#(I mean Chuck's a dick too but that's different)

[icedteaandoldlace]

Pffft speak for yourself. I simply choose to hate his guts for all eternity, like a normal person. :)

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

A cosmic lightning bolt.

Yeah, if your ears operate she can give anyone a headache.

[mostly-imagines]

Dear God Get Out

jason todd x reader

aka not a moment of privacy

warnings: mild sexual activities, more people than jason would ever want in your apartment during those times

The second Jason’s through the door his arms are out, seeking to pull you into him. You let him engulf you in his arms without thought, this being the first time you’ve seen him all day.

“Missed you.” He mumbles into your shoulder.

You hum and rake your fingers through his hair. “I know, my love. Missed you too.”

He pulls back to look at you and holds your neck gingerly in his hands. “You’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod and kiss his collarbone softly, wrapping your hands around his forearms. He gives your forehead a kiss and walks you backwards to the couch, leaning down over you until you have to sit.

He follows you down and kisses your lips and guides you backwards to lay. He drapes himself over you, inserting himself between your legs. He refocuses his attention to your neck, and sucks at a very particular spot below your jaw that you know he targeted on purpose.

“Okay, that’s not fair.” You breathe out, halfway to a sigh.

“No? How ‘bout this?”

He nips at you, startling you to a near moan. Your reaction only encourages him, as he holds your jaw and tilts your head to the side for more access.

He slips his hand under your shirt, grazing the skin underneath. He leaves open kisses all across your collarbone, trailing them down your stomach once he has your top off and strewn half away across the room.

You stop him, pulling him back up to you for a kiss. He furrows his brows at first, only understanding when you start to pry at his shirt too. He removes it for you, tossing it with startling accuracy right by yours.

He resumes kissing down your body, hands trailing down your sides along with him. He peppers kisses on your thighs and hooks his fingers into the seam of your underwear, readying to remove them.

It’s almost astonishing how silently he'd managed to open the window only to stumble and flail his way to the floor.

The sudden clatter scares the hell out of both you and Jason, who jumps to a stand immediately.

“Tim!”

“Evening. D’you guys still have any—oh.” Tim finally regains his coordination and stands up to see you sprawled out on the couch, bra and underwear your only cover.

His eyes go to the floor real quick and Jason lets out an exasperated sigh, looking around for something nearby to cover you up with.

“—you know, wait up means wait up!”

Oh good, Dick’s here too.

You sit up quickly and try to cover yourself with your arms, though there’s not much of a difference you can really make.

Dick ducks in from the fire escape and lands significantly more gracefully than his counterpart had.

It takes him no time at all to assess the room and see you, knees to chest on the couch, trying very hard to appear as though you’re not half naked. Takes him even less time to see Jason, standing in front of you, fuming.

“Oh. Oops…”

Jason chucks the tv remote at Dick and uses the distraction to pull you up from the couch, pushing you behind him. His massive frame is more than enough to cover what his brothers have no business seeing.

“Get the fuck—”

And just for good measure, Damian jumps down next and crouches in the window.

“Jesus Christ,” your boyfriend mutters, hands covering his face in exasperation.

Damian takes one glance at the room and grimaces—Tim’s eyes are glued to the floor, Dick’s acting as though there’s something very interesting on the ceiling, and Jason’s shirtless. He can’t quite see you behind Jason, though he doesn’t need to in order to guess what he’d just walked in on.

“Ugh, seriously Todd? That’s disgusting.”

You let your forehead hit Jason’s back, thoroughly embarrassed. He reaches back to caress your waist, and you know somewhere in that action there’s a reassurance that he’s going to get them out as soon as humanly possible.

“Yeah, seriously. This is our apartment, demon brat. Get out.”

“Maybe we should come back later…” Dick suggests, more awkward than in his usual character.

Jason glares up at the heavens. “Or never.”

“At least keep it in the bedroom, you animals.” Damian chastises.

Jason suddenly wishes he hadn’t thrown the remote so soon. “Our apartment.”

He looks back at you without moving the shield of his body, eyes apologetic. You meet gaze and turn your head to rest your cheek on him instead, your own hidden meaning of reassurance. It’s fine.

You can’t see them but you hear a shuffle and hope to god it’s not another vigilante.

You place a hand on Jason’s lower back and peer around his shoulder, seeing Tim turned back around towards the window and trying desperately to get Damian to move out of the way—Damian, seemingly having no regard for Tim’s urgency.

You’re not quite sure if it’s over discomfort or embarrassment in seeing you so undressed, or if it’s because his self-preservation kicked in when he saw the look on Jason’s face. Maybe both. Probably both.

Both.

“Will you stop?” Damian slaps his hand away. “We came here for a reason.” He looks past Tim at you, “Do you have—”

“No.” Jason cuts in, growing visibly more agitated.

Damian’s face contorts as he looks back up to Jason, “What is your—”

Now Dick cuts in, “Okay, that’s fine, we’ll just ask the old man.”

“Great.”

Dick pauses. “On the couch though, Jaybird?”

Jason takes a deep breath.

“Alright, ten seconds, then I get the gun taped under the table.”

That’s warning enough for Damian—he’s called that bluff once before and learned the hard way.

Tim doesn’t even take a second glance before hauling it out of your apartment, his cape getting caught on the window frame briefly before he scrambles away.

Dick calls out an apology to you before trailing out the window after him.

Jason lets out a heavy exhale and turns to you, hands gliding naturally to your waist.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t need to be.”

He gives a low hum and wraps his arms around you, pulling you down with him as he crashes down onto the sofa.

“Should I feel bad about almost railing you into the couch?”

“I wouldn’t waste any tears over it. Not like it would’ve been the first time we did it.”

He laughs and tugs you further into his chest. You curl into him and close your eyes, thinking.

“Jay?”

“Hm?”

“How did Tim survive as Robin?”

“I’ve been asking that question for years.”

reblog or 🚫

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare. 

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand. 

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being. 

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost

[freedomfireflies]

hi bestie, can i request smth where harry is filming dwd and olivia keeps trying to get at harry and hit on him but he denies her every time and one day where reader comes to set she and harry are both in harry’s trailer but olivia doesn’t know reader is there so she tries hitting on harry again and starts saying rlly inappropriate things and reader hears and puts her in her place and says that if she ever talks to harry in a way other than a precessional way she’ll expose her or something? idk if that made sense haha and harry gets all happy and is like you are my lord and savior 😭 can you make reader a really bad bitch 😭😭 💕

Hi! Yes, so, I’m changing things a bit because I’m personally not a super big fan of bringing Olivia herself into this kind of stuff but I’m absolutely keeping the premise!! Just changing the antagonist to someone fictional instead! Obviously you can still picture her if you’d like but I hope this will be okay and that whoever asked will still enjoy 😭💞

“‘I know exactly where you can stick that can of tuna, Jack-ass.’”

Harry smirks, eyes peering over the top of his script at you. “The line is, ‘Hi, honey, welcome home.’”

“Oh. Weird. I must have gotten a different script cause mine definitely says the other thing,” you reply innocently, batting your eyelashes as he exhales a soft laugh. “Yeah, see…right there. Jack. Ass.”

“Oh, it does, does it?”

“It does. Strange, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Very.”

You bite at your lip to refrain from grinning as you return your eyes to the page. “Okay, well…I think you’re good for tomorrow’s scene. I mean, it’s kind of all about her, anyway, so…no one will really be paying attention to you.”

“Gee, thanks,” he snorts as he straightens up on the small couch, tossing the script to the side.

“Hey, am I wrong?” You blink. “Hello. Florence fucking Pugh is in the same frame, I guarantee you nobody is looking at you.”

“Oh, well, I’m flattered,” he retorts, hand coming up to his chest in faux appreciation. “No, really. Give me another compliment. I think I’m blushing.”

Your eyes roll playfully as you gingerly chuck a water bottle at him. It flies across the tiny trailer and whacks him in the stomach as he flinches, laughing as it falls into his lap. “Hysterical. Truly,” you bite back. “Been a movie star for five minutes and think you’re the shit.”

He tosses his arms along the back of the couch, settling in a bit further as he nods at you. “S’been at least ten minutes, love.”

“Right, and to this day, iCarly is still your best work.”

“…you know what, I’m not even gonna argue with you on that one. I really did shine.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Sucked the shit out of that water bottle.”

“You really did.”

“Oscar-worthy, I’d say.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

He eyes you from his spot, sensing your teasing tone, and before you can clock his sneaky intentions, he’s lifting the water bottle into the air, twisting off the cap, and flinging the water at you.

You gasp as the water effectively drenches your hair, face, and chest. You attempt to shield yourself by throwing your arms up, but it’s too late, and Harry lets out a deep, guttural laugh. 

“Oh, you dick,” you squeal, immediately standing as you throw him a peeved look. “See, this is why I don’t take you home to my mother.”

He’s wearing a shit-eating grin as he watches you scramble to the bathroom. “Oops.”

“Oops my ass.” You attempt to wring some of the water out of your hair as you glance at your reflection in the tiny mirror. “I can’t go out there and let Chris Pine see me like this!”

Another laugh. “Why not?”

“Because I love him and I have mascara dripping down my face,” you huff, swiping a knuckle under your eye. “Oh, God, this is bad. Okay, gimme five, I gotta reset.”

“Babe,” he calls with another chuckle. “You look fine—”

“Bite me!” you retort quickly before slamming the door shut. “Shit! Where’s my setting powder?”

You hear him snort to himself from the other side but soon turn your attention back to the canvas that he so elegantly ruined.

It had taken you twenty minutes to get the eyeliner wing this sharp.

You frown as you get to work, and for the next couple of minutes, your focus remains on your own reflection as you hear Harry humming to himself on the couch.

And then…the humming stops.

“Hey…?”

“Hey, so sorry to bother you. I just wanted to check in before you leave, make sure you’re doing all right with the revisions.”

You pause, leaning a bit closer to the door as a second voice enters the trailer.

“Oh…yeah. Went over it this afternoon. I like it, it sounds good. I think it’ll be really impactful.”

“Oh, good. Good, yeah. Yeah, I’m really looking forward to watching you and Florence bring it to life. I’ve said it before, but we really are just so lucky to have you both on board.”

You finally recognize the voice, placing it to the face of the film’s director, Angela. And now that your curiosity is satisfied, you return to your task as the conversation continues to slip underneath the door.

“Hey, it’s all thanks to your vision,” Harry is humbly responding. “I just feel lucky to be a part of it.”

A bit of silence as you swipe your lipstick along your bottom lip before you hear the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs and into the trailer.

“You’re such a doll. No, really, that’s such a kind to say,” Angela gushes. “You know…this whole casting process was really just…it was so stressful there for a minute but after I saw your audition tape, I just knew you’d be our Jack.”

“Listen, I’m just glad it worked out the way it did. It’s kind of nice to dip my toe into this side of the industry and I’ve got a lot of really great mentors to help me along.”

“Oh, absolutely. I mean, we just have such a fantastic cast. You’re in great hands.”

A beat.

“And, you know, I’ve said this before but…if you ever need anything at all, you just need to let me know,” Angela says. “You’re my top priority, and I want to make sure you feel taken care of.”

“Thanks, that’s really—”

Suddenly, it goes quiet. Far too quiet and for a moment, you wonder if they’ve left the trailer altogether.

You step out of the bathroom and glance both ways, just to check and make sure he didn’t leave you behind.

But instead of an empty trailer, you find Harry.

And Angela.

And her tongue.

Down his throat.

Your eyebrows just about fly off your forehead as you clear your throat and call, “I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

Terrified, and a bit pale, Harry leans back and catches your eye, expression frazzled like a deer caught in headlights.

Angela, however, is a bit slower to remove herself from his body, finally stepping back with a bit of a wounded smile. “Oh, my gosh…I’m so sorry. This…this isn’t how I wanted you to find out, I—”

“Find what out?” you ask just as Harry says, “I’m sorry, what?”

She quickly looks between you both, palm hovering over her mouth as if stunned. “Oh! I’m…I’m sorry, I thought you told her.”

“Told me what?” you repeat, stepping closer, and looking to Harry.

Poor thing looks like he’s about to keel over.

“About…our…arrangement,” she answers shyly, and your eyes narrow.

Harry blinks. “We…what? What arrangement, I—”

“Oh. That arrangement. Got it,” you cut in, nodding as you finally put the pieces together.

Both Harry and Angela turn to look at you, surprised. 

“Yeah,” you agree, taking another step as you meet her eye. “Yeah, no. Florence told me about this thing you do where you try to fuck your actors and exploit them for fame. Oh, and how your entire marriage is a sham, and you’re trying to get out of it by pretending you were the innocent, bad-ass feminist just trying to do her job when you were blackmailed into sleeping with your costar.”

She swallows as Harry’s jaw nearly drops.

