#I don’t really like this one that much to be honest.

[homunculus-argument]

hey there! this sounds like a bit of a silly question, but as a trans guy, you’re one of the few trans people i’ve been following almost since i joined tumblr, so based on your other anon ask and answer i figured i’d pop in and ask if you have any advice? if you want to answer, ofc :) — i foresee this being a bit long, so i totally get if not

so i’m also a trans guy, but i haven’t been able to take any steps toward medical transitioning before since i live with my parents. but i’ll move out soon, and i still can’t decide if i should take any of these steps even once i do. i’ve never felt like i particularly wanted to medically transition (i don’t really care about how my body looks + i’ve never really cared about changing any of it), but i would like to be seen a guy — i don’t mind if not so by strangers, but maybe so by like, my friends. but i can’t help but feel like i’d be laughed at for wanting that — i’m not naturally androgynous or masculine looking to others and i have never been mistaken for a guy, because i have really long hair, d cups, and curves. and without medically transitioning, i also kinda feel like i’m… betraying the trans community, since i’m not really putting the effort into my transition and so i’m just ‘pretending’, even though i do know i’m not.

so my question would be: as a trans person who has transitioned, socially and medically, do you think people are more understanding than i think they are currently? do you know of any trans people who don’t want to medically transition, and do you think it’s possible to live fulfilled that way? or even: do you think it would be easier for someone like me to just live a lie? i usually tell people i’m a lesbian, because they definitely would not look at me and assume ‘straight guy’, but also, as a trans person who doesn’t want to medically transition, i’m just always worried that i won’t be taken seriously. i feel like your experience of being trans and probably interacting with the community is much more than mine, which is why i ask this last one — i would try being open myself, but again, i’m still living with my parents unfortunately.

I'll be honest I don't actually really know much "community" save for former art school classmates. I've only known one trans person irl who chose not to medically transition - at the time, Finland's trans law was still shitty and required sterilisation for legal sex change, and all that. She didn't want kids or anything, but refused to engage in the process as her own little personal civilian protest. I don't want to paint some caricature picture of some Sharp Dommy Tall Scary Goth Trans Anarchist, but I was deeply impressed by the way she didn't do a single thing to try to seem smaller, softer, or in any way submissive or docile to be ~feminine~ the right, socially accepted way.

She wasn't just taller than most men but usually the tallest person in the room, and she stood out in a crowd of cis women like a crane in a chicken coop - a bird just as much as they are, but a different kind of bird. And I remember thinking that I could never do that, being so unflinching and unhesitant about standing out in the crowd because assimilating and muting yourself is beneath your dignity.

Honestly, I don't know what to tell you about being openly trans without transitioning medically, save for that it takes more guts than being able to just go stealth. I had physical dysphoria about the way my body was, and was desperate to get top surgery just for the sake of my own physical comfort, and I like the convenient anonymity of being able to just be Just Some Guy who doesn't attract anyone's interest or curiosity.

It's a smart move to not come out to your parents before you're out of their house and not relying on them for anything - this is something everyone should use their own judgement for, but I stress it to every queer kid to not take the risk if there's any chance that they'll react poorly while they still have power over you. But living your whole life in the closet - "living a lie" is a good way to put it - will corrode you from the inside.

It's better to live in peace with yourself and against the world, than in peace with the world against yourself. There is absolutely nothing in your power that you could do to change the minds of people who have already decided that they don't respect you, and if they try telling you that they would, if you only met their approved criteria, they are lying. That's bait they're dangling in front of you, and there's no "earning" the respect of such people.

Stay true to yourself and be good to people, and you'll have the respect of people who are capable of respecting you. Don't waste your time and energy on people who won't respect you, every thought and effort you spare them is wasted on them.

[moonstruckme]

Hi!!! I really really love how you write Lily! Could you please write something where Lily is comforting the reader who’s going through a friendship breakup and is taking it really hard?

Thanks lovely! <3

Lily Evans x fem!reader ♡ 864 words

You can tell your moping is starting to make your girlfriend nervous. She keeps bringing you things as she bakes, first the beaters to lick clean, then a spoonful of dough, and now cookies in droves, two or three at a time as different rounds come out of the oven and delivered with brief, cajoling kisses. She’s trying to infuse you with a better mood by all manner of sweet things. 

“I’m okay,” you promise as she comes back in, your plate reloaded. “I really am full this time, baby.” 

Lily hums discontentedly but sets the cookies down. “And when you say you’re okay,” she says, perching on the armrest beside where you’re sitting on the couch, “do you mean you’re okay without more food, or…” 

“In general,” you reassure her. “I’m alright, really. I can feel you worrying.” 

Her fingers skim down your hair, slotting a piece behind your ear. “Well, I don’t mean to make you feel my worry,” she says, “but I don’t mind worrying. And this would be a…a very understandable thing to be not okay about.” 

You can’t quite look at her. “Yeah.” You shrug, trying to sound lighter than you feel. “I just figure there’s not much point in being all sad about something I can’t fix. Best to move on, you know?” 

“I do know a thing or two about losing someone you’re close to,” Lily agrees. 

And she does, you remember. Her sister. You look up, shameful, but she only smiles gently. 

“Moving on does help, definitely, but you can’t really just skip over the feelings, either. It’s…” Her expression goes sheepish. “Well, it sounds sort of awful to say, but it’s almost like they’ve died, isn’t it? At least, the relationship you had did.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, relieved. You’d felt wrong for thinking it, but you’ve been feeling the same. The awkward, unidentifiable tension you’ve been carrying around starts to uncoil. “It’s really weird, not talking to them.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” She takes your hand, rubbing her thumb over yours softly. Her eyes are heavy with understanding. “It’ll probably always be weird, if I’m honest. But it won’t always hurt so terribly. You know this is the right thing for both of you.” 

“I know,” you say, shallowing your breaths in an attempt to suppress the tears stinging in your eyes. Lily strokes a short line into the back of your hand. You can feel the weight of her gaze on you, but you keep your stare determinedly downward, blinking forcefully. “Sorry,” you choke out. “I don’t mean to be such a drag.” 

“Baby,” Lily laughs, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and the other around your head as she pulls you into her chest. And she’s all softness; soft flesh giving way to your shoulder, and a soft hand cradling your face, the soft silk of her hair tickling your nose as it falls around your face like a curtain. 

“You’re not a drag,” she promises, “you’re just sad. It’s okay to be sad, my love. Don’t stopper yourself up on my account, okay? Please.” 

You don’t cry for long, possibly because there’s not much left to cry for. You’re both right; what’s done is done, and it’ll hurt even if that hurt is pointless. You’ve lost someone who other people still get to have, or maybe you’ve lost the love more than the person, and maybe that’s worse. You can’t fix it, don’t want to, so this is all that’s left to do. Miss it. 

“My sweet girl,” Lily murmurs into your hair, “I’m sorry. You’ll be alright, I promise.” 

“I know,” you say croakily. You reach up to wipe your eyes, but she beats you to it, thumb stroking underneath your lashes with enough care to nearly have you bursting into tears all over again. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be, you haven’t done anything wrong.” She sounds almost pleading. “You’re allowed to be upset, okay? Really, I’ve been counting on it all day. I’m just glad you didn’t go to bed without letting yourself have a cry. I was starting to really worry.” 

“Is that what the cookies have been about?” you tease, feeling lighter as tears cool on your cheeks. Your voice comes out easier. 

Lily hums. “Perhaps.” 

“Wait, really?” You pull away from her chest so you can see her. “You were trying to feed me until I felt better?” 

“Well, would there be anything wrong with that?” 

“No,” you laugh, “but I feel like it’d have been a lot less effort just to cuddle.” 

Lily beams, then looks guilty for it, tapering her smile down into something more sheepish. “I could still do that,” she says, slipping off the armrest and into your lap. You bite down on your own smile as she smears a kiss over your cheek. “I’ve got more cookies coming out in a few minutes, but aside from that brief interruption I’m all yours.” 

“More cookies?” you ask, leaning back to peer into the kitchen at the overflowing cooling racks. “How many are there going to be?” 

“You seemed very sad,” she reasons, stroking a piece of hair near your face. “It’s possible I may have overcompensated.”

[the-bitter-ocean]

ISAT BAD END THEATER AU NOTES/SUMMARY (MAJOR FULLGAME SPOILERS FOR BOTH BAD END THEATER, AND ISAT/ SASASAP) After a long time brainstorming with friends I present to you.. “THE BAD TIME THEATER AU”!

This au is mainly created by me and @coffeewolf54 / @coffeewolfart together! This is not a exact 1-1 au and will def have some unique stuff in here to better match the themes of isat and bad end theater!

I’ve talked about this Au with a lot of my friends on discord ( thank you @felikatze @daily-odile @tealgoat and everyone else who decided to draw art for /listen to me ramble about me and coffee’s au.)

The general gist of the story and everyone’s roles are under the cut:

|Welcome one and all esteemed guests to THE BAD TIME THEATER! A place home to many tragic tales on display for the world to see.|

|I am “TRAGEDY”- (aka the Playwright and Narrator). Alongside me is “COMEDY”- (aka The Director) to help showcase what our theatre has to offer to you all. |

|The premise is simple: You can choose between one of four actors to see their stories and it is our job to show you their fates! Don’t fret if you are unsatisfied with a particular ending, my dear Stardust and I can reset the stage anew! That being said every path often leads to tragic ends..but ah, what else can you expect from a place like this? |

|Even still..even now I wonder.. if this unlucky cast can be saved…|

|…Oh well. We should move on now~!|

|Without further ado… let’s meet the main cast! |

[ISABEAU: “THE HERO”] - A human. His role is the courageous defender that was appointed by the King himself with slaying monsters and protecting people. He is good friends with the Maiden and has been over the years questioning their role that’s been given to him. The Hero is fairly certain that he has never met any demons before personally but very adamant in the belief that not all demons would want to hurt others. (Though if he were being completely truthful he’d much rather be a fashion designer then have to fight anyone. )

{ MIRABELLE: “THE MAIDEN”} - A human. Her role is the faithful maiden who’s meant to passively fulfill her destiny of being martyr lest the town supposedly be at risk from being attacked or killed by evil monsters. She is good friends with the Hero and tries her best to be a devout follower. A huge fan of stories and curious to see if demons are anything like the tales she’s read in her books. ( Though if she were being honest… she has some doubts about her role in life and wants to take action. )

< ODILE: “THE OVERLORD”> - A half demon (half human). Her role is the (seemingly) cold and pragmatic ruler of the demons, gaining the title after her father recently passed away. She is described by other people as standoffish, she seems to have taken in the Underling and their older sister under her protection. Wary of humans and tends to lean towards keeping her subjects safe by having very little interactions with them. ( Though if she were to tell the truth, she admits to wanting to have a world where demons and humans can coexist peacefully.)

( BONNIE: “THE UNDERLING”) - A demon. Their role is to serve the Overlord and was tasked to help by providing support to their people by creating food for everyone. The underling and their older sister got saved by the overlord a long time ago- so they’ve been really loyal to her ever since then. ( Though if they were being honest, they want to help protect everyone like the Overlord does and not be forced to stay on the sidelines.)

and last but not least we have…

<̶̨̬͕̬̼̼̜̋̇ͅ|̶̧̢̧̛̻̘̱̲̠̓͆̒̓ ̵̰̤̦̥̰͒̾̌͗͗͋“̷̧̼̘̼̻̂́͜ͅT̵̡̤̳̯͍͓̅͂̌̋̅͒ͅḨ̵̡̱̺͍̰̞̅̆̎̀͜Ė̸̹̜͇̬̥̇͋̾̈́ ̶̺̭̀̅̅̀̍̊T̷̹̭̝̺̝̳̊R̶̗̱̹̙̍A̴̻͇̎̀̐̾̊̆̽͑V̴͚̫̦͚̅͂̈́̎͘͝E̴̦͋̈́̿̈́̑L̸̪̼̗̀̾̒͊̍͛Ĺ̸̮Ȩ̵̹͓̻͖̹̝̍͝ͅR̷̼̬̤̖̭͉̀̈̌͊̀͜͝”̸͎̘͆͊͜͝|̵̩͙͚̱̎̅͝>̶̳̬͙̫̘͈̆͐̍̓́̇͝- [??????? ERROR 404 DATA NOT FOUND]

|Huh? Oh my. Well, it seems like there’s been a mistake there! Pay no mind to that dear audience! We hope that you grow to love our actors as much as we do~! Let’s get the show on the road Stardust, we can’t keep our dear audience waiting any longer! |

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 34 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

In the giant walk-in closet John enlists your help in putting on a sharp black suit.You are supposed to be helping him with his buttons, but you just can’t stop kissing him while he stands before you like this, his tailored pants undone, his shirttails loose. '

His chest is a constellation of bruises, and you can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips to them. “Baby…” he sighs, his head tilted back for your ministrations, his long fingers sliding into your hair. “It’s ok. I’m ok. I’m used to this.”

Somehow, he knows there are tears in your eyes. He always knows. And even though you know what he says is technically true– you've seen his scars– it does not soothe you. 

“I just…don’t want you to be hurt anymore,” you say, perhaps stupidly. Yet the sentiment seems to move him, as he pulls you close with arms around your back.

“I feel pretty good, actually,” he says, a warmth in his eyes that quickens your heart. 

With your hands on his bare chest, you run your fingers over a nasty purpling bruise just below his collarbone. “I can’t fathom how that’s possible.”

Yet when he turns your face up to his with gentle fingers, the unsaid truth rings in the air between you. You stayed. It seems there are things he’s not willing to say aloud yet either. That’s fine. More than understandable. There is more important business you need to attend anyway…like staying alive. 

