. They’d never been in a fist fight before, not even as kids on the playground. They ended up in front of the Dean for it too. Thankfully, the Dean let it slide with a warning. 

Seungcheol is also not talking to Y/N, specifically because he hadn’t known she slept with Mingyu the night of their birthday party months ago. He’d thought he had a pretty close relationship with his twin sister, but he feels betrayed that he found some thing like that out on twitter of all places. 

Jeonghan and Y/N are talking, but barely. The tension is overwhelming. No matter how much they emphasize that they haven’t been sleeping together, no one seems to believe them. Without really discussing it, they decide some distance would be good. He’s insistent that he’s still her best friend for life and she’ll never be rid of him, though it doesn’t feel like it from the back seat of her and Seungcheol’s shared car. 

Y/N kind of feels like a ghost. She has for two weeks now. She barely took in anything to do with dead week or finals week. The normal stress of that time of the year doesn’t really register because she feels too numb. It’s kind of a blessing because if she can’t take much in, she doesn’t notice all the laughter and whispers that follow her around campus, at cheer practice, and in the sorority house. 

Just about the only person that gives her any sympathy is Wonwoo when she goes to return the loaner laptop before leaving for the break. He delicately asks how she’s doing and he seems like he really wants to know. His kindness doesn’t feel like something she deserves. She leaves before she cries in front of him again. 

Tonight is the dinner at her father’s house. Jeonghan is always invited and is still coming despite whatever is going on with the three of them. When they got in the car, the only thing they really said to each other is that they didn’t want to involve their parents in this mess. So they had to pretend like everything was fine, if only for one dinner. 

The mansion is cold when the three of them arrive. Their bags are still in the car because they aren’t staying here. Y/N is relieved by that small blessing. She can’t wait to be in her old bedroom in her mom’s small cozy apartment in a matter of hours. 

Nari greets them with a smile that is totally fake. She’s wearing a little black dress and heels under her apron. Y/N guesses she’s taken on the role of housewife since leaving her position as secretary at the company. It sounded like it didn’t look good for her to be married to the boss, preferential treatment and all. 

Nari sends them to the sitting room. It’s cold in there too and not a blanket in sight over the back of the couch or in a bin in the corner. Jeonghan silently takes off his wooly cardigan and hands it to her, ignoring Seungcheol’s glare. He’s been doing that anytime he sees the two of them interact. 

Nari comes out with a tray of drinks, handing them around. Y/N takes a single sip of the drink and puts it down. There’s no grenadine in hers while the boys’ drinks are a light pink because of it. She knows it’s a calculated jab to not give her something everyone else gets but Y/N refuses to give Nari the satisfaction of a reaction. 

“Where’s Appa tonight?” Seungcheol asks politely. Everything is formal with Nari, just as it’s always been with their father too. 

Nari smiles and it’s so sickly sweet that Y/N has to look away. “He called and said he was running late at the office. Should be here anytime. Excuse me, I need to go check the roast. The chef is on vacation.” She says it snidely, like the chef doesn’t deserve a vacation, but the three of them say nothing. Once she’s out of the room, Jeonghan switches drinks with Y/N, taking the non-grenadine one. He, again, pointedly ignores Seungcheol’s glare.

Y/N is still cold at dinner where she picks at her food. Her father has barely glanced at her the whole time. He’s worried about how Seungcheol’s team is going to do this year and how Jeonghan’s applications to the internship at his company’s office near the university have gone. He promises to put in a good word for Jeonghan. 

Reluctantly, her father looks down his nose at Y/N. “And how was your semester?”

“It went well,” Y/N said, feeling a little bit like she was in a job interview. “I got straight As. The sorority and cheer team are doing well too.” She could talk about the fundraisers and volunteer events the sorority did, or how she learned a new stunt for a routine, but she knows by now he doesn’t really care. He’d always looked at her with such disinterest, even as a child.

Her father pretends to look pleased. “Good to hear. We need a Dr. Choi in the family. Can’t let those grades slip.” Y/N just nods in agreement. “By the way, did you get the replacement laptop I sent?” 

“I did. Thank you for sending it so quickly. I apologize that I didn’t send you a message when I got it, but I had a lot to catch up on, what with a broken laptop.” The words burn in her throat. She doesn’t want to thank him. She doesn’t want anything from him. She wants her mom. 

“Of course, but you should really be more careful, Y/N. Don’t be so reckless with your belongings,” he scolds. Y/N doesn’t miss how pleased Nari is with the lecture. Y/N remembers when Nari sent her to boarding school for part of semester in high school. Seungcheol hadn’t been sent away since he was supposed to be a starter on the basketball team. Their mother had to drive to the boarding school and pull her out after Y/N cried on the phone one too many times. Nari didn’t look happy when she showed up on the doorstep with her suitcase again.

“Yes sir,” Y/N answers meekly, if only to avoid anymore conversation. Seungcheol and Jeonghan both clench their jaws across the table. 

After an agonizing couple hours, Seungcheol makes the excuse that they should get going. They still have to drop Jeonghan off and get home to their mother’s apartment across town. 

In the car, neither boys say anything as Y/N cries in the backseat. This dinner was the straw that broke the camel's back. Jeonghan ignores Seungcheol’s looks in the rearview mirror because he refused to sit in the front seat, sliding into the back with her to hold her hand. 

The break flies by only because Y/N wishes it wouldn’t. She’d like to stay in her warm bed in her mom’s warm apartment for the rest of her life. She surprises herself by even considering not going back, but she knows she’d never hear the end of it. After all, she has one semester left. Then she can pick anywhere for medical school, given that she gets accepted. 

