#but also feels as if nobody she loves loves her back. you could strip every single fantasy element away and shes still the same

[abimee]

i guess this is just me trying to say im boring and like romance dramas more than anything else. ill eat up 6000 books that are all the equivalent of ''what if two women in 2015 werent feeling so good''

[argreion]

"Soft/smutty requests" you say, I can only think about comfort sex.

Putting it in short, reader is having a really bad day, or week, or month, too many thoughts about the future. Leon also is at his limit, back from a mission that lasted two weeks, mf got an injure he can barely stand.

Both exhausted with the head full of shit, not even a word is spoken during dinner, not even to ask why this man walks like he has a stick up to his ass. But when it's time to sleep and the lights off, that's when the heart opens. Cuddle and chatting session to catch up, turning into a slow fuck, full of kisses and the love both starved the time he was gone, of course, careful not to make his wound worse.

May not be a proper request, I've never done one, but feel free to expand the concept!

Sun-kissed

“Words are where most change begins.” — Brandon Sanderson

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — P in V/Riding, soft loving sex turned into Leon wanting pussy 'cause I said so. Lots of praise and sappy talk. A tiny bit of degradation. BIG hint towards cunnilingus. Talk of Leon's pain (suicide talk, drinking, possibly overdose talk cause I forgot if I kept it in. Alongside tiny blood and gore talk if it counts.) Stupid cringey argument over a table, because tables have FEELINGS.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 7.4k

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆❜𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 — So, uh, hi! UHM, I yapped a lot. I actually really enjoyed this! Uhm, I don't think really counts as comfort sex anymore considering this was an ask from two weeks ago BUTTTTT, I did go a lot into comfort and talking and emotions! Think it balances out! Kind of scared to post this but I know I got my moots love on this! Keeps me going! This MIGHT be shittily written cause lazily edited it so if there are mistakes you didn't see anything.

Please, make Leon wear his back brace and take his medication after he's home (P.S. don’t let Leon know we’ll be going to bingo.) — Ingrid.

Your eyes ran over the pastel yellow note from the bottom of Leon’s pill bottle. Standing in the bathroom with a hand on your hip. Brows furrowed at this peculiar find. That was odd, wondering how the government could sneak notes under pill bottles. First, it was learning who Hunnigan was and then realizing what kind of sneaky woman she could be when needed. Felt good to have her as a friend sometimes, even when it was her being on Leon's case.

That was before Leon arrived back at your front door. His arm pressed against the door frame with the most painful grin ever. Leon's teeth clenched and his breath stunk—doubt he even had mouthwash or toothpaste on hand on a mission. Not to mention the dirtied clothes, reeking of gore, and gunpowder. Your nose wrinkled at the smell and your sinuses hated it.

“You stink.” You stated the observation out loud. Hoping he’d explain, but he didn’t.

“Don’t ask about work.”

Leon brushed past you, stumbling against the wall. The grime on his shirt now taints soft colors on the painted wall. Of course, you helped him—that’s human decency—gently pushing the man to sit on the sofa, squeaking as his weight hit the cushions. Watching the dip on the sofa from his weight.

“Well, Leon," You started, reaching out to help him with his shirt. This had become the norm—the one routine you did every time he came back. Strip, bandage, bath, sleep, followed with food after he woke up. “You don't expect me to be curious when you come home stinking of ass? And you're—"

Your words caught in your throat as Leon helped you remove his shirt. Letting the stained fabric fall onto the floor, revealing many things you didn't wish to see—heaven forbid it came from Leon. Cuts, bruising, and a gunshot wound. Anger filled your body as you stared at the artwork. Is this even art? If so, it's beautifully grotesque.

“Don't ask about work, huh?" You repeated, tilting your head with a raised eyebrow. Won't even talk about work, but he'll make hints about Raccoon City like it's nothing. Nobody even knew what happened to Raccoon City still, but many could guess.

“Don't look like that, you'll get more wrinkles." The man smirked, using his fingers to flick your nose. Laughing at you flinching back and smacking at his arm.

“Dipshit, do you think this is the time for jokes!?” Concern boiled over into rage at his nonchalant attitude. Flicking of a nose, a joke, smirking, did he not value himself? Could a man not value himself but rather his looks? The jokes he makes that rarely hit and often made you cringe at the cheesiness.

Sometimes he didn't, did he? A year ago you remember when Chris pulled you along into a bar in Colorado. Colorado. You remember what Chris said without delving too deep into what was your mind,

“I wouldn't want you here unless it was needed. Please, talk to him." 

Sitting there with tired eyes he was. A bottle of ‘Aerial Shot’ in his hand. Worn biker gloves with the stench of sweat and unwashed leather. You'd never seen him look so dead before. 

The worst part was meeting his gaze. Awkwardly taking those seemingly quiet steps to sit beside him. What do you say to a man that's dying? Leon should've already been dead at this point. Gunshot wound, infected, surviving things. No wonder he never wanted to watch The Walking Dead. Why'd it take you a year to understand that? Guns and brains set him off, as did drinking too much.

“You're probably wondering why I'm here, huh?" You chuckled, staring down at the table. Blessing Chris and Rebecca for the heart-to-heart—one chance to get through to a stubborn man.

No response came from him. Body language said a lot for him instead. Tense, grip tightening on his shot glass. Impregnated silence… Was he that bad at saying a yes or no?

“This is the part where you say yeah, Leon."

He sighed, leaving you alone at the table. Picking the bottle up alongside himself like it's his baby. Did a bottle ever go ‘guu’?

Your hands laced together as you heard the gentle thumps of his boots slowly fading into the background. Chris wasn't happy, you could hear the steam coming from his ears. Wanting to cause a scene because someone was too much of a depressed loner to talk.

No, he just needs something firmer. Strong. Get the damn fucking bastard out and off of his own arse.

You moved out of the chair to follow after Leon. He always disappeared into the bathroom. Hope was something powerful, something you always had for Leon. Hoping he changed slightly, hoping that he could be changed. 

Slamming open the bathroom door to reveal that Leon was splashing his face with the sink while washing the ghost that haunted him. Their screams, tearful eyes, the sounds of people eating each other alive. Then there was you coming to lecture him on the right path—something he knew he didn't need. 

Your hand grabbed at his shoulder, halting his frantic washing. Overlooking him like his disappointed mother. Brows furrowed like her, too. Made him crumble into shambles as you reminded him so much. Remind him of an angel from the heaven he heard of. Why must you haunt him so?

“Stop avoiding this, Leon."

"You shouldn't be here at all. Chris is an idiot for even bringing you here." He snapped, shrugging your hand off of his shoulder.

He buried his head in his hands, groaning. Alcohol wasn't saving him from this vacation nor the stare of the woman he loved. Where was God when you needed him? Your angel was mean, father, mean for making him realize things. 

“Look," you started, moving his hand away from his face. “I'm here on personal matters too, not just because Chris wanted me here." 

Your arms encircled him and your chest pressed against his back. Looked like you were a koala on its mama. All snug and warm, despite the smell of a sweaty old man.

“They need you, Leon—I need you." The whisper fell from your mouth and into his ear. How'd animators draw flowing notes of music? Each word hit his heart, especially the last three.

At Leon's core, he was still like he was when he was twenty-one. Human.

Your hands moved over his, holding them. Protecting him from the mental battle in his head. You knew how much it meant to him to have you here. Regardless if it was after a fight, or when he was drinking.

“I know it's probably hard, ok? Killing things, coming home aching, and getting no break. I can't help you because I'm not exactly qualified for what you do, am I?"

The small sounds of you shuffling caught his attention. A small movement and you came into his peripheral vision. Standing there with a kind smile. Please, go away.

"I also know you probably don't want me here either. It hurts to know you can't avoid certain things. You probably couldn't avoid Chris. Just be glad it's me and not him… He's, well, something else with emotions.” You laughed, looking away from him in the mirror. Staring at yourself in the mirror then at him.

Staring at him made you realize a lot. Pain and resentment emanating from him. With each rise and fall of his chest, you could see it more. Even when he met your gaze at the mirror. You wish he got help.

Sometimes the value of man could be seen through gazes, words, and even their hands. Body language said a lot, and so did their responses. You thanked yourself and Chris for helping him become checks today. Well, mostly Chris. Sometimes, you couldn't help but think he needed something normal in his life.

Someone normal.

Something normal to him became jokes like these. Bleeding on a couch and there he was, flicking noses. Kennedy's charm never failed as you were defeated by his nonchalant attitude at home.

“Wrinkles, huh?" You sighed, kissing his forehead gently. Letting your nose rest in his hairline as you thought of what to do.

Ice…? A doctor's visit, too. Guess we're his little booker and Leon's the celebrity. The stunt celebrity who every day seemingly breaks his ass. What a silly comparison you thought of.

“Let's just make sure you're not dying, Leon. And then maybe we can have pasta. Your mother's recipe.”

“Mom's recipe was always good…” He tilted his head up slightly, using his fingers to gently push your head away. Made you flinch as he stood up, excusing himself towards the bathroom. Hearing him yell out towards you,

“And please, stop trying to eat my hair! It's not for sale, and I doubt it ever will be! Not until I'm old and wrinkly, then you can eat it. Scottie's Special Spaghetti!" 

Hair spaghetti wasn't the only thing that began to happen. Pills weren't his savior, as were the copious amounts of bandages used. Took an hour for one cut to stop bleeding, and then another started. Drove you to insanity as you stared at another box.

Shuffles across the wooden floor caught your attention. Forgetting the box to opt to peek out the door. Did Leon really not take a doctor's call to rest? Doctor's word was best, and he was too dense to not listen.

There he was, shuffling towards the bathroom where you were. Resting your hand on the door frame, you watched the suffering begin. Annoyed mutters as he finally makes it to the door, giving a smile. Hand on the wall to balance himself.

“You have a stick up your ass walking like that." 

Leon huffed, forehead wrinkling at your blunt statement. Spare him a little mercy, he can't sit down. couldn't sit down ever since Spain. He had to help one way or another, didn't sit with him right—Wouldn’t sit with him. “What do you want me to do? I thought we were supposed to help each other." He argued, his grip on the wall faltering. It'd be like Humpty Dumpty. The eggshell wouldn't crack, his back would. Well, probably a lot more than his back, technically.

"Well, Leon, I know you aren't going to sit your bum down and rest. I'm very tempted to force meds down your throat so you take care of yourself.” Your eyebrows were furrowed, pointing towards the living room. Did you need to be here? Explaining to the poor bastard to just relax? If Chris could come home more often than Leon, he was doing something wrong.

What did you say?

It caught Leon's attention, his hand twitching as he leaned up against the wall. There goes his pinky and there goes his thumb. Leaning down despite the rising pain inside my back. Exploding like pop rocks. A warzone at his lower back.

“Force meds down my throat?" The word rolled off his tongue. Followed by frustration, and that you even had the gall to say that. A bad taste settled in as words died in his throat. Being held back by his rationality. No one wanted the pretty guy to be an ass. He doesn't want to be, but what people say the least… exotic. No, exotic was a nice term to him. Peculiar, very-fuckin'-peculiar.

“Fine… I'll rest. If I hear a damsel or damoiseau in distress, busting my sticked-up ass for them.”

His white flag was accepted as he gave a kiss to your forehead. Dry crusty lips that needed that lip balm he loved. First, it was collecting guns. Then a record from the 1950s exploded into what was the wall of wonder. Wondering what deranged person decided to put records on the wall. Wish he didn't try to keep up with the times. Seeing Pinterest girls with records on their walls. Restaurants in New Orleans—a city of jazz and comfort food—follow the same deal. Now it's lip balm, lips soft and sweet. Something he adored by giving kisses. Sweet strawberry, benevolent blueberry, wonderful watermelon. Seriously, he needed to stop naming lip balms… His lips were already sweet enough without them.

With the parting of lips to a forehead, he bid adieu. Pushing himself back into the living room with the TV a bit too loud for your liking. He's already losing some his hearing, poor guy. Made you smile at him being logical, returning to check on things in the bathroom. 

Why were you buying yourself time till dinner? It was a good time to ponder what'd you make. What was near itGive? Was he near his date? What, why'd that come into your head?

To be frank, it was only a day since Leon came home. One day since he got to rest. How long could he keep this up? Were you a good lover for doubting him? Doubting someone you trust felt wrong. It was wrong, wasn't it? Watching a man come home more broken than before. The cracking of the perfect man in some ways. Leon always screamed the guy with the suburban house and wonderful wife.

Cracks weren't good for what he was. Every day, he seemed to grow another falling apart. Leon couldn't have known. He didn't genuinely know anything aside from killing. Didn't know what normal life in some ways felt like. Was his nine-to-five killing? It was like the records he collected. They're dated, like him. Spinning again with a needle to them. Instead, there was a bullet threatening to put a hole through his head.

“Why do I wonder about this theory…” Leon muttered into the air. Fading into the sounds of the TV. Letting out a heavy sigh as he let himself stare into the TV. Drowning out his thoughts.

He just couldn't, though.

Why would you shove drugs into his throat? Was he such an old man to you? 'Here you go, gramps, your medicine.’ Taken daily and gulped down with water.

The very thought of that sent him spiraling. Why was he always babied? He's not an idiot just because he has a perfect face. What was the count of proving people with his skill? Four? Three? Fuck, he lost count. His own lover? Made him pissed off at himself if he couldn't at least prove to you he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. In his mentation, he slammed his fist on the table. Thoughts like these made him resent his parents for good genetics; he didn't want good genetics, he wanted to be treated decently.

The sound echoed through the apartment, causing you to jump. Almost dropping whatever was in your hand. Shoving it onto the sink as you feared the worst.

What if he fell?

“...Leon?" Your voice was soft, as if scared. Looked around the corner to just see a closed fist on the wood. Observing it raise to reveal a crack in the wood.

"LEON!?”

His neck snapped at the sound of your voice. Watching the frenzied grabbing of a coffee table. Looking at it like it was a baby. People and their grandparents' furniture… Ironic, giving his alcoholism still. The baby he couldn't give up.

“W-why did you do that!?" 

A sharp slap against Leon's cheek from you sent him overboard. On instinct twisting your arm. Pain sprouting through it, Indian burns hurt. Hated when kids at school did it too. All for laughs when someone's in pain.

You yanked your arm out of his grasp. Rubbing the irritated skin as you spat incensed words.

“You know how important that table is to me! How am I supposed to show my parents it's cracked? Are you dumb!? Did being shot in the back make you stupid? Or did it miss to hit your brain!?”

Words gushed out without thought. Leon is staring at you like a hurt puppy. You wanted his head blown off? Why would you say that over a table?

“You wanted me to die?" He asked calmly, gripping the couch arm as he sat up. Swinging his legs over the side. “Or did it miss to hit your brain?" 

“N-no!? I know I said it but, of course not! I-I just… I don't know!?”

Hands were thrown as you went into a frenzy. Tears wanted to fall out of your eyes as you freaked out over a table. He didn't know the importance of a table because he didn't have his parents.

Those words you said… What the fuck?

“Look, I may not be the most amazing person ever, but wanting me to be shot in the head is where the line is, ok? Why don't you cool off? There's the gas station, and the—”

"Why don't you fucking cool off the gun!? When are you going to stop your little job!?”

You were switching tactics. Want to draw him out so you feel better. Learning that during training wasn't fun, only in his early twenties. “You know what? If you want to play this game, I'll play it too.” He sighed, rubbing his face. How many times has he now? Did it at work with training rookies, with Hunnigan, friends when he rarely went out, and you, too.

“You're wishing I was dead over a table, what's the logic? Look, I know it's important but dead? Dead? I thought you were better than wanting someone dead! Besides, it's only a crack, not a smashed leg." His thumb rubbed over the crack from earlier. A gentle apology to an inanimate object.

