#How to Spy on a Cell Phone

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[ybklix]

hidden lovers

★ pairing: idol bf!lee know x fem!reader

✦summary: Minho and you have this little game of dating in secret, but keep a completely opposite image for the rest of your friends.

♡ genre - warnings: smut, mean and soft dom minho, established relationship, enemies to lovers briefly written; fingering, mutual masturbation, edging, oral sex (f. rec.), cunnilingus, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names.

word count: 5k

╰ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ masterlist - taglist forms

୧ ‧₊˚request by anon₊ ˚⊹♡ secretly dating minho w enemy plot yesyes<3

a/n: i hope u liked it 🍮 mwahmwah, i think lino has a puddin in the pic lmao so cute

divider by enchanthings

It was pouring rain outside, it was one of those rainy summer days when you really missed your boyfriend, you wanted to be in his arms watching a movie or spying through his cell phone whatever he was doing. But he was busy, he couldn’t visit you so often because he spent hours at the company, he arrived exhausted at his apartment which he shares with three other colleagues and friends; plus it was that season when coincidentally the rest of his seven co-workers and best friends were more glued to him since it was when they were hard at work on their new album, so being so close to them, they usually tend to be insistent and ask in detail what he does outside of work and Minho, your boyfriend, could not risk them finding out that there is something between you.

So, amidst the heavy rain, your perfect signal fell with it; Han Jisung, your brother and one of Minho’s closest friends sent you a message, asking you for help with household activities in his apartment, blackmailing you while reminding you that he was the one giving you money, since he’s rich and an extremely important pop star and claiming that it was one of those days when they didn’t go to the company and Chan took the opportunity to put the rest of them to clean their respective apartments. You honestly didn’t think much of it, going to your brother’s apartment would mean you would see Minho one way or another, despite living in different apartments, you were pretty sure you would be able to see him.

You thought it was strange that Minho didn’t tell you that he didn’t go to work today, you thought he must have been busy ordering Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin to clean their rooms like little kids since it was your boyfriend who was in charge of the place. So anyway, you decided not to tell him and see him as a surprise; you dressed up perfectly, you haven’t seen him for days except through facetime and you really missed the closeness and smell of your man nearby.

You left your apartment and headed to the building of your older brother and his other almost older brothers, Chan, Changbin and Hyunjin and sighed as you passed through the wide hallway, the famous hallway reserved for the eight of them, only two doors on each side of the hallway, the place where they lived, you sighed, because you knew that Minho was probably in his apartment.

You knocked on the door, where a very confused Chan opened it for you, wearing comfortable clothes, with his curls and his face totally free of any traces of makeup.

“Oh, hi, Y/N, I didn’t know you were coming.”

His confused countenance gradually softened into a smile. He was confused as Han had authorized your entrance all the way to his door without previously letting anyone know you were coming.

“Yeah, well neither did I...”

“Come on in, we’re just cleaning up a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s just what Han calls me for, apparently.”

You walked in and even Chan couldn’t help but watch you as you walked by, smelling your perfume and getting slightly lost in your bare legs through your short dress; which you were wearing only for, who they consider, your enemy.

“Agh, my dear sister who’s going to help me do the laundry and dishes, how good you look, have you eaten yet?” said in a fake and dramatic tone your brother, greeting you with an exaggerated expression of excitement and hugging you, which he never does and was just overacting and being funny.

“Fuck you, Han” you answered him as a joke, you were really there just to see Minho and you were starting to get desperate, you wanted to run into his arms and kiss his nose exactly where he had his little freckle.

Han changed his expression to an annoyed one as soon as he pulled away from you after his brief hug, “Hey, watch your mouth, I’m older remember. Also, why are you wearing so much perfume, are you wearing makeup?”

“I can’t believe you brought your sister all the way here just to help you” Chan interjected.

“Hey, Y/N, nice to see you” interrupted Hyunjin as he came out of his room and walked around the apartment.

“Hi” you replied sweetly smiling at Hyunjin.

“She came to see me, it’s obvious” you heard Changbin suddenly say, who came out of the laundry room, approaching Han and you.

Changbin winked at you and gently grabbed your waist, flirting and teasing you, making Hyunjin laugh. But Han didn’t find it the least bit funny so he opened his big round eyes in shock, raising his eyebrows, ready to exclaim in his typical voice:

“Ya, are you out of your mind? Get your dirty hands off my sister or I’ll kill you.”

Chan laughed at Han’s reaction, who was also joking, since he fully trusted each of his friends and knew that they were just playing around, he knew that none of the men he lived with every day would touch you and Han had a strict rule of not trying anything with you, since you were the closest to them, all the time living with them, a rule which they all respected since at least four of them also had sisters and understood the seriousness of the situation... however it wasn’t quite like that, Minho was the one who dared to touch you and would fuck you every day if only you could be together all the time and, for the rest, Minho was really the last option in the list of people who would even have anything to do with you, since for them, you two are enemies and hate each other. Plus Han would never agree to you dating any of his friends, you were strictly forbidden and he reminded them of that every chance he got.

Changbin let out a guilty chuckle and walked away from you.

“Well, I was assigned to do the dishes and laundry, please help me, my room is a mess, I’ll clean that up. I’ll buy you five Chanel bags, I promise, please” spoke your brother, you rolled your eyes and walked towards the kitchen without answering him.

Hours later, the night came and you finished without a problem, you handed the freshly washed clothes to each of them, you left the boys’ kitchen spotless and went a little frustrated to your brother’s room to see what he was doing, he had finished cleaning too, tiredly you sat on his bed, each time losing hope of spontaneously seeing your boyfriend and surprising him, so you thought about going to the bathroom to send him a message, saying you were there and that if he had the rest of the night he should spend it with you, making a little drama by reproaching him for not telling you he would have the day off, supposedly, since you knew he might be cleaning.

“I’m thinking of buying another piece of furniture and putting it in...” started to tell you Han, pointing to a part of his room but you decided not to pay attention at all,

And suddenly a voice, a sound so familiar that it filled every part of your body with excitement, you heard in the distance the typical whine of your boyfriend, followed by his manly voice in a soft whine saying, “Agh, are you guys done already? I really didn’t want to clean up today, why did you guys finish so soon?”

Han opened his eyes in surprise and looked at you with a bit of fear, he also recognized perfectly well that it was Minho.

“Is that Minho?” you asked suddenly, hiding every excited particle of your body, your heart pounding as if you were a young girl about to see her crush.

“Oh no… if you want, I’ll get him out of here before he sees you” Han replied and before you even thought how to stop him he was already leaving his room.

You quickly stood up and went after him.

“Ah, Hannie, let’s go get some dinner and let’s all eat it in my apart...” spoke Minho cheerfully as he saw his friend coming out of the hallway but he didn’t finish the sentence as his world stopped as he saw you coming out behind him.

And there he was, Lee Minho, looking as handsome as ever, in comfortable clothes and a bare face, his hair looking soft and shiny black. You had to contain your joy, feeling him so far away but so close at the same time; as did Minho, who held back with all his might a smile from his lips at the sight of you, instead, his expression tightened completely, furrowing his thick eyebrows, his thin lips pursed a little, his big eyes sharpened if that was possible, looking at you contemptuously and an irremediable tension for the rest of the guys formed in the atmosphere, they all looked at each other complicitly, amused and slightly worried, Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin and Han, moving their eyeballs quickly as they noticed you and Minho were looking at each other.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” spat Minho annoyed.

His tone and demeanor gave you goosebumps, just as it made your pussy throb, it really turned you on to see him upset, he looked so hot, you ran your eyes along his bare arms with your gaze, you wanted his veiny hands on your neck but you had to maintain your sanity and be tough, acting your best role, as Minho’s enemy.

“Minho be nice...” Chan said softly.

“With... that-her, never. Oh, and I see why you guys finished early. That’s unfair, you have a fucking maid” said Minho again in annoyance.

“Minho...” your brother replied in his sternest tone and giving him a dirty look.

“Actually, let’s all eat at Minho’s, that sounds good” you finally spoke, walking and teasing your enemy.

“You can’t come into my apartment” Minho answered you, his eyes dark with desire as he saw how pretty you looked and it made him feel so good to know you were doing it for him.

You knew that look so well, so intimidating and wetting you in seconds; while for the rest it was a look of hatred and spite.

“I’m hungry, let’s eat” Changbin added, approaching you two and gently squeezing your forearms as he saw that you seemed to have a staring contest, “Come on, maybe you’re just mad because you’re hungry.”

The story of you and Minho really was funny, you truly used to be enemies and hated each other; Minho met you when you were younger, for him, back in his trainee years, and instantly thought of you as a spoiled brat who was given absolutely everything, your voice irritated him, the way you acted, everything. You both had such similar personalities that you just couldn’t manage to match each other... until years later, the big revelation fell on Minho with the intensity of a crash, he liked you, you were so cute all of sudden and he also suddenly fantasized about beating your ass to stopping you from being so badly behaved. Your start of romance was so fiery, as you were suddenly confused by his strange behavior, flirting with you while still being rude to you and, since then, a year ago that you’ve been dating. And you decided to hide it for obvious reasons; although Minho had already told you that he had no problem claiming you as his own, that he loved to possess you and have you as his girlfriend, he loved the intensity in which you loved him.

And now acting like enemies in front of everyone and lovers in secret between just you two, became such an exciting game you couldn’t stop, you lived for the mystery and the adrenaline of never getting caught, and when the guys started joking that ‘those who hate each other end up falling in love’ —literally your situation—, Minho would be really mean to you again, but he rewarded you so fucking well that you even forgot why he apologized. Sex after fake hard fights was always the best for you.

Changbin led everyone to Minho’s apartment, everyone without truly thinking about why they followed him and the rest of the people who lived with Minho were surprised at the timely arrival of the rest of his friends and you.

“Woah, what is this? What are you guys doing here?” you watched Jeongin say in surprise as he slowly lowered the cell phone from his face.

The three of them were sitting on the couch in the living room, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin, watching you enter with astonishment reflected on their faces.

“It looked pretty serious the way they all came in” Felix added smiling, “Hello, Y/n.”

“Yongbok don’t say hello to her or I’ll kick you out of the apartment” replied Minho quickly.

“What do you guys want for dinner?” spoke Chan.

“You’re not even invited to this house, plus I’m still not done with my chores” replied Minho directly to you, serious and a bit irritated.

“What you guys haven’t done yet? Let us help you so you can finish soon” spoke Chan kindly again.

“Minho hasn’t done anything, he just kept bossing around” Seungmin exposed him with a smile and pointing at him, causing a soft chuckle among his other two roommates.

“Kim Seungmin, count your days” Minho hissed.

“A whole pile of clothes to be folded is waiting for him in his room” Seungmin joked again.

“Shut up, Seungmin!” exclaimed your boyfriend.

“Y/n should go help him, it would be fun to see them not fighting for five seconds” commented Jeongin amused with his cocky tone and raising his eyebrows.

“Never, I’d rather burn your clothes” replied Minho.

“Yes yes, put them both in punishment” exclaimed Seungmin with a huge smile on his face.

“For all the nights they had their little fights every time we went out” Changbin continued the joke.

Hyunjin and Felix laughed, Han and Chan watched you both with amusement.

“There’s not going to be any more nights together because I’m going to kill every single one of you” mumbled your boyfriend.

You watched the scene, trying to be the strongest and hiding the immense urge you had to indeed see your boyfriend's room.

“No way” Chan lifted his shoulders, “You have to fulfill your duties...”

“Okay, okay, but who said I would agree to help him?” you spoke suddenly.

“Oh, yeah, you both have to go while we order food” Changbin sentenced, waking over to you to gently push you.

“Do it” you heard Han order you.

“Just because I seriously don’t want to fold all those clothes by myself...” whispered Minho.

You looked at him surprised, and with a face of indignation you followed him. But deep down you were just waiting for all the drama to be over and you could be alone with him.

“Wow, he really accepted her help” Hyunjin commented in amazement as he watched you walk to Minho’s room.

“Shut the fuck up, Hyunjin, I’ll cut your tongue out!” shouted Minho to which Hyunjin made a quick funny grimace in response.

“Try not to kill each other in there!” yelled Changbin.

You and Minho stood for a few moments near his door, looking at each other complicit and with your breathing heavy, so eager to be near each other; you watched him through the darkness of his room, diverting your gaze from his big bright eyes to the rest of his room with huge windows overlooking the city, his room was beautiful, after all he was part of a very important group and maintained his reputation by having a luxurious place to live in... and almost at one end of his bed, a pile of clothes waiting to be folded. There were few times that you had entered Minho’s room as privacy was very limited.

You were both waiting for the boys’ attention to be diverted elsewhere and, Minho recognizing and hearing that they finally managed to get distracted, he locked the door. Minho knew them so well and recognized perfectly when their attention was diverted to something new; their loud voices ceased softly as they were heard lower with his door closed and he without wasting any time, grabbed you by the hips, pulling your body to him.

You smiled broadly, once again with every particle of you excited to finally have him near.

“I missed you so much, baby, you look so good today” he spoke to you sweetly, leaning into you and kissing you.

You couldn’t answer him, your whole body went warm as you felt his lips on yours, you both missed each other madly and wanted each other immensely, so quickly the kiss became desperate and lustful, his sharp nose rubbing against your face, your hands wrapping around his neck and stroking his hair; Minho hugged you, leaving his hands on your back and slowly leading you to his bed.

As you bumped against the edge of his bed with your legs, he slowly let his body drop, making you fall onto his bed gently, both of you breathless, lewd with the temperatures of your excited bodies, Minho wanted to make you his now and you needed your boyfriend’s affection so bad that your weak pussy was so soaked and needy for his touch. Minho moved away from you a little, only to pull up your dress and reveal that you were only wearing your panties underneath it, you noticed his disapproving look, still he said sweetly:

“Settle in, princess, make yourself comfortable, so I can touch you better.”

You stirred a little, getting comfortable with his pillows on your back and Minho kissed you again, positioning his body over yours, sticking to you to the point of feeling his swollen hard erection rubbing against your sensitive center, he was kissing you so passionately, getting even for all the nights he had to spend it alone, when he had you as his girlfriend and he was partly able to come and see you, you taking care of him so well. You moaned softly as you felt his cock grinding into your pussy and, Minho being himself, he began to gently ram into you, rubbing and squeezing his member into your needy area, rubbing against your clit, causing you to lubricate yourself more and every muscle in your pussy to throb hungrily for your boyfriend’s cock.

Your groans were held between his lips, but Minho was fucking you slowly and torturously, moving his nimble hips against your pussy, leaving you so wet.

You both caught your breath, Minho watched your face slightly illuminated by the night’s exterior reflected in the window. You gasped, still watching him lovingly, placing your hands on his cheeks.

“I missed you too, Minho.”

“I know, sweetheart, sorry I was busy” gasped Minho breathlessly, enjoying his cock being compressed against the friction of the fabric of your panties on your pussy.

He moved his hand down to your pussy finally, pushing the fabric of your panties aside, reaching down to your entrance and smiling smugly as he noticed how incredibly wet you were. Minho bit his lip and inserted two fingers deep into you, making you moan and the sound of his fingers immersing between your lubed cunt.

“I want to fuck you so bad, princess, c'mon, ask for it, kitten. I loove to hear you beg, you know that, don’t you?”

“Ahh, mmm, M-minho, p-please” you sighed excitedly, his fingers were tickling a sweet spot in you.

You wiggled your ass gently, aroused to have your boyfriend’s fingers working on your sensitive vagina and exploring your insides, as you reached for the hem of his shirt, gently lifting his simple white t-shirt, stroking his abs; Minho smirked again smugly and abruptly slid his fingers out of you.

“You want to touch me too, don’t you, kitten?”