Her mother is clearly worried, and Y/N feels so guilty for it. Her mother has been a nurse for over 20 years. She works hard and she works long, weird hours. She always has in order to make it work for the twins. So Y/N tries to slap a smile on her face when she’s out of her room if only to keep her from worrying, particularly when she’s just come home from an overnight shift. 

But it seems it doesn’t matter because her mother still knocks on her door the night before they’re scheduled to drive back to school. Y/N is packing after doing some laundry and she slaps that fake smile on her face when her mother sits cross legged on her bed. “Are you sure you have to go? You could just move back in for good. Just don’t tell your brother,” her mother teases. 

This does bring a little bit of a genuine smile to Y/N’s face. “I would love to, but I’m so close to being done.” 

“I know, baby, and I’m so proud of you.” Her mother stopped and stared for a second. Finally, she sighs. “You know, I had a really bad semester at nursing school. Even had to switch schools because of it.”

Y/N isn’t sure how she knows that the semester was bad because she hadn’t said anything. But there’s no point in denying it. She’s been moping for weeks now. “Really? What happened?”

“Some mean girls,” her mother shrugs. “They’re everywhere, but they were more tolerable at the second school.”

Y/N continues folding clothes if only to keep busy. “What if I’m the mean girl?” 

“What do you mean, baby?” 

It had been weighing on Y/N’s mind. Something about the post a couple weeks before finals had made things painfully obvious to her. She hadn’t realized how it looked to others while she was chasing and looking for the right guy. She didn’t realize how many feelings she’d hurt on that chase. She eventually deleted her twitter account and locked down all of her other socials to avoid finding out how anyone else really felt about her. 

“I think I’ve hurt some feelings with my dating habits. I didn’t mean anything by it… but I did.” 

Her mother is quiet for a moment, before waving her over. There’s something so comforting about curling up into her mother’s side. “I’ll tell you what I think, okay?” Y/N nods into her shoulder. “You have so much love to give. You always have, you and Seungcheol both. And you really want to be with someone to share that. But maybe it’s okay if you keep it to yourself sometimes.” Her mother’s head plops down on top of Y/N’s. “You know, I was always afraid the divorce would affect you two. It’s why I stayed until I just couldn’t anymore. But now I see how you might be chasing after the validation you didn’t see in mine and your father’s relationship. And you don’t need it, okay? Take care of yourself first.”

Y/N is tearful and this is all too serious, so she has to crack a joke. “I think you’re spending too much time covering shifts in the psych ward. You sound like a shrink.”

Y/N’s mother laughs loudly. “Oh, I know. They’re keeping me on that rotation because I’m so good. Come on. Let’s finish packing this and then we’ll make some cookies for you to take with you tomorrow.”

Mingyu is pissed. He has been for days. Specifically, because a couple days before he was due to come back from break, the twitter account mysteriously disappears. So does any trace of it. No one has screenshots and the document they’d drafted of the exposé is gone too. All that’s left is anything they compiled for the final project. 

Seungkwan says he didn’t do anything with the twitter account and Mingyu believes him because his texts sound panicked. As Seungkwan is lamenting over the years he’s spent building up that account, Mingyu develops a theory. When he calls Wonwoo multiple times without receiving an answer, he considers it evidence. 

So when Mingyu arrives back at his apartment, he’s seething. Wonwoo looks totally unfazed where he lays on the couch with a book as Mingyu all but throws down his suitcase. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Wonwoo sounds bored. He doesn’t even look up from his book. 

“The twitter account, you asshole!”

“Oh, that? I hacked it and deleted it.” Wonwoo says this so casually that it almost makes Mingyu’s brain explode. 

“Why would you do that?! You know how hard we worked on that.” Mingyu thinks he might hit Wonwoo. “Months of work and now we have nothing to show for it. And years of work for Seungkwan.”

“That’s too bad,” Wonwoo says without an ounce of sympathy. 

Mingyu is fast approaching the bargaining phase. He plops down on the couch next to Wonwoo. “I thought you said you couldn’t do it anyway. What happened?”

Wonwoo gives him a blank look. “Oh, I’ve spent months on it, but I was finally able to do it over the break. It wasn’t easy, but it was very satisfying to click confirm on that little pop up.”

Mingyu stammers, at a total loss of words. Eventually, he’s pleading. “Why, Wonwoo? That was the basis of our whole project.” 

“And your project is done. I saw the document you guys turned in.” Wonwoo’s voice is turning icy. “What? It wasn’t enough for you to get a little revenge and an A+? Now you want to go back and relive it?”

“Why are you acting like this? You don’t even like her!” Mingyu cried. 

“I like her a hell of a lot more than I like any of you guys right now. I don’t even recognize you anymore, Mingyu.” It’s Wonwoo’s turn to be mad. He slams the book closed, throwing it down on the coffee table. “You tore her apart and then kept that account up to let everyone else keep tearing her apart. Do you feel better now? Does that help you get over the three dates you took her on? Are you seeing how you guys overreacted now?”

“She had it coming,” Mingyu argued but he was losing heat. Wonwoo rarely lectured him like this. 

“You destroyed her. I’ll be surprised if she even comes back,” Wonwoo snapped, standing up to pace. “I asked her if she was okay when she turned in the loaner laptop and she looked like she could cry on the spot. Whatever vengeance you got, I hope you enjoyed it because you don’t get anymore if it touches a computer or phone. I’ll hack every single device you guys have to make sure of it.”

Mingyu has deflated, totally stunned. “Why are you defending her? I don’t understand this at all.”

“I’m defending her because it seems like literally no one else is. I’m sure you know the damage that you’ve caused.” When Mingyu gives him a blank look, Wonwoo snaps again. “Let me refresh your memory. I heard she’s the laughing stock of the sorority and cheer team. She’s deleted her twitter account because there were hundreds of people tagging her in comments. And last I heard Seungcheol and Jeonghan fought.”