So when John begins to back you up with hands on your waist, pressing you into the wall, you aren’t proud of the ridiculous little sound that escapes you. It’s only been a week. You should not need him this much. 

But, you do. 

“John…” you scold, sounding utterly convincing as your eyes flutter closed, his lips on your neck. “You’re going to tear your stitches.”

“Then you’d better be gentle with me.” You can hear the smile in his words. 

“I thought you said we’re in a hurry…” you try again, even breathier than before. You’re trying to be gentle, but your hands wander on their own, around the gap in his waistband, your fingertips dipping in to find the firm curve of the top of his buttocks.  

He huffs with laughter against your skin, pressing you into the wall with his solid weight, the bulge of his manhood deliciously hard against you. “I’m not going to last long,” he admits, and you realize he is laughing at himself. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

I was right here.

You manage to restrain yourself from saying it, because you sense a sort of truce has arisen between the two of you that you do not want to shatter again. You realize that you’re not proud of how desperately you want to go back to the way they were before, when things were good between you. You want morning coffee, and dinners you cook together, and lovemaking on the couch in between reading a book. You just…want the locks on the doors open, is all. 

Is it really such an ask?

And maybe…no one breaking into the house trying to kill you both. That would be nice. 

You know there’s no dissuading him, when he’s in this mood. And…you don’t want him to stop, if you’re being completely honest. You’d be a liar, if you said the sight of him looking at you like this, expectant, vulnerable, his eyes filled with longing, after being without him for what ridiculously felt like an eternity, didn’t make your pussy pulse and ache, your clit singing to life.

You had since changed from your bloodied silk pajamas into a simple t-shirt and panties, unsure of what you were wearing for this mysterious location John intended to go. His fingertips tracing the outside of your thigh, up to the elastic over your hip, makes your flesh quiver. 

Those long, questing fingers push aside the thin barrier of fabric between your legs, finding you soaking wet for him already. It wins you a moan from deep in his throat; a sound that lifts every little hair on your body. You clench around his fingers, already on the edge of orgasm, your need for him is so sharp, so aching. 

“You missed me?” 

The answer seems so obvious, but the fragility in his tone ties up your heartstrings. No matter what he saw or heard in your week apart on his camera in the bedroom, he needs to hear it from you. 

“So much,” you admit, throwing your self-respect out the window, along with your sanity. 

“Mmm.” His forehead presses to yours, and there are questions you know you should ask him. Important ones. But your brain has stopped functioning, and he will not let you get away, with two fingers buried in your cunt and his thumb upon your sensitive clit, moving slowly back and forth. 

“Wait,” you keen, clenching upon those beautiful big fingers, but he only shakes his head, sucking delicately at the sensitive skin behind your ear. 

This was the last thing he needed to be doing. You needed to be taking care of him. But here he was, stubborn as ever, making you see stars. “Let me have it, y/n. Need to feel you cum for me.” He pins you with his penetrating dark eyes locked with yours, just as much as his large body caging you in and his hand upon you. His thumb presses down on your button, firm, knowing. Because you’re his, a little voice inside your head sings out, and the thought as much as his touch sends you careening over the edge, a ragged sound torn from your throat, your head rocking back into the wall. The crackling fury of the pleasure lifts you to your tiptoes, and he keeps touching you until you absolutely writhe with overstimulation, tugging at his wrist completely ineffectually. 

You feel his satisfied smile against your cheek, as the world returns into focus, and you can hear again past your heartbeat and your labored breathing. When at last you’re able to open your eyes you find him looking at you with that black-diamond glitter in his eyes, and a tenderness that nearly breaks you all over again. 

With your hand splayed on his chest you push gently. “Sit down,” you tell him, and he lifts one of those dark eyebrows at you. 

Even bruised and battered, a cut on his cheek and the bridge of his nose and a scrape on his chin, he’s so handsome it hurts. 

Once upon a time, he might have laughed at your command and continued to do exactly what he pleased with you. But tonight, maybe for the first time since you’ve met him, he actually does as he’s told, lowering himself to the padded bench in the center of the closet. It’s meant as a seat for putting on one’s shoes…but that’s not what you intend to do with it by half.

You brush his hair back gently, tracing the shell of his ear. His eyes slide closed, leaning into your touch, and there’s nothing you want more in that moment, than to make all his hurt go away. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

His eyes crack open minutely for you. “For what?” It’s as though he really can’t fathom what you mean. 

“For saving us.”

His eyes slide closed again, as though against some thought he cannot bear. “I was so afraid…” he admits. “That they would make their way up here to you.”

“But they didn’t,” you assure him, still sliding your fingers through his silky hair. “They didn’t stand a chance.”

He gives that bitter huff of laughter that makes him wince. “The last one might have…if not for you.”

“Mmm hmm.” You really don’t take killing a man so casually–but you are still numb, and John is the focus of your universe. Later it will all come crashing in. “See what a good team we make?” you ask, pulling your t-shirt over your head. He is eye-level with your bosom–he buries his face in your cleavage, resting his cheek in the mounded flesh of your breasts. The gesture seems more in the pursuit of comfort, than sex.

“Are you…suggesting we do things like this more often?” he quips into your cleavage.

“Just that you don’t lock me away again.” You realize how utterly batfuck insane this conversation would sound to an outsider. Maybe you really have lived in your own little world with John for too long, but it doesn’t matter to you. All that matters is the two of you, now, and you sense that maybe, just maybe on the horizon lays a glimpse of a possibility that maybe this thing between you could still arrive at a place where you could both be happy. 

“What a forward suggestion,” he deadpans. It takes you a moment to realize that he is, in fact, teasing you, in a way that suggests he knows that his behavior was not exactly kosher. He sighs, kissing the soft flesh of the top of your breast. Even after the bone-melting orgasm he just gave you, it makes a shiver roll down your spine. “I needed to think.” 

Your grip in his hair tightens as you remember the absolute agony you’d put yourself through, locked away for the week that felt infinite in its agony. You’re not sure what to say to that, that won’t immediately start a fight. 

Maybe he senses the spike in your pulse against his ear, because his hands glide up the curve of your back soothingly.

“And then…” he goes on. “I was…working on something. For you.”

This raises your eyebrows, and again you have to bite your tongue. Because you didn’t want more gifts, or surprises. All you’d wanted was him. 

You turn his face up to yours, catching his lips in a kiss that curls your bare toes. It wins you a moan from deep in his throat; a sound that lifts every little hair on your body. 

“John…” Your voice is hushed, hoarse, caught in your throat. “I would have preferred to just have you.”

He closes his eyes to that, as though you’ve bestowed some healing balm. 

“You’ve got me, baby. I’m sorry.” You feel like he means…for so much more than just your most recent stint in solitary. Your lip quivers, and now you are the one pressing your forehead to his, as though you can transfer your feelings to him through this touch. “I’m sorry you had to do…what you had to do. I never wanted to expose you to this part of my world. I thought I could make us a safe little oasis here…fucking christ was I wrong.”

“It’s going to be ok.”

Mostly, you even believe it.

He cranes his gaze up to you, and you see the doubt in his eyes. It breaks your heart all over again.

“You sound so certain.”

“I believe in you, John.”

Again, his lids slide closed, as though he just can’t absorb what you’ve said with eyes wide open. This man has been through Hell and back, and in this moment a ringing clarity settles over you. You resolve to do your best to carry him through this crisis, as best as you can. After you make it through–you’ll take care of yourself. You make yourself this promise–or tell yourself this lie–so that you can do what you need to do to help him survive. What will come after…you’ll worry about it when you get there.

If you get there.   

You start by sliding to your knees, and expressing your appreciation with your eager mouth on his torso, making your way to his beautiful cock. For once he lets you have your way with him, leaning back and enjoying your ministrations without bossing you once, moaning deliciously as you free him into your hand, and take his luscious tip into your mouth. His grasping hand in your hair sends thrills down your spine, a heady mix of triumph and adoration spreading like a warm drug through your veins, and you take him as far as you can into your mouth. 

He was right–he doesn’t last long at all.

***

You finally get around to helping John dress in a very sharp black suit, buttoning his shirt, threading his belt about his trim waist, and helping him affix various holsters for guns, ammo clips, and knives. It’s still distracting, having his body under your hands, even in the afterglow of your life-affirming midnight  delight. You keep kissing him between affixing his buttons, and he growls against your mouth in a way that raises every hair on your body, in the best way this time. “If we weren’t in such a hurry…” he tells you with that deliciously dangerous glint in his eye. 

“Behave,” you tell him, smoothing his lapels. You step back to take in the end result, sighing. “God, you look good.”

He lifts a cut-bisected eyebrow to that, amused. “I don’t look like a beat up old man?”

This again. You are going to lock that joke up in a box and keep it there. You’d only ever meant to tease him, not hurt him.  

“No. You look like a dark dream, and I want to fuck you silly all over again but we don’t have time. What the hell should I wear?”

He laughs at your obvious frustration, winces because it hurts him, and kisses you with toe-curling sweetness before helping you pick out an appropriate outfit for your destination. Dark pants, semi-sensible pumps, and a kevlar vest underneath your blouse. 

You are both dressed to the nines. 

You pack up the Rover with cases of your things. On your part, clothes so nice you never had occasion to actually wear them in the house. On John’s part, his bags are filled with as many guns as they are garments. Dog spreads out across the back seat like this is old hat, going on an adventure again.

It is with a surprising sadness that you pull out of the garage of the cabin manse in the Rover, watching it diminish in your rearview. That house has been your prison for months, and yet…there were so many good moments there too. You find you wouldn’t mind coming back, as long as the doors are not locked to you. 

You drive on the highway through the wee hours, until you reach the bridge, and the lights of what all you small town yokels call The Big City greet you. Towers of glittering lights, big water–and drivers who seem like they are bent on murder just as intently as reaching their destination. It’s easier somehow, to drive defensively behind the wheel of the Range Rover, rather than the few times you’ve done it in your tiny Toyota SUV.

You realize with some amusement that you don’t even know where your car is at the moment. It doesn’t really matter. 

You follow John’s directions through Manhattan, until you arrive at a unique sliver of a building that looks like new construction made to look old. You pull up for the valet, and follow John’s instructions of immediately standing on the first step of The Continental hotel. It’s like the safe base in a game of tag from hell, he’d told you.

You want to go to the passenger side to help John. However, he stands tall, moving better than he had at the house, barely showing sign of injury. You’re impressed until you see the tightness of pain at the corners of his eyes, then you realize he’s putting up a hell of a front. 

He’d warned you to show no weakness here. 

Don’t smile at anyone, or for God’s sakes I’ll have to fight off the whole fucking hotel. 

You think he was joking, but you take playing it cool seriously. In the Big Apple, you know everyone wants a bite out of you. You’ve got to be ready to bite back. 

John lets the red-suited and copiously tattooed bell boys get your bags, which tells you loads about how he’s really feeling. “Mr. Wick?” one of them dares address him. “We’d heard…you were dead?”

John just looks at the kid, not really smiling, but not brushing him off either. “Guess not,” he finally answers, and the boys all share a grin.

“Welcome back.”

John doesn’t exactly groan, but you read the weariness in his expression all too well.

“Thanks.”

John offers you his arm, and together you stride through the doors, Dog at your heels, feeling as though you are stepping through a time portal back into his old life.

At the front desk it feels like he’s speaking in code, so cordial and formulated it’s almost painful. After securing your room he asks, “Is the manager in?”

“He’s expecting you for breakfast on the rooftop, Mr. Wick.”

All you really want is to sleep, but you sense this too is part of some crucial ritual.

One of the bellboys takes your bags and dog up to your room.

John inclines his head to you to follow him. You walk at his side, trying not to gawk like a fucking tourist at the opulent Art Deco lobby, or the people who bustle through this waystation for the Underworld, even at this hour of the early morn. 

The people are interesting, to say the least. Some dressed as though ready for a board meeting, excluding their neck tattoos, and some as though ready for a posh punk concert.

You feel the eyes upon you, and you know it has more to do with the legend of the man who you are with, more than yourself.  

“Winston really outdid himself with the rebuild,” comments John once you are headed up in the elevator. He’d told you about how during their war with the High Table the original New York Continental had been destroyed. 

“Does it stand up to the old one?”

John sighs. “I think my sentimentality prevents me from giving that an honest answer. And…I’d hoped I’d never have to come back here.”

You nod, looking around. Even the doors have ornate Deco metalwork caging you in. “It all looks pretty fucking rad to me,” you say under your breath, pulling a small smile from the corner of John’s mouth.  

“I’ll be sure to tell Winston you said that.”

“Oh God.”

He laughs a little, and winces. Immediately you feel guilty. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he sighs, and as the door opens he leads you with a hand on the small of your back out onto the rooftop terrace of the New York Continental. Dawn is just breaking over the rooftops of Manhattan–the view from so high is breathtaking. 

Winston Scott is every bit the dapper gentleman you expected, after hearing John speak of him so many times. 

“Jonathan,” greets the manager with a handshake and a smile that seems to hold genuine warmth. “Always a pleasure, though I regret the circumstances.”

“Same,” answers Wick. 

“And who do you have here?”

“Winston, this is y/n. She’s my…” You turn your eyes up at John, curious just how he will choose to describe you. Girlfriend seems entirely too trite. Captive? Lover? John actually flashes a sheepish smile that lasts precisely half a second. “This is the light of my life.” 

The old man raises his eyebrows in a gesture of my my. You are surprised when Winston kisses your hand with old world grace, rather than shakes it. You hope it doesn’t show. “A pleasure, Miss y/n.” 

“Likewise, Mr. Scott.”

