#yeah I guess it’s depression but that would be too easy

[dasloddl]

.

[moongothic]

The idea of my work getting scraped for AI garbage is nasty but I do have to remind myself that my work is mediocre anime shit at best that nobody in their right mind would want to recreate/copy so that's slightly comforting lmao

And Glazing the shit out of my work to poison those data sets would be quite fun too ngl

(But yeah the most frustrating part would be knowing that even if I started Glazing anything new I posted, even if I deleted all my old work, every single reblog would still exist and be out of my control)

[oblique-lane]

Spy tf2 and his identity

Character analysis (or at least my vision on him, if you believe my reasoning)

What do we know about Spy? He's a disguise mastermind. He can pretend to be anyone in order to infiltrate into the scene to do his job - quite literally, stab people on the back. But when he's not in the battle, what is he to his teammates? A suave Frenchman, a gentleman with taste, somewhat a leader.

At least, that's the persona he prefers to show. But is he really..?

What if I tell you that this person never drops his disguise?

For a man who always wears a mask and who's identity being secret is a sacred part of his role in this job, isn't this persona too much to show if it is real? Frenchman, rich, ladykiller... Wouldn't it be too easy to decipher his identity with so much clues provided? Wouldn't it be dangerous?

While Miss Pauling and the Administrator definitely know Spy's real identity, hiding it is a major thing for whatever reason. One could assume it might be because of Scout (obvious guess) but I doubt he's a sole reason. Spy very much enjoys being the Spy all by himself. Do what's the deal?

Let's start from the beginning.

Why did Spy join Mann Co. in the first place?

Let's take this assumption as a fact: people come here out of desperation. They are professionals in their field, yet in their past/casual life there is a pattern of them having difficulties that push them into joining this service. I don't see why Spy would be an exception.

The reason for joining is usually money. Some people question why Spy, a wealthy man from higher society, would join Mann Co. if he has it all already.

Well, probably because he really does not.

Have you ever met an aristocrat? Wealthy people don't get so protective about their expensive suits, they can afford cleaning or a new one. Regardless, rich people don't usually get stingy about material goods, especially if they're mass produced.

At least, not those who were born into wealth.

Spy's defensiveness about his "wealthy stuff", his pomp-ness, disgust and arrogance towards "plebs" gives off a man who knows what it means to live in poverty and who doesn't want to be associated with it ever again.

(Not even talking about his own filthy habits such as not washing his mask and pissing on walls? Jesus Christ)

Dare I even guess that he might be not French at all? His French is so broken. (Although, so is Medic's German, but at least he uses his language much more frequently and in more complex sentences, while Spy only uses French to say some basic expressions, occasionally confusing them with other languages). Definitely not a native.

If anything, he's not giving "rich man" at all, he's giving con man. And that fits my picture perfectly.

So, poor upbringing. How old is Spy? If he's Scout's father (and he was young when he was conceived), I'd say he's no less than 20 years older than him. I'd give him a few more years actually. So, approximately Spy is around 50 at the events of the game (1968-1972). Let's assume he was born somewhere in the 1910s.

Even if he's not French, I still agree that he's probably European. Hmm, what was happening in Europe at the time Spy was a kid?

Oh yeah. The Great Depression.

See my picture: imagine, a child from a lower class family during the Great Depression, his parents were most likely to not take good care about him (both because of the economical situation AND as an echo to Spy's struggles with his own fatherhood). He has to run away from home early and start to make money. Any way possible.

Unavoidably, it leads to crime.

Petty theft, blackmail, scams. Changing identities. Selling low quality products and services. Changing identities again. When older, seducing rich women to stay at their homes overnight, be fed and supported. Running away from the police. Walking into a trap of the mafia, and then joining them as their goon.

In this nightmare of a life he just had to keep pretending to be someone else, someone better and stronger, in order to his ego to not completely shutter. He had to imagine he was an invincible mastermind trickster of some sort, not just a poor boo-hoo victim of poverty who has never knew normal life and care.

And if you pretend for long enough, you become your role eventually... Right?

His true self was long lost forgotten under many layers of new identities. Worse, his true self was never known. And he didn't want it to be known in its ugly and disgusting vulnerability. Narcissism became his lifeline.

It's so much better to be Spy. To be rich and elegant and respected. His ego rebuilt.

[petew21-blog]

Revenge possession, part 2

"So what is this game called again?" I asked out loud with Devon's voice.

Devon in the back of our mind:"Dead by daylight. You play either as a survivor or the killer. Depending on the role you have to escape or kill all the survivors."

I chuckled a bit:"You don't see how that's ironic?"

Devon was silent. "I'm so sorry, man. Jesus, I didn't think this through. Haha. Well... you should be good in this game right?"

Me:"Not really. I kinda didn't even know I was being hunted. Your parents just picked me up and then tortured me in the woods. I didn't have much of a chance to even run."

Devon:"Oh... I'm so sorry for that, man. My parents are horrible people."

Me:"Yeah. And I know they killed much more people than just me. That's why it needs to stop"

Devon:"So are you sure that killing them would be the best revenge for all these years of their murder spree?"

Me:"What else can I do? It's not like I had much of a choice. Few days ago I didn't even have a body. Now I co-share yours. Yeah, stealing their sons body is good revenge too, but you're a good person. And I don't want to take over your life."

Devon:"Not what I was aiming for. I honestly love having you here with me. You're like a second voice/brother/best friend inside of me. Oh shit. I just figured. I keep calling you bro. What's your real name?"

Me:"Paul. Took you long to ask, man. Not cool"

Devon:"Sorry, haha. So... Paul. You're like 40 now, right?"

Me:"I would be if your parents didn't kill me. But I died when I was 21 like you are now. So my mind basically stayed 21 I suppose. Except for roaming the country I didn't have much fun through all these years. These past few days as you, just chilling here, playing video games, jerking off and talking to you is the most fun I had over these 20 years."

Devon took control over his body to let go of the controler and to flex his biceps. The sweat hitting his nose.

Me:"What are you doing? I thought we were gonna play?"

Devon:"Nah, just reminding you what body you're in"

Devon:"Look at me man. I have beautiful abs, massive arms. These thighs could crush a melon between them. I appreciate that you picked me and that you like my body, but you gotta do something about this. We gotta go have fun. With another living being."

Me:"Devon... I really am happy how you treat me in your body, but... I don't think we have the same type of dating pool"

Devon:"I don't care whoever you fuck. I'm straight, or atleast I think I am, but very accepting. And if my man inside of me wants to fuck some handsome man, I will be more than happy to help you out. Bros gotta help each other"

Me:"But it's gonna be your body, man."

Devon:"So? You could do much worse with my body and you didn't. Getting fucked or fucking someone in the ass is not so bad."

Me:"Ok? So what place do you suggest?"

Devon:"Gym. We can show everyone what this body can do. Lot of people observe me there, so you can pick whoever you desire"

We arrived to the gym. So many hot and sexy people in sight. Devon took control to do his normal routine. It sucks that I could also have a body like this, but back in the day I wanted to see the world. I wanted to be myself in a world that hates my kind. Twenty years later, the world is so much more accepting. It's not ideal, but wow. How things gave changed

I still can't believe that Devon let's me stay in his body. I mean, look at him. He could be anything, have anyone. And yet this hot piece of meat is depressed with his easy life, being alone most of the time. I guess that's what happens when your serial killer parents move your family every now and then. You don't have any friends and those that you did might already be dead by their hand. How horrible... I honestly can't wait to see them. To look them in their face. With their son's face and to kill them. I hope Devon will forgive me. I know he says he wants to stop them, but it's his parents. I just have to make sure that he will not stop me when the time comes

Devon was just finishing up, when a cute twink approached us.

The guy:"Hey, I hope you don't mind that I was watching you"

Devon:"Nah, it's ok man. You need a hand with lifting?"

The guy smiled. "Oh I do need a hand, I just don't know If I asked the right person"

Devon sat down, looking all confused:"That depends if..."

I stopped Devon mid sentence. "I think that's a cue for me to take over, ok?"

Devon now in the back of my mind:"Sorry man, I usually don't respond to guys hitting on me. Go on. Have fun"

I smiled at the guy and casually finished the sentence

We headed to the showers. The owners must be probably sick with all these guys hooking up here. But we didn't care. We made out passionately. The twins was all over my muscles, as I would be in his place too. He was a bit smaller. That gave me a sense of dominating him.

I stopped and smiled at the guy. "I... just gotta let you know that I am a virgin"

Devon:"What!!! Dude, you never had sex with anyone?"

The guy looked at me from top to bottom. "You? If good looking people like you are virgins, then I have no idea how world works."

I chuckled nervously. It was true. I was 21 when I died, but back then it was much harder to date a find gay guy. Now you can just download Grindr and in a few minutes you got yourself a guy in your bedroom

Twink:"Well in that case we can go to your place and have some fun there. This isn't a very nice place to have your first time, don't you think"

I just smiled and nodded in approval

We were now in Devon's messy room. The guy was really shocked to see such a straight man cave, but didn't say a word. We made out. He took off my shirt soaked in sweat from gym. His lips now kissed my neck and went to over my pecs, down the middle to my waist band. He took my hard dick into his hand, squeezed hard and looked me deep into my eyes. His look was so full of lust, yet I could tell it was superficial. This guy isn't looking for romance. He just wants to be fucked hard. So let's give it to him

I took a bit of control of the moment. I grabbed him by the neck. Turned him around and pressed him against the wall. He was now moaning in pleasure as I was rubbing my hard dick hidden beneath the layers of my clothes against his ass. I was still holding him, choking him.

I pulled of my shorts and his just low enough to get my dick in there. I wanted to push it right in there. As hard as I could

Devon suddenly screamed out from the back of his mind:"Condom dude!!!"

I left the guy, moanjng against the wall, reaching out to the condom on the shelf. I was struggling to find which side to pick to put it on my dick

Twink:"Wait. Let me" it was obvious he jas done it a few times. The condor was on in a matters of seconds. "Do you have any lube?"

Devon intervened again:"Top drawer. Give him more attention, man. You're making it all about yourself"

"Shut up" I said out loud as a response to Devon, but the guy looked confused. "Oh sorry, not you. I'm just nervous. I have lube right here."

The guy went on Devon's bed on his back. His clothes were now gone and his ass was welcoming my dick. His legs wide open.

I pressed lightly my dick with a ridiculous ammount of lube on top.

It went smoothly so I tried to went all the way. This seemed to hurt the twins. "Hold your horses. I'm good, but not that good. A bit slower, cowboy."

I went in slowly. The pleasure got to Devon too. The way this guys ass was tight around the head of our dick was sending our minds to heaven.

I picked up the pace. The twink was moaning in pleasure and in pain at the same time. I grabbed him by the next to choke him. My other arm pressing his thigh.

Twink:"Harder!" I thought I was going as hard as possible, but I didn't think he could take it much more

Twink:"Harder!!!"

Devon:"Oh, jesus. Let me do it" Devon took over. I was in the back of our mind again. Still feeling everything.

Devon was like a beast, but the twink was really enjoying it.

I could feel all the cum building up. Ooh there's gonna be tons of cum.

Devon was biting his lower líp and furiously pounding this guy's ass. Sure, "Straight" my ass.

Devon:"I'm cumming!!!"

Twink:"Fill me! I want it all"

Devon shot out the stream of cum into the condom. The wave of pleasure was so overwhelming. So much, that I lost control for a moment. I didn't know what was happening.

I opened my eyes. Still as Devon. Good. But I was back in control. But I was alone here. I couldn't feel Devon

"DEVON?!?"

Twink:"Right here. You pushed my soul out of my body, dude. If the guy here wasn't as welcoming you would have me erased or something"

Me:"I'm so sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

Devon:"It's fine. This guy's soul is asleep or maybe gone? I don't know. But I can't hear him now. Dude! I could feel my body's orgasm and his orgasm at the same time. I can assure you, that this is definitely the best I'll ever feel. So overwhelming."

Me:"Shit, dude. We gotta figure out how to get you put of there. Or you might be stuck"

Devon:"What if we wait for a bit? I kinda wanna try having sex with my body."

Me:"Kinky. You wanna get pounded too?"

Devon:"Guess I'm not so straight anymore, right?"

After our first fucking session, Devon passed out from all the sex. We still didn't know where this guy's soul was, but we would figure that out soon. I was just happy that I was finally alive. And I even have a boyfriend now? If that's what I can call Devon. Not to put labels on our relationship or anything

I grabbed the first pair of shorts from the floor I could find. Still sweaty from the sex, I headed to the kitchen to get myself a drink of water.

I was interrupted by a dark figure in the corner of the room

"Hello, son"

I was full of rage. But I can't fuck it up now. If I kill him, I won't know where his mom is and that would take me another decade to find her.

"Hey, dad. How was your holiday"

"Oh wonderful. Rome is your mother's favourite place to visit"

I tried to act as much as possible. Devon was in his room in a wrong body, so that wouldn't help me.

"Did you go to Colosseum this time?"

"Oh, we sure did." The father responded. But in the matter of seconds his expression changed. He was now holding a gun pointed at me

"What are you doing, dad?!"

"Devon knows we went to Bahamas"

Fuck. So he knew all along that I'm not Devon. But how?

"Me and my wife found out that the folk like you, who want to have your revenge for what we did, come back as ghosts to make our lives a living hell."

"So I'm not the first one?"

"Hahaha. Of course you're not. The first one came when Devon was 2 years old. Of course he doesn't remember, but that was a nasty one. All the paranormal stuff. We didn't know what we were dealing with back then. But now, oh we are used to deal with you. But possessing Devon is a first. Some possessed us and tried to kill us, but obviously failed."

"How can you tell that I'm not him? Besides the question."

"Oh it's an aura thing. Once you have the experience and a good guidance, you can just tell when a soul isn't in their rightful place."

"Now, tell me. Did Devon put up a lot of fight? Your answer will change the course of your torture."

"Devon is ok. He's in the body of the guy downstairs. It was an accident"

"Sure it was. That would make sure that we couldn't kill you or him, right? We're not so stupid, mister. Although I will not enjoy killing my son, there is no other choice."

"If you kill me, I will go after you even more. I have for the past 20 years and I will even after you die. My soul will not rest until you burn in hell"

"Sure you can do that, but it will take you some time to get out of this thing."

He was holding a wooden object with symbols

"What is that thing?"

"That mister, is your prison. It will bind you inside, until it breaks, or someone opens it on purpose. Which happens rarely if you ask me."

"You're doing a big mistake. Devon is in his room in a different body. Let him atleast get his body back."

"I can't take that chance. Me and my wife have a life to live up to and we won't stop just because our son got himself in some trouble and can't handle it."

"It's your son! You would kill him just so you can continue your killing spree?"

"Oh, definitely. Having a child is a great thing, but taking a life. That's something you won't ever forget about. The control it gives you."

"You're sick. No parent would ever do this to their child"

From the hallway a second voice spoke:"Oh these two are a chatty couple, right honey? So chatty chatty. But we need to hurry up, so get on with this" the mother said towards her husband

I could feel a horrible pain in my chest. Feelings very similar to the ones I felt 20 years ago. This couple was killing me again

"Sorry Devon. We couldn't have done anything" father said

"Devon hates you too!" I screamed out

"You're talking too much" and then nothing.

I don't know for how long this continued. I don't even know what they did with Devon's beautiful body. How they got rid of it.