“Oh, she also told me that if I were to find you…arranging yourself on my man, then I should remind you of section 15, paragraph 3 of the contract you signed,” you add, arms crossing over your chest. “Does that…ring any bells?”

Her cheeks flush. “Look, I wasn’t trying to—”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “But you did, and now you’re done. Thank you so much for stopping by. Buh-bye now.”

And with that, you gesture toward the door. 

A rather petrified Angela stands to her feet, knees a bit wobbly as she makes her way for the exit.

And just before she can close the door, you call, “Oh, and just a little tip…when you see the officers? Don’t run.”

The door slams shut before you have the chance to see her expression but something tells you…it was everything.

Now, you turn to Harry, still glued to the small sofa. “Anything you have to say for yourself?”

He straightens up, nearly tripping over his tongue as he begins to explain, “I promise, I don’t know what happened, she just put her hand on my thigh and suddenly it was, like, all the way up my thigh, and her mouth was like…right there, and I didn’t know what to do, and I wasn’t sure what was even happening, or if it was part of the script or something, and I—”

You close the gap between you and take his face between your palms. “Harry?”

He winds down to a stop. “…yeah?”

You grin. “I love you.”

Utter relief floods his features as he sighs and melts back into the cushions. “I love you, too. Thank you, by the way. Ironically, she tasted like canned tuna.”

You laugh as you flop down beside him, whacking at his chest on the way down. “Ew. Poor Nick.”

“Right? iCarly would never do this to me.”

For a moment, you can only chuckle, and despite the rather interesting turn of events…you can’t deny your joy.

“No,” you agree with a grin. “No, she would not.”

~ Full Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

[plzu]

crushed croissant - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part seven← ☕️ series masterlist ☕️ ao3

a/n: getting to explore the difference in headspace of both adrian and reader in one chapter is soooo much fun summary: Vigilante is too busy with the Task Force to visit you at work. But when he finally does, he tells you everything he's been up to. You're not sure you like his stories very much. warnings: mentions of canon-accurate violence, the word "rapey" is used once, cheating in a broad/general sense (as in it might not be considered cheating to some, but would be to others), no y/n wordcount: 5.2k

Something in the air at home has definitely shifted. You've been waiting for your mother to snap. To blow up. Surely the fuse of her anger is due to erupt, explode in a fury where she hurls insults at you. It's long overdue, anyway.

But when you see your father sitting in the living room, or at the kitchen table, head hung in despair over a glass of whiskey, you get the sense your mother hasn't been home much.

Your dad has barely spared you a second glance since the day he yelled at you. Like all the fight has left his body, like he can't bring himself to care after your mother's own blasé comments that morning.

Maybe this -- plus your mother's seemingly sudden absence from home -- should be concerning. But there's this tentative fluttering hope in your chest over the tiniest taste of this newfound freedom that you haven't had since moving back to Evergreen. Like you can finally roam around your parent's house without trying to avoid them.

You still err on the side of caution, of course. But still. Being able to venture into the kitchen for a cup of coffee in the mornings without the heart rate of someone being hunted for sport has been a nice, welcome change of pace.

Maybe actual licensed therapists would disagree, but Adrian found blowing shit up in the woods with his BFF pretty therapeutic. Especially after said BFF has been in prison for several years with zero means of communication from the outside world.

Something about the morass underfoot, wet dead leaves sticking to the soles of his boots. That same soft earth cushioning his fall as he flung himself away from exploding dynamites (chucked by Peacemaker, aimed directly at him! Classic). Shooting various holes into appliances and shattering the glass of old blenders and coffee carafes, a riot and a comfort, the raucous laughter of two grown men being drowned out by explosions and swallowed up by the canopy of the tall trees.

It gave Adrian an adrenaline rush, the kind he can only feel as Vigilante. It reassured him that his place in Peacemaker's life was not being threatened. There's still space for him, this easy camaraderie. They still make a badass team.  

A badass team that still brings chicks back to Chris’ trailer that they can share, apparently. 

Adrian has never taken issue with bedding babes with Chris. 

He's always careful to keep the Vigilante mask on, makes sure everyone involved knows not to even think about trying to touch his face. Getting his dick touched now and then offered a sweet relief, even if the main reason he was even hard to begin with was because Christopher Smith was involved.

Mostly, though, Adrian just appreciated whatever bonding time he could get in with Peacemaker. It was one of those things that, in the beginning, was something he agreed to in order to grow closer with the man he’s looked up to since he was a kid, and show him that  Vigilante is a real bro’s bro deserving of his respect. Earn his spot as the cool, kickass partner Peacemaker deserved. Well, besides Eagly, of course.  

(And getting to show off how far he's come since his 'Thimble' days, even if Chris doesn't know it's Adrian under the mask, was a nice bonus, too.)

And so while Vigilante should have no qualms with sharing some brunette that Chris invited back to his trailer (which, like, totally understandable after being locked up for so long), it is Adrian that hesitates.

“I don't know if I can do this, man.”

Chris snorts as the uncertainty in his voice. “What, did you get a girlfriend or something while I was gone?” He smirks as if such a suggestion could only be a joke. 

Vigilante looks at him. Hasn’t Chris read his texts since being back? Or listened during their special bonding time blowing shit up in the woods? “Dude, I told you! There’s the barista I've been seeing.”

“What? So? Did you guys have the talk?”

“Dude,” he giggles. “We both know where babies come from.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Not that talk, dipshit. Did you two establish a relationship? A monogamous one?”

Adrian thinks about the quiet way you called him your best friend. He also thinks about the way you've only ever touched each other with clothes on.

The way none of this establishes any sort of relationship beyond friends with benefits. Even if those benefits just leave him stiff in his jeans.

“I... guess not,” he answers Chris, a little unsure.

“Then you can still bone whoever you want, dude,” says Chris, the near-constant impatience clear in his tone. 

“I'm not gonna force you, obviously, because that would be fucked up and rapey,” he continues, straight-faced, throwing his hands up defensively. “But there is a hot, underappreciated woman waiting for us to show her the best railing she's probably had in months. Honestly, maybe even years. That Evan guy doesn’t seem to realize how good he has it. So I'm heading inside to deliver multiple, mind-blowing orgasms, and you're free to join. Or not!”

Chris disappears inside his trailer, and Adrian is left outside with Eagly, who just stares up at him with its round, yellow eyes.

“What do you think I should do, Eagly?”

The large bird says nothing. Just cocks its white feathered head before tottering off the porch and flying away.

Adrian sighs. 

There was this slightly turbulent, uncomfortable feeling at the idea that sleeping with someone would somehow be a betrayal to you. But Chris' words eases some of that worry, once again enlightening Adrian in only the way Christopher Smith can. You and Adrian have not  established any sort of relationship beyond the PG-13 makeout sessions and hanging out at bars and fast food joints. And Adrian is no stranger to hooking up with people in a no-strings attached kind of way. Moreso as Vigilante with Peacemaker, sure, but Adrian has had his fair share of one-night stands purely for the occasional sexual relief.

As special as spending time with you is, way more special than any past random hook-ups Adrian’s had, he has to remember that you two are just friends.

And so, with a clear conscience, he steps into Chris’ trailer.

Going days without seeing Adrian's bare, open face is making you feel... withdrawal symptoms. Dramatic? Maybe. But the firecracker pops of color he usually brings with him has been scant, making the dreary monochrome of Evergreen bleed back into the cafe. It turns you slump-shouldered and sullen.

“Hey.”

Emerging from the bitter clouds of your thoughts and into the mundane early evening of the cafe, you blink back to reality and watch Ashe's concerned face come into focus.

“Is everything okay?” Their tone carries the worried weight of someone approaching a wild, wounded animal.

Are you wounded?

Well.

It feels like there hasn’t been anytime for you anymore, now that this Peacemaker guy is back. And it hurts, admittedly. Which is stupid, and you feel bad about it because of course Adrian is going to want to catch up with an old friend that he hasn’t seen in years. So the pain of your guilt over your selfish feelings hurts, too. 

But you haven't had the chance to feel the warmth of his touch since the night that changed everything, and it’s startling to realize how much you’ve come to rely on it for your sanity. The longer you go without the feel of his heat pressed against you, the colder the days seem to leave you.

Realizing you haven't responded to Ashe yet, you force out a non-commital grunt and continue stocking and reorganizing the pastries for tomorrow.

This, for whatever reason, does not convince Ashe that everything is, in fact, okay. Their voice lowers into that of delicate understanding.

“Did you and Adrian... break up?” They grimace, seemingly afraid of the answer. “He hasn't stopped by lately.”

True. Adrian hasn’t been by to visit during the day. No more quick hellos before his shift at Fennel Fields starts. Just late night visits from Vigilante instead, before he runs off to his other best friend.

Your head snaps to face Ashe again. “We're not-” you start, but then clamp your jaw shut. An insecure clack of your teeth. You look away, avoiding their gaze. “It’s not like that with Adrian.”

“Sure,” they say, but in a tone that very clearly implies they're just entertaining you.

“Why do you even ask?” There’s more bite to the question than you intended, but Adrian as a topic right now is extracting some venom you didn't think Ashe would ever be on the receiving end of.

But Ashe doesn't seem perturbed in the slightest. Probably because they were the most patient and understanding person you've ever met, something you constantly marvel at considering their young age.

“Well,” they delicately--but persistently--tug at the corner of the packaged pastry currently suffocating in your fist. Your fingers unfurl to reveal crinkled plastic encasing a crushed croissant. “It just seems like you're back to the way you were before Adrian started coming around.”

You frown as Ashe tears open the plastic. The baked, buttery scent of bread infiltrates your nostrils. “How was I?” you mumble, voice notably softer. “Before Adrian, I mean.”

“Mm,” Ashe tears off a piece of the flaky croissant and pops it into their mouth. “Miserable. Grumpy.”

“You’re not supposed to eat that.”

“Not like we can sell it to a customer after your death grip.” They pull another piece into their mouth. Their dark eyes shine with kindness and curiosity, unphased by your halfhearted attempt at playing the stern manager.

Ashe is right, though. You were miserable and grumpy. Honestly, it's hard to remember anything about who you were as a person before Adrian reappeared in your life. When you try to seriously think back, it's nothing but bleak, mundane memories.

Truthfully, you had just been a shell of a person.

The excitement of successfully landing a manager position at the cafe had worn off fairly quickly once the stress of customers wore you down. Sure, it wasn't as bad here as it was when you'd worked at a drive-thru Starbucks location back in college. But the cafe was still fairly new enough to garner the attention of coffee aficionados and people that were just bored with all the things in town that they already knew about.

And there was nothing to alleviate the stress of customer service, not when the home you'd go back to every night was another huge source of anxiety.

You tried to numb yourself to it all, you realize. A defense mechanism. It can't hurt if you didn't let it, so you hollowed yourself out.

But then Adrian recognized you. He could have just come in that one day, gotten that large iced Americano and left forever (no way he would have come back to the less-than-stellar customer service you were doling out). But he said your name and remembered who you were and as terrifying as that should have been, you entertained his recognition.

Because it was him. Adrian Chase. No one of consequence, at the time. Who could the weirdo from high school possibly blab to about your being back in town? And, also, he was kind of silly in a weird, delightful way that you couldn’t help but want to play around with.

Besides, there was a certain way he looked at you that was intriguing, and would very quickly become chest-achingly addicting.

After handling a few customers, Ashe pipes up again. “Y'know, if Matty hears you aren't together, he's gonna try shooting his shot with Adrian.”

This only makes you snort. “Please. Matty wouldn't stand a chance.”

You catch the raised eyebrows on Ashe's face and immediately clarify, “he wouldn't stand a chance against Adrian's best friend that's back in town.”

Ashe pauses before their expression alights in understanding. “So that's why you've been so moody.”

“What?”

“You're jealous!”

“What? No. Me? Jealous of who?”

“The best friend you just mentioned,” they laugh. “C'mon, admit it.”

Admit to being jealous of the guy Adrian all but gushed to you about? Enthusiasm punctuating each giddy sentence. The way he practically bounced on the balls of his feet the other night, excited to meet up with him.

Pfft. Naw.

“You're worried he's replacing you.”

Oh. Right. Maybe you are jealous.

Because Ashe's words made you realize that Peacemaker isn't replacing you. You were the one replacing Peacemaker. You've just been a stand-in this entire time, keeping Adrian distracted and entertained while his buddy was locked up or whatever. You see that now.

That hollow feeling returns in the pit of your gut.

Adrian gets half his fucking pinky toe sawed off and his testicles electrocuted in one spectacularly fucked up night. And as if that wasn't bad enough, his secret identity gets revealed to both Peacemaker, and the ENEMY. Which turns out to be some kind of weird, fucked up space pigeon? Whatever.

At this point, he's pissed off at Chris for allowing him to get tortured in the first place. He could have at least tried to stall Adrian getting his balls burnt to a crisp by giving just a little info, maybe? Just a tidbit of information to potentially delay Adrian getting his most important toe being severed, probably?

