#and seeing him in his children... well... how. fucking. PETTY.

[superconductivebean]

#560: Hogwarts Inquires - III

That's hit me.

MC was worried Solomon might turn her and Sebastian in to the Headmaster and they'd be expelled.

But what would Solomon's evidence be and why would Black ever care without any caught-on-scene for anything really, especially, when Solomon is easily annoyed by simply everything about his nephew.

Besides, even if he would have somehow convinced Black to look into the matter, who could guarantee him that his supposed wish to come true -- if we assume MC was right about him turning them in and that he wouldn't back down on his word (which I believe to be the actual truth, as Solomon was trying to put down / kill the both of them, MC and Sebastian, rather than to have them expelled or worse, sent to Azkaban; that's… the supposed sense of mercy this man has is absolutely vile).

But. Behind MC were Fig, as her mentor (and he would never let the opportunity of finishing his and Miriam's work slip away), also a person of trust to Black, and Sharp, as someone really worried about MC and who I think to be allied with Fig, therefore in the know to some great extent, and subsequently interested in keeping MC out of trouble, at least, of this particular sort, for Fig's sake.

Howevor, even if the toughest defense imaginable would be breached by sheer stubbornness of this man, even after a tactical retreat to Dinah&Matilda duo, what would be the evidence and why would Solomon be sure, that knowing his temper, whatever it was Sebastian took possession of was worth a legillimens from any investigator or, if Black wouldn't let anyone in, Sharp or Dinah.

You know. People who are entangled with Eleazar's inquiries about goblin activities and are likely in support of whatever party that fights goblins back. They wouldn't ever not to condemn the usage of Unforgivables, howevor, but would they cater to Solomon's vile wishes? Doubtful. They'd rather fight him off than let him do justice himself because killing someone for the sake of THEIR OWN good -- what really the fuck is wrong with you Solomon.

Back to evidence.

The Book could've easily be hidden by a third party.

The Relic, too.

But. If we're to jump forward to the dungeon, where it was already too late to change Sebastian's mind and Solomon came across The Evidence…

He destroyed the only evidence he had on them right away… The destruction of the Book would be the only a matter of Anne getting inside the dungeon and, enraged by the extent of it all and by how far Sebastian was ready to dwell, would have still casted Incendio.

The only solid ground would be the usage of Unforgivables. Which Black secretly or not so secretly do not condemn; he doesn't judge MC when she uses any of them in front of him. Meaning, Solomon's only option would be going straight to the Ministry, as Black would likely approve of that Imperio, but.

Given how reluctant was the Ministry. Given the fact Sebastian hadn't harmed anyone. Solomon doesn't have A N Y grounds to imprison him or convince anyone of Sebastian's danger to anyone. He doesn't have a chance on MC either, or he'd face Fig, who can contact the Minister directly at seemingly any time, and Sharp, likely being a man who might have a few things to say to anyone who're live in a disbelief of any cure existence and although it's not a crime, who're also induce that disbelief on unwilling or dependent others.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[youcancallmeelle]

Are we on the same side?

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI!!!)

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Separated husband!Joel Miller x wife!reader

Summary: Joel and you are trialling temporary separation due to repeated arguments with one another after nearly twenty years of marriage.

He returns to the marital home to do you a favour, flirting ensues and the sexual tension gets out of hand because of course it does.

You may need some clarification on what you are…

AO3

You put up the hearts, and I'll put up both my aces Not very far apart Still on different pages

Before having kids, you used to take every moment of your life for granted. 

You were just a kid yourself back then, when you had two babies with a boy who shared your class and you were so in love you couldn’t fathom a life without him. For years you were Mama, the person who fed them and changed them, bathed them and rocked them to sleep. You worked night shifts while the love of your life worked in the day, all so food could be put on the table and an apartment could be kept to keep you all warm and safe. It wasn’t until a few years ago when your kids gained their own independence that you slowly started to regain your own life back, now you were nearly forty and working a job that gave you more freedom even if the stress levels have gotten to you more than once and your marriage… well that’s a separate issue on its own. 

You’d spent the morning doing things you wanted to, thanking whoever that your kids were teenagers who could do their own breakfast and helped with chores without coaxing. You’ve been to pilates and the salon and had your infills done, your nails a glossy shade of pillar box red in an almond shape and your toes the same colour. You’d even managed to grab a Starbucks and sipped it languidly as you people watched from the safety of your car, enjoying your chosen playlist on Spotify without the bluetooth getting hijacked. The icing on the cake though? The fact you got to shower at home without someone barging in to ask for foundation or to borrow your strapless bra or your new Adidas Superstars. 

It’s mid way through Saturday afternoon that your relaxation comes skidding to a halt in the form of your jaded lover knocking heavily against the pane of glass on your front door, the irritating noise makes you scowl and you drag your feet to answer it. 

You crack it open, familiar brown eyes stare at you and yours narrow back. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask flatly, the male on the other side picks up on your terse mood and his shoulders rise defensively. If it wasn’t for the little disagreement you’d had a few days prior on the phone over something as mundane as renewing car insurance, you’d have probably been more excited to see him but the way he can sometimes undermine you really grates on your nerves, you hate that he gets so swept up in work that he comes home and talks to you like he’s your foreman. 

The minute he’d started questioning your choice like a fucking know it all, you’d merely hung up in irritation, refusing to answer when he’d called you back twice to apparently try and patch it over. You’d read the I’m sorry and I love you more than you’ll ever know text he sent after over and over, trying to figure out how things had come to this. 

Nearly two decades together, married, with children and a house. You and Joel Miller have been torn apart by too many petty arguments that end with you sobbing and him walking away, you’d had to call it and come up with a possible solution with the marriage counsellor before it was too late. 

He huffs and lifts his hand, showing you the toolbox you’ve seen many times with its contents strewn about somewhere in your house. 

“A little birdie told me that you’re in need of a repair.” Joel’s lip twists at the side when your mood seems to perk just a fraction, there’s multiple things that need a little TLC right now but he can certainly worm his way back into your good books with a good old fashioned repair. You can only assume the little birdie was Sarah or Ellie. 

You open the door fully and step backwards so all six foot something of him can meander through your front door, he wipes his feet on the welcome mat and toes his sneakers off, nudging them into the neat space where a tattered pair of Vans have been kicked off hard enough to scuff the wall and a pair of spotless ankle boots have been nicely placed beside your shoes. 

“Where’s the babies?” He frowns, looking around and noticing the lack of noise. 

You smile as you shut the door behind him as he refers to the girls as his babies, despite Sarah being eighteen and Ellie just turned fourteen. 

With them both being girls, he’s soft anyway but Sarah is his first born who made him a father and Ellie’s still his tiny baby who he’s soaked up every second of when she was a newborn because you both knew you weren’t having any more children.

“At the movies together watching Twisters, Garret backed out on Sarah so Ellie went instead.” You inform him, sneaking an appreciative glance from the corner of your eye. 

Joel makes a noise at the mention of Sarah’s boyfriend, never having liked him for whatever reason, you think it’s because they’re eerily alike so therefore clash. 

“Little prick will be back hangin’ around here next week.” He grumbles, placing his toolbox on the bottom step.  

“She’s just going through the universal thing of falling for a country boy.” You tease. 

“Well as long as he don’t get her pregnant before graduation then we won’t have a problem.”

“She’s smarter than us.” You say. 

“I know.” Joel agrees, you sneak one more glance at the country boy who got you pregnant before graduation. 

He’s wearing slim fitting black sweatpants with a worn grey t-shirt with a faded motif on, the chain of his St Christopher barely noticeable beneath it and his thick rimmed glasses are perched on his nose. 

You miss the hungry look he shoots you when you turn away, chestnut coloured eyes drifting low to the denim shorts you wear that he’s sure you’ve had since you were in your twenties. They fit snug and are contoured perfectly to the shape of your ass, your cheeks barely peeking out. What really makes his dick hard is the fact you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Dallas Cowboys one that you’ve always been particularly fond of. 

“Nice flowers. Who got ya those?” He nods with a smirk towards the vase on the side table that’s filled with blooming peonies and baby’s breath. 

The beautiful arrangement of flowers had arrived the morning after your petty argument with Joel, a gift from the universe if you will when you needed something bright and blooming to drag you out of the despair you were frantically becoming encased in. 

“Oh.” You hum and feign ignorance, reaching out to gently touch the edge of a baby pink peony. “Just a friend.” You smile vaguely, Joel rolls his eyes. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“A guy sent them?” He presses, shifting his weight, your grin turns devious. 

“Mmm.” You coo, feeling thrilled when that lick of annoyance flickers across your husband’s face at your flippant tone. 

“Who?” He grins back.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on, I just wanna talk to him, I wanna know why he thinks it’s okay to send my wife flowers.” 

“Ex wife.” You snort, Joel glares at you. 

“We’re separated, not divorced. Y’know what, we’re barely even separated.” He disagrees, you bite the inside of your cheek in amusement. 

“Apparently you’re here to fix my shelves and you’re doing a whole lot of yapping, very unprofessional of you.” You goad, stepping backwards when he begins to saunter towards you with a certain look in his eyes. 

“I’ll fix your shelves, I’ll fix anythin’ you want.” Joel mumbles, stalking you. 

“Big promises.” You taunt, lifting your chin defiantly. His hands grasp your waist, pulling you to him and you let him, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

You love this, the playful behaviour and flirting since you decided to live apart for a while. It feels new and exciting, a rush that you felt when you first got together as youngsters just before your world flipped and you were pregnant before your frontal lobe had developed. 

He smells delectable, you can’t stop yourself from nosing at his bearded jaw where his cologne is the strongest. Joel’s throat bobs, his fingers drift upwards under your borrowed sweatshirt to feel the bare skin between your shorts and bra. 

As his structured jaw slides across yours and his nose just barely brushes your own, you feel his breath hit your lips and you know he really wants to kiss you but is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You want to, you really do but you’re scared of falling into a false sense of security when you haven’t even scratched the surface of your underlying problems that the marriage counsellor suggested needed to be covered before you could get back on track. 

Joel enjoys the way your head fits against his collarbone, loves the sweet smell of your hair and skin. 

“Fix my shelf.” You huff into his skin as you retreat, he sighs deeply but picks up his toolbox and begins to follow you up the stairs with his eyes glued to your backside. 

It almost feels strange for Joel to be back in your shared bedroom after three weeks away, he hasn’t been back for any extra clothes or personal items. If he’s come over to see the kids, then he’s stayed downstairs or in the garden with them. 

Everything looks the same which is a strange observation given that really you’ve barely been apart for any time at all but it’s comforting to be back. 

The bed is made in its usual dress up of plain white sheets with useless throw pillows stacked neatly, there’s a pile of clean laundry resting on your vanity chair but also clothes tossed on the floor where you’ve been indecisive. 

Joel whistles when he sees the closet door open and the fallen shelf leaning against the door, there’s a scrape on the inside wall where it’s collided and taken the paint off. It looks like a fairly simple job, the wall plugs have probably come loose over time and needed replacing, it’s not as if IKEA is known for making indestructible furniture. 

“You want the step ladder?” You question as he surveys the situation, rubbing the wall with his fingertips to see if the scrape will alleviate some. 

“I think so.” He replies. “They in the garage?” 

“No, Ellie’s room, she was trying to hang some fairy lights earlier but only got halfway before she threw a fit about the command hooks.” You chuckle, wandering off to go retrieve them for him, already certain he’s made a note to finish the job for her before he leaves. 

When you get back, he’s got some tools ready, his drill in hand already. He steps onto the bottom rung of the step ladder, groaning as he stretches. 

You observe for a moment, knowing it irks him, he hates being watched on a job.

“Jesus, it’s fuckin’ dusty up here. You’re a terrible housewife, neglectin’ your duties.” Joel pokes, knowing you won’t take a blind bit of notice. 

“You wanna know why we really separated? Because you neglected your duties as a husband to satisfy your wife.” You reply easily, Joel chuckles and looks down at you. 

“Oh spare me the dramatics, you’ve never been unsatisfied by me in your whole entire life.” He sings, infuriatingly he isn’t wrong. 

“I’m telling the kids you were being sexist to me.” You threaten, chewing on a sinister smile. “Ellie will beat you up.” 

“She won’t.” Joel grins, you mumble out a complaint. “She’s a daddy’s girl, maybe try your luck with Sarah, I’m sure she’d give me a lecture.” Not that you think he needs one, he’s the biggest supporter of you and his girls. 

“They’re both Daddy’s girls, the little traitors. Nine whole months carrying them and giving birth after what felt like days and days with no fucking pain relief and this is the thanks I get? Not to mention my nipples being sucked raw.” You grumble to yourself, kicking some laundry into a pile at the side of the wall, Joel makes you jump when he groans suddenly.

“Just sayin’ but your tits were amazin’ when you were breastfeedin’ - shit, they’re still fucking phenomenal.” He sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you were so hot carryin’ my babies, I’d have kept you pregnant if I had my way.” 

You bite your cheeks to hide the satisfaction that your husband still wants you. 

“You can’t say stuff like that to me anymore.” 

“Why? We separated or somethin’?” Your husband frowns comically. “Show me your tits.” 

“No.” 

“Come on, just one.” He grins boyishly. “The right one is my favourite.” You stick your middle finger up at him.

“Asshole.” You sniff, walking back to lay on the end of your bed. 

You pick up your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook posts made by the PTA at the girls school while Joel complains about wall fixings or something equally as dull. 

In the end, you get bored and toss it away, instead opting to enjoy the eye candy in the form of a senior (essentially) gentleman on a stepladder cussing about how IKEA can suck his balls. 

“Piece of fuckin’ shit!” He complains when the shelf slips again in your closet, he takes a calming breath and contains his frustration, you snicker at him. “How did this even break, sweetheart?” Joel huffs, changing out for a larger wall plug. 

“Dunno, it just did.” You answer vaguely, looking at your ceiling.

“Bullshit.” He quips. “Did you put too much shit on it?” 

“No.” You hum, shaking your head. 

“You’re a liar.” He states plainly, equally unamused. “What did you put on here that was so heavy it collapsed?” 

“Nothing, maybe it was just your shoddy workmanship to begin with.” You quip, not looking at him though you desperately want to because you can imagine the outrage on his face but you won’t be able to not laugh. 

“It wasn’t me that put it up.” He glares. 

“Sure, whatever you say.” You smile sweetly at him. It’s quiet for a minute, then Joel speaks again. 

“You put filled shoeboxes up here, didn’t you? After I told you nothin’ heavier than a few sweaters? ” He asks knowingly. 

Silence and then… 

“Yeah.” You nod, he sighs loudly and turns back to drill in a screw now that he seems happy with the stability. 

You watch him as he works, angling himself to see better and be able to use his drill at the correct angle. 

The muscles in his back move and his shoulders look unbelievably broad beneath his t-shirt, it hugs his biceps and rides up when he shifts to show a slither of his boxers and bare back. 

Your mouth almost waters and you press your thighs together but it obscures your view so you part them again to peek at him through the gap in your knees. 

It’s well known that your husband is an attractive man, he always has been. You’ve watched him grow from the gangly teenager with a backwards baseball cap practically glued to his head you were first besotted with to the almost middle aged and greying man that now works before you. 

Most nights when it’s dark, quiet and the house is still, you pleasure yourself beneath the duvet thinking of him, hips moving frantically against the whir of your vibrator. It can be any scenario of the long time you’ve been together, two decades holds enough memories to fill books upon books with pictures and anecdotes, some that you keep stored away just for you. 

Sometimes you dream about the three day honeymoon in Nashville you had when your parents forced you to get married before Sarah was born, back when you first lived in Arlington in a shitty apartment you could barely afford with you both working instead of attending college. Then there was that night just under four years later with sex so explosive that you’d had the fleeting thought you’d immediately gotten pregnant again, only to actually find out you’d been right two weeks later when you’d presented Joel with yet another positive pregnancy test before twenty five. 

You chew your lip, lashes fluttering and you’re sure he notices you ogling him in the mirror that puts your reflection in his eye line by the smirk you see. 

God, he pisses you off so much sometimes. He makes your cunt wet and your teeth grind all at once, you never knew that was possible. 

Rolling off the bed and onto your feet, you casually turn so that your back is to him on the ladder but you’re in the perfect position in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t notice at first over the sound of the drilling but when it stops and he goes to test the stability of the shelf, he freezes and the arm holding his drill drops limply to his side. 

He sees you begin to strip down in the mirror, shimmying your shorts down and then yanking off your oversized sweater. Joel freezes, gulping when you turn away to unclip your bra, the expanse of your back is smooth and if he thought your backside looked good in those shorts, the high cut panties you’re wearing hit on a whole other level. 

“What are you doin’?” He asks when your fingers hook into the sides of your panties, they flex within the material and you peer over your shoulder at him, big doe eyes the opposite of fucking innocence. 

“Just taking a shower, I’m filthy.” You titter, holding his piercing gaze through the mirror. 

“Funny, you’ve done nothin’ but sit on your pretty little ass and watch me inhale dust that’s been here for the last fifteen years.” 

“Well, you could always join me.” You shrug, finally slipping your underwear down your thighs, Joel’s mouth goes dry. “Only if you want to, of course.” You beam at him and then sashay away into the en suite, Joel’s resolve breaks very quickly (immediately actually) and he’s yanking off his glasses and tossing them onto the dresser and plucking his t-shirt over his head in an instant. 

Maybe the solution is to fuck it out and he’ll gladly go as many times as needed, you always did need to be fucked hard when your attitude started to test him. 

The shower has been switched on and you’re naked under the stream as he finishes yanking both his socks, sweatpants and boxers off. He admires you through the glass, kicking his clothes into a messy pile before climbing in there with you, the air tight and hot. 