Logic against emotions never mixed well. Always end up with one storming out—that one is you. First, it was Leon who waved his white flag a year ago, now it was your turn. Hands raised as you responded to his reason,

“Fine, fine, I'll admit maybe it sometimes. That still doesn't help the fact you cracked the table. The fact we went and got it from my parent's place?” Your hands moved on their own, motioning between the two of you to change your point. You two, a duo, couple, buddies, lovers, WE.

“Who slams their hand on a table in the first place? How is your hand even that strong to do that? Are you doing drugs?”

Drugs? Drugs? Accusatory. Did your eyes fail you? He knew you barely left the house nowadays. He recently found a study on his phone that said eyeballs needed sunlight to grow, and you lacked it. Lacked the past sunshine he knew, bright and sweet. Why'd all relationships end like this? Turning red from anger, exploding like dwarf stars as a relationship's lifetime. Exploding…

You excused yourself, going into the kitchen to prepare dinner anyway. Waving your hands as you excused. Fussy little thing you were. Leon watched you, face full of concern over your emotions and what was said earlier. He knew you didn't mean it, but if you said it, meant you thought it. If you thought it, it meant you doubted. If you doubted then he… He didn't know.

Something felt off during dinner, it could've been Leon going suddenly quiet or the thoughts in your head. The scrapes of metal against porcelain filling thick silence. Thick like mustard gas that choked Leon of his voice and made his tears fall.

“I'll take care of cleaning up, you go get ready for bed. You'll probably shower anyway." You muttered, taking your leave from the table. Collecting plates as you went, lingering on Leon as he paused. Frozen like those Greek statues—perfect even in mental agony.

Still, he didn't want to speak, words not wanting to come out. He didn't need his voice to convey his pain from earlier, the regret he had. Your answer was received through his subconscious responses and body language.

Stealing his plate away from him to bring it back to its home. You started on the obvious: cleaning up after eating. Using the same sponge you had for months alongside dish soap. Didn't understand the ads about how certain dish soaps were unique—it’s just soap.

Soap that cleaned, soap that was washed away. Just like your thoughts circling down that very drain. The fight from hours ago was still reasonably in your mind. Fuzzy as you dried your, hands off. Moving to retreat to your safe space of sorts.

Bedrooms did wonders in many ways. Offered comfort, love, passion, and the chance of reconciliation. You chose right with the sheets, cottony fabric. Was it basic? Perhaps. But it felt right for an ‘American’ home.

Tearing casual wear off for something more flowy. Nobody wanted to be hot when they slept—except the maniac Leon was. Your clothes drop to the floor, leaving you bare to the choices in their closet. Rummaging through it as the man of the day finally made it to the bedroom. Slipping on something comfortable for the night.

Now it was his turn to change his clothes, well, more like stripping from them. 

Courteousness could've helped to mend what seemed like the bridge between the two.

“Do you need help?" A question you asked, reaching out towards the male to tug at his shirt. The silent hand between each other's minds. The sorry neither of you wanted to say but had to learn.

Leon thought for a moment, chuckling as he looked up at you, “Sure, if you wouldn't mind?” His smile was soft yet confused, wondering if this was your way of apologizing. Did you think it was an apology? He could've guessed to accept it.

With a drop of a head, you couldn't help but let a smile show through. Huffing at his confused answer. Letting your fingers already help with the stubborn fabric. Pulling it over his head to reveal a canvas full of dark purples and reds. Pretty together and alone, but this canvas was… Unique. Showing the pain one has endured will bring pride. With the main fellow of the show being the fresh gunshot wound on his side.

“Are you staring at my muscles or the bruises?" Leon asked, quirking an eyebrow. Moving to sit on his side of the bed. Working on his pants to reveal Calvin Klein boxers—dark like his soul. (That's what he always said, you ball of depressing sunshine.)

“The bruises that cover the muscles?" You queryed, moving to sit beside him. Hands clutching the edges of the bed as you glanced over at him. Observing his actions as he went on with his night.

“How long are they keeping you from work?" It was a good question to ask. He never said, Leon never wanted to speak about work in his home. It felt forbidden to him like he wasn't keeping you safe from a part of him.

“A week," he simply responded, finally shrugging his pants off. Moved his elbows on his knees as he met your gaze. “Wish it was less sometimes." 

“Why less? Wouldn't you want more? It's a break, Leon. Do you not like coming home?"

If he had to mentally delve into his memories, he would've fallen off that building long ago. Floors high with a bioweapon charging for him. He couldn't leave Chris with Rebecca, couldn't leave you alone with guilt and regret. Pretty tears like yours made him feel regret.

Breaks in a sense were bad. He knew the fact he wouldn't escape the government or their work. The work pulled him away from his tear-stained pillow and favorite pair of sweats. Gave him holes in the body and sweet blots of color on his skin. Fuck him and his brain, wanting to save everyone.

“Complicated, real complicated.”

Well, complicated isn't exactly the most honest answer. It just was used as a general term with him. A cover-up.

"If it's about earlier… I was stupid, ok? Who wouldn't be? It's just a table, I know. Just that table means a lot to my family, despite how ridiculous that sounds.” Gesticulating as you talked, Leon couldn't help but notice the clear unease to admit you were wrong—oddly finding it adorable. Resting his chin in his palm as you spoke your truth.

“There's a lot I want to say to you, Leon. Mostly just… Why all this? This job, it's killing you, literally. Your back is worse than a grandma's, you're becoming a dopehead at this point, too. I get antidepressants, but then all these pain medications and others amongst them. I'm not trying to be the person who says drugs don't help problems, but too many hurts you. I'm happy that you're seemingly happy with them, I am.”

Words were bubbling up as you poured emotions out. A waterfall that never ceased and honestly could've made you gag. Those clowns that pull fabrics from their mouths, how? Each fabric you pulled made you want to cry from the emotions. The guilt, pain, resentment, love, all in each pull.

Each fabric you pulled from your mouth to Leon felt like a prodding. Slowly turning into a stab that leaked oil. Catching aflame with certain words and making him recall painful memories. He wasn't a dopehead, he didn't want to be. No one wanted to stare at the six bottles of pills he tried to take daily.

"I want you to take care of yourself, to just take a fucking break.”

Breaks… How many vacation days did he have? Time paid off? Er, he'd have to check. Tapping his finger on his cheek as he tried to recall.

“Could try, but it'll cost you a little somethin'." 

Leon leaned close, kissing your temple before resting his head on yours. Chuckling to himself as his hands reacted on their own. Interlacing with yours as he smiled to himself.

“Debt paid, guess I will take a break." This statement made you breathe a mental sigh of relief, even after countless talks of his well-being. “I do actually hear you, though.”

His voice took a serious turn, as thoughtful-sounding as he could be. Reflection on what he could improve on, which was being vocal.

“Soon, I promise. I think I may be getting towards the end of work. Losing the Kennedy spark and all I have is a title.” Leon recalled Helena, or Patrick. The title of being the savior of Ashley Graham. The other being one of the first and best of the D.S.O. "Got a tummy to show for protecting a shitty country as well.” He laughed at his own self-deprecation—the walking circus he was. “Had that talk with Chris during last year, actually. When you were at the bar with him, after you left?”

He glanced over at you with fond eyes, “I talked with him during that. Helped me a lot, you did too." The man paused, stiffly rubbing his neck. "Chris also… Said hi." 

Classic Chris, felt like a family friend now. Alongside Leon's unique bunch of friends that he called colleagues, but you knew better. Every aging man needed their little circle of buddies. Made you giggle at Leon's annoyed expression. 

“Chris and his hellos… Loves popping his head in when you're home. Do you two even still talk?”

"Rarely,” Leon replied. "He likes to go out for drinks sometimes, quite nice. Sometimes he's one the only guy who gets me.” He gave a forced smile. Earning a gentle punch in the arm. One he brushed off with a push.

“At least you have fun with him, he's a clown once you get past the sternness."

This felt odd. Welcoming. Just a simple conversation with your lover. Backs falling against the bed and limbs tangling themselves as you spoke about life. Two little squids comforted in the presence of their mate. Losing yourselves in a everyday conversation. Pretending that earlier had never happened.

As the two became comfortable, so did your words. Reaching out to stroke his cheek. Over the faint line on it from years ago he said. Doubt he'd ever tell you it was from a old mentor. Thumb slowly moving down to his lips, a kiss being put on the pad.

“I'm still sorry for earlier, ok?" You whispered. Guilt had set in earlier at your emotional outburst. Telling him to die but you meant it in a caring way. Putting a hurt animal to rest with a bullet. If it was him, you'd give him that mercy. Let him finally rest as blood oozed from his corpse.

“You’re getting too old for this job. It's too physically straining on you. Drugs won't save you everytime and the hospital isn't either. How many names and faces do you know from there, huh?”

"Probably around fifteen, maybe twenty. Same doctor but different nurses.”

"See?” Your argument was valid in your mind. If he could remember faces, he'd visited it too much. It hurt you as much as it hurt him to dislocate a shoulder or get a bullet in the back.

"I love you Leon Kennedy, I really do.” A whisper you meant, feeling solemn. Leaning over to capture his lips against yours. Fondness and desire in one simple action. Feeling his hand curling up on the back of your scalp. Leon's eyes fluttering shut as he allowed it.

Your lips left his, breathless as you stared down at him. Watching him smile and the slight crinkle on the corner of his eyes.

“Love you more.”

"More, huh?” You jested, pressing your noses together with a giggle. Gently kissing him again as your hips straddled him. Keeping him pinned at the waist down. Hands moving to the hem of his shirt to pull it off.

“Can I…?”

“Can you…” Leon trailed off, looking at you expectantly. Before letting himself take off his shirt. Revealing little wisps of chest hair and a gunshot wound on his shoulder that's faded from time. Now just a light patch of skin with a ring in the center. It's younger cousin on his side, bright red and certainly angry.

With such gentle touches, Leon smiled—such care and caution. Made him aroused at the love. Made the back of his mind also angry he was getting aroused at something so simple. Trying to make him say something or pry you off with the excuse of pain, but no.

Your eyes wandered the pretty little canvas of bruises and scars his chest was. Even with the new gunshot wound. At least it was beginning to heal. You'd be gagging if you saw it before he left the hospital. Bleeding and the inside of human muscle and flesh.

“I don't know what to say right now," you mumbled, giggling at his stare at the awkward silence pervading the room.

The awkward silence felt right, comforting as you stare at each other. Payback for whenever Leon watched you.

“A little friend does." He whispered, watching your face burn at what he meant from friend. His hands grasped your hips, pulling your pelvis in to rub against his bulge. Situating it perfectly to where he could grind against your pussy. Seeing him so entranced watching his bulge rub against your underwear. Breath caught in his throat as he loved it. 

“Gentle, Leon,” you remind, shifting your leg to not brush against his wound. A little uncomfortable with the way your muscles felt but if it made him not hiss in pain, worth it. “You don't like thinking about these things, huh?"

“You don't get to think about many things in my line of work. I only think about getting ready to be back in your arms—where I belong."

Sweetheart he was with those words, made you all giddy and embarrassed. Waving your hand like those shit Lifetime movies towards the Jock with a pea-sized brain. All this grinding and loving talk made you mush. Should’ve been a housewife at this point if you fell for such suave.

“You jest too much,” you scoff, rolling your shoulders back as you prepared for a smooth ride. Grinding sexes against each other while seducing the other with half-lidded yearning eyes. Running your hands up his chest to his throat. Wrapping your hands around the muscle to give a gentle squeeze, earning a soft moan.

“Babygirl, you know what a little squeeze does to a guy like me.” Leon purred, his words becoming husky. Rubbing his hands up and down your thighs and hips. Resting his head back on his pillow. “Pull those panties aside, gotta see my babygirl’s little pussy.”

Giggles erupted from your lips as you shuffled back a little. Instead of embarrassment, arousal was coursing through you. Simple acts could set someone aflame so fast. Dirty talk was one of them if paired with the right voice and man.

Instead of pulling it aside, you pulled them off. Albeit a bit awkwardly due to your pose, but still could be done. Dangling it in front of his face for the alluring factor before throwing them at the wall.

With your underwear out of the way, Leon got a good show of your cunt. Looking at the slick that made him groan involuntarily. Imagining the scene that would play out alongside you. Being lost in his world made his body react for him, making him grind into the warmth you brought. Rocking you back and forth against him.

“There she is! Good girl, baby, just like that.” He rasped, glancing up at you. Noticing you were entranced as well, the way he handled himself.

Leon chuckled, reaching out with his free hand to grab your chin. Snapping you out of the trance as you meet his gaze. So mesmerized by a simple movement. “Eyes on me, Miele. You're doing so good for me.”

His hand left your chin to return back to it's resting place; your hip. Guiding you to grind against his bulge.

“You're unfair if I have to be bare and you get to keep your boxers on." You huffed, impatiently yanking his boxers down. Watching it hit his abdomen with a small slap against his skin. Leaking precum onto the skin, made you let a appreciative hum. “Better, I don't wanna be lonely." You chuckled, mimicking an earlier Kennedy wink.

Why were you two chuckling or laughing so much? You felt like the two of you were having your virginities taken. The awkward sex, shuffling of sheets, and being embarrassed. To be honest, it had been a while considering Leon left home so often. Leaving you without any genuine love-making.

“How about you lie on me? It'll be easier, promise.” Leon motioned with his hands towards his chest. Free and open like the two of you. Sweet smile on his face that revealed those dimples you loved.

Taking the offer, you moved to lay on him. Ear pressed to his chest as was his cock against your opening. Your arms wrapped around his chest as you sunk down. Letting out a soft moan at the insertion.

He rubbed your back, comforting you as you grew accustomed to him again. Murmuring soft words of praise,

“Good girl, just like that.”

His fingers went up and down your back. Languidly thrusting his cock up into you. “Missed this, missed you," he moans, bucking his hips up into you on accident. Squeezing him like a vice as his cock head pressed up into that sweet spot. “Missed that face you make when taking my fat cock." 

“Missed you too," your hands go to stroke his chest. Propping your head up on his chest with your chin. Face in a faux pout as you blink slowly. Letting out a small gasp every few thrusts. “We haven't done this in a while, Leon." 

“Yeah, we really haven't." Leon sighed, letting his head rest back against his pillow. “Look, I'm still sorry for not being here for you." 

He looked back at you, eyes somber as he added more, “It's hard. I know you want to know but I can't tell you. I'm afraid of what'll happen if I tell you. The government is terrifying powerful. I don't want you to die because of me."

It was obvious the government was terrifying, seeing how it reacted to certain things. Police brutality, shitty presidents, probably running some bioweapon deal underneath it. Power hungry just like everyone else. Those who denied being power-hungry were always the ones who were most. They just knew when to not say they were—they were smart.

“I could see that, Leon. I know what you do, ok? Bioweapons? Fight them? You and the government aren't exactly ‘low-key’. I'm sure a lot of the public knows.” You answered, feeling odd while talking about the government with Leon during sex. Such a turn-on.

Of course you'd know, even if he didn't want to go into details—mostly because it invalidates his contract and have himself and you be shot; he knew you weren't dumb. Worst part it was during something so vulnerable.

"Yeah, that's the bad part." He muttered, letting his hands grab your cheek. Giving it a small pinch as he gave a smile. “You look so pretty when you're taking my dick.”

“Turn off?" In truth, it only did a little. Knowing it would've gotten you a harsh thrust into your core. “I love you, but geez… You are something else with certain words.”

"Ah, losing my charm now, hm?” Leon thought to himself, pursing his lips as his eyes seemingly ran after some cleverly thought up phrase that made girls wet. "Ah, I think I got one.”

He drew closer, tipping his head forward so your noses touched. Knowing the smile on his face as he purred out sultry words, “Been thinking about this all day, especially when you made dinner. Wanted to take you over the dishwasher and fuck that tight little pussy into being mine.” His hands grabbed at your hips, moving you up and down on his cock faster. Fucking you with a purpose. The feeling made your eyes flutter, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

“Leon…” You moaned out, hearing the slap of skin behind you. "Y-you're ‘pposed to be gentle!"