“Please, call me Winston. So, Jonathan. Just what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

John groans, and slowly lowers himself into a chair. You do the same, and the three of you hash out what happened, and how to go forward, over a delectable breakfast of crepes, fresh fruit, and good coffee. You feed Dog bites of bacon under the table, his block of a head resting on your thigh while you listen to these old veterans of the Underworld formulate a plan. 

You take some small comfort in the fact that Winston sounds so sure of himself. He seems to know a little bit about everything there is to know, and no tidbit of gossip surprises him. You can tell that John values his guidance, the older man speaking to John almost like a father. 

Just maybe the two of you will make it out of this alive after all.  

[anodymalion]

ok I am in fact using this as an excuse to make a long post about this thank you thank you asjksdjfaljdf

---

Interpreting Yuri as asexual is my very very favorite type of headcanon, which is one that 1. is compellingly coded in the source material (even if that wasn't the creator's intent), 2. is thematically relevant to what the piece of media is Trying To Do as a whole, and 3. just means a lot to me, personally, because I said so.

Coded in the source material

Yuri’s short program is “eros”, aka desire (you can interpret what “eros” means in various ways, but YOI itself explicitly refers to sexual love, at least in the English translations). Yuri struggles with this. Hard. He can’t come up with an answer when asked what eros means to him. His big revelatory moment about desire is that it’s how he feels about wanting to eat his favorite food (omg… boy). Even as the season goes on and the way he views the Eros program changes, the program doesn’t ever really embody the idea of eros as sexuality or romance (which was how the other characters expect him to interpret it) but rather as a desire to keep Victor in his life.

Like look. I’m obviously not going to say that the creator intended any kind of ace subtext to be there. I kind of doubt it was her intent. But goddamn is the subtext there.

2. Thematic relevance

The central theme throughout YOI is “love”, and especially loving people in a way that inspires you both to be your best selves: Yuri learning that the people in his life truly love and support him; Victor finding someone who makes him feel joy about skating again.

Like, Yuri’s whole skating theme for the Grand Prix is literally about him exploring what love looks like to him, even when it takes a form that other people don’t totally understand. Viewing all this through a lens of him being ace is really compelling. It adds depth to the idea of learning how to express the way you feel love even when it looks different than what other people expect. I think it’s a really delicious layer that adds even more nuance to what the show is getting at.

Besides, it’s an interesting way of viewing the criticism of the show that occurred for it not being 100% explicit about them being a couple (aka people getting mad because the kiss in ep 7 is blocked by Victor’s arm lmaooo). Like, ok, did you see the ending scene of ep 9? Did you see ep 10??? They definitely, definitely love each other, in whatever way that means for them. Their relationship takes a form that’s pretty different than the other way people in the show are going about romantic relationships, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real for them. That is very much in line with the main themes of the show.

3. Means a lot to me

In the final scene of the penultimate episode, Yuri tells Victor that they should end their coaching relationship after the Grand Prix ends. This is because he thinks he’s holding Victor back, that Victor would be happier being free to go back to skating on his own instead of being Yuri’s coach. When I watched this (and, I’ll be honest, this is completely me projecting here) I REALLY interpreted this as an ace thing. I think it’s pretty easy to internalize the idea when you’re asexual that you just won’t be… enough, for other people. In my case I ended up a strong impulse to self-sabotage relationships because I would rather be the one to end things than to let someone else tell me that who I am as a person is fundamentally lacking. Yuri destroying a connection he desperately wants because he thinks there’s something about him that is holding Victor back from a life he’d be truly happy with? Oh yeah. I can fucking relate to that.

Also: YOI came out in 2016, which was the absolute peak of hostility to ace people I was seeing on this site. It was bad here. At the same time Tumblr was going wild over this show. Everyone was watching it. Seeing a whole site of people absolutely adore a character I very deeply in my heart believed to be ace? Extremely vindicating.

---

In conclusion Yuri is asexual because it is fun and interesting that way, and also because of this:

[yuzukult]

untitled teaser | hvc & reader

title: currently untitled pairing: vernon x fem!reader/oc rating: rated m for final fic genre: angst, fluff, smut, wealthy!vernon, unrequited love!au (on both sides, it gets flipped lol... idk it's a confusing one) wc: 10k+ (ongoing) warnings: clubbing, adult themes, oc tries to seduce vernon lol, grinding...... idk just club things a/n: this is what i have been working on instead of actually finishing my own series HAHA i currently don't have a title but if you wanna give me some ideas lemme know ,,,, currently the doc title is "attention"

The burst of blackberry, a tart aroma with hints of bay leaves and cedarwood, has you intoxicated over his cologne alone. His slicked back chestnut brown hair, the calmness he exhibits, and his quiet, mysterious exterior is supposed to make him seem unnoticeable; yet for some reason, he’s always the most attention-grabbing in a room full of people.

Besides his handsome looks, he’s wealthy. The thickness of his bank account doesn’t present itself through his narrow, slim wallet, mostly because he doesn’t showcase the worth of his business unless it’s an obligation. He’s successful, yet remains humble about it; his clothes are made from the luxury brands without it embossed on the outer material, instead the names are stitched inside to keep himself modest. 

His car is the only thing that advertises the amount of digits that his business profits. The fastest, sleekest, and illustrious cars are the ones that he owns—from Corvettes to Teslas to Bentleys—he collects a plethora of them, those three barely denting all the marques, he finds himself indulging in that category and limits it to just that. Fine dining isn’t a necessity, but he does it for ventures required by his company. Expensive hotels and stays are just for comfort, but not something he needs, understanding that it’s more of a want if anything.

Hansol Vernon Chwe is just that guy.

Apart from all of that, Vernon is still an average person—other than the fact that you practically drool over the sight of him and he’s in the 1%. He’s sweet and kind, a general minimum trait that men should have, but he’s also good at overextending himself when people need him to. Last year, he hosted a gala for the Children with Cancer Foundation, earning more than enough donations and then on top of it matching the amount that was donated from others. 

Geez. Even your panties are getting drenched at the thought of him just busting out that fucking power move.

Unfortunately, as much as you boldly put yourself out there, Vernon is unavailable. Emotionally, probably, but mostly because he clearly states that you just… weren’t his type. You’re not a mirror of him; there’s never saccharine words that leave your lips unless it’s to seduce, donating to charities isn’t really on your list of priorities, and to be quite fair, you weren’t much of a charming go-getter as he is either. 

Opposites attract you’d try to justify, but to Vernon, that’s not enough.

Your gripe with Vernon isn’t because he rejected you—it’s that he rejects you but still likes to be… around you. When you’re out on Friday and Saturday nights, your mutual friends lead the group to hang, and when he hears your name included in the list of attendees, he’s there. Even after a long day of dealing with difficult people, you can expect to see Vernon there in his white dress shirt with the first couple buttons unraveled, resting on one of the couches at a table in the VIP lounge, legs parted in his trousers. 

He’s just sitting casually, but he looks like he owns the place.

“You sure you don’t wanna date?” you ask, lips almost brushing against his outer ear as he lets out a soft chuckle and brings his glass of whiskey on ice to his mouth. The music is loud, booming in the speakers of the dim club with strobe lights, making it hard to have any decent conversation but to be honest—who is even trying to talk here when their bodies should be?

“You’re pretty,” he admits, his chocolate swirls of eyes locking with yours. “And—I’m attracted to you. But for dating… you don’t really fit my criteria.” 

Criteria. He says it like he has a checklist for the girl he wants to date. 

Despite constantly hitting on him, you knew your limits for the night. Patting his clothed thigh with your manicured hands, you lean in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Okay, then I’ll leave you for the night. Maybe I’ll try again—but for now, I’m not gonna let today be ruined because Vernon Chwe said ‘no’ to me,” you smirk, pulling down the hem of your dress before standing up. Gesturing to a friend, she excitedly gets up from her seat before shuffling to you. “Let’s go dance!”

Vernon is a liar.

He likes you—a lot. The way you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as if he still can’t see how far your jaw drops when you’re cackling. His favorite view is when you’re just tipsy enough that your hooded eyes become more alluring, cheeks hot from the alcohol, and your words slurring with weighted truths to them. The last time you were drunk, you admitted that you wanted his dick in your mouth. Vulgar but… still honest.

Dating you meant drama—well, dating in general meant drama, and Vernon knows how you are. You’re not labeled a “drama queen” per se, but you are definitely quite the handful. He saw how defensive you got when a random guy at the club turned down your friend Sana because her nose was a little too big; those earrings were unlatched, dropped into Sana’s palms and somehow your shoe was in your hand, ready to swing.

Okay—he concedes. He kind of enjoys seeing you be like that.

Vernon is calm, cool, and collected. With you being the opposite, he’s not sure if being with someone that intense is good for him. You’re not who people expect to stand by his side when he’s at a banquet or when he’s on those business trips—your party lifestyle reminds him of those people who don’t ever settle, live on breaking hearts, and he’s partially afraid he’ll just be another number on your list of another one you’ll hurt. 

Not to mention that he’s not entirely sure that you’re the type of girl his parents would like if they met you.

You’re entertaining, he’ll agree to that, but you're far from someone who could be his more. You’re aggressive, overly outspoken, and worst of all, you do weird things to him.

You’re the cause for his heart stuttering—he almost mistook it for a heart attack—and you’re the reason why he paces back and forth when he accidentally said something that was borderline offensive in the midst of vetoing the chance of ‘us’ yet again, concerned that those harsh words are why you don’t return his texts. Only then, he realizes you’ve napped through the afternoon and didn’t get a chance to check your phone. And even on those really arduous days where his clients tend to be a little more finicky than usual, you still manage to make him laugh and feel the burden lift from his shoulders. How are you able to do those things to him without much of an effort?

Yet, at the same time, you’re also the pounds of stress that replaces the burden. 

Especially at times like these.

There’s a lot of things about you that he likes, but one of the things he doesn’t like is how quick you're on your feet when he turns you down. It barely takes minutes or even seconds after he says ‘you’re not my type’ before you down a couple shots and head to the dance floor with your ass against some other guy’s crotch.

“Oh,” Vernon’s friend, Mingyu, sings in amusement. “She’s dancing with Minghao.”

Vernon furrows his brows. Who the fuck is Minghao? Not all the words that pour in his thoughts spill from his tongue. “Minghao?” 

Mingyu nods, mid sip of his cognac. Cognac isn’t much different from whiskey, as much as people think—the only thing disparate between the two is that cognac derives from grapes and whiskey comes from grains. Vernon just prefers his whiskey over cognac; he can’t actually tell them apart, but he just… favors the one more than the other.

“Yeah, Xu Minghao. Heard he fucks… like well.”

Vernon scoffs. “… He fucks. Like well?”

Mingyu nods, lips pulling into a straight line as he swirls the drink in his hand. The condensation falls, dripping onto the fabric of his jeans but he could care less, especially when his own girlfriend is on the dance floor beside you, who wasn’t Vernon’s own. “Yeah, my girl heard from a couple of her friends that he’s good with his hips.”

With a quirked brow, Vernon licks his teeth. “You sure that it’s not your girlfriend’s experience we’re talking about here?”

Mingyu narrows his gaze. “Don’t play. Just ‘cause the one you’ve been eyeing suddenly captured Minghao’s attention doesn’t mean that you can jab me like that. Least I can commit.”

Puffing up his cheeks, he doesn’t even bother turning to look at Mingyu when he throws his sharp response. Nothing can avert his attention away from you, especially when you’re fixated on Minghao, your hand atop his as his own rests against your hips with your back pressed against his chest. Is this what you’re into? Some guy with blue hair, similar to the label on a Dasani water bottle or marginal Sonic the Hedgehog? 

“I don’t have commitment issues,” he counters through his gritted teeth. When did he clench his jaw so tightly, and why does he feel his fist balling up? You’re not his, after all, and yet he’s acting like you are. 

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

Vernon doesn’t even think. It’s out of character for him—what he often does is plan out his moves before making them. When it came to work or even what he wanted to meal prep for the rest of this week, Vernon always thought things through. Vacation? He’s already got an agenda. Dinner with friends? He’s got reservations at four different restaurants. Just pick one.

But you? You drive him absolutely insane. He can’t predict anything with you, and he doesn’t have a plan on what to do with you. 

Before you know it, he’s on the dance floor—an unfamiliar place for him because Vernon isn’t the type to bust a move even when he’s intoxicated but tonight, he’s a bit offbeat. Maybe he had too much of the whiskey, or maybe he caught some secondhand smoke from the guy taking a puff of a joint but nonetheless, he’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist and tugging you into him.

“What—”

“I don’t like you rubbing up against him.”

Mouth slightly agape, you step back from him. “Okay, and? You're not my boyfriend.”

He sucks in his cheeks irritably. He knew rejecting you would eventually bite him in the ass. “I just don’t like it.”

“You don’t get to tell me what you like and don’t like,” you retort, rolling your eyes before pushing your hair back. “Now if you would excuse me, I’m going back to Minghao.” But before you could get away, Vernon pulls you back. The impact of your cheek against his chest is a harsh one—but not… a bad one.

It… kind of turns you on? 

But you’re not gonna let him know that.

He exhales out a deep breath. “Okay, then fine. Be my girlfriend.”

You choke on your spit. 

“Wh-What?”

ok the end lets hope i finish this one and that it's a banger

[luniarix]

FAVORITE FOLLOWER

ᥫ᭡synopsis : you have a mysterious follower who has been swiping up on your stories to flirt with you, and when you finally stop hesitating to reply back, he’s quick to make sure he sweeps you off your feet. if you let him, of course.