Whatever valuable lesson was meant to be taught by this doesn't really go appreciated, not when the pain is still fresh in his junk and right foot. Not when his ego is bruised both from getting his butt fully kicked by the tiny green karate man, AND his identity revealed.

TWICE.

In a single month.

He's irritated. Cranky. No one is taking his concerns over his pinky toe seriously, which is frustrating.

To distract himself from the pain and anger, he thinks about you.

It's not even really intentional. Your smile just kind of emerges amidst the muddled annoyance of his thoughts, and it suddenly dulls all the aches. He remembers the sound of your laughter and something warm glows in his chest.

Adrian would very much like to see you. It's been days since the both of you have properly talked, let alone spend real solid time with each other.

But he cannot. He has a duty to Peacemaker that he has to prioritize, and it seems like this new team Chris is with needs him. And, well, it feels nice to be needed.

He cannot see you. So he spends half the car ride to Chris’ dad’s house telling him everything about you instead.

He can almost forget that half his pinky toe is falling off.

Adrian hasn’t responded to any of your texts. You just want to talk to someone about how weird it’s been at home. Well, not someone. Adrian. Just Adrian.

You hope he’s safe.

He could at least call you.

Why hasn’t he called you?

Adrian sits in a prison cell accompanied by nothing but the ugly feeling of shame. He thinks he may have messed up. Potentially made things worse for Chris by failing in killing his terrible, racist father.

And to top it all off, he's agitated his injured foot doing a (pretty sick) spin kick. Instinct had beat self-preservation in that moment.

Once again, the only thing that eases some of the pain are thoughts of you. Out of habit, he glances to the right, looking for the plastic cup filled on his nightstand with all the physical proof that he'd spent time with you. But all that's there are the bleak and dirty yellow walls of his cell.

The frown that's been sitting on his face since being brought back to his cell deepens.

Whatever, it's fine. He doesn't need it to remember what your kisses feel like. The warm press of your mouth against his is definitely embedded into the grooves and ridges of his brain. The taste of you -- bitter coffee, sweetened at the edges. The little sounds you make when he squeezes your waist, or buries his face into the warm space of your neck.

Time in the cell passes by quickly after that. He's rocking a semi by the time they let him out.

You stop by Fennel Fields one day during your lunch break, hoping to surprise Adrian. But he isn’t there. You ask the young hostess at the front if he’s working at all today. She just kind of shrugs impassively, boredly twirling a strand of hair on her finger as she tells you that he was a ‘no call, no show,’ which means he was definitely supposed to work tonight.

Her indifference pisses you off. Doesn’t she know that Adrian could be dead in a ditch somewhere? Doesn’t she care? 

You leave before you can blow up at this Chloe chick (per the name on her apron). Adrian is, of course, just some guy to her. Only you have the pleasure (and the burden) of knowing that he’s so much more. 

Vigilante gets bodily thrown around by a gorilla. And while it's cool that he gets to add 'fought a gorilla and lived' to his list of badassery, it would have been even cooler if he was the one that got to land the finishing blow with a chainsaw.

The chainsaw was his idea, too! So it just kind of feels like Economos stole his thunder, which wasn't very fair.

Venting to Chris doesn't provide as much comfort as he'd like. And while this new team seemed cool, there's no way any of them were capable of making him feel better. Not the way you can.

Thinking about you wasn't going to cut it after this one. Texting wasn't an  option if it meant he couldn't hear your voice, and a phone call wouldn't give him the satisfaction of your smile. So Adrian will go and physically see you.

The burst of excitement in his rib cage is nearly suffocating. But, like, in a good way.

Really good.

Your thumbnail endures the worried gnawing of your teeth as you stare at Adrian’s contact information in your phone, wondering if you should call him. You want to see him. You had made the very resolute decision to keep him around, and now you’re realizing you may have to work a little harder in order to do so. 

You’re alone in the cafe, after hours. Ashe has been spending the rest of their shifts trying to cheer you up, but to no avail. They felt a little guilty, thinking that they had some part in bringing you down after they made the whole ‘jealousy’ comment. There was an extra layer of glumness in your distant expression for the rest of that night and several nights to come that they felt responsible for. So they would insist on staying even after the shop closed, stick around as you finish up your managerial duties.

As nice as the company would have been, Ashe's presence would potentially stop Adrian-slash-Vigilante from popping in, so you did your best every night to reassure the barista that you're fine. It was only the slightly desperate tone in your voice that would convince them to leave each time. 

So, like every other night, Ashe leaves. You lock the doors. You mechanically carry out your closing tasks until all that is left to do is turn off the lights and go. But Adrian, like every other night, still hasn’t shown. 

Before the Vigilante reveal, you two would just text each other when you were planning on stopping by the other's place of work. But now, not only has he been unable to confirm whether or not he’ll be able to stop by, knowing that he spends his nights doing dangerous things makes you think twice about contacting him. What if he’s trying to be stealthy and you call him out of the blue, the ringtone alerting armed gunmen to his presence? And then he gets hurt, or caught, or worse, because of you?

“Ugh, this is ridiculous!” you bemoan into the empty cafe. “How much crime could there even be in Evergreen-”

You cut yourself off, remembering the night after the club and shudder, the hands that make your skin crawl when you think about them, the ugly scab on your knee. 

A sudden, very specific knock from the front of the store has you yelping, phone flying out of your hand. It clatters somewhere behind you, but you’re not paying any attention to that when Vigilante is standing outside. 

Before you know it, you're unlocking the door to the cafe. Vigilante walks in, careful to close and lock the glass door behind him, muttering something about the cold and you getting sick. You don't really pay the comments much mind —  once he turns back around, you use both hands to tug him towards you by the straps (harness?) on his chest.

The action nearly unsteadies you both, him lurching from the unexpected suddenness of the movement, a soft 'whoa-'as his gloved hands instinctively land on your waist to brace himself.

“What was that for?”

The slight whine in his voice makes you grin. It's comforting. It's Adrian. Feeling him pressed up against you subdues some of the worry of losing him, of not seeing him the past several days, even with the hard discomfort of his chest piece against your breast. Even though it's rough, even though it smells like gunmetal and recklessness, the closeness is a momentary salve for your insecurities.

Instead of telling him this, or even something as simple and true as 'I miss you,' you search his eyes behind the red visor (incredibly glad you can see them at all). “Can you see me okay?”

“Huh? Of course I can.”

“But you're not wearing your glasses.”

“Oh! The visor is prescription.” You can tell that he's smiling, can hear the pride in his voice.

“Really? That's pretty cool.”

“Right? I think so, too.” His eyes squint, smile growing wider, and it makes a flurry of butterflies erupt in your gut.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur, and you’re impressed that you manage to keep the desperation from your voice despite the way your heart hammers in your chest. You don’t want Adrian to know how bad you want him, you don’t want to scare him away. 

He stiffens at your admission, however, and starts stammering. “I- we can’t- cameras, remember? My mask-”

“No cameras in the restroom.” You nod your head in the general direction of the cafe’s restroom, somewhere behind you and to the left. 

Adrian glances towards where you gesture, not just with his eyes - his whole helmet tilts with the action, and you’re realizing there's something kind of endearing about the mask. It’s not as intimidating as the first time, or your nightmares. It accentuates his movements in a way you’re coming to find kind of… well, cute. 

But he starts to extricate himself from your grasp, shaking his head. “I really- we shouldn’t.”

Before the rejection could register as painful, you press on, body following his as he pulls away from you. “Well, I’m done for the night. Slow day today.” (You say this like you didn’t take your sweet time counting the tills). “We can just go, get in one of our cars-”

Adrian groans. He gathers your wrists in his hands, the texture of his gloves rough and scratchy as he pulls your hands off of his chest. 

“Dude,” you giggle, “am I bothering you, or something?”

“Yes!”

You blink, startled, at his outburst. The way his head swivels back to look you in the face, enunciating his exclamation. The smile slips from your face as the rejection finally sets in, and you yank your hands away from Adrian like his touch suddenly scalds.

This is it. He's finally sick of you. Or bored of you. The way you've latched onto him is finally wearing him down, and maybe he had some kind of guy talk with Peacemaker that's making him dump your ass, made him realize how pathetic you actually are-

“Are those tears? Why are you crying!?”

“Because you just called me annoying!” You hadn't even realized that tears had welled up.

“What!? No, I didn't!”

“Yes you did! You said I'm bothering you! That means I'm annoying!” You angrily wipe at your eyes. Your hurt morphed into anger due to embarrassment over your own stupid tears.

You're sick of crying in front of Adrian, he shouldn't get to see how weak and broken you really are.

“You're not annoying!” Adrian says, body taking on an exasperated, pleading stance as his arms stretch slightly out to his sides, palms facing out, as if to make up for the fact that you can't see his face. “I just meant that in the moment, you were a little overwhelming.”

You pout. It doesn't exactly make you feel any better.

“I don't know why,” he continues, “but you're really hard to say no to. And I just, I don't know, was looking forward to talking with you tonight. And if you kiss me, I’ll kiss you back and won’t have time to catch you up on everything.”

Your eyes widen and your heart skips a few funny beats. You're hard to say no to? Oh, that flusters you, makes you feel more special than you deserve and you smile, slow and shy and delicate as your cheeks warm, and Adrian's shoulders noticeably relax at the change in expression.

“Why can't we do both?” you ask, coyness laced in your voice.

“I don't think you realize how big of a distraction you are.”

This makes you full on grin. “Is that why you've been avoiding me?”

“Avoiding you?” he repeats, like it hasn't even crossed his mind. “I haven't been avoiding you, I've just been really busy with this new team-”

“New team?” you interrupt, eyebrows furrowing. He only ever mentioned Peacemaker.

“Yeah! See, Peacemaker didn't actually complete his full prison sentence- oh, yeah,” he chuckles, “by the way, I was actually locked up the other day, too. But not because I got caught! It was a deliberate choice. Anyway-”

Your mouth hangs open as Adrian continues to regale you of how his past week has been, and the group of people he's been helping out that call themselves 'Task Force X' or something. You barely notice the way he gently ushers you to a nearby table, carefully pulling out a chair for you to sit as he recounts the details of each mission (and a side quest? If you can call getting yourself purposefully arrested a side quest.)

He fought a gorilla. But it wasn't a normal gorilla, it was a super gorilla. You thought the 'super' part was a bit excessive. A regular gorilla could have easily wrecked everyone's shit, given that this group is all human.

(“Everyone on this team is human, right? No superpowers?”)

(“I think so, yeah.”)

He whines to you a bit about how some guy named Economos took down the gorilla with a chainsaw.

(“It was cool, but it just would have been cooler had I been the one to do it.”)

(You nod, very serious. “Oh, for sure.”)

He tells you about how he tried to kill Auggie Smith, the racist, retired villain that just so happens to be Peacemaker's father. This information gives you whiplash, but Adrian hardly gives you any time to process it as he moves onto the next thing.

The next thing being the torture he went through in a US Senetor's secret dungeon (what the fuck), where he endured getting his junk electrocuted and a pinky toe severed almost entirely off by said senator.

The senator also happened to be an alien? And he's dead now?

The senator. Not the alien. Peacemaker kept the alien (but don't tell anyone).

By the time he's done, you understand why there was no time for making out. This was a lot to unpack.

“So... how've you been?”

You stare at him. “What do you mean how have I been? Who even cares? Whatever I've been going through pales in comparison to the shit you've been through.”

Adrian tries to interrupt, but you don't let him. “No! Nuh-uh, my life is peachy. I still have all my toes. I haven't had any part of my body electrocuted. I didn't tussle with a fucking. Gorilla.”

There's a second where you just stare at each other before Adrian breaks eye contact first, helmeted head falling forward. “Yeah, true.”

“Adr- Vigilante,” you catch yourself. “Are you sure you should be doing this? It kind of sounds like Peacemaker came with baggage.” You think about your own baggage, grimace, then correct yourself. “Dangerous baggage, I mean. I don't like that you're getting hurt because of him.”

Adrian's head whips up at your words, eyes wide. “No no no, it's fine, it's cool! They need me!”

He says this all too chipper.

“Besides, it's not all bad! There's fun stuff, too! We blew some stuff up in the woods-”

You roll your eyes. “That's still dangerous.”

“And there was the threesome-”

Threesome? He's still talking, probably, you can't really tell. It just gets muted out by the wretched feeling that's suddenly tearing apart your heart and making it difficult to breathe.

“Wh- what threesome..?” The question rattles out of you, shaken and quiet.

“Huh?”

You look at him, unblinking, and ask again. “What threesome? When did- when did you have...?”

“Oh, with Chris and this 'underappreciated' chick he brought back to his trailer. It was just like old times,“ he cheerily proceeds, completely unaware of the mood shift.

How could you have been so stupid? Of course no grown man with an active libido was going to remain perfectly content with just making out in his car. Adrian probably got sick of you stringing him along (which, you weren't, not really but where else were you gonna have sex? Your parent's house was out of the question, and he wouldn't offer his place.)