A loud whine came from your throat, followed by a smack to your ass. Your shoulders jumping at the sudden harsh smack. Fingers digging into Leon's chest as he fucked you himself.

“Mmmm, I know, baby," he groaned, “But this pussy’s too perfect for me to not fuck.”

Leon laughed, eyes crinkled. All the while his dick kept curling up your walls to hit you again and again in that sweet, gooey spot. Making you leak down his cock to his balls.

Noticing his effect, he adjusted his hand to where he could rub lazy circles into your clit. Making your thigh quiver at too much stimulation. Hips tried to avoid his stubborn hand as he grew relentless in the stimulation.

You leaned forward to kiss him, before pushing his bangs back. Shutting yourself up so you wouldn't get a noise complaint from your next-door neighbors. They didn't need to hear more of Leon fucking you right. Felt amazing to finally be able to feel him again. His hands on your hips, dick curling up inside of you, lips against yours. Made a girl almost cry at the luck.

“Stop being so tight, gonna choke my dick out of oxygen and blood." Leon chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He ran his hands up and down your back, moving to your neck. Pressing your foreheads together so he could gaze at you.

“I love you…” Leon murmured, pulling you back in for another kiss you eagerly accepted. Hands curled up into his hair and pulled it. Pulling away from the kiss to pull his head back. Delivering kisses from his jaw to his throat. Nipping at the skin that made him moan. Making him roll his hips up into you quicker. How'd that angel a year ago become such a succubus in his arms?

"Love you too.” You responded, burying your head in his neck as you began to moan. Biting down on the skin that'll leave a bruise. 

With such love came passion, each thrust carrying it. Each touch of Leon's fingers on your skin lighting it afire. The nails scratched the vulnerable flesh as he started huffing. Reaching its peak, as does every man that ages.

“I got you, don't worry." His hands tightened around you. Pulling you tight against his chest as he rushed to climax. Balls slapping against your pussy and hearing the vibrations of his voice in his throat. Rumbling with each thrust. Almost seemed pathetic with how he was acting.

“That's it baby, you're doing so good f'me. Taking me so well. Just let go, squeeze my cock. Wanna feel you gush around me.”

Oh, sweet fuck those words sent you over the edge. Drenching his cock with more slick. Whining at the overstimulation with his quick thrusts. Crying as he pulls you from his neck to give you a sloppy kiss. Muffling his last groan he released himself inside of you. Hips slowly came to a halt as he panted.

“That’s my girl" Leon whispered, giving one last sweet kiss before resting his head back against his pillow. Letting his arms fall from your body to rest beside him.

Taking it as a sign to get off of him, you scooted off. Almost pulling him out of you before he stopped you with his hand being lazily raised.

“Wanna stay in my pussy a little bit longer. Too lazy to pull out.”

You groaned, brows furrowed but relenting as you pulled him into his side into a spooning position. Moving to where your back pressed against his. Arm wrapped around your waist and stubble rubbing against your neck. Leon already rubbing himself into the crook of your neck. Resting his forehead in the crook with an appreciative hum.

“Such a good girl you were." Leon praised, kissing your shoulder. Giving both your shoulder and neck small ‘good job’ kisses. “Kinda hurting, though…” He mumbled, groaning as he pushed his weight into your back.

“I did say while getting my brains fucked out you're supposed to be gentle. La mia brava ragazza.” Your hands squeezed his forearms. Sighing as you came down from your high. Tired from the dick in you and dreading having to wake up with dried cum on your thighs.

“I’ll get out in a few minutes, need to shower anyway.” Leon chuckled warmly, finally catching his breath. His hands come to hold your chest, giving a small squeeze. Not sexual in any way, just something comforting he did.

“Count me in…”

“When I wanted to come shower with you, I didn’t say eat me the hell out, Leon.” You hissed, swatting him with a towel as you stumbled out of the shower. Second orgasm within the hour and you're shaking like a little lamb. Already watching Leon drying his hair off with a shake and towel. Glancing over at you with a cheeky smile. You paused, before shrugging, ok, maybe it was good. Too good with his stubble rubbing up against you. Sucking on your clit like a lollipop.

“You expect a man like me not to take this opportunity?” He asked incredulously, a hand on his chest as he raised an eyebrow towards you. Almost as if offended you didn’t know who he was despite being his lover. “You hurt me, amore mio.”

As expected, he couldn’t help but jest at you. Watching you shake your head and pinch the brow of your nose. Offering a temple kiss in kind of his attempt to make you smile. “I’ll stop for tonight, don’t worry.”

“You should.” To keep yourself from losing another brain cell at your smitten lover, you dried off. Leaving him to his own devices while you dried your hair and body.

Leon smiled, before noticing the pill bottle on the bathroom sink. Taking it as his medication for the week is another opportunity for conversation. “So, this is what they gave me?”

He held the bottle in his hands, giving it a small shake with an estimate of how many pills were in it. Before moving to read the label and daily amount. Reading the daily amount, he hummed, before noticing the sticky note.

“You’re going to bingo without me?” It shattered his heart as he said it out loud, glancing over at you. Watching your eyes widen at the word ‘bingo’. Bingo? What’d he know about bingo? He only knew where everyone went for bingo.

“Bingo? What about bingo?” You asked, confused as you looked up to see the pill bottle in his hand. 

“Oh…”

Someone’s getting an angry phone call later.

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — @rigorwhoring, @xoxostarlet, @leqonsluv3r

If you wanna be apart of my taglist just send a DM or ask! I don't mind! Tomorrow I'll be dropping two bots! Then you will see me a week or so later! Love you guys! <3

[vibingandsimping]

hi! would you feel comfortable writing up something for a godhood!gale after he assembles the crown of karsus and wields the power for himself, seeking out a vulnerable tav as his chosen? i think the darker aspects of gale’s personality, like his ego and his possessiveness, could be really attractive

I like the way your brain thinks. Keep sending me juicy thoughts like this… I am THRIVING. He 100% would seek you out.

I wanted to make this a longer post for one of my follower goal specials. I rewrote this like two or three times because I liked the prompt. Still, was never satisfied with it. I will possibly write something based off this later… but for now enjoy a drabble + some headcanons :)

(also still haven’t finished the game… work is a bitch 🤞)

Gale always sought out knowledge and power. It was how he had gotten so intimately involved with Mystra. He spent his life studying and practicing to ensure he’d be a great wizard- like his mentor Elminster. Yet, nothing ever truly felt like enough to him. The weave in his chest ever-consuming proof of his hunger. That was until the Netherstones. He nearly drooled when you held Ketheric’s in your hand. The power thrumming and sending his veins alight. He thought all to have only a fraction of their power… but these. These stones were unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Everytime he stood near Orin or Gortash, his skin would tingle. He yearned to wield that for himself. To study and debunk everything behind it and nurture his mind with the intellect he could collect. He placed his trust into you. You led the group and held them close to you after killing Orin. Gale was noticeably on edge the entire trip with Gortash. He chalked it up to nerve- partially true. The Elder Brain was a powerful entity and surely would be intimidating. So, you as oblivious as ever, smiled and reassured him. He almost envied you. Once you reached the brain with the Archduke, you handed over the two stones and reconnected the three. Piecing together the Crown of Karsus. After Gortash was slain by Bane for serving his purpose… fate was left in your hands.

He watches as you turn the artifact over to him. He’s trembling as he holds the crown, finally feeling the immense magic coursing through him. He closes his eyes and claims it for himself- finally. When he reopens he is faced with Mystra who is less than pleased. He won’t relent, no, this is what he wanted. She placed a bomb in his chest just to ensure nobody could claim this power. How ironic that he ended up being Karsus’s successor? After winning a mental duel she curses him and banishes him from her realm. Why should he care, though? Mystra was nearly useless to him. He was a god now. When he returns to your realm, his skin glows ever so slightly and his brown eyes are much brighter. You can see his changed form and sense the change of his mind. He takes one of your hands in his- his skin electrifying to the touch. It sends a shiver down your spine. Gale draws the back of your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss. “Thank you,” he hums, “for bestowing this privilege onto me. I won’t let it be for nothing. Join me, my love. I can give you anything and everything you’d ever want.” Quite frankly, how could you turn down a god?

Gale was different from that day on. He was still tender and caring. So doting for your every need. Yet, he seemed to view you much differently. You were a mortal- so weak in comparison to him. His lips would trail your skin as if you were porcelain and he so despised not having you by his side. What if something happened to his beloved lover? Oh, and don’t you dare imply that he’s changed. His usual gentle and… a little overprotective or possessive nature will morph. He’ll become colder and stare at you. How has he changed, his beauty? What do you mean he doesn’t treat you the same? Isn’t this better? In the lap of power and in the hands of a god?

Careful what you say and do. He would hate having to punish you. Stripping you of your magic abilities or casting a spell to dumb-ify you. That, or how about being trapped in his personal quarters for a couple days? With no-one but himself to keep you company? Oh, don’t worry. Those are only if you disrespect his new placement. He knows it’s a lot to adjust to, he’s still adjusting himself. This is a journey you’ll take on together, hand in hand, just like how you started. He’ll do nearly anything for you, only ask. Just promise to never leave his side, okay? He couldn’t bare to let you go.

And if you did leave… it won’t be for long. He will find you and he’ll ensure that you recognize the mistake. You can’t escape your god, love.

[annebaby]

National Anthem ♡ (pt. 2)

hello everybody! this is part two of my very first fic ever! thank you all for all the love. i hope you enjoy ☻

warnings: toxic snow, suggestiveness (not smut!), fem!reader x young!coriolanus snow, use of Y/N, annnnd that's it for this chapter!

i still have another chapter to post, but i am pretty sure that will be the last one!

enjoy!

The day of the gala was, well, completely frantic. You saw your father for the first time out of his office in a long time, hurriedly grabbing some breakfast before heading to his fitting. Your fitting was soon, so you scarfed down a bagel your cook had made, as well as a small cup of coffee before heading upstairs. 

As the President’s family, you had unlimited private helpers in every field. Your seamstress, Kali, was the best of the best. You and her had become decently close, speaking about all the academy drama whilst you would get fitted in your dresses. 

It was nearing 11am now, so Kali was sure to arrive in the next thirty minutes. She would just be taking the dress and changing anything you weren’t sure about, or changing things to accentuate your body. You had some risqué ideas about this gala in particular. Coriolanus picking you up certainly amped up the need to be absolutely flawless. 

Kali arrives shortly after your shower, wanting to get started as fast as possible. 

“This is the dress I chose for tonight, Kali. I really love it - what do you think? Think all the boys are gonna swarm me?” You laugh as you hand the hanger over to the woman. 

“Oh darling. You are going to be in all of Panem’s minds after this dress. I already know what we’re going to do. Put the damn thing on!” 

You quickly strip out of your clothing, slipping the dress on little by little as you go. It fits fine in most parts, the straps being a little too big and the bottom being a little long and loose around your butt. You stand on a small platform in your room, looking in a full body mirror as Kali starts to hem the bottom slightly. You have ladies working on your hair at the same time. 

“I think we’re gonna keep a train on the dress, Y/N. You’re old enough now, you can be a little more mature don’t you think? Oh! We’re also going to lower the neckline a tad. Maybe find you a husband before the night is over,” Kali jokes. 

Secretly, you’ve been waiting for the moment you could start being more seductive with your clothing. It made you feel different, more daring. You watched as she so carefully trimmed the hem of the dress, leaving a small train on the red dress. She then pulls the dress to the side of your hips, showing how much fabric was left. She took it in, making sure to highlight your bottom as best as possible. 

Finally, your hair was finished. Just on time for Kali to come to the front of the dress and work on the neckline. Your hair was in a slick back low style, the top pieces being slick but the bottom half of your hair flowing freely in elegant curls. 

As you admired the now tailored dress, Kali stepped in front of you to alter the front. The now sweet and dainty neckline was soon to be plunging almost down to your abdomen. Your stomach twisted and turned at the idea of people seeing this much of you, but you were equally as excited. You were finally able to dress like a woman. 

Kali did her magic on your dress, making you look the best you had ever looked for a gala. By the time she was done, it was nearly three pm. All that was left to do was makeup, then you would be picked up by Coriolanus. 

You sat down, letting the artists do their job while you let yourself get lost in thought. The thoughts were mostly about Coriolanus, but nobody needed to know that. You anticipated the look on Bridgette’s face when you arrived with Coriolanus on your side. You simply could not wait to see her reaction. You look up in the mirror, smiling at how pretty you felt. Maybe, just maybe, pretty enough for Coriolanus to see you in a different light. 

Four-thirty pm. There was simply no way this was about to happen. Were you to sit in the front seat with him? Back seat? Who knows. You were prepared to do whatever he told you, eager to see if he would say anything else about his eagerness to drive you. Surely not. 

Quickly finishing the last details of your makeup, your makeup helper smiles and thanks you before heading out. Kali gives you a motherly kiss on the cheek, telling you to ‘go get ‘em tiger.’ You smile sweetly, appreciating her support and love. You add on some dark red gloves, reaching all the way to your elbows, bringing out the red in your dress even more. You add on your bracelets, some of the most expensive in all of Panem. 

Looking at yourself one last time, you run your hands down your body and smile. You look stunning, so sharp that not even a knife could compete. You’re definitely going to be the talk of the Capitol, but you cared more about how Coriolanus would act. 

Your father yells throughout the house, signaling for you to meet him in the lobby, ready to go. You grab your bag, and slowly exit your bedroom. Taking deep breaths, you descend down the staircase slowly, noting that Coriolanus is not here yet. Releasing your anxious breath, you reach the bottom of the stairs and blankly smile at your father. He doesn’t say a word, just looks you over and mouths a quiet ‘perfect’ before turning and heading into another room. 

You frown out of disappointment, hoping your father would maybe tell you that you were pretty, or say something dad-like. Just for once, you wished. He returns back into the foyer, fiddling with his hair and practicing his presidential speech. 

“Your ride should be outside by now. You shouldn’t keep him waiting, it’s not ladylike,” he says, not looking at you. 

Your breath hitches as you immediately turn towards the front door, a black SUV now waiting outside. You turn back to your father before walking out the door. The cold air hits you like a ton of bricks, feeling cold enough to start spitting snow any minute. Using the handrails, you slowly start to walk down the porch steps before your attention is suddenly diverted. Out steps Coriolanus, handsome as ever. Actually? The most handsome you had ever seen him. His white blonde hair slicked back perfectly, his icy blue eyes shining due to the contrast. He’s walking towards you, ready to grab your hand to help you down. Then, you realize something - his outfit. 

His outfit was none other than a perfect match of red to your dress. The two articles of clothing could have been purchased together. His dark red suit jacket paired with black pants and a black dress shirt. You slightly looked up to the sky and said a silent prayer for yourself. He takes your hand in his, lifting it upwards to elegantly kiss it. His eyes didn’t break from yours once. You smile and curtsy slightly before he walks you to the car. He opens the passenger door of the car and helps you inside before heading to the driver's side himself. He gets in quickly, slamming the door shut aggressively. You jump, clearly started before he leans over to you. 

“We need to talk. And I have to make it fast before we get there. We’re going to go slow, and take the long way to the venue. Is that okay, darling?” 

Darling? What was going on? Your eyes were wide, mouth open. 

“Yeah, that’s fine I guess,” you stammer out. What were you supposed to say? He smiles and puts the vehicle in gear before slowly taking off. 

“You must be wondering why I’ve been acting this way, wanting to drive you, unnecessarily charming you, the list goes on I’m sure.” He pauses, looking at you with raised eyebrows before continuing. 

“But before I continue, I need you to be honest with me for a second. We’ve never spoken before but I know you admire me, correct?” 

You are stunned at this point. Your heart was pounding, stomach swirling, and your eyes were looking all over his face. You noticed how he was relatively calm, yet it seemed like he was on the brink of going wild. 

“I- I wouldn’t say adm-“ he cuts you off sharply, laughing. 