ᥫ᭡NOTE : the texts are a bit cut off, and i rlly don’t know how to fix it since it’s an app thing so :’))) (and don’t mind the dates on the texts(´；ω；`) it was too much of a hassle to change em LMAO) but just know that toji is complimenting you in each text you sexies <333

CW : fem!reader, chubby!reader, shy!reader, fluff, flirting, gentleman!toji, biker!toji, reader being an overthinker, slight angst (reader’s inner thoughts), talks of insecurity and reassurance, long distance!au, texting!au (with some cheesy texts), toji pining after u first o(｀ω´ )o, the bff is up to interpretation of your own gals :-)

a prequel to *⁀➷ 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜

“did he swipe up again?” your best friend asks, taking a bite out of the fruit bowl she was indulging in. you chew on your bottom lip, a way to try and suppress your lingering smile as you glance at her. “uh—yeah.” you breathlessly say, staring at the dms between you and another user.

toji was his name. you knew that much by his user and the way friends addressed him in the comments. he was a mysterious person, because although he posted himself, it was never much of his face. he was a biker, and he’d usually post the late night drives he went on. so that means, his helmet was all you could usually see.

but oh god, even if he didn’t show his face, everything else about him was so sexy. you just knew that he was so, so handsome. your best friend never fails to mention that huge possibility when the topic of toji himself is brought up—and intrigues you even more about who he really is.

“what’d he text you?” your friend asks, raising a brow as she sees the way you’re trying to hide the growing smile as you’re staring at your phone screen. you clear your throat, trying to act nonchalant. “nothing, he just said that i look pretty from my story.” she stares at you with a knowing look.

“let me see.” she gets up to walk over to you, curiosity and excitement written all over her face. you bashfully hesitate to show her your screen, but when you do—she’s practically geeking.

“girl why haven’t you replied to him yet?!”she scrolls up to see that he’s been consistently replying to your stories for a while, and you’re looking away from her piercing stare.

“2 and a half months of him flirting in your dms? and you’ve only been liking his texts?babes c’mon!! you should answer him!” your friend playfully hits her hips with yours and you groan. “well i would but—but i just haven’t had the courage to.” you place your head down, folding your arms under your head as support. your friend scoots closer towards you and places your phone right beside your elbow.

“just start by responding to his most recent flirty text to the picture you posted the other day.” you raise your head up again and grab your phone, glancing at your friend anxiously. she winks back at you in reassurance. you huff and slowly straighten your back, staring at your screen as you try to think of how to finally respond to him.

spring had just started rolling around, and the picture you posted on your story was of you in a long sleeve body con dress. you didn’t look anywhere near extravagant, as it was simply supposed to be an outfit out for a arcade night with your friends. but the way toji complimented you, you might as well have been wearing a dress to some gala.

he always had a formal way of complimenting— and if you were being honest, you liked it so much more than what men were complimenting you with.

u fine asf. u send? and yo u sexy, let me hit pls aren’t exactly what a girl wants to hear as a conversation starter.

you suck in your bottom lip, chewing on the soft skin as you begin to type. you wanted to respond at one point, but with how highly he praised you, you shied away from flirting back as you felt a bit intimidated by him— more so because he was so mysterious and the way he carried himself was intriguing. you wanted to get to know him, truly.

but if you didn’t live up to what he was expecting? if you end up making him pull away somehow? if he wanted more than you could give? if you weren’t enough?

the overwhelming thoughts of overthinking chipped away at your eagerness to reply back, and so you’ve been putting it off. but with the push of your friend, you decide that it’s time to finally pull up those big girl panties and text the man that has been complimenting you in ways that has you swooning over and over again.

you decided that it’d be best to respond with a simple thank you, as you were still nervous as to how to start a conversation with him.

you stare at the screen as you groan, cringing at your own texts as you believed that maybe you should’ve said something different. you began to debate if you should just delete the text and say something else, but the more you thought about it the more you got into your own head. it wasn’t until you see the words “seen” under your texts that you begin freaking out.

“oh my god he’s texting—what the fuck!!” you panicked as you threw your phone across the table and began to fan yourself. your friend stares at you before cracking up, grabbing your phone as she hears a ding. “he texted you back already? girl he want you so bad. hurry up and reply!” she tosses your phone back to you, and you groan as you try to calm your nerves.

this was so stupid, it’s not like this was the first time someone was sliding up your dms—but it was different with him. toji was someone who you’d started crushing on the first time he swiped up. so like, freaking out was a normal reaction no?

“hurry up and check what he said!!” your friend ushers you while laughing to turn your phone back on as you playfully swat her away. you go back to instagram, and you can’t help but get flushed all over again.

you wince in shame. of course he would ask you as soon as you replied back—after all, you did keep him hanging for 2 and a half months while he was basically flirting with the wall in your dms. but he can’t blame you! you liked all of his texts, and you were just too shy (more like hesitant) to respond back until now! he’ll understand, right?

you sigh at the utter arrogance of that thought process. but you had to be honest with him, you knew that. but starting off a conversation in which you explained your insecurities and overthinking with him wasn’t a good first impression for yourself for a man that could blossom into someone more than a stranger—so you decided to give him a short yet truthful answer.

maybe, if (when) you two had the chance to grow into something more in the future, you would answer him in full.

if you were being honest, it’s quite endearing to know that toji’s clearly been waiting for your responses, and he’s now typing back. you tug at your oversized shirt as you let out a sigh of relief.

it was an exhale that you didn’t even know you were holding in.

you softly laugh at your silly overthinking, realizing how much you let the thoughts consume you that you hadn’t even given yourself the chance to get to know toji.

it seemed frightening the longer you pondered the interaction, and you probably should’ve done this a while ago.

after all, the things that frighten us within our minds tend to be less scarier when we’re actually faced with them.

“so how’s the convo with mysterious biker going?” your friend's soft-spoken voice brings you out of your inner monologue. you turn your body slightly towards her as you place your phone down to calm your nerves. they were good nerves, though. you were excited to finally get to talk to him.

a small but glowing smile forms on your lips as you prop your elbows on the table, resting your chin on your palms. "it's going good—and we're getting towards an actual conversation." your friend doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle with giddiness, and she grins at you. “okay girl, see—i told you you should’ve texted him way sooner.” she gives you a pointed stare and you avert your gaze embarrassedly.

“i know,” you sheepishly shrug your shoulders, grabbing your phone again to look at what toji said. “i might have been holding myself back from letting him in—even if it was for just a moment.” you admit, words slowly dying out as you stare at your screen.

oh my. did he just call you mamas? and he’s been wanting to get to know you? he’s been wanting you? this whole time?

you almost let out a loud squeal, but you cover it up by keeping your fist near your mouth, muffling the giddy noise you made. was it even possible to fold this fast in a conversation? because surely, you knew by now that you didn’t want to stop here.

you almost didn’t even notice the change of texting toji had because of how exhilarated you felt, but you found it so cute as you believed it to be him getting more comfortable with you.

oh, you should’ve—really should’ve—talked to him much sooner. but you shouldn’t dwell on it anymore, as you still ended up talking to him. you begin to type, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re grinning, and your head in cloud 9.

“so,” your friend starts, having you turn your attention to her once again. "i see that you and toji are hitting it off pretty well, huh?" she raises her brows at you teasingly. you laugh, nodding your head in response.

“yeah… i—” you cut yourself off, trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words. “i thought that it would be really intimidating if i ever talked to him, but i realized that i was just… afraid, i guess?” you timidly shrug your shoulders, because admitting how you felt out loud made you realize how trivial your hesitation actually was.

“now you know, hm?” your friend gives you a warm smile, knowing that the realization had hit you. she doesn’t tease you about it, nor does she make any more comments besides that.

no one should be forced to step out of their comfort zone if they aren't ready to do so anyway.

you give her a toothy-grin, nodding energetically. you were ecstatic—to say the least. “i’m not sure where this’ll go but i really want to take that leap—he’s super sweet and so cute.” your friend whistles in agreement. “look at what he’s said then!”

and so you do.

a sudden surge of warmth blooms and spreads throughout your chest, reaching up your neck and spreading across your face. you were warm, but it (mostly) wasn’t because you were swooning for toji once again—it was because you felt like this was the start of something new.

you had a gut feeling that this was going to be a long, and most definitely exciting new journey. and this time; you weren’t hesitant.

feel free to leave ideas in my inbox or a comment ♡ if i made any grammar mistakes that i missed, lmk! and thank u so much for reading (●´ω｀●)

[thebeastofblackmoor]

fair warning, I’m going to go full negative here, so beware if you don’t want to read KEY criticism.

I think Nancy’s new voice actress is bad.

I don’t mean I don’t like how unfamiliar she is, I don’t mean I just want Lani back. I mean I think she is not doing a good job as a voice actress. I’m not trying to attack her or anything, I’m trying to make an honest criticism about her performance, which I think is fair to do. I wanted to like her and I thought maybe she was just given bad direction in MID, but so far in KEY, her voice just grates me.

She often emphasizes words in a way that feels wrong or just forced/fake, something you see a lot in child actors but that I can’t really excuse in a lead adult voice actor. She always sounds one-note and bored, which voice actors never should—much less voice actors in a kids game that’s supposed to be exciting and suspenseful.

I’m not pretending Lani was perfect; Her was correct that she didn’t sound like a teenager, and I know sometimes she also emphasized the wrong words, but her voice at least had a distinctive sound and a lively, bright quality that made Nancy unique and kept me from literally falling asleep during dialogue 😬😬😬

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi since ur request is open 👀I would like to request Eddie X wife reader since it’s mother day . Maybe Eddie has a surprise for the reader for mother day and he really show how much he appreciates her . And even uncle Wayne is willing to babysit their child .

Aww, this idea sounds so cute! Thanks so much for the request, lovely!

husband!Eddie x wife!reader

You and Eddie had been been married together for four years, but this was your first Mother’s Day celebrating as a mother after you had your daughter, Charlotte and Eddie had insisted on making it perfect for you. You had just gone back to work and were exhausted with having to take care of a baby on top of it, so Eddie had planned a date for the two of you to show you how much he appreciated you as his wife and the mother to his child.

Wayne had insisted on watching Charlotte while the two of you spent some much needed time by yourselves. Eddie had planned for the two of you to watch your favorite movie while you snuggled up on the couch with an array of all of your favorite snacks. He didn’t think it was nearly what you had deserved, but you had been so tired that he thought that it was something you were going to enjoy.

When Eddie had told you what you were going to do to celebrate, you almost cried, feeling so grateful that he somehow knew exactly what you wanted. You knew he was going to plan something, but were wanting it to be low key and that was exactly what he had come up with. Sometimes you were convinced he could read your mind.

“What movie were you thinking, lovely?” Eddie asked as you looked over the collection the two of you had accumulated over the years. It was a mix of your collections and some you had bought together.

You were torn between a rom com and a thriller but ended up choosing the rom com because you needed something like for the mood you were in.

“10 Things I Hate About You?”

“Pick whatever you want, hon. It’s your day.” Eddie secretly wanted you to pick that one because he loved when you told him he looked like Heath Ledger.

You popped the VHS into the VCR and settled onto the couch, snuggling into Eddie’s side as the movie played. You had both seen the movie so many times that you always ended up quoting it to each other when your favorite lines came up.

Eddie turned to you while you quoted yet another line and couldn’t help but fall even more in love with you than he already had. You were so beautiful and sweet and kind that it was hard for him not to. He couldn’t believe that you had agreed to go out with him so many years ago and had stuck by his side ever since. He really was one lucky man.

“What?” You asked, turning to him, even though you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Just like looking at you.”

“Aww, Eds, I like looking at you too.” You leaned towards him and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before snuggling even further into him.

As much as you liked spending time alone with Eddie, you had to admit that it felt odd not having to listen out for a baby’s cry. And if you were being honest, you actually missed it. You missed rocking Charlotte back to sleep and feeling her head rest against your shoulder while you did it.

You turned to Eddie once again, not really enjoying the movie anymore since you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. You wondered if he would be okay with cutting your date short to go pick your daughter up. Maybe you weren’t ready to be alone just yet.

“What is it, honey?” His arm that was wrapped around your shoulders gave one of them a squeeze.

“I miss her.” You hated sounding like a clingy mother, but you couldn’t help it. You just missed your baby and thought you deserved to hold her with it being Mother’s Day and all.

“You want to go pick her up, don’t you?” Eddie really could read your mind.

“I guess I really am that mom, huh?”

“So what? I want to see her too.” That made you feel a lot better hearing him admit that. It made you feel less alone.

“You do?”

“Of course. I just really need to hold her.” The way he said the words was so soft and gentle and it warmed your heart. It had only been a few months and the girl already had him wrapped around his finger.

“I’ll go get her from Wayne’s.” He stood up from the couch and you couldn’t help but fall even more in love with Eddie. So grateful to have him as a husband and the father to your child. He was everything you could have hoped to have in a partner and you couldn’t believe he was all yours.

“Are you sure?” You tried to stand up too, but he just pushed you back down.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Your job is to just sit here and look pretty. You’re not lifting a finger today, alright?” He pressed a kiss to your waiting lips then grabbed his car keys before heading out the door to go pick up your daughter for some much needed snuggles.

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 7: Have a Cow

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are finding your stride until a surprise shows up on the porch

Word count: 2,750

Content/warnings: Light mob themes, farming, kissing, lap sitting, fluffy fluff

Author’s Note: It’s been a minute! Hopefully this kickstarts me to get a couple more chapters out soon. Please enjoy, be sure to drop any feedback, I love hearing from you!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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You sighed as you walked into one of your barns tucked toward the back of the property, recently transformed into what looked almost looked like a city loft apartment to accommodate for Bucky’s workers on the farm. You were carrying produce crates and one of Bucky’s henchmen, Peter, came to take them from your hands.