Soon I started to feel walls around me. Walls? As a ghost I wouldn't be able to. Except if this is their prison that they were talking about.

I opened my eyes. There was only darkness. Nothing else. I looked around and on the other side of my prison was someone sitting, crying.

I got up to approach this person. He looked up

It was Devon. He was crying

"Paul! They killed me. My own mother slit my throat. I told her it's me. But she just killed me and trapped me into thus thing."

"I'm so so sorry, Devon. I never wanted any of this. I wanted revenge for them. But they were ready. They knew. Your father didn't listen to me too. He didn't care. I told him about your soul. But they are more sadistic then I thought"

"Paul, I'm dead. My parents killed me. My OWN PARENTS!"

"Devon, they are horrible people. And we will get our lives back. Maybe not our old lives, but we will. But first we have to get out of here. We're gonna get through this together. Ok?"

Devon collapsed into my arms. I was just glad that I could hold someone even if I was a ghost now. We were gonna get out of here, but I had no idea how

Outside of the ghost trap, the world went by.

Devon's father held the trap tightly as he watched his old house burn. His wife held her head on his shoulder.

"Ahhh, I think I might miss Devon. He gave our life some order"

"He limited us. We couldn't ve ourselves all the time. Now we can. What do you say we go pick up some hitchhiker?"

"Ohhhh, that's a lovely idea. Get rid of that box, it gives me the creeps"

And as the two of them were laughing while leaving, the box was sinking deeply into the river below the bridge until some human would find it.

If Paul and Devon would know what was happening to then right now, they would be devastated.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Could you write a hero who's broke af but is at the villians mansion taking care of them and despite being broke af they get every medicine every grocery villian requires and villian just breaks? Also, vil calls hero 'love'

The villain was where the hero had left them - on the couch, staring at the black screen of their TV.

"Did you know — this will blow your mind — that you can actually turn that thing on?" When the villain turned their head to look at them, the hero pointed at the hilariously large screen. "Or so I've been told."

"Is that so?" The villain's attention came back to the screen and the hero couldn't help but wonder if the villain's misery was growing from day to day.

The hero knew their nemesis loved to be active. They loved exercising, they loved causing trouble.

But ever since the house arrest and the ankle monitor was put on them, they had acted nearly depressed. If the hero hadn’t known them, they would have guessed it was due to their injuries.

A very messed up clavicle and a horribly cracked ankle were just two components of the entire cruel picture of bruises. According to the city, the hero was "the only person strong enough to detain" the villain.

Which didn't really bother the hero as much as the media wanted the public to believe. Hell, there were even petitions for people to sign to "protect" the hero from this incredibly dangerous mission that felt more like a vacation than anything to the hero themselves.

"You look tired," the hero said. "Would you like to take a nap?"

They left the groceries in the dining room and walked up to the couch but the villain was silent. Their eyes were still staring at the dark reflection of themselves. Without hesitation, the hero sat down next to them and debated if they should try to put their hand on the villain's thigh to comfort them.

Against their better judgment, they decided not to.

"You've been looking at that TV for like…30 minutes?" the hero said instead. "Have you eaten the breakfast I made for you?"

They hadn't. The hero had checked - but it didn't seem to matter. The villain didn't say anything.

"Look, I understand this isn't what you wanted. But I am trying to take care of you as best as I can. If you have any problems with your shoulder or if there's something else..."

Suddenly, the villain turned their head and looked at the hero. Under their eyes, the spreading dark circles were a little too visible to the hero.

"I..." The villain sounded absolutely exhausted. "I had this nightmare again."

"The one with me?"

"Yeah, but it was different, it's...ah, forget about it, love. It's stupid," the villain said. They leaned back against the pillows of the couch and closed their eyes as if they were concentrating on something.

However, the hero did notice the soft blush on their cheeks.

"That's for me to determine."

"It's really stupid." The villain looked at them again and when the hero looked into their eyes, they were sure they would have missed the villain's next words. Almost embarrassed, they stared at their own hands. Getting lost in the villain's eyes came a little too easy to them. It wasn't like the hero wanted or provoked it. It just happened. And there was nothing they could do about it.

After all, this was their job. They were getting paid to be here, even though it left them with a really bad aftertaste. Somewhere deep down, they wished they could have done this without receiving payment in the first place. For the sake of compassion.

"Stupid is okay," the hero said. "I think talking about it could help, I think...I think you carry a lot of stuff around and never got to share it with anyone. That's why it is gnawing on you. Especially now that you're injured and rely on someone else."

"You're my enemy, so I shouldn't tell you in the first place," the villain argued.

"Your dream was about me, so technically-" the hero raised an index finger "-I have the right to know about it."

The villain narrowed their eyes. "That's not how it works, love."

If the villain didn't want to talk, the hero supposed they couldn't make them. Obviously, they were familiar with a lot of interrogation techniques but the villain was neither a suspect nor a threat at the moment. The hero sighed softly.

Work occupied their own mind to a nearly worrying degree. Money was a big issue, big enough to give them troubles with falling asleep at night. They guessed that was their own little package to carry around.

But they didn't think it was comparable to the villain's. What they had read in the reports about their childhood...eventually, the hero had stopped reading because it was too painful to even grasp.

"I, uh...got you some stuff. Some medicine, some cookies. Nothing big, really."

The villain's eyes widened.

"Did you pay with the cash I put on the table for you?"

"No, I used my credit card," the hero said. "Wait, just let me..."

They stood up, grabbed the grocery bag and sat down on the carpet of the living room, right in front of the villain. They unpacked every single item carefully and explained how heroically they had fought for the last box of chocolates (which wasn't nearly as dramatic as they framed it to be) or how they nearly died of a heart attack when their card got declined the first time (they merely sweated a little bit more).

"You bought all of this for me?" The villain stared at the chocolates, the painkillers. It seemed like their fingers were shaking a little.

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you shared."

And then, finally, the villain smiled gently.

"You're so stupid." Before the hero knew it, their enemy's fingers pushed hair out of the hero's vision. "You should have used the cash, love."

The hero stared up at them, one of their arms still in the sling, the other still hovering there, their fingers brushing the hero's jawline.

"I wanted to buy this for you. With my own money," the hero said. No. They admitted it. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to make you a little happier."

"I'm not unhappy here with you," the villain said. "You don't make me unhappy. This dream was just a lot and my shoulder really fucking hurts. That's all."

They pulled away and suddenly, the hero felt a little colder. Once again, they feared this wasn't all there was to it.

But it also wasn't their place to poke around.

"Tell me if there is anything I can do for you, though. Okay?"

"I will," the villain said. The hero stood up, not entirely sure if they were actually helpful. They were good at tending wounds but the villain had problems with asking for help. They were good at cooking but the villain didn't seem to have any appetite. They took in a deep breath and before they could reach for the groceries, the villain grabbed their hand. "Okay, I...I kissed you in my dream."

The hero's eyebrows jumped up. "Oh?"

"And it's scaring me. I can't afford those feelings. I can't...I shouldn't want you."

"Shouldn't?"

"I shouldn't." The villain let go and stood up. They cleared their throat. "Eh...do you need help with the groceries?"

And that was the end of that conversation.

For now.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

‘Cause you are mine

Warning ⚠️; slight smut, Tony being his own warning (alcoholism, suicidal, depression.) Alcohol, blood, fluff 🔞

Pairing; Yandere!Tony Stark/Male!Reader

Summary; Tony can't take it any longer. He doesn't feel appreciated by his friends, feels like a burden to them and that the whole world is against him. That is until he meets you. You shine as bright as the sun and he is Icarus flying too close. But you are the one whose wings burn and melt.

Note; Tony is my Pookie, so be ready to have a lot of stories about him. And again, sorry for the mountain that is this story. ⛰️ And I was hungry for some Yandere Tony

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gala was boring as always and you wondered how long it would take for something interesting to happen. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for someone to catch your attention. Your gaze fell on Tony Stark. The man was alone in a corner, sipping at his drink. The hero seemed lonely, lost and somewhat sad.

Tony Stark, a man who had done so much for the world without ever being thanked. What a sad fate. Trying your best but people keep bringing back your mistakes.

Finishing your own drink, you left the empty glass on the bar before walking up toward the genius. Tony didn't even turn to you before asking you to leave. His voice was low, a dim whisper as if he didn't want to be heard.

- “Why? This Gala is so boring and you are the only interesting person around.” You said, grabbing a drink as a server passed. “I've been impressed with your latest work in medical engineering. That going to help our surgeons save more lives.”

Tony eyed you, suspicious of your intentions and you understood why. So many people only saw him as Iron Man or a drunk, not as another human with feelings. But Stark was so much more. He was a genius and his mind worked like no one else. You wondered why people thought so little of him after everything he had been through and did for others.

You raised your hands, showing you weren't a threat.

- “Hey, easy. I ain't trying to suck your dick, just talking about your latest achievement. Not everyone look at you and see Iron Man.”

You chuckled as Tony rolled his eyes and swallowed his drink in one go.

- “No one ever hears me talk about all that, they all want to speak to Iron Man, curse me or want something from me. So yeah, let me doubt you here princess.” There is an edge to Stark’s voice and you easily see it for what it is; a way to protect himself.

- “Well then, I guess I will have to prove myself to you, won't I?” You replied, getting a smirk from Tony.

And its the best thing you ever did.

For the rest of the gala you both stayed in your corner drinking glass after glass and talking about everything and anything Tony created and made in recent years. You don't understand everything, so you ask question after question just to see some light and passion appear in Tony’s eyes.

Neither of you saw the time pass until you were among the last ones standing. Barely. Drunk the both of you, you had to support each other just to walk outside while jiggling like two idiots as you tried to pronounce some scientific word and Tony tried to help you.

You expected to go your separate way, not thinking Tony would want to spend more time with you. After all, you were both wasted and morning promised to come with one hell of a hangover. But to your surprise and joy, the genius almost forced you into his car.

Tony’s mansion is all you imagined. Enormous, luxurious and extravagant just like its owner, you didn't expected to feel so empty and lifeless. Even wasted you wonder if his home reflect Tony’s entirely. Does inside he also feel that way?

You two crash somewhere in what you can only call a mix between a living room and a bar. Tony, who's the most sober between you, got in his head to pour more drink and you can't refuse. Sitting almost on each other lap the conversation continued with you asking questions and Tony explaining everything, even getting his hand on his tablet to give you a visual.

Before the first light of morning comes Tony and you already finished a full bottle and a half. The conversation isn't clear and it is mostly you two giggling as you struggle to pronounce any complicated words. Stark isn't better. Head resting in the crook of your shoulder, one leg across your lap, the genius looks somehow happy and content in his drunken state. You got your arms around him, making sure he doesn't fall and hurt himself.

But when the sun finally rose and filled the room with golden light, there was only a comfortable silence between you and Tony. Your head resting on top of his, your hand grabbing one of his arms as your thumb drew circles on his skin you both felt content. There is no sleepiness, no need to pass out, just the desire to keep the moment going and hoping it'll never stop.

But of course, every good thing must come to an end.

At first, you heard footsteps coming closer as you were slowly drifting to sleep. In your arms, you felt Tony move, which woke you up fully. Then the door opened as a woman talked. Mind still in the mist, you didn't really understand what she was saying other than she was going to show you out.

- “He isn't going anywhere, Pepper. My new friend is staying right there with me.” Tony said, his voice so close to your ear that you shivered.

- “Tony, you got meetings today and they are important so up and get ready.”

You grunted and groaned, barely listening to the two bickering. Your arm stayed around Tony’s waist, making sure he didn't fall down as he trashed around, arguing with the named Pepper.

- “It's fine Tony. You are a busy man with a lot on your shoulders and I don't want to steal more of your time. We had a lot of fun last night and I hope we can do that again, but for now, your duties await you.” You said, petting his back and you turned your head to look at Pepper. “Alright miss. Show the way, but slowly please.”

Pepper looked at you and nodded as you got up. Tony wasn't happy about it, but you ignored him, not wanting to cause Tony more problems. You followed Pepper, head heavy and feeling like you would never drink again when you felt someone grab your hand. Before you could utter a word, you were forced to run as Tony pulled you behind him.

You heard Pepper screaming Tony's name while the genius just laughed. Lost, you followed the genius. Tony took you down in his workshop and lab. He showed you around, smiling proudly as you admired everything, wondering how a single man could do and create such incredible things.

Having prevented Pepper from following, Tony relaxed and told you he didn't want to leave. Not anytime soon. It both surprised and worried you. Why was your new friend so determined to keep you close? Was he that lonely?

In the following days, Stark was everywhere with you. If you had to go somewhere, he accompanied you and even drove you around. You didn't have a second of peace and yet it only felt normal, natural. Tony fitted perfectly in your life like the piece you didn't know you were missing.

If you weren't sleeping at his place, Tony would join you at yours or you would stop at a hotel or motel. You could tell his friends, especially Pepper were getting tired of it. But not you. Having someone's full attention on you was something exciting, especially Tony who wasn’t one to trust easily.

Even after a few weeks, you didn't get bored with it. Every day brought something new in your relationship with Tony. Some of it was a story from Tony’s past, sometimes he took you to his workshop and you worked with him on some project or he opened up about what was going on in his head.

You couldn't remember when was the first night you shared a bed, but it was at Tony’s place after drinking way too much again. The genius was nuzzled against you, your arms wrapped around him when you woke up. Tony was trashing around, sweaty and whimpering. You could immediately tell he was having a nightmare. As gently as you could, you nudged him until he woke up.

Tony jerked awake, hitting you in the chest as he tried to get away. You had to pin him down against the mattress and ask Friday to turn on the light for Tony to calm down. You were shocked by how scared and broken Tony looked and wondered how no one saw it sooner. You passed the rest of the night cuddling and pampering him until he was calm once more.

As time passed you met each member of the Avengers and each time you were disappointed. Not by the fact they were human but by how little they seemed to care about Tony. They never really listened to him or rolled their eyes as he rambled about some scientific things. It was hard for you to appreciate them when they didn't appreciate your dearest friend.

You pointed it out to Tony who simply scoffed.

- “Tell me something I don't know, Princess.” He told you, voice tired and done.

- “Well I don't like them.” You grunted and he laughed.

- “Again, I know that.”

You kept an eye out on Tony and saw how down he often was after each mission or meeting with the team. You took it upon yourself to make him feel better; getting his favourite food and coffee or drinks and he would smile at you, thankful.

It is sooner than later that your relationship evolved from friends to more.

Again, it all happened after you drank way too much and ended up having a passionate night with Tony. When you wake up naked, you feared you had destroyed your friendship, only for Tony to be happy to now be your lover.

Not just your lover but also your boyfriend.

The news quickly found its way into every magazine and soon enough everyone knew Iron Man was seeing someone, a man. You didn't care about being the target of the cameras, as long as Tony was by your side. After all, you had nothing to be ashamed of.

However, you never imagined how possessive and protective Tony would be toward you. To your surprise, Tony hated seeing your names on the news or on magazines and would snap after any journalist trying to talk to you.

You weren't the only one shocked; his whole team and friends didn't recognize him. Tension began to build up between Tony and the rest of the Avengers. You could only feel guilty, thinking you were the cause and yet not understanding what was going on with Tony.