Minho drew a half smile on his face to which you only nodded in a trance, completely lost in the incredibly hot and sexy atmosphere created between you and your boyfriend. He hurried, taking off his shirt and quickly pulling down his shorts and boxers, exposing his very well erect cock, you could appreciate how needy he was too, detonating his veins and his pink tip covered by shiny white precum. You almost sighed, wanting to have fun in so many ways with your boyfriend’s cock, so almost reflexively you directed your hands towards his member, stroking it to feel its stiffness, causing sweet gasps to escape from Minho’s lips, you looked at him, in his face captured pure pleasure, so you wanted to get up, change positions and suck his cock, but he stopped you instantly, also almost reflexively.

“Ah, ah” spoke your boyfriend in disapproval, pushing you off your shoulder, “Be a good girl and do whatever I say and want, okay?”

Minho darkened his gaze more and said it in a tone so intense and demanding but being gentle with you that it made your body tremble in excitement, you bit your lip and nodded.

“Now, stroke my cock and cum in my fingers like a good princess” he spoke again, his dirty words made you throb again, “But... let me see a little bit your pretty body...” Minho licked his lips and abruptly sought a way to pull the straps of your dress to expose your chest, “You always look so good, baby” Minho let his gaze linger on your bare breasts and then came closer and kissed you again.

You were so distracted, blinded by the incredible pleasure built up in your body, busy with your mouths joined, your hands in stroking up and down his cock and, as soon as you felt again the tickle of his fingers touching your pussy, your hairs stood on end; Minho without stopping kissing you, inserted in your entrance three of his fingers, making you gasp at the sensation of your entrance stretching. He moved his kisses down, down your neck, his hot breath hitting your sensitive skin, until his mouth reached your breasts, licking them, sucking them and biting your nipple, while his hand on your pussy fucked you and his thumb caressed your clit, getting his hand and the thin fabric of your panties you were still wearing wetter and wetter.

“We need to discuss later why you only came in that tiny dress, in panties and no bra, to an apartment full of men, you’re such a very bad kitty, you need a little punishment, but you feel so good right now, I wanna make you cum” Minho said, exasperated and excited in your ear.

He was so aroused too, desperate for an orgasm as he felt your hands skilfully but a little clumsily touching all over his length, stroking his glans, his testicles, feeling every inch of him, which dick you were internally screaming for by wanting such a member to be in you right now, but you couldn’t deny it, you loved the way your boyfriend liked to play and entertain your pussy, ramming it with his fingers and crushing and stroking your needy, throbbing clit. Minho gasped loudly, so close to his orgasm whose he took the decision of delaying it himself, he wanted every drop of his cum inside you, so runny and thick drops of his precum fell on your bare abdomen; his cock was so swollen and throbbing and you felt it in your hands that, in a whimper you practically begged him:

“M-minho please fuck me, I need you.”

Minho smiled.

“Then cum to your first orgasm in my hand, sweetie, you can do it.”

He, being pushed to the limit by your caresses on his cock, sped up his movements in your cunt, desperately fitting his fingers deep inside you, enjoying your walls in his digits, the softness of your throbbing clit on his fingertip. You whimpered loudly, staring into his eyes, arched your back, so ready for your orgasm, every muscle in you squeezed with intensity.

“Are you about to cum, kitten? Do it now, come on.”

“Oh, ffuck” you squealed with a shaky voice, catching one last glimpse of Minho’s handsome face with a smug little smile, before your vision blurred and you rolled your eyes slightly back.

Your legs tensed, you squeezed his cock slightly tighter, only to release yourself in orgasm, squirting into his hand, just as he desired.

“Good girl” Minho commented smiling.

He withdrew his fingers and in one swift movement, slipped your panties off and without warning of anything, brought his face up to your pussy, licking your sweet liquid sliding down your hole. You moaned at the sensation of his thick hot tongue, of his lips sticking to your pussy to slurp hard from your entrance to your labia, feeling his high bridge nose rubbing against your core, Minho left his hands on your thighs and began to eat your pussy, raising his piercing gaze, watching with joy your body struggle with your heavy breathing.

This time you enjoyed every movement of his mouth on your pussy, his kisses, his soft bites, the intense sucking and licking; you were in paradise, his pace was hot and slow, little by little speeding up the way he ate your pussy, Minho was enjoying it too, getting harder on his dick, causing a little pain to his erect cock hanging in the air, in need of attention, screaming to cum, but the slight pain was turning him on more, he loved pushing himself to the limit, making you enjoy only you as you deserve it, besides he had this idea or theory, that he didn’t deserve to cum as he wasn’t being the best boyfriend these last days, he missed you and felt guilty for not being able to come to see you, and that you had to be the one who was looking for him.

Minho again sensed your orgasm so close, your gasps rose, honestly the noise didn’t bother him, the walls were thick and his friends were being ten times louder in the living room of the apartment. So he suddenly stopped having his mouth on your pussy, roughly wiped his face with his dry hand and got closer to your face.

“Don’t cum yet, princess, I need to fuck you now” he whispered, giving you a sweet kiss on your cheek.

You saw him in confusion, you couldn’t even groan because you instantly realized that you were finally going to have his cock inside you.

Minho repositioned himself again, took his member and began to tease your wet and needy entrance, stroking his glans into it, sliding it in so gently and just enough to get your hole dilated, but he would pull it out again. You whimpered with excitement and desperation as you perfectly recognized the game your boyfriend was playing.

“You want it don’t you?” he said amused with his typical smug smile as he saw your needy body and countenance, your pussy made a beautiful mess, your length so shiny from your wetness and his licking, your entrance resenting his tip inside you, “So needy for my cock.”

You whimpered, his broad tip slipped out of you and this time he grind your labia with his erection, rubbing himself on them.

“Y-yes, Minho, please, please, please.”

“Only because I’m the best boyfriend” he replied haughtily.

Minho slowly slid his cock inside you, you gasped, he was big and wide, squeezing your walls hard and stretching your entrance. He sighed, almost feeling a relief as he felt his cock around your warm core, he pulled his body closer to yours, wanting to feel your body touching his; he was so deep inside you that he almost took your breath away, still, he began to thrust you slowly, never leaving his depth and intensity, moving his hips to take you to the limit, caressing your cervix, and his balls rubbing against your exposed pussy. You tightened your legs and encircled his body, while your hands rested on his strong back, you both began to pant, his slow deep thrusts heating your lower abdomen, torturing you but sending you to heaven itself at the same time. Minho kept a pace that only he knew how made you go crazy, slow, then he accelerated fast, pounding you hard. You dug your nails into his back, you were so close to your orgasm; Minho sped up the movements of his cock in you, but as he felt your walls squeezing his member hard, he couldn’t take it, he gasped loudly in your ear and ejaculated, milking him dry every drop of his cum in an intense orgasm. You felt his cum instantly, your legs also squeezed his body tighter and you whimpered loudly, cumming again and covering your boyfriend’s cock in your so intense orgasm.

Minho left his head on your neck for a few seconds, then distanced himself and watched your pussy image after the action.

“So sweet and all mine” Minho said, looking down at his cock sliding out of your core, dripping the glorious orgasm of both of you in a glistening liquid; he moved closer to you again, to give you a sweet kiss, your mouth was dry, from moaning and breathing by it, but quickly Minho’s soft lips ceased any sensation, “I love you” he whispered into your lips, bringing your foreheads together.

You smiled, about to answer him something cheesy, but Minho’s doorknob turning sharply and banging on his door alerted you a little.

“Dinner’s ready, why is the door locked?” you heard Seungmin’s voice shout from the other side.

“Linoo” you now heard Changbin’s voice shout, “Are you okay?! He must be dead already.”

Minho sighed in frustration, “These idiots...” he muttered, catching his breath near your face.

—————-

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion) (Boba Count: 2):

This is the woman who always has anything you might need in her bustle. Portable phonographs, certainly, but what else? Alcohol, without doubt. Knives? Probably. More knives? Wouldn't be surprised. Candy? Always good to have something to mollify Hampton with. More alcohol? Well, James can always do with a little nip. Another knife? Why not? Lockpick set? I mean, where do you keep yours?

Everyone messaging us “please let Madge kiss [redacted]” we will remember your support during this difficult time should this go our way

But MADGE NEEDS TO WIN THIS ONE, JUST LOOK AT THE PROPAGANDA MAN

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats) (Boba Count: 2):

What on earth could possibly be sexier than being presumed dead by the village she lives in at large. She genuinely cares about funerals as an art form, she puts so much care into her work. Possibly bisexual if that helps. Ghost wrote a wildly popular erotic novel with the help of village’s reverend. Come on just please vote for Antigone I’m so very sleepy and I can’t think of more reasons but I promise they’re there

Antigone's mess might be an acquired taste, but I think it's a deeply attractive mess.

SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH A BLOND GUY ONCE SHE EARNED HER REST

Art of Antigone Funn with thanks to @acornzest.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion):

Madge Stallion was submitted without propaganda.

we gotta get our girl some propaganda. she would hate it, but the mystery of it all is kinda part of the appeal here.

Madge stallion NEEDS no propaganda

Madge: so sexy she needs no propaganda

#madge stallion is a great woman to lose to

#Madge she's a sassy lesbian detective what else do you want

#madge stallion needs no propaganda #by virtue of being madge

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Raging lesbian in a lavender marriage

Seduced someone working for the enemy

Is just as chaotic and at time brain cell-less as her male companions

Loyal but still willing to call her friend since childhood out on his bullshit

She canonically fucks. Like in canon she fucks so much. See above about seducing the enemy and then pepper in her on again off again romance with Martha Hudson.

#madge propaganda time : #she will flirt with basically any girl she sees and oh she does it so well #also !!! she once flirted and got on with technically an enemy in the middle of a spying mission ???? #she went like 'oh sorry just gotta go to the loo' to go spy in the house got caught and flirted so well she 1/ got laid 2/ got information #3/ came back like nothing happened #with some motivation she could flirt and get a boner from a dead rock tbh #madge stallion IS THE SEXIEST

#it's that time again #madge madge madge #she's earned it

#!!!!!

#home stretch

MADGE MADGE MADGEEEEE

Madge propaganda from a show that had the pleasure of guesting with her! At the end of the day no matter how you squeeze or present it, a great character is a great character and Madge is the best by a mile. Wonderful one-liners, complex and layered relationships with everyone in the cast around her, a messy and real depiction of female sexuality (especially a lesbian!) that she is never punished or demeaned for, and all of this brought to life in a performance that could make a phone book fun. Look and you’ll see: Madge’s writing and acting speaks for itself!

#madge here #yes you have to choose #choosemadge #we need the points #much appreciated #very sincerely yours

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats):

Amazing character arc/growth; shadows follow her around; afraid of the sun; methanol is her drink of choice; is often told “I thought you were dead” despite a complete lack of evidence other than her deathly paleness; the morgue is her personal sanctuary; absolutely hilarious character; demanded to be co-owner of Funn Funerals with her brother rather than allowing him to continue running the business alone;(spoiler) decided NOT to get with her frenemy who she had been doing a will-they-won’t-they thing with the entire series!; writes smut in her free time

#antigone!!!!!!!!! #i just need one chance with her #she's perfect

#antigone!!!!!

*Cracks knuckles* Team Antigone is back and ready to do some damage. #antigone sweep year 2

#YEAR TWOOO

#Antigone sweep #!!!!

#thrilled to participate as always

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

VOTE FOR ANTIGONE!!!

What on earth could possibly be sexier than being presumed dead by the village she lives in at large. She genuinely cares about funerals as an art form, she puts so much care into her work. Possibly bisexual if that helps. Ghost wrote a wildly popular erotic novel with the help of village’s reverend. Come on just please vote for Antigone I’m so very sleepy and I can’t think of more reasons but I promise they’re there

EVERYONE VOTE ANTIGONE FUNN PLS

I'm voting for Antigone not because she's sexier (she is) but because she needs at least One Win in her life. #girl failure solidarity

1. she is very sexy. We know she's deathly pale, she's described as transparent more than once as well as green and blue-skinned, she's 35~38 depending on what season you're listening to. She's allergic to like everything.

Her hair is canonically always a mess and she uses it to hold on to bones and things she's gonna need later. She wears the same dress every day (it has a hole in it)

She's one with the shadows and can blend in with her surroundings to a supernatural degree.

2. She is rough and socially inept and artistic and the most passionate person you can imagine. She puts her heart and soul into her work as a mortician, SHE CREATES PERSONALIZED EMBALMING FLUIDS TO MAKE THE CORPSES SMELL NICE and she WILL tell you about it.

She is somehow always angry or flustered about something and she will pull victorian era phrases you cannot imagine. She's been saying Christ Alive since before it was cool.

3. SHE LOVES SEXY THINGS!! she is the most fitting for this tournament cause she's the queen of learning to accept her desires!! She loves old french films and their weirdly shot sex scenes, she's canonically really good at writing erotica and likes to read it too. There's a whole episode dedicated to her conquering her fears and appearing on a naked calendar. Also we hear glimpses of her fantasies and she wants to tie up and dom the guy she likes so there's that too I guess.

She spent 17 years locked in her mortuary cause she was sad. SHE WANTED TO BECOME A CLOWN AS A KID. She is everything to me and I love juno very much but she is sexier and deserves to be known that way. VOTE ANTIGONE

[zylev-blog]

Tucker dug himself in quite a deep hole.

At first, it started because he was bored. He also wanted to test his skills in tech, since he was trained by Technus to use technology in a way nobody living could even do. He first did some simple probing, learning about the system that Batman used and learned how to keep his tracks hidden. He honestly thought breaking into the White House or NASA would be harder than breaking into Batman’s files, but it wasn’t. Everything was absurdly easy to get to. He could see the workarounds in the code just as easily as he could breathe.

Once he learned how to erase his tracks completely, he started with basic knowledge from Batman’s system. Over the course of a month, he read all the police reports, hero and villain reports, and the contingency plans that Batman had. Boy was Batman a paranoid man.

Then he delved deeper. He learned everything there was to know from over a decade of vigilante work. Then he used the Batcomputer (he had found out that it was actually called that from Nightwing himself. He had camera access, of course he was going to spy on the bats.) to hack into the Justice League system. He had to stop the manic chuckle that threatened to spill past his lips. He was just like the ghosts in a way that he loved to indulge his obsessions. And stalking vigilantes had become one of his.

Danny and Sam knew about what he was doing and never tried to stop him. The reason was simple: Tucker had warded against Amity Park so thickly, that not even magic users knew of the town’s existence. It wouldn’t show up on a map, or in books, or in history. Tucker might have used Clockwork for the last part, but the time ghost allowed him to hide Amity Park from the world. So there must have been a reason the ghost had allowed it.

After Tucker gained access to the Justice League files, he had become worried. There was a lot that they didn’t tell the public. The more he read, the more resentful he got. Failed alien invasions, kidnapping, mind control, cloning… the list went on and on.

If he didn’t know that the Justice League were the good guys… he might think they were the villains.

But they were the good guys, right?

He wasn’t so sure anymore.

It had been almost four months since he had first hacked Batman’s computer. From what he could tell after hacking Bruce Wayne’s cell phone, nobody knew that he was inside their systems. Nobody was that good of an actor. He would watch the Justice League briefings, watch their day to day, learn all the gossip, and then he would check Batman’s computer. It was a ritual he had started. A way to keep Amity Park safe should the Justice League turn against them or the world. He made his own contingency plans based off of Batman’s plans. The exception being that as a last resort, his plans would be fatal to anyone who struck against him. He just hoped that the day would never come.

Everything changed when Pariah Dark stole Amity Park. It had taken the Justice League almost two days to realize that there was a gigantic crater in Illinois. Nobody knew what had happened. When the city reappeared, the borders that had once protected it were also stripped away. The systems had been damaged in the fight, and in the teleportation process. There were so many that had died in the battle, so many more that were now homeless, or orphans. The city mourned for the dead—and the dead mourned their sacrifice. The evil King had been dethroned, but would Amity Park be the same? The world now knew it existed, and there was no ghost portal for him to run to Clockwork from. They were on their own.

As Tucker watched the Justice League try to help the citizens, he felt anger in the pit of his stomach. These people, these ‘heroes’, what would they learn about his people? Were they going to hurt them like they’ve hurt their own?

No. He was not going to let them hurt anyone from Amity Park.