Wait, why didn't he bring you back to his place? He lied about having a roommate, you know this now though he still hasn't admitted it.

You abruptly stand up. The chair scrapes harshly against the tiles before keeling over.

Adrian flinches at the sound, and immediately stands up with you. “Whoa, hey, are you-”

“Get out.”

“Are you mad? Is it- is it the threesome? Because we aren't even together, technically, so you shouldn't-”

This fractures your heart even further.

“I said get out,” you sob, no longer able to look at him.

“W-wait,” he falters, very visibly out of his element. “You aren't supposed to be mad. Chris said-”

“Please,” you whisper, and it is such a small, pathetic sound, full of hurt despite its quietness. You hide your face behind shaky hands, feeling untethered and lost and indescribable pain.

A long moment of silence expands the distance between you both, until, finally (because you are very hard to say no to) you hear Adrian's footsteps walk away, and out the front door of the cafe.

taglist: @whatevermonkey @hiddlebatchedloki @nobodys-baby-now @navs-bhat @afraidofshrimp @training4theapocalypse @abbaenthusiast @jediviolet @t0byisher3 @madhyanas

[ if you would like to be removed from the taglist, pls let me know! it wouldn't hurt my feelings, i 100% understand if you come to find it annoying or just not currently interested in the fandom. likewise, if you want to be added, i'd appreciate a reblog and/or comment/feedback ]

[bygoneboy]

okay fine. it was nivanfield day yesterday and they still have me by the throat (nsfw wip under the cut)

“Never do that again,” says Chris, the minute the office door closes behind them. He can hardly look at him, fists clenching and unclenching. He paces past the internal office windows, snaps the blinds down preemptively; he has a gut-sinking feeling that they’re going to fight, that he’s going to start it. Piers can get under his skin in a way that no one else seems to be able to. Everyone knows it. More than anything, Chris hates knowing that everyone knows.

Like the low roll of thunder before a storm— Piers seems to sense the incoming argument. He starts to shuck off the tactical vest, rolling up his sleeves, moving stiff. “I’m doing my job, Chris.”

“Your job,” says Chris, so unbelievably furious that his voice shakes, “is negotiation. Your job is defusing aggression, retaining control. Not charging in like you’re still one of mine.”

Piers scoffs, straight out, and chucks the vest over the back of one of the office chairs. “Like you’d ever let me forget that I’m not.”

“I’m serious, Piers.”

“Yeah? So am I—”

“You could’ve been killed!”

“As if you’d care?!”

Piers gets close, fast. Chin up, defiant, like he’s going to throw a punch or shove him, but Chris moves first. Moves without thinking— gripping him by the shoulders, pushing him back until he hits the desk. Pinning him there. Breathing hard, through his nose, holding his gaze.

“Never fucking do that again,” repeats Chris, roughly this time, his voice dark, meaning of course I’d care, I care so much it fucking scares me, and how do you not know that by now? “Promise me.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore,” says Piers. “I’m not one of yours, remember?”

They stand there, both of them seething, for a long moment. Breathing each other’s air. He’s close enough that Chris can smell him, sweat and faint cologne. He’s close enough that when Piers’ eyes drop to Chris’s mouth, Chris tracks it.

He doesn’t want to fight. It’s been years since they were in the same room like this, since there was this much between them. And Chris is still angry but it’s all mixed up, tangled with the receding terror of watching Piers step out in front of him and the abrupt and dizzying surge of affection that always accompanies everything that Piers does, or says— so much had changed, after China. So much had been different, transformed to an irreversible degree, but not Piers. Never Piers. Not in the ways that mattered.

“Chris,” Piers says, swallowing hard, sounding like the wind has been knocked out of him. “Please, God, will you just—”

Chris fists one hand in Piers’ hair, pulls him in, and kisses him.

Piers goes stiff, for a moment. Then he makes a faint sound against him— relieved, a little annoyed— and he’s tipping his head up, parting his lips to let Chris kiss him: open-mouthed, hungrily, then sweetly. There’s something almost sad about the way he feels under Chris’s hands. The way he clutches at Chris’s fatigues like he’s trying to hold onto something beyond him. There’s something strangely tender about it, too. Especially when Chris gets his hand down Piers’ pants and Piers starts whimpering softly into his neck, his breath hot and damp, rolling his hips up into Chris’s grip.

“Oh, God,” he says, sounding anything but angry now. “Oh, fuck, Chris, I didn’t know if you’d want— if you still wanted—”

“You can’t go running in like that,” says Chris, his face hot, watching Piers’ eyes flutter closed, watching the way he bites his lip and shudders when Chris thumbs along the tip of his dick. “You know I’m right.”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t— fucking try to argue with me when we’re, when you’re— fuck, yes, like that—”

“You shouldn’t have come back. You weren’t ready.”

“Fuck you,” says Piers, panting. “I’m not— ah— like you, I don’t take on anything I can’t handle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing, nevermind, God— touch me, just keep touching me, please—”

He gets Piers on his back on the desk, shoves his own pants down around his knees. There’s still a bottle of lube in the drawer, half-empty and embarrassingly untouched since Piers was here last; they’d used to fuck in his office a lot, when they were together. Not that they’ve ever been together for very long. He tries not to think about it, pumping two fingers in and out of him as Piers bites down on his left wrist to muffle the sounds he makes, the prosthetic on his right hooked under Chris’s arm. By the time he’s pushing inside of him— slowly, slowly, petting at Piers’ hair and mumbling stupid endearments, his legs shaking with the restraint— Chris is lost again. Still as desperate for him as he’s always been. Still desperate to try and keep it for once, though it can’t possibly last. 

“Enough of the suicidal shit,” says Chris when he’s all the way in, sunk deep, their foreheads pressed together, his mouth brushing over Piers’ lips when he speaks. “I can’t— fucking lose you. You know that.”

“Your timing sucks,” says Piers, his voice high and breathy, his eyes closed again, screwed up like he’s in pain.

“Promise me.”

“You won’t lose me,” says Piers. He sounds close to begging. His hips are twitching in Chris’s grip, trying to find friction, relief. “You want a promise? Fine. I’ll promise not to die if you promise to quit smoking.”

“I’m not fucking negotiating with you.”

Piers laughs. Then groans, startled and loud, when Chris pulls out nearly all the way and drives back into him again, hard and deliberate. Fucking him into the desk thinking I love you, I love you, that sharp laugh and the tight perfect heat of his body, the mean slant of his eyes when he’s pissed off. How he drives Chris right up to the breaking point but never just leaves him there— always walking him back from the edge again, as long as Chris will let him.

[cottoncandybitchfuck]

D20 Incorrect quotes PT 3!!!

Fantasy High

Someone to Fabian: You are.. 16 years old Fabian: And that means I can’t say Papa?

Adaine: I’m not judging them for their fashion, I’m judging them for being bitches

Someone to Adaine at some point: A clean room doesn't matter if you're dead

Kristen: Dipped, crucified— what’s the difference?*

Kristen abought Ragh: He feels like a guy that would like sucking dick.

TUC

Pete: I am competent, I am intelligent, and I say booty

Kugrash: Oh… that paper was crunchy

Kingston: I don’t want to hear a white redhead sing

Dr. Lugash: Did your boob just fall off?

Sophia to Pete: You  thought this cat’s name was cummin? That’s cumin– dude, do you not cook?

Neverafter

Rosamund: Why are you standing like that? Gerard: This is my human stance!

Timothy Goose: I can feel my bones! Pib: Meow**

Pinicchio: Bald isn’t a minority

Ylfa: It’s not a neeeew thing, it’s just a baaaaad thing.

Mentopolis

Dan about Conrad: He’s the perfect size to chuck

Burrow’s End

Lila to Jaysohn: *while patting his head* Your head’s a little drum 

Ava: Listen, if I had to be traumatized as a child, then they have to be traumatized too, okay?!

Aabria: “Aabria to Erika: No!”***

Tula: Lila is like a pillow, Jaysohn is more like a curtain rod

*Dipped in this means left, not physically dipped in a substance

**This has context for why it was said, but more important is that the response from a human was not Meow, but instead impeccable timing from a needy cat

***Said when I was dming a minisession with a PC and had to OOC tell my player no

[apopcornkernel]

been thinking too hard about my batman mob au. so i would like to share it. this is so long im sorry let me put it under a cut

i want to begin by saying that i think the only way bruce could feasibly become a mob boss is if he was able to be swayed to see that "clean" methods would genuinely do no good and in fact succeed in achieving more harm due to how much corruption and crime permeates the system. i think it would take a LOT to convince bruce of this, so he's kind of the hardest character to put in a mob au. however for the sake of fun we will suspend our disbelief a little bit!

okay, moving on, alfred: he's long been proven to be bruce's biggest enabler. i think he would get over it and end up helping him as he does as batman

as for dick: ooh boy. okay. so first of all i DO think bruce would let him kill zucco. however!! i think as dick grows up within the mob his strong code of morals will also begin to conflict with the lifestyle. but he's stuck there because bruce. insert all those posts about how dick grayson loves freedom and he also loves bruce and those things are at constant war with each other and because he loves bruce he sometimes clips his own wings. etc etc. i think he is the talia al ghul of this whole sitch if you get what i mean

speaking of talia!!! i believe her father would still be at odds with bruce bc yes, bruce is in crime, but bruce refuses to join with the league. so they semi-preserve their canon dynamic, except i think there's more opportunity for cooperation between talia and bruce considering talia's lexcorp era. in fact i do believe that lexcorp and waynecorp would become business allies during talia's time as ceo

but jason isn't dead. what his kidnappers hoped to do was turn him against his benefactor, taunt him about how it's been months and bruce still hasn't been able to save him, had refused to save him. but one night the door's left ajar and the sound of the TV drifts in, talking about how bruce is waging a bloody gang war, the first he's ever instigated, and jason... well. :)

as for jason—i think he would be the most loyal of the bunch. the first thing i actually dreamed up wrt this AU was a reimagining of ditf/utrh! in here, he's kidnapped by a rival gang. they demand bruce an impossible ransom, and bruce has no choice but to refuse. so bruce is sent a video of jason being killed.

"but poppy," you ask. "where's babs? tim? steph? cass? helena? jpv?" ok let's be real people aren't usually asking about the last 2 rip my babygirls BUT ANYWAYS—

the most important figure is HELENA. in the absence of batman, guess who's becoming the foremost protector of gotham??? EXACTLY. HELENA BERTINELLI. her whole backstory is that she wants to bring organized crime down SO WHO BETTER TO BE THE MAIN ENEMY IN A BATMAN MOB AU.

also because i love her.

im not biased i swear.

ALSO HER FIRST "ROBIN" (not necessarily named robin i just mean like. sidekick) IS JAMES COOPER FROM CAVALIERI'S HUNTRESS. CHUCK DIXON I HAVE NOT FORGIVEN YOU FROM ERASING HIM FROM MAIN CONTINUITY. he doesn't go out into the field that much bc he's still baby but he's the oracle before oracle. although when he does go into the field he's like. remember in cavalieri huntress where he was scurrying arohnd in the sewers and planting fucking grenades and shit. yeah.

later on he and babs will be best buddies <3 babs is his favorite aunt

ALSO!!! the rest of james' family will still be alive. idgaf. it's MY au and i can randomly reveal that his family has been alive all along IF I WANT TO. comic writers stop killing black people off for shock value challenge 2k24

also, james is ABSOLUTELY the one who wheedled helena into making a lair

babs does join the fray still! her story arc is mostly the same except that she partners with the huntress instead of batman. their ages are closer together so it's a slightly different dynamic

tim will remain a civilian. he will, however, be a very helpful civilian, in that he's the one who's stalking dick grayson & trying to prove that dick's involved in organized crime. him and dick will have the saddest tragickest "we could've been brothers. but not in this life. not ever." type of relationship. like jaderoy but platonic.

also tim & helena will have the same littlebrothernephew relationship that they have in canon 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

i guess jpv will get roped in in a similar way to canon, but the idea of bane doing what he did to helena makes me so so sad :( however since she is taking batman's narrative space in this story then i think it should still proceed. i will then also insert a little bit of the vichelena agenda here—

in the wake of bane, JPV WILL STILL STEP IN AS HUNTRESS. "but they'll know he's not a woman" COWARDS. just give him a dye job and he'll look like helena. all white people look the same. he can pad the fucking suit or he can get the fuck out.

as for steph, she will absolutely be a vigilante alongside the huntress. her father is still cluemaster, after all, so she'll follow a similar arc to canon except it's helena and not bruce that she'll develop a complex mentor relationship with!!

i think helena can see a little of herself in steph. i think part of helena envies steph's moral compass also. iirc at steph's age, helena still thought her mafia family was okay & that it was just the people who killed them that were bad. yet steph, who's half her age, has no such illusions about her father, and is already fighting to try and bring him down

cass!!!! cass will still come to gotham!!!!! i can't see a way for cass to be on bruce's side in this au simply bc of how strong her morals are. she killed a man and never ever wanted to kill again, even with shiva where it was kill or be killed, she had already made up her mind to let herself be killed in the end. so she is going to be on the vigilante side :]

also, it would be amazing for me personally if cass came to gotham during azbats (...azhuntress?) era. ohhh lord. a situation RIPE for incredible interactions

i still haven't read damian & duke comics properly yet so that's going to have to be added in the future. but that's what's been rattling around in my brain so far!