Mingyu had heard that. It makes news in the locker room when your captain gets into a fist fight and is sent to the Dean’s office. The coach wasn’t happy. “I can’t help that,” Mingyu insisted. “Besides, that was probably a long time coming. Joshua said Y/N had been sleeping with Jeonghan the whole time.”

“And that’s another thing! They’re both firmly denying that.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes because he can’t help it. “And you believe that? How do you know all of this anyway? Everyone’s been gone for break.”

“You know, I do believe it actually, especially since she didn’t bother denying anything else you guys wrote. And let’s just say some other accounts have been cleaned up as well.” Wonwoo picks up his book. “I’m leaving. I mean it though. You guys are done.”

Wonwoo’s disappointment is clear and leaves Mingyu feeling conflicted. But the thing is, the project’s over and the twitter account is gone. Mingyu decides it’s time to move on. 

Joshua can feel eyes on him, but this time he knows who it is. Minghao has been doing a lot of staring lately. Neither had anywhere to go during the break, but they saw very little of each other. It seems Minghao is upset with him, and Joshua hasn’t asked yet. 

But it’s starting to drive him crazy, because he really wants to enjoy his night off and watch some TV. When he glances at Minghao, his roommate is peering over his laptop. Joshua raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Minghao continues to stare, before finally saying, “Nothing.”

Joshua scoffs. “If you have something to say, just say it. You’ve been like this all break.”

Minghao purses his lips. “Nothing, really. I just thought you were nicer, is all.”

“Nicer? What do you mean?” Joshua prided himself on being polite, a gentleman even. 

“I mean the twitter account.” Joshua must looked surprised, because Minghao rolls his eyes. “Yes, even I have twitter. And even if I didn’t it would have been impossible to miss. I just don’t understand how you got involved in all that. Or why.”

“She deserved it,” Joshua mumbled. He didn’t really have another excuse anymore. He’d deleted the app to keep from looking at it because it was kind of like watching a car crash. 

“I beg to differ.”

Minghao’s statement makes Joshua’s jaw drop as he sits up. “What do you mean? You were the first one to tell me what she was like.”

“Yeah, I get it. Play the player and all. But you and whoever you were working with took it to the extreme,” Minghao said seriously. “I mean, there are some nasty things being written about her.” 

“So?” 

Minghao blinks a few times. “Fine, be that way. Leave me alone, though.” Joshua watched as Minghao slid headphones on and turned away. 

Y/N has never been what you would call a recluse. She liked to be around people, always had, but she finds she can’t when she returns to campus. She hides out in her room at the sorority house most of the time, even avoiding her housemates. Some are mean and others are pitying, but Y/N doesn’t care for either of those things, so she waits until everyone has left or is in bed before she comes out for things like food or laundry. 

She’s taken to spending a lot of time in bed. Not scrolling, not watching TV, not even reading. She’s staring at that same spot on the wall when there’s a knock on her bedroom door. It opens and Seungcheol comes in. They haven’t really talked much outside of the necessities of traveling together so she sits up in bed, surprised. He doesn’t really acknowledge her as he puts the bags he’s carrying down onto her desk. She watches as he unpacks a couple orders of her favorite sushi. When he hands them to her with a pair of chopsticks, her eyes water a bit. 

She doesn’t dig in right away, waiting for him to get his stuff and sit next to her on the bed. He doesn’t crack open his food either. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry. I made such a mess without even realizing it.”

“Maybe a little,” Seungcheol chuckles. “But you’re still my sister and I’m sorry that I didn’t just come talk to you about it. And I’m sorry I haven’t really helped you out any lately. I know you’ve had a hard time with all this.”

Y/N sighs, putting her food to the side. She leans into Seungcheol. “Maybe I deserved it. All the pranks. The twitter account. I didn’t even realize how bad it all looked until I read it along with everyone else.”

She feels Seungcheol shake his head. “No. They don’t understand it.” She doesn’t have to ask what he’s referring to because she knows it’s about their father and the divorce. Seungcheol had once jokingly said the whole thing had given her a complex, but maybe it wasn’t much of a joke. “And anyway, that whole thing with Joshua reeked. I wish I’d pressed you more to end it with him because it’s totally unfair that it was a set up.”

Y/N frowns. She’d tried not to think much of Joshua lately because it would do no good. She hadn’t heard from him and she didn’t expect to, so she hadn’t reached out either. “I should have known it was too good to be true.” 

“Maybe, but it’ll work out with someone someday.” Seungcheol sounds like he means that. After a beat, he asks, “So you and Jeonghan? How long has that been going on?”

“It hasn’t been. We lost our virginity to each other when we were 16. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Seungcheol sounds surprised. 

“Yeah, I promise. It rarely comes up anymore. I’m not even sure how that rumor got started recently,” Y/N sags into Seungcheol’s side. That was something that hadn’t gone back to normal yet. She was used to seeing Jeonghan all the time, maybe more than she saw her twin, but they didn’t really know how to be around each other lately. 

“Do you wish it would come up? The idea of you and him, I mean?” 

Y/N is surprised by the question, only because she remembers hearing about their fight. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” Seungcheol nods. Y/N bites her lip. “Sometimes. I wished it would have back then, but we were so lucky we didn’t ruin our friendship at 16. Not that it matters now, even if I did want it to come up.”

“He misses you too, don’t worry,” Seungcheol says easily. 

“Have you guys made up?” Y/N’s head pops up, relief in her eyes. 