“That’s all I need to know.” His laugh slowly dying out, he pulls into an empty lot, secluded from everything else. You look around frantically, not knowing if you should feel safe with him, or be utterly terrified. 

“I just need to try something before I can trust you. Can you trust me?” He puts the car in park and looks at you, sincereness in his eyes. You nod your head yes, not being able to get any words out at all. 

He nods his head back, before unbuckling his seatbelt and slowly leaning in. His lips brush against yours for just a second, before he grabs the back of your head and pushes you into him. You don’t know why, but something about this feels sinister. Sinister, but so right. His tongue brushes against your lips, immediately you open your mouth letting him in. He’s grabbing your hair with one hand and stroking your face with the other as the kiss gets deeper and more passionate. 

Fireworks are going off all over your body, a needing feeling bubbling in the most private of places. You place your hands around his neck, slightly digging your nails in. He breaths out in the kiss, smiling and breaking it for just a second. He gives you a peck of the lips before fully releasing you, staring straight into your eyes. 

“I just needed to see if what I was feeling was real. It certainly is.” Your foreheads are touching, the tension of the moment so thick, it could be sliced with a knife. 

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Snow.”

He returns back to his seat fully, before buckling his seatbelt. He eyes you over one last time before returning the route to the venue. 

“I’m not sure I know what I mean either, darling. But we’ll discuss that later. You look absolutely stunning tonight, did you know?” 

He uses one hand to turn the vehicle, the other grabbing onto your hand closest to him. It seems as if nothing had just happened, you hoped he wasn’t regretting it. You sure weren’t. 

You looked down at your hands interlocked, slightly overwhelmed with everything. You were confused, to say the least. 

“Thank you, but I - what just happened Coriolanus?” You stuttered in your sentence, mentally cursing yourself for showing vulnerability. His grasp tightened on your hand slightly, a smile breaking free from his stoic expression. 

“You, Ms. Y/N, have had way too much of an effect on me. I need that to be contained, and I need it to be mine. I need you to be mine. But for now, it’ll just be for the gala. I need you to make sure you’re mine tonight specifically. At the end of the night, we can discuss.” 

His answer only confused you more. Your face twisted with confusion as you looked out your window. 

“Just enter with me, save a few dances with me, and converse with me some. Just do how a couple would normally do,” he says, casually. 

You turn back to face him, noticing his slight smile turn more upwards. He seems… truthful. 

“Why, alright then.” You continue to stare at him as you wrap your brain around what he could really be scheming.

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 8

Well this was a whole-ass SITUATION. I'm still processing, but another outstanding ep. The twin scents of audacity and desperation hung over this episode. Sand tries and fails to have any kind of backbone with Ray. Boston sits in purgatory and decides nope, hell it is. Cheum learns more valuable lessons about perhaps minding her own business. Nick might be moving on to Zaddy!Papang. Mew spirals. Yo and Plug break up. And Top...maybe set Ray up to get arrested so he could look like a hero? Everybody had the goddamn audacity this episode. Y'all went up for Mew's crazy eyes last week, let's see where the gworls are landing for me this week.

⭐1. Atom

People with self-confidence like you are very charming to me.

OH SIR! Talk about coming in hot! Atom's in an experimental mood and looking for somebody to blow his back out, so of course he thinks of Boston, and he's putting out whatever sauce he can muster to entice him. I gotta say, this is a wrinkle I ABSOLUTELY did not see coming but the mess is MESSING and I'm fully on board. Cheum is gonna LOSE IT.

🔺2. Boston (3)

Alright. I’m a social leper.

Well he didn't do a lot this week but boy did he make it count: his bitchface at Nick, who it seems he might have really started to care about; poking at Top's soft spots; telling Cheum maybe she should mind her own business; and just talkin' gay shit with Atom who is VERY into gay shit right now it would seem...every second Boston was onscreen was a second of perfection. ESPECIALLY the second when he decides to make yet another terrible decision and take Atom home and maybe give him what he's been sniffing around asking for. I mean, has learned not ONE goddamn thing and I LOVE that about him.

🔻3. Mew (2)

You take no space in my mind at all.

I haven't seen a classic post-breakup slut spiral this well executed in FOREVER. When Mew did the line of coke I gasped, and when he shoved his tongue down Ray's throat right in Top's face I SCREAMED. Oh honey, you're SUCH a cliché and I love you for it. Mew does not feel an ounce of anything resembling love or attraction for Ray, and he knows it, and he also knows the thought of him and Ray will keep Top up at night, so cigs, booze, yeyo and tonsil hockey it is.

⭐4. Daddy Dan

If you have a friend who likes old people, introduce us.

Papang has arrived, and he's playing the kind of guy who asks college students he's hiring to hook him up with their friends so...that's all present and correct. They love to cast Papang as charming but also slightly seedy and creepy and I'm very into it. Also, in my country there is a strip club/brothel called Dad's Dan so I cackled for a solid 5 minutes at the previews.

⭐5. Freddie Mercury The Second

I want no business with someone else’s boyfriend.

The only person this episode to exhibit even an ounce of self-respect. I salute you sir.

🔻6. Nick (4)

What should I do to earn your forgiveness?

Nick's licking his wounds and trying to get back in the game with Boston, but Nick having never met a boundary he couldn't trample has pretty much sealed that deal for now. As Sand pointed out to him: what was he even doing at that party, other than making a fool of himself?

🔻7. Top (6)

Are you really picking Ray?

Ok so Top's the one who called the cops right? Because they knew exactly who and what they were looking for, and his #1 priority was getting Mew out of Ray's orbit and back into his. Top's beggin' tour wasn't working on anybody except Cheum (who...girl. GIRL!), but he still managed to end the night in bed with Mew, so I guess he'll count that as a win?

🔹8. Cheum (8)

They're all selfish. They don't care about me.

GIRL. Your girlfriend keeps telling you to LEAVE THESE BOYS ALONE AND MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. Now you crying on the couch and don't nobody care except your girlfriend, WHO TOLD YOU. All them boys one by one just telling her to get out of their faces...GIRL YOU ARE A LESBIAN YOU ARE ABOVE BOYS MAKING YOU CRY.

🔻9. April (7)

I know you’re worried about Mew. But he’s a grown man. He can take care of his life.

Girl aren't you tired? That woman don't never listen to you and now instead of having a good time you're feeling her snot seep into your chest through your (slay) outfit and thinking about how you're not getting any sex tonight either. SHE DOESN'T EVEN APPRECIATE YOUR ART.

🔻10. Plug/Yo (5)

There were many people I gave all my heart to. I gave them everything I got. There were many people I gave my room key to. They all returned it to me in the end. I don't want you to raise my expectations. And then you leave me too.

Oof, poor baby Plug. He just wants to live that househusband life but Yo been THRU it and ain't interested in going thru it again. I was surprisingly affected by Mom breaking up with Cool Stepdad, given how little screentime they've had, but Jennie's just that good.

🔻11. Sand (5)

Friends? You and I have never been friends from the get-go.

What more can I say about this loser? He's so embarrassing I can hardly look at him. Ray does not give a good goddamn about him, he uses him as a plaything, a servant or a punching bag as it suits him, and instead of throwing rocks at his ass and telling him to GTFO, he FIGHTS THE DAMN COPS who are trying to take him away. It's almost fascinating, watching this bullshit: every time I think this is surely Sand's rock bottom, he goes lower. We've got 4 episodes left but I'm calling it now: Sand is the most pathetic character on this show.

🔻12. Ray (1)

Let's hire a DJ instead this time. I don't want a band anymore.

OH MY GOD FLAMES ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE. Does Thailand do 5150s? Because Ray needs to be committed as a danger to himself and others. He got everything he wanted and IT'S NOT ENOUGH, just as we all (I hope) knew it wouldn't be. And then on top of that Mew refuses his kiss in private but lays one on him in Top's face and it's like he just lost it. That ugly scene, breaking up Sand's encounter with Freddie II (shades of him doing the same with Sand's date earlier in the season), claiming ownership of him (told y'all) forcing a kiss on him because Sand's his property right? Ray was downright nasty this week, and not in an enjoyable way.

[little-emerald-snake]

Leander Prewett x f!MC + exhibitionism?

Exhibitionism - Leander Prewett X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

Warnings: fwb, exhibitionism (but sorta not), mentions of many kinky acts, hickeys, unprotected p-in-v, light nipple play, dirty talk

1.3k words

Leander knew this was likely one of the stupidest plans he’s ever had but he was determined to fulfill her fantasy of having sex somewhere risky during a quidditch game.

He couldn’t deny the idea had sounded rather hot to him when she’d first propositioned him. He was also determined to help her fulfill all her crazy fantasies in hopes that maybe one day they’d be more than friends with benefits with her.

The idea of having sex out in the open felt taboo but he still found the idea hot. A lot of the things she wanted to try with him were taboo. Like fucking in an empty classroom, getting fingered while in class, sucking him off during lunch in the great hall.

And that only covered the odd places she liked. Half of the times she’d ask him to try something new it would be something he wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest of fantasies.

Tying her up, gagging her with her underwear, spanking her till she was soaking wet then edging her with his fingers till she cries. The wildest to date was when she had him steal a candle so he could drip the hot wax across her breasts and ass before spanking the wax off and fucking her.

She’d taken him from an inexperienced virgin to a sex fiend in only a matter of months. All after a silly game of truth or drink where she admitted she wanted a FWB to try things out with and a bold moment after the game where he’d offered and she’d happily accepted.

But even now as he trudged across the pitch, putting every last ounce of his faith in the captain of his quidditch team that, though visible, they wouldn't be noticed if they used this specific space under the quidditch bleachers.

He met her there, doing his best to appear at ease even though the sight of people filling the bleachers had his stomach in anxious knots. The last thing he needed was to get caught having sex with her but he wanted to be the one helping her fulfill these fantasies so he could impress her.

He pulled her close, sitting down on a bench and having her straddle his lap, kissing her as he slid a hand under her robes to palm her breasts. Her back faced the ripped banner that exposed them as she sat on his lap and nipped at the skin under his ear.

He had scoped it out from the outside and knew that nobody would see in unless they were on a broom. Of course but even then, the players would be so focused on the game, quickly flying around, it was almost impossible for them to be caught.

He let himself give in to the pleasure as she sucked gently at his pulse point. It wouldn’t be the first hickey she’d given him but she always loved leaving her mark on him, even if he did use a spell to hide them every time she gave him another one.

She ground against him, his cock stiffening to attention in his pants as she kissed him and moved her beautiful body against him. He let himself get lost in the feeling of her as he stripped off her robe, letting it fall behind her.

He worked her clothes off one piece at a time stripping her down till all she wore was her stockings. He stood her up, taking his own robe, vest, and tie off, leaving his white shirt unbuttoned all the way down but still over his shoulders.

He put her into position, leaning her hands on the beams that had become exposed from the tear in the canvas that covered the support beams. She whimpered, looking out to see the crowds of people.

Leander chuckled at her whine. “Oh don’t tell me you’re all shy now…not after you told me how you wanted to be put on display while I fucked you so good.”

She shivered, making him chuckle from behind her. He undid his pants, pulling out his stiff erection and admiring her excitement flushed cheeks. She looked shy and innocent which was a total 180 from her usual bold, daring personality.

She was clearly nervous about this idea now that they got down to it but the wetness between her legs betrayed her, showing just how into it she was. He slid the head of his cock between her folds and she hummed pleasantly.

He put his hands on her hips, pushing forward into her tight heat, groaning as her pussy swallowed him. She was a wet little vice around his cock, causing him to tip his head back and savor each thrust.

He started at a casual pace, just enjoying her cunt slowly milking him and working up to a pace where their skin slapped together aggressively. She cried out shyly as his balls slapped against her clit.

He could tell she was holding back on making sounds, nervous that the flyers outside would hear her. At this point his nerves had calmed and he made it a mission to get her too worked up to care. He wanted to hear her as she came on his cock.

He leaned over to whisper in her ear, hand coming up to fist her hair and yank her head back. “Pretty slut, if you think I’m gonna let you cum without hearing you moan for me, you’re sadly mistaken. Everyone in these bloody stands better hear you when you cum for me.”

She cried out, pussy clamping down around him in excitement as he egged her on. He reached down to pinch her nipples as he filled her. “That’s right, you were the one who wanted to be a little exhibitionist slut, getting fucked by me for the whole school to see, hm?”

She clamped down again, her pussy fluttering and rippling around him. He knew any moment she would lose herself to the pleasure. “That’s right, moan my name for everyone to hear. Let everyone know whose cock you cum for the hardest. Who’s cum is gonna be dripping out of this cunt when you lay in bed tonight and relive this moment while you tease that sensitive little clit.”

She stood on her tiptoes, pussy clenching down around him as a loud cry erupted past her lips, her tits bouncing with every wild thrust into her. Her cries of his name were loud enough he was concerned maybe someone had heard her, but in this moment his only mission was to fuck her through this orgasm and fill her pussy with his load.

She rode out the orgasm, his thrust halting as he stilled inside of her and pumped her full of his essence. She could only mewl and weakly hang onto the beam in front of her as he filled her.

Once they’d come down from the high he pulled out of her and stepped back, helping her up and holding her close. She gave him a lazy smile, letting him hold her. “I gotta give you credit, Lee. I think this blew my expectations out of the water. I really thought you were going to tell me to stuff it with this one.”

Leander was very glad to hear her praise. He’d finally felt like he’d made it somewhere by impressing her. That was till the next day rumors of them hooking up were all over the school. Members of the Hufflepuff team and Slytherin team congratulated him till he finally pulled one aside and asked about the rumors. “Well, half the damn school heard you guys shagging yesterday. We just thought you guys had finally gotten together since you spent so much time together.”

He was mortified to face her after the news was all over school but when she finally cornered him at lunch and the first thing she did was lean in to kiss him, his heart felt like it would explode. “Hey there boyfriend, wanna go to the Three Broomsticks with my friends and I later and share a butterbeer?”

[organicfirewood]

The Tortured Poet's Department (Katie's Version)

basically i'm liveblogging this as i listen. talking into the void; this is more for me to reflect back onto than a genuine critique of the album.

Most excited for: "Florida!!!" "Down Bad" & "WALOL?"

I'm hoping that this album will sonically resemble folklore and evermore... more acoustic, stripped-back, and raw. I'm still wondering about the "✌️" imagery and how that'll play into the album... maybe feeling two-faced or double-crossed?

Fortnight (feat. Post Malone) - ok... rehab. uh oh. swifties have been calling her a drunk for a while... but nobody ever took it seriously. this must be about a rebound... i don't want to say MH. ugh i loooove how this sounds. like a more sober midnights. no pun intended... sorry. post malone was honestly such a genius move for this song- his voice sounds very youthful paired with hers... hopeful.

2. The Tortured Poets Department - YESSS 80's into!!! god i love this instrumental so far. (I use a typewriter!!!) holy fuck nooooo this has the charlie puth lyric. more wedding references.

3. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - ok. that charlie puth lyric left a bad taste in my mouth im trying to recover. i like that her vocal tone is a little darker here- would lower register apply for this? "he only runs because he loves me" real af i get you, queen. love that we've graduated to only having sandcastles instead of fortresses. these lyrics are also very ex-best-friend-coded... im projecting.

4. Down Bad - funkyyy okay. aww dun-dun-dun-dun! i wonder what mr kelce thought of all of this... oh, to be a fly on every single wall. yeah i like this one a lot. somehow also very 1989(tv ftv) coded. this sounds like denial into anger if we're still talking about the stages of grief. "like i lost my twin" is like "twin fire signs." i think she keeps seeing herself in her partners and feels abandoned when things don't work out.

5. So Long, London - ok intro eatssss down! this sounds like a driving-on-the-highway-song. i like how "talky" this is. it's very theatrical. this gives the sense that they (taylor and whoever this may be about) may have bonded over their sadness and the other party got upset when she started to heal. also, another reference to altars, but that may strictly be a religious metaphor.