He solicited all of the teenagers of Amity Park to help him rebuild the borders. Kick out the Justice League. His plan was met with some resistance, but they trusted Tucker. Within 24 hours, they had gotten the borders back online. The Justice League were then forced out of the town, and the town disappeared from existence once more.

Now if only he could get rid of the Justice League that tried to linger. Batman himself was proving difficult to get rid of. Especially since all of his bats kept trying to come out to play. Well Tucker had an ace up his sleeve too, and two could play that game.

[howtocatchachatinghusband]

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[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Bonus)

Paige wants to try scissoring, but she’s too shy to tell you.

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 1.2k

Themes: smut, humor, fluff if u squint

A/N: one of my beautiful anons suggested this and I just want to thank whoever it was. This shit is too good. To those who enjoy shy, bottom Paige: you are welcome ;)

~

“Babe,” you say for the third time, trying to catch Paige’s attention, who was deeply engrossed in her cell phone. She had been acting weird all day. She was usually all over you, clinging onto you, trying to get you as close to her as possible. But today, she was glued to her phone, only giving you short answers, and you were starting to get annoyed. 

“Madison!” You snap, and her head whips up to meet your furrowed brow with a guilty look on her face. 

She smiles sheepishly at you. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, leaving her phone face down on the arm of the couch and coming over to where you were sitting. “Didn’t mean to ignore my pretty girl.”

You look at her suspiciously as she pulls you into her lap, pressing hot, open mouth kisses to your jaw and trailing them down your neck. 

You were not an idiot. You had dated multiple conniving liars, and your instincts were never wrong. The situation reeked of something fishy, and you were going to figure it out. You sincerely hoped nothing crazy was going on; you actually really liked Paige.

And because you were a girl with a pulse, you gave into Paige’s mouth, as she drew you in with her unrelenting charm.

God, you were so fucked. 

She pulls you into her bedroom to have her way with you, making you forget all about her weird behavior and her abandoned cell phone.

For now at least. 

~

The next day rolls around and you are determined to figure out the source of Paige’s odd behavior. You walk into her apartment quietly, giggling to yourself as you imagine spy music in the background as you creep towards her closed door. There was no noise coming from her room, and you were not actually sure if she was in there or not. 

Taking a deep breath, you carefully open the door and step into the room. Paige is laying on her stomach with her large headphones covering her ears. Her back is to you, and she is watching something intently on her iPad. 

She was always fucking around on that thing. 

‘She’s probably playing Roblox again,’ you snicker inside your head before taking another step forward to see what she was looking at.

Your heart stumbles in your chest as you glance over her shoulder to see two girls scissoring in broad daylight on the screen, and you let out a gasp, giving you away.

Paige whips her head around to see you staring at her with your mouth open in shock. Her cheeks bloom with embarrassment, and she rubs a hand across her neck before sending you a sheepish smile. “I can explain?”

You take a seat on her bed, wringing your sweaty hands together. “You know I don’t care that you’re watching porn right? But, like, why?” You ask, still in shock.

Paige sighs, looking back at the paused screen of her iPad that was haphazardly thrown onto her pillows. “I wanted to try scissoring with you. And I’ve never done that shit. And I was scared to bring it up,” she mumbles.

You giggle, and she whines in protest, pushing at your arm. “Not funny,” she pouts.

“Actually, it’s pretty fucking hilarious!” You cackle, poking at her side. “But why didn’t you just tell me? Who was the one who taught you how to use a vibrator?” You say pointedly. “And that was before we were even dating.”

“I know,” she groans, putting her head in her hands. “I just get kinda shy ‘bout this shit.”

“You poor baby,” you coo. “Now, c’mon, let's go scissor.”

Paige looks at you with a dumbfounded expression. “What?” 

“Well don’t you want to try it? I’m horny, and I can see you’re soaked through those flimsy sweatpants,” you add, pointing to her crotch. 

Her face turns bright red again. 

Her sheepishness was divine, and you were eager to show her the many pleasures of scissoring. You were going to leave her absolutely wrecked.

~

Paige’s breathless whines cut through the air as you press hot, wet kisses to her inner thighs. She writhes against her bedsheets, and you continue to tease her.

“You look so pretty all spread out f’me,” you simper, overtly pleased with yourself. No one could get a rise out of her like you. 

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” she grunts, throwing an arm across her face. Her hips jump up as you swipe your thumb across her swollen clit in retaliation. “Please, baby,” she cries, thrusting her bottom lip out in a ridiculous pout.

Your own pussy was dripping in excitement, and you doubted you’d be able to hold off much longer, so you decided to show her a little mercy.

“C’mere,” you instruct, pulling her closer and slotting her open legs through yours. Loud gasps ring out as your slick pussies connect as you both adjust to the feeling. 

Paige leans forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss before she rolls her hips experimentally, leaving you to moan into her mouth. It was raw, the sheer magnetism exuding out from between the two of you. 

Grabbing onto her long, toned leg, you use it to slide her soaked folds against yours, ensuring your clits aligned perfectly. It was erotic, and as you stared at Paige’s heaving body, you felt another gush trickle down onto the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Her mouth is open, head tilted back, as she inhales sharply. Her grip moves to your ass, and she sends a stinging slap to your sensitive skin. 

“Fuck,” you moan out, rolling your hips again and watching as your movement sends shockwaves through Paige’s body. Her thighs tremble and her tits bounce as you pull her in close to you, kissing her deeply as you grind against her. 

“S’good,” she mumbles against your mouth before a needy whine leaves her lips with another roll of your hips. “Can’t last much longer,” she pants out.

You stroke her cheek, making her look into your eyes as you speed up your movements. The noises were downright filthy as your pussy slid wetly against hers, the friction quickly bringing you to a glorious edge. 

Paige cums with your name on her lips, her body shuddering as the pleasure rips through her. Expletives and moans fill the air as you and Paige come down from your highs together.

As your breathing evens out, you reach to move her blonde hair out of her face, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“That was way better than I expected,” she grins, and you laugh.

“Now what are you going to do the next time you wanna try out something new?” You ask, a teasing tone ringing through your voice.

Paige sighs, looking bashful. “I’m gonna tell you instead of watching it on Pornhub.”

You pull her in for another kiss. “That’s my good girl.”

~

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half , @patscorner @dietcokesmom @ch12334 @double22-k @inthedeathofherreptuation , @authentic-girl03 , @blueredg52 @tndaqlifwy

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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

A Curse [Chapter 12: Mount Olympus] [Series Finale]

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, illness/death/medical stuff, a totally relaxing and lovely destination wedding!

Word count: 5.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

“So what’s your plan?” Jace asks as you peer into the tiny circular mirror of your makeup compact and manically blend out your eyeshadow, three shimmering earthen shades by NARS: Gold Rush, Ashes to Ashes, Valhalla. The flight attendants were kind enough to let you stuff yourself into your dress at the back of the plane; there wasn’t enough room in the bathroom. “You’ll wait until the priest does the whole ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ thing and then object in front of everybody?”

That is a horrifying prospect. “I think I can catch Aegon right before the ceremony, like when he’s walking from the hotel to the beach.”

Jace checks the time on his phone, raises his eyebrows, shakes his head. Through the window, you can see that the plane is descending through cumulus clouds—cotton-ball fluffs kicked up by the trade winds that blow in from the east—and the ground is moving closer, an island of emerald green foliage and shallow turquoise seawater before the plunging abyssal drop-off of the continental shelf.

“Maybe they’ll be running late,” you say hopefully.

“If sunset is at 7 p.m. like Google said, they won’t have much wiggle room. If they’re delayed longer than five or ten minutes, they’ll be getting married in the dark.”

“We can make it,” you insist, determined to will it into reality.

“And then you’re going to...what? Tell your old, rich, terminally ill agent that he should marry you instead?”

“I don’t really know what I’m going to say.” You’ve never been much of a planner. “But I’ll convince him to stop the wedding somehow. I’ll tell him how I feel.” I’ll be honest. I’ll be real.

Jace is skeptical. “Okay. Great.”

He scrolls through his phone; now the plane is low enough for him to get cell reception. You open Spotify and put in your earbuds, stare out the small oval-shaped window, and blast Lose Yourself as loud as it goes.

Turbulence, touchdown, taxiing to the gate; when the pilot indicates it is safe to move around the cabin, you and Jace are the first passengers in the aisle. The door opens and you sprint through Providenciales International Airport, blessedly small, only one terminal and nine gates. There are a line of taxis waiting outside for tourists. You and Jace scramble into one of them, tossing your small carry-on suitcases into the trunk. You give the taxi driver the name of the resort and several crumpled twenty-dollar bills yanked from your purse so he’ll rush. As swaying palm trees and an increasingly blood orange skyline rush by beyond the car window, you check the time on your phone: 6:19 p.m.

The resort is only ten minutes from the airport, but there is a long line of taxis waiting to drop off their passengers. You and Jace get out and start running, toting your rolling suitcases. You careen into the lobby, ask an alarmed employee where the wedding venue is, and are pointed to a set of automatic sliding glass doors. They open onto the beach, a vast stretch of sand and a grove of palm trees, and then in the distance—right at the brink of the glimmering dusk waves, as if they are about to topple in—you spy a hazy sea of people in white chairs and an archway shrouded in prismatic blooms of foreign, tropical flowers.

“That’s gotta be it, right?” Jace pants, but you’re already flying over the sand dunes, pitching and wobbling in your wedges, your suitcase bumping along as you drag it behind you. The sun is vanishing and the stars are coming out, tiny freckles of silver light in a rage-and-lilac sky. Gulls swoop and circle overhead. The glittering waves creep closer towards high tide. You over-rotate your left ankle as you stumble down an embankment of sand, and an old wound wakes back up like a dragon, like a vampire, a monster that opens flesh with fangs.

You and Jace stagger up to the edge of the ceremony, and elderly, scowling guests twist around in their wooden chairs to condemn your lateness. Under the archway at the front of the congregation, an officiant is standing with the happy couple in white. Becca is wearing one of those very expensive gowns that is supposed to look effortless: lace, strapless, clinging to all the right places. Aegon is in a linen suit that fits him perfectly, but the wind has torn his hair from its gel. He is holding a microphone and smiling as he tells the story of how he and Becca met. He hasn’t seen you yet.

“What are you doing?!” Jace whispers to you. “Say you object!”

“I think that part already happened,” you say. Then you sink numbly into an empty chair and after a moment, Jace sits down beside you. The nearby guests frown disapprovingly as you both gasp for air after your futile race across shifting sand, your hair disheveled and your clothes damp with sweat, your electric yellow gown that Baela once criticized as being a prom dress, Jace’s Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants. You awkwardly shove your suitcases under your chairs. And you think, tears stinging in your eyes, ocean wind burning in your lungs: I’m too late.

“It was a charity gala in Encino. She had a date and I had a date,” Aegon is saying, and an endeared chuckle rolls through the audience. “But Becca brought one of those miniature lint rollers in her purse, and she ended up following me around all night trying to fix my suit. That really left an impression on me, how attentive she was, how naturally giving and kind. And by the time the party was over, we had somehow both abandoned our respective dates.” More laughter, more charmed, yearning sighs. I shouldn’t be here, you think; it’s not something meant for you to see. These are the phantoms of someone else’s past, they’re the bricks of a future that has nothing to do with you.

Now Becca has the microphone, and she’s talking about how she saw Aegon’s movies when she was young but she never believed she’d meet him in real life, but then she did and it was like her wildest dreams had come true because he was so handsome and funny and smart, and he filled her home with a warmth she’d never known before.

I want to leave, you think; but then Aegon spots you from where he stands under the blooming archway and he beams, the dying light radiant on his face, and gives you a little wave. Like a reflex, you smile back. What else can you do? Then Aegon’s eyes flick to Jace and he frowns and turns his attention back to Becca.

Becca is telling the guests that she and Aegon are a team, and that they are facing his diagnosis together. In reply, there are solemn nods and murmurs of admiration. Far from you, up in the front row, you spot Aemond—black suit, tidy hair despite the breeze—leaning over to whisper something to his mother, who is dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex from a travel-sized pack. Becca is saying she is honored that Aegon chose her to be his partner at this crucial juncture in his life. She is saying that she won’t let him down.

The rings are brought forth by a lumbering, wheezing Pekingese with a small velvet pouch tied to its collar. The officiant pronounces them husband and wife. The couple kiss, Becca smiling as her long dark tresses blow in the wind, still somehow miraculously untangled and frizzless, Aegon perhaps a little sheepish, breaking the kiss first. The crowd applauds and the bride and groom are escorted away by a fleet of photographers to take pictures. The rest of you are led off to the cocktail hour, a large white tent full of tiny tables and surrounded by torches that provide beacons of flickering light as the last rays of sun vanish from the sky.

Jace orders a beer from the open bar; you get a lemon drop you barely touch. Waiters weave among the guests with trays of Caribbean hors d’oeuvres: Johnnycakes, conch fritters, jerk chicken on skewers, plantain chips with mango salsa, coconut shrimp, curried mussels. A troop of hired musicians are playing maracas, box guitars, and conga drums.

“What are we going to do now?” Jace asks.

From a corner of the tent, you’re staring vacuously at where Helaena is dancing with her children, laughing, twirling, jumping up and down. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, are you still going to try to talk to him, or...?”

“I don’t know, Jace.”

“We need a hotel for the night, so we should make reservations somewhere. And those plane tickets were roundtrip, right?”

“Yeah. We’re flying back tomorrow.”

“Because your movie starts filming on Monday.”

“It does.”

Jace whistles. “Busy weekend.”

You’re not confident you can reply without crying, so you don’t say anything.

“Well,” Jace says. “If you need anything, I’ll be over by the build-your-own-taco bar.”

You check your phone: nothing but five missed calls from your parents. They must have seen you charge the plane tickets to your credit card. You swallow noisily and then ask Jace in a miserable squeak: “Can you please make a reservation somewhere? I’ll pay you back.”

“Okay.”

“Not this resort.”

He smirks beneath somber eyes, like he pities you. “Got it.” He saunters off, then immediately returns. “Wait. The only credit card I have on me is Baela’s, and they make you show ID when you check in.”

You sigh. “Forget it. I’ll handle the reservation.” If my parents haven’t frozen my card by then.

“Cool,” Jace says, and is gone again.

You lurk in the corner Googling hotels and sipping your lemon drop, waiting for Aegon to reappear. There is a group of beautiful, influencer-type women nearby, drinking champagne and taking turns snapping photos of each other in front of an elaborate flower display and issuing stern directions: Move to the right, fix your hair, your hand looks weird when you put it there. In the center of the flowers, there is a glowing pink neon sign that reads happiness.

“Oh my God, it’s so sad,” one of the women says as she scrolls through the pictures her friends just took of her, searching for the perfect image to post.

“So sad,” the others mutter in agreement.

“Like, Becca is absolutely incredible for what she’s doing.”

“Can you imagine?” a woman in a short orange dress muses. “Sneaking around to surprise your fiancé with his-and-hers ancestry test results, freaking swabbing his cheek for DNA while he’s asleep, thinking you’re going to bond over both being part Italian or something, only to find out he’s dying?”

One of the friends looks at her a tad smugly. “Becca did tell you she was Native American.”

Orange dress lady rolls her eyes. “She’s like two percent!”

Becca breezes into the tent and is immediately descended upon by fawning wedding guests, who gush over her dress and her vows as they gulp champagne and nibble on hors d’oeuvres. From across the room her eyes meet yours—only for a moment—and she grins, incandescently triumphant. She won, in even more ways than she knows.

Where’s Aegon?

You peer around the tent; he doesn’t appear to have returned with Becca. You find all the members of Aegon’s immediate family, and you find his former clients Steve, Fatima, and Angus...but you can’t find him.

Is he still outside? Is he alone?

You watch Becca mingling with guests until she turns so that her back is to you, and then you slip out of the tent and into the night, torchlight and moonlight and the endless opaque sheen of the Atlantic Ocean. You don’t see anyone.