“Yeah, I interrogated him this morning,” Seungcheol smiles and there’s a flash of something mischievous before it clears and he’s serious again. “I told him to come see you but he’s working up the courage. He wishes he could have shielded you from all of this.” Y/N frowns at Seungcheol’s explanation, but he doesn’t let her press him for anything. “And for the record, I’d be okay with it if you two did have something going on. I’d just like to know about it. Don’t keep secrets from me anymore.”

Seungcheol places her food back in her lap and with a tone of finality, he insists, “Eat. That place is expensive.”

Y/N does, feeling a little bit lighter. 

The next day, she decides that she’s not going to wait for Jeonghan to come see her. He’s been her best friend for over 20 years and this is getting fixed today. Seungcheol is out when she knocks on their apartment door. Jeonghan looks like he just woke up but his eyes widen when he sees her. “Surprise,” Y/N sings lamely, holding a bag from their favorite bakery. 

Nevertheless, Jeonghan smiles and lets her in. They sit together on the floor next to the coffee table. As kids, they didn’t care to sit at the table or even on the couch, and it was a habit they still had occasionally if only for nostalgia.

Jeonghan would normally inhale the cake that she’s just given him but he eats slowly today. Y/N picks at her own slice. “I’m sorry you got roped into all of this.” 

He looks at her for a long time and she’s beginning to worry that he’ll kick her out. But eventually he shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong in my book, so there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Others would disagree with you,” Y/N says bitterly, putting her cake down on the coffee table and pulling her knees up to her chest. Laying her chin on her knees, she looks at him. She can’t imagine not fixing this with him, but it’s up to her to apologize and it’s up to him to decide if he still wants to be friends. “I don’t even know how that rumor started. It makes you look bad too, since you’ve been dating as well. So I’m still sorry.”

Jeonghan looks so stubborn now. She knows the look well. It’s the same one he gives when someone tells him to do something he doesn’t want to do, like doing chores or homework. “No. I don’t accept your apology because it’s not needed.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes. “Let me apologize,” she pleads. “You should be saying ‘I told you so’ anyway. You’ve been telling me for years to be more careful.”

“You’re misunderstanding, Y/N,” Jeonghan lets out in exasperation. “I never told you to be careful because of how it looked. I know your intentions were never bad. And I never imagined anyone would do anything so… cruel in response to it.” He looks back down to his cake, picking some of the frosting off with the fork. “I only told you to be careful because I didn’t like seeing you get let down over and over again. And I’m certain there’s no one who deserves you so it happens all the time.”

Y/N stares at him while he still picks the frosting off his cake. “Do you really feel that way? Not even you?” There’s a tinge of a joke, but she really wonders.

Jeonghan chuckles, some light returning to his eyes. “Not even me, and I’m flawless.” This earns a laugh from Y/N but then things get quiet. “Of course, I feel that way. Whoever you do end up with one day will be really lucky.”

There are so many things Y/N wants to say, but finally, she lands on, “I feel the same about you. I’ve been telling you for years that you’re total husband material.” 

Jeonghan laughs again. “And who made me learn all that? You hold your best friend to high standards,” he teases. “Now, can we go back to normal? I missed you.”

Y/N grinned. “I missed you too, Hannie. But did you really think I was leaving here without things going back to normal? You’ll never be rid of me, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” Jeonghan shoves her by the shoulder and she loses balance, laying flat on the floor. 

“Don’t make me kick you out. Now, eat your cake or I will.”

Joshua walks into the hospital with a minute to spare. It’s his first day at his internship and he’s really looking forward to it. He goes to the front desk and finds out where he’s supposed to be - to which the answer is the 3rd floor. This is one of the regular units, specifically not the ER or the ICU. As soon as he steps out of the elevator, he bites back a groan. 

Somehow, he’d forgotten that Y/N would be here. And even if she was, he kind of assumed they’d never have to run into each other because they’re interns in different departments. But sure enough, Y/N is standing there with the charge nurse that Joshua was told to find. 

Both women turn to him as he approaches. “Joshua, right?” The charge nurse, Eunji, asks and when Joshua nods, she smiles. “Good! And both of you are on time too. Joshua, have you met Y/N before?”

Joshua looks at Y/N, who doesn’t so much as glance at him now. Evenly, she says, “Yes, we’ve shared some classes.” Her tone has none of the usual sparkle to it, and he’s not sure if it’s because she’s trying to be professional or if it’s because he’s here standing next to her. 

“Great! Well, unfortunately, I don’t have anything exciting for you guys,” Eunji looks apologetic. “We need to do inventory today, and the tech that would normally do it during this shift is out.” Eunji hands both of them clipboards and pens, before leading them to a supply closet. The bare overhead light is not very bright and most of the corners are still dark. “Sorry it’s so dingy in here… Anyway, it’s pretty straightforward. For each line item, do a count and write it down. Split it however you’d like and if you have any questions I’ll be around.”

With that Eunji closes the door behind her, leaving Y/N and Joshua alone. They haven’t seen each other since that Sunday in her bedroom, outside of a couple classes they shared. Joshua feels awkward when Y/N turns to one of the shelves and starts without another word. He doesn’t know why but the silence kills him for the next hour. He has to recount rolls of gauze and boxes of bandaids a few times before he thinks he got it right. 

He’s in the middle of his third count of boxes of alcohol swabs when he hears a grunt behind him. When he turns, he sees Y/N on her tiptoes, trying to reach the top shelf. Without thinking, he comes up behind her, grabbing the bin that she needs and handing it to her. She barely glances up at him when she mumbles a quick, ‘thanks’, before turning to the table in the corner to count the contents of the bin. 