6. But Daddy I Love Him - the intros are great. love the acoustic sounds. i really like this one a lot... this is a lot more whimsical and could almost fit on a Speak Now-style record. yeah, this is fantastic. such a quintessential Taylor Swift song. i'm terrified of how literally people (millennials on tiktok) are going to take this.

7. Fresh Out The Slammer - YUHHHH these intros!! ugh god i love a western motif. this is beautiful. this might be my favorite so far. i can't help but wonder what "time" she did. rehab, like previously alluded to? a rebound? a tortuous relationship? the period in a public career where one is constantly criticized and scrutinized? another ring mention.

8. Florida!!! (feat. Florence + The Machine) - huh. weed and babies. awesome! i agree, florida is one hell of a drug. "cheating husband..." uhokok. ok yes swamp imagery! yes southern/florida gothic! what shitstorm happened in texas? taylor please eliminate the urban sprawl in florida it'll give you more room to bury bodies!! pleaseee.

9. Guilty as Sin? - again. great intros. uh oh. is it just me, or does this sound like a 1975 song?? i like the production regardless. "we've already done it in my head" again real af. this song is real af. this is like limerence... these lyrics are kinda pushing the envelope, no? for taylor's standards, anyway.

10. Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - another western-esque motif. we are scared of you taylor, i promise. contained scandal... oh? is this the cheating allegation??? this bridge was legitimately chilling. her reputation era was only a scratch on the surface. i think she needs a legitimate full-blown villain era (as a treat). i'm scared for track 13.

11. I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - moooore western motifs. yuh okay i like this one. more texas. what happened in texas? did anything happen in texas or is it just a placeholder? the vocals on this one are like velvet. "GOOD BOY"???? and the references to angels??? please. please. thank you, taylor.

12. loml - sigh. im not ready for this one. "better safe than starry-eyed" is a fabulous lyric. i can't wait to see that on fan merch everywhere. another reference to marriage. this is very reminiscent of "you're losing me." more rings and cradles. christ. loss of my life! loml.

13. I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - im not ready i dont think. the intro, again, is great. sounds like setting up the tour. i hope that this album was therapeutic for her. yesss i love this one actually. i love when artists do the sarcastic happy-sad trope. taylor, please know that 90% of the eras tour crowds was and is sympathetic; we were only cheering for you, not for what you do. yes key change! yes i love this one!

14. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - jehovah's witnesses mentioned. just wanting to know why is so incredibly valid and a universal truth, i think. this one left me with a pit in my stomach.

15. The Alchemy - chemicals... hospitals... i hope she writes an autobiography one day. touchdown! so this is a travis-era song? i like the sound design of this one.

16. Clara Bow - nooo im not ready. stevie nicks reference!! :) i don't think she's exactly regretting her fame, but certainly re-evaluating it here. we (media, society, swifties) need to leave her alone, please.

I hope that the creation of this album was cathartic for her; it feels intensely personal. I don't like speculating about her life, yet so many of these songs are extremely context-dependent. Most of all, I hope that she gets the healing she needs. She's such an important figure for so many people; more people want the best for her than don't. It's been very clear for a while that she's been suffering. Everyone breaks at some point... I keep seeing The Tower in my mind.

[kivrin]

Ok @paulinedorchester here you go.

Honeysuckle Weeks. Actress. Posh. You remember. Frightfully good as uptight Samantha Stewart in Foyle's War. Bit of a rackety personal life. Then she disappeared. Damn shame, really. But - look! - suddenly she's back. Every little bit of her.

"When I told my father I'd been cast in the musical version of Calendar Girls, his first response was

'We'll have to get you a tit job then!"" cries Weeks.

"I had to explain to him that it's not about showing off perfect bodies. It's more like the Japanese art of kintsugi where broken vases are mended with molten gold - and it's the cracks that make it truly beautiful and unique. At this stage in life aren't we all broken vases?"

Weeks, 44, is keenly aware of falling headlong into her own deep fissures, but we shall come to that shortly. Today lean and soigné, wearing a One Hundred Stars peignoir, she is casually elegant despite being worryingly hoarse after a cast night out at a Greek restaurant where there was dancing and plate smashing, washed down by liberal quantities of Retsina.

She is happily sharing a dressing room with two of her co-stars, Maureen Nolan (69) and Marti Webb (79), doyennes of musical theatre. And her sense of belonging is palpable.

This production, co-written by Gary Barlow and Tim Firth, is a tuneful retelling of the familiar and adored story of how the death of a much-loved husband saw a group of ordinary women in a small Yorkshire Women's Institute set about creating a nude calendar to raise money for charity. Weeks plays Cora, the church organist, a single mother and natural-born rebel.

"I was absolutely thrilled to be asked," says Weeks, who also happens to be a single mother and natural-born rebel. "Of course I said yes immediately, but it was a huge challenge. Not only do I have to sing and get my kit off, I have to do a Yorkshire accent and pretend to play the piano. I thought I might have to learn the organ as well but thank God I could cross that off one of my to-do list."

As far as the stripping goes, Weeks is relieved her character's proverbial coin landed on “tails rather than heads” which is to say no full frontal, but “I am butt naked on stage".

"Everyone is wonderfully supportive," she says. "We all look after one another and make sure nobody's too exposed. I'm not the best singer but I've taken lessons - at every performance the audience laughs uproariously and 99.9 per cent of the time we get a standing ovation, which feels magnificent."

[floosies]

Salvatore

pairing: mob!jake lockley x oc!fem

warnings: slow burn, pining, cursing, mentions of violence, smut, mentions of dr*gs 18+ ONLY

taglist: @lex-the-flex @tsnelf7

(A/N: I just want to say writing this series has my little bit of joy and seeing that it has gotten so many likes is really heartwarming. I know I've taken forever writing these chapters but they really do come from a place of love for both fandom and writing so I really hope you enjoy this final chapter. Also I can't believe we might be getting a season two of Moonknight!)

"We both know that it's not fashionable to love me, but you don't go 'cause truly there's nobody for you but me. We could cruise to the blues, Wilshire Boulevard if we choose. Or whatever you want to do. We make the rules, Our honeymoon...."

8.

It took a lot of convincing from Rogers to get Lockley on board with the plan to keep Alicia in the Heights with him while things got smoothed out enough to send her with Barnes' family in Greece. The nail in the coffin for Jake's reluctant agreement was the fear of time, neither of the men knew how long it would take to get things straightened up, Rogers estimated a couple of months.

However, the more Jake thought about things, his mind began to wander into the darker depths. No one was certain if this thing would bring any casualties or unwanted public attention. He was willing to do whatever it took to protect her, but their bond was something he didn't want to break. They hadn't lied to each other about anything up til then and sure, he wasn't going to technically lie to her even now, but he didn't feel too good about what he was doing, ironically.

-

Oddly enough, Alicia had never felt more certain that things though tense were going well. Everyone around seemed busy facing this problem, including herself. When she'd heard from both Jake and her uncle that they'd like for her to help up in the Heights she was excited to get back into her work flow. She'd met Frenchie, she knew the people who worked in Jake's office, it all felt like a turn in the right direction.

It'd been two weeks since she arrived and just as Jake was beginning to forget the initial plan, he had gotten word from Barnes that it was all set. Though she had helped him and the community immensely, his goal was to keep her safe. She was under the impression that she had a business trip to attend to with her uncle.

-

The ride to the landing strip was quiet and unnerving, she felt something was off. Without thinking twice she asked, "is there something you're not telling me about this business trip?" Her uncle looked at her in a way he hadn't quite starred at her since she was younger, with a look of worry and guilt. He knew he couldn't hide the truth from her forever, but it wasn't so much the plan that made her upset, though she did feel angered, it was the fact that Jake had known and didn't even think to warn her.

She refused to leave the car, her mind and heart were racing with emotions. Her uncle knew she had done a great service to all of them but he continued to repeat to her that for said reason he needed to keep her safe. Still her mind kept thinking back to Jake and how he said nothing to her, she needed one final word with him.

As much as Barnes' thought it as a waste of time, he let her call him. When he picked up and she heard his voice every thought she was thinking came out all at once. "I'm not leaving." That was her finishing line, but instead of hearing him plead, instead she was met with a demand. His voice gruff and dark, like the kind he used on his enemies had taken over his demeanor, "I'm doing this for us carino. I'm going to handle this and go get you when its over. So if you don't get on that plane now, your uncle and I will make sure you do get on it."

Here she was, just herself against the people she loves. She knew she only wanted to stay because she was afraid, but they would force her to leave anyways. Their fears were stronger than hers and in silence she got on the plane. An assistant of her uncle's gave her the instructions for when she arrived in Greece as the plane began to decend.

-

The first week felt like an unprompted vacation. Her aunt and the children took around the town in which they lived. Doing everything and anything to keep her mind at bay from thinking about home. Though as the month progressed her mind went back to Jake and what was going on back home. She had been informed that she couldn't have any of her personal devices with her, so she tried her best to keep informed by watching the international news, but even at the greek home there were restrictions.

Unbeknownst to her, in the second month, her family came to visit her. Apparently it was a plan arranged by her uncle. She hadn't seen her siblings or parents in ages but the conversations she had with the adults in her life only made her think more of Jake and what he could possibly be living through.

-

By the third month she wasn't sure what to do with herself. All the things she knew had been spoken of with the people around her, well except for her niece and nephews those children deserved all the fun and calm they could live through before age ruined them. Her aunt hadn't told her yet that it was all over now, but she didn't need to when her uncle and Jake showed up.

Jake had gone through hell and back for her, he had healing scars and a his left arm in a cast. He wasn't sure what she would say when she saw him. He hadn't expected that she didn't say anything at all, she just hugged him and held onto him for a good while. There was a sense of calm for once, the kind that they all shared in.

With a handle on things Barnes decided to take his family out of Greece and back home to New York. Jake surprised everyone by proposing to Alicia, she said yes though, marriage meant she could never lose him and that was what she wanted. There was so much they would have to talk about and so much they needed to plan. Jake had never thought a life with domesticity would ever be in his cards, but he was going to enjoy every second of it with her.

[invisibleraven]

53 and Carrie and anyone?

Carrie is beaming as the applause rings out, trying not to show how her lungs are working overtime to regain a normal breathing pattern, how her heart is thundering in her chest matching the beat of the clapping. Instead she waves, smiles, bows and runs off the stage, collapsing into the chair provided, chugging down her water as the girls follow behind her.

She takes the compliments thrown her way, nodding at each thumbs up and smile, trying to ensure the smile doesn't slip off her face, not until she's in her dressing room, washing off her mask of make up. Carefully putting the pink wig on the stand, stripping off the sequins and glitter. Her persona of the Pink Candi-armour of old in bedazzled glory-it keeps her safe, but it's a heavy burden to bear every evening.

She feels fake and hollow every time she dons it-like she has to be this bright glittery thing to be noticed when all she wants, all she's ever wanted, is to be loved as Carrie Wilson. It weighs heavy on her as she heads home to her big, empty condo.

She takes her time in the shower, letting the warm water soothe her aching muscles, slowly coming back to herself as the suds run down the drain. Pulls her hair into a wet and messy bun, slings on her comfiest sweats and the oversized pink sweater that she stole from Alex ages ago. He's yet to ask for it back, but then again, they haven't talked in years, so she doubts he ever will.

She misses her friend.

Alex who was thrilled to dance and sing with Dirty Candi back in high school. Who could out snark her almost any day but also gave her the best hugs. Who encouraged her to go after her dreams, no matter what people would say about her using her dad's name to make it.

But then she became a superstar and Alex went off to college to become an art history major. They tried to keep in touch, but...

She still wonders what he's doing right now, every so often. Wonders if he's teaching somewhere, if he and Willie made it the long run and have a house with 2.5 kids running around it. Wonders if he still sees Luke and Reggie on the regular, or if they lost touch as well.

She pulls out her phone, and opens Facebook. Her account is long dormant, hidden from the fans. She clicks on Alex's name.

There he is. Happy and smiling, looking a little older, a little more mature. He's got his arm slung around Willie, and there's a small redheaded girl standing by them, her smile rivalling theirs, even with her missing front teeth.

She scrolls through his feed, seeing him post stupid memes, sarcasm at current events, and pictures of his family. She learns the girl is named Isla, that she's four, and apparently a spitfire with Alex's wit and Willie's perchance for chaos from the few videos. She's watching one of Isla skateboarding for the first time, and her finger slips, liking the video.

Carrie swears, tries to unclick the button to no avail, the damage is done. Worse yet, it looks like Alex is online, because her messenger opens up with a message from him.

Alex: Carrie?

Carrie: Hi Lexie

Alex: Wow, long time

Carrie: Yeah... I was feeling nostalgic. Missed you. See you've done okay for yourself.

Alex: No complaints. And you... you're a superstar! I see your face on billboards, on buses. My little girl, Isla loves you.

Carrie: That's so sweet. You'll have to send me your address, I can send her some autographed merch

Alex: She'd love that.

There's a beat, and Carrie wonders if that's it. If this is just a story Alex can tell, how he can recall to Isla that he knew her when she was a nobody. Then the little dots appear, disappear, and finally a new message appears.

Alex: So, why the nostalgia?

Carrie: I still have your sweater. Made me feel... I dunno, like my life was missing something.

Alex: You worked so hard and it shows Care, what could you be lacking?

Carrie: Someone to share it with? A friend who knows me and not the whole get up I wear onstage? Something... something real.

Her FaceTime notification rings then, and Carrie sees it's Alex calling. She opens the call and grins at seeing Alex. His blond hair flopping down his forehead, those blue eyes shining at her. "Well you still look like Carrie to me," he says.

"And you look like a dad," she replies, nodding to his shirt covered in tiny handprints of paint and flour.

He chuckles at that. "Yeah, we made Play Doh, it's surprisingly messy." His smile slips a little. "Talk to me princess."

Carrie sighs, settling further into her couch. Tells him about her life, how hollow it all feels, how her dreams catapulted her to stardom but didn't make her happy. Alex talks about his life in turn, his frustrating students, but how happy his domestic life is.

Tells her about how Luke married some girl named Julie and is a guitar player in some band or another. "They have two kids, twin girls named Harmony and Melody," Alex says and they share a nose scrunch at that. "I know, I know."

"That boy is obsessed," Carrie sighs. "What about Reggie?"

Alex's face falls at that. "Reg... Reggie passed last year Carrie."

"W-what?" Carrie stutters. She and Reggie had never been close, but she liked him well enough. He always had a bad joke or a warm smile for her. Always offered to share his snacks or his math notes. He'd been one of the good guys, and Carrie had always thought him rather cute.

Alex's face is grim now. "Yeah, he..." Alex shakes his head for a moment. "It was bad. He never told us how sick he was, and then he was in the hospital, and then he was gone days later. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," she whispers. "I know how close you two were."

"Yeah," Alex says with a sniffle. "Willie and I... we're in the process of getting Isla a little brother right now. Due any day. We're gonna name him Reggie."

"Reginald Mercer does have a ring to it," Carrie says, wiping away a tear.

"Shotton," Alex says. "The kids took Willie's last name. Fuck carrying on the Mercer legacy."

"Doesn't your sister have a kid?"

"Patrick took Jade's last name, so did Olivia," Alex replies. "I offered to take Willie's, but where he grew up in foster care... he said he wanted me to keep the one thing my parents gave me." He lets out a small yawn then. "Sorry Carrie, been a long day and Isla likes to wake us at dawn."

"That's okay, hit the sack. It-it was nice to catch up," Carrie says, waving him off.

"Feel free to call or message me any time," Alex says. "Maybe don't leave it years this time though?"

"Fuck you," Carrie replies, but her smile betrays her. She offers Alex one last goodbye, and then sinks back into the cushions.

She feels lighter, heavier, and more like herself than she has in ages. So much so that she pulls out a notebook, scribbling down a song about a girl breaking free.