Where would photographers take romantic sunset wedding pictures?

Right by the water, of course. You trot down towards the waves, your wedges slipping on the sand, your left ankle throbbing. You pause to take off your wedges and carry them instead.

“Aegon?” you call, but all you hear in reply is the dull primordial roar of the ocean.

You keep walking, gingerly stepping around fractured seashells that could cut your bare feet, and then at last you find him at the water’s edge: pensive, sitting with his legs crossed and his white linen suit filthy with wet sand, chomping on a piece of Juicy Fruit.

Aegon looks over and smiles weakly. “Hey, sunshine.”

“Hi.” You plop down next to him, your yellow dress billowing out around you: V-neck, voluminous tulle ruffles, a high-low hemline that stops in the front just above your knees. The air is hot, humid, threaded with distant sounds of laughter and music; the stars are getting brighter. “You know where you’re supposed to be right now, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I told Becca I needed a minute to decompress. It’s good to see you.” And then Aegon adds, a joke with something weary and aching underneath: “Although I don’t think I invited your boyfriend.”

“So guess what.”

“What?”

“Jace is actually my roommate Baela’s boyfriend.”

Aegon is taken aback; then he absorbs it and chuckles, delighted. “And that’s why he went back to your apartment after the gala. Not because you’re fucking.”

“Exactly.”

“Why’d he fly all the way out here with you?”

You shrug. “He’s bored. He’s unemployed. He misses Baela and needs a distraction. He likes free food. And we might sort of be friends now.”

Aegon nods and gazes out over the ocean; when calm waves break and bubble up over the sand, the froth covers your feet. Under the moonlight, you can see the deepening creases around his eyes, the weight that he’s lost in his cheeks, all the small ways in which he is disappearing. You wish you could touch him; you don’t know if he’d want that. “I thought I would feel relieved afterwards, like I knew I made the right decision,” Aegon says after a while. “But I just feel the same way I did when I woke up this morning.”

“How did you feel this morning?”

“Like I missed you.”

You peer down at the sand, where you have been drawing tiny stars without realizing it. “Aegon, I didn’t come to Turks and Caicos to watch you get married,” you confess. “I came here to change your mind. But I was too late.”

He looks at you, startled. “What were you going to say?”

I hadn’t decided yet, you think, but of course now you’re out of time. You take a deep breath and begin. “I was going to tell you that I have read and watched more about Huntington’s disease in the past three weeks than I’ve ever learned about anything, and there was never a second when I felt that I didn’t want to be with you through all of it.”

Aegon shakes his head and studies the waves, his blonde hair blowing in the wind, his turbulent blue eyes glistening.

“And I wouldn’t give up acting,” you continue. “I would film my movie, and I would do the promo stuff, and then I would...you know...I might slow down for a little while so I could spend time with you while you’re still...while you’re still really here. Not because you need me to, or because I feel obligated, but because I want to. You’re the only person who believed in me. I believe in you too. I believe you still have a lot of good days left. ”

Now Aegon is watching you again, his face unreadable. The low omnipresent rumble of the ocean fills every gap, every microcosm silence.

“And we could do IVF and have a healthy baby, and you’d be able to meet them, and your family and I would have them forever, and I know they’d be wonderful because you are. They’d be kind and warm and real, and the world would be better off with pieces of you in it. And when you’re dead...” Your voice breaks and you have to stop, close your eyes, collect yourself. Then you press on determinedly. “When you’re dead, Aegon, I’ll be in my thirties, I’ll be younger than you are now, and I’ll have my whole life ahead of me. So don’t think that you’re taking anything away from me because you’re not. You’re giving me the time you have left. And I could never think you’re a curse.”

Then suddenly you can read him: he has seen this vision too, he has haunted this ghost-life from corners and doorways, he has longed savagely to inhabit it. “You have to put me away somewhere when I get bad,” he says quietly. “I’ll pick a place and you’ll put me there, and you won’t visit, and you’ll protect people from me. Yourself, my family, our child.”

“I will,” you promise, not sure that you are telling the truth.

“Okay,” Aegon says.

“Okay...? What does that mean?”

“It worked. You’ve convinced me.” He smiles and takes your hand, the one that has been drawing stars in the sand. “Let’s go home.”

“But you just got married.”

“That’s not always a permanent condition, sunshine,” Aegon says, and when he kisses you the warmth of it is all-consuming, and you are home in a way you never were with anyone else, not in Minnesota, not even in Los Angeles, and this is a place that once you’ve found you can never leave. Your fingers are grasping the white linen of his suit jacket, drawing him closer, needing every minute he has left. He tastes like Juicy Fruit, sweet and bright like sunlight. His hands are gliding beneath the weightless tulle ruffles of your yellow gown.

You protest with your words, though not with your body: “Aegon, it’s your wedding night.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, your face, your throat. “It’s insane, it’s wrong, it’s impulsive, but I love you. And I don’t want to waste any time. And my dick is working right now, so...”

You laugh as you fall back onto the sand, waves nipping at your bare feet, Aegon whisking away your silk panties, positioning himself between your thighs, discovering that you are already wet; you know exactly what he’s going to do for you, you have no doubts where he will take you.

“I appreciate how easy this dress is to get under,” Aegon is purring through your windswept hair as you moan, the sand cool and soft beneath you.

“You remember the limo?”

“I remember the limo very fondly.”

You are tugging off his suit jacket and wrestling with the buttons of the shirt underneath. He is yanking the straps of your dress off your shoulders, needing to see you, to touch you, to taste the salt of the sea spray on your skin, to know for the first time that who he loves is who he’ll get to keep.

“Oh fuck,” Aegon sighs, dropping his head in defeat. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I can’t get pregnant tonight,” you tell him in a breathless rush. “I’m getting my period in like two days, I already have cramps, my uterus is useless. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And he’s here again, grinning, euphoric, lost in you. He sees the stars you’ve drawn in the sand, then glances up at the night sky full of constellations. “Stars above, stars below,” he whispers, and kisses you deeply, his hips rocking as he eases into you—slow, kind, perfect—and neither of you are going to last long tonight, and that’s okay. You’ll have other nights. You have more time.

There is a horrified shriek and then an emptiness as Aegon pulls away from you, and you turn to see her standing on the sand: Becca with her white lace wedding gown, rings sparkling on her left hand, a long dark shock of hair that streams out behind her as gales of wind blow in off the Atlantic Ocean.

“Becca,” Aegon begins.

“You bitch!” she hisses, and then dives for you, hands clawing, teeth bared. You scream and hide behind Aegon, cowering on the sand as he stands and fixes his pants, holding up his palms to stop his wife. When she tries to skirt around him to get to you, he blocks her. “You can’t do this,” Becca tells him, and now she’s sobbing. “There are things I can look the other way for, but this, Aegon, this?! It’s our wedding. It’s our day. Send her home. Make her leave now.”

“Becca, this isn’t going to work.”

“What are you talking about?! We’re married!”

“And I thought that was the right thing to do.” Aegon’s voice is calm, patient, apologetic...but unmovable. “I really, really did. But I was wrong.”

Becca is thunderstruck. “But I’m the one you chose,” she says. “I’m the person you want to spend your last years with. You could have had anyone, but you chose me. Not her, not your family, but me. Because I’m the one you trust, I’m the one who has earned this. Because you love me more than any of the others.”

In reply, there is only Aegon’s silence, only these sounds: the ocean, the wind, the faint far-off festivities of the cocktail hour.

When Becca speaks, her voice is frail and childlike. “But I did everything right.”

“I didn’t,” Aegon says. “But I’m going to try to from here on out.”

She reels backwards, several unsteady steps in her flat sandals that glint with crystals. She touches her hands to her face, like she’s hoping it will wake her up. “This can’t be happening.”

“Becca, I am so sorry. About everything.” And in his words is the weight of every wrong he’s ever inflicted on her, the absence of everything she was denied. There is no changing the history; there are only new pages to be written. “You deserve someone who can give you what you want.”

“Fuck you,” she pitches at him, snarling through tears. “I can’t believe you. I hate you.” And then she whirls and flees: kicking up sand, weeping as she wonders what she’ll tell her friends.

Aegon exhales, collapses onto the sand, rubs his face and drags his fingers through his hair. You reach for him, a palm to his chest, bare from where you opened his shirt. Beneath your hand, his heartbeat is thunderous. “Aegon...are you alright?”

“I’m going to have a lot of uncomfortable conversations in about ten minutes,” he says. Then he turns to you, cradles the curve of your jaw, ghosts his thumbprint across your lips. “But I’d like to stay here with you until then.”

And there as the frothing star-speckled waves soak your gown and Aegon’s suit, he finishes what he started; and you finish too.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flashbulbs strobe and reporters clamor. On the red carpet, you pose for photographs with Santiago, Chloe, Dusty, and a dozen other people from the cast and crew. You wear a Versace ballgown, massive and gold and glittering. You chose your eyeshadow to match: Too Faced and Natasha Denona, Golden Light and Ray.

The film wasn’t out of post-production in time for Sundance, Berlin, or South by Southwest, but it was ready for Cannes in May, and now Tribeca at the start of June. Next will be Venice, and then Toronto, and then the long march of awards season in the fall and winter. The nationwide theatrical release will be in July. There is already Oscar buzz; film critics are writing that you are all but guaranteed a Best Actress nomination.

Reporters are shouting your name, because they know who you are now. You have a very lucrative advertising campaign with Cold Stone Creamery. You did a segment on Good Morning America where you taught the hosts how to make ice cream, giggling as they spilled sprinkles and Oreo pieces all over the floor. Your Grey’s Anatomy episode was one of the highest-rated of the season. Sometimes when you’re out and about in Los Angeles, people will ask you for autographs. When you see pictures or video clips of yourself, you are effervescent, ever-smiling; you don’t even remember doing it. It’s just what happens.

“Can you tell us what this experience has been like for you?” a cheerful correspondent from E! News asks as she holds a microphone to your glossy red lips. “Going from being completely unknown to a breakout star in just the past few months?”

“I’m so grateful for everyone who has helped me get to this point,” you say. “On this film, I got to work with people who were so passionate and genuine and kind, and it really affirmed my faith in what I’m doing with my life, and that I belong in this industry, and that so does anybody else who has a dream even if no one believes in you yet. You just have to find people who believe in you. I have a wonderful agent, her name is Kristen, and my manager Tim, and my stylist Aurora, who indulges all my super uncool ideas...I am so thankful to have a team who are working so hard every day to make this possible.”

“And I’ve heard you have a certain nickname on set, is that right?”

You chuckle and nod. “It is, yeah.”

“People you work with call you Sunshine, because of your enthusiasm and positivity!”

“My husband started that,” you say, beaming. “When we met, almost exactly a year ago. And then I guess he did it so much that other people started picking up on it.”

“Well, it certainly suits you. And your husband...he’s here tonight, isn’t he? I think I spotted him around here somewhere...um...oh yes, there he is! Hi, Aegon!”

He waves from the sidelines, butter yellow suit, sand-colored hair slicked back from his face. He walks with a cane now, because he’s getting unsteady on his feet; but you found one that makes him smile. In the spherical knob of the handle, transparently clear glass, is suspended a Mario figurine leaping up to catch a star. Brandon, who is standing with Aegon, waves too. He has been promoted from receptionist to executive personal assistant, which means that he and his boyfriend were able to purchase a house in Venice Beach. When you’re working, Brandon makes sure that Aegon doesn’t lose track of time, or forget how to get somewhere, or lose his phone or his keys or anything like that. At home in Los Angeles, Aegon is still holding on to his office in Elysian Park. When he’s feeling good—clear, bright, in control—he makes calls to help out aspiring actors he bumps into. Other times, he just plays his Nintendo 64, exercising his motor skills to keep them for as long as he can. And then when you’re free you pick him up for ice cream, or In-N-Out Burger, or lunch beside a tank of antagonistic oscars in Chinatown.

“And how do you feel about how well this film is being received?” the E! News correspondent asks. “Its rollout is just getting started, and it’s already generating so much publicity! That must be very exciting for you. I’m sure you’re being offered roles all the time now.”

“It’s such an honor, every review, every award, it shows the cast and crew who poured so much into this movie that their efforts and talents are being recognized. But you know...” You hesitate. “I think...for me personally...it’s really nice to feel like I’ve proven myself with this project, and that if I want to take some time off to spend with my husband, I have that flexibility. I can dip in and out of acting and take the roles I feel I have the bandwidth for, and know that something like this—an extremely inspiring and fulfilling but also demanding role that requires travel and long hours—is always there waiting when the time is right.”

“Of course, of course,” the woman from E! News says, her tone sympathetic. Everyone is aware of Aegon’s diagnosis, though they are usually tactful enough not to mention it outright. They also politely ignore the messy timeline: a destination wedding, a clearly unamicable split, another marriage the day after the divorce was finalized. In the aftermath of what happened on Turks and Caicos, Becca cut her hair and posted a number of angry poems on her blog with titles like The World’s Shortest Marriage and Deleted Pinterest Boards, but she recently started dating a Formula 1 driver five years her junior and she seems to be doing a lot better.

It’s time to go inside. You profusely thank the E! News correspondent and say goodbye, then Aegon joins you so you can walk into the screening together, his palm on the small of your back, you leaning into him to whisper: “Did I do okay?”

And Aegon slides his black aviator sunglasses out of his suit jacket and puts them on—You are so bright, sunshine—and smiles proudly as he kisses your cheek. You wear matching gold bands on your ring fingers, simple and subtle and etched with suns and stars.

Afterwards, you fly home to your house on Apollo Drive in a neighborhood called Mount Olympus, just west of Hollywood and east of Beverly Hills, a quick hop southeast on the 101 to Elysian Park, less than an hour from the Targaryen mansion in Malibu when traffic isn’t too bad. The house, built in the 1960s, was a relatively modest two million dollars, three bedrooms and all one story so Aegon can get around when he needs a wheelchair. He has a residential long-term care facility picked out for when he is in the late stages, and you and Aemond lie adamantly and say you’ll send him there, because that’s what Aegon wants to hear.

On the mantle above the fireplace, there is a vase full of dried sunflowers and a plethora of framed photographs from your courthouse wedding: Brandon and his boyfriend, Jace and Baela (still a bit flabbergasted that you made it after all), your new best friend Chloe, Aegon’s mother and siblings smiling, your parents shellshocked but nonetheless hell-bent on making a good impression, Tripp toasting champagne with Daeron, Clara glowering because you somehow managed to beat her to the altar. If you have the first grandchild, she might actually kill you.

Now you and Aegon are in the waiting room, early for your appointment, and a soft dreamy Red Hot Chili Peppers song called If is plucking from the Spotify playlist the receptionist has pulled up on her computer screen. You reach into your purse to get the snacks you packed, because you’re always trying to put weight on Aegon the same way he once plied you with vanilla lattes and Cherry Cokes and boneless spare ribs and cheeseburgers...and still does sometimes, when he remembers. He takes a Honeycrisp apple and feels the weight of it, marvels at the red skin striped with green and gold, recognizes the absence of a recollection, something he describes to you as a black void he falls into, chasms that open up in floors and sidewalks.

“There’s a story with these,” Aegon says.

You smile. “Yeah, there is.”

“Remind me?”

“Later.”

He grins and winks. “Not suitable for public conversation. I get it.” And he bites into the crisp sweet flesh, juice shining on his lips, and then he offers you the apple: an indelible muscle memory, a moment that still lives in him somewhere. You take a bite over the same spot, your tongue and teeth grazing the outline of him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Targaryen?” a nurse says, summoning you, and you follow her to the doctor’s office.

When you only have a few years with someone, every day is a gold rush. And so weeks ago when Aegon did his sperm collection, you went with him into the room, straddled his lap and stroked him until he finished into the plastic cup, his fingers between your legs, your lips to his ear; because when he can get hard, neither of you want to waste it. Your contribution—follicle stimulation and egg retrieval—was less pleasant. The hormones made you feel like a stranger in your own skin, sluggish and gloomy, and you were sore after the procedure. But Aegon was wonderful, ordering takeout and snuggling with you on the couch as you watched the Twilight movies together and giggled about how ridiculous they are.