His big hands enrobe you from behind, long dexterous fingers gripping at your waist and pawing at all the exposed skin it’s been weeks since he’s seen. 

You tilt your head back from the water, resting it against his shoulder and pushing back into him, holding onto his forearms and digging your nails into his flesh. 

“Look who couldn’t resist, you bad boy. Whatever will the therapist say?” You mock, pouting those pretty lips. 

“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” He growls, nipping at your jaw and earlobe, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands. 

“If you say so.” You breathe sexily, dragging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a hungry kiss. 

His cock is trapped between his soft stomach and your lower back, smearing a pearlescent gleam as he anchors himself to you.

You moan into his mouth when he teases your nipples into tight peaks, plucking them and roughly cupping your tits. 

“I want to lick your pretty little pussy until you cum on my face.” He admits into your mouth, barely letting you breathe past the fierce kisses. Your clit throbs at his confession and you grab hold of his hand, guiding it down your body to between your legs where he teases your lips.

Your back arches prettily into him, the free hand holding your breast now grips your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back. 

“Ah.” You whine when the roughened pads of his fingers stroke your clit. “Mmm, there.” You hum, pushing into his fingers. He entertains you, dipping his fingertips to your honey slick hole and back up again, dragging the gooey wetness to smother on your clit until it’s hardened and desperate to be sucked on like candy. 

“Bet you could cum like this.” He says gruffly, beard scratching at your shoulders and neck, wherever he greedily kisses your dewy wet skin. 

“Wanna cum on you, Joel.” You whine, reaching behind you to grasp his thickness. He ruts into your hand, smearing more stickiness that you want to lick away from his tip. 

You absorb him similarly to a plant and the sun, the bulk of his form plastered against your back so big and strong, skin sun kissed and warm. He’s safety to you, every single thing about him, everything familiar that you know. 

“Needy little slut.” He whispers, your core becomes aflame at the debauchery, you nod in confirmation. “Oh, you agree? You just need a cock to sit on and your shitty attitude will be right as rain?” 

“Only your cock.” You whine, flicking your thumb against the underside of him, tracing out a vein you’re very familiar with. 

“Yeah, baby. Only mine, I know, I know.” His sweet breath is hot against your cheek as he pants, fingers strumming your clit faster. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Show me how good you can be?” You hum and nod, knees almost buckling, this is the fastest you’ve approached orgasm since being separated. 

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You say huskily, hips bucking into his hand until it’s only been two seconds since your revelation and you’re cumming - wet and sticky - into the palm of his hand. His mouth is on yours, you’re moaning and moving erratically, Joel’s cock is dribbling a steady stream of pre cum into your hand where you’re gripping his shaft. 

“Sexy little thing.” Joel husks into your ear, biting the lob as you heave for air, slowly undulating your hips as you ride the last wave of your peak against his hand. “Good girl.” He praises, taking his hand away when you weakly push at his wrist. He lifts it in front of you, fingers webbed with your cum, runny and clear. You catch his hand, slipping his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking them clean as he groans and ruts into the hand still around him, the cool palladium of his wedding ring bumps against your cupids bow as you suckle. 

You slip his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag down your chin and back to your tits. “Fuck me.” You demand haughtily, eyeing him. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby.” He confirms, softer than you were expecting, he meets you for a kiss and you suck on the plumpness of his bottom lip before turning away. Joel slicks his hair back under the spray and then begins to trace out the curve of your waist and the fullness of your ass, you feel his hand bump you knuckle first where he fists himself to complete mast and then he runs the length of himself through your pussy, hissing at the wet heat that awaits him but he pauses, retracting back unsure. 

“You want me to wear a condom?” And you freeze, looking over your shoulder in distress. 

“Have you been with other people?” You frown, your heart suddenly sinking into your stomach, making your guts twist with nausea. Joel frowns down at you, blinking away the water clinging to his lashes. 

“Course not.” He answers, you relax. “…Have you?” Joel presses.

“Absolutely not.” You state firmly. “So get inside me.” You demand, turning away to place your hands on the tiles. You feel him press kisses to your shoulders as the tip of his cock brushes your ass again, you sigh and push back into him. “Please, baby.” You beg, feeling him smile into your skin. 

“I think you’re tryin’ to baby trap me.” Joel says playfully, pulling your hips against him so that your back arches just so. 

“You had a vasectomy after Ellie, idiot.” Your hips press insistently against him and you reach back to tug at his length, your fingers barely wrapping around the girth. “Now get your dick inside me, Joel.” You demand. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans down a fraction and slicks himself up, the entire length of him slipping against your pussy lips once more and nudging your clit. “Fuuuuck.” Joel groans when he does it again and the head of him catches on your hole, slipping inside just a fraction. 

“Oh my god.” You pant, your forehead dropping to rest against the cool tiled as he fills you completely. It’s a tight fit, after over three weeks of no sex with him your body is near to combustion.

You wonder if the lack of sex has attributed to the arguments, both working long hours at your respective jobs and not having the time for the normal intimacy you usually share. 

This is exactly what you’ve been wanting in the weeks you’ve been apart; a carnal desire to have your husband close. 

His grunt in your ear sets something off in you, the relief he feels directly felt by you. 

You whimper at the first thrust after he’s settled within your velvet lined canal, body pressed between him and the wall. 

It won’t ever be like this with anyone else, you think to yourself - the way Joel fits within you, around you and alongside you. 

“Like that.” You pant, pressing back. He grunts into your ear in such a manly way that you reach back to yank on his hair, he growls into your neck and fucks into you harder. 

He’s so strong it makes your head spin, this gorgeous man with a heart of gold that loved you when you were young, married you and gave you two babies, helped you create a comfortable life for your family. 

It’s overwhelming; that sensation of being full and enveloped within the heat of his radius. 

You’ve missed everything about him; his smell, his voice, the way he tastes. You’ve ached for the things you’ve harmlessly bickered about before, such as underwear outside of the hamper, smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror after a deep clean, crumbs on the island. 

You don’t mean to let your emotions get the best of you but your eyes well and your throat tightens, your chest constricts something fierce. 

The sob that erupts out of your chest can’t be disguised by the noise of the water hitting the floor at your feet or the soft groans of Joel, not the breathless whines from yourself either. 

It’s a raw noise, jagged at the edges so much that it hurts leaving your throat. 

“Honey?” Immediately Joel has stopped moving and withdrawn, spinning you around to cup your cheeks. “Why are you cryin’?” He presses insistently, thumbs trying to swipe away your tears. Your cheeks are aflame, embarrassed to have spoilt such an intimate moment after so long. 

“I just - I just missed you.” You whimper, tucking your nose into his bicep. He cradles you to him softly beneath the spray, hushing you gently. This makes you cry more, thinking about how he’s held your babies like this; tenderly like they’re the most fragile  beings made entirely of glass. “Everything feels wrong! And… and…” You sniffle wetly. “And I can’t sleep properly without you and your dumb old man snoring!” 

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles into your hair. 

“I don’t like the whole limited contact stuff either.” You mumble. 

“Neither do I but it’s what was suggested and I think we need to try it, if we don’t like it then that’s a good sign.” He tries to pick your mood up, you pout and nod, leaning into his touch. 

“I’m scared we won’t fix this and I’ll have to watch you start dating someone else.” 

“I’m not gonna date anyone else, lady. I only want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.” He tells you. 

“That’s not true.” You hiccup. “Brandi Neil wanted you and you were going to go to Homecoming with her.” 

“Fuckin’ - that was literally over twenty somethin’ years ago and I went with you in the end!” He huffs indignantly. “Come on, let’s get dry and we can talk some more.” Joel guides you out of the shower with a gentle hand, turning off the water and handing you a towel. He leans over on more than one occasion to peck your lips, he smooths his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the mascara that’s ran in the shower from the steam. 

Once you’re both relatively dry, there’s an awkward shift in the air as you’re both naked still and Joel looks very much aroused, half hard cock swaying as he moves. 

You saunter back to the bed, peering over your shoulder to see that you’ve captured his attention intently and he gulps as you climb onto the mattress, briefly resting on all fours for a split second, wet pussy drooling and exposed before turning onto your back. 

You stretch out against the sheets not dissimilar to a renaissance painting, skin dewy with a look on your face that Joel wants to savour. 

He climbs atop the mattress with you, pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. His warm mouth finds your nipples, sucking them and biting gently, you stretch and arch into him like a puppet on strings, the weight of your breasts fitting in each of his roughened palms. You feel the brush of his cock sway against your inner thigh and you buck against it, trying to encourage him closer, you huff when he ignores you in favour of worshiping your breasts. 

“Calm down.” He murmurs. “We’ll get there.” He promises in that deep baritone which makes your purr. Joel shimmies down your body, palm dragging along your sternum and settling on your stomach where your fingers find his in a desperate squeeze. 

The broadness of him fits between your thighs, one tossed over his shoulder to open you up. It’s erotic how he looks with his mouth on you, silver streaked hair visible and it’s not long before you’re clutching at it, writhing and moaning something pretty. 

He parts your labia and licks slowly, using only the tip of his tongue, flicking over your clit and coaxing it from beneath the hood, sucking it between his lips and running his tongue repeatedly over it as you gasp and pull his hair, he suckles and there’s a lewd slurp thrown in there. 

You purr like a kitten when his fingers enter you, moving steadily and brushing your G spot with such expertise that your eyes water. He knows what you like, having learnt your body and its responses for the better part of twenty years. A gush of slick aids the smooth movement of his ring and middle finger, stroking you from the inside until it proves too much to feel so far from him. 

“Up, Joel.” You whine, tugging his tresses with more force than necessary which causes him to bite your inner thigh in retaliation but he allows himself to be malleable at the hands of you, kneeling between your legs and wiping the slick of you from his moustache and beard. 

Rocking back onto his haunches, he fists his cock at the sight of you looking wrecked, that deep possessive part of him that’s smug because it’s him that makes you look like that; flushed and desperate. 

“I won’t last long, honey.” He warns as he gets into position, wrapping both legs around his waist. 

“Don’t care.” You state, reaching down to grab hold of him and guiding the blunt head of him through your lips, teasing yourself before you notch him just right. He eases himself in gentler than before in the shower, savouring that slow stretch as he feeds you himself until the wiry coarse hairs at the base are dampened by your wetness. 

He drops onto his forearms beside your head, caging you in as he begins to move, the pendant from his St Christopher bumps your chin. You make pretty noises, clawing at his back in a way that leaves diagonal lines in various shades of pink and red. Chests pressed together, heart to heart, a rhythmic beat perfectly in sync. 

“Tell me you love me.” You gasp.

Sitting up, Joel guides your leg over his shoulder, kissing your ankle bone, toying with the dainty gold anklet there that was an anniversary present some years ago. Your back arches against the sheets and you whimper sweetly at the new sensation of his hips fitting snuggly between your thighs and the weeping head of him nudging against the sponged wall of your cervix. 

“I love you.” He groans, hands grappling your hip bones, forcing you closer like he can’t get enough, he looms over you. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I love you.” You pant back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” His nose nudges yours, lips hungrily searching to slot against yours, puffy and wet. “You remember night one of our honeymoon?” You press, exhaling hot and tone wanting. 

“Fuck yeah I do, fuck - “ His hips snap harder and you keen. “Pretty as a fuckin picture, still in your weddin’ dress on the floor.” 

“Fuck.” You sigh, fisting at his biceps with slippery fingers. “Barely made it through the motel door.” 

“You looked so fuckin good, honey. Havin’ my baby and ridin’ me on the floor.” His mouth slackens and his eyes slip closed, clearly deep in thought. 

“I wanna do it again, Joel.” You gasp, fingers shakily circling your clit, hard and slippery. 

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have another honeymoon, renew our vows first and everythin’.” He grunts. 

“Baby.” You whimper in his ear. “I’m cumming, fuck me harder.” You say it breathlessly and all his carnal instincts take over, he fucks you that hard the headboard slams into the wall and takes a layer of sage green paint off. You’re loud through your climax, hips jumping and blood rushing through every vein like accelerant and fire. 

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” He groans, fingers moulding into the mattress, orgasm hitting so hard it makes the edges of his vision blacken. “Fuckin’ Christ.” You kiss his throat from your place beneath him, licking his jugular like the fucking minx you are, biting a tendon. 

The white of his teeth is blinding as his lip curls into a near snarl, the pulse of warmth as he orgasms spreads within you and you pant, flushed from head to toe. 

You kiss him as he grunts to completion, teeth clashing. 

“You’re so good - so good.” You murmur into his mouth, frantically pushing his hair from his damp forehead. “You’re perfect.” You hum, enraptured. 

“That’s you.” He smiles, lip curving against yours. “My pretty little wife.” 

He strokes your hair and traces your features, eyes searching yours for something; hope maybe and you smile gently at him, pulling him down beside you once he’s withdrawn from the warmth of your body. 

You rest against him, cheek to his chest to listen to the thrum below. You count his freckles and you trace his knuckles, you kiss his exposed skin over and over, you absorb as much of him as you can, feeling fulfilled for the first time in weeks. 

Joel quietly observes you, you lean up on your elbow, dragging your manicured nails down the centre of his chest, he watches you with his arm behind his head. You pause and lean down to rest your chin on his sternum, blinking with those fluttery lashes that cast a shadow high on your cheekbones. 

“Thank you for my flowers.” You say, he smiles softly and reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers. “Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, Ellie messaged me and said you’d had a tough week at work before that dumb fucking argument we had.” His long fingers comb through your hair, you rest easily on his stomach now, letting your eyes slip shut. “Wanna talk about it, baby?” 

“Not really.” You huff. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” Joel sighs in exasperation at your vague answer. 

“You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” 

“We’re supposed to be taking time apart to stop the fighting, me unloading everything onto you isn’t going to help that.” You tell him. 

“I think communication is exactly what we need.” He disagrees. 

“You’re starting an argument now.” You chuckle with an eye roll, resting your cheek against his warm skin. He rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply, continuing to stroke your hair, twirling some around his finger. “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“What if we can’t fix this?” 

“We can.” He replies determinedly. “Nearly twenty years together and two kids later, I’m still so in love with you, whether we’re fighting or not.” 

“I love you.” You murmur. 

“I love you more.” He replies. “And I love our girls.” Joel adds. 

“Me too.” You shift and snuggle into him, resting your head beneath his chin. 

He holds you quietly, his touch a major comfort. You think back over the almost month it’s been since the marriage counsellor had suggested Joel move out of the martial house for awhile and stay with his brother, just so you could see if distance would be beneficial after the amalgamation of late working nights, the stress of parenting two teenage girls and life itself along with naturally getting older, you already dancing that line of perimenopause. 

The space had made you realise you didn’t want to be without him and you’d both seemed to realise that you didn’t want to split up, you just needed to figure out a way to make things work. 

“I think we should trial the time apart for another week and keep seeing the counsellor for a few more months.” You begin. “I’m gonna figure something out at work and reduce my hours, no more bringing it home with me.” 

“That sounds good.” Joel murmurs, twisting a piece of your hair. “I’m goin’ to cut my days down to four, I think the finances will be fine and I want to be around here more for you and the girls.” He tells you, you nod slowly and blink away the tears that have suddenly come at the softness of his voice. 

“I don’t care if we have to give up any extra luxuries, I just need you and our kids here happy.” You emphasise. 

“That’s what I want too, baby. No more arguments over stupid shit, I’m sorry for bein’ so fuckin’ horrible lately.” 

“I was horrible too, Joel.” You say. “We just need to keep working on things and if we feel an argument brewing then we should take a step back and reassess what’s caused it and find a solution just like the therapist says.” You advise. “Also we should make time for a date night every week.” 

“Sounds good to me, baby.” Joel agrees, tugging you forward. “Kiss me, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He murmurs sweetly and you go easily, moulding yourself over him to meet him for a deep kiss that speaks a thousand words and apologies. 

“Hey.” You say suddenly, eyes flitting over to the vanity where multiple photo frames sit. “You remember that trip we took to Seattle when the kids were little?” Joel follows your line of sight where they’re focused on one of the smaller frames holding two polaroids, one of Sarah and Ellie when they were eight and four, then another you’d taken of Joel on the pier with the wheel behind him you’d taken. 

“Yeah.” He says fondly. “That was a great trip, the kids loved it.” 

“What was that girl called that Ellie made friends with at the aquarium?” You smile as you think of a rambunctious Ellie, stomping around holding her Daddy’s hand in her tiny overalls, pointing at every fish she saw swimming ahead in the glass tunnels. 

“Oh er… fuck. What was it? Little blonde girl with a braid.” He recites, thinking back almost a decade. “Abby!” He suddenly exclaims and you hum, nodding. 

“That was it, they were so cute together watching the sea lion show, remember how jealous Sarah was that she thought all Ellie’s love was being stolen away.” You giggle, nuzzling his shoulder. “We should go again now they’re grown up.” 

There’s a comfortable silence as you bask in the evening sun coming through the window behind the bed, coating you in warmth while you lazily make out with your husband like you used to as teenagers in his beat up truck. 

You moan into his mouth when a hand sneakily skims your back and moulds to the fleshiest part of your backside. Sitting back to take a breath, you begin to kiss at his stubbled jaw, focusing intently on the grey patches and working yourself down his throat, to his clavicle and down his chest where he has yours, Sarah’s and Ellie’s name tattooed over his heart. 

He props himself up in interest on his elbows when you make it to his sternum, nipping near his navel and dragging your nails through the smattering of hair below it until you reach his groin. 