Then another about kind green eyes gone too soon, and hopes that wherever Reggie's spirit is, he's still smiling.

[jungk0oksthighs]

i know nobody asked but here’s a little life update that i really want to share with you all: tw: abuse. tw: sui mention. (non descriptive but this is a low-key sad post, but also not really sad actually the opposite but abuse is a heavy theme)

yesterday i discovered that my abu$!v3 ex boyfriend and his girlfriend of two months split up. just like he did with me, he lied to her, manipulated and love bombed her, gaslit her and shockingly enough: cheated on her too. (i know all in the space of a two months tf) now i’m not gonna be the ex that says “yeah well she knew what he did to me so she should’ve seen it coming-“ like no; he probably didn’t divulge into the details of our relationship and if he did he 100% made me out to be the villain of our story. he’s very good at that. i have nothing but raw sympathy for the girl, i’ve been there, but in a way i’m thankful that she found out now as opposed to later down the line. i wish i had an early escape from him. anyway:

what i wanted to share with you all was the relief i felt, because to me this is further confirmation that i was never the problem. it was nothing i did. he didn’t cheat on me because of me. it wasn’t because i look a certain way or act a certain way. it had nothing to do with me, what he put me through. the lies, the manipulation, the gaslighting, love bombing etc. making me doubt myself and my truth, dampening my dreams and stripping me of every ounce of personality, passion and love that i had.

i don’t want sympathy!! that’s not why i’m posting this!!!! i’m actually in a really good place right now, and knowing that what he put me through isn’t a reflection of me but a reflection of himself is just… there are no words to explain what i’m feeling. it’s like relief mixed with smugness and the way your mouth falls open when you have a eureka moment and there’s a bittersweet ache in my heart too.

ofc all my friends and family told me repeatedly it was never about me and that he’ll do it again and again and again and move from victim to victim, but actually knowing that, having someone say to me: ‘did you hear what happened? he did the same thing to her.’ it’s such a strange feeling. i feel sorry for the girl, i really do. i’ve never interacted with her because even if i did try to ‘warn her’ i would’ve been made out to be the psycho jealous ex girlfriend, honestly some of the shit he says about me… wild. so i didn’t want to get involved with that and i genuinely thought maybe he’s changed in the last 8 months who am i to say he hasn’t? maybe he was only like that with me, because it was me

no, it really wasn’t about me. i wish i could go back in time to january laura who literally wrote a sui note and didn’t eat for fifteen days straight because i was convinced if i looked different maybe he’d still love me. maybe if i dyed my hair, or what if i got my tattoos removed? it’s because i have big hips and thighs isn’t it? maybe i should stop doing makeup and spend more time at home. baby no, january laura no. it was never about the way you look, or because of your hobbies and interests. it was never about you girl. i cried myself to sleep every night for three months because that man fucking broke me. i genuinely didn’t know who i was anymore. and just when i started healing he toyed with me again and said he’d changed, slept with me, told me he still loved me and that he made a mistake, messed my head up only to say two days later: “it’s not what i wanted after all guess i was wrong lol. i’m not even attracted to u never have been dunno why i said i love you cause that’s just a lie.” another two months of agony, self-hatred, tears.

cut to now things have been better, i’m healing slowly and learning how to love myself and rediscover my passions (eyyyy ya girl started writing again hehe). BUT KNOWING FOR A FACT that he’s done it again, to someone who isn’t me. who doesn’t look like me. who doesn’t have my likes and interests, therefore it was never about me, is such a powerful feeling. i cannot put it into words, it’s the closure i thought i’d never get. i’m just??? i’m not happy that he’s tore someone else down, but i’m happy for me. this is what i needed, what january laura needed and i feel so light and free and blessed that i made it this far to have this realisation.

i guess the real reason why i’m writing this, and i don’t really expect any of u to read this but i don’t keep a diary so in a way this is very therapeutic for me to dump my thoughts and emotions here, this post is mostly for myself if anything. but why i’m writing this is just to say… if anyone can relate to my situation (ofc i’ve never gone into heavy detail here that’s what i have a therapist for LOL) but if there’s someone out there with a broken heart, who feels unloveable and doesn’t know anything about themselves anymore: things do get better. hang in there. i know everyone says it everybody said it to me and i was like yeah yeah ok sure, but trust me, as someone who has lived and breathed this life - things do get better.

abusers don’t abuse their victims because they’re their victims.

they abuse their victims because they’re abusers.

[autismlou]

the neurodivergent nightmare: RUBY SPARKS (2012)

TW! mention of abuse

,,have you seen my other shoe? i`m always losing things“ -ruby

after 10 years i found my way back to ruby sparks, written by lead actress zoe kazan.

this movie placed itself in my subconscious and didn’t fail to remind me of it every 5 years in very cryptic ways. i start remembering a tenseness, hiding behind a glowy haze, maybe even milliseconds of a scene. but rarely enough for me to jump in the euphoria of remembering something u tried hard not to forget.

that changed yesterday.

while watching a youtube video from maia c. ,,how the Manic Pixie Dream Girl romanticizes mental illness, quirky or autistic?``, the background visuals showed zoe kazan in the role of ruby. i instantly felt the familiar tenseness but also a wave of glowy, hazy memories of this movie. as it turns out i really loved it as a kid and watched it multiple times.

that i couldn’t quite comprehend everything, shouldn’t be a surprise for everyone who knows this film already.

,,why do you look at me like that?´´-ruby

summary:

calvin is 29 years old and a famous writer with his first bestseller gaining popularity when he was only 19 years old.

you can tell that he feels disconnected, even though he attends therapy sessions regularly.

he doesn’t really speak about his internal world neither intellectually or emotionally, he just exists in his luxurious but sparsely decorated home with his dog scotty. but not even scotty gained the role of calvin’s best friend. nobody has.

isolated and alone, calvin also lacks the creativity to start writing again, until he one night randomly starts dreaming about a mysterious but intriguing women. this sparks (lol) a creative flow and he starts writing her into existence night and day, literally.

the imaginary women, ruby sparks, one morning stands in calvin’s house, fully realized and whole.

this twist of events scares calvin and he freaks out but starts realizing that ruby now isn’t only a product of his imagination.

she is a sentient human being. he falls in love, hard.

calvin experiences emotions in ways he cant really comprehend, but he is happy. they are happy.

until ruby´s antics and quirks start to hinder calvin’s day to day life. he gets annoyed by her singing uncontrollably, by her joy over small things. he gets annoyed by the traits that he doesn’t share with her up until the point where ruby was ready to leave.

and even though calvin told his brother, after ruby’s appearance that he will never write about her again, he does and changes her. again and again, until he realizes that she isn’t herself anymore, which he also doesn’t like.

so he changes her back to default ruby but therefore, all their struggles come back with the original version of her.

calvin is disconnected from his own creation, even though he can change everything about her. this sends him spiraling in the last big fight they get in. this results in him showing ruby the manuscript that ´´birthed``her.

ruby is in absolut distress the whole fight but also can’t believe what calvin is telling her so he starts writing in her presence.

he makes her unable to leave the room, talk french, act like a dog, sing and strip for him until she is made to tell him that he is a genius while uncontrollably jumping up and down. it seems like calvin snaps and makes her tell him that she loves him and will never leave , while banging on the wall,sobbing. he makes her stop. she falls exhausted to the ground, panting.

as he tries to touch her she runs into another room and locks herself in.

calvin sits back down and starts completing the story of ruby sparks.-

,,as soon as ruby left the house, the past released her. she was no longer calvin’s creation. from that moment on, only ruby could determine the course of her life. she was free.´

´-calvin

this sadly isn’t the end of the movie, but i wont talk about it right now. such quirk and fun🤡

pt.1: the idea

i liked this movie a lot when i was a child, as previously mentioned. so after regaining memory of this film and hectically looking for a website where i can stream it, i was in utter shock when it came to an end.

the idea of creating something/someone out of your brain is truly fascinating, and it always was to me. my brain is a chaotic place filled with characters, memory’s and things that could never be and that always was my reality. nobody could ever relate to my experiences and what went on in my brain, and it was the same way around. the only thing i could relate to with neurotypicals was and is, trauma. it has been lonely, but never really hindert me in trying anyway. mostly because i didn’t know about my neurodiversity until my 21 year of life.

still, media that depicted neurodiveristy always had a special place in my heart, and know i understand why. just like this movie. but i would never recommend anyone watching it without knowing what is actually going on, which is fucking hard because nobody on set knew themselves.

that’s why i have tumblr now for the first time. that’s why im here. so lets get fucking stared!

pt.2: the behind the scenes

,,how do you know he’s one of the greatest novelists who ever lived? have you read every novel ever written?´´-ruby

the problem is very easy to find, but probably because we neurodiverse peeps are pretty good problem solvers. we know how to view things rationally and solve them. because most things are pretty simple if you look at them rationally, but everybody struggles with this of course. but neurotypicals struggle with it way more. we on the contrary lean to struggle with the many emotional aspects a nt´s brain uses to get to their own conclusion.

because i know this, i can understand how this movie came to be. even though its pretty fucking insane to me still.

so, now that we found each other here, im going to start with a few comments from zoe kazan herself.

she tells us in an casual interview on the searchlight pictures youtube channel from 10 years ago (and i´m paraphrasing here):

that the trope of the manic pixie dream girl is just the idea of a girl and nothing more. a idea of someone can’t be real. that’s why she tells the interviewer that she thinks its a demeaning way to characterize ruby, because she is a fully fleshed role. she in generell critiques the MPDG but not in this film.

in an interview on the rotten tomatoes coming soon youtube channel, she told the interviewer (paraphrasing again):

zoe wanted to tell the dangers of having an idea of a person and holding them to that. that reducing someone like that is an own form of violence.

all of this is true, sadly. you can see these narratives in the movie. still, im telling you not watch it. why?

it’s insensitive and fucking clueless.

zoe tells us that ruby is a fully fleshed character, which is true. i actually really saw myself in her. i know the highs and lows of being different, and ruby did too. but that’s all she was, different. even though her difference was a clear depiction of autism.

pt.3: the problem

,, That’s a lot of pressure.´´-ruby

the problem with this is so apparent. at least it should be. but it clearly wasn’t.

ruby sparks could have been the perfect metaphor for the abuse of neurodiverse women in relationships. im not sure if this is a surprise for you.

calvin is a fucking villain.

i dont want to be insensitive. i know that this could be seen as polarising, if anybody cares or even finds this.

as a fellow autistic its hard for me not to think in black and white, because nearly everything could be that simple if people just were honest with each other and themselves.

and i think, if we really going to be honest here (which im almost always), we can say that categorizing this movie as comedy and romance is fucking twistet.

i never remembered this movie as being funny or romantic. it was ominous and still is. u are watching the creation and breaking of a neurodiverse women and its heartbreaking.

calvin is 29 years old, white, abled bodied, cis men and comes from a wealthy background. he accumulated wealth of his own in the past 10 years. he is in therapy. he even has a dog. calvin has everything right at his fingertips. but he isn’t happy. he carry’s himself like a wet grey sock. no hobby’s. no happiness. also a dead dad but we never really explore if he was close to him, he isn’t really close to his mom neither.

this is our protagonist. a basic bitch. there is no way i could feel bad for him. everything he could need to change his life or at least his outlook on it are already a part of his life. of course he is afraid of people just wanting to be with him because of his fame but he never even takes the leap. i understand social distress and and how scary it is to meet new people. i mean duh. but i can’t really change anything about it. he could, but won’t. he lurks in the shadow of his own success and isolates himself, but keeps feeling miserable. calvin all in all is a pathetic excuse of a human and the reason why i don’t like men.

then we have ruby. a spunky artist that is confident in herself and her abilities. a person that would rather risk sounding crazy then silencing herself. she sings and dances and just radiates live when she is happy. she is unapologetically herself. wearing a bright red dress with purple tights and green shoes. who wants to and convince me ruby is a neurotypical hmm? nobody could. but she also feels the pressure of calvin relying on her to keep him happy. she can define that her melancholy stems from her being lonely, from her not being able to do what she loves.

zoe is right when she tells us ruby is a full human even though she was the miracle in this film. calvin was just the idea of a depressed intellectual that can’t find connection in the regular, in the unspectacular. that’s why ruby was so different. so that she could carry him on her cloud of special.

and even though zoe herself said that reducing people is violent, why didn’t calvin suffer like ruby? calvin just regularly got critiqued for his lone wolf attitude.

calvin just was in the privileged position to shrug it off because he believed that he was smart enough to realize his flaws if he had them. in his eyes all his problem stemmed from not being in a relationship. but then when he was in one with ruby, all his flaws lead to them being incompatible because he wouldn’t recognize them. so he found all the flaws in ruby just being different.

i hope everybody can get on what im critiquing here.

calvin, the creator, was even less of a character than the one he literally wrote into existence. he created a person that was in her way of creating a fulfilled live and as soon as he realized that she didn´t need him for it, he got scared. and isn’t that just pathetic? he couldn’t keep up so he changed her and made her miserable.

but the clinging, her being emotional and dependent on him, was too much. so he changed her again…..

so now….. how do we feel seeing a perfectly fine character getting changed in their core because their partner isn’t satisfied…. what does that sound like to you ?

pt.4:the end

,,have you read it?´´-ruby

- calvin releases a new book about his incredible experience with ruby. she now is gone and he hopes that she won’t read it. the only thing that she took with her after the fight, except her own clothes was a ´i love you´ note he had left for her.

in the end calvin goes on a walk with scotty and they meet ruby, laying on a blanket in a park.

reading his new book. she does not remember him even though she feels a familiarity. they start talking and the movie ends with ruby and calving looking each other lovingly in the eyes.

WTF!!!! when i tell you that my heart dropped. i sincerely hoped until this last part that the genre listing for this movie was just wrong. but it really was meant to be a romcom , and i literally felt sick to my stomach.

he got a happy ending. why??

my immediate thought was : ,,why in hell, was it ruby?? couldn’t it just have been some random new woman??´´ just imagine, he meets a new woman. this could be such a good way of showing that he in the end still had a great enough time with no big need of recovery. you see calvin crying only on the night ruby left. than he starts writing, running, cooking. its like he himself starts a new life and works on his flaws.

mind you, after he broke ruby.

what does that tell us? ruby got emotionally abused out by this person, just so that he can transition into an adult that’s MAYBE more in touch with his emotions. for the first time at 29. and stills gets the girl. again.

and the way that the absolutely traumatizing scene where calvin made ruby do what he wanted, never got spoken of again. as if a men making a women do absolutely everything he wants while she clearly does not want to do it. bending and breaking into the molds that he creates for her isn’t fucking scary, should never happen. still, i relate to that. this kind of abuse happened to me.

i was 15 years old and my boyfriend of the time who always has been 2 years older , manipulated me right from the start so i could be whatever he wanted me to be. for 1 1/2 years. this was 2016 and i didnt realize until 2021.

i got tought that i have to be exactly the way everyone wants me to be. so did ruby. they can tell that u wont leave, they can tell that you would do everything to do your one big love right. ruby didn’t had another choice, but neither did i. because nobody ever told me. i had to crack, bend and break more than ones in this relationship before just being so done that you have no other option then leave. but ruby never really did. she still owns that note even though she doesn’t have all the memory’s.

i don´t have all the memory’s, i don’t want them but i will forever know that in this time of my young life, i was used miserable. and maybe its good that ruby does not remember, but he does. and he still longs for her to kiss him again. maybe my abuser also longs for me, the perfect girlfriend, to be back in his life. but thankfully we are not the protagonists of this severely and sadly misguided movie.

in the end calvin gets a happy end with the literal girl of his dreams, even though he is the only one remembering every detail, it wasn’t his trauma. and that makes him the winner either way…

did you like it?-ruby and me

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[helliontherapscallion]

pspspsp can I just request an immortal reader who's life is just dull/sad as hell since they've seen their loved ones leave or die in front of them so many times

but when they meet SBI or anyone, their life just suddenly brightens up? (Platonic and it can be any type of fic!)