[extralively]

Movie Night

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character NSFW (it's just smut) 4,936 words Also posted on AO3 Summary: Satoru has Yura over for a little movie night, but what he has in mind is something completely different. So Yura decides to teach him to have a little patience as she... 'enjoys the movie'.

While I'm editing the next chapter of the main fic (coming soon!), lemme just post this oneshot here on tumblr. If you've been keeping up with the series on AO3, you might have already read this one!

Anyway, this is just pure filth and can be read as standalone. Enjoy!

Whenever Satoru asked Yura to watch a movie with him nowadays, it was an inevitability that it would eventually lead to sex. When it would happen was always up in the air—as in, if they were going to actually get through the entire movie or not—but in general, whenever they decided to hang out at each other’s apartments alone, sex was a foregone conclusion.

Of course, Yura sometimes still wanted to watch the damn movie.

...But she also had to admit that sometimes, she too had something else in mind.

“So, what’s the movie this time?” Yura asked, flopping down onto Satoru’s comfy leather couch.

Satoru soon joined her after he grabbed the TV’s remote, sitting next to her. “It’s a romcom,” he said, stretching out his long legs to rest his feet on the coffee table. “It came out recently.”

Yura shifted on her side, resting her head on the back cushion as she let her legs curl on top of his, her body halfway on his lap. “...It’s not porn again this time, is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Satoru let out a huff. “That wasn’t porn! That was... an erotic movie. It’s a Japanese classic!”

“I mean...” Yura tilted her head. “The movie is like ninety percent very explicit sex—until the woman cuts the guy’s dick off at the end.”

“Well...” Satoru sighed. “That was only after the guy was already dead...”

Yura snorted.

Satoru eventually started the movie up, and their attention shifted to his ridiculously large TV screen. This time, it really seemed to be a mostly light-hearted movie, and Yura quickly relaxed into the couch cushions, letting her head rest against his shoulder as she curled further into his side.

As the main characters of the story started being introduced, Yura’s hand came up to hold onto the crook of Satoru’s elbow, the one trapped between her body and his—which meant that his other arm was free to caress her leg as he pleased. And Yura sighed in approval, enjoying his touch on her bare skin; she had already changed into what could pass off as comfortable pajamas: an old pair of shorts and an oversized sweater—she’d figured she would not be leaving Satoru’s apartment again until tomorrow so she might as well make herself comfortable, right? And Satoru had also had the same idea, having already changed out of his street clothes and into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt—both now perfectly cozy until all these clothes were inevitably chucked off somewhere later in the night.

Familiar story beats were happening on screen—nothing too innovative, bordering on cliché. Yura tried to focus on the movie, she really did, but it wasn’t particularly gripping... and Satoru’s hand on her leg was more than a little distracting. And that was before his other hand moved despite its limited mobility between the two of them, coming up to gently caress her thigh; that, she was more than certain, was completely deliberate. The bastard definitely knew what he was doing here.

“Satoru, it’s been like ten minutes since the start of the movie,” she told him, amused.

“Hmm?” Satoru replied, tilting his head towards her ever so slightly. “I’m not doing anything, I’m just... watching the movie.”

The smile on his face clearly contradicted his words. Sly bastard.

Satoru turned his head to press his lips to the top of her head. “Not doing anything at all...” He pressed another kiss there. “Wouldn’t want to miss this amazing movie.” And another kiss. “I think it’s good enough to win an Oscar.”

Yura was trying to bite back a grin, as she didn’t want to give in too easily. By now, she was fairly sure Satoru had picked any random movie just so he could have the excuse of a movie night, when in reality, what he wanted was sex. She had no idea why he went the roundabout way sometimes, since he wasn’t exactly shy about just asking for it directly—so the least he could do was play along a little bit more, couldn’t he?

“The movie does seem pretty promising,” Yura said, still trying (and failing) to keep a smile off her face. “It would be a shame if we missed it.”

Her hand slid up from his arm to his chest, and she started drawing random imaginary figures on his shirt.

“Such a shame,” Satoru agreed, his hand wrapping around her thigh to hitch her leg higher on his lap.

Yura let her hand trail downward on his torso, reaching the waistband of his sweatpants and sliding her fingers over it. She could feel Satoru’s stomach contracting briefly at the pressure, and she couldn’t help herself; she let her hand slip under his t-shirt to brush against the bare skin there, her fingers finding the contours of his muscles and gently tracing along.

...Well, that might have been a bit too much, because Satoru suddenly lifted his free hand to hold her head, tilting it up as his lips immediately found hers and—goodbye movie.

Yura smiled against Satoru’s mouth as he shifted on the couch, maneuvering both of their bodies so she would fully turn towards him as he moved between her legs. Her hand had to leave his stomach with the movement, and she briefly lamented the lack of contact before he was quickly on her again.

As her hands came up to cradle his face close to her, his lips were a bit insistent as they moved against hers, no soft and slow movements this time—instead, Satoru locked their lips together in deep kisses that had her head spinning. He kept pushing her backwards too, until she eventually ended up lying back on the couch, Satoru always moving with her as he settled right between her legs. He was quick to pull off his sunglasses and toss them away, and Yura had to smile again at his clear impatience before his lips were immediately back on hers. Why had he even suggested a movie night when what he wanted for tonight was clearly this?

Oh well. Yura let her hands slip underneath Satoru’s shirt again to caress his back, while his tongue pushed its way into her mouth. One of his hands made its way down her waist, tilting her hips up and making sure they were perfectly slotted against his—so that once he started grinding his hips down onto hers, she would definitely feel it.

“...Someone’s a little impatient,” Yura breathed out as they disconnected their mouths. And Satoru didn’t even give himself a chance to breathe, as he immediately pressed his lips to her cheek and started trailing down kisses all the way to her neck.

“I was out all week,” he said, in between kisses to her skin.

Yura snorted. “We had sex yesterday.”

“...Still plenty of time we need to make up for.”

She was pretty sure Satoru was grinning against her neck, and Yura huffed out a laugh that ended up turning into a moan when Satoru started sucking on that one spot and ground his hips onto hers at the same time.

Satoru certainly seemed to be up and ready himself, didn’t he?

“You sure that you didn’t get turned on thinking about that porn movie from last time?” Yura huffed out as Satoru’s hips started insistently grinding against hers, effectively starting to dry hump her. Yura let her thighs spread a bit wider, tilting her hips so the pressure would be on just the right spot.

“...That was an erotic movie,” Satoru insisted, lifting his head back up. “And no... Maybe.” He shot her a crooked grin.

Satoru’s mouth found hers again. When his hands slipped down to start tugging at her shorts, Yura simply lifted her hips to assist their removal, and Satoru pulled away from her so he could tug her shorts and panties away in one go. She looked up at him, amused; so that was how eager he was? Zero patience for anything else, not even bothering to remove her oversized sweater as he completely bared her bottom to him.

And he, of course, wasn’t too far behind; after tossing her shorts and underwear somewhere, he immediately started pushing down his own pants, also neglecting to remove his own t-shirt. Yura could help, she thought, still amused as she looked up at Satoru rushing to remove his sweatpants. But Satoru was just so darn eager, that maybe... he could learn to have a little patience.

Yura sat up as Satoru was about to return to her, sans pants. And as she placed a hand on his chest to hold him back, making him look at her in confusion, she tried biting back a smile. “...I still want to watch the movie, though,” she said, and Satoru continued to stare, completely befuddled—he’d clearly been expecting something else.

He was so confused that when she started urging him backwards, he just let her guide him without a word. His blue eyes were blinking up at her as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’, but Yura only smiled in return, pushing him back until he was finally sitting again on the couch. She gave him no chance to say anything then, quickly climbing onto his lap—except it was to sit on it with her back to his chest. Not exactly what he had in mind, and as she grabbed his hands to wrap his arms around her body in an innocuous embrace, she could feel the sheer confusion radiating from all over him.

“...Yura,” Satoru eventually spoke up behind her as she settled onto his lap, facing the TV. Never mind that both of their bottom halves were completely bare, and she had purposefully sat with his erection under her... “What—”

“Shh,” she interrupted him. “It’s movie night, and I wanna watch a movie.”

She was desperately trying to bite back a grin.

“Yuraaaa,” he whined behind her, his arms tightening around her body as he dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “There are more fun things to do than a movie.”

Satoru’s hands tried moving up her chest, but she grabbed them again and held them in place. “You said we were going to watch a movie—so we’re watching a movie,” she said again. But her hips shifted around, rubbing against him, and Satoru drew in a sharp exhale.

Yura kept her eyes on the TV, even though she wasn’t actually paying attention. And neither was Satoru, although she wasn’t surprised in the least—she could still see a mess of white hair against the side of her head, his face still pressed against her shoulder as his arms held her tightly to him. His hips tried grinding up into her, and she could feel him tantalizingly close to her unclothed core—but patience. She shifted on his lap, sitting up straighter, and it made him whine again.

She unwrapped his arms from around her, removing them from her body. “Behave. It’s movie night, remember?” she said, and Satoru whined again.

...But the thing was, she had shifted on his lap, with a purpose. She could now open her thighs just a bit more, and, there you go—his member was slotted right against the crack of her buttocks. And Satoru sure had noticed that, suddenly going still as he seemed to be waiting for what she was going to do next.

And what she did next was grind her hips down, slowly. Satoru let out a shaky breath, and she did it again, and again, and to be honest, the more she shifted back, the more she could feel him rubbing against her outer folds. She was teasing him, yes, but it also left her wanting more, despite her little plan to act as blasé about it as possible—so Yura couldn’t help herself. She shifted back some more, sitting further back on his lap so she could feel his entire length resting right outside her core.

Yura bit her lip, looking down at her thighs to see the head of him poking out from between them. What a sight, she thought, but when she ground her hips down again, it didn’t really provide enough pressure to satisfy her properly, his member still remaining outside of her folds.

So she took matter into her own hands, literally—she reached down with one hand and used it to press him up against her, slotting him between her folds and finally rubbing herself against him. Her nether lips were hugging his length tightly, increasingly coating him in her wetness with every movement she made. Satoru’s hands were gripping her hips, trying to urge her further, and despite all that, Yura was still trying to pretend that she was fully engrossed in the movie in front of them.

“Satoru, you’re missing the best part,” Yura spoke up, and Satoru only let out a questioning hum behind her. “Of the movie,” she clarified. She shifted her hips again, and she let her thumb caress the head of his length for a moment.

“This is not... the best part,” Satoru responded. “We haven’t reached the climax yet.”

Yura’s grin widened. “No, but we can’t just skip there,” she said, paired with another roll of her hips, the feeling of his member dragging against her folds way too good for her to stop. “Gotta go through the rest of the movie first.”

Yura let her thighs fall open some more, spreading her legs further on his lap. Maybe it was time to move on to the ‘next scene’, she thought, amused, and she finally shifted on his lap, folding her legs back as she essentially knelt down outside of his thighs. She still kept him pressed against her folds throughout, unwilling to break the connection, but once she was in the right position with her knees on either side of him, she finally shifted enough to let the head notch against her entrance, and she slowly sank down on him.

Satoru let out a long, shuddering breath as she took him in, and Yura herself did the same. Her hands came to rest on his thighs for support, the feeling of her walls being stretched open as she pushed him into her completely frying her brain for a moment, but not enough for her to stop. Quite the opposite; she continued sinking down until he was all the way inside, her hips meeting his and she let her weight drop onto his lap, taking a moment to just... enjoy the feeling.

“...Okay,” she eventually breathed out, opening her eyes back up. “Let’s watch the movie.”

Satoru let out a confused ‘hm?’ as Yura bit back a grin again, keeping her hips still. Her eyes were glued to the screen, and once Satoru realized she was not going to move, he whined again. “Yuraa—”

His hands started creeping up from her hips, and she had to knock them away from her. “It’s movie night,” she said, and even if she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was pouting. His hands tried returning to her body, but she once again slapped them away. “Behave. Let me watch the damn thing.”

She wasn’t really watching the damn thing. Her eyes were glued to the screen, yes, but Yura had no idea what was going on anymore. Something something the main character needed to find a date, but that seemed almost irrelevant—not when she could feel Satoru hot and heavy inside of her, feeling him stretch her open on the inside. Satoru dropped his hands to the couch cushions once he realized she wasn’t going to let him touch, and he eventually let his body fall back against the couch as he seemingly decided to just roll with it.