Ever since Bucky’s construction crew has been working in the mines, most of the food that you would normally be selling at the farmer’s market has been going to them. That makes it easy for you, though. A few of them have even been around the fields helping out to pick it themselves, too, giving you a little more time to sort through documents, contracts, and future plans, without having to stay up late like your normally would to fit in all the work.

All the men had been a great help, and exceptionally respectful, which surprised you. Sure, you expected them to be formal and well-behaved, but their actions seemed almost rehearsed, like they had been told exactly what to do. Peter, probably the one kid who you had taken a liking to, was the only one who would really hold conversations with you, though. You assumed part of it was due to his status in Bucky’s organization. He was young, but extremely smart, earning him a spot of minor authority. Although every time he opened his mouth, you were never quite sure what would come out. It could either be something honest and profound, or a weird nervous babble. Sweet kid, though, so no harm done. He was like the best parts of Jake and Curtis at that age.

As you handed the crate over, you looked around at the high ceilings, now lined with bulb lights and the cool tones that decorated the previously wood-heavy space. “I’ve always wanted a barndiminium, just never had an excuse to make it.”

Peter added your box to the stack in what appeared to be a makeshift kitchenette. No way they had time to hook up appliances and water lines already, right? “I know our men seem pretty gruff, but if there’s one thing they like, it’s comfort and luxury where they lay their heads.”

You laughed and nodded your head. Just like their boss, although he didn’t seem to complain as much anymore, laying on sheets that were probably about as old as him.

Peter continued shifting crates around, unloading certain items likely for whatever meal they had planned next once the next round of workers got off their shift. “And of course, boss wouldn’t want anything less than the best when it comes to you. Says this’ll increase the property value. And it’s all yours to enjoy as you please when we’re gone.”

Ah, there it was. The kinda thing Bucky wouldn’t say to your face, but Peter’s lips let slip like it was nothing. Like it was obvious. You tried to change the subject, unsure if you could confront those types of feelings to Peter when you hadn’t even built up the courage to discuss them with Bucky yet. You knew Bucky cared about quality, and had a little understanding of the extent he was willing to go for you. But you didn’t even want to think about a time when Bucky could be gone.

“Don’t you need permits for this stuff?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you won’t. Plus, I’m sure the higher ups worked their smooth talking magic and their connections. They’re amazing with things like that.”

You hummed in agreement. You had seen and heard first-hand how effortlessly Bucky could have something done for him. The world was at his fingertips. Surely that rule stood true for most people around him.

“Don’t I know, Peter. But I’m sure you’ve got your own charms. Some of your own connections that Buck doesn’t.”

He gave you a sheepish smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess, sort of. But I’m not sure how much they’d really put me in charge of that stuff. Sometimes I just freeze up when I have to tell them things instead of them telling me what to do…I just get so flustered around Mr. Barnes.”

You nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I’d say they trust you a lot for you to be in control of as much as you are right now. They definitely see through your nervousness. You’re doing a great job and I really appreciate you discretion and assistance around here.”

He gave you a soft smile. “Oh..wow, thanks.”

You nodded and turned on the newly laid floor, ready to head back to the house to continue your paperwork.

The mid-morning sun was at your back as you made your way inside towards the office. You were almost never inside at this time of day, so it was a wonderful pocket of time to be productive. You were greeted by Bucky sitting in your chair, shuffling though papers while he was on a phone call. He drew his gaze from the fan of parchment in front of him, smiling when he saw your face.

“Yeah, just keep an eye on her and increase security all around. Overlap shifts and monitor cameras 24/7. Thanks, Steve. Bye.”

You smiled as Bucky set the phone down. You had never heard him thank anyone before. As you took another step closer, though, you saw which papers he was looking through. Your own smile fell to see the contract from Cole for the hundredth time. Why was Bucky able to be so happy when this attempt at a forceful ‘offer’ was in front of him?

“C’mere, Honey.” Bucky gestured for you to come sit with him on your chair, but instead, you opted to take a seat opposite him, in front of your desk. There was work to be done and you couldn’t let yourself get distracted, even if he seemed oddly at ease.

You watched as his previously carefree gaze scrunched in on itself, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and lips in a slight pout. As you plopped down in the old cushion, you crossed your arms and legs.

“Bucket, I’m doing this for the good of both of us. Talk business with me first, then we can discuss…accessory ventures.”

You nodded in gesture to the papers, hoping he’d explain why this all needed to be looked over again. Was it not enough that it was constantly running through your mind? You had the power to just say ‘no,’ as long as Cole didn’t keep pushing or have anything over your head, but things were never that easy, so what was really going on?

“Honey, come on. We’ve got a little time to be close. This way we don’t have to flip papers back and forth to read them.” His voice had softened from his phone call, nearly reaching a whine.

“James…” oh, you weren’t messing around. You were taking this seriously. “I can read upside down. It’s fine. Just talk me through what’s going through your head.”

He sighed and his chin met his chest in defeat. “Ever since Curtis messaged me that Cole tried to get into the bar and Lloyd had been with him, I just want to be extra cautious, which is why I’m going through these. Again. I’ve already sent them to my lawyer in the city, so he’ll confirm for me.”

You nodded and stood up, finally walking over to him. “So is this what you’re really worried about? What’s not in the contracts, but real-life threats?”

You walked around your desk, hips swerving to miss the corners as you finally stood in front of Bucky. He swiveled the chair so you stood between his legs and threw his forehead against your stomach. You held him close and stroked his hair before he moved to look up at you, resting his chin on your sternum and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Yeah. I’m worried about you. And what’ll come when I have to leave. And just how involved Lloyd may be. I know I already told you about him, but I don’t think words can describe how much he truly doesn’t subscribe to caring for the well-being of others when they stand in his way. I know this is all that Cole has sent so far, but if Lloyd has anything to say about it, this won’t be the last push, but it’ll certainly be the nicest.”

You nodded down to him before gesturing for him to sit up so you could straddle his lap in the oversized leather chair. You held the sides of his face before leaning your forehead against his. You did your best to speak in a firm, yet placating tone.

“Jamie. I promise, I’m going to be fine. I was fine before you and I can take care of myself when you’re gone.”

He closed his eyes and sighed again. “I know, I know. But I just made the command to keep Peter here with you. He’s an extra precaution. You’ll barely notice him, and I’m sure having the help will be nice.”

You pulled away to smile and roll your eyes. “Bucky, he’s a kid. What’s he gonna do that I can’t? Plus, you know I like him. The last thing I would want is him putting himself in harm’s way for my sake.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, you know how capable he is. If I can see it, I know you sensed it from a mile away. He stays at least until it all blows over. Everyone is willing to do what is necessary to protect you. It’s what they signed on for.”

You knew that Bucky wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so instead, you simply kissed his temple and wrapped your arms around him, nestling against his neck. “Okay, fine. But he’s gonna become the buffest farmer you’ve ever seen when he comes back to you. I’m burning all his little suits. You’ll only ever see him in strictly flannel.”

Bucky let out a light chuckle as he rubbed your back, sitting in the chair and enjoying the moment with you before you mumbled against his neck in question.

“So you wanna tell me what Jake was really doing here? And what you did to make him into the same guy he used to be?”

Bucky hummed in thought at your question. He wasn’t quite sure if honesty was the best way to go here. Sure, you knew that everyone who knew about the mines had to come into town, but why have Jake help? And why didn’t Bucky hate him as much as you’d anticipated?

Bucky clicked his tongue before deciding on the diplomatic answer. “I just reminded him of his place and how valuable you are. Not much more than that. He’s smart if you direct the way he needs to think. I mean, he’s half the reason you’re in this mess, but he could help us get out if we do it right.”

“Yeah, okay Mr. Politician. Whatever you say. Just make sure you restock my duct tape. I’ve been running low lately and I’m not sure how that happened.” Bucky froze as you laughed at the reaction. Dang, he should’ve told the truth. You wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t already know, you were just giving him the opportunity to let you in. Noted.

The rest of the week on the farm was fairly easy as you and Bucky worked in tandem, sporadically getting updates on the mine reinforcements and spells of assistance from his men.

But otherwise, you got along well. Bucky was truly learning the farm chores and operations, catching on quicker than you had anticipated. He only ran the tractor into one ditch and his boots hadn’t gotten stuck in mud at all. Now you were helping, or at least trying to help, him reach mastery in what you thought he would’ve caught onto easily: barking orders.

The two of you were out in the pasture, as you finally taught him how to use your sheep and cattle dogs. Sure, they were practically self-sufficient, but sneaky little things sometimes with their own agendas. Bucky, in an attempt to boast about all the independent work he had done the previous week, revealed himself for the actual issues he had experienced with them, obviously not unbeknownst to you.

After a long day of running around and nearly a week since hearing anything from Cole, you and Bucky were spent, walking back up to your house to have a nice night in, just sitting on the porch and enjoying the peace. As you got closer, though, you could hardly make out a small brown blob waiting there next to one of the posts. Was it a package? You hadn’t ordered any new equipment lately….and then it moved.

You threw an arm out in front of Bucky, both of you stopping stark in your tracks.

“Wait. Hold on. You see that?”

Bucky grabbed your arm close to his chest when you stopped, leaning over it and squinting until it became clear. What was that doing on your porch?

The two of you cautiously kept walking towards it, finally deciphering what you were looking at: a brown, fluffy, baby… highland cow?

You could hear it moo more and more the closer you got, eventually seeing it tied to one of the porch posts with a rope and a ribbon around its neck: both Turner’s blue.

You walked up to the calf cautiously, holding out a hand and cooing at it to ease its evidently nervous state.

“Shhh, shhhh, hey there little thing. What are you doing up here?” Sure, you owned a plethora of livestock, but none of these. This was, for lack of a better term, a house cow. Something Decks had begged you to get for years, but you never had the need or the time for.

You pet the tuft of hair on top of its head as you squatted down, grabbing the piece of card stock attached to the ribbon before looking up over your shoulder at Bucky. You could already see the anger rising in his eyes and seeping through the rest of his demeanor, fists clenched and body rigid as he nodded for you to read.

“Peach, take a taste of what success could be. Here, have a cow. -Cole. P.S. all in good faith”

Oh, Bucky was gonna have a cow, alright. You rolled your eyes at another ridiculous note. This was very evidently not a dairy cow from his stock, so you weren’t sure why Cole was trying to pull one over on you by claiming it was. And he didn’t even leave it with any feed or water for who knows how long it had been there up until this point. The main question was: why didn’t Bucky’s men intercept? You guessed they were probably under specific instructions not to, as to keep a low profile.

When you looked back up at him, Bucky was already on the phone. Even before you had gotten to the porch, he had sent a message to Peter to check the cams and make sure no one had lingered on the property after the delivery. This new development instantly put him on high alert.

He held the phone to his ear now, though, as it rang only twice before you heard someone on the other side pick up. “Hey Barber, I know you’re busy with that other stuff I sent you, but what do you know about corporate gifting policies?”

Meanwhile, you had untied the poor baby from the post and scooped it up, carrying it inside and to the kitchen while Bucky slumped into the couch. You gave the calf—at least it was a girl capable of producing milk and not a boy-which you definitely would’ve roasted Cole for—some water before taking her over to the couch and setting her down next to Bucky. You ran your knuckles against his temple in a soothing stroke before petting through his hair and giving him a kiss on his hairline. When you pulled away, thumb moving to stroke his cheek, you mouthed ‘it’ll be okay,’ only seeing his jaw unclench slightly at the reassurance. You moved to sit on the couch on the other side of the calf and criss-crossed your legs, petting her and listening to Bucky’s lawyer walking him through corporate gifting laws, now on speaker.

Next >

Bonus A/N: highland cows are so cute. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been sent a video of one getting a little spa day🥰

Series Taglist: @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch

[babymochibeargyu]

I Want Beom but I Got a Gyu

POV: bf gyu acting goofy for you everytime he notices your camera

wc:819

You don’t know how he does it. It was like he had a camera detector just for you. 

Gyu was picky about how his pictures would turn up on other people's phones. So he would always make sure to look his best when he saw someone sneaking a pic of him. You will never catch him lacking in any of the stranger's pictures of him. 

It couldn’t be helped though. He was one out of five of the most handsome people at your school, and that meant that people would be sneaking pics here and there.

When it comes to you, all you want is how Gyu poses for these random strangers. All prim and poise, handsome side profile, and all that good stuff that others get. 

However, all he ever does is make funny faces at your camera. Every time you think you have caught him off guard and it’s finally time you got a good shot of him,

BAM! Faster than lighting, mans had already spotted you from afar. Somehow even though you thought you were quick when you clicked capture, the result was still the same. Utter failure, goofy Gyu:100 | Y/N: 0 

I mean it had its perks. You thought it was cute. Having pictures of your bf that no one else had. It was like he was purposely doing this to you so that you could have a collection of silly Gyus on your phone. 

But enough is enough. You just wanted some decent photos of your bf too, was that too much to ask? And that was how you ended up at his locker.

As he walked out of class, he had a glimpse of you at his locker. Gyu immediately ran up to you like a little puppy and gave you a big hug.

“What are you doing here” he asked. You could hear the excitement in his voice. 

“I gotta talk to you about something. Let’s go back to my house.” When you said that, Gyu was kinda scared.

‘Is she gonna break up with me?’ he thought to himself. 

This wasn’t the first time that Gyu had been to your house. He has been here almost every weekend because he enjoys your company and wants to spend as much time as he can together with you.

He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t nervous because you sounded so serious earlier that it gave him goosebumps.

Y’all never really fought throughout your entire relationship either and he wishes for it to stay that way. 

You didn’t know how to bring up what you wanted to say. To be honest you hate confrontations and this was something that you’ve never done before. It was always Gyu who had driven the daily convos between the both of you. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” you heard Gyu speak up. 

“I don’t know how to say this without it sounding silly.”