(A/N): I got waaaayy too carried away with this. Star god reader my beloved (also, I’d imagine that your cloak looks like this guy’s but on the inside with the outsides being any color of your choice (credit goes to original artist))

If you want more god!reader content with the dream smp, @wooloo-inc has a really good series about a male!nature god!reader (aka, the god of dilf collection)

In the beginning when DreamXD created you (which if you think about it, that makes him your father, but I digress) from stardust and meteorite shards, you were a ball of fun loving sunshine (well, starshine?)

You loved watching over all of humankind, admiring their determination and bonds with other humans (both romantic and platonic)

Your older brother, the god of the moon, told you about how they viewed you and you were amazed

“Oberon?” You ran up to your older brother and tugged on his cloak making him hum in question, not looking up from his parchment scroll. “What- what do the humans think of me?”

He scoffed and glanced at you with his lily white irises, “why are you on about them again? They are lowly creatures compared to us, filled with greed and misfortune.”

“They worship us and that’s how you speak of them?”

“(Y/n) believe me, you have not seen the brutality they are capable of. War, famine, greed, plague, genocide, it’s all something you have not witnessed before. You have only seen the good in those things.” 

“But Oberon, I wanna-” he lightly smacked the side of your head, “use proper English. We are gods and you will behave as such.”

You huffed, “I want to know about how they view us! I do not care about the bad things they have done! Plleeeaaassseeeeeee Beri?” You willed the stars that constantly gleamed in your eyes to shine brighter as you fluttered your eyelashes at him. He may seem like he hated everyone and everything (especially his siblings), but he had a soft spot for his youngest sibling. He just stared at you for a bit before he sighed and shifted in the massive throne so that you could hop up onto his lap. With a wave of a slender pale hand, he conjured up various images of humans with stardust gazing at the stars and the moon with carefree swipes of his hand. 

“They view us as… poetic of sorts. They compare us to romance,” an image of two human males kissing then gazing into the stars laying down on a cliff came into view, “fortune tellers,” an image of the Aquarius and the Capricorn constellations popped up making you squeal in happiness. He chucked and changed the picture to a mother and son standing over a grave looking up in amazement at a shooting star, “and most importantly, as a sign of hope. 

“They see us as complementary, the moon and the stars cannot be as beautiful without the other. We hold the power of the night and everything it touches, (y/n). This is our kingdom, do not forget that,” the image changed to the moon surrounded by stars and swirling blues and purples of nebulas.

You looked at the images with awe, absorbing every word that fell from his mouth. “Beri?” He once again hummed, his deep baritone voice sending vibrations along your back. “Will we be together forever?”

His lanky arms wrapped around your much smaller frame, “for all of eternity. The moon is nothing without the night sky and all of the stars it holds.”

Centuries passed and your fascination with humans only grew from there

When you eventually asked if you could meet a human Oberon reacted angrily and forbade you from speaking of humans again in your shared palace, worried for your safety

When he caught you attempting to sneak out, he locked you in your room for months on end

Humans wondered why the stars hardly appeared in the night sky anymore, forming the theory that they had somehow angered you

They prayed to you more and more, begging and groveling for forgiveness

They left more offerings at shrines

You heard their every word, feeling your heartbreak with sorrow and guilt for your lovely humans

You snuck out of the palace that night determined to make it up to the humans

You quietly snuck past the main room where you and Oberon used to sit on your thrones together and control the night. The large doors were cracked open showing your older brother watching the night with boredom. As you passed, his voice startled you, “I just cannot stop you can I?”

He appeared in the doorframe looking at you emotionlessly, his eyes glinting with hidden pain. “Do you realize how cruel of a place that world is? How cruel humans are?”

“I do not care, brother! They are in anguish because they think I am angry with them! Because you locked me in here!”

“I have told you time and time again, they are ruthless creatures. Humans are constantly clashing with their own kind for the slightest bit of power, they’re greedy creatures! Have you forgotten what happened to Arachnia?”

A shiver went down your spine at the mention of your fellow deity. She wanted to be with humans but they stripped her of her grace and virtuosity, torturing her when the moon would rise. That is the reason spiders attack humans in the night when the moon and stars show themselves and are dormant in the daytime. However, that did not deter you. 

“I have not forgotten what happened to Arachnia, her tale fills me with grief. But not all humans are like that! They are compassionate, loving, and sweet creatures deep down, each and every single one of them!”

“They were not showing compassion or love when they tore Arachnia limb from limb! When they languish in riches while millions die around them! What part of that is compassionate?”

“Sure they do bad things sometimes, but have you forgotten the love they hold for each other? The determination and hope shining from within them when they pray to us? Have you forgotten that?”

“THEIR ACTIONS ARE NOT JUSTIFIED IN ANY WAY!”

“AND OURS ARE? YOU ARE BLIND, OBERON. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE CRUELTY THE GODS HAVE SUBJECTED HUMANS TO? WHEN OUR FATHER TOOK YEARS AWAY FROM THEIR LIFESPANS SOLELY BECAUSE THEY STOPPED WORSHIPPING HIM AS OFTEN AS THEY USED TO? WHAT PART OF THAT IS JUSTIFIED?” 

He just stared at you with angry irises and his chest heaving before he ran a hand through his long ivory hair and turned around, the flowing white cape flowing wildly behind him with unseen air. He walked back into the observation room and back to his throne. Without a second glance to you, he worked on the transition of power between the sun and moon. You could imagine your sister Aelia grinning brightly as she rose the sun for the day.

“You are to never return here if you step foot out that door. You will still have control of your duties of the night. However you will never return. Do not come back groveling for forgiveness when I have given you constant warnings of their cruelty. If I see your face show up here, I will make sure father smites you down. Now get out of my sight.”

You huffed and whipped around to the front entrance, the stars that constantly twinkled and the nebulas that constantly swirled in the inside of your cloak illuminating the white floors below you as you ran. You left the palace without a second thought, leaving your old life behind in favor of spending it with the humans.

When you came crashing to the Earth in a shooting star, you were amazed by the beauty of it up close and in person

It was everything you expected and then some

You heard the humans cheering and thanking you in their prayers when the stars returned brighter than usual

You being completely enamoured by all of the humans, even if they recognized you or not you loved them all unconditionally

You set up a little cottage in the tundra where you could see the night sky clearly with the occasional aurora borealis 

From the roof, you controlled the stars

The tales of you defecting from the heavens was a popular one, and you became somewhat of a symbol of the hope that humanity should hold for themselves and compassion

Occasionally sending shooting stars over humans you knew were stargazing

You have met many lovers, friends, and even your own adopted kids over the next millenia, all of them accepting your immortality and everlasting duties

But it’s all the same in the end: they come, they leave, and they die

With each death of your loved ones, you could feel your will to keep going dissipate

The stars grew dimmer gradually in the night sky

The humans gradually stopped worshipping you as you disappeared from the night skies

You became a distant memory for elders to tell children 

Disappearing from the face of the Earth for a few centuries when you could not take the constant deaths any longer

Nobody knew where your cabin laid so you were undisturbed for centuries on end, left to your grief

That was until a knock sounded at your door

The knock startled you out of the comfort of your bed. Reluctantly, you left the warmth of the multitude of blankets and donned your cloak to hide your unkempt appearance. When you passed the mirror hanging in the hallway, you could see that your face was shrouded by darkness with the exception of a single glint where your eyes were caused by the lone star that was a constant reminder of your position. Before you fell into a deep depression, the stars would illuminate your entire face if you put your hood up. 

You opened the front door without a care in the world. If the beings on the other side were humans that would take you away and torture you, you didn’t care. You’re long past the point of caring for your own well being.

On the other side was a man of average height and long shaggy blond hair pulled into a slick ponytail. He was dressed entirely in green with a green and white striped bucket hat placed on his head. Past you would’ve been cooing at the object, but now you dully looked at the man in front of you. You glanced behind him and your eyes widened at the huge black wings sprouting from his back. You know who he was the second your eye caught the black feathers; he was the Angel of Death.

“Hello, Angel of Death.”

He tried to peer into your shrouded features, only seeing two pinpricks of light where your eyes should be. He gave you a friendly smile, brushing off the snow that gathered on his shoulders. “(Y/n), the God of the Stars and the Night Sky. Giver of compassion to the human race, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Why are you here? Last time I checked, my last lover died centuries ago.”

“Yes, my condolences. They were lovely when I guided their soul to the afterlife.”

“You still have not answered my question, Angel of Death. Why are you here?” You grit out the last sentence through a clenched jaw. He has no right to talk about them when he assisted in taking them away from you. Him and your cousin, the Goddess of Death Kristin. They took everybody you loved away from you. You knew that their deaths were unavoidable since they were human and you were immortal, but you still couldn’t help but resent them.

“The Goddess of Death sent me. The God of the Moon and the Goddess of the Sun sent her a request to send me to check on you.”

You stared at him for a few moments before you saw him shivering slightly and sighed. You always had a soft spot for humans, even if the being in front of you was not a human in the slightest. He reminded you of an old friend. You stepped aside and gestured lazily inside the house, “come in.”

He started to visit more and more over the next century

He eventually befriended you about half a century into the visits

It was extremely difficult to do because of how guarded you were, but he managed to break you out of your shell

You realizing how kind he was and how much he cared for you

You quickly came to the realization that he was immortal as well after reading up on the Angel of Death

After another fifty years, he became your best friend

You both opened up and comforted each other about everybody you both lost over the years

When he adopted Technoblade and then Wilbur not long after Techno, you were extremely hesitant to get close to them

Even going as far as telling Philza that you thought that it was an extremely bad idea

Mortals always end up leaving in the end anyways, it’s best to avoid the endless cycle of hurt that came with having mortals around

You told him about your own adopted children that have died over the years

You refuse to meet them, cutting off all communication with Philza for a year or two

Eventually meeting his three adopted kids when you reluctantly accept a dinner invitation one day

You attempted to appear cold and uncaring, but your love for humans (especially baby humans) shone through when an infant Tommy started to play with your cape

It seemed that the stars and the moving nebulas within the fabric entranced him

From then on whenever you visited Philza, you always held Tommy until he was too old for you to do so

Becoming very attached to the blond with your strong innate parental instincts

You introduce Techno to mythology, sharing stories of your personal interactions with certain gods and entities throughout the years

You teach Techno how to cope with the voices as you constantly hear multiple prayers to you from humans at the same time

You arrange a meeting for Wilbur with the Goddess of Music when he asks you about her

Arranging for her to start giving him lessons in exchange of a favor that will be cashed at a later date

You help raise all three of them, often taking them off Philza’s hands for a night or two 

Their favorite activity with you is watching you raise the stars and turn the sky dark

They always loved to watch you move the stars and summon shooting stars for them

The stars gradually returned to your eyes and a constant ecstatic smile slowly became synonymous with your face again

Humans started to worship you again when the stars in the sky became brighter

You became your old self again after centuries of feeling lost 

To repay them for everything they’ve done for you, you decided to rearrange the stars for one night 

One night of having a different star pattern couldn’t hurt 

Sure, it’d make a few theories pop up among the humans, but those are fun to overhear sometimes

The young boys and Philza behind you watched in awe as your eyes started to glow brightly and you slowly moved your hands gracefully raising the stars with the moon, your cloak starting to flow with nonexistent winds. They’ve seen you raise the stars thousands of times, but it never ceases to amaze them. It was just so… entrancing. 

You broke into a slight sweat and started to move the stars from their original positions in the sky. Shaking slightly, you pushed back against the strain and slight pain that it brought you. You’ve never done this before, so you really didn’t know what you were expecting. You felt someone put a hand on your shoulder.

“What’re you doin, mate?”

“Uh Dad?”

“Not now Techno. Mate, are you alright?”

“Dad, look up. They’re rearranging the stars,” Wilbur breathed out.

You could hear Philza gasp slightly as he watched star after star move until they locked into place. There in the twinkling night sky was each of their names gleaming brightly in small lettering. When you were done, you fell into a kneel onto the ground and rubbed at your aching head panting lightly. 

You could hear the boys around you panic slightly as you regained your breath. As you heard them approach you you looked up at them and smiled, the stars gleaming brightly in your irises. “Do you like it?”

“Y-yes but gods, (y/n) are you alright?”

“I am fine, but stars, I have never done that before. Are you four ready for stargazing?”

“That was so pog, (y/n)! How’d you do that?”

“I hold the power of the stars and the night sky in my hands. My brother once told me that the night is our kingdom.” You laid down onto the grass and took off your cloak to cover up a shivering Tommy and Wilbur next to you. You sighed as you thought about your siblings; you wondered how they were doing. 

“I will gladly move the stars themselves for you four. You are my family.” There was a stretched out moment of comfortable silence as you five watched shooting stars blaze by. Eventually, you saw an aurora borealis materialize above you. Furrowing your brow, you looked at it in question. They don’t appear this time of year, so why-

“Aelia,” you breathed out as you watched the greens flow above you. She must’ve sent a gust of solar wind your way. 

“Isn’t Aelia the Goddess of the Sun?” Wilbur asked you.

“Yes, she is my oldest sister. She must have redirected the solar winds over here.” 

“Damn, what’s with the gods changing everything tonight? You guys need to fuckin chill.”

“Tommy!” Philza scolded and was about to continue before he heard you start to laugh. They’ve only heard you genuinely laugh only a couple of times, so the sound that left your mouth immediately brightened the mood. 

“Yes Tommy, I suppose we do need to ‘fucking chill’.”

“You swore! Fuckin pog,” Tommy cheered to himself as the others looked at you in slight shock at your words. If you’re being completely honest in all of the years you spent alive (which is since basically the beginning of time), you’ve never sworn once. You were raised differently than that. When you realized that the others were staring at you, you smirked at them. The stars twinkling and giving your eyes even more of a mischievous glint, “what? Have you never heard a god swear before?”

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[caroldantops]

the marble makes my cheeks look pink 

or, tell me you love me in private: chapter 1 

(next chapter)

ship: natasha romanoff x reader 

summary/request: a mysterious woman named natasha starts attending the church you volunteer at, but she seems much more interested in you than any gods (demon!nat au)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: references to christianity (smut in later chapters)

masterlist | ao3 link | demon!nat au playlist

Sweat trails down your forehead, a bead dripping into your eye before you can wipe yourself off. The southern humidity is already unbearable enough; but, with the church air conditioning out for what has to be the fifth time this month, you can practically feel yourself melting into the scuffed floors of the sanctuary.

As you pass out pamphlets that detail the upcoming picnic and honor the church members who have passed recently, you watch as practically every person who takes one starts fanning themselves. The flimsy paper offers little relief, but it’s better than nothing.

This is a routine you’ve become accustomed to, exchanging niceties with the people who have known you since you were toddling, but that you’ve never had a conversation past how you were enjoying your classes.

Honestly, you thought that you’d stop volunteering at the church your parents forced you to attend growing up once you started college, imagining moving on to fancy internships or spending summers backpacking through Europe so that you could post obnoxious photos about studying abroad on Instagram. But, sometimes dreams stay dreams for now.

It’s not all bad. You get plenty of good food from the sweet old ladies who won’t take “no thank you, I’m full” for an answer. Also, they send you little cash gifts for your birthday and other holidays or celebrations. So when the preacher (an old family friend) asked if you’d continue helping when you were home for the summer, you didn’t see any real reason to say no.

Plus, it’s only once a week. It gives you a chance to work part-time at the little ice-cream shop that sits in the strip mall across the street from the church during the week.

God, you’d give anything to be locked in the walk-in freezer right about now.

“Excuse me,” a voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Oh, sorry,” you tear your eyes away from the stained glass window that you had zoned out on. Standing in front of you is a woman you’ve never seen before. She’s tall, definitely at least six feet, and with fiery red hair that matches the heat of the summer air surrounding you. Ironically enough, she doesn’t look like she’s broken a sweat at all. Which seems impossible given the leather jacket she’s sporting. “Did you want a pamphlet?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” she smiles, taking the one you hold out to her. She scans the two pages while she’s standing there, and you feel awkward in the silence.

“Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. But I’ve also only been back from my last college semester for about a month, so maybe we just haven’t crossed paths yet.”

The woman studies you for a moment, obviously sizing you up. Whatever she’s considering must end in your favor because she holds her hand out for you to shake.

“Natasha. You can call me Nat. I’ve come here a couple of times, but not super consistently. If I find good company though, maybe I’ll consider converting.”

You introduce yourself as you shake her hand, oblivious to the subtle sarcasm in her tone.

“I’m probably not the best choice to convert you. I only stick around because the reception always has really good snacks.”

A bark of laughter erupts from Natasha’s chest, causing a few of the other members to send looks your way. You give them a sheepish look, but Natasha isn’t paying them any mind.

“That’s cute. Still, maybe I’ll see you around more later.” Natasha makes her way to the very back of the sanctuary, flops down dramatically, and props her combat boots up on the empty pew in front of her. She’s so far away from anyone else that nobody notices enough to scold her for it.

It’s been well over a decade since you’ve cared enough to pay attention to the sermon, but luckily today it’s kept short because everyone is practically filling up the room with a pool full of sweat.

You occasionally sneak a peek over your shoulder, glancing at Natasha. It’s hard to see since you’re rather close to the front, but you’re almost positive that she was staring at you. You whip your head back and try to ignore the fluttering in your chest at the thought of all of Natasha’s attention being on you. At least, by the time service finishes up, you look back again and she’s just straight up asleep in the pew.

You consider going to wake her up and tell her that there’s probably some donuts the two of you can steal, but ultimately you decide not to. There’s something...off about Natasha. Something about the way she just kept staring at you even after being caught, studying you like she was preparing to dissect you.

Unnerving. Intimidating. An unnamed emotion that causes you to feel even hotter than you were already.

This mix of energies has completely muddled up your senses, and you really can’t decide if this stranger is someone you should try to befriend or run like Hell from.

All of these thoughts are pushed from your mind for most of the week. You’re just happy to be able to work somewhere that has to stay cold. During your break, you sneak a little cup of your favorite ice cream for yourself and decide to go for a walk to stretch your legs a bit.

As you exit the shop, you see a motorcycle parked by the fence of the church. You’ve never even seen anyone ride a motorcycle through the tiny town, so it piques your curiosity. You take your ice cream, praying that it doesn’t melt, and wander over.

The church is locked today, so it must be someone visiting the small cemetery off in the side yard. You push the already ajar gate open all the way, surprised at the sight you’re greeted with. Even though her back is to you, the red hair is unmistakably Natasha’s.

“I don’t think that people usually appreciate you sitting on their graves, you know,” you point out. Natasha turns to you, but she looks completely unsurprised by your presence, almost like she knew you were coming.

“What if I knew them?” Natasha quips, spinning around in her perched position to face you, propping one knee up to rest her cheek on.

“Oh, well,” you fumble a bit. “In that case, I guess that would probably be okay.”

Natasha smirks at your squirming.

“I think I’ll be fine then.”

“Was it a family member?” You ask gently, even though Natasha seems completely nonchalant about the fact that she’s hanging out alone in a graveyard.

“No, not family. Don’t really know what you’d call us,” Natasha hums. “Certainly not friends. I only knew them right at the end of it all.”

“Oh.”

The silence in the air is thick, and you really have no idea how to continue from here. You cope by shoveling a couple of spoonfuls of ice cream into your mouth, and Natasha chuckles at you.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“I...thank you,” you don’t even attempt to hide how flustered the compliment gets you.

“So, what’s your deal? You don’t seem super into the whole religion thing. Why hang around here?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” you raise your eyebrow at her.

“Ah, the angel has a bit of a bite after all,” Natasha grins. You ignore her teasing and just wait for her answer. “I have a...complicated relationship with religion. For a lot of reasons. I’ve always liked the architecture though. Stained glass? A true gift to humanity. It should be used everywhere.”

“Are you telling me that you’re coming to church just to admire the windows?” You laugh.

“Gotta have something to do on Sundays,” she shrugs. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Similar answer to you, really,” you mumble through your last spoonful of ice cream. It’s mostly melted by now, so half of it ends up running down your chin. You curse to yourself for not grabbing a napkin.

“You’re spilling everywhere,” Natasha says. Before you can even react, Natasha grabs your chin. This is the most sexually charged moment that you’ve had in months, and it just had to be the weird hot chick who spends her afternoons in the cemetery. She pulls a handkerchief seemingly from thin air and wipes the ice cream from your face. Finally, she lets go of your face, but not before mumbling, “Messy little thing.”

As you try to start up your brain again with a coherent response, your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket.

“Ah, shit. My break is over, I have to go.”

“Shame, I was hoping I’d get to clean up more of your messes,” Natasha sighs dramatically. You just roll your eyes. “Will I see you Sunday?”

“I don’t know, will you?”

“I could give you an answer,” Natasha pretends to contemplate it. “Or I could leave you in suspense, angel. I think that sounds like much more fun.”

[authornina]

The Tassle Worth the Hassle: Congratulations Sav!👨🏾‍🎓

***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***

Chi kept standing up screaming Sav’s name when it got quiet and he ducked his head like he didn’t know who the hell her crazy ass was. She was doing it to purposely embarrass him. 

“Sit your ass down!” Ivy whispered. “You making us all look crazy!” 

“I love you Dayvion! I’m so proud of you baby!” Chi said one last thing before taking her seat.

The ceremony was long and many people in the stadium started becoming drowsy. Thank goodness they didn’t bring any of their children because no way could a bunch of two and one-year olds sit through this.

After two hours of honoring specific students, and guest speakers, Sav was up. He was graduating Summa Cum Laude and Lake couldn’t have been prouder. He and some other students were sitting on the stage. They’d been chosen to represent the student body because they held the highest distinctions amongst their peers. Of the three who’d held the highest distinctions, they voted and chose him to give the speech. 

When Sav stood up the whole class erupted. He was popular on campus not only as a ladies man but the weed man as well. They absolutely loved him. He was one of the few African Americans that attended the prestigious university, so it was easy to stand out. 

“Why are they goin’ up for my husband like this?” Chi asked, being drowned out by the amount of cheering happening for Sav. 

“Chill, y’all,” Sav said over the mic. “Dean Lee said she not for my shit—” he slipped up and everyone laughed. “I mean stuff today.”

The Dean who was also black shook her head at his use of language, but she knew how Dayvion Porter, which she addressed him as could be. They’d had several run ins over the course of his college career. The young man with tattoos galore, foul mouth and pants off his ass was indeed by measure the smartest one in the sea of thousands of students. She wanted this young black scholar to have his moment even in its rawness. This was black excellence being shown at a PWI and she was proud nonetheless. 

“Ummm…everybody know I ain’t wanna do this.” Sav did not try to sound intelligent or put on for nobody. They wanted him to give this speech he was going to do it as him. Educated and all, he was true to himself. “I told Dean Lee I would be honest and y’all still chose me so here we go…” 

“Fucking right bro!” A white guy shouted from the crowd. 

“I know a lot of us struggled to make it to this stage. Not only the amount of work we had to put in to make it here but the pressure, financial restraints, family issues, our mental incapacities at times…a lot more goes into just getting a degree. Picking something you can actually apply and let’s be honest, make money from in this nut ass world. Shout out to y’all who got art degrees, it’s about to be hell,” Sav said honestly and the audience died of laughter. “I know some of y’all personally who went through some of this. To be honest, ion know what it look like. I couldn’t relate because I didn’t have those problems. Y’all probably thought I’m the made it out the hood specialty case. I had a big brother who not only kept pushing me to finish but made sure I didn’t have not one worry while doing it, so this was a breeze for me actually. I don’t need no college degree, but I did this for one person and one person only. My brother Lake. I wanna honor him with this because a lot of the great people, the ones behind the scenes who never get recognized are the real ones that make it happen. I was able to run a whole business, get married, have kids, live my life stress free. He gave me what I know a lot of people who look like me never get. A peace of mind. A care-free life, the tools I needed to be successful and I thank him for that every day.” Sav was looking right at Lake. “My brother the reason why I get to stand here right now…so this to the single moms out here doing it all on their own that got their kids to this day, to the dads working day and night to pay for tuitions, the grandparents, siblings, aunties and uncles who put their all into a kid to see them do better. If it wasn’t for y’all, I’m sure we wouldn’t be up in here falling asleep and waiting to hear our name called for a degree we couldn’t have gotten without y’all.” 

Although the ceremony wasn’t done after Sav’s speech all the students felt every word he said and so did the families there to support them. 

“Wait…” Dean Lee got up ready to stop them but it was too late all the graduates were up on their feet, throwing their caps in the air. It was like a big party started. It took twenty minutes to get everything settled then the degrees were finally handed out. 

“Dayvion Porter,” they called Sav’s name to receive his degree and it went crazy again. 

“That’s it!” the president of the school got up waving his hands then shouted in the mic. “Everyone please sit down!”                                                       ******* Lake waited patiently, watching Sav bump fists with a bunch of people because he wasn’t about to touch all them hands. He stood in his robe, medals and cords around his neck looking like a true scholar. He admired the hell out of his little brother. Not even for finishing but remaining authentic and true to himself during the process. Sav had his moments but everything he set out to accomplish, had been done. Lake couldn’t and wouldn’t ask anymore of him.

“You proud of me?” Sav asked, coming towards him with his arms out for hug.

“So proud man,” Lake smiled, embracing his baby brother. “I’m so fuckin’ proud.” 

“Thank you, where the fuck everybody go?” 

“Home, they didn’t want to stay around for the crowd and all the traffic.”

“Now you know that’s fucked up. Even my own wife? All this and them niggas dip on me? Take me home to my kids. Nobody better not say shit to me.”

“Chill, I wanted you to take a ride with me.”  

“Ion even feel like it.” Sav’s feelings were hurt. His whole family was worried about beating traffic than his big day. It upset him more because he didn’t even care about it as much as they did.

They had to get all of his gifts professors, the school, students and others got for him. Sav indeed was their favorite. Someone even gave him basketball season tickets. Once they were in the car Lake did his best not to laugh. Sav was really upset. 

“Why the fuck we here?” 

Lake pulled into to the strip club they used to frequent and Sav knew something was up now. His brother wasn’t allowed to be a hundred feet of no strippers per his wife’s rules. Only if she was DJing did Avery let him enter the building.

“Because I thought it would cheer you up.” 

“I told you I don’t feel like shit no more. Them niggas fucked my mood up. Especially, Chi, she really dipped on me. Her fuckin’ muscle head ass better hope ion divorce her.”

“Sav, relax, nigga,” Lake laughed lighting a blunt then passing it to him. “Hassan would be proud of you man.”

“Yea…” Sav put his head back blowing out smoke. “I be thinkin’ bout Daddy a lot.” 

“Me too, all the time actually…I wish he would’ve made it, seen you today. It’s moments like this that make life worth living.” Lake stared out the window. After a few seconds of silence, he reached in the back seat and handed Sav an envelope. 

“What’s this?” 

“I ain’t know what to get a nigga that got it all for a graduation gift.” 

“Aw man…” Sav looked at all the papers and got emotional. 

Lake knew it bothered him that he didn’t know where he came from for sure. He couldn’t do a traditional testing since their father was deceased and had been cremated. But there was sibling DNA test and because Sav, Lake, Vant and Wreck didn’t share the same mother, it was easy to get proof. If he wasn’t Hassan’s he’d have not an ounce of relation to them.  

“Sav even if that shit ain’t say what we already knew it wouldn’t have made you any less my brother. I hope you know that.” 

“Thanks man,” Sav dapped Lake up and he pulled him in for a hug.

“Why the fuck y’all sittin’ in here cuddling and shit?” Wreck was about to get in the back, but Lake had car seats. “Nigga, Avery whip don’t have nothing in it. I swear you and Vant the wives.” 

“Fuck you nigga,” Lake pushed him getting out the car. “Stop takin’ your anger out on everybody. I told you come talk to me, you wanna hide out and shit. Think Daly ain’t tell me the bullshit you been on.” 

“I ain’t got nothing to say, and Daly a nut for bringin’ shit to you like I’m not a grown ass man! It’s fuck everything and that’s on my Daddy.” Wreck walked over and dapped Sav up. “I’m proud of you nigga.” 

“Are you really bro?” 

“Yea! Ion mean to be so hard on you. I apologize. Just…you know I’m dealin’ with my own shit right now, but I love you man.”

“I know, it’s cool, I love you too.” Sav felt bad for his brother. Wreck didn’t know which way he was going. It had spread about Gia breaking up with him. A simple, I don’t want to be with you anymore, was all the reason she gave him. That’s all he got from her. Wreck opened himself up to a woman for the last time. 

“Let’s go in here, I can’t be out for long or A will come lookin’ for me.” 

“Cause you a whipped ass—” 

“Y’all keep saying that,” Lake laughed, cutting Wreck off. “But I’m happy as fuck. I have no resistance in letting love take over me anymore.” 

“And you know what? I am genuinely jealous and that ain’t even me bro.” 

“Wreck,” Lake stopped walking. “I’m for real, come talk to me. Tomorrow, nigga.” 

“Everything already fucked up, bro. Gia will never be with me again.” 

“How?” Sav asked.

“Ion wanna talk about it.” 

“What the hell is taking so long?!” Chi pushed the door open. 

“Fuck is you doing here?” Sav looked at Lake confused. “I did not ask to come here, Chi. Lake brought me. I was on the way home.” He started defending himself immediately. 

“Get in here, Dayvion.” Chi pulled him along and it was dark as hell on the inside.

“SURPRISE!” the lights, loud ass music and cheering all happened at the same time. The whole club was decorated in his school colors with a big ass banner congratulating him. Everybody was holding cutouts of Sav’s head from his graduation photo. 

“You did this for me?” Sav wanted to cry.

“Mhm…” 

“I love you,” Sav kissed her all the way down on the couch. 

“Stop Sav!” Chi laughed. “My dress is comin’ up! You doin’ all this in front of people!” 

“Can I give my brother a hug now?” Dem asked and they let each other go. “I’m proud of you bul.” 

“Thank you.” Sav hugged Dem longer than he did his own wife. Chi was over trying to get in between something that Sav needed to literally survive, to breathe and have good days. They were working through a lot of things and as long as he prioritized her and their children then he could love on Dem all he wanted. 

“I’m so proud of you, boo boo,” Ivy said kissing her baby all over. 

“Ard come on with all that shit,” Vant tore them apart. “We got a surprise for you later,” he whispered making Sav laugh.

“Shout out to my young nigga Sav! Congratulations bro!” DJ AP shouted in the mic sounding like a nigga making everybody crack the fuck up. She was barely six weeks post-partum and came out to party for her favorite person much to Lake’s dismay. “This one for you baby!” Avery pointed at him then played Nicki Minaj Moment for Life. Sav wouldn’t openly admit he was a fan. 

“No, I'm not lucky, I'm blessed, yes, clap for the heavyweight champ, me! But I couldn't do it all alone, we!” Sav jumped on all his brothers. The moment was so nice. “Lake Porter raised me,” he remixed the lyrics. 

Lake looked at Wreck who was visibly sad and hugged his brother and in front of everyone Wreck received it because he really needed it. 

“It’s gon’ be okay, ard?” 

“Yea…” Wreck didn’t want to ruin his little brother’s day so he decided to just put his own issues aside for the time being. Vant handed him a drink patting his back. 

“It’s ard bro.” 

“Put ya drinks up,” Dem held his glass in the air with is arm wrapped around Sav. “It's a celebration, every time we link up, we done did everything, they can think of, greatness, is what we on the brink of!”

“I WISH THAT I COULD HAVE THIS MOMENT FOR LIFE!” everyone sang