“You think you can go again?” You smirk at him, nipping his hip, sucking a small bruise into the skin above his pubic area.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be rarin’ to go.” He huffs, cradling the back of your head when you lick above his pubic area.

You move lower and his cock begins to swell against his thigh, his thighs tense when your hot breath drifts over his length. 

Just as you’re about to drag your tongue over the flushed head of him, you hear a car skim across the gravel driveway and you both freeze. 

“Shit, that’s the kids.” You panic, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to gather up something to wear. “Quick!” You urge Joel who looks equally as panicked as he yanks up his boxers. You find a long floral dress to throw on from the corner and manage to yank up the panties you were wearing earlier, the crotch becomes sodden with the semen but you ignore the uncomfortable wet feeling and try to fan away the flush on your cheeks as you watch your husband get dressed. 

You’re both barrelling down the stairs just as the front door opens and you bump into Joel as you skid on foyer tiles, he steadies you as your kids stare back. 

You and Joel try to act casual despite the feral things you’ve just done.

“You’re back early.” You squeak, very aware of your damp hair and smudged makeup. 

It’s a mere second before your daughter’s come barrelling full force towards the apple of their eyes, pregnancy and labour be damned. 

“Dad!” The girls squeal in unison, rushing to hug him. He wraps an arm around each of them, eyes slipping shut with contentment. 

“Hi, my girls.” He sighs happily, nosing Ellie’s hairline and then Sarah’s. 

“Missed you.” You hear Ellie tell him. 

“Hi, mom.” You mock unseriously, crossing your arms. 

“Hey, mom.” Ellie mocks devilishly, tilting her head back with the same teasing look her father possesses more often than not. She’s her father’s daughter, a carbon copy of him whereas Sarah is more like you. 

“You have a good afternoon?” You ask when Sarah meanders her way into your orbit, wrapping her arms around your waist. She nods against you and you tuck some hair out of her face, she nuzzles into you. 

“The movie was packed so we got frozen yoghurt and walked around Target instead, we got you some candy.” She says sweetly, rubbing her cheek into your collar whilst Ellie is resting her chin against Joel’s chest with her arms wound around his waist, whispering something that makes him chuckle and sway her from side to side tenderly. 

She stares up at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon just for you, you’re certain she’d crawl into his rib cage and stay there if she could and you don’t blame her.

“Thank you, sweet girls.” You beam. “Hey, are you both in for dinner tonight?” You suddenly wonder. 

“Yes, sir.” Ellie replies. 

“I’ve got no plans.” Sarah shrugs. 

“How about we Doordash something? Could eat it on the patio?” You suggest and Ellie cheers, Joel chuckles into her hair. 

“Even Dad?” Sarah hesitates as she asks, looking at you hopefully. Your heart breaks, Joel staying away had some serious effects in the first week even though they knew you weren’t going through a divorce and trying to fix things. Ellie acted out at school and Sarah shut herself away, both missing their father’s presence at home even though they saw him most days after school and on weekends if they weren’t out with friends. 

You’d never stopped them seeing him and wouldn’t dare to even if things were irreparable between you. 

“Of course.” You answer Sarah, Ellie looks between you and Joel curiously, her eyes narrow when she sees him smiling softly at you and clocks you blushing. 

“Whatcha both been doing?” Ellie asks slyly. 

“Hanging out, your Dad fixed the shelf for me.” You tell her nonchalantly over Sarah’s head. “So uh.. which one of you ratted on me for breaking it?” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Ellie sniffs, you tug the end of her ponytail.

“Mmm.” You murmur, unconvinced. “Go get changed into something comfy and have a think about what you fancy for dinner.” You order, nodding towards the stairs. 

“Race ya!” Ellie bellows suddenly, pushing Sarah into you to get a head start. 

“Hey!” Her older sister shouts, barrelling after her while you sigh and head towards the kitchen, the peace and quiet officially gone. 

Joel gives you a flirtatious look and your heart jumps, your chest warms as do your cheeks. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You demand, pushing his face away in the opposite direction. He chuckles and grabs your wrist, using it as leverage to pull you to him.  

“What? Like I want to eat you?” He murmurs lowly, you hum affirmatively. “Maybe I do.” 

“That could be arranged.” You whisper, he takes you back into his arms, walking with you until you hit the edge of the kitchen island. You pull him into a kiss, dragging your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

He growls lowly and hoists you up onto the surface, stepping between your legs, running his hands up and down your parted thighs. 

“The kids are listenin’ to us.” Joel whispers into your ear when he pulls away, nodding outside of the kitchen entryway where you realise you didn’t hear them run all the way to the top of the stairs. 

“No, we’re not!” Sarah has the audacity to yell with offence, you giggle into Joel’s t-shirt.

“Get changed before I make your Dad cook his famous spaghetti surprise dinner tonight instead of getting take out!” You holler back. 

“That was one time.” Joel complains under his breath. 

“Make us a sister.” Ellie shouts from halfway upstairs. 

“No chance! Dad got snipped after you anyway, he said you were more than enough trouble and you were barely out the womb!” You shout back, cackling when you hear both her and Sarah gag fiercely. 

“It’s true!” Joel adds. “I had frozen peas on my crotch for days!”

“Gross!” They both exclaim. 

That night, you sit on the patio furniture, with your husband and children, your feet cradled in his lap with glasses of wine and takeout with quiet music playing from Alexa, giggling and telling them stories of your teenage years and some of a time they’re too young to remember, planning a trip to Seattle they’re ecstatic over. 

You’re certain that everything will be okay. 

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

Dumb competition

Everyone says the clones are brothers but forget adorable Zohakuten🥹 so here's hc's of the reader dating Karaku, Sekido, Aizetsu and Urogi (individually) and being jealous of their little brother Zohakuten being clingy to the reader lmao

Warnings: fem!reader, human reader, reader is mentioned to have a soft spot for kids lmao, bimbo!reader (?), cussing, possessive, fluff, humor, jealousy

Aizetsu

Aizetsu is easily jealous but likes to deny it. He'll consently tell you how sad it makes him when he wants to spend time with you in his home, but his little brother, Zohakuten, always wants to talk to you when he comes over. "But Aizetsu, I can't just say no to Zohakuten. He's adorable, " you said, petting his head and sitting with him at the table smiling "ok I'll talk with you for 5 more minutes, then I have to give Aizetsu attention, okay?" You said softly to Zohakuten

"Very well then," he says and turns to Aizetsu with his arms crossed. "I like y/n too, you know. She's my best friend, " Zohakuten says and holds your hand. Aizetsu, grab your other hand, looking more sad than usual "baby whats wrong?" You asked, looking at him with concern.

To Aizetsu, he thinks his little brother is mischievous and a homewracker for your attention off him for a minute. He doesn't want to tell you that since you have a soft spot for children and didn't want to upset you with his words, but at this point, he couldn't help it

Aizetsu noticed the evil little grin Zohakuten had on his face as he held your hand more. "Look at the face he's making!" His voice trembles like he was about to cry, but when you turned your head to Zohakuten his face changed back to to his regular resting bitch face.

Aizetsu can get easily upset when Zohakuten gets your attention when you come over, so you always have to reassure him when you two are alone. "Aizetsu, I know what it's like to have a brother, so I just think Zohakuten just reminds me of my brother. You're the man that comes first for me, " you say and kiss his cheek.

When Aizetsu gets his reassurance from you, he starts to come up with ways where his annoying little brother wouldn't bother you two on your alone time. He doesn't look it, but Aizetsu can be very petty and will lie to Zohakuten about your were abouts. "Y/n is sick?" Zohakuten asked, and Aizetsu nodded."Yes. I'm going to go find a human to eat now." he says, but it's clearly a lie

Instead, he finds nice spots outside where no one can bother either of you, and he gets to have you all to himself.

Sekido

Sekido doesn't hide his jealousy. He makes it very clear to not only Zohakuten but to the rest of his brothers and any man that you belong to him and no one eles. So when his little brother wants to be too clingy to you, he'll deal with it on his own.

When you come over, it's always at night since that's the best time to spend with your beloved. He will be outside sitting on the porch waiting for you. He's always irritated and impatient when he has to wait for you, but it would make him angry when Zohakuten will randomly pop up next to Sekido waiting for you, too.

"Go back inside. She's not here to see you. Fuck off" he looing down at his brother. "But y/n said she's bring me a gift." Zohakuten looks at his Sekido with the same expression Sekido gave him. Sekido's eyes widened in anger and before he could respond, he heard your voice, "Hey guys!" You waved your hand in the air

Zohakuten didn't say a word and just started to run you "what the- get the fuck back here" Sekido yells chasing after Zohakuten. You giggle at the small demon child running to you and open your arms to hug him. Zohakuten hugs you like when a child hugs their motthers hips which sent Sekido into a rage "GET AWAY YOU STUPID CHILD!" Sekido says and marches to you both and grabs the back of his shirt to pull him off.

You hold Zohakuten closer to you and turn him awau from Sekido "babe don't get so mad at him! He's just a child who's happy to see someone" you say softly and pet his head only for Zohakuten to hug you tighter "that "child" is a little shit who knows what he's doing! To piss me off!" Sekido shouts

"Come now, don't be like that. He's also like this because i have a gift for the little guy. Let's open your gift inside, okay?" You smiled sweetly and watched Zohakuten nod.

Sekido sighs, letting go of Zohakuten shirt and putting his hand on your hip, pulling you close. "Let's go instead-" "y/n. carry me" Zohakuten cut off Sekido and raised up his hands "hell fucking no" Sekido growls. "Stop that. Come here, sweety, " you said, talked to him as you held him in your arms

Sekido gave Zohakuten the death stare as you guys walked back to the house, gripping onto your hip tighter, and Zohakuten stuck his tongue out at Sekido. "I hate children," Sekido groans

Karaku

Karaku is jealous of your soft side for children, no matter if the child is human or a demon. The only person he wants you to be soft with is himself, but he can't change that side of you, so he sucks it up when you are soft with Zohakuten. Before you even come over, he makes sure Zohakuten doesn't know, so he doesn't, but in with the dates, Karaku sets up for you two.

You and Karaku are sitting outside enjoying the nice full moon and stars that light up the shy "so beautiful" you said "not as beautiful as you" Karaku grins only for you to laugh at his corny joke. You have a blanket around you as you guys sit on the grass to keep yourself warm and watch the fog come out from you every time you breathed.

Karaku smirks at your cutrness and wraps his arm. Are you having his face very close to yours? "still cold?" "N-not anymore," you say, looking into his green eyes, wanting to kiss him. "What are you guys doing?" Zohakuten asks, standing behind you guys

You jumped and wiped your head back and then laughed "oh Zohakuten it's just you" you said laughing but Karaku only rolled his eyes looking at his little brother with an annoyed expression "way to kill the mood. Can't you see I'm having a romantic moment with my girlfriend? Get lost," he said.

You gasp "Karaku don't say that. We were having a moment, " you said."Were???" Karaku said under his breath, wanting the moment to continue,"but I don't mind if you're here, sweetie, " you said, patting next you you "come sit," you said and Zohakuten sits down. Karaku pulls closer to you making your bodies touch more making sure you aren't touching even an inch of Zohakuten.

You turn your head to see Zohakuten shivering. "Zohakuten, are you cold?" You asked with concern. Karaku only side eyes raising his eyebrow. "I am," Zohakuten said "well that's because you barely have anything on. Come sweetie, " you said and opened the blanket. Zohakuten quickly sits on your lap, and you cover both of you with the blanket resting your chin on Zohakuten head

Karaku's eyes widen "y/n he's lying!!! demons don't get cold. We don't feel that!" Karaku raised his voice. "Demon children can get cold. Y/n's warmth is like a mother, " he said, closing his eyes to rest, and you smiled happily at the complement

Karaku stayed silent and started grabbing the blanket. "I'm cold too. Adult demons can get like that, and I'm a rare breed, " he said, getting in the blanket with you guys

"Yes, baby.... You're a rare breed indeed"

Urogi

Urogi hates when Zohakuten brings you any handmade gifts. He's not jealous of his brother, but he won't deny he's gets mad at how Zohakuten knows exactly what you like he dose.

Urogi likes to fly next to you, holding your hand with his claw while the two of you walk together in the forest. The number one thing you both had in common was nature's, so night walks were always a every night thing with him. Urogi knows you also love handmade jewelry, there will be nights like tonight were Zohakuten will tag along and hold your other hand as the two of you walk together with Urogi flying behind you guys, glaring at his brother

Urogi will always have a way to try and get Zohakuten to go away when he tags along. He'll flap his wings hard enough to create a lot of wind so dust can fly to Zohakuten to Irritate him, but the dust always ends up getting on you, and you scold him for it. When Urogi offers to dust you off but Zohakuten is doing the same thing "Don't mess up my human friend," he'll say just to spite Urogi

"Y/n, can we make matching Bead bracelets together when we go back home?" He asked looking up at you "of course we-" "Cannot" Urogi cuts you off "Me and y/n were going to do that actually so you can just go play with Aizetsu or something" Urogi said with confidence "...we were? Cool!" You smiled at Urogi

Zohakuten started to sniffle, making you and Urogi turn your head to see what's wrong. "That's not fair. I wanted to make bead bracelets with y/n, too..." he said with big fat tears rolling down his cheek. You got down on your knees to match his level and hug him "no no don't cry, it's okay! Urogi C'mon let him join us. " You look back at him with glossy eyes as if you were about to cry as well, making Urogi groan.

"Fuck. Fine fine just this once, jeez," he said with a pout. You smiled at Urogi and then hugged Zohakuten again until he stopped crying. Urogi looked down at you two when he saw Zohakuten have an evil grin, sticking the middle finger at him and mouthing "fuck you".

"Y/N LOOK HES FAKING IT!" he points his Tallon at Zohakuten. You look at Zohakuten only to see the "poor" demon child still having bug yesrs roll down his face. "Fucking brat! Stop that crying right now!" He yelled only to make Zohakuten cling to you."Urogi. You shouldn't yell at your little brother. He's just a child. " You looked at your boyfriend disappointed

"Just a child my ass" Urogi says under his breath and then forced a smile "okay let's just go home"

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (pt 2)

Pairing: Aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 3.6k)

Summary: Despite learning about Aemond cheating on you, life has never been sweeter. Who knew being so bad could be so good.

Warnings: manipulation, mentions/allusions to pregnancy issues, mentions of self harm

A/N: first, I just have to say thank you for the response to part 1. I truly had no idea it would get the reception it would. Thank you to everyone who followed me as well. I hope I can continue to produce stuff y’all like. I’m hoping to write more hotd stuff, Aemond and non Aemond related. I plan on taking a small hiatus but will be back around thanksgiving weekend. I will be writing on/off during that time but just away for a trip/the holiday. If you have any hotd requests my inbox is always open. I would try to get them out either before my hiatus next week (11/16) or after it ends (11/26). I’m pretty open to writing any character, though I will warn you I’m way more fascinated by the greens so they just come easier to me. Anyway please reblog, like, and follow if you read anything you enjoy 🫶🏽🫶🏽. And some housekeeping: in this Aegon is not r*pist who enjoys watching children fight (the hotd are truly…. not right for the cartoonishly evil way they wrote Aegon). He’s just petty and neglected. Also the timing of this is different from the books bc Aemond meets Alys pre dance.

Fmo masterlist

Blog Masterlist

A bastard Strong. The irony is not lost on you. Your straight-laced husband fucking someone who is the complete opposite you. Older, no kids, no title, and no duty to uphold. At this point, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Instead, it makes your blood boil in the most delicious way. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize how you’ve been going through the motions; endlessly sleepwalking, hoping one day Aemond would come around. It woke you up to how much he’s taken advantage of you. He sees your kindness, and aversion to standing out as a weakness. Something he can manipulate and twist like one of his daggers.

The both of you must have forgetten where you came from. A rich, well respected house. The only daughter of smart, albeit conniving, family that knows how to get what they want. Your family didn’t have dragons or absurd ideas of exceptionalism to help you gain power. You’ve learned that inflated egos and prideful indulges can cloud Targaryen judgment. A trait you hope skips your children.

Shame on you for thinking Aemond would be different. Shame on him for the carefully curated facade.

All you do after Larys Strong comes to you the first time is think. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had this many options in front of you. Your mother’s words about patience run through your head. Keeping your wits is key. Play your hand too quickly, and you lose all leverage. You have Daella and the babe in your belly to think about. You stood pat in the beginning; Lord Strong simply relaying messages to you. You make sure Alys gets the letter Aemond wrote, and the ones after that. Lord Larys makes sure you get the details of each letter exchanged.

When the days grew lonely, and your body aches because of the babe in your stomach, you think about the letters. The declarations of love and recounts of lust filled meetups simmer in your head, but it’s the mentions of you that makes the anger sizzle and crackle. It makes the guilt you feel wash away.

You question if the rumor is true. That his Alys is a witch. Does her magic allow her to see the way Helaena can? Fuzzy premonitions and dreams that only make sense after they happen; a gift and a curse. A part of you wishes it to be true. You hope while your stomach stirs with untold truths, hers stirs with regret. Maybe the pain that runs through you leaves an unfamiliar taste in her mouth. That she can’t quite put her finger on it, but she feels you.

You wonder if when Aemond prays, he asks the Father to protect him… to protect her. The same way when you pray, you ask the Warrior to help you find the courage to destroy him.

It started with a bruise. A bruise that you don’t even remember how you got. Maybe one of those things you just wake up with. But it’s there, on the inside part of your left arm. It’s starting to fade but an otherwise noticeable bruise that stands out when you wear something with shorter sleeves.