Joshua doesn’t know why he’s staring. Doesn’t know why he thinks she looks cute in hot pink scrubs and a ponytail. Doesn’t know why he likes how concentrated she looks. It burns him up inside that he wants to talk to her when he couldn’t wait to be rid of her last semester. 

Impulsively, Joshua says, “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t look up from the bin. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“It’s just, we haven’t talked since…” He trails off when he sees the tension building in her shoulders. 

She looks up at him with confusion all over her face. “Joshua, I don’t mean to sound like a smart ass, but what would there be to talk about? That tweet was pretty clear about where we stood.”

“So? You have nothing to say?” Joshua’s blood starts to boil.

“What is there to say? No one wants to hear it anyway,” Y/N says with a bit of bitterness.

“A lot of people want to hear an apology,” Joshua seethed. “You’ve fucked with a lot of people.”

“Yeah. I know how to read twitter comments, Joshua,” Y/N snapped, throwing things back into the bin haphazardly to turn to him fully. “Are you happy? I don’t even know what I did to you. Other guys, fine. I’m not great to date, I get it now. The comments made it crystal clear. But I did absolutely nothing to you.”

“Absolutely nothing? What about sleeping with your best friend while you were seeing me?” 

Y/N throws her hands over her face in exasperation. “When we were 16! Not once since then. I’m so sick of explaining this.”

Joshua freezes. “What? But I heard you guys talking about it.” He watches realization wash over her face. 

“Oh my god,” she groans into her hands again. “You’re telling me you spread a rumor like that because you eavesdropped on a snippet of a conversation that you had no context for?” Joshua’s silence must be answer enough because she barrels on. “We did what stupid teenagers do and wanted to lose our virginities to someone we trusted. And if you had waited five fucking seconds, you would have heard him say that he was happy things were going well with us.” She laughs, but it’s not right because it sounds a little watery. “I really liked you, Joshua. I don’t know what I did to deserve all this. And I don’t give a fuck about the mean girls on the cheer team or in the sorority, or the gross guys on the basketball team, or anyone else on campus for that matter. But you almost wrecked the two relationships that I’ve had for my entire life.”

“You deserve it because I’ve met girls like you,” Joshua bit. “You just have to smile and you get handed whatever you want. You play with people like toys until you get bored.”

“Well, I didn’t get what I wanted, now did I?” Now she’s crying but she looks furious. “You saw to that, did you? All I wanted was for it to finally feel right with someone, and when it did it was all a trick.”

Joshua scoffs. “Like it’ll take you long to move on.”

Y/N’s chin wobbles in the dim lighting and there’s a pang in Joshua’s chest at the sight. “Oh no. I’ll be swearing off dating from now on. No one will have anymore reasons to fuel their stupid pranks or trap dates or twitter accounts.” Joshua freezes again and Y/N is on a roll now. “You didn’t think I would figure out who was behind all of that? It’s a little too convenient that you’ve been hanging out with just about everyone mentioned in that stupid tweet. Do you guys feel like you’ve gotten your revenge now? I considered dropping out over all of this. Would that have made you guys happy to never see me again?”

Joshua stumbles over his words. He didn’t expect her to piece everything together, and he really didn’t expect that she considered not coming back to finish her degree. She was a good student and seemed so invested in her future. But it doesn’t matter what he has to say because she’s shoving the clipboard into his chest hard as she passes by him. “You finish the rest. I can’t fucking reach it anyway.” 

The door slams behind her and he looks around the supply closet for help understanding what just happened. He feels guilty now in a way he hadn’t throughout this whole experiment. He’d felt that he had no choice but to transfer after the embarrassment that was the end of his relationship with Lily, and now he’d just made someone feel the same way. But she was brave enough to come back while he ran across the world with his tail between his legs.

When he finally snaps back to attention, it takes him way more than three counts to get each line item right. 

Two months have passed and things are looking up for Y/N. She, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan are glued to each other again just like it’s meant to be. What few classes she has to take are going well. And she’s getting used to the way things are with other people around campus. Once she got over the initial shock and subsequent depression at the whole situation, she decided not to acknowledge it anymore. She didn’t entertain the conversation with her sorority sisters or teammates when they asked if she was seeing someone. She was getting really good at shutting out anyone that asked her out, which seemed to be just as frequent as it was before. She used to enjoy the attention, but now she just saw a bunch of red flags. 

Her escape had become her internship. After the first day, Joshua was working in another unit so she didn’t have to see him. As promised when she was offered the internship, she would be shadowing in the ER. It was mostly triaging or assisting the non-critical cases, and she didn't even get to do the fun stuff. Mostly, she would call patients back and gather their history under the supervision of an RN. Then she might escort them to a room when one became available. The exciting days were when she could assist with treatments, but it was mostly handing the doctor or nurse things and holding the patient’s hand while she talked their ear off to distract them. 

Today was a triage shift and it was almost over when the nurse from the front desk gave her a new clip board and walked away. Y/N sees the name on the sheet and smacks her forehead with the clipboard hard. Then, resigned, she goes to the lobby. 

“Lee Seokmin.” 

He hobbles into the triage station with another guy holding him up on one side. She can tell he’s surprised to see her, but she doesn’t react to it. “Have a seat,” she said, pointing. She also drags over two more chairs so he can prop up his foot and his friend can sit down. “I’m Y/N and this is Yunseo.” Yunseo waved from the other side of the computer. “Yunseo is the RN for triage today, but since I’m an intern, she’s letting me take some of your medical history. Injured foot, huh?” She says neutrally. 

“Ankle I think… Y/N, this is my friend Junhui.”

Y/N gives Junhui a polite smile, but she can tell by his reaction to her name that he knows quite a bit about what’s been going on last semester. “What happened?” She asks Seokmin. 