The suspense was killing him, you could see on Gyu’s face he was pleading for you to tell him now.

You finally muster up the courage, hoping that he won’t get mad at you for what you are about to say.

“Why is it that every time I try to take a good picture of you like everyone else, you always give me a goofy Gyu… I want handsome Beom pics like everyone else too.” you pouted.

Gyu was stunned because he never realized that he had done that. It was probably because his inner child felt so at peace whenever you were around, and that’s how all the goofy Gyu pics happened. 

“I’m sorry Y/N. But I didn’t realize I’d been doing that. I guess my body just feels so relaxed whenever I see you, that my inner child takes over without me noticing. I swear I didn't do anything on purpose to irritate you. If it made you feel that way I'm truly sorry."As Gyu was saying this, you could see tears already forming in his eyes. 

Now that you knew the actual reason, any ounce of irritation you felt for him disappeared. You took him into your embrace, wrapping him up in a tight hug. 

This was nice. Your warm embrace mixed with the familiar scent of his favorite perfume that he loved on you. 

Why didn't we do this more often? We should do it more. Gyu thought to himself. 

After you felt that he had calmed down, you looked up at Gyu while still embracing him. 

"So could I get my overdue handsome Beom pics now?" you said shyly. Like who wouldn't be shy asking your handsome bf to act like a model just so that you could take photos of him? 

"As long as it's for you, I can do anything that you want me to Y/N." and gives you a quick peck on the lips. 

"Let's get started shall we"Beom said. 

End~

Got really inspired when i saw goofy gyu and ended up making a Gyu board hehe.If yall have anything you want me to write about do lmk in the comments or the ask me anything bar!!Do give me a follow if you’ve been enjoying these hehe!! see yall in the next one🥹🫶🏻🤍

taglist: @moagyuu @heyanonymous123

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Furia

Chapter Twenty Three

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Isaac/Tamara,

Word Count: 1780

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, the thing is they hurt each other a lot, most of the time without meaning to.

A/N: We pick up right where we left off. Trouble tries to get ready to go out on tour, Dean sets off alarms.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t fair, you were not being fair. But that didn’t change that sick feeling crawling up your throat. Face burning, you looked at Dean who was pointedly not looking at you. You counted the deep breaths he took, his nostrils flared less the longer you sat in suffocating silence.

You should have said something.

You had no idea how to take it back. It wasn’t even what you said, it was how you said it, so derisively.

You wanted to disappear.

The traffic on the freeway only seemed to get worse the longer you sat. It had been a good day, even with Dean’s snippiness over the Rolling Stone article. Why did you have to open your big mouth?!

You bit the inside of your cheek, you were not going to cry. You knew how guys felt about girls crying, it’s a cop out, or a pathetic ‘get out of jail free’ card. Despite knowing girls usually cried out of frustration rather than actual sadness. You didn’t want to come off as pandering or fucking weak.

“Look—- I don’t want to make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But, we’ve all seen how well the press and the fans have responded to you two. Is this something I need to put the brakes on? Because I need to know before we start touring.”

Dean huffed. “It’s fine—- it’s not about Bela, okay? It was just an honest question.”

You waited because it felt like he had more to say. You owed it to him to let him say his piece.

He let out a self deprecating chuckle. “You really think it’s just because I’m a horndog, I’d want out?”

“Dean— I didn’t mean it like that, I—”

“No, you did. You were very clear. I just gotta know, Y/N, is there no other reason you can think of for me to want out than some easy lay?”

He wasn’t even pretending to keep his eyes on the road anymore. His jaw was tight and his eyes were dark and glossy and every hope you’d ever had fluttered in your stomach.

You were supposed to say something back.

But you had already said too much.

You couldn’t lose him over something as avoidable as a misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t— nu-uh, that’s not what I asked. I don’t want your apology, here, okay? Just—- tell me there’s something else that could get me out of this without being the bad guy.”

It hurt to look at him. 

But God was it even harder to look away.

“I can talk to Crowley— work out a timeline if you want?”

Dean shook his head, looked to the ceiling of the impala, and exhaled deeply. “No—- we’re good. But if you ever think of an answer. I want to hear you say it.”

You looked down at your lap, your phone case biting into your palm where you squeezed it. 

“I don’t know what you’re fishing for, Dean. I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologize, but I feel like I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth tonight.”

“It’s okay, Trouble. No hard feelings. Promise.”

You looked up to make sure he wasn’t still pissed.

“Seriously?”

Dean’s mouth twitched with a ghost of a smile. “Seriously.”

It wasn’t until you were safe and distracted with drinks and everyone else at Elizabeth’s that you realized Dean had called you by your real name. You couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

No one really talks about the non-glamourous tasks required before going on tour. Especially not the ones that have nothing to do with the music and everything to do with leaving your home for months on end. Your personal to-do list always fell by the wayside when it came to the band, but you were running out of time on it now. In less than 48 hours, the opening act would take the stage. 

And three days after that you would officially be on the road, for nearly six months straight. 

You shoved a quart of half-eaten fried rice into a garbage bag and moved onto the vegetable drawer. Cleaning out the fridge didn’t take very long, but going through your pantry was a nightmare. When did you even buy half of this shit?! The cans would last, but a lot of the boxed stuff was already halfway to expiring so you set them aside to drop off somewhere over the next couple of days. 

Then you wiped everything down.

By the time the kitchen surfaces were done, you were sweaty and gross. But you had too much momentum to stop there. You swept and mopped the floor. You took a breath and pushed on. Later that evening while taking out the trash, your neighbor, Isaac, waved at you over the half-fence.

“Getting ready to get back on the road then?” His accent was pleasant as ever.

You sighed and blew a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. “Getting there. I never understand how much I need to clean with it just being me. But here I am, like usual.”

He poked at some meat on the grill as he made conversation. “Tam said we’re due over tomorrow to go over things before you leave?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, anytime after you both get home from work is fine, I’ll just be forcing myself to actually pack at that point. I really appreciate you guys looking over the place.”

“It’s nothing really. Plus you more than compensate us for it, love.”

“I know, but still.” You looked down at your dust streaked tshirt and ratty sweats and decided you had been out in the world long enough looking like that. “Alright, I better get back inside. See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

“TTFN!”

You smiled to yourself as you stepped back inside through the side door. You were so lucky to have good neighbors, especially with the way your job worked. Dean had told you all about Tamara and Isaac before you moved in, making sure you knew everything from the seriousness of not asking about kids to the humor of not insulting classic Doctor Who.

When Dean remembered, he’d still meet Isaac at one of the few English style pubs for a football match every now and again.

And they didn’t seem to mind housesitting for you whenever you needed.

The smell of the dry rub from Isaac’s grill haunted you as you went back into your clean, yet emptied out kitchen. It just meant another night of delivery was in your future.

You woke up grumpy from an incessant buzzing coming from your phone. The first notification was from Twitter and you opened it without checking anything else.

Ugh, okay, fine. Dean dropped Bela off late last night. You weren’t too worried about it. So you tried to go back to sleep. But a nagging feeling in the back of your mind kept prodding the possibilities into your thoughts.

Before jumping to any conclusions, you got out of bed and started a pot of coffee.

There had been a lot of little things you had to ignore in the day-to-day of being the band’s publicist, and even more you had to try and bury as their friend. Cas’ penchant for banging journalists was one of the ongoing thorns in your side. And of course all of Lee and Pamela’s on-again-off-again nonsense came up more than was even happening. But Dean knew how to leave a hook up. He also knew when he was being tailed. 

This entire headline smelled fishy.

You bit your lip and opened your contacts. It was still too early for a business call, especially since you knew he was out until after bar close, but you couldn’t wait any longer for answers.

The phone rang in your ear and you silently begged your coffee pot to brew faster. Dean answered just before it would have sent you to his voicemail.

“I’m up— where’s the fire?” Dean mumbled into the microphone.

Without any preamble, you started in on the questions. “Have you seen the latest? People are up in arms over you squealing out of Bela’s driveway this morning. What happened?” 

“Uh, hold on,” Dean must have moved the phone or covered the mouthpiece because you could hear his voice rumbling, but couldn’t make out a single thing he said. Then came a bunch of muted background noises and a door opening and closing. “Okay, wanna run that past me again? Slower and without the accusatory tone— it’s not even fucking nine am, Trouble.”

Your suspicions continued to rise. “Where are you?”

“In a hallway.”

Not ‘the’ hallway, not ‘my’ hallway, an unspecified singular hallway.

“Dean—”

“Look. The paps were fucking vultures last night, I caught one of them trying to lowjack Baby. So, I ditched her, and Sam got her back home safe. I circled back after I knew they’d scattered and I stayed put. There’s nothing to worry about. Just people trying to make me look bad for being too smart for their slimy ways.”

Your brain hissed like a television left between channels, not a signal coming or going in either direction.

“You’re at Bela’s.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yep.”

Your business brain rebooted, slowly.

“Trouble?”

You called him, you should have said something already. “Okay, so, uh, I guess just make sure to leave publicly. Or go out for breakfast or something. Just don’t leave it how they’re spinning it.”

Dean huffed. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

“Tomorrow is the morning show interview, you said you’d pick me up? Is that still gonna happen or should I just get an Uber? I’ll just call an Uber.”

“I mean, yeah, gotta be home to drag Sam with anyway. So you don’t gotta. We’ll be there with bells on right at five.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“I should go—”

“Right, of course. Bye.”

“Talk to you later.”

You hung up and your coffee pot finally whistled, signaling it had completed brewing.

You moved through your morning routine in a fog. Even when Bela posted a gorgeous fruit plate between matching mimosas sometime before noon, you only gave it a heart and moved on to folding your next load of laundry. Once you let yourself look at what was happening, you gave into the anger. You screamed into an old hoodie until you were hoarse.

Dean was actually sleeping with Bela.

Your two best friends were fucking.

The same best friends you had set up to help make your job easier.

What the fuck was your life?

And how the hell were you supposed to pretend any of this was okay?!

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

[clemblog]

Caine’s Lesson - Part 8

•

A few days had passed, Gummigoo having spent said days slowly chipping away at a pistol for Poms! It was sleek and a lot smaller than what he was used to, perfectly weighted to the sizing of Poms hands! He grinned as he gave it a final check over.

"Nice one Gummi, another perfect piece, just like Pa taught you!" He hummed happily to himself, leaning to pick up a paint brush from his tool kit to write Poms name on it. That way anyone would know from a first glance that it was hers.

He took a few moments to careful write 'Pommy' in curly writing to go along with the rest of the style of the weapon.

Now, all he had to do was go pester his Ma and see if she had any spare holsters lying around!

"Maaaaaa?"

"Yes Gummigoo?"

"Ya got any old holsters lying around?"

"I'm not sure, we might! If you come stir this pot of soup for me, I can take a look!"

Gummigoo hummed at this, walking into the kitchen. He handed over the pistol to his Ma as he took the ladle from her.

"Ooh! What a beauty, my boy." She cooed, softly as she looked it over. "I'm sure we have a perfect holster for your friend Poms."

"Thanks Ma." Chuckled Gummigoo, stirring the soup his Ma was working on. If he had to guess it was most likely a gummy fish based stew.

A few moments later Ma walked back into the room, holding a ruby red leather holster in her hand.

"Oh! Ma, are you sure?" Spoke Gummigoo, eyes widening slightly.

"You know I don't shoot anymore Gum, besides I trust Poms. She seems like a fine young lady." Nodded Ma, gently placing the holstered pistol in his hands. "Now shoo! Out my kitchen, I got meals to cook."

Pomni was just relaxing in the barn, it was hot day today, so she didn't exactly feel like being out in the sun. She looked up when Gummigoo entered the barn, hands behind his back.

"O-Oh! Hey Gummigoo, what's that?"

"It's a surprise, for you Pommy~" He grinned. "Made it myself."

Pomni's eyes widened slightly as she looked over the item, taking it slowly from his hands.

"W-Wow- Gummigoo- I don't know what to say-" She eeked, slowly.

"How about whether or not you'll be joining me and the lads on our trip tomorrow~?"

"O-Oh absolutely!"

"Snazzy, I'll get Max and Chad to get you a ride before tomorrow-"

"Wait- Gummigoo, do you mean a horse-"

•

"So, Ragatha, you feeling any better?" Hummed Zooble, curiously.

"A little!" Smiled Ragatha, sheepishly. "I'm not really thinking of Pomni so much anymore- I'm still worried about her- But it's not like taking over my life- Like I’m still worried but I can do other things-“

“We got it Rags, don’t worry.” Mused Zooble.

“Y-Yeah! It’s nice to hear you’re feeling better.” Nodded Gangle in agreement. She was still drawing, but was now drawing things for herself or what she wanted to make or plan out. Apparently it was a break, but Ragatha didn’t really see that as a break in her honest opinion- Gangle was happy though, so she left it be!

It just meant she could start to theorise on what to make Gangle as a present!!

Truth be told, with everyone sat talking together, Caine having been absent from the circus for a week now. Jax was feeling rather… lonely. Even [————-] got lonely- But that was the downside of being, well an [—-]. Nobody stuck around much in situations like this.

So, he’d decided to get even more familiar with the circus, see if their where anymore secrets to find! They might be useful! You never know- You can never do enough slinking around!

He’d been walking around for a few minutes when he found a door he’d never seen before, it looked old and untouched. Except for the disturbed dust on the floor, indicating the door could in fact open.

“Hello door! You don’t mind if I-“ He hummed, opening it and stepping inside.

What Jax wasn’t expecting to find was Caine, however.

“Uh- Caine, buddy? I didn’t realise this was how I got to you-“

“JAX!” Exclaimed Caine with a large grin. “You made it just in time to go on your next adventure!”