He had murmured like an apology: “It’s my fault we can’t do this the way normal people do.”

“Yeah. I wish you could just come in me four times a day.”

And he had burst out laughing, because he loves the way you put things: too much honesty, effortlessly real.

Today, the doctor has results: four viable embryos, three of which tested positive for the HTT gene mutation. But one is healthy; one has broken the curse.

“What do you think?” Aegon asks you; but the hope is so bright on his face, a life he once believed was forbidden.

“I think we should do it,” you answer.

The doctor congratulates you both and slides the necessary paperwork across the desk. Aegon’s hand begins to shake as he signs his name. You reach out to steady him; he looks at you and smiles.

[eternalsunrise]

call my bluff.

deadpool (wade wilson) x gn! reader

word count: 2.1k

summary! deadpool and you have an unorthodox dynamic. every time the masked man ends up in your neighborhood, he can’t seem to stay away. you’ve never seen his face or even heard his name, but the two of you are in a game of flirtation with no end in sight. as the tension is raised, both of you wonder, is there something more here?

tags! reader is a regular citizen, talk of reader wearing a skirt but i don’t think i used any pronouns? HEAVILY suggestive but no smut, alcohol mentions, i wrote this with comic deadpool in mind but could easily be ryan’s as well!!

notes! the collective d&w brainrot has caused me to open tumblr and actually complete a fic. hope u love it <3 abs

“taxi!”

the crisp night air nipped at your legs as you stepped off of the sidewalk and onto the edge of the street for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. you waved your hands semi erratically, jumping up and down as to try and make yourself take up more space so that the bright yellow vehicle would take notice. instead you watched as it zipped right past you, short term deja vu happening once again.

you threw your arms down in defeat and stared up at the night sky, “fuck!” you sent your frustrations up to the half of a full moon you could see, the other portion blocked by skyscrapers. how is it that this city was known to be crawling with cabs and you couldn’t even flag one of them down? were you on some kind of taxi blacklist?

whatever the reason, you decided that between your horrible luck with public transport and your dead cell phone, you might as well start the trek home.

your body buzzed with the alcohol from the evening; your night out with friends had veered into the early morning hours, and you promised them you’d be able to find your way home. blacklist or not, the city was walkable and you were tired of waiting.

so you crossed your arms over your chest, a half baked attempted at hiding from the chill of the city. you started walking in the direction of your apartment, craving the touch of warm sheets and pillowcases.

after a few minutes of sharing the air with faint car horns and the buzzing of people’s air conditioning units, you heard something else. someone else.

you weren’t naive, the city never sleeps, and there were bound to be people out just like you. however the path you chose was definitely less trafficked, and general paranoia was starting to set in. after all, you’ve been the only person for the past three blocks, only sharing the sidewalk with stray cats.

the thought that someone was behind you forced you to sober up quickly. ice cold blood replacing the warm alcohol that was coursing through your veins.

the footsteps are louder now, matching your heartbeat patting against your rib cage. you wonder why they haven’t walked past you yet. were you being followed? taking a deep breath, you reach into your bag slowly. you retrieve your small weapon of defense, ready to face off a potential threat. whoever it was, they were behind you now. you figured your best bet was fight AND flight. attack and spirit off.

you hear a wolf whistle, deep and slow, right in your ear. it’s now or never.

you whip around and shove your arm toward the nightcrawler (pervert?). you open your mouth to let out a scream and clench your eyes shut. you’re surprised when your voice is muffled by…leather?

“oh cupcake, this is adorable! where’d you get this, amazon?”

you open your eyes and are stunned to lock them with a sea of red and black. your eyes trail upwards, spying artificial whites and a mask you’ve grown familiar with. the original terror you felt starts draining from your body, and is replaced by shock and a strange sense of relief.

deadpool has one of his gloved hands locked around your wrist, long index finger just barely lifting yours off of the trigger of the object in question. a travel sized, hot pink, container of mace.

you open your mouth again to speak but find his other hand muffling your airways, his large palm covering your mouth and tip of your nose. you frantically grasp at his arm with your free hand, yanking it away from your face.

“you know sweet thing, if you wanna walk around this late by yourself, you’ll need something a little more industrial. i actually know a guy if you-“

you take in a giant gulp of air and clutch your chest, trying to slow down your heart rate, “what. the FUCK is wrong with you?” you cut off deadpool’s rambling, staring at his blank eyes.

the merc tilts his head to the side as if he was a confused golden retriever, “really? you wanna trauma dump right now? well…” he clears his throat, voice dropping an octave to portray faux sincerity, “i guess it all started in third grade…”

you groaned and rubbed your face with your free hand, the other still in control by your assaulter, “you could’ve announced yourself, you gave me a heart attack! what are you doing following me anyway?”

deadpool finally releases your hand, his own finding home on his hips, resting right above his two holsters. “well i saw you wandering around like carrie bradshaw. and i may not be your mister, but i was hoping to give you something Big.” he shrugs as if that response was as normal as discussing the weather. you shove your measly can of mace back into your bag.

shaking your head, you turn on your heels, starting to walk away. you plan to continue your trek home, confident that the anti hero would be quick to follow behind. “how hard would it be to just say you want to walk me home?”

you’ve been playing this game of back and forth flirtation for a while now, and you knew that deep…deep…deep down he was masking true concern for you.

deciding not to answer, deadpool took just a few of his large strides to end up by your side. “what are you doing walking alone looking like that anyway? admit it! you were hoping i’d show up.”

you look at him with glassy eyes. now that your guard was fully down, you started to feel the effects of those three tequila shots you took as a send off to your friends. maybe those weren’t such a good idea. the way you’re looking up at him make’s deadpool’s wade’s stomach turn, and he has to clench his fists to control himself.

suddenly he’s forgotten why he was on this side of town in the first place.

you let out a laugh full of teeth, “oh you wish! i haven’t seen you in a few days though, had to go out to fill my needs elsewhere.”

what you two have has never went beyond casual flirtation, but the idea of you being under someone else sparks a match of jealously. but wade knows better. and he knows that slight stumble as you walk, your hands pulling the skirt of your outfit down.

deadpool hisses as if you’ve hit a nerve, “ouch baby, i didn’t think i’d be third wheeling with you and jose cuervo tonight.” he spots a car driving toward the two of you and acts quickly; he places a gloved hand on your waist and moves you away from the sidewalk. he doesn’t miss a beat, you don’t even realize you’ve switched places.

you’re looking back up at him again as you walk, this time reaching up and tapping the handle of one of his sheathed katanas, “what about you killer? you been thinkin’ about me?” you’re teasing him, but a small part of you hopes he’ll give you a genuine answer that aligns with what you want to hear.

his mask creases as he raises his eyebrows and you can’t see but wade is giving you a smirk that sits on the side of his mouth, “oh you know it sweet thing. every time i’ve slid one of these bad boys in and out of a bad guy, it reminds me of what we could have.”

deadpool lets out a dramatic sigh, reminiscing on something that hasn’t even happened, “but their screams usually ruin my hard on, i think your’s would have the opposite effect.”

so much for your genuine answer.

you blame the red on your cheeks and buzzing feeling on the alcohol, pushing the thought of the real cause into a box and storing it in the back of your mind. how embarrassing to feel this way about a masked weirdo that sometimes strolls through your neighborhood. you didn’t even know his real name. hell, you’ve never seen his face!

after a little more walking and a lot more sexual tension, the two of you arrive in front of your apartment building. you turn to face your escort for the evening, flashing him a grin full of drunken glee, “well this is my stop, thank you for the company mr. pool. i’ll have to repay you somehow.” your tone teasing but borderline suggestive.

deadpool nods and taps his chin a few times, “you’re right cupcake….since you’re offering…” he trails off, his voice growing deeper as he bent down to be eye level with you. your throat hitched, a gasp getting stuck there, not expecting him to call your bluff. “i take payments in the form of cash, debit, or check!”

he taps the tip of your nose and shoots back, standing up straight.

oh right! no way this guy would ever actually take you up on your banter! and that was a good thing…right? you decided to end the night now, preventing your drunken state from dragging a masked man into your home.

you rolled your eyes and braced your hand on his broad shoulder, stepping on the tip of your toes and placing a kiss on the side of his mask, the textured material tickling your lips. “goodnight handsome.”

you leaned away from him but trailed your hand down to rest on his chest. hey! the tequila was making you brave.

deadpool, no wade—deadpool—no! wade felt like he was about to fall backwards like a cartoon cat after getting hit with a sledgehammer. it had been a long time since his suit had experienced anything that gentle, he felt this was about to go down a dangerous path.

wade stared down at you through white lenses, his gaze bouncing between your hand and your lips. back and forth like a game of table tennis.

he watched as you bit your lip and held his gaze. your cheeks flushed, eyes glossy, the street lights illuminated your face in a way he’s never seen before. he wonders if potential onlookers could see small hearts surrounding his head.

wade feels a thought go through him, as if it swept in on the early morning breeze. a thought that he felt insane (shocker) for having even for a moment.

standing there with you, he wants to be himself. he has the urge to be vulnerable; rip his mask off and be wade wilson with you. for you. in this moment he wants to be more than the merc that flirts with you. wade wants to be with you. he wants…..fuck he wants to take you inside and make sure your body leaves an imprint in the mattress that’ll be there for weeks. stop looking at him like that, his pants are getting tight.

and there’s deadpool. he imagines tiny versions of himself stabbing katanas into the hearts around his head. they let out sad whines as they deflate and fall onto the sidewalk below him. he needs to get a grip.

“sweet dreams angel face. oh! if you need me throughout the night, just scream out of your bedroom window! screams of damsels in distress are like my mating call.”

you retract your hand with a giggle that makes that stupid thought come back into deadpool’s head.

you hesitate. wanting to say something but…deciding best not to. you turn around and walk up the stairs to your door, ignoring the fire in your stomach that’s been growing after each flirtatious jab.

you hear him start to speak as soon as you put your key into the lock, and you turn around almost too eagerly. you want him to say what you’ve been wanting, craving to hear. you want him to enable that dark part of you; the part of you that wants more of him. the part of you that knows he’s wrong. that he’s got to be walking danger.

deadpool points at himself, “but babe, if you see a way less sexy guy in a suit responding to your call. one that has ugly little spider webs all over him? slam the window shut. you want nothing to do with that guy, trust me.”

your shoulders drop, an exhale released. you give him one last shake of your head, and a barely there smile, before you’re inside your home. the bubble that surrounded the two of you bursted.

the door shuts behind you but the masked man stays in place. he stares at the spot where you were just standing, thinking about all the other routes this night could’ve taken. he isn’t right for you. he should leave you alone. wade knows that. too bad deadpool’s never been a good listener.

[sunschay]

A House of Lies || Natasha Romanoff x Reader

After months of suspicion and distrust while waiting for her, you discover that Natasha is cheating on you with Steve.

Warnings: Angst, cheating, mentions of sex, Nat is a bit manipulative. No use of pronouns for the Reader.

Word count: 2,675 words.

Your nights used to be peaceful a few months ago. You'd have a simple snack, because you weren't always in the mood for a full dinner, take a warm bath to soothe your sore muscles from several heavy training sessions and go to bed with your girlfriend, Natasha. Natasha Romanoff was one of the world's greatest spy assassins. She was everything you could want. Although at first she was cold, distant and closed off – because the Red Room created her precisely to repress emotions and feelings – little by little she let herself be taken in by your clumsy charm, nerdy jokes and her completely attentive and caring manner that made her feel like she had a home. You were her home.

At least, that's what it felt like.

You didn't want to believe that things had cooled down between you and Natasha. But they had.

With the severe pneumonia you'd picked up from a trip to your naturally icy country, Kazakhstan, you couldn't go out as much on missions with the team and had to rest at home for a while. Of course, you grew up and adapted to the radical temperature of your country, but something changed and you just had the bad luck to fall ill.

It happened to the most focused people.

Natasha, on the other hand, made sure that you spent all your time taking your medication and eating well, as well as wearing so many clothes to keep yourself warm that it was suffocating. But she was still going on the "missions" required as soon as the population and the city needed the Avengers.

This didn't seem like a problem at first, because you trusted Natasha blindly.

She was the love of your life. She was even more than that. She was like... the air you breathed, the warmth that lit up your skin when she touched you or simply whispered the sweetest, most loving words into your ear, showing you how much she loved you.

But as I said, things between you and Natasha have cooled down.

As the days and weeks went by, she became more and more distant, although she still checked to see if your medication was finished or if there was dinner for you before she left.

The more difficult or dangerous the missions were supposed to be, the later Natasha got home. She usually arrived after you had gone to sleep, which seemed strange because the Natasha you knew hated spending as much time away from you as possible, she always tried to get back as soon as possible. Now she came through the door with silent steps, as if she were breaking into her own house. Romanoff also arrived with bruises.

You preferred not to listen to your intuition because you thought it was paranoid to think that her bruises and injuries looked more like hickeys and love bites on her body than bruises brought back from missions.

The first thing Natasha did when she got home from the missions was shower. Which wasn't unusual because she had always been a very hygienic person and smelled extremely sweet and pleasant.

But this also continued to disturb your suspicions in some way.

Another strange habit was that Natasha only used telephones in emergencies, especially because you were ill in your current state, but also simply because she wanted to feel as close to you as possible.

Now, Romanoff was glued to her cell phone. She would wake up looking for her phone, go to bed late with her eyes fixed on her phone, take a shower with her phone in the bathroom (literally) and continue to treat her phone as if it were part of her own body.

Sometimes she gave the excuse that she would eat something on the street, usually dismissing the fact that even if you were ill, you could use your efforts to cook for her as soon as she got home. You were beginning to think that Natasha thought you were miserable or that she despised you because her behavior was getting more and more suspicious every day, and distrusting the person you love the most was hurting you deeply.

Night had fallen once again. You hadn't slept for a few days, dark circles under your eyes, your skin very pale and completely chilled by your ill state. Your eyes were fixed on the computer. You didn't want to be the toxic, manipulative partner, but Natasha was giving you too many reasons to distrust her. If she really was the same amazing, honest woman you fell in love with, it wouldn't be a problem for you to have completely cloned her messages, location and data, right?

It's not as if Natasha wouldn't do that for you too, she's always been very possessive of what belongs to her.

Since you were a teenager you had the incredible gift of being able to steal any data and information from any phone and device. Being called a hacker seemed like a compliment, but with each passing year, you got deeper into your technological skills.

So you promised yourself that you would only look at her recent messages to check that everything was all right and, of course, try to calm your paranoia and your anxious heart. While the cloning system was finishing capturing Romanoff's data from her messaging app, you got up, grabbed the soup you had heated in the microwave and took a spoon, placing the blue pot with starry details on the table.

As you warmed up with a few spoonfuls of the salty white bean soup with chicken stock, shredded chicken and a dozen vegetables in between, you didn't want to discover that Natasha was probably lying to you under your nose.

Your Nat? Your kind, gentle, if reserved, but patient and caring Natasha?

No, you just needed to calm down and trust that your suspicions were just paranoia about her job and nothing more.

She would never do anything to break your heart, she loved you.

The faint beep coming from the computer made you wince in your chair, the taste of the delicious soup that was your favorite and that your beloved had left for you to eat quickly turned into a bitter plastic taste. You put the spoon away, quickly slid your fingers over the side of the computer, gripped the mouse tightly and stared at the screen.

At the top of the messages was Steve's contact and very familiar number.

You wouldn't have noticed if it had been a while ago, although you felt extremely jealous of the fact that he was too close to Natasha, always following her everywhere.

But there were his messages. Natasha had left at 7:35 in the evening. Rogers sent her three messages at 7:29, seemingly well ahead of schedule.

There was no message from any other Avenger indicating that Natasha had gone on a mission with the team, giving away the fact that this was already her first lie.

The first message read:

"Natasha, you know I'm completely crazy about you. Let's just go to the motel I told you about in Manhattan and spend the night. I know they're probably too sick to miss you, so we should enjoy it."