But with you, Tony was gentle and caring, even overloving sometimes. He would ask for forgiveness each time you pointed out how he acted and would forgive him. You couldn't stay angry for long.

But as the tension and conflicts grew, Tony and the Avengers grew apart. Soon enough, Tony announced he was leaving not only the team but also would stop providing funds to them and the S.H.I.L.D. But after tragedy comes happiness and Tony proposed to you.

As happy as you felt being engaged, the ring strangely felt like handcuffs or a leash. In the back of your mind you wondered if you were doing the right thing. But it was too late to back down, and now that Tony wasn't part of the Avengers anymore he was even more often with you. He was always there, even when you thought you were alone.

After all, he could access any and every camera in the country. There was nowhere where he wouldn't find you.

[jjkeremika]

AoT men confess their love for you

i.e., how i think they’d tell you they love you

reader x Eren, Jean, Armin, Reiner, Porco, Erwin, Levi, Zeke, Bertoldt

*unspecified gender reader*

Eren - blurts it out during sex and you can’t convince me otherwise

You and Eren weren’t really dating, per se… more like… hooking up behind your best friend’s back. The fact that Mikasa was his sister and your best friend was enough to keep both your urges at bay for a few months, but when she left for summer camp and he stayed behind, leaving just you two to keep each other company… well… things took on a life of their own.

So for the whole summer you and Eren gallivanted around the districts over, going on unlabelled dates and hiding from those (Armin, Jean) who just might tell Mikasa about the tryst, because maybe telling her was just too fast or too complicated for the easy and noncommittal situationship.

Which felt like exactly that… until you were bouncing on his cock in the back of his car, his mouth attached to your neck and your fingers curled in his hair. He thrusted upwards, evoking a loud moan from you, when Eren suddenly blurted out, “I think I love you,” with a hearty breath, his hips never stuttering as he kept the motion, his mouth compensating for the words by pressing to your neck.

Maybe it was time to call your best friend.

Jean - it slips out and he tries to deflect it but you already knew

You met Jean during volunteer community service, where you and the awkwardly-tall brunette would leisurely walk around the districts and collect litter. The first day everyone was set off in pairs, you two randomly assigned to wander the same district, and you both actively decided to group together every time after that.

Your conversations were rarely of any importance, mostly letting it serve as either a way to pass time or to express feelings and opinions about people the other doesn't know. At first, he talked an awfully lot about some woman who you weren't sure from his stories if she even knew he existed. Over the months of service together, he stopped bringing her up and started talking about this other person of interest instead.

His cheeks and ears turned bright pink whenever you'd ask about how he met this person, usually providing some vague and nondeterministic answer that honestly left you more confused than before. Some stuttered-out answers and a few too-similar-to-your-own interests later, you had a deep suspicion and debated how to delve it out of him.

It wasn't very hard. One week before the holiday break you two were wandering around, discussing future plans with friends and family for the upcoming holiday. "Are you excited for the break?" you asked, nudging his side with your elbow. "Huh?" he responded curiously, "Oh, I... Yeah, I guess." You snorted in response, "Sounds like it. C'mon, the holiday is a time for being with your love ones! Isn't that exciting?"

"But I only see them not on break, during volunteerin--" It was almost like he'd forgotten who he was speaking to, and his entire face erupted in various shades of pinks and reds, maybe even a light purple from the lack of breathing. He was internally kicking himself, berating himself for being so loose and stupid around you, for always struggling to think around you. He was oblivious to the smile on your face. "I, uh, because, I... love volunteering... so much."

Armin - tells you he's in love with you because you've changed his life (he’s poetic without meaning to be)

Armin was unusual from other men you’ve dated. Height aside, he was very in touch with his emotions, intelligent, and capable; but he tormented himself with baseless insecurities and unfounded truths until all of his perks were equally weighed down by his shortcomings. He’d bring himself down until he was impossibly low, until his opinion of himself couldn’t get lower.

He was depressed when you first met, his friends warning you that maybe it was beyond you, that it wasn’t your responsibility anyway. You knew that, of course, but it was Armin, and it’s difficult to watch sunshine be forced behind endless seas of clouds. So you’d remind him as much as possible to be kinder to himself, to speak to himself positively since he’s the only one who he will spend forever with.

It wasn’t a surprise when your relationship advanced; the effort and care you put in him nurtured feelings beyond friendship. The warmth spread inside him like a wildfire from a lit match in dry brush, and he found himself favoring you over any form of logic or reason.

It was a random weekday when he pulled you aside, trying to make time for a brief 5 minute date between lessons. He seemed nervous, which wasn’t necessarily odd, but he’d become significantly more comfortable around you over the years. “I, uh,” he started unsurely, hesitantly, “You mean so much to me. I can't imagine this life without you. I..." He crossed his forearm over his stomach as he anchored his shaky hand on the inside of his other arm's elbow, holding it tightly to stop his body from shaking as he angelically stared into your eyes. "I’m in love with you. And I don’t mean that poetically or sexually or theoretically or logically or figuratively or ideologically or any of that. I mean it literally. I am in love with you.”

Reiner - tried to act like he didn’t care but he was really invested in your response

You had been casually dating around when you first met Reiner, the tall bulky blond with the bordering-arrogant demeanor having approached you at the bar while your date was in the bathroom. He had a confident smirk plastered across his cheeks as he said, “You know, my wallet has been itching to buy the most stunning person in this room a drink, and, well, I think I’ve found them.”

It shouldn’t have worked but you’d had a few drinks already and a new heat burned in your abdomen and he was significantly more attractive than your current date, so you accepted his invitation to buy you a new drink and take the seat. A second first date of the night, completed with a quick fuck in the bathroom and at home.

Your relationship progressed smoothly from then on, with a heavy positive emphasis in the bedroom. And while neither of you ever clarified the relationship and asked if it was official, your eyes and lips and privates were so glued to each other there was no peripheral for any one else. Which was why, while Reiner never explicitly stated how he felt for you aside from daily comments--"My god, baby, you are so sexy,"; "Mmf, you make me feel too fucking good, darlin', fuck,"; "Sexiest person alive, yeah. you already know I'm speaking about you and your smart sexy ass,"--you were never really that worried anyway.

So when you two were laying on your backs in the bed, side-by-side, chest heaving to catch your breaths, and the words slipped from his mouth post-coitus, "Fuck, darlin', I love you," you were shocked, and a, "What did you say?" slipped from your mouth before you could process. He bit the inside of his lip and felt a nervous weightlessness erupt in his stomach. Reiner shrugged and sat upright, blocking his face from your view with his back. "Huh? Didn't hear me?" Reiner asked, forcing his voice to remain confident and steady, and turned to look at you briefly before stirring to stand up. He shrugged, the inside of his cheek rough and chewed up like a dog-toy. "I just said I love you. It's not a... big deal."

Porco - says it like a joke so you aren’t totally sure if he means it

Galliard was your best guy friend, joining you anywhere you didn’t want to go alone and cracking jokes to lighten the mood. He was really good at that, making you laugh, and he couldn’t deny that the sound was like music to his ears, magical notes strung together to create the most beautiful song he’d ever heard.

It was exactly because of how close you two were that both of you feared doing exactly what you wanted the other to do—make the first move. And because it was the other one, every flirty touch or suggestive comments were stripped of all intention, because there’s just no way the best friend would ever be into them too. Instead, it was personally replaced with sarcastic or playful undertones and purposeful reminders of feelings that didn’t exist.

You had convinced him to go to the lake with you, which your friends conveniently bailed on so that it really was just you two. Porco had hopped into your kayak from the dock, taking you by surprise and fearing a capsize. “Porco!” you screamed, giggling, holding onto the edge of the kayak, “What’s wrong with your own kayak? Desperately trying to get close to me?”

You watched the adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed intently, like he was carefully choosing when to breathe and what to say. “Haha, yeah,” he settled on, forcing himself to chuckle lightly, his voice littered with nuanced feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say confidently, “because I’m definitely in love with you…” You noticed Porco’s lack of eye contact, that he was now looking far off into the distance. “Or something like that,” he joked nervously, wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs as he sat down behind you, hoping you couldn’t see through his charade.

Erwin (age gap) - planned it out but everything didn’t go to plan

After six months together, Erwin already knew how strongly he felt towards you. You were everything he could’ve hoped for and everything he’d waited for. He already knew he wanted you as his future spouse (eventually, he knew you weren’t ready to marry). And so he wanted the moment he told you how he felt to be special to you, to be as special as you were to him.

Erwin had your six-month anniversary date planned out to the T: first, a leisurely walk around the park; second, a quick stop at a couple of your favorite shops nearby to browse and buy you a gift (or gifts, really, he’d buy whatever you wanted); third, stop in at the new bistro you’ve been dying to try—“Ooh, Winnie, look, look! We have to go there!”; fourth, walk around and watch the stars until your feet were sore and he could carry you home.

A sudden rainstorm ruined the walk, forcing both of you to run for cover under some trees for quite some time until it passed. Once the rain finally stopped, it was too close to the dinner reservation time to stop in at the shops, and he shuttled you to the bistro. You were both sat next to a loud family with screaming children, barely able to hear the other speak the entire time, staring at each other with morose smiles while munching on mediocre food. The stars hid behind thick dark clouds as you both walked home, and Erwin felt too defeated to ask to carry you because you were finally enjoying that brisk walk.

At your doorstep, when he profusely apologized for ruining your anniversary date—“Ernie, seriously? Stop apologizing! You can’t control the weather! And the restaurant was my idea anyway.” The frown lines on his face deepened and twisted in morose. “No, that’s not…” he sighed, upset that nothing had gone to plan, “I wanted everything to be the perfect night for my perfect person, a wonderful night solely for the one I love…” he added in a whisper, “…and I messed it all up.”

Inviting him felt like the only way to reverse his thoughts, to make him realize that, despite everything he considered so wrong, it was all so correctly wrong to you it may as well have been perfect.

Levi - thinks it should be obvious since he’s still with you

It was about subtlety when dating Levi. At least, that’s what you’d figured out in the year you’ve been together. His face was relatively expressionless, so you’d learned to read his body language, but you honestly worried you’d never be fluent, because you still questioned the presence or validity of his feelings for you on some days.

He said it once, that he felt deeply for you on the day he asked you out. He repeated it on your six-month anniversary, when you asked if he still felt that way and he answered with a monotoned, “Well, yeah. Obviously. I thought it was implied since we’re together and all.”

Your favorite version of him was when he was sleepy, when he was too tired to keep his protective walls up, because he was cuddly and cozy and craved nothing but your presence and warmth and actively showered you with soft kisses.

It was when his guard was down like this that you asked him, on your one-year, if he still felt the same—shielding the fear of his answer by joking that you’ll ask him every six months—and he rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, kissing your cheek, and muttering, “Yes, love, and I’ll give you the same answer six months, six years, and six centuries from now.”

Zeke - writes you a love letter (unlike armin he tries to be poetic)

Zeke was into you well before you even started to reciprocate those feelings. There was something so enigmatic about you, a light airy aura that made him feel buoyant, that unchained him from the burden of his father’s wants and wishes. In his eyes, you saved him.

For a debt he felt he could never repay, he always brought you flowers and sweets and gifts; he wrote long poems detailing that your beauty was beyond all beholders, that you put the sun to shame, that you were the spark to start his supernova; he sent you good morning beautiful and sweet dreams baby texts, hoping you started and ended your day with a smile.

After a couple months of exclusive dating, he wrote you a love letter, expressing the extent of what you meant to him—the burning shape of you etched permanently in his heart—, handing it to you with a deep red stretched across his face and asking you to read it privately, to share it with no one.

My dearest beloved, I write as I know my tongue will fail me, reminiscent of all previous attempts where my lips part and only whimsy air escapes. Remember those moments, my dear? How you'd don a concerned expression and question me in my flustered state. Oh, how futile the intention feels when my spiritual body abandons me, rendering my physical body utterly useless in translation as my stoic invulnerability precedes me. Oh, how I yearn for you the way broken skin stitches itself back together, the way fibers of a wire stretch to hold on, to come together and remain as one. Oh, how you complete me the manner punctuation consummates these phrases, embedding the lines with a flourish no words could elicit. All your self-proclaimed flaws are null to the universe, your soul culminating as the true embodiment of pure perfection with flavorful cracks in the profile, cracks that you've offered to my pitiful soul, pristine ledges to hold on to as humanity crumbles from your grace. Oh, how if what you provide me with is god-like pity, how I want nothing more than for that bliss to fuel my burning heart, to further engulf my being with this feverish love, to only be quenched by your will.

Bertoldt - he’s shy, so his friends tell you for him

Look, really, no offense to Bertoldt, but, well, he never said a word. Which, like, what the hell? You could tell—or rather, you were pretty sure—he was into you by the way he tensed up when you were around, by the longing glances he’d cast your direction when you were nearby.

Holding conversations was difficult in an endearing way, because he was shy—painfully shy—around you, making small comments with a smile and pink cheeks, stuttering out small compliments and avoiding eye contact like he’d crossed a line (honestly you wished he’d crossed more).

You were starting to lose hope after months of talking led to little improvements, him still awkward around you, still not telling you how he really feels, if he likes you in that way. And like, how could you really be sure that he did if his hints were shit?

One day you receive a video message from Reiner, in it depicting Bertoldt and Porco sitting on a leather couch and talking—well, Porco wasn’t. Bertoldt was talking. A lot. About you. Talking about how you make him so nervous he freezes, how he finds you so attractive his body doesn’t know how to react, how he gets goosebumps on his neck at just the sound of your voice, how the secret love he had for you took up so much volume in his throat he couldn’t even speak or breathe near you.

[themeraldee]

Can I get a wholesome little thingy of homie comforting his s/o that's like depressed what would he do? And give them snuggles? And although of course s/o giving homie headpats and caresses are top tier this time I want him to have to give headpats. Not because I'm depressed rn or anything (yes it is)

~1k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Established Relationship. Dealing with depression. Homelander's POV. Fluff. Just fluff really.

Something feels off when Homelander enters his penthouse. While he used to welcome the quiet of his home after he came back from events, this has recently changed. Ever since you’ve become a part of his life, any second spent without you feels like something’s missing. So it’s definitely out of order to get the same empty feeling when he's home. Usually you greet him with open arms or at least a ‘Welcome home’ shouted from another room.

“Babe?” Homelander calls out into the penthouse, the questioning tone reverberating through the open plan of his home. He knows you’re here. His question acts more as a reset, giving you a chance to play your role.

At your lack of response he quickly scans the room, seeing you in the bedroom. Very much awake but hidden under the sheets. So why wouldn’t you react to his presence? Shouldn’t that be something you look forward to?

You always do.

His mind runs at a hundred miles a minute. Even with the overwhelming positive effect you’ve had on his life it’s easy to fall into insecurity and despair, worrying about the worst possible outcome.

Homelander stops himself from rushing into the bedroom. But the slow one step at a time sinks the weight in his gut lower and lower. The anxiety of something being wrong has thrown him off-kilter. He doesn’t really know how to approach you when you’re distant like this.

So his over the top bravado will have to do.

“Heyyyy there sleepy head! You know it’s waaayyy too late for a lie in, don't you think?” He waltzes into the bedroom, hands on his hips, acting as if he was addressing a crowd. His voice is loud and clear, carrying a jovial tone that sounds a little too insincere even to his ears. 