“Is the movie really that good?” he asked, almost like making conversation. But to be honest, Yura had gotten a little distracted—when Satoru had moved, she’d felt him shift inside of her, and she bit her lip at the feeling.

“...Sure,” she replied. The fact that she was sitting directly on him made the feeling of him even better, seemingly increasing all the pressure there inside of her. Of course, sitting still for too long made her get too used to it, so Yura shifted her hips just a bit, just so she could feel him moving inside of her and she bit her lip some more.

“I was the one who picked it,” Satoru commented. Yura suddenly felt him start caressing the curve of her ass ever so slightly, brushing the skin there up and down until it reached where she was pressed against him. “I do have good taste.”

Yura hummed out a vague response, still trying to pay attention to the screen. But it was too distracting, feeling him slotted snugly inside of her; she thought she could feel something throbbing down there, but at this point, she couldn’t be sure whether that was him or her anymore.

Maybe both.

The main character on the TV was asking her best friend for advice, who seemed to be trying to talk some sense into her. Or at least that’s what Yura guessed, because her mind was elsewhere entirely—the feeling of him was almost too much, and even after all this time of them sleeping together, she was often taken aback by how deep Satoru could go.

One of her hands left his thigh, coming up to rest on her lower stomach instead. Her fingers splayed open on her own skin, slipping under her sweater as she absentmindedly caressed herself there. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or not, but there were times that when she pressed down on her stomach like that, she thought she could almost feel him inside that way. Well, she could definitely feel him inside in another way, and she let her hips shift just the slightest bit again just so she could feel him sliding against her walls once more.

...This was actually really nice, she thought. What a fun movie night.

The main character in the movie seemed to have finally gotten somewhere with the male lead, and they were moving in for their first kiss. But before their lips could make contact, someone interrupted them, and then Yura suddenly jumped when Satoru decided to brush a finger over the sole of her foot—her walls immediately contracting around him at the tickling sensation.

“...Honestly,” Yura breathed out, though she was pretty sure Satoru had also let out a small gasp at the feeling. “You just won’t let me watch the movie in peace, will you?” she said, even as her lips were tugging upwards.

“What are you talking about,” Satoru said, and she could feel the sly tone in his voice even without seeing the accompanying grin. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Honestly,” Yura repeated, except that this time, she rolled her hips along with it. “Just let me watch the movie.”

Satoru, however, had nothing to complain about this time as Yura started moving her hips against his, pushing him in and out of her. In fact, she was sure she felt him fall back down against the cushions with a long sigh, his hands coming up to hold on to her calves as her hips rolled on top of him.

Yura set out at a quick pace, her hips moving with purpose. Her eyes also never left the screen, even if it was all a blur at this point—the feeling of him dragging along her walls was too good for her to pay attention to anything else. She adjusted the angle and quickened her pace, feeling Satoru’s fingers tighten against her skin as she heard his breathing pick up behind her, and it only encouraged her further.

Yura was completely focused on her own movements, her hands holding on to his thighs for support as her hips never stopped rolling on top of him. She did eventually change the angle again, her hips starting to move back and forth now, and that’s when she felt Satoru’s hand leave her calf to come up to her hip. She felt his upper body lift off the couch behind her, shifting closer to let his hand trail to her front—and she slapped it away.

“I’m busy,” she chided, still trying to bite back her own sly grin. “This movie is really good.”

“...Yeah?” Satoru breathed out, seeming confused again for a second.

“Hm-hm,” Yura nodded, returning her hands to his thighs, using them as leverage... but also caressing his thighs a bit. “You’re the one... otherwise distracted.”

Satoru let out a shaky breath, his torso dropping back to the couch. “I’m very distracted. Getting... more distracted by the second.”

She did allow herself to grin this time. “Then just be done with it... and get back to the movie.” Her pace increased.

Satoru’s hands gripped her calves again, breathing out her name. It wouldn’t be long now, she figured, letting her inner muscles contract around him; his fingers tightened on her skin at the feeling and she did it again.

Yura couldn’t help but glance behind her now, catching Satoru with his head thrown back against the cushions and his chest heaving up and down, almost in synch with her own movements. He seemed to be really into it, she thought, smiling, as she turned her head back to the front. She let her inner muscles squeeze him again, increasing her pace, and it didn’t take long for him to finally snap—his hips pushed up into hers, and she finally felt him start releasing himself deep inside of her with a long, drawn-out groan.

As Yura felt the warmth inside of her increasing, she let her hips slow down even as she squeezed him with her inner muscles once more, urging on his release. She closed her eyes this time, enjoying the feeling, letting her hips come to a halt by sinking back down on him completely and staying there.

As Satoru panted behind her, Yura let herself catch her own breath even if her body was still tense from the lack of release. This felt good, though, and she was enjoying it as part of the experience—the way she could still feel him inside, the way he made her feel full. And suddenly, one of her hands ended up returning to her lower stomach, pressing down gently, the thought of heirs and babies suddenly passing through her mind and Yura tried not to think about how those intrusive thoughts weren’t quite as unwelcome as they used to be. Feeling Satoru’s release inside of her was making her stomach do strange, but not unpleasant, flip flops—was this some sort of weird kink she had suddenly developed? She would definitely have to blame Satoru for this one. There would be no Gojo babies any time soon with her IUD in place, but the thought of them...

Maybe one day, echoed around in her mind, and Yura didn’t chase it away. Instead, she let her palm warm up her stomach, just as she could still feel Satoru warming up her insides.

...and he was definitely still warm and hard inside of her. So much stamina, she mentally laughed; he was showing no signs of softening anytime soon.

Yura’s lips tugged up.

Round two, then?

“...You still watching that movie?” Satoru eventually spoke up, still a little breathless.

“Yep,” she answered. But she let the hand on her stomach trail down, slipping between her legs until she reached the spot where their bodies were joined. Yura let her fingers brush against the base of his length, even if there wasn’t much space for it as she had sunk down on him completely. She teased both him and her there with gentle touches, and she couldn’t tell whether the stickiness she was feeling was from her or him or both.

One thing that did occur to her, though, was the fact that, hold on, there was a bit of him left that she could still take in, right? Her fingers rubbed against it and then against her folds wrapped around him, feeling his fingers tightening on her calves again. So Yura shifted her hips back, adjusting the angle and pushing down, and yeah—just a little bit deeper.

She stayed like that for a while longer, enjoying how it felt. It was almost like she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began—they were completely joined as one like this. She would have never imagined this feeling could be so intoxicating, a sudden wish for them to stay there forever passing through her—if only her body hadn’t started craving more.

The characters on the screen seemed to be finally hooking up, a modestly filmed sex scene starting up that couldn’t compare to what was going on outside of the TV. Satoru’s hands found her buttocks again, but instead of caressing them, he began squeezing them in his hold, playing with the flesh there. Yura briefly wondered if he was enjoying the sight back there, but her brain was suddenly emptied when she started shifting her hips slightly, enjoying the way Satoru was prodding at the deepest parts of her. Just lightly shifting her hips on top of him, pressing down to feel the pressure of him inside, but her movements eventually started to increase bit by bit. She began raising her hips and sinking back down, feeling him drag in and out of her and then in again—and this time, she was focusing on herself.

Yura’s hips kept moving up and down, making sure to adjust the angle so she could take him in as deep as she could with every thrust. Her movements couldn’t be too fast if she wanted to keep sinking in all the way, so she made up for it in intensity. She was almost bouncing on his lap, her hands gripping his thighs again as she adjusted her hips to push him in harder, stimulating something deep inside of her every time. And all the while, Satoru did nothing but let her do as she pleased, his hands cupping her ass almost like he was holding it up for her.

The movie in front of them was long forgotten as Yura let her head fall down, too immersed in the way her walls were being forced open every time she pushed him in. She could definitely feel something leaking out from where they were joined, her mind briefly registering it as his previous release—while the other part of her mind was saying more.

“Yura,” he breathed out her name, his hands sliding down from her behind until they were gripping her calves again. Yeah, she wanted more—more of him, more of this, just... more. So one of her hands eventually left his thigh, pressing down on her stomach again (was she really feeling him there or...?), and slowly, she slipped it down between her legs. As she started rubbing herself, her desperation only increased, her movements becoming erratic as she gripped his thigh harder. Her legs tensed and relaxed and tensed again, and she could feel Satoru’s legs doing the same under her. Come on, now, she thought to herself. A little more—

And it finally hit her, her hips roughly sinking down completely as her walls clamped around him, squeezing him, as her orgasm crashed over her. Satoru seemed to join her right after, his hips thrusting himself even deeper as she felt his warmth filling her up again.

Yura stayed still, letting the waves of pleasure wash over her. Her walls were spasming around him and she suddenly felt full again—not even realizing her hand had moved up from between her legs to rest on her stomach once more.

...Ah, shit. Definitely a new kink.

She could feel Satoru’s heavy breathing behind her as they both struggled to catch their breaths. His tight grip on her calves eventually loosened, and he was the one to finally break the silence.

“That’s... one hell of a movie,” Satoru spoke up, still breathless.

Yura laughed.

Once her eyes were unscrewed shut, her gaze eventually landed on the TV again. The movie was still playing.

With a long exhale, Yura let her torso fall back against him, feeling his chest heaving against her back in synch with hers. He sadly ended up slipping out of her with the movement, but his arms eventually came to circle her body, holding her close.

She sighed. Her hands came up to rest on top of his, her eyes landing on the TV screen again. The movie seemed to be close to its end, the main characters trying to resolve a misunderstanding between the two, but Yura was too busy feeling Satoru’s release slipping out of her to pay attention to the screen.

(...His couch was leather, it should be fine...)

“You know,” Satoru started, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “We could put on another movie after this...”

Yura laughed again, awkwardly unfurling her legs from under her and stretching them out. “We could,” she agreed.

She felt Satoru grinning against her cheek. “We could even go watch a movie in the bedroom, and then in the bathroom—”

“You don’t have a TV in the bathroom,” she reminded him.

Satoru huffed out a laugh. “We can get creative.”

Yura laughed with him; that they could...

[hockeyboysimagines]

Hi! Can I request smut prompts 20 and 16 for Vince???? I’m so glad to see him on your Masterlist! Thank you💕

Got a bit carried away here but i couldn’t help it hahah. I hope you love this🤍

“I’m just done.” You said exasperatedly as you slumped in your chair.

“Good riddance.” Vince responded from across across the table, pushing a glass full of alcohol at you “That guy was a fucking dick and I’ve hated him since the beginning.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I never said anything because you seemed happy but I mean come on. The guy was a complete idiot.”

He was right. Your now ex boyfriend seemed to make a bad impression with everyone. Now that he was out of the picture, everyone was making their thoughts known. Vince was probably your closest friend and apparently a good actor because you’d never gotten an inkling that he didn’t like him. Or maybe you just weren’t paying attention.

“Why’d you break up anyway?”

You bit your lip “A lot of reasons but the main one is kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? You don’t have to be embarrassed around me. You know that.”

“We broke up because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”

Vince blinked a few times before he cleared his throat “That sounds like a “him” problem. If the guys bad in bed that’s not your fault.”

“I mean he might be. I uh-I never found out.”

There was no way in hell, or any other place you wanted to admit you were a virgin in front of him.

“I’m confused. Why wouldn’t you have sex with him then?”

“Because I just- I didn’t want to with him…for my first time…” you trailed off face bypassing red and turning maroon as you did.

“Your a what? Sorry I’m just-surprised.”

“Why?”

“Come on.” He smiled a little and leaned forward “I’ve seen you out in those short, tight dresses. You can’t be that innocent Y/N. Your too hot to be.”

“We’ll I appreciate that, and although I don’t agree, I am one.” It was hard for you to admit out loud, especially in front of him. He had tons of experience with girls, and rightfully so being so attractive. It made you feel silly and a little bit lame if you were being honest.

Vince stared at you for a long time before he said “Do you not want to be? Because we can change that.”

“I-what?”

Vince was looking at you in a way he never had before. He leaned across the small table, hand coming up to rest on your cheek. His thumb moved slowly across your skin, and down to stroke your lower lip. Very slowly he moved in, lips pressing up against yours. He moved them slowly, but firmly, before he swept his tongue against your lower lip and pushed it inside your mouth.

In one swift movement he pulled you up and across the table, coming to stand between your legs. You let out a breath as he pulled away and came in at a different angle. You felt a warm feeling settle in your stomach as he moved his mouth against your own, hands coming to find the hem of your shirt. You raised your arms above your head, allowing him to pull it off, and then his own. He chucked his shirt away and then pulled you back in to kiss you, one hand tangling in your hair, the other moving down in between your legs. You gasped as his mouth moved across your jaw and down your neck, before moving back up to your mouth.