The second said:

"I loved the black lingerie you wore that day over the weekend. You were such a hot mess, Nat."

The lingerie he mentioned had been given to Natasha as a little dating present, given to her by none other than you.

The third message read:

"Okay, I'm right here in front of the Complex. Just meet me at the entrance, the car is parked next to it."

Your stomach churned, wanting to spit out all the soup you hadn't even finished eating. It was all true. The whole meaning of the story came out. It wasn't paranoia... your suspicions and mistrust were right. Natasha was cheating on you with her fucking smug face friend. For how long? It didn't matter, not anymore.

She made you look crazy.

The argument a little while ago, caused precisely on that day of the 'black lingerie' whole thing, was because you woke up in the middle of the night to her coming home apparently drunk and smelling of alcohol and trying to make the excuse that she was on a mission. You got angry and upset, saying that she had clearly lied to you and she tried to get around it, saying that you were confusing things and that you were too ill to say anything.

That night you preferred to sleep on your cramped two-seater sofa than in bed with her.

You already knew that. Your heart already knew. And yet you decided to ignore it all.

She cheated on you, she had crushed your heart in the most cruel and deceitful way.

You threw off the blanket around your body, repulsed at the smell of her there, and forced yourself to swallow that soup she had prepared for you, you having always hated wasted food. When you'd finished, you washed the dishes and slowly started to want to freak out, but you left your computer connected to her messages, expecting even more shit while you waited for her to return.

This time you weren't going to sleep. This time you weren't going to ignore your instincts and your alertness.

You were going to confront her. She should hear some nasty things for being such a bitch to you.

You slipped into your warm, comfortable pyjamas and opened your drinks cabinet. You've had problems with alcohol for most of your life, but thanks to years of therapy, talks at addiction groups and Natasha's support, you've managed to overcome all the shit that drinking has caused you. Still, you tried to drink casually, to keep the alcohol on your tongue on specific days.

Now, you needed at least a little alcohol in your blood to try and stand up to your lying girlfriend when she got home.

The clock struck nine forty-eight in the evening. Natasha had finally arrived.

You heard her footsteps on the carpet of your house, and the way she always fumbled to guess the main key from the bunch of keys on the door. Soon, she forced the handle and entered, carrying a small black leather bag that was already familiar to you, and wearing everything but the outfit she wore to go on missions. Natasha was wearing a long black dress, finished just at the thighs and clinging to her body, highlighting every incredible and fascinating curve she had, and high heels.

But no, she deserved anything but your admiration right now.

“Hey, my love, what are you doing up at this hour-” She asked, stopping in her tracks when she saw you with a glass of whisky in your hand, and your computer turned towards the door with Steve's messages on the screen.

“Did you have a good time on the mission with Rogers, Natalia?” You smiled cynically, the tip of your tongue dripping with venom, even though your heart was pounding with pain and disgust for her.

Natasha knew that when you called her by her real name, she had fucked up.

She froze in place, her hair standing on end and a knot quickly forming in her throat. Rogers' messages were there, especially the recent ones where he said he wanted to meet her again next week for another "special mission". She couldn't face your watery eyes or your expression of disappointment and disgust, but she quickly wanted to stand up for herself to try and convince you that she hadn't done anything wrong.

“Y/n. That's not what it looks like.” She swallowed, hearing your dark laugh.

“It's not what it looks like, there's been a mistake here, listen love bla bla bla. Tell me another fucking joke, Romanoff. Admit it. You're fucking Rogers behind my back! While I'm here rotting with sickness and worry for you!” You exclaimed, a solitary tear escaping your eye.

“That's not what's happening, it could never be! He only offered me a ride after the mission and-” She finished the sentence, almost tripping over her own feet.

“He gave you a ride on his popsicle stick. Yes, I see. From your crumpled clothes, your sweaty, red face, your body full of bites and hickeys from months, you'd just as soon come home naked!” You continued to scream, wanting to take all your pain out on her.

You wondered why it hadn't been enough for her. You didn't want to blame yourself, obviously not, but hadn't you given her the attention she wanted? The love and affection she needed? Yes, you had given her everything and more. Why did she have to look for that in Steve? Maybe he was better looking? Because of the pathetic serum that had transformed his genetics into something else. That was ridiculous, you thought.

Natasha remained silent, although her lips parted several times, probably searching for words to try to deny the shit she had done. She wanted to look like the victim, but she was guilty. Even more guilty than Steve himself. She was a liar, manipulative, repulsive and poisonous woman.

“You cheated on me, Natasha. You're a liar. You've cheated on me and slept with him while I was ill, you've lied right under my nose as if I were nothing. You're a lying, selfish bitch.” You cried, trying not to sob, because she didn't even deserve that from you.

“I'm really sorry, my love, this shouldn't have happened. It was a terrible mistake and I have to make it right, please listen to me.” She clung to your right arm.

You pushed her away as quickly as possible, trying not to let her get close to you. You smelled a strong, woody odour on her. The smell of him. You clenched your jaw tightly, unable to hold back the sea of tears.

“You've cloned my phone, how could you do that! Why don't you trust me, Y/n?” she exclaimed, her green eyes glistening with tears.

“You cheat on me and still cry? You still have the gall to ask me why I don't trust you.” You laughed between your tears, feeling your head ache deeply.

“My darling, please.” She pleaded, her hand touching your shoulder and you pushed her away without force.

“Don't touch me. Don't you fucking dare touch me. I want you out, do you hear me? Out of my house. Now, Romanoff.” You ordered, your chest heavy and your breathing starting to become unregulated.

“Forgive me. Please forgive me. I promise to fix this mistake, love.” She begged, still crying as you opened the door and slowly pushed her out.

“I forgive you. Because, after all, forgiveness is necessary sometimes. But I want you away from me, Romanoff. And out of my house. Make the most of your stay with your popsicle man. Now get out of here, have a good night.” You growled, closing the door in her face.

When you closed the door, your world fell apart.

Natasha cheated on you for months, it didn't even take you an hour and a half to find out. She cheated on you with her best friend, who was always picking on her and that made things more obvious. You didn't listen to your intuition and Natasha used that to her advantage.

You felt useless, even more so because you had been sick for so long, but deep down, you knew that you didn't cause this, you just tried so hard for her and gave everything you had to the woman you loved the most only to find out that she had been sleeping with another man for a long time.

You suddenly hated this house, it was still your home, but Natasha turned it into a House of Lies. And she made your world fall apart when she made your home your greatest enemy.

Natasha Romanoff was now your most painful memory, trying to be forgotten in the back of your mind.

[bettysupremacy]

HI oh my goodness i just flashed through ur entire page (its LOVELY writing) and i desperately need more!! I noticed the lack of Remus request so here i am B)

OKAY could I request plot for before remus and the reader are together? Like how they came to be ^^ mm maybe like "coincidentally" him running into her at her favorite bookstore or coffee shop (ITS CLICHE IM SORRY BUT I LOVE THESE LOCATIONS) until he finally asks her on a date !! (and maybe his friends spying on him just becuase hehe)

thank uu

HELLO I appreciate the support and there definitely is a lack of Remus. It’s cliche BUT CUTE! thank you for the request babe!!

“But I can’t just.. talk to her.”

“Why not?” James deflates. “Girls love that!”

They sit at a tiny table, in a tiny bookshop, in an even tinier cafe built in. The air crackles with cedar wood and vanilla, swirling around his hazy mind. It’s cozy and intimate but he has no place to put his legs, he sits awkwardly, leg bouncing anxiously. It accidentally hits the table. Sirius flinches from his mug.

“I’ll scare her.”

“Well then,” Sirius stirs his coffee. “don’t be weird.”

They came to study- or rather Remus came to study and his shadows came along. It’d been fine at first, computer out, a quiet Sirius. But Sirius has never had the patience to play quiet for long, especially when James is near.

“Maybe I’ll just leave it..” Remus murmurs.

Two voices shout at him. “No!”

Remus flinches mouthing sorry to the people around him. Sorry students he’d burdened with his rowdy friends. Hands to a sticky table, he pushes up. “M’Kay, I’m going.”

His feet feel heavy. He wants to do this, he wants your number, but god he doesn’t want to do this. Rejection is enough, but rejection in front of his two best friends? Looking back at his table, James encourages him. Two thumbs up and a hopeful face.

“Oh, shit!”

He’s crashed into you.

“Oh,” you startle, stumbling.

James and Sirius sink into their seats behind you. “Wow.”

Remus stabilizes you. “M’so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off.

“No seriously, shit, I’m sorry.”

You laugh, high and sweet. “I’m fine. At least there wasn’t coffee.”

“Has that happened?”

“Yes,” you breathe a laugh, dusting off your pants nervously. “before an interview.”

“That’s awful.” He’s genuine.

“It was kinda,” you ease. “they weren’t nearly as nice or attractive as you.”

He swallows. He thinks your pretty, very pretty. His eyes catch on your lips, your eyelashes. That’s a weird thing to notice, right? Eyelashes? He’s usually smoother than this, he wishes he was smoother than this. He’s embarrassed.

You flatten over his doubts like you can read his mind. “I’m clumsy, we can say this was my fault.”

“Noble.”

You shrug. “It’s not far from the truth.”

“Not very chivalrous of me.” He laughs a little.

“It’s okay,” you’re comforting, he likes that. “Did you need something over here?”

He scratches his neck, speaking before he can himself.

“Do you wanna,” he doesn’t know what to say. He started the sentence and backed out too late, but you stand there with patient eyes. He swallows a whine. “I’m usually a lot smoother than this, yanno?”

You laugh unabashed. “It’s okay.”

“Falling on you like a building threw me off, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s start over?” You ask. “What’s your name?”

“Remus.” He sounds a little more confident. “I was over there,” he points to James and Sirius who wave. “and I thought you were pretty, would you wanna get drinks sometime?”

You hold back a laugh at the formality of it all. “Yes, do you have a cell?”

“Yes.” He breathes, pulling out his small phone decidedly. He doesn’t rarely use it, ‘cept for plans. Skipping past texts from James, Sirius, Lily.. etc, he opens the little contacts icon. He doesn’t ignore them purposely, he just prefers to call.

“Here,” you smile, taking the phone from him gently. “this is where you can reach me if you want to buy me another cookie.”

He looks down, he hadn’t noticed the fallen treat.

“Don’t” you start firmly with an easy smile. “say sorry.”

He laughs, holding back another sorry. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” you reach down to point at the pen in his pocket. “Can I see that?”

He nods, pulling out the pen for you. It’d been abandoned at the same time he’d realized studying was no hope. His fingers brush against yours as he gives it to you, but you don’t let his hand far. Gently grabbing it, you look up at his confused eyebrows for a confirmation. A gentle can I?

“Oh,” he breathes, nodding. “go ahead.”

You take the pen to his skin and work the ballpoint over the rough surface. The ink bleeds into him as you write the address. You notice his scars, jagged deep tissue, and ignore them. His ears heat up. “Really good drinks here,” you explain “and next to a bakery.”

A laugh stumbles out of his lips before he can stop it and you look up to grin. “Noted.”

Letting his hand go, you watch him bring the scribble up to his eyes to read it. It’s messy but he thinks that has something to do with his scars rather than you.

“Time?” Remus asks, and you grab his hand again, writing a messy 8PM under your other ink marks. “I’ll uh see you there.”

“Perfect.”

He turns to walk, almost immediately turning back and grabbing your arm quickly. “Wait, what’s your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Remus.”

“I know.” You laugh.

He knows you’re not laughing at him, but he cringes anyway as he walks back, heavy with embarrassment, triumphant with the thrill of a date. the boys pat his back when he sits down.

“Poor thing.” Sirius consoles.

James scoffs. “He got the date!”

“But still,” Sirius sulks. “that was embarrassing.”

Remus glares. “Thanks.”

“Well go on,” James starts. “show us the writing.”

Remus sticks out his hand for the boys to see. They hum mildly, looking at him with approval. “Nice bar.” Sirius nods.

“Next to a bakery.” James affirms.

“I, uh,” Remus scratches the back of his neck. “made her drop her cookie.”

“You dickhead.” Sirius laughs.

“I didn’t mean to!”

He slumps in his chair as James hits Sirius. They argue, petulantly and boyish, and Remus looks away. You stand at the register buying a book he doesn’t remember you holding when he’d knocked into you. Smiling at the cashier you grab your change and the bag of goods you bought. He feels weird watching. This has got to be weird, right? But as you walk out, you glance to him, lifting your hand up to your ear during the doorbell chime.

Call me.

[lovers-rck]

okay. i finally wrote something. it's extremely short and stupid and cliche but i grew very fond of it. it doesn't have name yet but feel free to baptized it however you like.

enjoy and thanks for sticking around.

daily click for palestine

☆

the dim light of the room hits the yellowish walls. one of your posters is falling out.

ellie looks at you. you are hunched over some papers, your eyebrows are furrowed and you are making a non-intentional funny face.

"what are you reading?" ellie says, from the bed, her body sinking into your soft and warm sheets.

you are at your small and extremely messy desk. your back hurts, your head hurts, the ink of the letters printed on the crumpled paper mocks you and you are starting to lose your patience "um, acropolis and the greeks? i dont know. i can't wrap my mind about it."

ellie hums. she knows shit about art history.

"maybe i can help you" she says

she may not know anything about art history and the greeks and acropolis, but she know one thing: she is in love with you. she has been in love with you for a while now, and everytime you look at her, or you smile at her, o even when you flip your middle finger at her, she feels like being hit by a warm ray of sun in a cold day of winter.

"i just need a break" you say, and your body crashes into the bed. next to her.

"when is the exam?" ellie asks, her phone resting in her stomach.

"next week. im cooked"

your fingers run through your hair, you can feel how frustration and anxiety are spying behind the door waiting for the right moment to jump at you

"it drives me crazy not being able to understand anything of it, i really can't fail this exam" you continue, your eyes burning.

"you won't. you will be able to figure it out before the exam, you have time."

"no" you say, and ellie makes a face "i don't have time. im not like you ellie, i can't go to that exam and hope that luck is on my side."

ellie stays in silence. she can feel, and see, your anger and fear.

the jazz music that emanates from your cell phone is in the middle of a saxophone solo, slow and sweet, tints of melancholy color the strings of the instrument, causing the strangest feelings in ellie.

she ponders what to respond. she doesn't want to make you angry, but she is aware that she can't get rid of the frustration that reigns in your body no matter how much she would like to, so ellie thinks.

she thinks and thinks so much that the jazz solo ends withouth her noticing and the next musical delight that ellie hears is your voice.

"im sorry" you murmur, looking at her. your eyes are a bit glassy "i didn't mean to imply that you're dumb, or anything like that, it was stupid."

ellie smiles slightly "come here"

ellie opens her arms and you melt into her body. your head rests on her chest and your legs collide with ellie's, making the freckled girl's heart race slightly. her almost ghostly arm encircles your back, her fingertips hover tentatively over your shoulder, not daring to concretize the touch.

this has been going on for a few days now; ellie and you cuddling, but not so cuddled as to imply anything more than friendship, but not completely like friendship. sometimes ellie, at times like that and with a bit of foggy, dreamy thinking, pretends that you and her are more than just friends.

she hasn't dared to question it out loud, nor have you ever discussed it with her, all you both know is that your bodies respond instantly and instinctively to the hint, to the hidden desire, to the unspoken love of the other.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 5.5

Propaganda

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion) (Boba Count: 2 and 1 shared):

Madge propaganda from a show that had the pleasure of guesting with her! At the end of the day no matter how you squeeze or present it, a great character is a great character and Madge is the best by a mile. Wonderful one-liners, complex and layered relationships with everyone in the cast around her, a messy and real depiction of female sexuality (especially a lesbian!) that she is never punished or demeaned for, and all of this brought to life in a performance that could make a phone book fun. Look and you’ll see: Madge’s writing and acting speaks for itself!