He doubles down anyway. “If I knew you were planning to spend the entire day in bed I would’ve never left.” But, you don’t respond. He can hear your heartbeat, the slight rustle of the sheets and even the thud and glide of your finger scrolling down your phone screen.

When the silence gets too awkward for him to bear he peels the blanket from over your head, revealing you down to your waist. Immediately you squirm at the light coming from the outside after having your den of doom broken into.

Over the time that your love has blossomed into a relationship he’s gotten used to receiving comfort from you. You were there to listen to his countless rants and concerns. From the simple work related complaints to the horrors plaguing his nightmares. 

He should be able to do the same for you, right?

“Hmm… I’m just resting.” You sound dejected, empty. 

He swallows at the sound of you being so different. You’re missing the light that usually fills out the dark space in him. Homelander doesn’t know how to approach you. When’s the last time he’s had to comfort anyone? Truly comfort someone. Has anyone ever asked or even trusted him to be there for them?

Whether you’ve asked or not, he needs to be there for you.

It’s the least you deserve.

“Yeah right.”

He unzips his boots, setting them neatly next to each other before sliding under the sheets right behind you. He hooks his arm over you, pulling your back into his chest. And although you’re not reciprocal to his affection like you usually would be, the warmth he feels is enough to ease the anxiety in his gut.

He wedges his head in between your head and shoulder, watching with you as you mindlessly scroll through social media.

“How long have you been doom scrolling now?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head lightly against your shoulder.

 “I don’t know. A while I guess.” While you squirm in his hold your tone is still just as impenetrable.

“You’re not even looking at the screen!” When you don’t even react he frowns. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” He plucks your phone from your hands, turning and placing it on the bedside table away from you. He acts as a barrier between it and you, giving you no chance of getting it back. He rolls over back to you, greeted with the sight of you facing him.

Instantly he pulls you into him, both arms tightly around you with heavy comfort. It’s what he would’ve wanted in times of despair. It’s what you do when he seeks comfort. The whole body embrace where all he can focus on is you. It always grounds him.

He hopes it has a similar effect on you.

“What’s wrong?” He says. This time in a soft, low voice. No longer trying to put on a show. He’s meant to be there for you, not for a crowd.

“I don’t really know how to talk about it… Or if I even want to…” While you don’t sound like yourself, part of him is glad to hear your sadness. It’s better than the dejected empty voice. The closer you are to revealing your true sorrows the closer he is to getting you to feel better.

“Okay. You can… I don’t know, at least try to tell me something about what’s going on. Orrr, I will be reciting all of the amendments to the Constitution of the United States.” He’s gambling with the teasing tone of his voice but it pays off when you groan and giggle.

“Oh god no, not again!” 

“Welp, it’s your choice.” By now he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. He gives you a soft squeeze.

“Alright, I can try.” You concede with a calm defeat.

“Good. That’s a start.” He kisses the top of your head, still holding and caressing you.

But most importantly, actually listening to you.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade @littlegaaby @jokesonyoupup

@nommingonfood @infinetlyforgotten @nervoussystemss

[melljam]

oh my god the unimpressed stare that shingen and gitae give when an opponent tries to attack them with something that fails miserably

shingen’s depressed little glance down at the blade that has just pathetically embedded itself into his skin as if that even does anything because his bones are genuinely impenetrable since he is quite literally built different

gitae’s mildly annoyed side eye at the officers for daring to believe that tasing him would work when they should have somehow known that he’s also just built different and would not even be stopped from committing axe murder if lightning struck him ten times over

ALSO these two are the type that gets excited over something/someone that can actually threaten their lives because of how used to being The Strongest™ they are

its such a shounen villain problem to have. sigh, another entirely boring and unfulfilling day of being the Strongest Guy Ever. when will someone who can actually contend with me come along to usurp my position as The Strongest™ :(

and shingen has experienced That with gap … now he longs for it again because he’s 1. depressed that he lost and 2. depressed that no one else can measure up to gap

their fight truly was the most important part of shingen’s life … unlike the birth of his many sons (or the very existence of one gun), which comparatively means Nothing to shingen

and gitae??? well, it could be argued that he might have just been annoyed at the officers for interrupting his fight, but that also means that he was enjoying his fight with jichang at least a little

but not in the same sense that shingen enjoyed his fight with gap. it was more like gitae was toying with jichang, and he found it amusing because of how easy it was

he’s so strong that he doesn’t even have to try with the strongest king. gitae can just mess with the poor guy until he decides to put him out of his weak misery when it stops being fun (which was when jichang rejected his offer to be his very own Smart Guy and it seemed to hurt gitae’s ego lol)

and after cop interruption, making jichang promise to let gitae be the one to kill him later on??? such a hilariously emasculating thing to do, like, we already know who’s winning our fight and it’s me so don’t even bother trying. just reserve yourself to die by my hand later, kthxbye <3

(jichang would not be able to uphold that promise, so i guess he was able to defy gitae in another way of his own …?)

or gitae’s teased fight with sinu. sinu went all out because he wasn’t taking any chances with another threat to big deal’s existence, and gitae got DISTRACTED in the middle of it. like, yeah your speed is cool and all but is that my dead father? oh, wait no! it’s my half-brother!

both jichang and sinu gave it their all to fight against someone who threatened themselves and their people, and gitae easily brushed them off but gave them an A for Effort !!!

shingen and gitae* must be somewhat bored with fighting when there are so few opponents that could actually compare to them in terms of strength. winning so easily almost makes it a menial chore for them. its the epitome of suffering from success lol

*it applies more to shingen than gitae though, gitae seems like he has the time of his life effortlessly messing around with weaker opponents, a predator playing with its prey

are they seeking something exciting, to flirt with the adrenaline rush of death because the safety of life has just gotten too dull for them?

to bring it back to the original point of the post: the ease of fighting must make the activity so underwhelming now. it becomes disappointing enough to produce such unconcerned expressions to injuries/attacks that would threaten an average person’s life

[heartless-tate]

Lovers | Feysand X Freader

A/n; based off this request! Tysm for the request, I hope you enjoy! warnings; smut, lil bit of angst?, threesome, p in v, v in ur mouth 😍😍, cussing? Message me if I missed anything guys! Happy reading!

It had been 2 weeks since the night. You had stayed holed up in your apartment. You were embarrassed- or no ashamed? Confused? And bewildered by what had happened. Rhysand had invited you to Rita’s with the inner circle. You had went- enjoyed the night. And then it was time to leave. Everyone went their separate ways, except you. So you ended up on the couch beside Feyre and Rhys, drinking the tea she had made you.

“Thank you Feyre.” You whispered, grasping the hot tea she had made you. She smiled and nodded, keen eyes watching as you sipped on it. She sat down beside you again, closer this time, leaving you almost sandwiched between her and Rhys. You all sat in comfortable silence as you finished your tea. You hadn’t been drinking that night, as you didn’t feel like it. The drink was warm in your body. It relaxed you. You almost didn’t notice Rhysand’s wing brushing closer to your skin. You decided he hadn’t done it on purpose and ignored it. Until you turned your head to Feyre, and her lips were smashing against yours. She was kissing you. Her lips tasted of cherries. She chopped your face gently but firm. What was happening? You waited for Rhys to freak out but before you knew it, you felt his hand on your waist and thighs, his lips meeting your neck. Oh gods. What was happening?

And why did it feel so good? You melted into the kiss before jerking back, gasping for air. They both pulled back. Their eyes were glued to you. Your face was flushed slightly.

“Are you okay with this?” Rhysand purred behind you. You didn’t have time to think before you were nodding.

“Yeah.”

The night was magical. They certainly worked as a pair to make you cum more then once. And by the end of the night, hours later, you laid in their arms. And then in the morning you went home before they woke. You had no words. What were you suppose to say? You had shown them your most vulnerable side. Naked and pleading for them-

And now you didn’t know where any of you stood. You sighed internally. They probably were just trying something new and you were the easiest option. Easy. Easy.? Yeah. That was it. It was a one time fuck. You were just Feyre’s friend and Rhysand’s worker. Nothing more.

That thought shouldn’t of hurt, but it did. You weren’t anything. The urge to dissociate and never speak to them grew stronger. Run away and hide- but you could never escape from two beings so strong. Or would they even care if you left? They had eachother. They didn’t need you. You were a quick fuck.

A knock sounded on your door, distracting you from your thoughts. Who was here? You slowly slid from the bath, the water cold now. You threw on a shirt and made your way to the door. Cassian stood there.

“Hey!” He chirped loudly. His wings were flared slightly. He made note of your appearance. You seemed tired. And stressed.

“Hey Cas?” You said, raising an eyebrow. You leaned against the door frame. Why was he here?

“You haven’t been around in awhile! We were getting worried. You sick or something?” He pried. His eyes scanned your apartment behind you. It was a bit of a mess.

“Oh..yeah. Just haven’t been feeling well I guess.” You lied, knowing he would report back to Rhysand immediately. What we’re you suppose to say? ‘Oh I’m just sad and depressed because I fucked your high lord and high lady!’ Definitely not.

Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed. You did look sick. Your scent was weird too. Whatever you were, it wasn’t happy and healthy. “Have you seen a doctor?” He asked.

“No? I’m fine.” You said, wanting him to leave. He bristled slightly.

“Y/n-“

“I’m fine.” You growled. He sighed. He nodded.

“Okay.” And then he was gone. You felt bad, but you didn’t want to be around anyone right now.

Not even an hour passed before banging at your door started. What the fuck? You quickly approached the door and slammed it open. Before you could get any words out, hands were on your face, inspecting you. Rhysand.

“You’re sick.” He stated. he brushed your hair from your face, holding a hand to your forehead. Cassian snitched. The little fucker. You pulled away harshly, taking a step back.

“I’m fine.” You said for what felt like the millionth time today. He stepped forward with you, eyes narrowed. They searched over you, looking for injuries. He looked back to you. He sniffed the air.

“You smell weird.” He commented. You rolled your eyes.

“Wow thanks.” You said sarcastically. You turned around and walked back into your apartment hoping he’d get the hint and leave. He followed you in. He looked around the apartment.

“Maybe it’s this shithole. The air is musty around here, you should come live in one of our houses.” He purred with a smirk.

“No.”

His smirk dropped. He approached where you stood in the kitchen, his wings crowding the space as he stood behind you. He observed your cooking. “Cauldron. Being sick makes you cranky.” He teased. “If you were sick you should’ve told me. You could’ve come and let me and Feyre care for you.”

You tensed. What was he playing? You focused on the pot of your favorite comfort food. You stepped closer to the stove rather then being near him.

“I’m not sick.” You mumbled, wanting him to leave.

“Hm? Then why do you smell rotten?”

You flinched at his words. You turned around facing him. He was so tall. “Unless you came here for something else other then insulting me with every sentence, I suggest you leave.” You threatened. His eyes widened. His wings spread.

“You’re coming with me.” He declared suddenly. It was your turn to be shocked. “I suggest you start packing.”

Rhysand didn’t give you a choice, joining you in packing a few of your clothes. Why was he doing this?

You currently sat on a couch. The same couch where feyre ate you out. Where Rhysand fingered you. You shook the nasty thoughts away. Easy. You where just an easy fuck. Nothing more. You reminded yourself. Still- you felt a small growing heat in your body.

Feyre and Rhysand sat in front of you on the opposite couch. This was awkward.

“You have two options.” Feyre started.

“You can tell us what’s wrong and why you haven’t gone to a doctor, or you can let us call Madja.” Rhysand finished.

You groaned out loud. “For the last time! I’m fine. I’m not sick.”

Feyre opened her mouth to point out your scent. Rhysand stopped her.

“Then whats wrong?” Rhysand inquired. They both stared at you with big expecting eyes. You definitely weren’t getting out of this.

“I lied. I didn’t want to have to go back to work.” You mumbled. This was humiliating. Feyre quirked a brow. You weren’t the type that was lazy. You always showed up. You were a medicine specialist, and a healer. And also the best poison artist. Everyone in the inner circle loved you so much that you eventually just started being apart of it. And for you not to show up, meant something was wrong. Was it someone? No. You still smelled unhealthy.

“Explain.” Rhysand demanded, adjusting his position.

“I didn’t wanna be around you.” You stated. They both flinched and looked to each other.

“Is this about that night?” Feyre questioned. You stayed silent, not wanting to answer.

“Damnit Rhys I knew we made a mistake not checking in sooner.” Feyre growled quietly. Rhysand sighed, nodding in agreement.

“What?” You asked. What did she mean?

“We’re sorry we didn’t come and check up on you-“ Rhysand started. He sighed again. “I thought it would be best to give you space and let you process things.”

“Process? Process what? It was sex. That was it.” You barked.

Both of their faces dropped. “Just sex..?” Rhysand questioned. Feyre turned back to you. “It wasn’t just sex.” She growled challenging.

The room went silent. Feyre rubbed her temples. Rhysand stood abruptly. You looked up at him as he stepped closer.

“Love. It wasn’t ‘just sex.’ At least, not to us. It was much more. We both have liked, no loved, you for awhile. Ever since you joined the night court. We thought us making love to you made our intentions clear. When you disappeared we assumed you needed space to adjust to having two mates.” Rhysand spoke softly, crouching in front of you.

Oh. Oh. “Mates?!” You whispered. He nodded. Oh mother. Two mates? They were your mates. Your fucking mates. A sense of panic filled your system. They were making love to you and you thought they were just fucking you. Of course you had a small crush on them. Who wouldn’t? But you never saw it going anywhere. But now? Mates. Mates.

You couldn’t help but warm, remembering the night. Remembering had originally made you feel embarrassed. But now? You remembered how gentle and loving they were. The way Rhys pumped himself gently into you, kissing at your neck, with feyre suckling on your swollen clit. Your face heated up at the memory. Talons caressed your mind gently. You quickly shook the thought away, embarrassed at the wet feeling in your panties.

A hand rubbed your knee. Feyre. She was now beside you both. “It’s okay, love. We know it’s a lot to process. But don’t lie about being sick again. It had us worried.” She motioned to your bags beside the couch. Her voice was slightly scolding.

“I..” you paused. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. Let us in.” Rhysand murmured, two sets of talons gently scratching your mind barriers. You let the barriers down. You felt them both crowding in your mind, searching and going over all your thoughts the pass two weeks. Trying asses how you feel. You felt embarrassed.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of darling.” Feyre **purred in your mind. They looked to each other when they were done.

Rhysand’s hand slowly went higher on your leg. His hand approaching your inner thigh. You squeezed them together instinctively. He smirked.

“You’re not easy. You’re not an experiment. You’re are mate.” He said, loud and clear. Feyre nodded, moving to sit beside you. She brushed your hair behind your ear.

You nodded. “And we can take our time. We don’t have to rush into this. But please, don’t distant yourself away. We’ll wait days to years until your ready to accept our bond.” Feyre whispered.

I want to accept it now. You thought. They both smirked cheekily.

“Words, love.” Rhysand purred, his hands suddenly dipping under your skirt. You felt his fingers brush against your clothed pussy. An embarrassing loud wet noise sounded. His smile grew wider. Feyre snickered.

“I want to-“ you gasped as Feyre’s hands cupped your breast, teasing your nipple slightly. Rhysand took the opportunity to slip your panties aside and trail his fingers through your slick.

“Hm?” Feyre teased.