The idea doesn’t come to you till you see the curiosity in Alicent’s eyes when you absentmindedly rub the bruise while asking if she’s seen Aemond. It’s only you two in the walkway; an unusually quiet day at the Red Keep. Her eyes go from it to the far away look in your eyes. It makes her tilt her head in thought.

“No dear, I haven’t,” her eyes go back to the scratch. “Are you doing alright? I know for some, the second babe can be even harder than the first.”

You look down at your arm, and something just clicks.

“I’m fine,” you start, then you make your voice tremble a bit. “I will be fine. I think I’m just tired.”

You give her a strained smile, and she returns one that tells you she doesn’t believe you. You can feel her big brown eyes burning into your back when you walk past her towards your chambers. There could be two thoughts in her head: you did this yourself or someone else did it to you. Either way, her son’s sweet pregnant lady wife is not doing well, and her son is nowhere to be found. Queen Alicent is one of the smartest, if not the smartest, person you know. She sees the change in her son; the change in the dynamic between Aemond and you.

It hits you. It would be too easy to physically harm Aemond. Though the idea of taking the blade that hangs from his hips and putting it to his throat has crossed your mind more times than you’re proud of. It would be too easy to get Larys to kill Alys. You don’t want to give Aemond the satisfaction of having his whore’s blood on your hands.

Where’s the fun in killing when your rage could be channeled into something more… methodical.

Under all that false bravado is the little boy who got picked on for not having a dragon. To break the man means bringing out that little boy. A truly broken man can’t love anyone. Isolation, and self hatred. What a gorgeous combination for your dear husband.

If this is going to work you need to up the ante.

So, you write. If Aemond and Alys can document their love, you can document your pain. You sent your lady in waiting out to get a blank book from one of the maesters. The color dyed cow skin feels smooth under your hands. There needs to be a slow build. Each day you grow closer and closer to shattering. Whoever reads it needs to know Aemond brought you to this place. He is the villain in the story of the poor, innocent wife that did nothing but carry his children and try to love him.

It will read like a diary, but to you it is a creation. A mixture of truth and imagination. A manifestation of pent up feelings. Purging and revenge all rolled up into one. You make sure to mention how terrified you are for your safety, and for you children’s safety. How an angry or disenchanted Aemond is nothing to toy with, especially if he has a bastard witch on his side. How maybe life would be better for Aemond if you just weren’t around.

But this fading bruise isn’t enough. Neither is just having a diary that will be discovered in due time. A deep cut, a dark bruise, half hazardously placed hand prints.. now that could work.

There’s something cathartic about the pain you feel when the dagger slices through your skin. The blood is so red and warm. It smears so smoothly on the page. Blood on your dress, cloth pressed to the wound, and wandering the halls is how Ser Criston finds you. You notice the worried, confused look in his eyes when you stutter out an ‘I don’t know’ when he asks what happened.

As the maester tends to your wound, you notice how Alicent and Criston stand in the corner of Alicent’s quarters. They occasionally glance at you while they whisper to each other. You recognize the familiar crinkle she gets in her forehead when she’s upset. All her children do it too.

“Sweetling, we both think it might be a good idea to give you your own knight of the kingsguard,” she sits next you. “Just to help you and… keep an eye on you during this vulnerable time.”

You blink. Not one mention of her son. But it’s clear to see how Ser Criston is with his queen. Submissive, and utterly devoted. Having someone like that is an asset. So, you smile weakly and nod. The more people who see you in this way, the better.

Ser Quinton Throne was quiet in the beginning. As if he was scared to be in your space. A far cry from the rambunctious knight his brother, Rickard, is. Moving past the initial shyness, he is attentive and even indulges Daella’s fascination with him. Despite you telling her not to, she would always run up to him, tugging on his white cloak to get his attention. She likes having someone around just as much as you.

The distance between Aemond and you had started to carry over into his relationship with Daella. Kids are more intuitive than adults give them credit for. Your throat felt tight when you daughter finally asks where father goes. You lie; it comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would. It makes you think if this is how easy it is for Aemond to lie to you. Or for everyone to not gloss over the clear problems in your life.

You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having a man around, even if it was his job. It was Aemond’s job to do right by you, and he couldn’t do that. A man carrying out his orders with a warm smile was welcomed. The comfort of having someone who sweared his allegiances to you, and only you, and intended on keeping them.

You look from your embroidery loop to see Daella and Ser Quinton sword fighting with wooden swords. It’s an uncharacteristically sunny day. Perfect to get much needed fresh air, and apparently going to battle.

“She’s gotten quite good.”

Like a storm rolling in to ruin a sunny day, your husband’s tone is ever cold and distant. You hate the uncomfortable energy that radiates when he sits next to you.

“Yes, she has,” you stare at the Lysene lilac flower starting to come to life on your loop. “He’s good with her as well.”

You know he won’t like you saying that. He hates Quinton being around, and he especially hates how Daella taken a liking to him. Aemond scoffs and mumbles something under his breath you can’t make out.

“It’s just lovely having real protector around,” you continue to push your luck. “Someone so attentive and… strong.“

You look at with his a sickening sweet smile. He opens his mouth to say something, a complaint or rude comment since those seem to be the only reasons he talks to you, but he is interrupted by Daella yelling out for him.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he mutters to you, getting up.

“Oh you’ll actually be here long enough for that?”

The words slip out your mouth and it makes him turn to glare at you. It reminds you of the gossip you heard about him when you first arrived at court. How cold the king’s second son can be. It should’ve been a warning to you.

Quinton takes it as his cue to leave them be; you know he can sense how much Aemond doesn’t appreciate his presence. You watch as Daella clings to her father. As selfish as it sounds, you patiently wait for the day she too realizes he can’t be depended on.

“My mother used to make me embroider,” your knight’s voice breaks you out of looking on. “Something about being dangerous with a needle is just as great as being dangerous with a sword.”

You take a good look at him. If Aemond is the moon - ethereal, mysterious, and always changing, then Quinton is the sun. Bright, forward facing, and shines brighter with time. His choppy black hair, beard, and warm standing in contrast to your husband’s Targaryen features.

“Sounds like a smart woman,” you smile as he sits next to you.

His eyes linger on your embroidery work before traveling to you right arm. The blade wound was just starting to scab and scar over. His first day on duty was marked by seeing your husband give a long lecture on safety and ‘using your brain’ after Aemond saw your wound. The blade cut wasn’t under pure circumstances, but the look of resentment on your face was real. He saw that. He’s never asked what really happened to your arm.

“How are you my lady,” he whispers. You told him he can address you by your name, but he still insist on the formal names especially around others. “Is the babe giving you trouble.”

Ser Quinton, Helaena, and Alicent are the only people that seem to care about your well being, on top of the babe’s. Aemond concern went making sure the babe was fine to just not asking all together. It’s better that way, you think. You don’t think you’d be able to take fake concern about your little ‘mistake’.

“My bladder is being pushed on, I’m finding clumps of my hair on my pillow, and Maester Oliver told me this baby will weigh more than Daella did,” you reply lightly. “But other than that I’m doing fine.”

This pregnancy had knocked you on your ass. You’re sure the stress and thoughts that consume you don’t help. You know how it feels to come into a fracture family; it makes you feel awful for the babe in your stomach. Your parents tried hard, frankly too hard, to pretend things were good between them. Trying to prove their union was more than a duty for their houses. Till this day, you don’t know what’s worse: knowing they didn’t share that love or the years you watched them fake everything. They had ambitions, and to carry them out there needed to be an appearance of an united front. You took your father’s lead, knowing he always tried to have your best interest. The relationship you have with your mother often ebbing and flowing, especially since your marriage.

When you ravened your mother about your pregnancy troubles, she tells you that this is your responsibility to your husband. Harsh and utterly true. You don’t know if your father ever had indiscretions like Aemond, but you know she’d never plot the way you do. Her calculating nature showing up in different ways. Instead of going after him, she chose to focus on elevating you.

Her and Queen Alicent remind you of each other. Devoted to a fault. A victim who had no other choice but to fall in line.You pray for the both of them. Pray that they find peace with the sacrifices they’ve made. Pray that you never get that far. A shell of yourself. Duty, responsibility, cleaning up others’ messes - what a dull way to live.

“Once he’s out, I’m sure it will all be worth it,” says Ser Quinton, voice not wavering.

He’s trying to be kind, mentioning the working theory in the castle that you’re having a boy. You try to smile at the thought. It’s hard to believe that. Plan or not, you still have to know the truth about the father of your children. There is hole left in your heart about that. Him disrespecting you is one thing, but his words pertaining to your unborn child is another. A sudden spurt of anger rushes over you thinking about everything. It makes you stand abruptly.

“I’m feeling tired,” you watch as Daella pretend to stab her father with her sword. Her giggles ringing out when he reaches to pick her up. The dichotomy of Aemond Targaryen will always fascinate you as much as it terrifies you. How he manages to smile in her face, and lie to yours is quite a sight to watch. “I’ll send Margret out to get Daella.”

Waiting for the perfect moment is not going to work. There no time like the present.

The stiff upper lip of this family is something you noticed the moment you stepped into their presence. It’s seeped into the way they gatekeep a dying Viserys. Alicent is cold and collected in the most beautiful way. A sharp glittering icicle. A pretty rose littered with thorns to keep you admiring from a distance. Even Helaena, who you consider a friend, keeps certain things close to the chest. It’s better to keep the full truth away from her.

But there’s Aegon.

Pitiful, and lonely Prince Aegon. A drunk with a bad attitude. But he’s also the most painfully self-aware person you know. There will be times that you and him exchange looks, as you are in on the joke. That everything is a farce. One day someone will just come up and say it’s all been a bad dream. You think it’s the reason why he frustrates Aemond so much. The teasing on top of him never taking the Targaryen name seriously. Aegon spends his days trying to drink and fuck his way out of thinking about his life. Stuck in a royal cuckold. The first born son of a king with nothing to show for it.

He’s messy, nosy, and so openly brash. He’s your missing chess piece. The perfect pawn.

You leave the diary around places in the castle you know he will be. It’s not until you conveniently leave it in the play room where all Daella, Jaehaera, and Jaehaerys all frequent that you know he’s taken the bait. His lilac eyes seem to follow you whenever you two are in the same room. It takes days for him to confront you; book in hand and wry look on his face.

“Is it true? Everything you wrote?”

You stroke your belly while looking at him, a small smile on your face.

“Does it matter that if it is,” you tilt your head, and his eyes glitter with something you’re not used to seeing.

He mirrors your head tilt with a full blown smile on his face this time. It’s like a bright light after weeks of darkness. A person who also sees through the bullshit that enraptures once you call yourself a Targaryen.

“I greatly underestimated you my good sister,” he whispers. You know he’s thinking about his own words. ‘Pretty but horribly dull’.

“That’s fine,” you motion to the seat next to you. “You can make it up to me.”

Queen Alicent stands facing the fire. Aegon, Helaena, and Ser Quinton off to the side. All of them standing across from where you sit. Aegon gives you a knowing look while Quinton’s eyes are filled with pity and anger. Pity for his princess, anger towards his prince. Helaena looks like she wants to say something.

“I… do not know what to say,” her voice is strained with pain. You know this hurts for her. The image of the perfect son being destroyed. The pedestal she put him on crumbling before him.

You’ve gotten better at crying after Aegon told you tears will be necessary to sell it. It’s an automatic response now. The perfectly timed emotion that breaks like flood gates when Alicent holds out the diary. You say you’re embarrassed. That you never meant for anyone to read it, especially not anyone in the family. Aegon gets to be the concerned good brother. He rubbed your back, while his mother called for Helaena. She needed to know who else knew about this.

“I can say what everyone is thinking,” Aegon pipes up. “He’s a fucking cunt.”

“Aegon.”

His mother turns to glare at him, but it doesn’t deter him.

“Walking around with that self righteousness just to fuck a Strong,” he scoffs. “Calling his child a mistake?”

The words makes Alicent sigh, and squeeze her eyes shut. Helaena continues to play with her fingers with a quizzical look in her eye. If Aegon of all people can judge, the actions must be bad.

“This all my fault,” you decide to take it up a notch. Your breath catches. “I must’ve done something to deserve this.”

“Oh my sweet girl,” Alicent walks over and sits next to you, pulling you into her chest. “None of this is your fault.

“I just don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you continue. That part is true; what the seven hells did you do to deserve this marriage? “This, and the baby, and missing my family. I’m just so unhappy here.”

Alicent strokes your hair. You can feel her heart thumping in her chest. You can tell she’s upset and scared. Scared for what your unhappiness means. You’re a risk now.

“Maybe… my father can come and visit. He hasn’t been here since Daella was born.”

After you got married, your parents left court to tend to your house. They felt their work was done. That the marriage was as far as their political ambitions can go. They visit from time to time to see their granddaughter but normally you’re the one who has to make the trip.

“Of course,” you can see the wheels turning in her head. “I’m sure the Hand would love to pick his brain on some things. Your father has always been so kind and helpful”

Queen Alicent is as predictable as she is smart. Your dad thought your marriage would help him get a seat in the small council. When no offer came, his ego was bruised. If your marriage couldn’t, maybe a desperate Alicent can. The idea of sending a raven about the news makes you have to bite back a smile. An ally in an castle full of strangers.

“I’ll speak to Aemond about this,” she nods to herself. “You don’t need to be worrying about this in your condition.”

The disappointment is clear in smooth voice. Before you can reply with a thank you, Helaena finally piped up.

“A baby’s green eyes spurs brighter skies.”

She mutters it before looks at you curious. You look down at your swollen belly, feeling confused. Neither Aemond or you have green eyes. You try to push the sinking feeling out of your stomach. Even Aegon, who normally ignores Helaena’s cryptic language, has perked up a little.

You take a look at Ser Quinton… his eyes as green as spring grass.

Ok this is my first one doing a tag list, so I’m sorry for those I’ve missed. It only let me do 50??? Idk it’s it’s different on desktop or I’m doing something wrong. Hopefully I can find a more conducive way for this. I also only tagged people who specifically asked: @afro-hispwriter @crispmarshmallow @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @its-sam-allgood @lol-im-done @grey-water-colors @sassysaxsolo @justsumstufff @lilithskywalker @dc-marvel-girl96 @bekky06 @claudie-080102 @cloudroomblog @shelbythequeen @crazylokonugget @solacestyles @instantpeachpeace @katyadenauer @nsainmoonchild @deeeeexx @iwanttohitmyself @rosa-berberifolia @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @princessmiaelicia @bregarc @castellomargot @thesadvampire @chaosmagiq @icarusignite @happinessinthebeing @flavorofsalt @wishfulwithwine @slut-for-eddie-munson @rosaryos @mistalli @inana-mm @winxschester @papery-maniac @nolongereviliwantlove @fultimefangirl @missusnora @skinmittensgoblin @duckworthbean @b00kdiary @chiyausu @alexandra-001 @tachibubu @juneisreading @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @verycollectivecreator

[glassbirdfeather]

Complaining about the final boss in Shadow of the Erdtree, both in terms of lore and mechanics. Spoilers for the end of Shadow of the Erdtree:

Part 1: The Lore

I think the ending is really good and foreshadowed well in it's own story. I think it is fitting and well told. But it isn't living in its own bubble. It exists in context to a previous story directly connected to it. In the context of the entirety of Elden Ring, it sucks.

If we were just dropped in the Shadow Realm and the main game didn't exist, it would be really, REALLY good. The problem arises when also having the context of who Miquella was in the base game. His motivations in the DLC retcon the motivations from the lore of the base game. And the retcon is worse. The thing that made him fascinating was that he was the only compassionate character among Marika's children, the only one who didn't care about petty power plays because he was focused on helping people and helping his sister. That it is revealed he is just as shallow and self-centered as the rest, so much as to be willing to endanger his sister in exchange for a consort after all the lore surrounding how he wanted to help her, takes away the facets that made him unique.

This may also contribute to why there are two general camps of people who like or don't like how Miquella is portrayed. There have been a couple of years between the original game and now. Memories of the original game's lore--if people even read those particular bits of item descriptions in the first place--have had time to fade.

However, I acknowledge that item descriptions in Elden Ring intentionally have author biases. It could be said that every Miquella-related item description was told from the perspective of someone bewitched. That would make a lot of sense.

So in the end, this also is a personal preference. I think that Miquella turning out to be a brat who will sacrifice his sister for his consort is much less interesting than him being motivated to do bad things for his sister.

This leads into the overlap between pure lore discussion and mechanics.

Part 2: I CAN'T FUCKING SEE

The last boss fight is shit. Part of what convinced people that the leaks were fake, not considering lore implications, is that many people looked at the attacks that were happening and judged them to be bad.

As someone with a passing understanding of editing animations and moves in a game, something that can be done with little modding skill to create a new enemy is to use existing animations and add new effects to them. People were convinced the fight was fake because of how many moves looked similar to ones from previous FromSoft bosses with lightning effects glued on. I cannot speak to the alleged copied animations in this fight, since I don't have experience with every FromSoft game, but I don't actually think reusing old bosses and animations is inherently a bad thing. The real complaint was that it looked to be both reused animations and extra effects.

Stretch new textures over existing enemies, increase the speed of their attacks, and then add events to those attacks that spawn a bunch of effects like explosions, or lightning bolts. These are all things I could do with my limited knowledge. These are the things that some mods have done, and have gotten ridiculed for. The ridicule is because doing that demonstrates a shallow understanding of what makes a fight not just hard, but fun.

I'm no master of boss design myself, but I can say with confidence that spamming incredibly long attack chains containing effects that blind the player and prevent them from seeing the next move in the chain is bad game design. Something that has been established as an unspoken but understood rule in souls-genre games is that you should be able to dodge an attack while standing point blank in front of the enemy. Whether this is by rolling, jumping, or running away, you know what's happening from seeing the start of the enemy's animation, and you should be able to escape being hit by the attack. I also argue that by this metric, Waterfowl Dance is a badly designed move, but I digress.