“Oh an adventure? Finally~ Let me go get the others-“

“Nono, theirs no time! Off you go!”

Jax found himself being engulfed by a portal before he could get another word on.

“CAINE- HANG ON A [—————] SECOND-“

“I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR SOLO ADVENTURE JAX! PERFECTLY CURATED BY YOURS TRULY- NOW I MUST GO HYDRATE, YOU’VE GOTTA GO DO THAT MULTIPLE TIMES Y’KNOW-“

•

“Uh… Max- Chad- I don’t really know how to ride a horse-“

“Don’t worry! It’s easy as riding a bike!”

“Exactly!”

“Uhm… Okay-“

“You’ve got this!”

Max then proceeded to slap the butt of the horse, causing it to charge off with Pomni sat in the saddle.

“OH GOD- MAX- CHAD! HELP ME- STOP STOP STOP- SORRY- SORRY- HORSIE- PLEASE- SLOW DOWN- I DON’T KNOW HOW TO STEER YOU- IVE NEVER DRIVEN A HORSE BEFORE- UH- GUMMIGOO?! LOU?! MA?! ANYONE? MAXXXXX I DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP- CHAD PLEASE- PLEASEEEEEE- YOU GUYS ARE. THE. WORST. GUMMIGOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

That’s to say Gummigoo wouldn’t be leaving Pomni alone with Max and Chad again anytime soon. He took over Pomni’s riding lessons, and after a few laps of the field, Pomni was feeling a lot more confident with her new mare! She decided on naming her jingles. She was a very sweet blue and pink coloured gummy horse. The sweet girl was anxious just like her but she could run fast! Pomni had no doubt that the horse could help her travel and keep up with the trio of bandits on their next adventures!

This was nice, building up a home, some skills and a form of transportation. It helped make her feel more human.

Part 9

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know... (14/?)

Word Count: 3,013 Words

Rating: Explicit (SMUT)

Chapter 14

"I'm starving, darling

Let me put my lips to something

Let me wrap my teeth around the world

Start carving, darling

I wanna smell the dinner cooking

I wanna feel the edges start to burn..."

- Hozier

“Why was I dismissed!?” Alastor complained, wondering aloud – between breathy panting.

Lucifer panted with him, claws raking against bare skin. “Hm…probably because you succeeded at being a ‘total and complete ass’…

Alastor chuckled; and Lucifer silenced him with a rough kiss – his tongue pushing into his mouth.

They had returned to Alastor’s room, breaking back into the Sazerac that Alastor still had and possibly over-indulging themselves with it a bit…

Loosened up by the alcohol and still feeling giddy from each other’s morning antics; they found themselves wrapped together – naked in Alastor’s bed.

Alastor laid on his back, ears tilted; Lucifer stretched across him and kissing him with heated fervor. Feeling pleasantly buzzed from their drinking; they had gotten a little rough with each other. Alastor’s back was covered in bleeding scratches and cuts from Lucifer’s claws – streaks of stark red blood melting into the sheets. Vibrantly colored hickeys – one oozing and bleeding golden ichor where Alastor had inadvertently bit too deeply– peppered Lucifer’s neck.

Lucifer released Alastor’s mouth; moving down Alastor’s chest and teasing at a nipple with his tongue. Alastor tilted his head; his own tongue swiping wetly against Lucifer’s bleeding skin where the angel’s golden blood seeped from the healing punctures, just below the line of his jaw. Alastor groaned at the taste; pressing his face closer and softly sucking.

Sharply tilting his neck away from Alastor; Lucifer lifted his head.

“You keep doing that and I’ll never get you up. Now, please try to stay at least somewhat sober for me a little while longer…” He leant back down, taking a lick at Alastor’s nipple just as Alastor darted back in, nipping him sharply.

“Listen.” Lucifer grabbed him by the chin; pulling his face close to his. “Behave or I’ll put that mouth of yours to a better use.” He tilted his hip; pressing his erection into Alastor’s abdomen for emphasis.

“Can’t say that I have much experience in that…area. Might be better to explore that when I have more…self-restraint.” Alastor slid his tongue across pointed teeth; smiling wickedly.

“Wait. What?” Lucifer lifted himself up; stunned out of the mood.

“What, what?” Alastor tilted his head, uncomprehending Lucifer’s sudden change.

“You’ve really never sucked someone off?”    

“No…I can’t say that I have.” Alastor told him. “I’ve never really been on the giving or the receiving end of that particular…act.”

“WHAT!?” Lucifer sat up fully now, eyes wide in shock.

“I’m not understanding the significance to any of this.” Alastor told him, honestly.

“You’ve never engaged in fellatio!? Ever? Like…at all!?”

“No…is it so important that I have?” Alastor asked him, feeling a little annoyed now.

“I just – I…” Lucifer’s brain was short-circuiting. “Just…why!? Why haven’t you!?”

“It just always seemed….unnecessary.” Alastor tried to explain. “Also, it doesn’t strike me as something particularly hygienic.”

“Really…you’ll fuck me in the ass with your tongue but god-forbid you get a dick in the mouth.”

“I never said I wouldn’t, just that I never have…”

“Ok, we’re doing this. Right now.” Lucifer shifted himself, moving down.

“Whoa! Wait, hold on!”

“This will be better with you lying down, anyways. I don’t want you standing and then falling on me because it’s your first time and it’ll give me more leverage…”

Lucifer crawled himself between Alastor’s legs; his ears flattening as he looked away.

“Really, Lucifer…must we?”

Lucifer had laid himself down and was working on adjusting Alastor’s legs out of his way. He stopped what he was doing and looked seriously at Alastor:

“No. Absolutely not, if you’re really that uncomfortable by it. I’ll be honest, Al, not everyone enjoys this kind of oral stimulation, but….I’d like to try. I promise you, it’s something I really like doing and I really think you might find some real enjoyment from it yourself. I’ll stop anytime you tell me to or we can just forget the whole thing.” He waited; not moving until he knew what Alastor’s decision would be.

Sighing, Alastor lifted a hand – gesturing for him to proceed.

Lucifer gave him a small smirk before turning his attention fully toward his task.

Laying one hand to Alastor’s inner thigh; he took Alastor’s flaccid penis in the other, curling it to the side and began softly kissing at the soft and sliding skin.

Alastor took a deep breath; letting it out slowly – trying to imagine that he was anywhere but here. 

Lucifer worked all along his limp shaft, moving and curling it in the other direction as he softly kissed and nipped at the appendage.

Alastor was just thinking that: this might just be what it was all cracked up to be when Lucifer lifted the member; leaned in and took a deliberately slow and steady stroke of his tongue across the soft underside – going from base to tip.

Blood pooled deep in Alastor’s belly, sliding downward. A soft flush touching his face; his member now giving a soft twitch at the attention it was receiving.

Seemingly not noticing the change; Lucifer focused on what he was doing. Kneading the slowly firming muscle in his hand; he licked and lapped his tongue all along the base and worked his way upward – giving special attention to just at the tip of it before working his way back slowly downward.

Alastor’s heart rate climbed and he found a hitch in his breathing. He was very nearly erect now and he was just realizing he may have miscalculated the potentiality of this particular activity when Lucifer took him wholly and fully into his mouth.

A soft hiss of pleasure; and Alastor lifted his hips. Lucifer firmly pushed down on both inner thighs now; pressing him down – encouraging him to stay still. Alastor leaned back at the stimulation he was feeling; his flush deepening across his face and chest.

The warmth and sliding wetness that he was now feeling, up and down his length was…exquisite and he silently berated himself for having not considered it before.

Gentle vibrations sent tingles through his spine, and he realized that Lucifer was fucking laughing at him with his dick in his mouth…the King’s eyes glinting up at him with a coy grin spread into the corners of his face.

Oh, don’t get cocky you little piece of-

Lucifer pressed his teeth to Alastor’s sensitive skin and slowly slid himself down. Alastor threw his head back with a gasp and Lucifer’s soft chuckling continued. Pausing, Lucifer gently bit the swollen muscle – pressing it firmly between his teeth before sliding back upward. Without removing his mouth; Lucifer lifted his teeth and teased Alastor’s tip with his tongue – flicking and wrapping it all around the head of it and gently pressing it into the slit.

Alastor’s fingers were curling into the sheets; and he was squirming beneath Lucifer – wanting to thrust himself sharply upward.

Gripping Alastor by the base with one hand; Lucifer angled himself and Alastor’s penis so that he was moving his head up and down – pressing the head of the engorged and seeping appendage into the firm ribbed ridges at the roof of his mouth. An involuntary and lust-filled noise escaped Alastor and he felt himself tightening in Lucifer’s hand and mouth. He was shaking from the approaching climax and it was tightening his throat.

“Luci!” Alastor managed -  “I – I’m” Gasping.

Lucifer answered him by gripping him tighter; tilting his head and pressing his tongue firmly to the underpart of Alastor’s penis – pushing it tighter against this palate. He felt the member ready and threatening to release and he sucked softly – sending Alastor completely over the edge.

Cum rushed between his teeth, running over his tongue. Alastor made to pull away but Lucifer held him there; swallowing. As Alastor’s penis relaxed; Lucifer softly licked and sucked it clean before letting it go - limply - from his mouth.

Alastor was brilliantly flushed and sweating; eyes wide. His ears were making erratic movements and he was trembling slightly.

Lucifer propped up an elbow; smirking at him wickedly.

“Told you would like it.” He sang.

That…was… Alastor could not form the thoughts.

Lucifer laughed; sitting himself up now; his own erection standing at attention.

“And, I told you that I liked it.” He affirmed.

“Are you open to the idea of….reciprocation?” Alastor asked him.

“Of course.” Lucifer grinned at him.

“Edge of the bed, then.” Alastor told him, getting up and moving gingerly from off of the bed – feeling lightheaded.

Lucifer did as he was told and Alastor knelt down, facing him.

“Legs over my shoulders.” Alastor instructed.

Moving, Alastor helped him into position – sliding the King closer to him.

“Forgive me my…inexperience with this. You may instruct me if what I do is not to your liking.” Alastor told him, leaning in.

“Eh, it’s pretty straight forward.” Lucifer slid a hand through the soft hairs at the top of his head, leaning back.

“I like to think...that I’m a fast learner.” Alastor breathed against his skin; tilting Lucifer’s swollen member upward.

Lucifer was about to make some snarky comment when Alastor’s slick wet tongue slid between his balls; flicking them gently. His hand softly found Lucifer’s length; his thumb swirling pre-cum all along the tip of it.

“I-“ Lucifer’s breathing hitched sharply. “I didn’t teach you that.”

“Hmm….” Alastor pulled back slightly; his warm breath tickling Lucifer’s slick and heated skin. “I can also be quite creative…” He pressed his face in again; wrapping his long and lengthening tongue firmly around Lucifer’s base and squeezing.

Lucifer’s hip gave a sharp jut and he groaned softly.

Alastor’s smile widened at the response. Uncoiling and re-coiling his lengthening tongue; he twisted it around Lucifer’s shaft. Soft barbs from its slick surface pressed into the sensitive skin and stimulated Lucifer in a delicious way.

“Oh, fuck…Al…” His hand tightened in Alastor’s hair, forming a fist, claws digging into the mattress.

Alastor gently moved his head and his tongue; pushing and pulling Lucifer deeper and deeper into a heightened state of arousal.

Lucifer moaned with a whining and intense need and Alastor’s tail swished quickly back and forth at the sound of it.

Alastor felt himself slipping below some surface; falling into the depths of some new and exciting space. He was finding pleasure in satisfying the needs of his King; something he hadn’t fully discovered or considered in himself before. It both frightened and exhilarated him; the sheer intensity of it… He needed Lucifer to come apart at the seams… just for him.

Lucifer was shaking and sweating. Alastor tightened his tongue on the angel and slowly pulled Lucifer’s remarkable length into his mouth. Gently detaching the barbs from the skin; Alastor swirled his tongue all along the shaft and head in his mouth – groaning at the taste and feel of it.

Lucifer’s hips bucked beneath him and Alastor growled to him in an approving way. Lucifer bent himself backward; gasping at the overwhelming stimulation that he was feeling. The places that Alastor’s barbed tongue had been still sharply tingled and sent jolts of pleasure cascading all throughout his body.

Remembering just how Lucifer had done it; Alastor felt the King’s penis curve and tighten in his mouth. Softly, he began sucking and it wasn’t long before cum was filling up his mouth; sliding over his long and winding tongue.

Alastor released him and Lucifer fell back, gasping and shaking. The sinner watched him for a moment with heavy-lidded eyes before leaning and crawling over him; hovering just over his abdomen.

Lucifer; still gasping tilted his head – watching Alastor.

The demon grinned back at him wickedly before opening his mouth, tilting his tongue and letting a warm mixture of spit and cum dribble from his mouth and onto Lucifer’s belly.

“Your seed…my King.”

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

Later, Alastor had moved them to the bayou – wrapping them in shadows and setting them in a small grassy clearing. Lucifer dozed quietly against him; naked and covered by the blanket Alastor had summoned for both of them.

Alastor laid on his back; claws absently threading through the sleeping angel’s hair as he stared blankly into that otherworldly night sky, eyes lost in the far-off shine of twinkling stars and the soft dancing glow of fireflies.

Lucifer stirred and Alastor dropped his hand away; laying it across the King’s bare shoulder. Lucifer turned his head; looking up at the brilliant night sky with Alastor.

“You know…I wouldn’t be very opposed to loosening the…stringencies of our deal.” Alastor told him, quietly. “Make it so that you don’t have to receive a direct invitation from me or from Charlie just to be able to come to the hotel.”

Lucifer laughed lightly. “I appreciate the sentiment but it really wouldn’t make much of a difference…not with Lilith’s deal still in place.”