“I want to accept the bond- now-“ you whispered out, hand clutching at Rhys’s wrist. It did nothing to stop his finger entering your cunt. It was a stretch already. He was big. You only came up to Rhysand’s chest when standing in front of him, and naturally everything on his body was bigger. Feyre ate you out last time to help adjust your body to his cock.

“Good girl.” They said in your mind. The praise triggered a rush of heat to your body again. Feyre’s hands slowly unbuttoned your blouse. She leaned down and licked a stripe in between your breast. Her nails turned to claws as she effortlessly ripped away your bra. Your chest was bare now. Your nipples hardened to the cold air. She leaned down, sucking a nipple into her mouth. You moaned, clenching on Rhysand’s finger. ke knelt between your legs, taking his time in spreading you open. He added another finger.

“She’s so tight.” Rhysand groaned, watching as your cunt clenched down. It was making a lot of noise now. Feyre giggled against your chest, fondling the other.

“And sensitive.” She purred. She flicked your other nipple, causing you to cry out. It hurt, but it felt so good. Rhysand attempted easing another finger in.

“Relax baby, i won’t be able to stuff you full if I can’t get two fingers in.”

You took a deep breath, calming your body. Everything felt so hot. Your breath were coming out in short pants. Feyre moved away, causing you to whine. She giggled again, her claw scraping your head gently. Rhysand’s fingers slowly entered you, pressing against the right spot. A spot you knew your fingers couldn’t even reach. He suddenly jerked away, leaving you empty. You whimpered softly.

He smiled and started removing your skirt and panties. Your panties were soaked. He held on to them a little longer, taking his time in sniffing them lewdly. He set them aside. You were completely bare. They were still clothed. You felt vulnerable and weak around them. And for some reason that made you wetter. You were at their will.

Rhysand’s fingers entered again, setting a much faster pace this time. They pressed into your g-spot everytime they entered. You bit your lip, trying to contain your noises.

Feyre growled warningly, and leaning nipping your cheek. She caught your lips in a rough kiss, hand clasping at your jaw. Her tongue entered your mouth, exploring. It was so stimulating- it was hard to breath but you couldn’t care. Rhysand’s fingers pumping in you, and her tongue in your mouth. Rhysand’s tongue met your clit causing you to gasp. He kitten licked it a few times before pulling back. He was fingering you so aggressively. A third finger went in.

You moaned into Feyre’s mouth as her hand started toying with your breast again. A knot formed in your stomach. They weren’t even touching your clit and yet you were about to cum. Rhysand smirked knowingly. Feyre but your lip, and pulled away. She watched with piercing eyes.

“Look at your pretty pussy baby. It’s so wet. You’re soaking the couch.” She muttered, pulling your chin down to force you to look. Your wetness was all over his hands, practically drowning them. He was watching you. He pumped harder, enjoying the way your cunt squelched with each thrust of his hand. Your thighs clenched together, only his hands stopping them from closing completely. You were so close.

You yelled when his other hand came down against your clit, slapping it roughly. You didn’t have time to process it before you were squirting on his chest. His mouth immediately latched onto you, drinking in your juices greedily. You cried out, squirming, it was too much. Feyre watched with amazement.

“Awe. We have a squirter. You didn’t do that last time, sweetie.” She squealed. Rhysand moaned against your cunt, the vibrations making you whine. He pulled away, petting your inner thigh to soothe you.

“You didn’t have permission to cum yet. You disobeyed. And yet you came just from me slapping your clit. Such a needy slut for us.” He scolded, causing you to look away in embarrassment. You clenched around nothing.

“And she tastes so fucking good.” Rhysand said, swiping his fingers across your cunt before shoving them in Feyre’s mouth. Feyre moaned at the taste, slurping on his fingers loudly. You felt yourself grow wetter at the sight. Rhysand leaned up taking his fingers out and smashing his lips on hers. They made out aggressively, growling and nipping eachother’s lips. You moaned at the sight.

It snapped their attention to you. They broke off the kiss, eyes sliding to your body. Your beautiful body.

“C’mere” Feyre whispered, grabbing you gently and winnowing both you and Rhysand into their room. You landed in the bed. You watched as they undressed quickly, making their way to you. Rhysand approached and dragged you to the edge. He slotted himself in between your legs. His cock was hard and throbbing. It was massive. You wondered how you managed to take it last time. He smiled at your thoughts, petting your thigh softly. Feyre climbed on the bed, straddling your head. Her pussy was glistening and dripping wet.

“Open up darling.” She muttered, lowering herself onto your mouth. You quickly latched on, licking and slurping aggressively against her heat. She tasted so fucking good. Her hips rocked, slowly fucking your face. Her hands found your hair, holding you in place.

Rhysand ran a finger down your lips, watching as you squirmed. He was so hard. Painfully hard. He watched as you desperately slurped on Feyre’s cunt. Like a pathetic little puppy. God. He loved his two lovers so much. He playfully slapped your pussy again, making you whimper against her cunt.

“Shut up. You came without permission, so you don’t get a say in anything else.” Feyre reprimanded, pressing her hips down harder. She watched as you moaned helplessly. Her pussy dripped more juices.

Rhysand rubbed his throbbing tip up and down your slit, lubricating himself. His tongue ran over his lips.

You squeaked when Rhys shoved his long length in, it sliding easily in. It was a tight fit, and heat spread throughout your whole body. It felt like you were on fire. Feyre smirked and continued rutting her pussy on your face, watching as you mouth became a wet mess. She tasted like candy- and fuck it was good. You lapped helplessly on her clit. Rhys’ tip kissed your cervix, pushing. And then he started thrusting. His heavy balls slapped against your ass, creating wet noises.

You couldn’t help your broken moans, suckling on Feyre’s clit, and getting pounded roughly by Rhys. His hand rubbed your thigh, and his other flicked your clit a few times before rubbing it fast. You couldn’t do anything to stop him as you were overcome with an intense amount of pleasure. Feyre grasped your hair tighter, moaning loudly.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum.” She groaned, watching as you whimpered and licked her desperately. She came in your mouth with a low feminine growl, claws scraping your hair. Her release filled your mouth, and you swallowed it obediently. She moved away, kissing you gently. A sharp contrast from her fucking your face. Rhysand pinched your clit, slamming his cock deeper into you. A familiar knot formed in your stomach, making you moan. His hand moved from your thigh, rising to your stomach where he bulged. He was so deep. He pressed onto it roughly, watching as your back arched.“Stupid slut- you enjoy this so much don’t you? Getting fucked by your two mates. Look how deep I am. Gonna fill this tight little cunt up.” Rhysand stuttered out, his moans filling the room. Feyre moved, letting you see the bulge in your stomach that formed with every thrust up. Holy fuck. His other hand started roughly rubbing your clit.

“No-“ you whined out. It was too much. “Can’t!” Rhysand leaned forward, knocking you in a mating press. His hips snapped roughly into yours. He gently kissed you and leaned over to kiss feyre, ignoring your cries. He only went faster, not listening. He pulled away from Feyre. “Rhys- please-“ You screamed. And then the knot snapped, your body shaking vigorously as you came on his dick.

And he didn’t stop. His hips snapped aggressively, heavy balls full of cum. He snickered as you tried squirming away.

“Where you goin’ baby? Not done yet- gonna stuff this pussy full of cum. You want that right?” He purred, lifting your legs on his shoulders. He gently kissed your ankle. Feyre leaned and started biting and nipping your chest. It was too much.

“Y-yes!” You yelled, feeling dumb fucked. His cock dragged along your walls, aggressively hitting the spot that made your toes curl. Your moans came out in broken chants of their names, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Oh cauldron- gonna cum.” He whimpered out, flicking your clit wildly. His cock slammed in one more time, stilling and releasing ropes of hot cum. The feeling brought you to your next release.

The room filled with pants and the smell of sex. Feyre’s hand gently rubbed your stomach, soothing you. She released your nipple and grinned happily. She brushed back a piece of sweaty hair.

“So cute..” she praised. She kissed your cheek. Rhysand slowly pulled out. He patted your thigh gently.

“Did so good baby.” He praised too. Everything was hazy, and spinning. You were blissed out. He smiled and tapped your face a few times.

“You with us?” He muttered. You nodded. He leaned back and slid a finger in your cunt, causing you to gasp. He pulled it out, stringing your juices and his cum. He smirked and licked it off of his finger.

“Ready?” Feyre asked.

“What?” You questioned.

“Oh cmon on. You didn’t seriously think we were done with our little cum dump yet did you?” She laughed. Rhysand grabbed your hips, flipped you around and pulled your ass high in the air. He leaned down and licked a stripe up your cunt.

“No. We’re far from done.” Your mate whispered, diving in.

[johnwickb1tsch]

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 2

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you. 

Part 2 of a little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. ILYSM!😘

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by saradika part 1

2. 

You’re a heavy sleeper, but this takes the cake.

When you stagger into your kitchen and look out the window Tex’s Chevelle is parked half in your gravel driveway, half in your yard. And tethered to your fence post munching green grass to his heart’s content is a certain miniature equine who you’d tried to acquire with cold hard cash the night before.

Fuck.

You march outside in your threadbare nightgown and your bare feet, finding Tex asleep in the driver’s seat. How the hell did he even get this horse here with that car?

If he put Ziggy in the trunk you are going to murder him.

You pound on the window, and he wakes with a violent start. “Popsicles!”

“What?”

He looks around, before fixing on you, and seems to relax a hair. “Mornin’, darlin’.”

“What. The fuck. Did you do?”

“Uh…funny story…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What? Didn’t you want this horse?”

“Yeah, but…” You pull at your hair, feeling a migraine coming on already. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

You turn in the dew-wet grass to go check on Ziggy. You hear Tex exiting the car behind you. “Don’t be mad, baby.”

“I’m not mad,” you answer sadly, running your fingers through the little horse’s coarse blond mane. “I’m scared.”

Ziggy nibbles at your fingers with his meaty lips, wanting the treats he associates you with. He was going to need a whole lot more than molasses cookies though. You could already tell how your day was going to go.

“Don’t be scared either, darlin’,” Tex says behind you.

“Easy for you to say. You realize this is the first place Dale is gonna come look? And he’ll probably bring Donnie too.”

Nevermind the restraining order you have. It won’t stop him. He’s friends with half the sheriff’s deputies anyway. The Barksdales are damn near untouchable. You learned that the oh so hard way.

“Honey, I’m not going to let them hurt you.” 

For the sake of the horse you keep your temper in check, moderating your voice when all you want to do is yell. “What are you going to do? Watch over me every minute of the day?” He lifts his brows like he likes that idea–you do too, which is batshit insane, because you don’t actually know a goddamn thing about this man.

“Hold on. How did you even know where I live?”

He shrugs. “Not hard to find out, if you know where to look.”

“Well that’s not creepy at all.”

You guess all he’d have to do is ask at the gas station–your family’s been here long enough that it’s basically common knowledge.

You stand there in your faded floral muumuu and your bare feet, toe to toe with this tall dark man and if you had any sense you would be afraid…but you’re not. You’re not because you just don’t think he’ll hurt you. You feel it in your bones and you haven’t had that certainty about any man in so long you can’t remember, and it’s driving you a little wild inside.

“I need my boots,” you sigh, and brush past him to go back to the house.

***

You put Ziggy in the farthest back stall of your barn, where he’ll be out of sight should anyone come looking. With a flake of hay and some grains in his bucket, he seems perfectly content, the sweet sound of him munching filling the old oak building. You lean on a rough sawn post and watch him with a storm in your heart, wondering how long its been since he’d been able to eat his fill.

There will be a price to pay for this little horse’s well being, and you decide whatever it is will be worth it, even if you are afraid. Tex’s presence might deter vengeance for a little while, but he won’t be here forever. You know he won’t, no matter how nice it is to think it, so you’d better be ready.

You were going to have to think on this.

But first, you were going to have to call the ferrier. Luckily you had a friend who wouldn’t rat you out to the Barksdales. Angela was tough as nails and didn’t kowtow to their bullshit. 

It occurs to you that maybe the best thing for Ziggy, and the best thing for you, might be to get this horse far away from here. You wouldn’t put it past Dale or Donnie or one of his other heartless relatives to sneak into your barn in the dead of night and do something awful. There wouldn’t be a whole lot you could do about it either.

You’ve had this horse for about 5 seconds, and the thought of giving him up already breaks your heart.

Tex has been standing silently beside you. You feel his eyes on you, but in what you suspect is a rare occurrence, he’s not running his mouth, giving you space to think. But when you give a heavy sigh he finally breaks. “Come on, darlin’, I thought this would make you happy. It kills me to see you sad.” He opens his arms to you, but you eye them warily. It’s too tempting by far. The way this man is dangerous to you, is that you could get too used to his company too quick.

“You want breakfast?” you deflect.

He nods, those dark eyes taking the measure of you, looking through you, you’re afraid, right into your soul. “Sure.” But he doesn’t move, still just looking at you. 

“What?” you grouse.

Your annoyance only makes him grin.

“Did I mention you’re the cutest little thing in a muumuu and muck boots this side of the Mississippi?”

You roll your eyes, not believing him for a minute. Your hair is still in its bird’s nest of a sleeping braid and you haven’t had your coffee yet. With hands on your hips you look him over too. He’s still wearing the same shirt as last night, and his eyes are a little bloodshot.

“Did you tie one on last night and steal that horse?”

He scrubs at the back of his neck, looking all the while like a guilty schoolboy. “Well…about that…”

This is the thing that finally breaks through your black mood, lifting your sorrow like a blanket. The thought of this man committing grand theft pony–dare you think it, for you–brings a small smile to your lips, and a whole lot of sunshine to your heart.

“Tell me in the house. I’m hungry.” When he doesn’t immediately budge you turn him by the shoulders and give him a shove. Without really thinking about it, you smack his ass for good measure. That tight little behind is round, and firm, and you bite your lip without meaning to, wishing it was something else.

He makes a show of jumping with surprise, smirking at you knowingly over his shoulder. “Watch it, baby girl, or I’mma get myself a handful next,” he warns you with a wicked glint in his eye that makes your insides churn. 

You don’t know what insane notion possesses you, when you stick out your tongue at him– and run. 

You're smarter than this. You know you don't run from a predator. You face them down and smack them on the nose. 

His laughter from right behind you makes an electric thrill zip from your heart to your toes. Dear Lord. No man should be this much fun. 

He really is like a drug, and you don’t know what you were thinking running from him, because you are not fast, and you are clumsy, but somehow it’s him behind you who lets out a surprised yell.

You turn to find Tex with his foot in a hole up to his calf. “Oh my god. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” He extricates himself, and you both peer down into a tunnel running under the aisle of your dirt floor barn. You look at the direction, and follow it to an unoccupied stall. Throwing open the door, you find mounds and mounds of freshly disturbed earth.

“Motherfucker. That groundhog is back.”

Tex looks at the impressive damage with eyebrows raised high. “Goddam. You sure it ain’t a bear? Or a rogue bulldozer?”

“Yes. I can’t deal with this now. Come on.” You take his hand, pulling him towards the house, and he happily follows.

You pause at the front door. “Umm…it’s going to be chaos for a minute. Fair warning.” Then you lead him into the fray.