Madge is literally THE BEST EVER

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats) (Boba Count: 2 and 1 shared):

Amazing character arc/growth; shadows follow her around; afraid of the sun; methanol is her drink of choice; is often told “I thought you were dead” despite a complete lack of evidence other than her deathly paleness; the morgue is her personal sanctuary; absolutely hilarious character; demanded to be co-owner of Funn Funerals with her brother rather than allowing him to continue running the business alone;(spoiler) decided NOT to get with her frenemy who she had been doing a will-they-won’t-they thing with the entire series!; writes smut in her free time

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359) (Boba Count: 1):

the most badass commander there is. she spent a week hunting a plant monster living on the air ducts of her station with a goddamn harpoon. she managed to keep her people alive and get them home. she managed to keep Eiffel alive for like five years and for that alone she deserves a fucking medal

vote Minkowski. I am not asking. do it.

Minkowski has ALWAYS been great

Art of Madge Stallion and Antigone Funn with thanks to @acornzest.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion):

Madge Stallion was submitted without propaganda.

we gotta get our girl some propaganda. she would hate it, but the mystery of it all is kinda part of the appeal here.

Madge stallion NEEDS no propaganda

Madge: so sexy she needs no propaganda

#madge stallion is a great woman to lose to

#Madge she's a sassy lesbian detective what else do you want

#madge stallion needs no propaganda #by virtue of being madge

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Raging lesbian in a lavender marriage

Seduced someone working for the enemy

Is just as chaotic and at time brain cell-less as her male companions

Loyal but still willing to call her friend since childhood out on his bullshit

She canonically fucks. Like in canon she fucks so much. See above about seducing the enemy and then pepper in her on again off again romance with Martha Hudson.

#madge propaganda time : #she will flirt with basically any girl she sees and oh she does it so well #also !!! she once flirted and got on with technically an enemy in the middle of a spying mission ???? #she went like 'oh sorry just gotta go to the loo' to go spy in the house got caught and flirted so well she 1/ got laid 2/ got information #3/ came back like nothing happened #with some motivation she could flirt and get a boner from a dead rock tbh #madge stallion IS THE SEXIEST

This is the woman who always has anything you might need in her bustle. Portable phonographs, certainly, but what else? Alcohol, without doubt. Knives? Probably. More knives? Wouldn't be surprised. Candy? Always good to have something to mollify Hampton with. More alcohol? Well, James can always do with a little nip. Another knife? Why not? Lockpick set? I mean, where do you keep yours?

Everyone messaging us “please let Madge kiss [redacted]” we will remember your support during this difficult time should this go our way

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats):

#antigone!!!!!!!!! #i just need one chance with her #she's perfect

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

What on earth could possibly be sexier than being presumed dead by the village she lives in at large. She genuinely cares about funerals as an art form, she puts so much care into her work. Possibly bisexual if that helps. Ghost wrote a wildly popular erotic novel with the help of village’s reverend. Come on just please vote for Antigone I’m so very sleepy and I can’t think of more reasons but I promise they’re there

I'm voting for Antigone not because she's sexier (she is) but because she needs at least One Win in her life. #girl failure solidarity

1. she is very sexy. We know she's deathly pale, she's described as transparent more than once as well as green and blue-skinned, she's 35~38 depending on what season you're listening to. She's allergic to like everything.

Her hair is canonically always a mess and she uses it to hold on to bones and things she's gonna need later. She wears the same dress every day (it has a hole in it)

She's one with the shadows and can blend in with her surroundings to a supernatural degree.

2. She is rough and socially inept and artistic and the most passionate person you can imagine. She puts her heart and soul into her work as a mortician, SHE CREATES PERSONALIZED EMBALMING FLUIDS TO MAKE THE CORPSES SMELL NICE and she WILL tell you about it.

She is somehow always angry or flustered about something and she will pull victorian era phrases you cannot imagine. She's been saying Christ Alive since before it was cool.

3. SHE LOVES SEXY THINGS!! she is the most fitting for this tournament cause she's the queen of learning to accept her desires!! She loves old french films and their weirdly shot sex scenes, she's canonically really good at writing erotica and likes to read it too. There's a whole episode dedicated to her conquering her fears and appearing on a naked calendar. Also we hear glimpses of her fantasies and she wants to tie up and dom the guy she likes so there's that too I guess.

She spent 17 years locked in her mortuary cause she was sad. SHE WANTED TO BECOME A CLOWN AS A KID. She is everything to me and I love juno very much but she is sexier and deserves to be known that way. VOTE ANTIGONE

Antigone's mess might be an acquired taste, but I think it's a deeply attractive mess.

SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH A BLOND GUY ONCE SHE EARNED HER REST

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359):

She did not just spend one week hunting the plant monster, she spent TWO WEEKS hunting the plant monster. Later on, she used the very same harpoon to murder an evil capitalist WHILE SHE HAD A BULLET IN HER CHEST.

She's haunted by the memory of the first time she took a life, and what's sexier than a character with regrets?

She works out. Muscle women. Enough said.

She's devoted to protecting her crew above all else, and despite her self-doubt, she's REALLY damn good at it.

She's a theater kid! She loves musicals! She writes showtunes! Sondheim is her favorite composer!

She Russian-Roulettes a guy into not blowing up her ship, and does such a good job of it that he never even realizes there aren't any bullets in her gun.

She's been trapped in a time loop, possibly multiple times.

She's the best character in all of audio drama, I love her, she's beautiful, she's sexy, and she deserves every vote.

#minkowski my beloved. love of my life. other half of my heart. sexiest woman in podcast ever. i love her

#MINKOWSKI!!!!!! #i love her sooo much fun fact

#my girl! my favorite girl! she won! #let's keep this energy going everyone!

I don't really remember anything about Wolf 359 since I only listened to a few episodes so I'm throwing my lot in with whoever has the most compelling/funniest propaganda. I think this would be funny and I commit to nothing if not the bit

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

But. MINKOWSKI. Please read all that Minkowski propaganda I wrote and then consider voting for her. She's the love of my life and THE sexiest podcast woman, bar none.

Please. I beg of you. Read all the propaganda I wrote, and then vote Minkowski. If you're still not convinced:

She's a first-generation Polish immigrant, and a huge part of her arc is about feeling like she had to hide her identity and prove herself to make it in the US. When she lets her accent slip out in episode 52, it's the sexiest thing to ever happen.

She has the entire rule book for her space mission memorized so she can better take care of her ship.

She talks to ghosts on multiple occasions.

She has a gay little dynamic with the 2024 sexiest podcast character, Isabel Lovelace.

She expertly navigates multiple hostage situations.

Along with musicals, she's ALSO really into Sylvia Plath.

She lives under a rock and does not know anything about pop culture, which is adorable.

She writes show tunes!

[robobee]

can you tell me more about henry x gansey. I feel like I'm so close to seeing the light

this is who you are. to me. for asking. i love (sar)chengsey SO SO BAD. i have made several posts about them across the years including at minimum 5 fics (eg 1, 2) but its like. i ADMIT my favorite version of them requires editing of canon(in that they dated and broke up before TRB) but even if you DONT do that and stick exclusively to whats written:

required reading IMO is specifcally TRK chapters 28, 29, 30, 37, 38, 58, 66. i knowwww we all forget wtf happened in trk but i feel theyre so good for establishing henry as a well rounded character in a subtle and natural way

i will begin this essay by pointing out that henry jokes and wears a 'snazzy' outfit one time which is all fanon cares about BUT he canonically knows way more about the fairy market and declan's history and niall lynch than ANY of the gangsey do. also he got KIDNAPPED and kept in a GRAVE for FIVE ENTIRE DAYS. and has had weapons pointed at him MORE THAN ONCE! (ch37).

^the logo bear is a henry thesis statement. to me. now to the meat of it. gansey and henry are character foils in almost exactly the same way ronan and kavinsky are. (new guy with an established friend group who you see on the fringes abruptly becomes a main character who has one-on-one interactions with a member of the gangsey going through a crisis of self.) henry acknowledges this by pointing out their shared age 10 traumas + their shared tendencies to put themselves into the exact situations they're afraid of (gansey with the outdoors, henry with holes). gansey specifically says that henry is practically his twin,

and smth i find crucial abt chengsey is that henry is the only person who has never needed anything from gansey. gansey who has spent the entirety of his appearance since page one making plans for his own demise, desperately stressed about how people will function without him, what happens to ronan, what happens to noah, what adam's father could do to him, etc. henry is the manic pixie dream girl urging gansey to actually LIVE and not just wait to die.

henry is the only one of the gangsey who fundamentally understands that every side of gansey is gansey. blue likes who he is but hates president cell phone. henry not only sees president cell phone, he breaks through PCP when gansey is IN that mode. it's why gansey's parents like him better than ronan and adam. they'll GET each other in a way that adam or blue or ronan can't share because theyre inherently different in personality & the way theyve been raised. the reason noah goes away when henry enters the situation is because henry/noah functionally fill the same Vibe slot :shrug: there's smth to be said about henry and gansey's individual reactions to having guns pointed at them but this is long enough as is.

one last thing is that henry has been in an enemies-to-friends thing with gansey the whole time. henry was specifically meant to spy on gansey for nefarious reasons but CHOSE to betray his mother and change his mind and choose gansey's friendship. i think it's largely because gansey passed a test of mettle by just. being a good person. and this friendship with henry SAVES HIS LIFE because when everyone else is freaking out, henry says the one thing nobody else realises, the one thing that actually kickstarts gansey's resurrection:

WAIT SORRY ONE LAST EDIT. when i read this at 16 i was like "....hot. will make this my personality now."

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

family. ( nick burkhardt x reader )

gif belongs to me

You crossed paths with Monroe due to your role within the Wesen council, however, you considered him a friend. When you heard the council planned to strike Nick, the Grimm you had once stopped by to talk about, concerned for Monroe's safety once news got out that he was friends with a Grimm, you warned the Blutbad and he was grateful for the heads up. Then when the attack was arranged, you went to help him defend the Grimm.

While not the strongest Wesen, a Pflichttreue is loyal, fearless, and smart, and you know how to outsmart your enemies. The council knew about your friendship with Monroe, hence why you resorted to spying to find out what they were hiding. Monroe had told you about the trailer and you found the duo inside, warning them that the council was on their way.

"This is Nick. The one they're trying to kill." Monroe introduced.

You sent the Blutbad a smile, "I know. I've seen a picture." You both looked towards the door when you heard footsteps outside, smelling the Wesen arriving. "They're here."

"You don't have to stay and fight," Nick told you.

"I'm already on their bad side. Might as well go for broke. Besides, any friend of Monroe's is a friend of mine." You glanced at Monroe who sent you a small smile before looking at Nick when he held out a gun to you.

"Thank you."

"Thank me if we're still alive." You sent him a smile, cocking the shotgun.

It became common after that night that you spent time in the trailer, bringing your own knowledge to the team. You were shunned from the Wesen community, even Pflichttreue's refused to stand by your side after learning you had aided a Grimm. Nick felt guilty for the way you were cast aside, but you never let it show that you were affected, although it hurt when your closest friends refused to talk to you.

There were many times Nick had observed you when you weren't looking as you both scoured books for answers. Tonight was no different.

"I think I found it." You spoke up and looked over at the Grimm as he stood next to you, leaning on the table. "Here." You translated the text from German and looked up at him, realizing how close you were.

"Have I told you how much I appreciate all your help?"

"You may have mentioned it once or twice." You smiled. He frequently called you brilliant or thanked you for helping him. You knew he felt guilty that you had been shunned by the Wesen community but you formed stronger friendships with him, Hank, and Monroe.

Nick often thought about that night as it was the first time you kissed. Before you could discuss what it meant, Hank called and he had to meet him to follow up a lead. "We'll talk about this later?"

You sent him a smile, "Sure."

He mirrored the smile as he left.

Now here you were, two years later, giving birth to your first child. Your family had come around to your relationship with a Grimm, although there were moments when you felt they kept him at a distance, and when you had contractions for over an hour, you called your mother, hoping she would drive you to the hospital. You had prolonged going to the hospital, keeping busy until your water broke, and were now more than ready for some painkillers.

Instead of going to the hospital, she took you upstairs, explaining the tradition of home births, and how all the women in your family had given birth at home. You realized quickly it was pointless arguing to go to the hospital, and you were already too tired to try.

"Can you call Nick? I want him to be here." You told her as you lay on the bed, your mother propping your back with the pillows.

"What is he going to do? He's a detective, not a doctor."

You woge as a growl rose in your throat, glaring at your mother during a contraction. "Call Nick!"

She nodded, sighing as she used your cell phone to call him, leading to an argument as Nick believed you should go to a hospital. Your mother rushed over to you once she hung up, and you shifted back to your human form, following her breathing exercises.

"I'll be right back, I'll get a bowl of water and a cloth."

You nodded, continuing the exercises, closing your eyes as you hoped Nick would arrive soon. When she returned, your sisters and aunts were by her side with blankets and towels. Your aunt monitored your progress and it felt like days instead of hours when she announced it was time to start pushing.

"Where is Nick?"

It had been a while since your mother called him and he still hadn't arrived. Whether he was working a case, or searching leads on a Wesen, when you called and said you needed him he dropped everything and rushed to be by your side.

"I'll call him." Your sister said as she left the room. She sent you a smile over her shoulder when you thanked her.

Several minutes later she returned with her cell phone in hand and you knew her expression spelled something was wrong. "What? Oh, no, what is it?"

"He is stuck in traffic across town."

You threw your head back onto the headboard, groaning from despair and the pain. Your mother sat beside you, rubbing your arm, "Now, honey, everything will be fine. We're here."

Several hours passed by and you were beginning to lose hope Nick would arrive in time as your mother and sister held your hands, while one of your aunts dabbed your forehead, and another told you when to push.

A loud bang sounded downstairs and heavy footsteps followed until Nick appeared, grey eyes wide, hair disheveled and you cried out in relief at the sight of him.

"You're here!"

"Why are you sweating?" Your mother grimaced when he took your sister's space beside you.

"I ran halfway across town." He took your hand, covering your joined hands with his free hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now that you're here." You leaned against his chest, closing your eyes.

"I still think you should go to a hospital." He murmured as he kissed your head.

Before your mother could list the many women in your family who had given homebirths, you tightened your grip on their hands as you cried out, pushing as your aunt counted down from ten.

Soon a cry pierced the room as your son was born and Nick pressed a kiss to your forehead, smiling brightly as he murmured praises. You smiled softly, resting your head on his shoulder while your aunts wrapped the newborn in warm towels and blankets. You looked at your husband when he combed your hair away from your cheek, and he could see how tired you were from your smile.

"I love you."

He placed a hand on your cheek, leaning in to kiss you, pulling back to whisper, "I love you too," before pressing his lips to yours for a few moments longer.

"Oh, he's so beautiful!" The sound of your mother fawning over her grandson made you both pull away and your sister handed the baby to her. Your mother tucked the blanket beneath your son's chin, smiling as she looked over at you. "Well done, honey." Her eyes moved to Nick, nodding at the bathroom door. "Nick, come help me clean him up."

He kissed your forehead before standing up and you smiled as he walked away, looking at your aunt when she began to help clean you up. You were exhausted when he returned, carrying your son in his arms, your sister keeping you cool as she dabbed your forehead with a cold cloth.

"Is she okay?" He frowned, seeing you had woged.

"It's just the stress. She'll be fine." Your aunt assured him with a smile. "We'll leave you two alone."

"I'll be downstairs." Your mother said.

"Thank you." At first, he was concerned by their plan for a home birth, but now, knowing you both were okay, he was grateful.

Your mother sent him a nod and a small smile before she left.

The two had formed an understanding after their talk in the bathroom where she expressed her worry for you and your child due to being a Grimm and Nick explained that you hadn't helped him fight other Wesen since you found out you were pregnant and he planned to keep it that way, preferring to keep you out of harm's way despite knowing how well you could handle yourself in a fight if needed. You had stayed up late one night talking about his work as a Grimm and while you confessed that you could never feel the same way about anyone else, you would always worry about him, but you wanted to live as normal life as you could. Nick agreed, inwardly thrilled that your pregnancy had made you reconsider fighting alongside him. In the early days of your relationship, you had argued about it a lot, wondering if he didn't trust you enough but Nick explained that there was no one he trusted more than you and Monroe. You helped him become the Grimm he wanted to be, teaching him everything he needed to know and now that he could, he wanted to protect you - and for you to keep out of harm's way. 