“I suppose…I shouldn’t find that too surprising, all things considered.” Alastor admitted.

“It’s a bit of a bitch…not really getting to ever go anywhere without someone calling on or needing me for something specific.”

“Surely, your deal with Lilith hasn’t been that restrictive; you always could-“ Lucifer looked at Alastor just then and Alastor suddenly realized…

“You…can’t go anywhere…”  Alastor’s eyes locking with Lucifer’s.

Lucifer shrugged. “Lilith’s deal prevents me from getting involved in the hotel or really anything that involves Hell with Heaven; her deal was specifically made to prevent me from making a mistake and letting anyone know what we were up to. I don’t think she fully intended it but the restrictions keep me from ever being able to leave my current place of residence unless I am specifically asked to leave by you or by Charlie.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, this new bit of information slowly soaking itself in.

 “It’s why I asked for Charlie to go speak with Adam for that initial meeting to begin with…and, it’s why I can only come and stay here if she - or you - needs or wants me to.” 

“Wait, so who’s ruling over all of Hell if you can’t actually ever leave?”

“Oh, I can leave if it’s absolutely necessary...there’s been a few times I’ve had to attend something having to do with the other seven deadly sins but, it can’t be just something on a whim and I’m still restricted by what I can say or do when I’m away…”

“That seems…terribly problematic for you.”

“It is…but, these things tend to happen when you’re a man with many chains.”

Alastor said nothing to this, but he wondered if this was Lucifer’s way of trying to get him to loosen the cards he himself was holding tightly to his chest: to reveal to him that, Alastor too, was caught in a web of binding links – holding him to multiple agreements; one most in particular, shackling him tightly to the one who currently held his soul. But then, Alastor realized; he more than likely was just feeling a bit paranoid.

 “I am sorry…that you’ve had to sacrifice so much.” Alastor told him.

Lucifer laughed.

“What?” Alastor demanded; agitated that Lucifer was finding humor in his rare moment of sincerity.

“If I’ve got you feeling sorry for me, then I truly am in a sad state.” His chuckling continued.

Alastor huffed at that; eyes trailing back to the stars.

Laughter still heavy in his voice, Lucifer asked him: “So…you’re officially and truly a cocksucker now. How does it feel?” He teased.

“Hm…the deflowerment wasn’t nearly as degrading or disappointing as I had imagined it could be.”

Lucifer snickered.

“How was my performance?”

“Oh, the deer can suck cock, believe you me.” Lucifer cackled and Alastor felt the corners of his smile twitching; threatening to crack open wider. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a fast learner, goddamn. I am curious to know though…” Lucifer tilted his head, watching Alastor’s response. “What got you into such a subspace?”

Alastor’s ears moved, tweaking slightly in his confusion. “I’m sorry, a what?”

“Subspace? A submissive headspace…?”

Alastor looked at him blankly.

Wow, he really has no idea…

“When you were…well…you kind of zoned out there for a minute.” Lucifer was trying to explain.

“Yes…I-“ Alastor’s ears leant back slightly and he felt a soft heat rising in his face, remembering. “I suppose I was enjoying myself...I thought that was normally your experience with it as well.”

“Mmm, not quite…” Lucifer was thinking. “I enjoy it, I really do but…” He frowned. He had never had to explain the basic concept of BDSM to someone before; and to someone like Alastor: older, a little set in his ways, touch-averse and only just beginning to explore and actually enjoy sex…it felt like it might be a delicate topic to broach.

Alastor patiently waited for him to continue, his curiosity more than just a little peaked.

“When you enter a subspace, you kind of feel like you’re going into a trance. It’s euphoric and an out-of-body type of feeling…” Lucifer explained. “Generally when you’re a submissive; you give up some level of…control to a partner. This can be anywhere from something as small as wanting to please that partner to involving something more…surrendering; like bondage or discipline. I’m sure you’ve heard of BDSM, what do you know about it?.”

“Chains, whips, and a lot of pain come to mind…can’t say I have much interest in delving into that territory much further.”

“Yeah, that’s generally the concept that’s portrayed with it but, like many things, there’s more to it than that.” Lucifer told him. “I’m not saying it’s something you definitely would be into, nor have I personally pursued a role in it with a full commitment …but, it could be worth exploring.”

“You’ve had experience with this…subspace, before?” Alastor asked him, wanting to understand this concept more.

“Oh, yes, I have.” Lucifer told him. “It takes a little more roleplaying to get me into the right mindset for it usually, but I’ve definitely experienced it. It’s…quite nice.”

“Hmm.” Alastor hummed agreeably, remembering that slow and pleasurable sinking feeling – consumed in a heated and lust-filled haze at the idea of being completely and sensuously subservient.

“Like I said.” Lucifer told him. “It could be worth exploring.”

[ornii]

I don't know if you write for her, but if you write for MJ from the MCU, what would it be like if she had a brother who didn't disappear in the blip, became a hero, and MJ finds out when he's injured one night and tries to help him with the hero stuff?

You’re worthy , Loser.

“Mister Jones, can you tell us the definition of Biometric identification?”

You looked up from the football plays you were trying to remember in the middle of class, everyone turned to you and expected an answer.

“Oh, yeah it’s the process of verifying a person's identity through their unique biological characteristics such as fingerprints, iris scans, facial recognition, and voiceprints.” You replied, actually surprising most. You went back to your plays as per usual. Football wasn’t a major factor in your life as you could go without it, but anything for a scholarship you thought. It just so happens that you’re really good at it. Class ended pretty normally and now you had to go find your Sister. Walking down the halls of Midtown High. You didn’t spot her usual spot to brood so you had an idea of where she would be; Detention.

Peering into the Class you saw the substitute and of course M.J doodling. You leaned in the doorway.

“Trouble again?” You joked, MJ turned to you, that clandestine face.

“No I just like to come here and, sketch people in crisis.” She eyes the Substitute teacher. You roll your eyes and lean forward.

“Well if you’re done making people’s lives much harder than they already are, we have to get home. You have a trip or whatever to prep for.” You turned and walked away, knowing MJ was reluctantly behind you.

“So, did you actually make any friends?” You asked, you couldn’t see it but you could almost hear her slouch when you said it.

“Why does it matter if I had friends to you exactly?” She asked you.

“Because good friends keep you from doing really dumb things. And when I graduate I want to make sure you have a few good ones.” You turned around, walking backwards. MJ always hated that you did it.

“I highly doubt I’d do something that bad, plus our “Social circles” if you can call it that are in completely different places. And can you stop walking backwards it’s weird.”

“It’s not weird, you’re just bad at it.” You said, you side stepped, avoiding a branch.

“How do you do that?”

“It’s about knowing where you’re gonna be.” You replied. “Hey.. did you see the new Thor Display? Apparently they found his broken hammer and put the pieces on display. You think if it was back together that I could lift it?” You asked, MJ smirked.

“You think you’re a god?”

“Well, no.. isn’t the point is that you’re worthy or something?” You asked, you turned back around as you saw your apartment complex. “I’m selfless i think?”

“If you have to think, probably not.” She replied, and you turned back to her.

“But you never answered, do you think I’m worthy?” You said, and for a moment, MJ was actually honest.

“Fine.. I think you’re worthy, because when dad left.. you turned into the dad I needed.” She admitted, when your father left it was, hard. You did what you had to do, being the dad MJ never had, you couldn’t leave your sister and mom to do this alone. You actually had to fight back tears slightly, you smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

“Thanks Michelle. I mean it.” You replied, and she shrugged. “Yeah, but don’t call me Michelle.”

“Walls came back up huh? Okay MJ.” You opened the door to your home and stepped in, to eerie silence. “Mom?” You asked, but heard nothing, it was odd, she’s usually here before you got home, you heard a sudden thud and turned around.

“Hey MJ—“ you spoke but the words failed to erupt, she was gone, missing. Dust flew out of the doorway as you saw her notebook on the ground. Obviously you were confused, you rushed out the house to see it was fear, terror around the block, around the city, the state… the world. You wished it was just some nightmare, but you never knew it was the last time you ever saw your sister.

It took a year for you to come to terms with it all, half other world’s population, gone. Standing in the school you stood at the trophy case, seeing the Award Michelle won at the Decathlon. She always had this spark about her, she acts like she didn’t care but she did. The rage and grief you felt slowly began to brew into a thunderstorm of what’s real and what’s not.

What’s real; is that you lost your family, to some entity you didn’t even know existed, and you can never exact your revenge.

What’s unreal; is that you’re going to let this ever happen again. With a punch of anger a storm brews, as you scream in anger and pain lightning slams into the earth, and the pieces of Thors hammer slowly levitate and slam together, a weapon reborn not from grief and hate, ready to protect the world so that this will never happen again, you were worthy.

Five Years pass, joining the remaining avengers to go back in time before The Events leading to the Snap. Once the infinity stones were taken from Thanos, Tony made the ultimate sacrifice, putting the life of the entire universe before his, and died a Hero.

Flying desperately though the air you almost forgot how to land, you hit the ground hard, hammer still in hand. You turned to the door and took a step towards it. It’s been years since you entered your family home, it was never the same. You stopped seeing the doorknob twist, you held for breath and waited in fear of what you were going to see, but it was all just in your mind.

MJ opened the door, a bit puzzled. She looked at you, obviously not understanding what’s going on.

“Why are you dressed like you’re going to Comic con?” She said, “You look.. older too.” She stepped down, looking at you like a stranger.

“What’s with the beard? And the hammer?” MJ opened her mouth to say something else but you hugged her tight. Overwhelmed with all of it, how happy you were couldn’t be put into words.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, you let MJ go, somehow not crushing her with your new godlike powers.

“So… it’s been five years.” You said, which made her raise an eyebrow. “Five?”

“Yeah.. you uh, died. A lot of people died, but you’re back now so… damn this is hard to explain.” You rubbed your face, exhausted, MJ saw the look on yours.

“Just, come inside, you can explain it to me at your pace.” She calmly takes your hand leading you in, you did look exhausted, and probably traumatized. Five years of fighting to get your family back.

In my opinion, you are worthy.

[sunflowerxthoughts]

Finally, here it is! The first date! Can be read as it’s own but highly recommend knowing the lore first. Thank you for the love this little blurb series is getting, sooo much more to come 💜

Eddie was coming to pick you up in the van with one big worry in his mind. You were perfect. Literal woman of his dreams. However, there is this nagging in his head, self doubt. Why would someone so fucking great date the resident freak of Hawkings?

It makes him want to turn arround. He is so torn. This is a one in a million chance, but can he promise something so precious won’t go unharmed? He was so hopelessly devoted to you yet he didn’t even know you that much. There was just something so enchanting.

When you open the door, smiling bashfully and looking so radiant, he feels like he has won the lotery. He understand right then and there that this is a chance he is not willing to miss on.

You are just as nervous. Letting Eddie in, it feels easy. He looks at you like he would never actually hurt, but you’ve learnt looks decive and you don’t know if can actually trust him not not break the heart you’ve put back together since you moved to the town.

“You look… wow.” He says, with his hand over his heart. “Sweetheart oh my god.”

“You look really good too, Eds.”

The drive to the dinner is far from quiet. Eddie is set on paying, having worked overtime dealing and at the mechanic’s, but still there is so much he can afford.

“I promise if you give me a chance, I’ll get you on nicer dates. I swear.”

“Eddie I couldn’t care less about money, honestly.”

The date goes smoothly, Eddie swoons as he hears you speak. You on the other hand are stunned. You thought the walls would be too much, yet with everything Eddie does, he chips at every brick, little by little.

Time ticks and you are both in his van, talking about life.

“So Wayne said something the other day. Something about your past.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much. That it wasn’t easy. That it was your story to tell.”

“Listen Eddie-“ you take a big breath, this is not first day material. “It’s hard. It’s not something I want to get into right now but I guess I must warn you.”

“Warn me? What?”

“It won’t be easy, Eddie. I come with baggage that I’ve learnt to mask. And I don’t want to get into… something, relationship or not, just to be left after because it gets too much.”

“I don’t understand, I don’t wanna leave.”

“All I’m saying is at some point it’ll be hard Eddie. I want to date you, I really do. Just being your friend would be great too because you have such a pure, beautiful light. But that is something I don’t have.” You look at him, hoping this is not scaring him. “I’m not saying you have to stay for the long run, we’ve only just met. I just need you to be honest with me. Because I can’t let the walls crumble again, Eddie. I need to know that things are okay, that you don’t feel like you have to run away.”

“I don’t think you will believe me right now, but I understand you. So much. I feel the walls, I know them all too well. I know I make everything lighthearted but this whole town hates me, sweetheart.”

“How could anyone hate you, Eddie?”

“That’s the thing, they do. They really do. I’ve spent all my life being made fun of. A freak. And then you come around and make me feel… human. Like I matter, like I don’t have to see life from an outside perspective. And it’s so fucking refreshing. So let me be that for you, I want to be that for you. I want to get to know you more. I need you to know I don’t see you as a challenge, I see you as someone worth getting to know. You don’t have to let your walls down right now, I get it. We can work each brick, little by little.”

The tension is high. Eddie wonders if he has just fucked up, while you wonder how you managed to be this lucky. It feels like luck. So you kiss him.

It’s tender and it’s sweet and you can feel Eddie melting onto the kiss. It doesn’t go any further than that. There’s a shyness to it, both of you just trying to memorize this on your brains.

“For the record, I do think you have a light. I think you are radiant. And you deserve to be taken care of, and cherished. And listen I don’t have much money, but I promise I’d give you the moon and stars if I could. I am full invested in this, in you. I’m not running away, not matter what.”

Original post Pt. 2 Pt. 3

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