Chichi is a tiny black and tan tornado at your feet, yipping and screaming. You shake a treat can and hand one to Tex. “Give this to him if you want to live.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tex complies, crouching down to the little dog’s level to offer the morsel. Chichi gobbles it and quiets down, switching to sniffing and licking as Tex scratches his side. His hand is almost as big as your dog, and it touches your heart, how sweet he is to the little creature. Satisfied, Chichi runs back to you for a snuggle.

“We good now?” you ask the little chihuahua. He licks you fervently, and you laugh, setting him back down on the floor. Your bulldog reacts in the exact opposite manner, not even getting out of her bed, only deigning to open one eye to regard your visitor. Your conure has joined in the cacophony, and will not quiet until you give him a piece of apple.

“I hope you like fresh eggs and bacon, it’s all I got.”

“Alright.” He seems amused by you, and the happy mayhem of your home, looking around with a sparkle in his eye. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure.” You point him in the right direction and go to the kitchen, lighting a burner under your cast iron skillet. You busy yourself with frying bacon and cracking eggs and filling the kettle for coffee. You are so concentrated on your task that it takes you a moment to notice Tex leaning on the door jam–sans shirt.

You blink, and nearly put your hand in the hot pan. “You forget something?” you ask, trying like hell not to stare at the broad expanse of muscled torso before you. Jesus fucking christ, that’s not fair.

“My clean shirts are back at the motel,” he defends. 

His hair is slightly damp from washing up, looking unfairly edible.

He sidles closer, and you notice the top button of his jeans is undone. A long scar runs down the center of his abdomen, leading your eye to a dark patch of hair that disappears into his waistband. 

Evil. This man is pure evil–and you want to taste every inch of him.

“My eyes are up here, darlin’,” he says with a smirk. 

“You are a menace,” you grouse, holding up a spatula in defense as he just keeps getting closer. He smirks, looking down at the implement.

“You gonna spank me, sweetheart?”

“I would, but I’m afraid you’d like it.”

You are warm all over, and it has nothing to do with slaving over a hot stove.

“Can I help?”

Like he hasn’t helped enough.

“Sure. Pour that hot water into that carafe.”

He looks between the french press, the kettle, and you. “Ever heard of a Mr. Coffee?”

“We don’t tolerate weak coffee in this house.”

He grins at you, doing as he’s told. He even knows to stir it with a wooden spoon, which makes you think he was just pulling your leg.

While you are flipping bacon you feel him zero in behind you, the line of warmth from his body like a heat lamp at your back. “Smells wonderful,” he says, daring to touch your waist.

“It’s meat candy, what do you expect?” You’re not sure if you’re talking about the bacon, or him. 

“Hmm.” His chuckle is a low rumble behind you. You feel it reverberate in your bones. The tips of his fingers press into your sides as he grips fistfuls of your nightgown–and you–as he nuzzles your hair. The sound you make as you wiggle in his arms is almost cartoonish. He takes no mercy, laughing and holding you closer. The warm, solid line of his body behind you is divine, so wonderful you can hardly stand it.

“You are going to make me burn the bacon!” you screech in an attempt at self-defense.

“That’s alright, I’ll just eat you for breakfast,” he tells you in that low growl that makes your knees weak, ducking to nibble at your ear. It’s possible you give in for a few seconds, your head rocking back against his shoulder as he holds you. Why does it have to feel like you fit together so well? When his long fingers bunch in your skirt, pulling it up as his other hand reaches for your breast you think you might combust. In a panic you smack his hand with the spatula with a little scream, trying not to giggle. 

“Go sit down!”

With a wicked chuckle he skips out of reach before you can smack him again, collapsing into one of the old wooden kitchen chairs. His smoldering gaze meets yours, and you feel unsettled. 

This man. Lord save you.

Or not. Maybe…you don’t want to be saved.

“I don’t know how you do things in Texas, but here you don��t get to feel a girl up just because you rustled a horse for her.”

He grins, baring his teeth like he means to eat you.

“Sorry, darlin’, blame the muumuu.”

You try to keep a straight face, but in the end you fail utterly. 

“You gonna tell me how all this happened?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“No, but I should.”

“Hmm. Well, after the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met abandoned me at the fair–”

“Oh save it, Mr. L.A. stuntman.”

He grins but goes on, “I had to do something to nurse my broken heart. So I went to the aforementioned TJ’s by the creek…”

“Ok, this is starting to make sense.”

You start setting dishes of food and plates on the table. Eggs, bacon, toast, butter and jam, and of course, coffee. “And I only had one drink, because I’m a cautious sort of fellow…”

“Yes, that has been made glaringly apparent in the short time I've known you.”

He nods in agreement with a fey glint in his eye all the while. “And who walks in, but our friend Dale…”

“Oh god. You didn’t pick a fight with him, did you?”

“I did not. I went out to the parking lot, to find his horse trailer still full of petting zoo employees conveniently two cars away from mine.”

You cover your mouth, so he can’t see the absolutely feral grin forming on your lips. “You didn’t.”

“I so did. Let the goats out to disperse in the woods there, and wouldn’t you know Ziggy fit right in my passenger seat?”

You are picturing this big tough man in his muscle car peeling out down the road with that cute little horse as a co-pilot. That must be the point when you officially lose your sanity, because you crawl into his lap, planting a big kiss right on his mouth. He lets out a low moan of appreciation, cupping your rear end in his two big hands.

“Tex?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“You’re a goddamned hero.”

“I know! I’ve been trying to tell you,” he says with a grin, stealing another kiss.

You try to extricate yourself to go sit in the opposite chair, but he will not let you. You eat breakfast together, sitting in his lap, his big warm hand on your thigh while you giggle and feed each other morsels and talk, and you can’t help but feel like things might turn out afterall.

***

Tex is helping you do the dishes, or maybe distracting you from doing the dishes, because he keeps plying you with toe curling kisses, when the two of you watch a battered red Chevy pickup pull down your driveway.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing it immediately.

“Here we go. Later than I expected.”

You look up at him open mouthed, an involuntary fear response coursing through your veins, turning your limbs ice cold. “You expected?”

“It’s alright, darlin’. Stay inside.” He kisses your forehead, cradling your cheek with a sweet assurance that you want to believe in, more than anything. It would be too good to be true, to have a man who could really protect you. Someone you could just…depend on. You want it with every fiber of your being, and rather than get your shotgun and run out to the porch on bare feet, you stand there in the kitchen and watch Tex go out the door, pulling a white t-shirt down over a blocky black object tucked into the back of his jeans.

Oh Lord. 

Predictably, Dale is driving, and your blood turns to ice as your piece-of-shit ex spills out of the passenger seat. And even though you know the very Devil is standing there in your driveway, your first thought, as ever when seeing Donnie Barksdale, is damn he looks good. 

There really is something wrong with you. 

He’s wearing a flannel with the sleeves cut off and his usual trucker hat advertising some manner of farm implement (as if he’s ever worked that hard). As always, the sight of Donnie feels like a sharp knife shoved up between your ribs. No matter what he did to you, a part of you will always love that man, or at least, the boy he was when he was your friend, your first love, before he became so hell bent on destroying you. To this day, you do not understand what you ever did to that man, to make him turn on you so violently. You offered him all the love in your heart, and in turn he made you feel worthless. For a time, you actually believed it was true. Now you know better, but it’s been a long, hard road.

“Who the hell are you?” barks Donnie up at the self-assured man standing sentry on your front porch. 

“That’s not what you should be worryin’ about right now,” answers Tex, leaning on the post. 

“That a fact?” 

“Yep. The thing you should be worryin’ about is that you’re trespassin’.” 

Dale exits his truck, leaning on the dented hood. “That’s the fucker that hit me last night, Donnie.” 

Donnie nods, sizing Tex up. The thing about Donnie is…he doesn’t like to get into a fight he doesn’t know he’s going to win. And Tex is a helluva wildcard. It’s possible your no-good wife-beatin’ ex finally met his match. 

“He’s leaving out the bit about askin’ for it. Is beatin’ on y/n y/l/n just a universal pastime in this county for you boys when you run outta pigs to fuck, or what?” drawls Tex, picking at his fingernails. 

Donnie bristles at this, taking a step forward. “Motherfucker–” 

“That’s as far as you go, son,” warns Tex, producing the object from the back of his jeans. You knew it was a gun. You did not know it was that big of a gun. Donnie is wearing his usual inscrutable aviators, but Dale’s eyes go wide. 

“We’re just here to get my stolen horse, mister,” says Dale, holding his hands up. 

“Aww, you boys missin’ your lil’ pony? Better check the lost and found then. It ain’t here.” 

“We’ll have a look for ourselves,” spits Donnie, stepping towards the barn. 

Boom!

The report of the pistol is deafening, and the bullet sends up an explosion of gravel right in front of Donnie’s feet. The dogs and the bird go crazy, starting up and barking and screeching. Donnie jumps backwards three feet, his glasses falling off into the dirt. The expression of fear on his face is as rare as it is priceless. 

“You crazy asshole!”

You scoop up Chichi, trying to comfort him. The little dog trembles like a leaf in your arms. You murmur nonsense to it, but your eyes are glued to the confrontation outside, adrenaline rolling through your veins like flash flood water. You realize you’re shaking almost as badly as the dog. 

“Guilty. Ever seen a Desert Eagle? Shoots a big fuckin’ bullet. A .50 caliber round will explode your kneecap like an apple.” Tex whistles with appreciation, and you’re pretty sure Donnie goes pale. “Wanna test my aim today? I might miss and hit you in the balls.” 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this the way you are, but God did that man have it coming. 

 “We should call the Sheriff on you!” 

“Please do. This is a ‘stand your ground’ state. We can tell him about how you’re trespassing, and I’m pretty sure you ain’t supposed to be within 300 yards of that pretty little thing watchin’ us from the kitchen.” 

Donnie’s attention zeroes in on the window, and you sense it like a laser sight fixed upon you. You hate it, how just that hateful look makes you flinch. 

“Y/n!” Donnie calls. “Come out here!” 

“She don’t need to come out here,” says Tex. “She ain’t gonna save you.” 

Donnie seems actually surprised, when you do not obey him, staying put in your spot in the kitchen. 

When the two men just stand there in the driveway, frozen and speechless, Tex cocks the pistol for show. “You need another demonstration? Git!”

“This ain’t over, fucker!” spits Donnie, pointing menacingly–from a safe distance. 

“You better hope it is. Don’t come back, and if either one of you ever touches her again I’ll kill you. That’s a promise. Now get the fuck out of here!” 

Spoiling for a fight but clearly outgunned, the two men back towards the truck, slowly climbing in. “There you go. See ya, bronies!” 

Tex waves the pistol in their direction, and you hear Donnie yell at Dale, “Fuck! Drive! Drive!”

Dale peels out, leaving ruts in your gravel and a dust cloud as they go.

Tex stays on the porch watching until their truck is good and gone. When he finally makes it back into the house you are a teary-eyed little mess. When he sees you the flint in his eyes immediately softens. “Aw, don’t cry honey, c’mere.” You do, and with your head resting on the solid warm wall that is this man’s chest you start to lose it. 

“You actually did it.” 

“Course I did. I told you I would,” he says, stroking your hair as he holds you.

“But…you actually did it,” you say again, because you still cannot believe what just happened. No man has managed to stand up to Donnie Barksdale since your Grandpa, at 80 years old, who stood between you and Donnie in the very same spot on the porch, with the same 12 gauge you still keep behind the hutch, and threatened to cut your then-husband in half if he took another step closer. 

It was the last night Donnie beat on you, and broke your orbital bone, two of your teeth, and your arm. You’d escaped into the dark woods that night, and even though you are not stealthy or fast you managed by some miracle to make it through the brush and thorns and barbed wire fences the two miles to your grandparents’ farm house. It was the last straw, and you finally set the wheel in motion to divorce him the next day. 

You are not a pretty crier, but Tex lets you soak his shirt with tears and snot, holding you and murmuring sweet nonsense. “That’s right, honey, get it out. It’s ok.”

For once, it doesn’t sound like an empty placation. Donnie seemed genuinely scared of Tex, and Dale is an even bigger coward than Donnie. Maybe…they really will just leave you alone. 

Stranger things have happened. 

“I’m sorry,” you wheeze, trying to pull away to get a tissue. “I’m a mess.” 

But Tex pulls you back, not seeming to care one bit, and when his lips touch yours it really does seem like everything in the world has turned right. 

Amusingly, Chichi has been sandwiched between all this in your arms, and only just begins to put up a grumble of protest. “Oh hush, lil buddy,” says Tex, not unkindly, scratching the little dog under the chin. He does nearly the same thing to you, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod and offer a watery smile, setting the dog down on the ground. It’s not what Chichi wants, but he’ll live. “Yes. Thank you.” 

If Donnie believed what Tex said…you do too. There is something dangerous about this man. A wildness that makes his threat feel like a promise. You guess that when the law fails you, what you truly need is an outlaw who keeps his word. Yet you truly believe he’s not a danger to you. You feel safe with him, and maybe that’s the biggest miracle of all. 

“As silly as this sounds after the morning we’ve had…I really do have to go to work.” 

“Alright. I’ll drive you.” A part of you wants to say it’s not necessary. But the other half of you? Just wants to bask in this new found feeling of security while it lasts. You can’t expect Tex to stick around forever to babysit you. But for right now…god, it feels good, to not have to carry this weight all on your own shoulders. 

You kiss him again, and it is warm, and sweet as sugar cookies fresh from the oven. You melt into him, and with his strong arms around your waist, then lower, it is very hard to get up the motivation to go clean up and put on your uniform. 

“Honey, you keep kissin’ me like that and we’re not goin’ anywhere.” 

It’s embarrassing, but you know the sound you make in answer is something like a cat in heat, your fingers curling in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You feel his words inside you–in the rhythm of your heart, and the throb of your loins. It’s damn near unbearable, this sudden restlessness you feel inside.

You don’t have anyone else to depend on, so you always have to do the responsible thing. Go to work. Get the money. Pay the bills. No one escapes the bullshit death march of Capitalism, except the fuckers who are running the game.

And yet. Maybe…just this once…you could call in sick. 

You stand on tiptoe to kiss him again, grabbing fistfuls of the fluffy waves of his now dried hair. “Tex?” 

“Yeah, baby.” His voice is pure honey dripping golden in the sun. 

“Let’s go upstairs.” His big hands flex against the soft curves of your hips, grabbing fistfuls of nightgown like he’s thinking about tearing it off of you. Incredibly, he says nothing glib, just nods. But when he looks down at you for a long, heated moment–you think he could burn down the world, with the fire in that dark gaze. 

“Lead the way, darlin’.” 

You take his big, beautiful hands in yours, and pull him towards the stairs.

[deadpresidents]

Thanks for being real today.

I get people wanting to be hopeful.

But I can't with "it will be okay" and "we will survive this."