When the room was empty, Nick closed the door and walked over to the bed with your son in his arms. He lay beside you, setting your son in the middle and you gazed down at the newborn with teary eyes. "Hey," 

"Hi," You sent him a smile as you lifted your eyes when you felt his stare and kissed him tenderly for a moment. You pulled away and both of you gazed down at your son who was sleeping soundly. Nick's eyebrows raised when he saw the white fur, a mixture of black spots and lined markings on your son's face.

"Whoa," He whispered.

You leaned down to nuzzle your nose against his, pulling away to watch as the fur disappeared and your son opened his grey eyes for a moment before you hushed him back to sleep.

"He's perfect, isn't he?"

Nick smiled at you as you gazed down adoringly at your sleeping son. "Yeah, he is."

You met his gaze, smiling softly. The birth of your first born brought your family and Nick closer, as your mother could see how dedicated he was to his family and how much he adored you both. She always dropped hints about another grandchild and Nick choked on his morning coffee when she mentioned your father's sister had six kids. You still helped him research Wesen but you never fought alongside him or Monroe, spending your time with your son and later your daughter. When you met Nick he had no family left and all you ever wanted was to have children of your own, pleased you could give him another family. You knew that your children would hardly be 'normal' being half-Grimm and half-Pflichttreue but you wanted them to live in both worlds. Go to parties with their friends and grow up being taught everything Nick had to learn on his own. You wanted them to grow up knowing exactly who they were and how much they were loved. Nick wanted them to be prepared, to know his side of the family and when he came home one night from work he had listened outside the door of the bedroom as you told your children stories he had told you about his parents and Marie, he became teary-eyed.

His favorite moments were when he could stay home and make the most of his time with the family you had created. Nick would wake up when your son cried and change his diaper before taking him downstairs for breakfast, allowing you to sleep undisturbed. The first few times it happened you would suddenly wake up on high alert and rush downstairs to find Nick lying on the floor with your son on his playmat or on the sofa with your son on his chest.

"Can you say mama? Dada? How about Grimm?"

You smiled as you approached the two and leaned on the back of the sofa as you greeted them. "I think he's a little young for that last one."

"I thought I was starting him off easy. Your mother was trying to teach him how to say Pflichttreue the other day."

You giggled, leaning over to kiss him good morning before heading to the kitchen to make some coffee.

When his aunt died he felt alone in the world - taking him back all those years to when his parents died. But you had given him everything he ever wanted, spent every minute taking care of him and your family, and Nick was both grateful and in complete awe of you, lucky he got to call you his wife and the mother of his children.

[melloollem]

Old Love Young|| Jason Todd x No reader gender

Summary: Jason's jealousy over his best friend rekindles old feelings.

Warnings: Jealousy, mention of injuries, No gender specified,English is not my native language.

(DC masterlist)

Jason knew he shouldn't get carried away by teenage exploits, he learned that after his disappointment as Robin, but he couldn't push them away when it came to you.

You were always Jason's sweetest teenage dream, the most idealized and perfect young love. He even remembers the two of you sharing a quick kiss in your teens, but everything had dissipated by the time he died.

Your teenage love never had time, it died prematurely with Jason in that warehouse. When the boy, now with a lock of white in his hair, came back, he was too blinded by hatred to have time for that feeling and, despite having you by his side, you were only his friend, the closest one, and your unlived love had been put aside by both of you.

On another of Gotham's cold nights, the Red Hood walked the rooftops looking for a crime, there was nothing reported in his communication, but he always preferred to check with his own eyes and there was always something and tonight would be no different.

He just didn't find what he expected, instead of Gotham's characteristic night crimes, Jason saw you coming out of a coffee shop. The vigilante knew about your mania for believing in your instincts to save you from nighttime dangers or even the luck of having one of the vigilantes to save you, which he thought was idiotic.

He was about to text you "Go home, now", but before he could even pick up his cell phone, he saw a figure approaching from behind you, he immediately raised one of his guns, that would be a clear shot, what prevented you from firing was the quick way you turned back with one of your characteristic smiles.

You had taken the coffee the boy offered you while holding another. You were now walking side by side, laughing and chatting openly. Red Hood tilted his head to the side, who was that?

He remembers knowing all his friends beforehand, it was common for you to spend evenings looking up the names of acquaintances on one of his surveillance computers, it was a good pastime in his words. But Jason was sure he didn't know that one, was he your friend? Well, with how happy he seemed to see you, that didn't seem the right word to use, but any other word sounded bitter in Jason's mind.

He wondered if he should walk away, it didn't seem right to be spying on you on top of a building in Gotham, even though that wasn't his initial intention, but it seemed so wrong to leave you there, to leave you with a guy who didn't know who he was, who didn't know what he wanted with you, to leave you with a guy who was looking at you in a way that Jason could do, something about it seemed very wrong to him, it all seemed very wrong.

Jason didn't notice any reciprocity on your part, but that didn't change the intention of the boy next to you, very interested, very smiling, very close. He should get you the fuck out of here, that's exactly what he should do, and before his body could even act on impulse to throw him towards the two of you, the vigilante's communicator rang, which almost enraged him.

He sighed, he had to go, a small crime a few blocks away, he was the closest vigilante, but at no time could he get you out of his mind, he didn't know exactly why, but it bothered him, like nothing before, he was sure he had gotten over his feelings for you, but that thing in his chest was unmistakable, he was jealous, not in a platonic way, of course not. He didn't want that guy to touch you, he didn't want that guy to kiss you or love you, because he would never love you the way Jason would, and just the possibility of him having the chance to do that put Jason's thoughts into a fog.

You were now sewing Jason up in the bathroom of your apartment, he was inside your bathtub, while you were sloppily sewing up his arm "Are you trying to torture me?" Hissed the man in response to your carelessness with his recent injury, you didn't reply to his comment, not considering him worthy of your attention.

When you'd finished what you were doing, you began to bandage the man's wound. You didn't have much idea what you were doing, despite your years with Jason and your not-so-rare nights as a doctor, you'd never really got the hang of it, you only did it because Jason never had anyone to heal him and you refused to let him sew himself up.

"Hey, what are you trying to do?" Jason said with a slightly irritated, pain-induced tone. "You're complaining too much to someone who showed up at my apartment bleeding," a little anger leaked out of your words, but Jason knew it was only the beginning.

You finished the bandage and let go of his arm, getting up and leaning against the bathroom doorframe, and stood there staring at Jason "You should just tell me if you intend to shower with me." You sighed at his idiotic comment. "Can you explain to me how this shit happened and how you ended up in my house?" Your face contorted in anger and you crossed your hands in front of you, you were really angry.

"I already explained it to you." said Jason before getting up from the bath and putting a towel wrapped around his waist, an act that made you turn your back, giving him a minimum of privacy. "Yeah, Jason, you told me it was a simple robbery and how does that end up with you being stabbed?" You said, still unyielding in your temper, and that was Jason's turn to sigh. He knew you were right, a simple robbery in an alley with a guy definitely inferior to him shouldn't end up with him being stabbed, it never did.

"I was distracted thinking about other things." Now he wondered why he hadn't told you a great story, one full of highly trained men and swords instead of a penknife, that would have spared him this conversation. He walked past you, into your room, and opened one of the drawers in your dresser, one of the ones where you made him keep his clothes for occasions like this.

"What's so important that you'd risk your life, what the fuck, Jay?" you were revolting at his simplistic response. "It was a stab in the arm, don't be so exaggerated." He said as he pulled out a set of clothes from the dresser. You let out a strangled sigh in disbelief. Jason heard your footsteps approaching and turning towards you, you stopped in front of him. Jason was always amazed at how beautiful the yellowish light in your apartment made you look.

"Be honest." Your tone was harsh, leaving no space for another of the vigilante's taunts, which Jason felt as a challenge, which quickly brought on the feeling Jason was trying to ward off, jealousy. He clenched his jaw, he really tried to control it, but it felt wild, way beyond Jason's control and he wanted explanations.

"Who was that?" His tone was different from everything he had said that night, a firm voice, like he was interrogating you, he didn't feel the need to hide it any longer and even if he tried he wouldn't be able to, it seemed stronger than him. "Who?" Your face gave way to a confused expression, a distant one from the one before, which only made Jason squint a little and run his tongue over his teeth, an arrogant posture, as if he was suspicious of your words.

"What were you doing tonight?" You still didn't know who he was talking about "The guy in the coffee shop.". And now you were angry again "Were you fucking spying on me?" The man rolled his eyes at your doubt "Don't be ridiculous." Leaving where he was trapped between you and the dresser.

"Now, am I ridiculous for thinking that you knowing exactly where I was minutes ago is espionage?" You almost shouted, still facing the dresser, as Jason brazenly got dressed behind you. "It's not spying, I was doing my job and you were there. Turn around." You followed his command, returning to the proximity of your bodies, you were really trying to make it look like a draw. "Okay, Jason, you weren't spying on me, now how the fuck does that relate to you getting stabbed?"

"Are you still in love with me?" His tone was serious, he didn't seem angry, but there was something there that wasn't gentle, his eyes analyzed you differently. Jason didn't lose his touch as you looked away quickly, before returning in a more lost way. You looked almost distressed. "What does that mean?" Your voice left no doubt, almost stuck in your throat, as if it didn't want to come out, as if it had been there for a long time.

"Before I died, you said you were in love with me..." Benevolent territory for disaster, Jason felt his feelings piercing him, the love he felt for you, the anger at his own death, the jealousy of some stupid guy who kept you company tonight. Everything was mixing inside him, fermenting a probable collapse. "Do you still do it?" Even so close to your face he still seemed to be hunting your gaze, looking for something, that feeling he felt for you and hoped would be reciprocated with the same intensity, he wanted you to feel something boiling inside you too and for the same reason as him, love, not in a platonic way, but the rawest, most numbing romantic love and he hoped that feeling would be for him.

You didn't have a good answer for that, the only thing you knew was that Jason had been the first boy you'd ever liked and as you looked into his eyes you thought you'd be the only one for the rest of your life or maybe it was just the longing of youth talking, maybe it was the fact that you never had the chance to love him like you wanted to every night, maybe it's the fact that you never knew where that feeling would take you both, or maybe it's the fact that you've never stopped thinking about him for a single day since his death, along with the fact that Jason made you fall in love a second time with the new person he was, a slight remnant of the old boy, but one you loved even more, in a way that no teenage love resembles. You knew the answer, but you didn't have time to give it to Jason.

Your lips had been captured by Jason's, an eager kiss, steeped in desperation. He feared your answer, he feared that your answer would be "no" and he would never have the chance to do that, to lose you without ever having the chance to kiss you as he had always wanted to, and he also feared your "yes", that you too would feel something piercing you for so long, that you would want him entirely, that you would love him.

Unaware of all Jason's fears, you just let that moment consume you, giving yourself completely to the kiss, giving yourself completely to Jason, entwining your fingers in the wet strands of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, giving him more room to explore your mouth, hoping that with the act he would find the answer he was looking for.

At some point you pulled away, but you still had Jason's arms around your waist, he had put him there at some point during your kiss. Your breathing was a little ragged and his wasn't much different "I don't want to be presumptuous, so how does this have to do with the start of our conversation?"

Jason let out a slight laugh at her question "We've just kissed and you're still talking about it?" His voice was humorous, the tightness around his waist lessening a little. "Well, I can't relate one event to the other," you said as if it were obvious.

"Is he, the boy from the coffee shop, something of yours?" He said, ignoring your doubt, hoping you'd got that kiss right. "Just a work colleague and...?" You still wanted to know how this related to all the events of the evening. "Then we don't need to talk about it anymore." And before you had a chance to oppose his decision, he gave you another kiss. Jason was never going to confess that he had been stabbed because he was jealous of you with someone else, never, he would rather go through a long night of questioning you, which he would silence with kisses, he knew that soon you would connect everything and have your answer.

You were no longer Jason's teenage love, the two of you were too old and disbelieving for something so innocent, what you felt for each other was something hotter, more dangerous, something that Jason was sure could lead to his death at any moment, but he was still in love with you in the same numb and clumsy way as before, just as he did when he was Robin and would now do as the Red Hood.

[shadesoflsk]

Hiiii!!!! I have an idea! Imagine like getting married to leon/going through the whole process of wedding shopping etc with him. Also do you think he would cry at a wedding? I love your works sm you're so talented I hope you have a great day/night! 💗

leon kennedy x gn reader

Anon... You don't know how much I enjoy thinking about Leon getting married and all those sappy things. It's like you read my mind. And thank you so much ueueue. I'm glad you like my works. <3

I feel like Leon would act really calm and collected in front of you. Even cracking some jokes about not having anything planned out for the wedding. But Dear God that is far from the truth. 

But first, let’s talk about everything before the whole preparation. Leon would definitely struggle to get the right ring size for you. Acting smooth? Not in his dictionary. At first, he’d try it when both of you are ‘sleeping.’ He once read someone could get the exact size by wrapping a string around his partner’s finger.

He tried.

It was unsuccessful. 

You either shifted in your sleep or he couldn’t get the right angle to wrap the thin string.

Ultimately, he just asked you to try some rings, just for funsies… Of course. 

Now, after the exhausting task of buying the ring and actually asking you to marry him, he'd be delighted to start organizing the wedding.

At first, he'd try to brush it off by saying that both of you should go with the flow, not to stress over the wedding. But his old-ass would discover Pinterest and a new world was presented for him. His favorite late-night activity would be searching for wedding ideas and he takes his job very seriously.

Glasses and all, he’d hold his cell phone so close to his face for you not to notice him. Poor guy doesn’t know that you can see through the reflection of them. Usually, he’d leave all the decorations to you, even when you two decided to move in together since he lacks creativity. But a wedding involves two people, and that day is just as special for him as it is for you.

Eventually, he understands he doesn’t need to feel bashful. All of his life has been surrounded by destruction and violence, he may as well indulge in the domesticity and the tranquility of finally settling down with someone he loves.

Leon is a foodie, so his favorite appointments are the ones in which both of you have to try the dishes you want to serve at your wedding. Growing up, he didn’t get to eat home meals, and even when he first started the Police Academy most of his meals consisted of takeouts or food he’d prepare himself. So the mere task of devouring those plates for the sake of the wedding was a great excuse.

He wouldn’t wear a suit and you wouldn’t force him either. However, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t put some effort into how he looks. Part of the wedding planning included a visit to his most trusted barber! He’d definitely shave to look clean in the pictures, but his hair would remain the same.

Leon talks to you and shares his thoughts about the wedding reception. Flashy and showy types of settings aren’t his thing so he suggests going for a beach wedding. The suggestion soon turns into persuasion. He’d show you videos of people getting married on the beautiful Caribbean beaches, or some perfect attires for the beach.

“Oh, it seems that my phone is spying on me or something.” He glances a subtle look at you to see if you’re listening to him. By the tone of his voice, you already know what he is implying.

“Why is that?” And when you finally look at him, you see how his smiles get wider. Of course he got you.

“Because… YouTube won’t stop showing me beach wedding videos. How crazy it is, right?”

So, Leon’s pleas are heard and you decide to go for it. Although, something you both agree on is the fact that it needs to be private, just friends and family.

And yes, he definitely cries at the wedding. One thing he kept from his religious past is the vows, he promises you a future in which he is going to be next to you no matter what. So, in the middle of his speech, his voice would crack, a tiny bit. Clearing his throat he acts like nothing happened but everyone could notice how emotional he is.

Overall, Leon would be delighted to take this next step with you. The last thing he expected in his life was to find love in this messed-up world. And don’t get me started on how Leon would be as a husband because that man is husband material through and through! I’d write a whole essay just for him.