Waterfowl Dance is one move in an otherwise stellar boss fight.

In the DLC final fight, I. can't. see.

The screen is covered in lightning for at least 1/3rd of the battle, often making dodging a game of guess and hope. I 100% acknowledge that I was not good at that fight, and that many of the attacks that hit me were dodge-able if I'd learned them more. But some of them were chains of attacks that demanded I blindly learn a random rhythm of button presses. On account of all the lightning from the previous attack hiding the next swing.

One of the things I actually did like about the fight was the grab being a guaranteed 2HKO regardless of health values. It would have been a great gimmick on a better fight. Where I had a better probability of seeing it so I could dodge it.

I also liked the warp-in speed effects of the boss jumping in, although such warps felt very buggy.

Were the lightning effects transparent or otherwise did not obscure the battle so terribly, I wonder what kind of fight it would actually be. Maybe the attack chains only feel unreasonable to dodge to me because I cannot see what is happening in them. It is possible that the fight itself is just bad, and the lightning is, just like in a bad mod, being used as a crutch to hide a very boring, simple moveset.

But it is impossible for me, in the game's current state, to imagine how that fight might play.

Because I can't see shit.

Part 3: The Remembrance

Turning in the remembrance and a duplicate of it just to end up with a total of 3 Radahn swords I think really shows the lack of creativity under the lightning. That is what the essence of the DLC final boss distills down to: 2 variations of a sword we already have.

If the fight had been something COMPLETELY different, perhaps we would have gotten something interesting from Miquella's side of the pair. Something that bewitches a struck enemy? I don't know.

The last fight was a spectacle, but only due to all the fancy effects that it vomited everywhere. Remove them, and I suspect there exists an uninspired base.

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

[charlotte-official]

4/15/24 - 4/25/24

THE STEAMBIRD

a/n: ahhhhh I am horrible at keeping up with the schedule I set for myself. HOPEFULLY, however, I'll be able to do better from here on out- especially since summer break is coming up soon!!

headlines: house of the hearth has no rejects, go away il dottore. red haired winery owner is not your daddy. legal advisor helps gay exorcist come out to parents. boys who live with wolves and cat girls are stinky, dawn winery owner says. light of ksharewar angers “the horde” for denying homosexuality. artifacts make super goose, harbinger overthrown.

written by @charnverite

HOUSE OF THE HEARTH HAS NO REJECTS, GO AWAY IL DOTTORE

WARNING: IL DOTTORE IS NOT A LEGITIMATE DOCTOR YOU WANT TO BE SENDING YOUR CHILDREN TO GET CHECKED UP. THIS IS A FORMAL WARNING FROM THE STEAMBIRD. PLEASE DO NOT TRY TO SEEK HIM OUT EXPECTING MIRACLES AND CANDY.

On April 23, Il Dottore asked Arlecchino for the House of the Hearth's rejects, to which she swiftly declined. What transpired was a small argument between the Fatui Harbingers, Il Dottore throwing petty insults here and there before giving up and deciding to leave Arlecchino alone.

Il Dottore, or the 2nd Fatui Harbinger, is known for his wild, cruel, and sadistic nature. The Doctor is infamous for his experiments, being known to go to inhumane and disgusting degrees. Dottore, in approaching the Knave, Arlecchino, the House of the Hearth's director and 4th Fatui Harbinger, asked for the said "rejects" of her "children." To this, the Knave curtly responded with less than 5 words: "No. ♥️"

"He wanted me to send any "rejects" to him. He planned to experiment on them and then share the results with me." ~Arlecchino, The Knave, 4th Fatui Harbinger. Talking about The Doctor - Statement obtained by the Traveler.

The Doctor found himself to be bewildered to be treated with such a simplistic and dismissive statement, replying "Well fuck you too, you bitch. It would’ve been better if your mother won that fight." Arlecchino would continue to respond quickly and calmly as Dottore continuously shot insults at the woman who called him a cunt once. Sarcastically, Dottore would tell her to die and Arlecchino would tell the man that that is his job. He would then give up, saying he'll leave her children alone.

While the Knave may have been able to bore Il Dottore away by being unresponive to his vulgar insults and taunts, there's no guarantee that the Doctor certainly won't try again. As according to several unnamed witnesses, it's been seen that a mint haired man would approach the House of the Hearth at least once every two weeks. Could the Knave be truly considering his offer or does she remain stagnant in her decision?

ft. @arlecchino-official @dottore-official

RED HAIRED WINERY OWNER: NOT YOUR DADDY

Taking a look at the red haired Diluc Ragvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery, would one think that he is a man with children? Well, obviously not, seeing as the man lives alone in his manor and a face too young to be considered a father at any point in his life. However, on some odd day, one of Diluc's anons, Hug anon, decided to tell the man he was father to various children- though not biological.

A sort of routine between the man and his anonymous friend, is that every some day, the two exchange pleasantries in regards to how the other has been doing, or what they have been doing. A consistent pattern with Ragvindr, however, is that nothing very interesting really ever happens to him. So once again, after a slight argument with his friend, they began to exchange said pleasantries, Diluc once more admitting nothing really happened with him. Hug anon, growing a tad impatient, insisting that surely something must've happened, and Diluc continued to deny such. 

Growing frustrated, the anon persisted asking that if they were to ask someone else- say, his kids or brother("..who you don't acknowledge"). This is what piqued Diluc's interest. He didn't have any kids, after all, so the man was reasonably confused. The anon continued to elaborate, saying that they weren't biological. 

ka"Are you implying that I am either pregnant, gotten someone pregnant, or adopted someone." ~ Diluc Ragvindr, Owner of the Dawn Winery.

The anon continued to tell Diluc, saying that he has "adopted multiple someones whether he has realized it or not." Finally, the anon finally caved and decided to tell who the alleged "children" were, listing off names such as that of the Spark Knight of the Knights of Favonius, Klee, or the Cat's Tail's Bartender, Diona (who  has expressed fervently that she despises the man). Diluc denied the accusation, and Hug anon later told him that he just can't accept his emotional attachments. Diluc then became slightly upset, opting to ignore the anon, who rushed to go "tattle" on him to his adopted brother, Kaeya Alberich.

This, unfortunately, backfired. As the Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius pointed out that the claim was rather baseless, as Diluc didn't even interact with said children on a frequent enough basis to be considered a father figure to any of them. Diona, catching wind of the allegation had quite a bit to say on the matter.

"Ew! Diluc is not even close enough to being called my dad! I wouldn't even let myself get within a 5 mile radius if I could choose, ew... And I already have a daddy so scratch the idea!! It's a not very good one, no offense, but EW!!!" ~Diona Katzlein, Bartender for the Cat's Tail.

  ft. @diluc-official , @kaeya-official , @diona-official

indirect mention (the literal blog was not actually involved). @razor-official ,  @bennett-official , @fischl-official , @klee-official .

LEGAL ADVISOR HELPS GAY EXORCIST COME OUT TO PARENTS

It's no secret that the pale haired exorcist, Chongyun of Liyue, is a homosexual. The guy has stated it various times, and unlike Sumeru's Light of Ksharewar, he openly accepts it. ...However, the exception to his open acceptance of sexuality is his parents. With the help of his friend and famous legal advisor, Yanfei, the two scheme and try to lay out a plan to help him come out to his parents.

Chongyun, in desperation, made a statement clearly crying for help, saying that if his family asked again whether he's gotten a partner or not he may just run away to Fontaine to become a potato farmer. Yanfei, friend and "professional bullier" to Chongyun, asked if the exorcist didn't already have a partner, as she was under the impression he did. (She tends to tease him about having a boyfriend, though never names who.) Chongyun denies this and Yanfei begins throwing accusations at the poor exorcist.

With his head in his hands, the exorcist swiftly ignores the legal advisor's questions and explains that his parents don't know anything about his interest in males and that he's scared to tell them about his "swinging the other way." From there, Yanfei attempted to ask Chongyun about the scope of his situation, trying to formulate how he could tell his parents of his situation. Chongyun wasn't very eager about this, asking Yanfei anxiously if his parents really did need to know. However, Yanfei rebutted that if he didn't do it, his parents would begin asking for grandchildren and where his girlfriend or spouse.

Chongyun responded that his parents were already doing as such and asked why it sounded like she had experience in this sort of scenario. Yanfei admitted that her parents didn't know yet and they would ask if she had a boyfriend yet.

"there is no experience a girl just knows ok well actually my parents send letters asking if I have a boyfriend yet and I just send a blank piece of paper that says nothing except 'idk'LISTEN I JUST THINK JTS FUNNY TO SEND THEM BLANK PAPERS LIKE THAT" ~Yanfei, Legal Advisor from Liyue.

"LISTEN I JUST THINK JTS FUNNY TO SEND THEM BLANK PAPERS LIKE THAT" ~Yanfei, Legal Advisor from Liyue.

It turned out, that Yanfei's secret was sending her parents basically blank pieces of paper to avoid the question, to which Chongyun mused, asking if he could try that himself. Yanfei pointed out that it wouldn't work since he lives near his parents. Chongyun admitted that his travels around Teyvat were mostly because he wanted to avoid his parents. So alas, the two friends began discussing how Chongyun could come out of his parents while simultaneously arguing whether he had a boyfriend or not. Chongyun continued to deny as such, saying that he'd never lie to Yanfei. She retorted back that he lied when Xiangling ate one of the pages in her law book.

The two ended up agreeing that Yanfei could help introduce the idea of homosexuality to the exorcist's parents so that all he would need to say is that he was gay. And with that, the Yanfei set off with Chongyun to help get himself uncloseted. How did his parents react? Well, stay subscribed to the Steambird to find out in the future!

ft. @yanfei-official @chongyun-official indirect. @xiangling-official

BOYS WHO LIVE WITH WOLVES AND CAT GIRLS ARE STINKY, DAWN WINERY OWNER SAYS

Diluc Ragnvindr, was asked a question. Who is the stinkiest person in Mondstadt? Diluc, to this, answered immediately, Razor, from Wolvendom. The user denied this answer and asked him to name another person.

"Well he's kinda homeless... So name someone in the city or Springvale." ~user

To this, Diluc began to be more reluctant to answer the question, mumbling that he was actually thinking about Diona, bartender from the Cat's Tail. The user, appalled, asked him why, which he answered was because she smelled like gerbil cages.

ft. diluc-official

indirect: diona-official , razor-official

LIGHT OF KSHAREWAR ANGERS "THE HORDE" FOR DENYING HOMOSEXUALITY

In regards to gossip surrounding Sumeru's Light of Ksharewar, Teyvat continues to speculate the man is a homosexual. The General Mahamatra, being known for his serious nature and horrible jokes, told a joke about the Acting Grand Sage, Alhaitham, about hating pork. To this, the Light of Ksharewar, Kaveh, replied he hates Alhaitham. The rest of Sumeru seemed to disagree.

On a particularly quiet day in Sumeru City, Cyno, the General Mahamatra decided to share another one of his infamous jokes, "Why does no one in Sumeru eat pork? because they All-hait-ham". Kaveh, Light of Ksharewar, catching wind of this, commented that he hates the Alhaitham. Cyno immediately called Kaveh out, calling him a liar, Kaveh arguing back that Cyno can't just throw around assumptions like that(with horrible spelling). Zandik, a scholar, also agreed with the General Mahamatra. The Light of Ksharewar frantically rushed to explain his stance, arguing against the scholar with even worse spelling.

"And here we see a human adult displaying what is deemed 'queer' behavioral traits. Note how the text rapidly goes into 'keysmash' territory and transitions to an 'all-caps' mode. These are key signs of a homo sapiens in distress or in a state of intense emotional responses attributed to overly positive emotions rather than negative. It is best not to further distress the individual lest they alert The Horde. And woe betide any who dare to alert The Horde." ~Dendro Dragon Sovereign, Apep

Apep, Sumeru's Dragon Sovereign, commented on the architect's behavior, much like that of a scientist studying a specimen on a documentary. In regards to Apep's last two sentences, Kaveh found himself confused on who the mysterious "Horde" was. Apep said nothing besides that the lesbians would eat him alive.

ft. @kaveh-official , @general-mahamatra-cyno-official , @zandik-official , @dendro-dragon-apep

SUPER GOOSE TERRORIZES SURROUNDINGS, OVERTHROWS HARBINGER

Did you know the Fatui, an infamous organization in Snezhnaya, has a pet goose? Meet Cecil, the Fatuus goose who was given artifacts by Sumeru's Dragon Sovereign, Apep? Unbeknownst to the goose, she gained immense power and began to terrorize her surroundings.

When Apep spotted the goose trying to pick up a giant claymore with her beak, an amusing thought was brought to the dragon's mind. So alas, naturally they would give the goose ancient artifacts which withhold elemental energy that can boost one's battle performance. With the artifact set being gifted to the goose, Apep sent her off with a boost in physical strength. However, it turns out that the goose was already relatively powerful to begin with! Cecil, as shown through previous interactions is adept with a sword and various other weapons, which she uses to terrorize others. In fact, it was found by the Traveler that the goose posessed a delusion!

In later developments, it was uncovered that the goose had dueled with the 11th Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia. It has been led to believe that the delusion the goose has acquired was from none other then that of beating Tartaglia in said duel! Additionally, the goose has gone as far as to challenge the Traveler to a fight and bite ferociously at Diluc Ragnvindr, Dawn Winery owner, and il Dottore segment, Epsilon. (Who is seemingly... acquainted with Ragvindr despite the redhead being known for his dislike towards the Fatui.)

Despite the goose's aggression towards most, the exceptions to Cecil's ferocity are that of a puppet with the sigil of the Electro Archon and a mermaid from Fontaine. As studied, the bird seems to hold a sort of affection for her puppet friend, Kabukimono, and mermaid pal, Niananian.

In the end, while this Fatui member goose may be simply just a, well, goose, she is a force to be reckoned with! Step with caution, dear readers, because you may want to be wary of geese! You may never know which one has Verdant Blessings of Chaos from the Dendro Dragon Sovereign!

ft. @goose-of-the-fatui , dendro-dragon-apep , @snezhnayain-carrot-top , @not-the-darknight , @segment-epsilon , @stelliferousduo , @thewanderingpuppet , @purple-scales-and-tales

[letsgetrowdy43]

Sibling quarrels—

Request: We need a blurb or a fic about Sunny and Jack not speaking to each other…certainly not surprised that Jack would sleep with her best friend.

Au Masterlist!!

Sunny stood quietly just around the corner of the hallway leading to all the Hughes children's bedrooms. Her jaw dropped as she peered around the corner to see Jack leaning in to kiss Evelyn, the girl dodged his romances, her hands pressed against his chest, trying to push him away before she did something she regretted

"I can't," she said weakly as Jack's face dropped, his grip on her hip tightened as his free hand tucked her hair behind her ear, "I can't do that to Sunny J, not again," the girl's tone was on the edge of giving in to the urge, her eyes tracing over Jack's lips as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Sunny's vision blurred as her hand covered her mouth to stop her jagged breaths. It was like watching her worst nightmare unfold right in front of her eyes, Jack's hands all over her closest friends, staring at her with not even a hint of guilt or care that he was putting a wedge in her friendship

"She doesn't need to know," Jack whispered as his forehead rested against Evie's, "I won't say anything if you don't, I really enjoyed it the first time." Sunny's stomach turned, as she closed her eyes to stop the burning of the tears welling up in them. How long had this been going on for exactly?

His lips chased hers as he tilted her head to kiss her gently, deepening it as he bit down on her bottom lip, her hands moving from his chest up to his curls before falling again to push him away. "It was a bad idea the first time, it was wrong, and it should never have happened," Evelyn detached herself from the boy's hold. "It didn't feel wrong to me?" Jack smirked as she shook her head embarrassed, her cheeks warm from the memories of the whole affair that had taken place only mere days ago. "It feels wrong lying to her Jack."

Evie straightened out the bottom hem of her party top and brushed off the centerman's almost convincing comments as she found her way out of his room and into the hallway where she saw Sunny standing with teary eyes and furrowed brows. Jack walked out hot on her tail to try and convince her one more time, but his eyes widened as he saw the streaks of tears that had rolled down Sunny's cheeks.

"Fuck," Jack whispered as Sunny clamped her jaw shut, shook her head and headed back down to the little party that Ellen was throwing in celebration of her two sons being home during their off-week.

★★★

Quinn knocked on his little sister's door and slipped in as she gave him the go-ahead to enter. A sad look on his face as he stood in the door frame and watched her for a second, soaking in the sadness that she was radiating.

"Mom said you were upset," he said sitting in her desk chair, as she readjusted the way she was sitting to face her oldest brother. "I'm mad at your brother," she said with a frown. "He's only my brother? What did Luke do now?" Quinn laughed at what he assumed to be some petty fight between the two, the usual Sunny and Luke narratives.

"Jack slept with Evie," she blurted out causing Quinn to go wide-eyed, nearly choking on his spit as she crossed her arms over her chest and collapsed back down on her mattress. The oldest Hughes was at a loss for words as he stared at his little sister who was now staring at the ceiling with tears in her eyes before looking at Quinn.

"She was the one person who was completely separate from you guys," she cried into her hands, "my whole life has revolved around you guys and hockey and your careers, and that's fine. But that's all people seem to want me around for, you, and Luke, and Jack!" choked cries left her lips as Quinn moved to lay down on the bed next to her hugging her into his chest as she cried even harder. "Evie was way beyond all of that, she was my only real break from being the Hughes' little sister, I was just Sunny to her," she whispered as her face buried itself in his chest, crying as he held her.