“We were rehearsing and I tripped,” Seokmin sighs. 

“Can I take a look? I have to make sure it isn’t critical. If it is, I need to hand it off to Yunseo right now.” Seokmin doesn’t hesitate to roll up the leg of his jeans. His ankle is swollen and starting to develop a nasty bruise. Y/N hums sympathetically, and Yunseo nods encouragingly to her to continue. This is how Y/N knows she’s right to assume it’s not critical. “I’m sorry, that’s rough.” She backs away from Seokmin. “Well, unfortunately there’s not much to do until a doctor can see you besides icing your ankle and taking information for your records.” When Seokmin nods, Y/N zips out of the room.

She wants to linger at the ice machine for a breather, but today’s charge nurse is in the break room taking lunch. So, Y/N works quickly to get the bag of ice and returns to Seokmin and Junhui. Once the ice is on Seokmin’s ankle, Y/N plops down in front of the computer. It’s both a blessing and a curse that these questionnaires are so long. On one hand, there’s not a lot of time for them to talk about anything else when she’s peppering him with questions one after another. On the other hand, it feels like it takes an eternity to get through it. She tries to focus on the fact that this is good experience with Yunseo over her shoulder pointing out certain things.

Y/N feels like she’s so close to freedom after she’s rolled Seokmin in a wheelchair to an exam room while Yunseo calls the next patient to get started. “Someone will be in to see you shortly, but call if you need anything,” she says professionally. Her hand is on the knob to pull it closed behind her when Seokmin speaks up. 

“Y/N? I’m sorry.” 

She pauses and she can’t help but frown at him. He does look sorry actually, guilt all over his face. Junhui must sense where this is going, so he asks where the vending machine is and excuses himself. Y/N is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed now. “Sorry for what?”

“For the experiment. The pranks. Joshua. The twitter account.”

Y/N blinks at him because she’s not sure what else to do. “Experiment?”

“It all started as a psych experiment - conformity on social media. But it got out of control… and that sounds really stupid when I say it out loud.” Seokmin rubs the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, it does,” Y/N murmured. She looks around the pristine exam room because she can’t really look at him. She’d just started to feel better from all of this, but now she’s learning of a whole other layer to it. Her misery lately is a result of a class assignment made of questionable ethics. She’d really like to forget about all of it. “I guess I owe you an apology too. I didn’t mean anything by cutting things off, and I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted more.”

“You didn’t,” Seokmin insists and she looks at him in confusion. “I thought maybe you led me on. I was upset at how things had gone with us. That’s the whole reason I agreed to any of this in the first place. But the longer I think about it, you were pretty honest about how you felt. You shouldn’t have to apologize because I got my hopes up.”

“You’re not the only one though. That twitter account kind of makes it seem like it’s a habit of mine.”

“Yeah… that got really out of control. I’m sorry you had to see any of it. But if it makes you feel any better, it was hacked and deleted.” 

Y/N found herself laughing. “Hacked? Who did that?”

Seokmin looks amused. “Let’s just say you have a very talented friend looking out for you. He shut down that dating app because of you too.” Y/N’s eyes widen. 

“Man, you guys were serious about this revenge.” 

She watches Seokmin relax because she’s laughing again and he finally laughs too. “Yeah, like I said. Out of control. I’ve been trying to convince them to apologize. I think Mingyu, Jihoon, and Seungkwan will come around… I’m not sure about Joshua.”

“Seungkwan? Boo Seungkwan?”

Seokmin nods. “He ran the twitter account.”

“Ah,” Y/N sighs. “Well, you might be right about Joshua. He’s interning here too, and that’s going about as well as you would expect.”

“Total avoidance, huh?” When Y/N raises an eyebrow, he shakes his head. “We haven’t seen or heard much from him either.”

Junhui’s hovering outside of the door with a pack of cookies and a loud crunch gives him away. It makes Y/N laugh. “You can come back in. I’m leaving for real this time.” 

A couple hours later, she waves to Seokmin and Junhui as she leaves. It’s kind of a relief to know that someone involved feels a little bad, but she thinks he’s probably wrong. She won’t be getting an apology from any of the others. 

“You want me to do what?” Wonwoo asks. He thinks he’s heard the request wrong and he’s confused. 

“Bring the twitter account back,” Seungkwan requests again. 

Wonwoo sighs and nods. “Ah, that’s what I thought you said. Two questions, are you stupid and do you know what the word ‘deleted’ means?”

Seungkwan is totally unfazed by the insult. “It’s for another project. You can’t restore it?”

Wonwoo can’t help but glance around the table. The whole crew is back together and he was kind of hoping that would never happen again. It had been a disaster last semester. He finally pins Mingyu with a look. “I told you that you guys would not get a technical method to do this again.” 

“It’s not what you think. We probably should have led with that,” Mingyu puts his hands up in defense. 

“Then what is it? I deleted it for a reason. Nothing on there should have seen the light of day, especially near the end,” Wonwoo says impatiently. He wants nothing more than to be rid of these little requests because he doesn’t trust any of them as far as he can throw them. 

“We need the reach to issue an apology,” Jihoon says simply. “We can’t do that with a brand new account.”

“An apology?” Wonwoo’s laugh gets caught in his throat because he never thought he’d hear something like this considering how evil they were last semester. “This should be good. Tell me more.”

“We’ve been talking,” Seokmin started. “We got carried away and we’d like to reel this back in if we can.”

“There’s not a lot of reeling back in you can do,” Wonwoo scoffs. “The damage is done. Now you guys get to feel guilty about it.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’d like to issue an apology,” Mingyu says. “So can you restore it or not?”