It was not okay for Heather Heyer, Joseph Rosenbaum, Anthony Huber, Joyce Fienberg, Richard Gottfried, Rose Mallinger, Jerry Rabinowitz, Cecil & David Rosenthal, Bernice & Sylvan Simon, Daniel Stein, Melvin Wax, Irving Younger, Andre Anchondo, Jordan Anchondo, Arturo Benavides, Leonardo Campos, Angie Englisbee, Maria Flores, Raul Flores, Guillermo "Memo" Garcia, Jorge Calvillo García, Adolfo Cerros Hernández, Alexander Gerhard Hoffman, David Johnson, Luis Alfonzo Juarez, Maria Eugenia Legarreta Rothe, Maribel (Campos) Loya, Ivan Filiberto Manzano, Elsa Mendoza Marquez, Gloria Irma Márquez, Margie Reckard, Sara Esther Regalado Moriel, Javier Rodriguez, Teresa Sanchez, Juan Velazquez, or any of the other people killed by white supremacists whose actions were aided and abetted by the Trump presidency. These people did not survive. Not to mention all the people who haven't survived COVID, but might have if the Trump administration had taken timely action. Or the women who have died after being refused appropriate medical care because of the rapist and his buddies that Trump appointed decided with some weird pastor in the 1600 said was more important than the lives of actual living, breathing, human beings. Or the school children who would not have been shot to death if we had actual gun control laws in this country, a thing that would have been possible to achieve if Trump had lost in 2016.

Yeah, sure, the majority of us in the United States will probably survive. That's how statistics work. And if that's what somebody needs to hear in order to move forward, then I guess saying such things has a purpose. But it's looking pretty shitty for anybody living in Ukraine and to me, it comes across as disrespectful to the people whose lives have been lost in no small part thanks to what goes down in US elections.

I needed somebody today who would say not only that this is not okay, but this is *really* not okay.

Thanks for being that voice.

Thank you for this. I can't help but write what I feel, even if some of it hasn't been the most optimistic message to send. There is a reality that we need to come to terms with in order to find some way forward. I'm pissed off and I'm disgusted with this country, so I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing because it is therapeutic for me right now and I'm too old to go around punching and kicking people.

I do want to say that I'm also cognizant of the fact that some people just need some time to allow this reality to settle. I certainly don't want to add to the stress or darkness that some of us are feeling right now. There is no denying that this is fucking terrible, but we will regroup and find a way through it. It won't be easy and we're going to have to fight, but I don't want anybody to think that there is genuinely no hope. There's always something that we can do, even if it seems bleak.

If I'm writing something or somebody else is saying something that you're not ready to hear, it's okay to do what you need to do to remain healthy. These posts are going to be here whenever you might feel like reading them. You can and should step away from this if you just need a fucking break. It doesn't mean you're any less ready or willing to fight this battle than anybody else. Even if Trump and the rotten MAGA cult takes control of every lever of power, you can gain a personal victory by not allowing them to completely crush your faith in the future. You can be depressed and despair, but do not give up. Do not give them that power over you. We will find a way. We will get through this. We will figure out what it is that we need to do and who we need to back and how we need to attack, but taking care of your personal health and well-being is more immediately important than the bigger political battle or the next step in the resistance. Take care of yourselves first and we'll still be here and ready to eventually harness this anger and frustration and fucking disgust to defeat the MAGA movement and Trump's Christian nationalist personality cult.

The main thing, though, is that if you're really having a tough time in the immediate future, step away, take some time, go for a walk, read something that has absolutely nothing to do with Donald Trump or American politics (if you need suggestions, I always have book recommendations!), and regroup. Again, we'll get through this, and as goofy and weird and ridiculous as Tumblr can be at times, there's always a community of people on this site willing to listen and help each other when we're struggling. So, if you are having trouble getting to tomorrow, reach out because there are scores of people here who will help get there with you.

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Andrew and Ashley x Male reader who can commune with the dead?

Gotcha gotcha

Graves Siblings x Medium!Male Reader

To be completely honest….the ability to talk to ghosts isn’t as cool as it sounds

Most would expect ghosts to hang around graveyards or abandoned buildings like a school, or a hospital, or a house- but no. They were everywhere

To be honest, it made sense. Why would a ghost want to hang around where they died? Thats just depressing

So, they wander. Following their loved ones. Trying to live an empty husk of their old life. Being fucking weird.

Which made it hard for you to tell the difference a lot of the time. Sometimes you’d talk to a person and they’d turn out to be a ghost!

Now you look crazy!

Like recently…

The sidewalks were virtually empty. It was getting late into the evening, and it made sense that people would head home. You yourself were making your way back to your apartment building when you spotted something….strange.

A girl. A little girl. She looked no older than…7 maybe? In all honesty you were never good guessing ages, but you knew enough to deduce that this kid was too young to be by herself. She looked around anxiously, her blonde pigtails moving every time she turned her head. Her hands fussed with the hem of her purple shirt that had a flower on it. It looked like she was looking for her parent.

You were- hesitant about walking over. A strange man approaching a child in the middle of the sidewalk looked sketchy, especially since you were nowhere near looking like this kid’s parents. But- you figured that if you didn’t, some actual creep would. So, you hesitantly stepped towards her.

“Heyyy…kid,” the girl flinched a little as you approached, making you regret your decision. Though, it was too late to turn back now so, “Uh- where’s your mom?..”

The girl blinked up at you and then looked away, hands still fidgeting with her shirt, “Away…” she sounded sad.

“Your dad?..” you raised an eyebrow.

“Also away..” she shrunk a little, this seemed like a touchy subject.

Picking up the vibe, you steered clear of parent related questions, “Are you…looking for someone? You look lost.”

She glanced up at you, and then back to her hands- her purple eyes welling with tears, “Y-Yeah…” she squeaked out.

“Well, maybe I can help you find them,” you knelt down to her height, “There aren’t a lot of people out right now, so it shouldn’t be too hard…do you remember what they look like?”

The girl nodded, “Uhh…two adults. Black hair. A boy with green eyes and a girl with pink eyes.”

Two black haired adults with green and pink eyes. Okay! Easy enough! Must be siblings…or babysitters….or….some third thing. You stood up, “Okay! Should be easy enough!” You held your hand out for the little girl, “My name is Y/N, what’s yours?”

The little girl studied your hand curiously, taking it with a small smile, “Nina!”

You and Nina searched for the adults she was supposed to be with, until you came across them sitting and eating in the outdoor area of a restaurant

You were…baffled. These people supposedly lost track of the kid they were supposed to be watching and decided to get something to eat???

You were reconsidering handing this kid over to them, but what were you going to do? Take her to the authorities? You didn’t exactly trust pigs around this kid either, so you approached the table

The pair looked at you with hostility, the man reading a paper and the woman poking it in boredom. You were clearly interrupting something. Maybe they hadn’t noticed Nina…

“Uhm- sorry if I’m interrupting anything..” you stammered, “But, I think you lost something?..” you nodded your head to where Nina was standing beside you.

Both black haired individuals narrowed their eyes at you, looks of confusion clear across their faces.

“What the fuck are you on about?…” the woman’s eyes narrowed.

You felt yourself grow flushed with embarrassment, Nina hasn’t said anything or run to hug either of these individuals….it also felt like she wasn’t holding your hand anymore…

You glanced down at your side, and lo and behold- Nina was gone. You whipped around, looking around like a mad man for the kid.

“Wh- what the?” Your eyes widened and you held out your hands defensively, “I swear there was a kid here!”

The man leaned towards the woman, whispering to her loud enough for you to hear, “You have your gun on you, right?..” the woman nodded.

Shit! Okay! Sweat poured down your face as you nervously looked around some more to avoid getting shot, “I-I swear! There was a kid here, about like….7? Maybe younger? Blonde pigtails, purple shirt with a flower on it,” you didn’t notice both individuals eyes widen, “Her name was Nina—“

“WHO TOLD YOU THAT NAME?!” The woman grabbed you by your shirt collar, pulling you close. She stared daggers at you, looking ready to kick you in the groin before shooting you dead. You gulped.

“Ashley!” The man slammed the newspaper down, reprimanding her to let you go. Ashley obliged, though turned away and grumbled. The man gave her a final glare before looking at you, “I’m sorry about her,” he had a calm demeanor…but there was something uneasy about his voice, “You said…Nina?”

You nodded, “Yeeaahhh, but I’m starting to realize that…might’ve just been a ghost. Whoops.” You held out your hands anxiously.

“Dumb bitch is still following you around?” Ashley muttered under her breath.

You turned your attention to her, “I’m sorry what?”

“Don’t mind her,” the man smiled uneasily, “I’m Andrew…now- what the fuck did you mean by ‘might’ve been a ghost’? Is this a…regular occurrence?”

“Kinda..” you rubbed the back of your neck nervously, “I kind have this sixth sense. Some people have increased empathy, I can talk to body detached spirits!” You looked Andrew and Ashley over, “Did you- know this Nina?”

“No!” They both said in perfect unison, Ashley seemingly offended while Andrew was very defensive. They clearly knew her, but you weren’t going to press any further.

“Oooookkaayyyyyy..” you adverted your gaze from their terrifying…yet alluring…ones.

You wanted to run away and hopefully never run into these people again, but they were insistent on keeping you in sight

However they knew this Nina, it was something serious.

Ashley didn’t seem to take the fact that she was still following them around very well

Andrew consistently had to calm her down from making a scene

And truthfully….watching them banter was fun

You’d idly stare at the pair, going back and forth with empty threats and remarks the other would make about those threats. It was fun. It was nice

Andrew decided it was best to keep in touch with you, given you running into Nina- though how he said it made it seem like the two had multiple dead people that would be tailing them

You didn’t say this out loud though

The more time you spent with the siblings, your theory became correct

You slowly noticed more and more spirits hanging around the three of you: A scorned looking middle aged woman with similars eyes to Andrew’s, a hooded man with his limbs floating behind him, another hooded man with thick sunglasses and a mask that obscured his face- you could go one.

You never talked with these ghosts, really the only one you did speak to was Nina- though Ashley didn’t like it when you two spoke. She didn’t like Nina in general

If she caught you talking with her, or making motions to indicate she was around- Ashley would spew profanities and horrible things til she went away

It was cruel…and you kind of hated her for it at first

Though the more time you spent with the siblings, you came to realize that they were just….broken individuals

Terrible people put into shitty circumstances

It was almost…disheartening

If things had been different, would they have turned out better? The same? Worse?

It hurt your heart more than you wanted to admit…

You knew your feelings towards these two, at first you assumed it to be just fleeting physical attraction- I mean- look at them!

But no- turns out spending time with people increased your attraction to them. Who knew!

You like to think at least one of them felt the same

You knew the whole reason they kept you around was to keep an eye on you, make sure you didn’t know anything you shouldn’t have

At least at first it was

Andrew was the first to catch feelings for you

His love of the macabre led to conversations, questions on if you’ve ever spoken with ghosts of poets or writers he was interested in

He didn’t have to know you totally lied when you said yes

Unfortunately you had to read up on old English poets in case he asked about them, but it was a worthy sacrifice

He was just happy to have someone to talk to about an interest that wouldn’t make fun of him

Ashley didn’t take too kindly to this, which is why she fell slower

She didn’t buy any of your kindness, acting distant and cold with you- especially as you got closer with Andrew

It was also causing tension between the two, you could just guess it

So you took the initiative, deciding to spend the day just you and Ashley

Ashley was going to spend the day with you whether she liked it or not…and right now it was looking like a not. Since you two arrived at the park, she hadn’t said a word to you. The only response you would get is a cold shoulder or an icy glare that cut like a knife. It was a little painful to be honest. You never wanted to piss her off or make her hate you, genuinely you wanted to get closer to her. But Ashley was proving to be difficult…

“Sky sure is pretty today!” You said, attempting to break the awkward and tense silence. It did not work, as Ashley continued to ignore you. You wanted nothing more than to book it into the nearby duck pond and just drown, putting this awkward attempt at bonding.

You were walking down a trail, Ashley actively stepping on the cracks as she walked. In the corner of your eye you spotted the familiar spirit of the middle aged woman. Her lighter green eyes narrowing at Ashley.

“What are you looking at?” Ashley’s voice pierced the silence like a katana. You blinked down at her, her eyes narrowed up at you.

“Uhhh,” you glanced at the ghost, “Just a ghost hanging around.”

“Who?”

Holy crap she’s actually talking to you! Don’t fuck this up…

“I haven’t really spoken with her..uh- black hair. Green eyes. Middle aged..” you shrugged your shoulders.

That was apparently the wrong answer- as most of your responses to Ashley were- as she clammed up. This time with more anger. Her eyes darted in the direction you’d been looking in, trying to give the ghost a death glare. Must be another person the siblings had history with, given how similar she looked to them they must be related.

Hmmm….maybe this could be put to your advantage?…

“You know I can talk with ghosts…” you said rather nonchalantly, “I could…deliver a message to this ghost if you want..”

Ashley’s eye seemed to light up at that. For the first time since meeting her, you think you said the right thing.

Ashley’s message to the ghost woman, and any other you came across, was vulgar and worthy of eating soap if you were to repeat it to a living person

A lot of use of the word “hussy” and “cunt”

But you delivered every message, informed Ashley when a ghost was staring at her….minus Nina of course

A ghost child is still a child, and she seemed like too good of a kid to be in the front of Ashley’s wrath

But Ashley didn’t need to know that

For once, she seemed to genuinely enjoy your company. Describing you as “pretty alright” to Andrew

Success!

From then things felt…less tense between the three of you

You were less of a hostage to them and more of a friend

And if you played your cards right….eventually you might be more

[taldigi]

I uh went back to that dadske post and was going add a few more tags for flavor or context but I wrote toooo much so I'll just post as a text post instead. Yes, this is my hyperfixation and yes!! I do want to make my blorbo sad and miserable as all hell but I also need him to be loved relentlessly and made whole by his friends.

anyway Yuuko got her hair from her mother- and Yosk lets his hair return back to black because the wife hated him dying it. you can only handle so many years of being addressed as a disappointment before latching onto the fist person to express otherwise. (3 for 3! Get Saki'd, idiot!) then working too hard to do ANYTHING please that person (even though they might not really be the best person and are using you)

Go on boy, ditch your weird friends and your hobbies and things that make you happy and settle for the stable but soulless option of being a manager at a job you hate! (I am a firm believer in a "Manager of Junes Yosuke NOT good enrichment" after all.) Cause all thats embarrassing. dont you want me to be proud of you? The only person who's ever loooved you for you? (which is fundamentally untrue but when has depression or manipulation ever been rational?)

n/e/way one nasty divorce later and he's moving back to inaba for the cheaper rent for a place a that can actually fit him and a kid- and to be closer to his parents- hoping that maybe they would able to help out with the kid. Besides, he has an assured position at the Inaba junes. (the prodigal prince returns... return of the king... of junes)

BUT Surprise his friends are still there and Yu is too!! and yeah they're mad cause he basically evaporated but guess what? Yoosk isn't Yoosk anymore cause he's been drained of all his Yosuke colors.

"I spent years in a bad relationship and all I got was this lousy t-shirt... and a bad haircut and the total eclipse of my personality by the creature who steals my face when I perform customer service!”

I need Chie to try and fall into her usual banter and be met with... that and for her to grab Yu by the shoulders and shake him “Hes BROKEN FIXITFIXITFIXIT" and Yu having no direct answer because how can he help someone who's totally closed off?

Well, he can start through small things and reminders and food and Yuuko, which is proof that he's still there somewhere? After all, she's named after him.