Quinn had no way of consoling her, no words were gonna fix her fragile state, tears soaking his shirt as she slowly lulled herself to sleep.

The house seemed tense that morning, everyone could feel a shift in the air, but no one exactly knew what was about to be unleashed as Quinn quietly left a sleeping Sunny and headed down to where the rest of the Hughes family found themselves relaxing. Quinn smacked Jack up the side of the head, a gasp leaving Ellen's mouth as she placed her mug down on the coffee table, "Quinn!" "I can't believe you did that," Quinn said sternly to Jack who stared guiltily at his hands, not daring to look up, praying that if he ignored Quinn's glare just enough, he could shrivel up into a ball and die without having to have to talk about this in front of his mother and father. "Can we talk about this somewhere else?" he asked looking around the room at all of the Hughes family members except for the youngest.

Quinn let out a laugh at the embarrassment creeping up the middle brother's cheek and then looked at the confusion on his parent's faces, "I'm not saying anything, but you need to apologize to her," he spat before walking out the back door to take a breather.

Jim sat up, brows raised at the middle son, surprised at the anger coming from his normally reserved oldest child, "What did you do, and to whom Jack?" Jack shrugged as he looked at his younger brother whose eyes widened with realization, connecting the dots to all the things that had occurred over the weekend, the tear-eyed Sunny who swore to Luke she was never talking to Jack again, the disappearance of Evelyn early into the previous nights party, and now the guilty Jack.

"holy shit!"

★★★

Ellen and Jim found out a week later after Jack and Quinn flew back to their respective towns, and Luke returned to Ann Arbor. Sunny moped around the house, which raised some major alarms for both of her parents, at first Jim thought it was just cause Sunny was lonesome without her brothers, but to Ellen, it all seemed deeper than that.

"Hey Sunshine," Ellen said knocking on her daughter's door with a snack plate in her hand for the bedridden girl, "you feeling okay," Ellen leaned forward and felt her daughter's forehead to see if maybe all of the melancholy had been due to an illness. "I'm fine," Sunny shrugged as she patted next to her, ushering her mom to sit down with her on the mattress. The girl leaned her head against her mom's shoulder as she took the plate of fruit and little snacks and started to eat the apple slices with peanut butter, smiling as she looked at the little heart-shaped cookies on the plate.

"Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can fix it." Sunny frowned as her mom pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, "it's not really something that can be fixed." "Why don't you invite Evie over for the night? You guys can go down in the basement and binge-watch reality TV shows like you do with her when she's upset," Ellen suggested, not picking up on the way her daughter's brows furrowed at the proposal. "I can't," Sunny sighed, "she slept with Jack," Sunny shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as she continued to eat the fruits in front of her.

Ellen's face dropped as she sat up, "I'm sorry what?" "Y'know what's funny, Quinn had almost the same reaction, but with fewer words," Sunny smiled at how motherly her older brother was. "Evelyn and Jack are seeing each other?" "No, Jack just had sex with my best friend because he can't stand the thought of me having something that isn't his," Sunny smiled and placed the plate on her bedside table as she got up from her bed to grab the remote to her TV from atop her dresser.

Jim chose the wrong second to walk in as Ellen sat with her jaw dropped and Sunny ranted about her inconsiderate brother. "what did Jack do now?" Jim joked as Ellen looked at him, an angry look resting on her face as they filled the man in.

★★★

Evelyn reached out a week later, tears in her eyes as she showed up at the Hughes' front door after Sunny's ballet practice. "I'm the worst," the girl muttered as she stared at her best friend, "I don't even know what I was thinking, I've always seen him as a brother, it was just a lapse of poor judgment," Evie cried as Sunny stood in the doorway. "You slept with my brother Evie, it's not poor judgement, you had sex with my brother and then lied to me," Sunny was not in the mood to deal with this anymore.

She was trying to pull together everything that had upset her over the course of the week and put it out on the table so that Evelyn knew just how badly this had hurt her.

"I forgive you," Sunny said calmly as Evelyn let out a sigh and leaned in to hug her best friend, Sunny's hand stopped her quickly, "I forgive you, but right now I'm mad at you and need space, I will reach out when I'm ready to talk about it," she said calmly as Evelyn nodded and sunny shut the door in her face, the girl returned to her car teary-eyed as Sunny watched her through the living room window.

Sunny stood at the bay window, watching the downpour of rain that hit the panes, arms folded and brows pulled together as she just stared numbly. Ellen softly said Sunny's name as she lifted her blanket up to offer her a spot next to her, so they could snuggle and watch movies instead of dwelling around the house The girl sniffled as she curled up next to her mom, Ellen pressed a kiss to the crown of her daughter's head, "I'm proud of you for setting that boundary," Ellen whispered as Sunny cried even harder, "It'll all pass Sweetheart, just give it some time."

"Has Jack called you at all?" "I haven't talked to Jack in like two weeks," she mumbled into her hands as she wiped away her tears, "and he told Luke he wasn't going to apologize and I needed to get over myself," Sunny's lip quivered as Ellen ran her fingers through her daughter's hair as she let out a huff, "Your son is a bitch" "He is," Ellen mused as she pressed her cheek against the crown of her daughter's head and took a deep breath, "your brother isn't the brightest, he'll come crawling for forgiveness soon enough,"

★★★

"I'm thinking about renting a car for when we are home for Sunny's grad, do you wanna split it with me so we aren't stuck stealing Luke's car all trip" Quinn rambled as Jack placed the phone to his ear, as sighed. "I don't know if I'm going," Jack said, his tone was almost shameful as Quinn's brows furrowed at the stupidity of his answer. "You're not going to our baby sisters grad?" Jack's lips formed a straight line as he found the words to make his excuse sound less stupid than it sounded in his head, "we haven't talked since February, I don't know?"

"You haven't spoken to her since All-Star week? did you even try to apologize?" Jack rolled his eyes "She said she didn't want to talk to me, what was I supposed to do?" Quinn could feel the headache settling behind his eyes as he abandoned his calm composure, "You were supposed to call her and fix what you ruined, like fuck jack, I don't know if you forgot but you slept with her only friend and then left without apologizing, she's dealing with it alone!"

A moment of silence crept up on the brothers as Quinn returned back to sitting in front of his laptop, "figure your shit out, you're embarrassing yourself," Quinn spat angrily as he hung up the phone to deal with the rented car on his own, leaving jack to his thoughts.

★★★

Sunny smiled sadly as she hung her graduation dress and gown on the back of the door, humming along to the Hozier playing over her record players as she flattened out the puffy sleeve of her sage green dress. She maneuvered her way around the room to rummage through her jewellery box, looking for her favourite hoops and rings to complete the look.

A quick knock at the door startled her as she walked over to open it, Jack stood on the other side, an awkward smile on his face as Sunny opened it with a shocked look. "I thought you couldn't make it?" "I wasn't gonna miss your grad Sunny, I'm still your big brother, I'm gonna be here for all of your accomplishments," he sighed as she looked at him with tears now welling in her eyes, his arms opening to let her pull him into a hug.

"You've been a shit big brother this year," she mumbled into his chest as the tears now started for him. "I know," he cried as her hands gripped the soft fabric of his shirt, "I'm so sorry Sun," he mumbled into the crown of her head as she cried harder into his frame.

"What took you so long?" she asked pulling away to wipe the tears from her face as Jack pulled her back in for a second longer, soaking in as much Sunny love that he could for its absence over the past five-ish months Jack shrugged, finally letting her out of his grasp so she could pull herself together, "I don't know, you've never been mad at me so I didn't know how to apologise." "That's such a bullshit response J," she glared and sat on the edge of her bed, ushering him to sit next to her. "I was embarrassed at how bad I fucked up, so I thought if we ignored it, it would go away," he said honestly. Sunny smiled, "you're a fucking idiot," she said as she leaned her head against his arm.

Jack took a shaky breath as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, the guilt in the pit of his stomach slowly lifting as silence took over the room. The last song on the Hozier vinyl ended as Sunny got up to flip it, "What about Evie? Are you guys okay?" "We are okay," Sunny said with a content smile, "I'm still unsettled that you two-" she cringed and shook her at the topic, "but we are okay," she mumbled as Jack nodded.

"I should probably apologize to her," Jack mumbled as Sunny nodded. "Probably," Sunny grinned as Jack hopped up from her bed to go back to greet the rest of their visiting family.

Jack hugged Sunny one last time, "I hated not talking to you," she mumbled Into his chest as he nodded. "Well it's never happening again, I'm gonna do everything in my power to annoy you for the rest of my life, so don't worry," he said swaying her back and forth. "Please do," she said reaching up and ruffling his hair as he squeezed her one last time.

-

-

-

I don't know how I feel about it :/

[onceonafullmoon]

Convos with Rin pt 2

Rin x Gn! Reader

No warnings! Just pure fluff, as with the first one you can read this as purely platonic if you'd like. Part 1 here.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask suddenly.

The breeze blows through where the two of you sit on the bleachers, causing a strand of hair to pull from behind your ear to drift in the breeze.

“I dunno, never thought about it.” Rin replies, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Pfffft– laaaame.” You drag out, snickering mentally at the way his eyebrows crease at the sound.

“Then what’s yours?” He asks.

“Easy!” You say with a grin. “An eldritch horror.”

“I– what?” He questions, his head turning to meet your carefree gaze.

“An eldritch horror.” You repeat.

“Explain?”

“Well, it’s like this: “Oh Cuthulu, harbinger of destruction and insanity, you ask me, a mere mortal, to become one with you for eternity? I’d be honored, o old one.” You say dramatically, crossing your hands along your chest in a dramatic manner as you serenade an imaginary Old One.

“Why the hell would you want that?” 

“I don’t know about you, but near eternal slumber sounds like a delight to me.”

“…god you’re weird.” He says after a while, but his words hold no real weight to them.

“Hey, you talked to me first!” You protest, looking at him in mock offense. “You grabbed the shovel and dug your own grave, don't you forget that.”

“My biggest regret.” Rin says lowly.

“…I wish it was.” You say somewhat wistfully, your eyes briefly glimpsing a bittersweet memory out on the snow.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You say, shaking your head. "How was your game Rinrin?”

“Don’t call me that.” He says curtly.

“Oh okay.”

You sit in silence for a while, taking in the breeze and the distant sounds of children playing before you open up your mouth again.

“How was your game dipshit?”

“You can fuck right off.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have to resort to petty insults if you just admitted you like the nickname.”

“…whatever.” He scowls, turning away from you.

Unfortunately for him, you can see the tint of red on his cheeks.

“Oho? Is that a blush I see? The prince of darkness has feelings? Oh my god they grow up so fast.” You coo out, much to his annoyance.

“I should just leave.”

“But you won’t!”

“…but I won’t.”

“Heh, love you too.” You say with a grin. “You didn’t answer my question though.”

“It was the same as usual.” He relents with a sigh, and the conversation moves from there, flowing like the lazy breeze on that summer day.

[wynnyfryd]

UPDATE: FINISHED IT!!

you can read the full fic here:

preview of my new fic Monsoon Season (in which i saw this tweet and immediately took it so, so personally)

“Harrington, are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie asks as he slams a magazine down in front of Steve, rattling the coffee cup perched on the edge of the little round table.

Monsoon Season, the headline reads. Just who is the man behind America’s hottest new book series?

Steve’s eyes are far too full of mirth for Eddie’s liking. “They think it’s you, don’t they?”

“Of course they think it’s me, you jackass.” Eddie snatches the magazine back, sniffing indignantly as Steve openly laughs at him.

Eddie doesn’t have a workplace nemesis — does his best not to participate in all the petty office politics that go on in the publishing world, thank you very much — but ohhh, boy. If he did. If he did have one, it would be this fucking guy.

Steve fucking Harrington. Former King of Hawkins High, Current Pain in Eddie’s Ass, and not even in the fun way.

See, three years ago Eddie finally got his first big break — topped charts, stole hearts, and broke records with his swashbuckling adventure series aimed at the 10-13 year old crowd. He hadn’t ever really planned to become a children’s author, but hey, turns out he’s great at spinning a tale that a fifth grader can’t put down. Kids love him, parents love him, and now—

Well, now, parents hate him. Are two seconds away from calling for his fucking head. And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?

One group of ravenous mommy blogger watchdogs becomes unwaveringly convinced that beloved children’s author Eddie Munson is secretly writing filthy gay erotica under the pen name Freddie Monsoon, and now his whole career is in jeopardy.

It’s not even a good pen name.

“A source close to Munson assures us this scorching erotica can’t be his doing,” the article in Eddie’s claw-like grip reads. “‘He’s stupid,’ our source tells us with a bright laugh and a wink, ‘but not that stupid.’”

You know who is that fucking stupid, though?

“You’re still here?” Steve asks mildly while Eddie glares some more.

He knows the pen name belongs to Steve, because one, Chrissy’s a gossip and told him the second she found out, and two, King Shithead himself told Eddie to his face. Gloated about it in this very coffee shop, actually; smirked over the lip of a chai latte while angry mothers protested with homemade signs on the sidewalk outside of the building.

“Yes, I’m still here! Why the hell are you doing this to me, man?”

Does he know how many angry emails Eddie’s gotten in the last hour alone? Seriously, what the fuck?

Steve slides another glance his way — sideways through hooded lids, some sadistic delight gleaming just below the veneer. “Because I like it when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and then he stands to collect his things. “See you tomorrow, Munson.”

[redcoralpot]

Smudged (4)

Rodrick Heffley x FTM Punk Reader

Warnings: NSFW joke and mentions of homophobia

Summary: The idea was bull, but it was worth a shot, you supposed. That is, if Rodrick can stay focused.

-

“I need you to do a favor for me,” Rodrick kicked his foot against the asphalt.

You could still hear the joyful chatter of children reuniting with their parents in the background, cars speeding past you, causing strands of hair to come loose, “No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“I’ve heard enough from Heather.”

His eyes snapped towards you, wide and attentive, for once, “What’d she say?”

“Obviously not something positive.”

Rodrick shrugged, his attitude uncaring once again. You huffed and turned away, fully planning on leaving him alone on that sidewalk. However, you only were able to take a few steps forward before a hand roughly grabbed at your back. Cursing under your breath, you whirled around to face the boy, squinting.

“Hey, hey, I’m being serious. I need your help, here, dude.”

“You could’ve fooled me;” you rolled your eyes, but didn’t remove his hand, “I won’t do your homework for you. Leave that in middle school, with Greg.”

Rodrick’s hand slid down your arm before he pulled it to his chest, “Actually– fuck, nevermind. Okay, that won’t work on you, but you’re a valuable resource with this!”

“And how is that?”

Instead of answering, he took a step closer, and waved a slip of paper in your face. You flinched back, allowing it to fall from his fingertips into your open palm. Rodrick was silent, snickering, and tapping his foot as he gleefully watched you crack it apart. Inside were printed words; his project slip, awfully crumpled. Two words, three if you count the category. Music; punk subculture.

He smirked, “It’s a research project. What better way than to talk to the only punk guy in town?”

“If you’re so sure, then what about the collaboration rule?”

“C’mon, nobody’ll ever know!” You could’ve sworn he almost whined, moving back.

You said, “I won’t fail ‘cause you’re reckless; I’m sure there’s another punk guy somewhere.”

Rodrick made a face, “There’s none that I know.”

“That’s too bad for you, then,” you replied. Kicking a rock towards him, you backed up, towards the road. He huffed, taking steps forward as much as you moved away. You could tell that he was getting desperate for your help.

“How about a trade? I help with yours, you help with mine!”

You paused, causing the drummer to smack face first into you, knocking your foreheads together. The two of you hissed, with Rodrick rubbing the wounded spot with a scrunched up, pained face. When he finally let his hand fall away, you could see an angry red spot in its place, and yours probably did not look much better.

“I’ll think about it.”

He snickered, hitting your arm, “Hah, think.”

“Heather was right, you’re a cornball.”

“Fuck you,” he groaned.

You shook your head in response to his complaints, “Deal with it, Heffley. I have your number, I can harass you with it all day.”

A small boy, about Holly’s height, if not shorter, appeared in the distance. He was running towards the both of you fast– well, as fast as a middle schooler can go on those little legs. Beside him, a chubbier, ginger child was struggling to keep up as his counterpart shouted, bringing his hands up to his mouth. Rodrick grew tenser, a kind of grumpier expression clouding his features. Ah, that would be Greg. Chuckling, you made the decision to instead flee the scene, not wanting to be a part of their petty sibling rivalry.

“What do you want, turd?” Rodrick sneered, gesturing beside him, “I was in the middle of something.”

“You promised you’d take Rowley and I home!”

“That means you have to be–” He took in the blank spot where you once were, “...patient.” “I’m gonna kill you the next time Mom’s not home, literally kill you!”

-

You fished your flip phone out of your pocket, slouching on your pillows with your socks only half-off. When the list of conversations popped up on the small, bright screen, you paused. Were you seriously contemplating this? Directly going against the rules to work with Rodrick of all people; you might as well have cheated with Daniel and that would have been a better idea. However– you shifted in your bed, kicking your socks across the room– Daniel knows nothing about drums. In fact, he talks about flutes more than any other instrument, as girly as his father calls it. Rodrick was better at it than anyone else in this shitty little town, so how bad could it truly be?

Against your better judgment, you typed in the number pattern printed on the invitation slip into a new contact, naming it accordingly. You held your breath, typing your very first message; “This is Heather’s brother.”