He pulled away after a few minutes, kneeling down in front of you, hooking one thumb on each side of your underwear and pulling them slowly down your legs. Your heart was beating in your ears as he stood back up and picked you up, carrying you to his room, both of you falling on to the mattress.

He pulled your skirt down your legs and shed his pants, and boxers nodding for you to move up the bed so he could lean down over you. He reached down in between your legs again, motioning for you to spread your legs wider, and he situated himself between them, lips finding yours again. You felt like every nerve ending in your body was a live wire as he pulled back to look at you.

“You want this right?”

You nodded, lips parted as you squirmed around to get comfortable.

“Say it.” He breathed, just barely touching you as he pushed his pelvis into yours.

“I want this-you I want you.”

I’m one swift movement he pushed inside slowly, eyes never leaving yours. You gasped, and rolled your hips around. It felt weird, but good. He pulled out and then pushed back in, head falling into your neck.

You reached a hand up and let your fingernails scrape against his shoulder as he moved again, finding a steady pace. His right hand gripped your waist tightly and his left hand came to rest at the base of your neck, lightly gripping it. You arched your back and pushed your hips up into his, allowing him to go deeper for a moment. He then let out a choked noise.

“Do that again.” He whispered breathlessly.

You gripped the skin of his lower back and obliged.

“Good girl.” He breathed out as you bucked your hips up a second time, and he gave your throat a small squeeze.

Your legs began to ache and a bubbly warm sensation began to pool somewhere around your lower region. An orgasm that nearly made you pass out, roared through your body and blinded you as you arched your back and made you illicit a noise that was between a moan and a scream. Your vision went cloudy, your ears got foggy and your body was spent by the time it was over. Vince had his face resting in your neck, breathing heavily for a few minutes before he picked his head up to look at you, and smiled that beautiful smile.

“You okay?”

You nodded “I think so.” He pulled out and rolled off of you, pulling you on to your side and into a very long slow kiss.

“Okay enough to do it again?” He murmured against your mouth.

You laughed as he continued kissing you.

Holding out for your first had turned out to be a great idea.

[stxleslyds]

✨31 DAYS OF DICK (GRAYSON)✨

2023 EDITION

Hello and Welcome everyone! With February here, the 31DOD prompt list had to make its appearance. This time we will be exploring a bit outside the realm of comics; we will make our panel presentation and writing... Limitless. There is far too much for all of us to say, so this time around the structure has been made more flexible. I also think these prompts are varied and quite fun! (I do hope you guys think so too!)

Just to make something clear before I continue, this prompt list is for the 31 Days Of Dick (Grayson) event that will start in March! Now, as you will notice, this prompt list will be separated in three different sections, this is, of course, to make this 31DOD experience different from the previous one and to maybe test the waters for future editions. Just like last time, you can join 31DOD whenever you like. If you want to do three, nine or twenty days of the event, you are completely free. None of these prompts require you to follow along each day. Also! Enjoy yourselves, have fun and even though there are some prompts where a choice must be made, be respectful and share your thoughts!

Well, without further ado, the 2023 Edition of 31DOD!

FAVOURITES (can be multiple):

1. Quote 2. Nightwing Issue 3. Headcanon 4. Suit 5. Team-up Issue 6. Weapon 7. Fanfiction 8. Skill 9. Dynamic with another character 10. Appearance in a non-Nightwing/team related issue 11. Trope 12. Nightwing comic artist 13. Nightwing comic writer 14. Headquarter 15. Vehicle

THIS or THAT:

16. Dick in Bludhaven or Dick in Gotham 17. Dick in Arkham Knight (video game) or Gotham Knights (video game) 18. Nightwing by Chuck Dixon or Nightwing by Tom Taylor 19. Dick and Roy or Dick and Wally 20. Dick and Bruce or Dick and Clark (choose your favourite parent) 21. OG Teen Titans team (1960 comic) or OG Young Justice team (show) 22. Robin!Dick mini or Dick!Bats mini (mini meaning short comic run)

WHAT IF...?:

23. Dick teamed up with a non-DC character, who would you like it to be? 24. Dick was a character in another universe of your choice, what role would he have? 25. Comics!Dick was sent to another universe, which one would you like it to be? 26. Dick had powers; what do you think they would be? 27. Dick had never lost his parents, what would his life look like? 28. Dick had adopted Jason Todd instead of Bruce? 29. Nightwing had a Black Label book? Would you like it? What would you like to see explored? 30. You had the chance to build the next creative team for a Nightwing run, who would be part of it?

FREE DAY!:

31. Do as you wish! Maybe I missed something that you would have liked to see in this edition… Enjoy your free day!

There it is everyone! If you have any doubts, ideas, questions, feedback about anything relating to 31DOD please do not hesitate and send me an ask! This is meant to be fun to everyone who wants to celebrate Dick Grayson in one of his birth months! If you want to join 31DOD in March, don't forget to use the #31DOD tag so everyone can find the posts relating to the event!

AND! This time, thanks to the always brilliant @hood-ex (who had already helped shape this new edition of 31DOD), we have created a side blog where we will also reblog all your posts! You will find the official 31DOD blog HERE! I hope I see you in March!

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

YOU WILL BE BLOCKED AND REPORTED

requested by @salemwitch96

Request: maybe even a horror movie marathon (with chucky)

Warnings: horror movies, language, chucky being a bit of a dick, spoilers for nightmare on elm street and Rob zombies Halloween

AN: I always love getting your requests and the more I thought of this the more I loved it. Thx for requesting! It took a different then than I originally thought it would but I think it works.

I could feel Chuckys’s chest rise as he sighed. I looked over my shoulder at him and he smiled at me as our eyes met.

“You really enjoy this shit?” I nodded. “Come on. That kid getting pulled into the bed looks so fake and fucked up. How could he not wake up at the feeling of those cold, metal claws against his ribs?” His hand was waving in the direction of the television while the other gently tickled my ribs. “Oh for fucks sake. That doesn’t even LOOK like real blood.” He shifted and for a second I thought he was going to get up and turn off the movie. So I grabbed his hair and tugged. “Ow.” He rubbed the back of his head as I let go.

“Thought you were going to turn it off.” I muttered as he settled back against the couch. He rolled his eyes and leaned over so his face was in mine.

“if you’re going to pull my hair,” his eyes darted down to my lips before snapping back to my eyes. “At least call me pretty.” He started cackling before falling back against the couch again. I shoved him and we finished out the movie. “Pick something good this time.” He teased as I got up to change the movie out. I flipped him off over my shoulder and I could hear the cackle he let out. I smiled at the sound as I looked at the case of the next movie.

“Oh trust me Chuck. This one will be better.” I made my way back to the couch and snuggled down into his side. Chucky pressed a kiss to my temple and pulled me tighter by my shoulder. “I like this.” I looked up at him and he hummed. Pulling his eyes away from the title screen, chucky smiled down at me tucked against his chest. He kissed me again, this time on the lips.

“I do too.” I smiled as I turned to hit play. The movie started to play and Chucky sighed as we curled into each other more. “Even if you pick shitty movies.” I rolled my eyes as he chuckled. “Oh come on. It’s Michael Meyers shouldn’t there be more blood and guts or something?”

“That’s why I like this one.” I pointed out. Chucky nodded and chewed on his lip. “Oh oh oh. It’s coming up.” I gently tapped his arm. Chuckys eyebrows furrowed and then slowly shot up as he noticed what I was now pointing at.

“Sheriff Brackett!” I squealed. Chucky leaned over me and hit the pause button.

“What. The. Fuck.” Chucky got off the couch and slowly stalked towards the screen.

“Come on Chucky. It’s just brad dourif. We’ve had this conversation before.” Chucky shot a glare at me and focused on the image that was now burning on the screen. “Chucky.”

“He’s old.” I gasped at the statement.

“Chucky!” I stood up and went to grab his arm. “I mean it’s true but that’s no way to say it. What did you expect? All the other movies we’ve seen with him in it has been from like the 80s.” Chucky let me wrap my arms around his. His eyes darted back and forth over the screen.

“Fuck it.” He muttered before hitting eject and putting the movie away. He gently shrugged out of my grip and walked off to the bedroom. The door closed with a slam and I stood there debating what to do. Sighing, I dug through my collection and found ‘it’s the great pumpkin Charlie Brown’. Either the sound of it would draw Chucky out or it would give him ample time to calm down before I went to talk to him. Something about the holiday special was calming to the both of us.

About halfway through, the door opened and Chucky emerged. I kept my focus on the television as he slowly came to sit down next to me. There was space between us and Chucky made sure to stay on the edge of the couch. His hands were in his lap and his focus was drawn to the screen. Despite the heaviness that hung in the air, the silence between the two of us was comfortable. Once the show ended, Chucky slowly got up and removed the disc. For the first time, my eyes trailed after his every move. Riffling through the fridge, Chucky eventually gave up and grabbed some candy from the bowl we had used earlier in the night to pass out candy. He leaned against the counter as he played with the wrapper.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. His eyes refused to meet mine and I focused on his long fingers spinning the candy.

“It’s alright.” I responded. “You have a thing. I know that. I shouldn’t have even considered it.” Chucky finally looked over at me, his fingers stopping their fidgeting.

“No. You like the movie. We both like dourif. It should be expected. Eventually.” He let out a soft chuckle. “You have nothing to feel sorry for (Y/N). And yes I have a thing about getting old. But it shouldn’t prevent you for enjoying a movie. Especially one I know you like.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And until that point it was actually really nice. Just sitting there spending time with you.”

“I can watch it later Chucky.” I got up and made my way over to him. Slowly and gently, I wrapped my arms around his waist. I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s watch something else. You pick this time.” He smiled at me before untangling himself and going to find something to watch.

[bleedingcoffee42]

Yes! That one! For me it's another reason to like the guy xD Reminds me of a cat behavior, tbh. If he didn't want to do something, he did not. When he wanted something, he got that. Like when Chuck was shot, he just refused to let him die.

You know, he probably could have been a real PAIN IN THE ASS sometimes, as a officer and a human being in general. I sometimes wonder how he behaved around officers who outranked him and how he took orders he thought were stupid.

I mean, it would be funny if the "Dick" was sometimes used as a short version of Richard, sometimes affectionately and sometimes as an insult. Probably didn't happen, but would work in a fic xD

Can see them all on ao3 or even on a discord arguing about the smallest thing like a herd of chickens over a worm.

But it's hilarious, because it would be like he used every godamned nice way to tell Dick to fuck off and nothing worked, so he used the Nixon card. And it didn't work anyway, because Dick was a dick (pejorative meaning).

I'm sure he was a handful. I'm sure so much of why nobody can answer things is because they took a 'I just don't want to know' stance. Winters had more than a few of the guys running to him tattling about things Speirs did that was unfair and Tab just left. According to his letter he never explained why he was evacuated and the medical records look like he used an old knee injury to go home rather than deal with Speirs. And 'Why you took Nixon and Welsh but not me and left me with Speirs. j/k but not really' was a little much. WHY did you leave him Dick?

Dick said Speirs could take orders but made bad personal decisions? I don't know if that was about murder, yelling at guys to dig up boulders, Matheson's Slutty Speirs comment, or how he 'was different with the men than with the officers'. Richard, THAT is what you wanted...right? That's why you were mad at Buck. But Sparky was out drinking and shooting with Carson. "A real human person" to Lipton who was very eloquent and that was such a weird phrase. AND Dick starts out pretty positive about Speirs but then swings to 'Murdery bastard' later on, but has to say they were 'really close' in that one interview and I don't think they were? Sure as hell weren't when he wouldn't leave him alone, he took the phone off the hook, went to Montana and then told him he was too deaf to hear phonecalls. (You remain a legend, Sparky.)

I can picture Ron throwing a letter to Dick in the mailbox, getting in his Buick and driving up to LA and arriving on Nix's doorstep with a bottle of Vat69, a tin of cookies and a photocopy of Dick's letter and just saying, "I'm being nice, but he's being a real dick. You handled him during the war, do it again now. He's about to get his package of Hershey's Kiss shoved up his ass."

Nix in a chair, not doing his physical therapy for his leg surgery, having been ordered to stop drinking for his many health issues watching the bottle like a hawk. "Sparky!!! Long time no see."

"And who the fuck is David Webster?"

[diminuel]

Dean forcing cas to hang out with the demon that is wearing his dead child’s corpse (and being a major dick through out it all) will always bother me tbh. He’s having to work with the being walking around his son’s dead body and dean has no empathy for him??

Cas isn’t even allowed a moment to grieve and anytime he tries to say how painful it is to even LOOK at jacks dead body dean rolls his eyes and treats him like dirt and is just the worst, idk what they were thinking.

Cas wasn’t even allowed to express how horrifying it would have been to see and -know- Dean was moments away from killing jack. He doesn’t get to react to that?? Cas is barely allowed to show hurt about the cruel ways he is treated after Mary. I just really hate the later seasons 💔

I haven't rewatched S 15 in a while, so my comment has to be taken with a grain of salt. But I have the vague memory that Dean was surprised to hear that Cas was so affected (or that Cas admitted to being affected by having to work with and share space with Belphegor wearing Jack).