“No! The warning message says ‘permanently deleted’ for a reason.” Wonwoo lies through his teeth. He’s not going to tell him he didn’t hit delete. Instead, he’d changed the email attached to the account and hit ‘deactivate’. “Besides, an in-person apology will probably go much farther. If you’re apologizing to the person I think you’re apologizing to, she doesn’t even have a twitter account anymore to see it.” 

“I don’t think she’d want to see us,” Jihoon huffed. “Which is fair, I guess.”

Seokmin shrugs. “I don’t know, she wasn’t mean to me or anything when I was in the ER last week.”

Joshua has been silent the whole time. Wonwoo’s not sure why he’s even here because he might have been the cruelest of them all and hadn’t seemed to regret any of it. Wonwoo stares him down. “Are you part of this apology too?” He watches Joshua hesitate for a moment, then nod. 

Wonwoo purses his lips. “I can’t promise anything. They might really mean ‘permanently deleted’ when they say it.” He lies through his teeth again. He needs some time to think about it before he hands the account back to any of them. He glares at Seungkwan. “But I’ll be doing some major clean up if I can actually restore it.”

Seungkwan nods eagerly. “I would have done it anyway, but have at it. You’ll probably be faster at it anyway.”

“Great. But how do we make sure she sees it?” Mingyu asks. 

Something catches Joshua’s eye and suddenly he’s jumping out of his seat. 

If Joshua had to describe Seungcheol and Jeonghan in one word, he would say overprotective. He got that vibe at the dinner and movie triple date he met them at. He’s definitely getting that vibe now. In fact, he thinks they might leap over the table at any of them. Maybe Joshua first though with the dirty looks he’s getting.

Joshua has to talk fast to get them to agree to even sit down with the group at the table. Jeonghan even sets a timer for five minutes passive aggressively. 

They explain everything, starting from the psych experiment, to the dating app, the pranks,, the twitter account, and Joshua. Seungcheol and Jeonghan look totally unimpressed. Joshua gets that because it all sounds so fucking stupid now that they have to explain it.

“And you think an apology will fix this?” Seungcheol asks coldly. 

“We’d like to try,” Mingyu says weakly. He’s been feeling Seungcheol’s wrath for two months now. He doesn’t want to run anymore laps or do anymore pushups. 

“It better be a damn good one then. You know she almost didn’t come back to school?” Seungcheol snapped. 

“Yeah, we heard that,” Jihoon said, glancing at Joshua. “Look, we would approach her if we thought she would hear us out. But we’ve made a mess of this to everyone else that followed that stupid account and we need to correct this with them too.”

“I thought it got deleted?” Jeonghan asks, eyes narrowed. 

“That’s why he’s here,” Mingyu says, pointing to Wonwoo. Wonwoo waves him off with a simple ‘don’t talk to me’. “He’s going to try to recover the account. The problem is that we’d also like her to see it.”

Jeonghan scoffs, a bitter smile on his face. “Yeah, good luck getting her back on there.” 

“That’s what we’d like your help with actually,” Joshua started. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan share a look. The timer goes off on Jeonghan’s phone, but they stay anyway. 

It’s Saturday morning and Y/N is busy hosting a sorority house meeting. The president and vice president have been away at a conference and won’t make it back in time to run the meeting themselves, and as the treasurer the duty falls to her. Her phone has been buzzing in her pocket the whole time and she keeps ignoring it. She’s thinking it’s Jeonghan blowing up her phone because he’s bored, something he likes to do when she’s inconveniently busy. She has no problem making him wait for a bit. 

But it’s becoming apparent that something exciting is happening what with the way all of her sorority sisters will not focus on anything she’s saying. It’s starting to get frustrating and when Y/N can’t take it anymore, she bangs the gavel as a call to order. “Okay, what’s going on? I’m trying to run a meeting here.”

A young sophomore named Ara hesitantly stood up, but she was smiling when she handed over her phone. “You might want to read this, Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t have to skim long before she mumbled, “Meeting adjourned. Have a good day, ladies.”

Did you miss us? Yes - us. 

I started this account a little over two years ago and have always enjoyed interacting with all of you. But if you’ve been a follower for a while, you may have noticed a shift in the tone of this account. You won’t find any evidence of that here now, but… if you know, you know.

That’s because this became a team project last semester. I’ll be honest. It was a revenge plot and as we look back on this plot of ours, we’re embarrassed. We all got carried away, some because of hurt feelings and some because of a desire to run a successful account with a thirst for drama.

So, here it goes. We built a dating app, the one that was posted on here a while back. It was used to make a match with someone that had the same kind of vendetta some of us had against Choi Y/N. 

While we waited for this app to be ready, we began pranking Y/N. At first, we thought it was harmless, but things escalated quickly. (Y/N, we still owe you a new laptop.)

When the dating app was ready, Joshua joined us with the goal of giving Y/N what we perceived to be a taste of her own medicine. We were cruel. Particularly near the end of the semester with our little exposé. 

We owe Choi Y/N an apology. A big one that we’ll probably never convince her that we mean honestly. For the pranks. For Joshua. For the way this account was used. For nearly ruining over 20 years of friendship between her and Yoon Jeonghan on a baseless rumor, and damaging the relationship between her and her twin brother, Choi Seungcheol. 

Y/N, if you’re reading this (and we hope you are), we’d like to start making this up to you. Reach out if you’re interested. 

Seungkwan, Mingyu, Jihoon, Seokmin, and Joshua

[rainyearning]

It was funny how now, all Korain could think about was kissing Davy again. He wanted to taste his lips on his own, he wanted to just be connected in this way for maybe the rest of the day. And he knew he had felt attraction towards the other man before their shared kiss but somehow kept himself from making any move.. Inside of the building he shortly looked around. "Well, I mean, it's just the stairwell." he chuckled shortly, since, well, yeah, this belonged to the few people he shared the building with, his apartment upstairs. "My apartment is nicer." And the younger man was feeling just a bit stupid when he realized that he was being the impatient one, when Davy had kissed him but requested to not be in rush. Oh.