Your phone was smashed into your sheets and you hugged your pillow to your chest, peeking over at the device. It took a few moments, minutes really, before it vibrated against the cloth. Yet, you didn’t reach for it at first. This was your last chance, your last chance to refuse this and possibly not ruin your entire senior record, and so you hesitated. Curiosity got the better of you, though. “Trade or no trade?” 

Taking a deep breath, you responded, “Trade. Come to my house.”

Heather would be so mad at you for this, you thought as you set aside your phone to the side and hopped up. Most of the time would be spent in your room, and you would hate for it to be as messy as it is now when a guest is over, despite the fact that Rodrick seemed to lack standards for hygiene. Perhaps he only showered once a week, if you were lucky. Regardless, you half-heartedly made your bed and dumped a few garments of clothes that had littered your carpet down a hamper, hidden in your closet. Your violin and electric guitar were both leaning carefully on your wall, safe from harm in their cases. Your desk was scattered with markers, laces, and patches that you had neglected sewing onto your jacket. It wouldn’t hurt to stack them neatly, you reasoned.

Your room still had a certain chaos to it despite your efforts, and really, you weren’t looking to fix it. It had personality, it reflected you, just as Heather’s more tidy space reflected her personality. Books lined the shelves underneath your desk; one that you didn’t spend too much money on. A door, glass, a mat, and two near-height shelves as support gave you one easily; you refused to let your mother buy you a “proper” desk. The works were mostly fiction or topics regarding punk history, so you selected a spare few that you did not care too much about in order to lend them to Rodrick.

About ten minutes in, halfway through the time you expected Rodrick to arrive, you freshened up your makeup in the bathroom mirror, paying extra attention to your eyeliner. Just to one up the guy. You smudged it with your pointer finger, before lining your waterline with a matching black. Even so, you almost poked your eye as you were finishing the right side of your face when you heard a clang!

A faint, “Uh– shit, my fault.”

You lifted the lace curtains with a non-blackened finger to peer outside, only to be greeted by the sight of the devil’s gleaming white van, a fresh dent in the front. An angelic statue that had decorated your family’s driveway was now laying on the ground; a puzzled Rodrick above it. A sigh forced itself from your throat. Your eyes followed his figure as he awkwardly tried fixing the abused statue, before sauntering up to the door with a fist raised. It didn’t take long to bound downstairs and open the front door before he abused that, too.

“We have a doorbell, you know?” you stated, unimpressed, “Come in.”

He whistled a short tune as he took in the rooms around him, “So this is Heather’s house. I was starting to think I’d never get to see it!”

“You aren’t here to see Heather, you’re here for research. Don’t talk to her, don’t listen to her, and don’t even look at her; she’ll choke you out and then me.”

Rodrick bent his head in order to see through the crack in her bedroom doorway, but you took a hold of his ear and pulled him away; “Okay, okay, fuck!”

You dragged him through your own door, where you shut it and finally released the drummer to let him take in his surroundings. Pushing him forward slightly with the back of your elbow, you lean on your bed, taking a good look at him. He flicked his eyes towards you– probably scared you were going to rip his ear off if he moved. A humorous expression to see on such an arrogant guy, sure, but you stayed put, watching him. Rodrick must have taken that as a thumbs up, as he was immediately attracted to your desk. He chose to shuffle through your pins first.

“Woah, you made these?”

“No.”

He read the miniature printed names, “Do they mean anything?”

“They’re bands.”

“Well, yeah, I totally recognized them.” He made a show of pointing out his eye makeup.

“Sure–”

He interrupted you, something seemingly catching his eye, “Wait, is that a…”

“Ah, crap, I thought it was something else.” It was a magazine, something you didn’t care enough about to hide away, and he seemed to snicker about it, “If it was, it’d be full of girls.”

You looked over his shoulders, before snatching it out of his hands, much to his offense, “I’m not into that kind of stuff.”

“You sure? I have one you can borrow if you really need it!”

“You’re weird,” you huff, throwing a small book at him.

“Positive?”

“Get to work.”

Rodrick finally sat on your bed, overly casual. You plopped the pile that contained your collection of punk media in his lap, much to his dismay. Christ, if this was still just some big scheme to get his dick wet, you swore you would stuff a leaf in his mouth.

The first book was all about the origins and meaning of such a subculture; the most important subject for his research. You had hoped he valued that, but as he squinted at the text, his eyebrows pushed together.

He tossed it back into your lap, and you threw it back, like some sort of cursed hot potato, “Dude, I don’t know some of those words!”

“How have you gotten to senior year like this?”

“Can’t you just summarize it?” It landed between your legs, to which you looked at him unimpressed.

Rodrick seemed put off by this, looking down at your lap and back up, “Uh, do you have anything to take notes with?”

“...No.”

“Jesus Christ, take a pen off my desk; take the whole book, why don’t you!”

“That’s fine with me.”

You cursed under your breath, even praying to whatever deity was out there to smite the boy in front of you with all their might. You flipped a page, to the first chapter, sneaking a glimpse at him from behind your eyelashes. Rodrick’s foot was wagging back and forth from its position under his left thigh, not even aware of your dilemma. Or he could be painfully aware of it, and just wanted to push more of your buttons by acting innocent. Yeah, that sounds more like him, you thought as you cleared your throat.

“Punk style started gaining headway, aka popularity, in the mid-‘70s in America, with the UK catching the spark a little later on.”

He sneered, “Hah, caught the spark.”

“Knowing that you know enough about history to make a nerd joke horrifies me.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he huffed.

“Sure,” you continued, “anyway, music was a huge part of this new era, but not the only thing included in it.”

Rodrick said, “I can see that.”

“It had fashion, dance, even a mindset to it.”

Glancing at your boots, currently collecting dust in the closet, you searched your mind for items you personally knew were iconic. He had seen you in your clothes, but based on his earlier comments, Rodrick knew next to nothing about the articles. He did not need to know the very deep parts of punk fashion, not for that project. Truth be told, you honestly didn’t want him to know the codes and such related to more personal matters. That knowledge was only for people who would understand, and you lacked that faith with Rodrick.

“You’ve seen me in my boots, leather jacket, and such, yeah?”

“Duh. That sparkly belt, too.” The drummer tapped his temple.

“It’s spiked.”

He shrugged, “Potato, patata–”

Rodrick was thankfully interrupted by a muffled shout from your mother, who slammed the front door shut, “I brought home dinner!”

“Fuck, yeah, I’m hungry,” he cheered, hopping off the bed and down the stairs before you had the opportunity to tackle him.

“Ah, crap.”

Heather peeked out of her bedroom, slowly turning to look at you with a withering look in her eyes. Your shoulders sagged as you saw a snarl take its form on her lips; defeat.

-

[sxffrxn]

When love strikes OP81

An Oscar Piastri x reader, enemies to lovers story

Part One Part Two

Summary: Oscar Piastri and Y/N L/N have a long-lasting feud, nobody knows why. Do they themselves know why?

Warnings: swearing, Oscar and Y/N literally act like children, grammar mistakes, messy

Word Count: 1.4k

~~

Arriving back at home was like a blessing from the Gods. As soon as Y/N stepped foot in her apartment, her coat was thrown off as she leaped onto her bed, luggage forgotten. That night, she had the best sleep she had in a very long time, despite still being in her travelling clothes.

When she woke up and checked her phone she found her instagram was blowing up. Panic coursed itself through her body. Was she cancelled online? Has someone made up some bullshit to spread about her?

But, alas, it was her interview. It had gone viral. Some people were speculating about Oscar and Y/N’s relationship, and some had compiled an entire 30 minute video of the pair being downright unpleasant to each other. Although Y/N did in fact watch the whole video - in 3x speed, she wasn’t watching a 30 minute long video - she has to admit some of these were a stretch, I mean there was one scene where they simply walked past each other, opposite sides of the walkway may I add.

Both Lamborghini and Mclaren’s PR teams were going to have a field day with this one.

About an hour later, Y/N got a call from her assistant, Gemma,

“What have you done Y/N, the internet is in shambles!” she started.

“No, Hi how are you? Are you well rested? Why yes I am thank you for asking.” Y/N replied.

“Y/N I don’t think you understand the severity of this. We have had Mclaren on the phone all morning trying to sort this mess out.”

“Gem, I replied the way I was supposed to, I can’t think of another way I could have handled that without it turning into a brawl!” Y/N answered in a less polite tone than she should have used.

“Y/N” she started, “I know you handled it the best way you could. I’m sorry this is just so stressful. I don't know how to say this..”

“Say what? Surely it's not that bad. I mean they’re not kicking me off the team are they? I’ve only done one race an-“ she was cut off by Gemma again.

“They want you to act as though you are civil. Friends even. And I’m not talking, not sending glares at the other. I mean they want you to do all sorts of things with him.” Y/N’s heart dropped, she could not do this. Did this tiny altercation have to resort to this? No. But was Y/N a petty bitch? Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Gem, I’m not pretending to date him or anything like that, I’ve read a lot of books with that in and I hate it.”

“No, Y/N, you do not have to pretend to date Oscar Piastri,” she let out a sigh of relief, “You will, however, have to go to many events with him to show you guys are really just friends off track and rivals on.”

“Ughhhhh. Do I have to? Like what’s the significance of this?” Y/N tried to bargain.

“The significance is,” Gemma started, “not fucking up the internet more than you have - and yes, again, I know it’s not your fault for the interviewer’s question but we need to uphold the reputation of this team. Unfortunately women are always the problem in the media’s eyes.”

Y/N sighed rolling around on her bed and taking a big sip of water,

“Fine, but don’t expect me to apologise to anyone for anything. I hardly did anything wrong!” Maybe the last part was a little fib but Y/N stood her ground.

—

It was media day for the Saudi Arabian grand prix. Y/N sat in her hotel room completing a round of sudoku on her phone - her newest favourite past-time. She was waiting for a knock at her door from Gemma to explain the plan of action for today. Today commenced the ‘sort shit out with Oscar bloody Piastri’ plan, she was given minute details about how they would be miraculously saving each of their reputations. I mean, Y/N could hardly see the problem with rivalry on track, I mean look at Pierre Gasly and Esteban Ocon, they had some issues - Y/N thinks so anyway - and nobody batted an eye, well I guess they weren’t as hostile with each other as Piastri and Y/N are.

A knock resounded through Y/N hotel room.

“Coming!” she went to the door and was met with the smiley face of Gemma,

“Gem you’re,” she checked her watch, “20 minutes early!”

“Yet you are all ready, what happened to ‘Little Miss constantly 10 minutes late’?” Gemma responded.

“Shitting bricks Gem.” Y/N patted Gemma on the back as she stepped out of her room and locked the door, “Let’s get this over and done with, yeah?”

Gemma filled Y/N in on the plan for the start of the day, Y/N would meet Oscar in the foyer of the hotel, have a few laughs and then head to the paddock, they would re-evaluate from there.

Y/N could feel herself gagging as she stepped into the main entrance, yes she was being very dramatic, but this was more stressful than telling her mum she had forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer to defrost when specifically asked to. Oscar turned and scowled as Y/N walked up to him, this was going to be way harder than he thought. Gemma gave Y/N a firm pat on the back to usher her towards the aussie. They had fake paparazzi stationed just outside the hotel to get the best angles of their positive encounter. When Y/N felt a hand on her back, it was like a switch had been flicked and she grinned at Oscar as though they were best friends, she really channelled the 9 in her drama GCSE for this one moment.

She waved at Oscar as she got closer and he got the memo to sort himself out and act. They began walking out the door and to the shared car they would be taking (Y/N screamed into her hands and nearly punched a hole in the lift door when she found out they'd be car sharing), Oscar opened the door for Y/N to climb into the back seat before he got in. Both Oscar and Y/N had practically begged Gemma to be the peacekeeper and sit between them, but she claimed that she ‘needed to sit in the front because she gets motion sickness’ Y/N called out her shit and said that they had spent millions of car rides together in the back.

It was hard to not grab Oscar by the throat and throttle him into next week but Y/N kept her composure - and kept her hands to herself. It was almost peaceful at first, if you ignore the massive amounts of tension between the two, but that all soon changed as soon as Oscar opened his mouth,

“Do you know how long the car ride is?” he asked, directed to literally anyone in the car who could give him an answer.

“Longer than your F1 debut race” Y/N muttered under her breath, she did mean for him to hear it as she thought it was a pretty good joke. Turns out, it's probably not best to joke about race finishes - in this case, race not finishes - with someone who despises you.

“What the fuck, that’s not funny” he said turning to her.

Y/N stayed staring at her phone but let out a little giggle at his response. Oscar huffed and practically threw himself back into his seat.

“It’s about a 45 minute drive, Oscar” The driver, Kim (also Oscar’s performance coach) answered for him.

‘45 minutes with this bellend’ Y/N said in her mind before rolling her eyes and rotating her phone to watch a show on Netflix.

Oscar was in the same boat ‘No fucking way am I spending 45 minutes with her’ he thought to himself.

A loud ding sound echoed through the back of the car,

“Are you playing sudoku? What are you a fucking child?” Oscar commented. Y/N just scowled at him and stuck her tongue out. Oscar gave her a pointed look, then she realised, huffed, and pushed herself further into her seat.

This was going to be one hell of a car ride.

A/N: Hey guys sorry for the late update, I didn’t drop off the face of the earth. I’ve been so stressed out with schoolwork recently so updates will be scarce 😬 Thank you guys for all the support on the first part I literally love you all!!! Still working out the ropes to tumblr but i promise I will get there in the end.

Taglist: @chiliwhore (comment or lmk to be added i guess!!)

[moii3]

NEW GEN EPISODE 6- LITTLE REVIEW

!!MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD, OBVIOUSLY!!

I've been waiting for an episode that fully took place outside of the work setting. And I've been kind of hyped for this since i saw VIP people share some illustrations (i always spoil some little things for myself but thats ok). I played this on my computer so, i forgot to took some screenshots of some of my fav moments like i wanted but, i think i'll remember to do that for my next review.

What i really like about new gen is how casual it feels without any forced drama or out of pocket moments. It's just a bunch of coworkers that get along just fine and have silly goofy times together. I think it fits better to the current MCL audience (considering our ages) and it feels more real. This episode captured that feeling pretty well.

As much as i would like to see the drama with Jason chasing Ysaline around the mirror maze thingy (i dont fucking know what you guys call that in english) and Ysaline getting saved by other LIs like a lost puppy, im determined to go towards Thomas' round and i wasn't dissapointed.

I loved everyone's outfits, not Ysaline's choices tho (just felt a little too millennial core for me but that's just my taste). I loved all the little mini games, i loved the little dumb debate they made about if Danica's cats are really considered "children'' right in front of her, i loved how we had an option to devour food until we got sick (literally), i loved how Elenda managed to get mortified in every single ride, i loved how petty Jason was with Danica and his little assistant..

As for the special moments with Thomas, i think i feel more satisfied with them compared to other episodes since obviously, they were just starting to get to know eachother. In this episode Thomas tries to calm Ysaline down very sweetly during the mega-catapult ride even as she basically almost rips his arm out from holding it too tightly. He holds her hands, tries reasurring her and shows a little bit of a soft side. I found it pretty cute and it was worth the gems.

Also the dialogues with him and the fortune teller lady was kinda funny. Her telling him he will fall in love but be miserable and lonely kinda threw me off. I would love to have an oppurtunity of it being a love triangle type shit with him, Ysaline and Jason. We'll see.

Was it kinda annoying to have a bunch of waiting times? Yeah. Is Elenda really cute? yes. Do i think Brune ate this episode? yes. Do i think Danica had a right to leave them for Golddreamz? Yeah, i think. Still brutal tho.

For real tho, i think my only criticsm would be to have more oppurtunity to have friendship building moments with others without our LI.

I'm excited for the apartment hunting episode. They fr gonna make us play pretend to be together with one of the LIs.

Until next time,

[flowering-thought]

Finally I can get the man that has plagued my mind off my brain and into my OC's. He's been in there banging around my brain for a week now and I can't get him out <3

Though his name took me a while cause I kept changing my mind 🤡

Not edited

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, gore, descriptions of gore, shitty attempt at medical care,

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Dante Morelli

First Meeting + Headcannons

Dante Morelli is a man well-known and well sought after. Whether it's to fuck him or kill him that is. A major CEO of a tech company that's just a cover for the shady mob dealings they do.

Not even most of the employees know about it. It's well hidden and only known by the people apart of the mob itself.

Unfortunately, he doesn't keep anyone by his side. The way he was raised didn't allow for petty emotions and selfish thoughts. And even after the man, he calls his father passed he couldn't shake that at all.

But who knows what fate has in store for him huh?

Unfortunately, one late night after Dante wanders the streets after a dealing, he was caught by an enemy and gunned down. Luckily he managed to get away but barely by going down several back alleys and hiding near some old boxes and garbage left by neighbors.

He's bleeding out and he lost his phone while running. He should have installed a GPS in his watch but he didn't and he regrets it for sure.

His thoughts become mudded and cloudy, barely awake when he hears humming and what sounds like a bag dropping to the floor. He feels hands on his wound and his immediate response is, "Don't call anyone."

He can't risk the cops or anyone finding out about this. And he can hear the hesitation in the voice as what turns out to be you returning from a late-night trip to the grocery store.

You definitely weren't anticipating a man with a gun wound on his shoulder to even be conscious and when you heard his confession to not call anyone you didn't know if your conscious would let you leave him.

So despite the voice in your head screaming you to not drag him to your place, you did the opposite and used his other shoulder to prop him up and let his legs drag on the floor before you brought him up to your shady but cheap apartment.

Luckily no one saw you and you set him down on the floor of your living space before grabbing a med kit that totally wasn't stolen hospital supplies from your best friend...