I also need.... not JUST souyo but also the whole IT. Teddie and his niece bonding, Yosuke crying in some kind of relief and/or happiness when Kanji helps him dye his hair back again, Naoto helping him keep custody (so hard for a guy!!!) and Chie finally getting her usual banter back (thank god!) only for Yuuko to step up and kick Chie and forcing Yoosk to admit that what he and Chie have isn't antagonism (via explaining it to her)

Rise: *gentle gasp when she sees Yuuko* Tiny Yosuke. Yukiko, slamming her hand on the table and wheezing loudly: YOU'RE RIGHT.. SHE IS A TINY YOSUKE!!!!!!!!!!!!! and then they gift her strawberry hairpins which she loves and it embarrasses him because oh god thats right-

Yu having to confront Yuuko's energy and be like "aw shit Nanako was easy in comparison" and Yosuke looking him dead in the eyes "I'm giving everything in order for her not to turn out like Nanako" which sounds bad at first (cause it's foot in mouth disease Yosuke still) but...

"What happened to 'partner', Yosuke?" "I don't think I deserve that, after disappearing and everything, huh?" & then Yu being too damn happy and giddy when it finally slips out.

anyway, I apologize for nothing. ur the one who read thru the Indulgent asf au/story concept. throws self out window and books it down the street.

[suzukiblu]

WIP snippets: Tim/Kon!!! :)

"You told Arrowette you'd be a good boy while she was gone, didn't you?" Robin reminds him, licking his lips, and oh no, Kon thinks with no small amount of dread. "So be good for me."

"That is really not what she meant by that," Kon says hopefully not as feebly as he feels like he's saying it. Just–hopefully.

"She did explicitly say you should make out with me," Robin also reminds him. Kon is very, very uncomfortable with this situation. In several ways, is Kon uncomfortable with this situation.

"Yeah, well, that's because you're currently all jacked up on love spell mind control or whatever and think you want me to," he says. "Not actually a great makeout motivator, in my personal opinion."

"I might be. Or maybe I just wanted everyone else to leave the two of us alone for a little while," Robin murmurs lowly, which is admittedly something he would be insane enough to do, actual literal freak that he is, but also Kon isn't completely stupid, thanks.

"You definitely are," he says.

"Don't you like the attention, kid?" Robin says coaxingly, stroking a hand down his cheek, and Kon grimaces a little bit more than he wants to let himself grimace.

"Dude," he says. "I know you're kinda compromised right now but could you not be an asshole about me being–whatever, never mind, just–"

Robin . . . frowns, faintly. His fingers still against Kon's face.

"About you being what?" he asks.

"Just–I know I'm easy, alright, you don't have to rub it in," Kon says just a little tightly, and tries not to grit his teeth. Although yeah, well, that whole thing does explain why bespelled/drugged/whatever Robin picked him of all people to fixate on. Obviously. Bat-training and all, going for the weak link. Just . . .

He wishes it didn't, he guesses.

That's all.

"Superboy," Robin says, still just barely frowning.

"Look, it's fine, I mean obviously that's why you picked me to jump, just–" Kon says, and struggles to say, and just . . . and just . . . "I don't care if you think I'm a whore or whatever. Just please stop saying things you think will get me to be fucked up enough to literally assault you, okay?"

"I picked you because you're my favorite," Robin says.

Kon . . . blinks.

"What?" he says.

"You're my favorite," Robin says. "And I trust you. You'll make it good. You won't hurt me."

"Shut up," Kon chokes, because yeah, Robin lies all the time, but that lie . . .

That's not fucking fair.

Not that lie.

"You're my best friend," Robin tells him softly, stroking his face again.

Kon wants to kill somebody. Ideally whoever fucked up Robin's brain on the mind control maybe-drugs, but maybe he won't be that picky, if it actually comes down to it.

"I don't even know what you look like without that mask on," he says. "Or your name. Or anything about you that isn't superhero shit."

"And you're my best friend," Robin repeats.

Kon might tell him how absolutely fucking depressing that sounds, but it's not like he has room to talk about having a non-hero life. That is pretty much the literal opposite of what he has room to talk about, in fact.

"You're my best friend too," is what he's stupid enough to say instead, even though Robin's just lying to him because he's all fucked up right now and would probably say any stupid thing that'd get him goddamn laid. "And I'm definitely not gonna hurt you."

"I know," Robin says, and smiles, and leans down to kiss him.

Kon lets him.

Then he gets his TTK around the grapple line wrapping him up and fucking snaps it around Robin's body while the other's distracted.

"Ah!" Robin hisses. Kon shoves him off his lap; keeps a grip on the grapple line and Robin both with his TTK. Keeps him still with his TTK.

He fucking hates that Robin smiled at him like that when it was a lie.

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Just a little angst, and Taweret being a big ol' softie!

A/N: After a billion years--finally! I promise I haven't forgotten this fic I swear you guys, my mental health has just been... so so bad 😭😭😭 This chapter is going to mostly be filler and some dialogue as I try to get back into the swing of writing for the boys after so long stewing in my own depression

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @lillycore555 @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts

Chapter 16:

Moon River

"So, just to be clear..." Steven asked, his hands clasped around the tiny muffin you'd given him. "You're... you're okay with..." He moved his hand around his face, gesturing to himself a little comically.

You giggled at his silly gesture; and nod as you guide him through your shop, past the maze-like bookshelves. He had been at your apartment for a good several hours, even long after he (Marc's?) laundry was done and he had changed. You didn't mind at all--it was nice. And having a sort-of explanation as to the boys' identity situation was something nice.

And you'd be lying if you weren't happy it had been a welcome thing, learning more about them. Even with how often they came to your shop to speak with you, they were still mysterious in some ways. And you were grateful for them beginning to trust you enough to let you in. You could tell it wasn't easy for them--any of them--to just... let people in.

"Yes, Steven." You finally said, "I'm okay with everything that's going on with you."

Steven's shoulders sagged with relief as he nibbled his muffin--much like a gerbil, which you thought was adorable--and muttered; "M'kay... was worried because... y'know. Most people would call a looney bin and toss me in?"

"And people who do that instead of trying to understand someone and accept their mental health--no matter how... odd it is--are horrible people." You explained, frowning. "You--Marc, and Jake included--are my friends. I wouldn't be a very good one if I tossed you in a padded room and wiped my hands of it."

He gave you a sheepish smile, his brown eyes lighting warmly, "Yeah, yeah. You're a... a really good person."

You patted his shoulder and looked outside, "You are too, Steven. Seriously. I mean it, sweetie. Now... if you and your muffin don't wanna get soaked... I suggest you hurry home, now." Your eyes twinkle as you continued; "Or you'll have to run between the raindrops."

Steven laughed softly, "...Thank you."

You reached out, almost on instinct, and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. It was so natural in the moment that it shocked you. The action brought a bit of--well, embarrassment and surprise and you cleared your throat--you and Steven both glancing away from each other as you dropped your hand away from him.

"I... I'll see you later." He peeped, a bit of color rising in his cheeks.

"Yeah--yeah!" You laughed awkwardly.

You facepalmed as the door closed behind him and he disappeared into the night (with you, of course, locking the door behind him). You looked down at Puck as she twined between your ankles, and huffed.

"Well... I guess I should start listening to you more often, huh? You knew who they were before they even told me!"

Puck gave you a long, slow blink and sat at your feet. As if in response to your question, she gave a long, loud meow.

"Mhmm." You chuckled, leaning down to give her a scratch behind her ear, "A wonderful judge of character, you little scamp."

As you disappeared between the shelves, Puck looked towards the counter where the register sat.

And, behind the counter, Khonshu stood, looking down at her with contempt. The fur on her spine rose and her ears flattened back as she began to growl.

"Hush, you contemptible little street urchin." He scoffed, stamping his staff.

"I will not harm your human companion. You may tell your mistress I intend no harm."

Puck hissed at him once before scampering off to follow you, leaving Khonshu's ominous, looming shadow to darken your shop. He hummed in thought.

He would keep this revelation to himself.

For now, this secret wasn't necessary to be revealed to Marc and the Worm. Though Jake Lockley was easily the most loyal of the three, he knew that telling Steven and Marc of this discovery may only drive a further wedge between himself and possibly one of the most useful Avatars he'd ever taken under his blessing, in order to protect you, and the other two sharing the body. And he could not allow that to happen.

Not when they still had so much work to accomplish.

Layla's fingers swiped across the marble counter, a look of nostalgia crossing her face as her hand pulled away with dust. Either Marc would come and clean the flat on his own, or he had someone else come do it.

If he'd left it completely empty, there would be a lot more dust.

A thin layer coated nearly everything in the flat. She hadn't used it since before she found out about Steven Grant. Gods, that felt like lifetimes ago, already.

Her eyes traced the few pictures lining the walls. The first picture she took with her old Polaroid camera; the morning after their first successful "rescued" artefact. A simple lazy day in a hotel bed, their hair messy and Marc half asleep, looking at the camera with bleary eyes...

Their wedding day.

So many memories. Happy, all of them. And it genuinely pained her when she and Marc ended it all. Mutually, yes, but still. He was a person who loved with his entire being, not just his heart.

But she knew full well now that Marc, Steven, and even Jake were all meant for you, from the very start.

Her fingers reached out to pluck the photo of them on their honeymoon off the wall, holding it with a fond smile on her face.

They went to France, for this one. Granted, yes, it was also for another mission Khonshu had sent them on, but Layla had convinced Marc that, what better place was there to spend their honeymoon than the City of Love itself? Marc had actually enjoyed it, despite declaring he wasn't having fun at the time, especially when she convinced him to try a rather stinky cheese.

Oh, the face he made! That was the picture she held now. His nose scrunched and his tongue sticking out of his mouth; hand blurred as it frantically reached for a napkin to spit in. And Layla, smiling as she got herself in the snapshot. Marc always had this thing for sniffing his food and drink before eating, maybe it was something that carried over with Steven? She remembered reading up in some article that some autistics would do that with food and drink.

Even back then, Steven was with them and she didn't even know it. When they first ran into problems, especially after finding the Scarab pointing to Ammit's ushabti. She'd moved out of the flat--storming off into a cold winter night and telling him to call her when he got his head out of his ass--and got a small one somewhere on the other side of town.

Apparently, it wasn't long after that that his mother, Wendy has passed away. She can't say she grieved for that woman's loss. The one time she met her, she was piss drunk and smelled like vomit; saying the most horrific things to Marc while he balled his fists and held in tears; his own father merely tucking his head in shame instead of defending their only (living) son.

Layla had enough that night. She remembered taking that bottle of bourbon and throwing it against the wall, shouting right back at Wendy about how abusive and cruel she was, how horrible of a mother she was. Layla had gotten so heated that she even shouted, "If Randall was alive today, he would be ashamed to even call you his mother! Treating his big brother that he loved so much like he's a piece of trash. Go to hell!"

She pulled Marc out by the hand and held him in her lap that night, letting him sob and cry into her fuzzy bath robe as the stress of the evening crashed down on him. He apologized for Wendy. He said it was once again, all his fault. That he never should have brought Layla to meet his family.

Layla remembered stroking his hair and telling him to stop. That Wendy was a horrible woman, she let her grief consume her instead of protecting and treasuring the son that she had left, she blamed him for everything bad in her life. Blamed him for Randall's death. Blamed him for her alcoholism. Blamed him for how much of a "freak" he became when he first began to disassociate and Steven would front. She would beat him relentlessly, call him an idiot for pretending to be the adventurer from his favorite film, Tomb Buster.

Marc did his best to treat those memories, to give Steven only the best so he didn't have to suffer, but once they died and went to the Duat, poor Steven learned the truth. But Marc only did what he could to protect him, Jake did, too, despite them not knowing about him yet--all because they loved each other.

She placed the picture back on the wall, her brows pinching slightly as the realization dawned on her. Why Marc kept the flat. Why he didn't tell her.

Marc Spector loved with his whole being, after all.

Keeping the flat, in a way, was a shrine. A shrine to his dedication and love. A shrine of guilt that he couldn't give Layla the marriage and love life she deserved. A shrine to all the memories they made together--even the bad ones. A shrine to his own perceived failures. His own self-hatred and guilt that had been hammered into his psyche by the very woman that had given him life in the first place.

She didn't realize she'd been crying until she felt the tears drip down her nose.

Marc suffered for so long, blamed himself for every bad thing in the world for so long, and thought he was undeserving of love. That all he did was hurt people. But that just wasn't true.

Marc was an endless pool of love, even if he didn't declare it with grand gestures. He showed it through things like bringing Layla her favorite treat (marshmallows) when she was sad. Helping her when her menstrual cramps would become unbearable on the last few days of her cycle. How he would have fun helping wrangle her curls into her bonnet for sleep; massaging her shoulders.

Trying to keep her out of harm's way and go after Ammit himself--so she wouldn't ever get hurt by Harrow and his people.

Layla wiped at her tears, moving to the tissue box by the telephone in the wall--Marc insisted on using things with buttons, the old fashioned goof--and dabbed her tears and blew her nose.

Marc, Steven, and Jake were so close. So, so close to getting what they truly deserved in life: the other half of their soul. She knew that you would love them back in return, your heart would burn so brightly for them that it would keep them warm even on their worst nights out in the cold. That you would be their torch in the dark of night when Khonshu's moon would fail to light their way.

But she couldn't just tell them. She had to wait, to let the four of you figure this out on your own. Forcing you together before you were ready would not end well, and she couldn't bear to see the boys--and you--hurting in any way.

"Are you alright, m'love?" Taweret's calming voice soothed, her large frame leaning down to peer at Layla with her dark, empathetic eyes. Her little ears wiggled and flapped out in worry, her fingers twitching to comfort her somehow.

Layla smiled, nodding almost hesitantly, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm... remembering, is all. And, I just... I hope they sort this out, soon. They need each other. So badly..."

Taweret sighed, cooing as she scooped Layla in her arms, holding her in a warm, protective embrace. Her large hands smoother over her back, caressing her in a comforting manner.

"Hush, my darling. I know, I know it's hard." The goddess murmured, "I know you wish to break down and tell them everything. I know it's hard knowing Jake doesn't want to tell the other two about her because he's scared. You just want what's best for them--and she is it."

"They deserve each other." Layla whispered, sniffling into her embrace. "I want them happy."

"Oh, but they are." Taweret pulled away, looking down at Layla. She swiped her thumb over her cheek to sweep away her tears.

"Don't you see? Even if Jake won't tell anything to them--even if Steven, Marc and that sweet darling girl don't know it, yet... They have been happier than they have been in a long time. No offense to your marriage, 'f course." She giggled apologetically.

Layla laughed suddenly; more of a hiccup really, as Taweret cupped her cheeks in her palms, locking eyes with her beloved Avatar, "Steven is opening up to someone new, Marc is letting his guard down. Jake is smiling more."

"Even if they don't know it yet," She spoke gently. "They are so very, very happy, just by having her near. And thanks to your help, it sort of fast tracked it all..."

Layla smiled up at her, her warm, dark eyes still swimming with tears as she sniffed. Taweret dabbed her cheeks with a fresh tissue, encouraging her to blow her nose afterwards before flicking her wrist and making it disappear in a flash of magical fire.

"Layla, you are their guardian angel. They love you so much. You are a huge part of their lives. That alone has pushed them through the darkest parts of their lives so far, and now, you will be here to comfort them as this all settles in."

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Anytime, love." Taweret said, planting her warm muzzle on Layla's skin to give a kiss to her forehead. A goddess who embodied motherhood simply could not ignore those very instincts, especially when it came to her Avatar.

As she vanished, Layla left the flat feeling refreshed--energetic even.

She had a good feeling about this. Things were finally looking up.

Chapter 17: Later this week? Maybe?