Korain nodded, pulling away. "No rush." He repeated, pushing his hair out of his forehead once more before he actually took the steps to his place, guiding Davy there. This was overall a confusing situation because it was never easy when friends took a risk and did... things. Some friendships ended with a kiss and when Davy suddenly wasn't in rush anymore, Korain got the ugly little feeling that there could be a bit of regret coming from Davy taking a step forward. Entering the apartment, Korain kicked off his shoes and jacket, before a very wet shirt was pulled off too. "So, I can offer you a very hot shower while I look for some clothes for you, or, well, you just get a set of dry clothes?" He turned around, grimacing, at the wet short he held in his hands now. "And I can put our clothes in the washer and dryer."

His  mind's  already  reeling  from  the  kiss  when  Korain  invites  him  inside.  Davy's  brows  raise  in  surprise.  "Oh—"  He  lets  out  a  breathless  laugh  tinged  with  flustered  notes.  "Yeah,  I'd  love  to.  Thank  you."  He  leans  closer  to  kiss  Korain's  cheek.  "And  I  wouldn't  want  to  keep  you  out  here,  risk  catching a cold."  Davy  follows  Korain  into  his  home.  Already  the  warmth  and  shelter  from  the  rain  is  welcoming  and  comforting.  "Your  place  is  nice—"  His  words  cut  off  when  Davy's  pulled  in  closer  for  a  kiss.  His  lips  curve  into  a  smile.  As  the  kiss  deepens  slowly,  Davy  rests  a  hand  on  Korain's  waist.  There's  a  gentle  squeeze  as  Davy  draws  Korain  nearer.  "I  can  wait  long  as  you  want,"  he  murmurs  before  pressing  another  kiss  to  the  corner  of  Korain's  mouth.  His  thumb  draws  gentle  circles  on  the  man's  hip  bone. "No rush, yeah?"  

[starry-bi-sky]

wolfpack. aka: if not friend, then why friend-shaped?

"Hey-- uh, Danny?" There's an almost imperceptible tremor in Tucker's voice.

Danny doesn't look up from what he's doing, his pencil scritching across his notebook as he tries to do another quadratic formula question. "Hm."

"What's -- uh -- what's with the dogs?"

He looks up now, and finally sees where Tucker is -- standing in the doorway of his room with an ashy look on his face and a skewed, nervous smile. He's got a white knuckle grip on the doorknob. Sam is wide-eyed behind him, and using him as a partial meat-shield.

Danny looks down to the two giant ghost wolves sprawled next to him lazily. One large green one with his head in Danny's lap, letting him use him as a prop-up for his notebook. Another equally large black one splayed against his hip, sleeping on her side with her head tilted inward to his calf.

Automatically, a grin tilts across Danny's face, and he lifts his notebook up to scratch behind the green one's ears. He opens a lazy eye, one that is bloody red with a ring of yellow around the pupil, before slipping it shut and leaning his head into Danny's touch. "This is Sirius and Procyon," he says, and reaches down to scratch Sirius' belly. "And they're not dogs, they're wolves."

"Great," Tucker says, his voice suddenly much smaller and faint, "Love that distinction."

Sirius makes a great big groan, and Danny's grin widens, his heart swelling with fondness. His hand slips away from her belly, and before he can put his notebook back down, Procyon pushes his head up his lap until his ear is against his stomach, demanding pets now too.

Sam peeks her head up from over Tucker's shoulder, "I think what Tucker's asking here is what are they doing here, Danny."

He shrugs, scratching under Procyon's chin. "They kinda just showed up. I tried sending them back to the Zone, but they keep returning." And they were weirdly intent on just following him around, which is the only reason he gave up on returning them. They weren't causing trouble, and they knew how to hide around the living. Plus, he just loves dogs. "So now I have two wolves living with me."

This, oddly enough, did not do anything to calm Sam and Tucker down. Tucker's mouth purses into a thin line, and he presses the sides of his palms to his lips in prayer. "How have your parents not found out about this?"

Danny wordlessly raises his hand, and his sleeve slides down to reveal a thin chain bracelet hooked around his wrist. He whistles sharply, and both Procyon and Sirius jerk their heads up to look at him, ears pricked up and eyes alert.

Silently, he points to his wrist and rattles it twice, and in unison both wolves stand up and pounce. Instantly, they turn into a respective, opaque black and green mist that swirls around the bracelet and forms into two, flat wolf charms.

Both wolves are posing in the stereotypical wolf howl, with little stars indented on the sides. Procyon's charm has the Canis Minor constellation engraved on it, while Sirius has the Canis Major.

Danny faces Sam and Tucker, and points at his wrist. "Like this."

[ghurab-alzilal]

🐍Sssssnakes sucksssss🐍

• Li'l Gotham #6 (2012)

Yesterday I was thinking about that Damian animal lover lore and I remembered that, despite practically having a zoo at home, Damian doesn't like snakes and well, that's it, I just wanted to share this curious fact with you in case you didn't know.

[dare-g]

A Screaming Skull Crashes the Party on Grave Mood Rings (2024)

[sysig]

But would you tho (Patreon)

[quietwingsinthesky]

btw funniest option for reverseverse archangel siblings is that lucifer & michael are the twowith the dead mom killed by a demon, and gabriel and raphael are accidents that happened along the way that chuck kidnapped

[beeapocalypse]

haunted once more by a dumb character idea