But who cares cause stolen hospital supplies are helpful. But you look at the wound and grab a bottle of vodka you were saving for the same friend and poured it on the wound and your hands since you didn't have any gloves. You have decent medical knowledge and enough to know what to do and what not to do. So you look for a bullet and are glad to see it passed right through.

So you disinfect the wound further before attempting to stop the bleeding and closing the wound with a sewing kit you had in the kitchen for emergency fixes in your clothes.

You braced yourself for sewing into his skin and then tying it together to close his wound before wrapping it in gauze. There's only so much you could do so you got a spare blanket and pillow and got him comfortable on the floor. You didn't think it would be a good idea to move him too much.

You only knew that closing a wound and stopping it from getting infected and bleeding is the best option even if you have no fucking clue what you're doing.

And after a tiresome night, you pass out on the couch, wanting to make sure this stranger doesn't steal any of your stuff.

Surprised to say Dante was still alive after that. Seriously you fell asleep thinking about how to explain the dead body in your apartment. If things went south you were screwed.

Since you were finally off from work, as a daycare worker for children, you took the chance to make some tea for your extremely stressful night and now morning.

But as you poured the hot water into the mug and over the tea leaves you heard a groan and whisper of "what the fuck" coming from your living room.

"I take it my late-night patient is up?" You say jokingly, smiling softly as you decide to pour another cup of tea. You wait a couple of minutes for it to steep before taking the mugs and setting them on your coffee table where your "guest" sat up with an annoyed look on his face.

He wanted to ask what the hell he was doing here but when he noticed the pile of dishtowels and an empty bottle of vodka in a slightly bloody pile. You hummed the same tune as last night before handing him the mug of tea and sitting next to him.

"Stress release for a stressful night. If you want honey in yours I have some but I honestly hate honey so I'd suggest sugar." You said, making small talk like it was the most normal thing and you couldn't help but feel like this was a wattpad fanfiction you were living through right now.

Dante felt an unknown emotion rush through him before he took a sip of the tea silently. "Thank you for the uh, help.." He mumbled, taking the time to look at your small apartment, noticing some cracks and things that need to be fixed. He noticed the blood behind your fingernails and then looked at your face.

Something in him realized that instead of the awkward silence he should be compensating you for saving him and he felt guilt over giving you a hard time.

And it's rare for him to feel sympathy for anyone.

"May I use your phone?" He asked, looking right at you before you pulled it out of your pockets and handed it to him, "Just don't say I tried to murder you cause I swear I may have wanted to poke my finger in your wound but I didn't-".

He let out a light chuckle before turning his head and putting a number in to call. He heard his bodyguard answer the phone in a panicked tone and he told his bodyguard to come to pick him up.

After that time went by quickly and the tea was finished when there was a knock and a big buff man behind the door who looked like a kicked puppy who shat on the carpet...

When he left you felt like you could finally breathe. You sunk onto your couch and finally fell into a peaceful nap with sincere hopes to forget that you didn't just have tea with a man who you treated like a doll to sew up.

But unknowing to you, Dante felt a squeeze in his heart and a sure knowing that he had just fallen for a woman whose name he didn't even know.

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Regular Headcannons

• Dante is 29 and was born on April 2nd.

• He's part Italian and honestly quite tall.

• He's not entirely good at showing his emotions. He had a rough childhood due to how his father raised him so he'd be a cold and ruthless mob boss when his father stepped down. Sadly even after he passed he couldn't shake the stoic mask he showed.

• But when he fell for you something in him couldn't help but smile so when he meets you again he shows this charming and adorable image. But the moment you're gone from sight he can't find himself feeling as warm and safe as you make him feel. So his smile usually falls when you leave and his subordinates quickly realize it.

• While Dante does have experience with women, he doesn't have experience with love. The amount of Googled date spots and how to win a woman's heart in his search history is honestly getting out of hand...

• He doesn't have many hobbies. He's rich but never sure how to spend the money so most of the time it sits away and goes towards bills and expenses.

• He does like taking care of plants. It was something he picked up as a child to cope with. He would talk to them and tell them all the positive things that he wanted to hear as a child and they thrived under his care. So his hobby grew as he became an adult so his house is filled with dark wood furniture and plants littered around wherever.

• He even has a greenhouse and an indoor garden space in his living room where he grows a tree in his living room. Somehow it makes him feel safe.

• Dante doesn't enjoy growing flowers so sometimes he buys some for himself just cause he thought they were pretty and would look nice in a vase he had at home.

• Cook? Why would he cook when he can just order something? Seriously it's not that he's bad at cooking it's just that he sincerely doesn't know how-

• Doesn't mean he won't look up a recipe to try and make you something for a special dinner date

• And as busy as he can get? He always sets time aside for you. And if you come to visit him while he's doing the "normal" part of his job he'll let you stay in his office with him and maybe sit you on his lap as a lovely stress reliever.

• But if you head over while he's doing the part of his job that he keeps far away from you, he'll send one of his subordinates to make you wait in a better area of the building while he finishes up busting someone's hands.

• He always cleans off before seeing you. He can't just see you while he smells like blood or has the disheveled appearance he does after dealing with someone.

• He doesn't ever want you to have to deal with it. Even though he knows you helped him he'd rather his own blood be on your hands rather than anyone else's.

• If he sees something while out near a shop or just randomly while scrolling through social media that he thinks you would like he'll buy it immediately.

• He's got so much money why not spend a bit of it hm?

• Soon after he met you he actually decided to send you gifts.

• it started out small like some tea leaves and sometimes it would be something else. One time you jokingly said, "oh mystery gifter can you give me a gift for my students?" And then next thing you know a stack of stuffed toys for the kids at your daycare center arrived the next day.

• At first you were freaked out but you grew used to it until you left a note by your door hoping to see who it was.

• when you found out it was Dante, he gave you the most adorable smile and said it was thanks for saving his life. He said if he could get to know you better he would be really grateful. You could of course deny but he'll still try to worm his way in eventually.

• And he understands not to send too many gifts as well. He just doesn't know how to properly express how happy and safe you make him feel so he gives gifts as a form of "payment" in his mind.

Yandere Tendencies Headcannons

• Seriously the wrong person to fuck with. He knows how to manipulate and blackmail but prefers violence and threats above all else.

• He loves you too much and he can easily manipulate your surroundings if he has to. And just like another man, we know he has people watch over you. He only trusts the men close to him so he gets one of them to watch over you and report your actions to him.

• But he doesn't want photos of you taken that aren't by him. Somehow he doesn't feel like anyone has the right to.

• And if a subordinate of his ever had the gall to disrespect you? Their dead the moment that shit spewed from their mouth. After that everyone knows better than to mess with you. But you do become a target of some enemy dealers. But that's also why he has his men watch over you.

• And his business never deals with drugs. Maybe some weed but never anything hardcore. They deal mostly in money, loans, organ harvesting, and certain contracts.

• But his job as a CEO of a tech company also earns him lots of money and while he's not too close to those he employs for the company since they are in the dark about the company being a front, he pays them well and makes sure they have the right bonuses and doesn't allow any power harassment.

• He can and will bug your apartment. He can't have himself worrying about your well-being all the time so it gives him peace of mind. And he likes it when you start humming or singing or just talking to yourself as you pace around your home with whatever task you're doing ♡

• But he does get easily lonely without you around, so at some point, he may begin pressuring you to move in with him. He just wants you by his side. He needs you.

He would have no problem keeping you by his side. There's no way for you to ever possibly escape him. So don't make him doing anything too drastic okay? ♡

[acheronist]

woah it seems like i missed the first eleven words of your post but in spite of that would it be okay if i asked about what you think thomas armitage and henry peglar spent four years doing while they were sailing around the equator on the gannet together

LET THE RECORD SHOW THAT IT IS THE YEAR IS 1834. it's also early april. cool and crisp but sunny one could assume. we are boarding the hms gannet (an 18 gun brig-sloop), and we are signed on for four years, sailing across the atlantic and then working in service of the british navy in north america + the west indies. henry peter peglar was born in 1812 and is at this point twenty two years of age. thomas middlename armitage is born in 1805 . much less information about thomas is readily available to me so we're really entering crazygirl speculation, but we know he's at least 28 but probably closer to 29. i love it when the least problematic thing about a couple is their age difference.

i don't know what thomas was up to, besides allegedly being married for eight years and having some kids and then fucking off to the navy instead of being a father (closeted deadbeat dad backstory? married young just to appease family backstory? lavender marriage backstory?) but in the last few year before this henry had: worked under a captain who was notorious for lashing his men, said Yikes this guy sucks i don't want to be lashed, wrote for a discharge, got on a new boat. new boat was captained by the same crazed captain as before, so he bailed again, and ended up on a ship he'd previously been on before, and then got lashed for being drunk and mutinous under the old-new captain anyways. my poor boy. the takeaway from this is when he's getting onto the gannet as captain of the foretop, his shoulders are covered in barely healed over scars.

good news is tho he got a promotion!!!! a few, technically!! henry's captain of the foretop, now, and likely spends his days up in the ropes and rigging, climbing around and fixing the sails. he's good at this and does an excellent job. this is also his first time as a senior petty officer aboard a ship, plus he was acting as coxswain AND working gunner crew when necessary. (shoutout to his childhood in his dad's gunsmithing workshop)

thomas armitage is rated as an AB right now iirc, and with only so many men aboard, surely their paths must begin to cross. thomas has got a pretty good coverstory of Marriage, but henry's never had any romantic affairs recorded thus far and has been pretty career focused for most of his life so far as far as i can tell. oh you've been in the navy since puberty? mm. mhm. okay.

well anyways no one would blink twice at some fellow crewmates who run in the same social circles sharing a meal every now and then. lots of people do that. and henry likes to write, has always liked to write and keep a journal! the atlantic is clear and beautiful but to make good pace, henry doesn't get the time to write until late into the evenings. men aboard see him writing constantly in his spare time, and he gets a reputation for it. once, maybe during a meal, the ships boys nervously ask him if he'd mind helping them with their letters. he laughs and says his spellings not very good, he's not much of a teacher, always been a sailor, but he'll help of course, if they'd like that. thomas can't help but overhear and remembers how it felt to sign his marriage certificate to cecelia with an X, not even able to scratch his own name out across the line. maybe that was better though, he hadn't really signed anything, and it felt like he wasn't truly tied to her, not in a way that was real. marriage consummated, sure, but he didn't know his children. wasn't in their lives. much preferred the company of his fellow sailors, the ease and routine of a crowded ship. sent most of his money home, of course, and never saw them. couldn't send any letters home, couldn't read any letters that managed to reach him, either.

still, if someone aboard was offering to teach, maybe it'd be worthwhile to speak to him more. try and learn. so he strikes up a friendship with mr. peglar. easy easy easy. he's funny, he's clever. gets silly after too much drink, freckles easily under the clear sunlight, works hard and his company is pleasant. he's strong and competent and good at his job-- jobs-- and there's not much to dislike about him. lots of men like him, but even on the hottest days as they sail south, when men strip down to their skins, henry still walks about the decks with his shirt buttoned all the way up. it's a nice thing to see-- thomas has always appreciated it when a shirt is well worn. when a uniform is respected and kept in order. you understand, of course.

so maybe, on a quiet night, one where henry's lingering up in the crow's nest with his pages again, tom gets the nerve to climb up. scares the hell of out henry on accident, and they both laugh it off. make room for each other in the cramped space. talk about the view, the waves and how they stretch out to the horizon, clear and gorgeous. tom hadn't realized the height would make such a difference. henry agrees, explains its part of why he likes to hide up in the heights of the ropes so often. they talk, and talk, and talk until the stars come out. tom doesn't even remember that he crawled up the ropes in the first place to ask henry if he could teach him to write, not until theyre both down on deck and henry's folded his pencil and papers away.

anyways... henry's often busy-- working. always working. its hard to pin him down but thomas begins to seek him out. gets scant minutes of each day to grip his shoulder, friendly-- NORMAL-- and smile. talk. nothing salacious-- of course not, one has to be careful aboard ships lest he wants rumors to start. but still. when henry begins seeking him out as well, it's a good feeling. sometimes the sun shines so bright and thomas gets to crane his neck up, picking out henry's dark silhouette against the blue sky and gets a few seconds to watch him work in the rigging.

and finally the ship gets a land break. a short one, mind, but a break nonetheless. the ship's docked in trinidad, henry practically begs thomas to join him off to a party. friends of someone on board throwing the whole thing over on the beachfront. spoke awful loud about it that morning, so it's not quite an open invitation, but seems informal enough that if they arrive at the right time, no one will notice they hadn't been properly invited. thomas wasn't expected to get drunk under the table like this, but apparently henry's much better at handling his alcohol, and its late-- or very early, depending-- when they finally stumble back out to the beach. its cooler out here and its lovely-- dark and salty and sweet and exotic. thomas hadn't ever been to a party like this. he has to twist his fingers into henry's shirt collar to keep upright, and maybe that's the first time he properly notices the lines of scars peeking out from below the collar. wouldn't ever see them if he hadn't pulled henry's shirt out of sorts while they stumbled over the sand-- giggling like boys and splashing barefoot along the shoreline before they returned to the gannet. and thomas wouldn't bring it up no no no that's far too forward especially because it wasn't something he was meant to see anyways but he keeps it in mind. he keeps it sooo in mind he kind of begins to suck at his job once daylight and the hangover hit him because all he can focus on is wondering how far down henry's back the scars go. what he could have possibly done to be lashed in the first place.

so he doesn't ask. he doesn't ask and he doesn't think about it, just struggles through the alphabet that henry has him copying down and thomas kind of hates himself but he copies his shaky letters down and does his job and keeps a nice distance but still... if he takes every meal with henry across the table then that's fine. they have to go over thomas's terrible alphabet practices and have a billion other things to talk about .

and the gannet moves along, so does thomas. so does henry. and its all well until the ships docks again-- cumana this time, and some men get permission to leave the ship. they'll be back on the sea again for a long while after this so the officers aboard allow it and henry just wants to walk so thomas is fine to walk with him. and it wasn't like they'd planned to find a party again, this just seems to be a joyful part of the world. and it's hosted by some americans this time, so they don't even need to struggle with the language barrier too badly! and thomas tries not to drink so much, wants to be there to take care of henry this time. and stays in the back a bit-- watches henry become best of friends with these strangers and he sings and dances alongside them, and isn't it nice how his face lights up when he spots thomas still there against the wall, so unabashedly pleased that he'd not disappeared while henry hadn't been paying attention!! and well maybe henry stumbles out of the crowd and pulls thomas into the thick of it, his hands all warm from the weather here and calloused from work and a bit sticky from spilled drinks, and brings thomas into the crowd to dance. and gets thomas to sing too because when everyone else is loud, no one really notices them specifically, and its okayyy its okay! its okay. theyre nobody here, it barely matters. just come dance. and thomas does follow after him and he does sing and he does dance. and they rent a room for a few hours before anyone notices they've not made it back to the gannet yet, and thomas gets to peel henry out of his clothes and do up every single button again after, like they'd never been undone in the first place. glances around the room one last time, and couldn't believe henry nearly left his wallet on the bureau top-- tucked it back into henry's pockets himself before they left minutes apart to avoid suspicion. but they got away with it which is THRILLING. and they keep on like this-- a cycle of working with their heads down and indulging away from the ship when they could manage it. halfheartedly teaching thomas his letters, which never quite sticks but that's alright, and seeing the sights and wonders every day, side by side, seeing the turtles swim slowly by and basking together in the heat and excitement of a new place with a strong sense of anonymity.

and its two and a half more years of this, of catching each other's eye between the ropes and Knowing it'll never last, things like this never do, but isn't it nice to have it now? and it's two and a half more years of this, and thomas does get to see the long, gnarled scars that trace down over henry's shoulders and spine, once, twice, three times, more and more until he begins to lose track. and its two and a half more years of secreting affections away up in the crows nest at strange hours when no one would notice. and its two and a half more days until they both get their discharges and the gannet docks again at sheerness and they hadn't talked about it, about what's next, because isn't it obvious? there's nothing next. this wasn't more than an affair, but it was a lovely one. it might even be one that hurts forever.

and it's february 1838 when they meet up at a pub in kent-- thomas kissed cecelia's cheek before he'd and said he was off for a pint with a friend-- and it's in a crowded pub when henry has to lean in across the table to tell him he's signed onto hms temeraire, just because he can't bear to stay in one spot. not anymore, loves the sea far too much to be on shore for very long. and thomas has to tell him that's good-- that's best for him. has to tell him to be careful in the ropes, he won't be there to watch out for him this time. and henry knows better than to ask if there's an address he could write to-- thomas wouldn't give that, and thomas wouldn't be able to write back either way. he'd still never gotten the hang of making his letters blend together gracefully into words, not in the way that henry always could. so they shake hands, fingers digging in a little bit too tightly, until they let go and that's all. thomas armitage and henry peglar go on their separate ways, resigned to the fact that they'll likely never see each other again.

and its seven years until they DO see each other again, running into each other, completely unexpected. isn't it so odd? isn't it so funny how things work out like that? do you think fate's real? well it must be, surely the navy's bigger than this to just be happenstance. they both needed jobs again at the same time, is all. heard the same rumors about john franklin's arctic expedition, whispers of optimism trickling down to even the most common gossiping circles of sailors. both couldn't resist the idea of it. both walked the chatham dockyard with their things in tow, keeping an eye out for hms terror, talking again as if no time had passed, about what to expect from the sandwich islands, if it'd be at all like the west indies... and well, they might be, once they make it that far.

who can really say, though. they're older this time. it'd be different, surely. maybe it'd just be best to be pleased for a friendship-- a more steady, meaningful companionship as they got through the passage. who can say. who could know.