Dean's just all anger at Chuck and he doesn't see anything else, he doesn't expect anyone else to feel something different than he is feeling. I don't think that the Winchesters are particularly good at empathy... It's more like... "I am angry so you have to be angry!" And "I am angry at your actions, so you have to suffer either by a) being abandoned by me (usually Sam and Dean's way of dealing with it, see S5 or S9 for example) or b) stay around and suffer my anger (Dean usually with Cas. It's hard to abandon Cas, so being mean and giving him the cold shoulder is more effective.)"

I do think Cas' reaction to Dean planing to trap Jack and then later kill him was not as strong as it should have been. It barely even seems to register and Cas doesn't hold it against Dean because it's easier to blame Chuck? But Dean wasn't controlled by Chuck, Dean still made his own decision (including to not go through with killing Jack and himself in the process). I feel they lingered longer on the fact that Dean threatened Kaia with a gun than they did on Dean wanting to kill Jack.

But you are absolutely right: Cas isn't really allowed to show hurt, for anything. And he gets further punished for his choice to leave the bunker as if Dean was the one wronged by him leaving (which is something I don't really enjoy when I read fanfic which is why I say I want to read fics that take Cas' side in the divorce *lol*)

I'm not even sure what the show is trying to say in terms of guilt regarding Jack. We can all see what was there on screen and make up our own minds (I'm in the "Sam and Dean have a brain too" camp that refuses to put the blame of Mary's death on Cas just because Cas didn't tell them about his suspicions right away. Dean didn't tell Cas about what Donatello said either! But well. Winchester morals, we know they suck. And the show often veers towards confirming Winchester morals even though we as viewers can see that they suck.)

Sorry for long rant. I have many feelings about this.

[iheartsunset]

I fully accept all your headcanons as canon in the PLCU, Papa Louie Cinematic Universe, a universe more expanded, fleshed out and with more likable characters then the Marvel Cinematic Universe, so, may I ask if you have any Carlo Romano and/or Chuck headcanoms? I'd love to hear them!

(AAAA I’m so sorry for taking so long on this ask! I’ve had a busy month at school and a lot of stuff to finalize for my college admissions. But thank you so much, especially for saying how much you love my HCs. Im always happy to do them, so ask away!)

Papa Louie Carlo Romano HCs

-Carlo Romano is a 21 year old musician and Scooperia worker who lives in a Portallini Mediterranean-style villa with his sister, cousin, father, aunt, and stepmother. He’s the mandolin playing heartthrob of The Romano Family Quartet as well as a popular music teacher in spite of his young age. While the family band, Scooperia, and teaching gigs keep him busy, he’s also studying to become a composer. When he’s not playing or working, he can be seen on fun dates with Koilee or giving advice to other workers.

-Handsome, charming, and crafty, Carlo Romano has made quite a reputation for himself as a womanizer. His knowledge of romance stems from his mother’s old love songs, romance novels, and romcoms, and he uses what he’s learned in order to woo different girls, only to break their hearts once he realizes that he doesn’t feel the same way for them. He’s fascinated with the concept of finding “the one” and is looking for someone who makes his heart flutter the way can he can so easily do to others. Carlo is also a reliable and understanding teacher who knows how to make learning instruments fun. He takes inspiration from the beautiful surroundings for his music, and can often be found using nearby objects to craft a tune that he’ll alter write down in his notebook. He also cares deeply for his family and misses his late mother, uncle, and grandparents greatly. Willow jokingly calls him a Wattpad love interest because, well, just look at him. I’d say he’s a himbo, but he’s actually very aware and very intelligent.

-He and Koilee, despite him being kind of a dick and her not liking him because Olivia didn’t like him, have become a very cute couple. In spite of them both having insecurities and issues interacting with others properly, they’ve found an understanding in their circumstances and fell in love. They don’t have too many shared interests outside of romantic broadway shows and instruments, but they like to introduce their hobbies to each other on dates. Their families love each other, but Olivia has told Carlo that if he breaks Koilee’s heart, she will replace his mandolin strings with spaghetti noodles.

-Carlo can play a multitude of instruments, all of which he learned from his parents, grandparents, and aunt and uncle. They include the mandolin, acoustic and electric guitar, flute, trumpet, cello, and the piano. Koilee has taught him how to play the biwa and Olga has gotten him interested in the balalaika. He and Scarlett give all sorts of music lessons with their wide range of instruments, with Marty being a their favorite student (Clover smashed a drum over Carlo’s head and Rudy won’t stop speed playing while chanting “gotta go fast”).

-He is a theater kid. As a theatre kid, I mean that in a bad way. He’s always the lead, but he’s pretty bossy and standoffish. However, if anyone else insults the techies or the rest of the cast, he will ruin their social life because he might be a menace, but he’s not a monster. He’s a badass when it comes to Shakespeare and classic musicals.

-Carlo once wrote a satirical YA romance novel that was the most cheesy, trope-y, and deluded thing he’d ever read. He meant for it to be a joke, but his family loved it and insisted he publish it, to which it became a massive hit. Do not talk to him about it, he will just cry.

-He owns a black and red striped Fiat with gold rims and a Calypso Island lei hanging from the rear view mirror, making him one of the few characters to own a car. The others are Rita, Rollie, Connor, Prudence, Roy, Willow (at least she used to), and James (also used to).

-He has gotten into two fist fights with Pinch Hitwell in the Scooperia and the Hotdoggeria in a battle for who got to keep their shared hairstyle. The winner, both times, was Hank, who is now very sick of having to settle their constant disputes and threatening to arrest them.

-He and Koilee believed that their first meeting was when they were both stranded in Oniontown and swindled by Guy Mortadello. However, they had actually met a few times beforehand. The first was when they were kids, only a month after Carlo lost his mother. While visiting Sakura Bay for a gig, his family went to the aquarium, where he wandered off and stared at the huge koi fish tank, reminiscing about his mother. A young Koilee sat beside him and while he was cold at first, they eventually bonded since she had also recently lost her parents. He left soon after, and they didn’t retinitis until much later. Koilee has also shown up on his few solo trips to Sakura Bay in order to point him in the right directions.

-Being one of Marty’s best friends, he’s made an appearance in many Scarlett and the Shakers fan fictions as a classic best friend character. This has fueled the fire in Carlo Romano x readers, where the inaccurate characterizations make him want to actively walk into the woods and live as a hermit for the rest of his life. In one particularly horrifying case, he was in a DJ Honey Buster x Carlo Romano E rated fanfic on AO3. Neither Hugo, Kayla, Koilee, nor Carlo have read it, but Willow just happened to stumble upon one late night. She is now not the same person she used to be.

-His friends include Hugo, Scarlett and the Shakers, Janana, Nevada, James, Chuck, Cooper, and Prudence. He’s tried to make some friends in fellow celebrities, Whippa and Mousse, but they’re creepy as hell and most certainly have ties to the mafia. He and his friends mostly listen to music together, cook, watch movies, and go on gondola trips. They always go to him for help with romantic gestures and for relationship advice, to varying success.

-He hates coffee because of its bitter taste. Also because last time he drank a few too many cups and was found crying hysterically while stuck to the ceiling with his claws by Olga. The living room was organized entirely by color and the dishes by alphabetical order.

-He may argue with his family a lot, but he would do absolutely anything for them. He’s protective of Gino and Bruna, often accompanying them on their errands to make sure they’re safe. Carlo was definitely a mama’s boy, and he was absolutely devastated when she died. He and his father have kind of been distant since his mother’s death, but he’s always called on to help Eduardo fix things around the house or write music. He also took an immediate liking to Olga, and he can be seen helping her cook foods to visit his aunt with. His family loves him, too, but they always chew him out for his many failed dates.

-He’s the guy who takes out his guitar or Mandolin at the party and starts singing. Don’t be that guy.

-Carlo Romano is on the S tier of my Papa Louie sexyman tier list for a good reason. I love this guy so much!

Papa Louie Chuck HCs

-Chuck Ferrara is a 19 year old editorial model and Wingeria worker who lives in a Tastyville apartment with his best friend and foster brother, Taylor. Prior to him being hired at the Wingeria, he took many odd jobs to support himself and had even considered becoming a firefighter. Now that his new job provides plenty of pay, tips, and days off, Chuck has decided to focus all of his energy into becoming a famous supermodel.

-Chuck is an a-hole, and I mean that wholeheartedly. Not in a himbo, jock kind of way, I mean he is a terrible guy on purpose. He likes to make his order complicated and complains about the tiniest things to the workers just to piss them off. He has bad manners, a terrible attitude, stupid ideas, and an ego. He does have moments where he can be kind of nice, but he’s only completely nice to Taylor, Utah, and his late mother. While he might be classified as a male Karen, he has been known to protect poor, defenseless workers from other Karens. Emery has almost the same personality as him, which has terrified him to the point of changing some of his ways so as not to traumatize Utah even further.

-He first met Utah at Calypso Island during a shared modeling gig, and when she mentioned that she also did tours, he found every excuse to drag Taylor to “see all the great sights of Calypso Island.” Taylor, knowing damn well that Chuck slept through every history lesson and was terrible at hiding his staring at Utah through his sunglasses, told him to man up and ask her out. He finally asked her out by intimidating politely asking Robby to help him make a pineapple edible arrangement with a card to ask her out. When that got lost in the mail after Vincent got caught up in bad weather, he threatened convinced Carlo Romano to help woo her with a song, he got a mandolin to the head instead. When he had just about enough and demanded requested Captain Cori to fly a sign on her ferry asking for Utah to go out with him, she straight up told him to man up and ask her. Utah, throughout this entire ordeal, made a list of his failures to tease him with later.

-Chuck, Taylor, and Tohru are all battling to have the highest scores on all of the arcade machines in Papa’s restaurants. So far, Tohru is winning, but the last game has a nearly unbeatable high score from Radlynn. She covers her eyes. She can’t see. How is this possible.

-Read my “How Nevada met Chuck and automatically hated him” post in order to understand his relationship with the rest of the Calypso Fam, but he’s kinda been accepted as one of their own. Alberto, Kahuna, and Gremmie invite him to guys’ nights and outings, where they always have a good time pulling pranks, watching sports channels, and eating great foods. Nevada, while she did attempt to murder him within 20 seconds of meeting him, does respect him as Utah’s boyfriend and entrusts her to his care. While the others only tolerate Okalani and Gremmie’s dad, he likes to sit in the passenger seat of their cars while they complain to him.

-Not only is Chuck an enabler for all of Taylor’s stupid shenanigans, buts I very likely that he either planned said shenanigans or caused them somehow. Take, for example, the time he made Taylor and his friends stop their sleepover and drove them in a van to a rival wing store whose wing statue he wanted to steal. Even though he was the only one who could drive, he insisted on going in himself while Taylor kept watch and Willow and Koilee stayed in the van to help him make a getaway. That quickly went awry when he broke his hand getting the statue and everybody else in the car either had no license nor any knowledge of cars (Koilee), had a suspended license and trauma associated with driving (Willow), or was crying too hard to even function (Taylor). So it resulted in Mandi having to drive them back home with her mom van while narrowly avoiding capture from Hank. And that’s just in tier 1 of the “Chuck is a dumbass” iceberg.

-He totally listens to either boy bands or surfer music. Psychedelic rock and EDM music have a special place in his playlist. He’s also saving up to buy a white Jeep with a soft top and the doors taken off so that he could blast his music all he wants.

-He has totally either burn food on purpose or spit in someone’s food. He does not care. He has no customer service skills. He’s made multiple customers curse at him or cry. That’s why Mandi makes him be the cook.

-Chuck’s mother passed away when he and Taylor were 17. She passed away in the middle of a heart surgery. Chuck, who had been slightly nicer before, almost completely shut down afterwards and began growing more hateful towards the world around him. Luckily, he still has Taylor to help look out for him.

-He can be seen hanging out with Taylor and his friends or with Utah and her friends, mostly because he’s just tagging along. He has made a few good confidants in James, Penny, Scooter, Willow, Alberto, Gremmie, Carlo Romano, and Rudy. He shot Allan with a pineapple gun once, and now Allan thinks they’re buddies.

-Chuck’s room is covered in posters, cardboard cutouts, pillows, and other merchandise of Guy Fieri. Taylor is very concerned by this, but he’s too scared to do anything about it.

-He was a good contender for Rizzo in Allan’s Grease revival, but his modeling schedule made it difficult to attend rehearsals. Once the Wingeria started providing a more stable income, Chuck was able to book a supporting role as Quince Tamarind, a movie star that Mango meets in act one of Allan’s original play, “Mango Morris’ Bike Ride”.

-I absolutely adore Chuck. He is such an icon and I love him.