#portable bridges

[cupofcolors]

moonlight bridge... *goes insane*

raffle!

[bloodyke]

family brought some bug into the house im gonna take a covid test tomorrow

[imagine-nerd]

The yiga schematics are one of my favorite things in totk, behold instant kitchen

[orientalrecipes]

Pasta Salad in a Jar This quick and easy pasta salad is a great on-the-go lunch that layers tortellini, pesto, tomatoes, and mache lettuce in a canning jar.

[sk-ench]

based on this, thanks to @year2000electronics ‘s tag dhdjfk

[Image Description: A 4 panel comic featuring Gordan Freeman from Half Life But The AI Are Sentient. In the first panel, he is drawn pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation while engaging in conversation that is cut off. Behind him loom some skeletons in the dark with glowing eyes. The next panel shows him turning to see them and going “…huh”. The next panel shows several of the skeletons introducing themselves. They each have features that match their introduction. The skeletons include: The forgotten skeleton, the heroic skeleton, the electric skeleton, the mischievous skeleton, the demure skeleton, the voluptuous skeleton, the diseased skeleton, the frightening skeleton, the portable skeleton, the weeping skeleton, the sulking skeleton, the occasional skeleton, the nightmare skeleton, and the sopping skeleton. Benrey is also there in a corner, saying “your mom”. The final panel shows Gordon gesturing back at the skeletons while they sing with the Black Mesa Sweet Voice at him. He yells “WHO IS INVADING BLACK MESA WITH DEFINED SKELETONS”. Benrey stands slightly behind him and to his right. He holds up a tiny skeleton and says: “The final skeleton”. End Description.]

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Hellraiser

So in Hellraiser, the Lament configuration aka the puzzle box, is a gateway between this world and hell

It was designed by an brilliant toy maker and it’s a combination of his ingenious design and dark magic that bridges the gap between this world and the next. By solving the box, the gateway is opened

So a portable portal to the Ghost Zone made into a puzzle box is a very Fenton style invention

So what I propose is one of the more investigative heroes finding this puzzle box and becoming obsessed with solving it only to open up a portal to the ghost zone when they do

My personal suggestion is Tim Drake because if him stalking Batman and Robin proves anything it’s that he’s extremely smart and prone to obsessive behavior. A puzzle he genuinely struggles with opening? That’s like catnip to him, and/or most of the bats but especially him

AND I’m just saying accidentally summoning the Ghost King by solving a puzzle is more on brand for the bats than willingly relying on magic to solve a problem. Like, I’m pretty sure Bruce would be more willing to use a gun than to hop on board summoning an unknown entity unless it was 11000% necessary.

[knight-a3]

Just some pre-triple changer Blitzwing and his best buddy Astrotrain.

Some ideas for what happened to the other triple changers(aka every successful experiment has a few failures preceding it)

I ramble on under the cut

SO! I know the S4 plans had it outlined that Black Arachnia was the one who did the triple changer procedure on Blitzwing, but it doesn't totally make sense for her to do it imo. None of the S4 plans were ever set in stone anyway, so it's not actually canon. I just don't see much precedent for her to do that. Where did this medical skill set come from?

Historically, iterations of Shockwave have been the resident unethical scientists. In TFA, he was shown to be capable enough to restore Arcee's memory, so I think there's grounds to believe he can still play that role.

Whoever it was, Blitzwing couldn't be the first test subject. What other triple changers do we know of that could potentially meet a tragic fate? 🤔

So my idea was that the Decepticons captured three autobots and decided to use them as test subjects for this revolutionary new triple changer idea. Two alt forms? Truly a game changer!

Broadside was a former con(due to his jet alt form) turned autobot. He was a total failure. Never made it off the operating table.

Sandstorm lasted a little longer. But his body soon rejected the modifications, and he went offline.

Springer lasted long enough to be rescued/escape. But his mental stability gradually declined until the mods failed and he also died.

After these three experiments failed, they turned to some of their own troops.

Octane was not a particularly well respected Decepticon, which is why he ended up being a test subject. He survived, but suffered severe mental damage and was deemed useless. Probably tossed out like trash and left to rust. If not outright killed.

Astrotrain: Considered the first success. The mental damages were minimized and he was initially fairly stable, but his transformation abilities became more sluggish over time. And he suffered increasingly severe mental lapses. He'd either stare vacantly or suddenly drop into recharge mode. They were worse if he didn't get enough energon, gradually requiring more and more to keep him going. Weapons capabilities were lost to conserve energy. He was on a transport mission when a lapse got him killed and Blitzwing injured(which made him the next triple changer test subject).

(Also, I don't like drastic mass shifting, so Astrotrain is bigger than the others. And I think I'm gonna treat him more like he's a portable space bridge, rather than big enough to carry multiple Decepticons. He can bridge others from the decepticon base to himself, or to base from himself (it's still a strategic disadvantage compared to the autobots' large network of space bridges). This requires Astrotrain to still physically travel places in order to transport others. And losing weapon capabilities requires an escort to travel with him. The other option is a pocket dimension like Swindle's)

Blitzwing: His personality was fractured, leading to erratic behavior. Turns out the fracture eased the processing load caused by the triple changing modification. But otherwise in working order physically and mentally. He's lasted longer than the others, and his condition hasn't deteriorated since.

ANYWAY, this has been my attempt to reconcile some headcanons with canon. While also maybe tweaking canon a little to fit

[nanenna]

Today I remembered that my favorite thing about having so many AUs is to pick up 2 AUs like Barbie dolls and clack their faces together while making smooching noises.

Behold my beloved DCxDP AU amalgamation monster: DeamonTwinAU and PhantomThiefAU (aka: Selina gives Danny a slutty slutty cat suit, good times)

The story vaguely goeth thusly: Danny is a halfa, the Balance, the Bridge Between Worlds, he is....... the Observants' glorified gofer. You see, there are a lot of cursed/enchanted/ghostly artefacts floating around loose in the living Realm and they need Danny to go retrieve them. Danny would rather not, but they just won't leave him alone about it. Can't a guy just live? At least let him poop in peace! Ancients! Fine, he'll do it if it'll get them to shut up. (Spoiler: it does, in fact, not get them to shut up.)

But you see, Danny has a secret: he was raised in an assassin ninja cult (at least for the early years) before getting adopted by the Fentons. Now the killing? Not a fan, no thanks, he's working on not increasing his kill count, thx. But the sneaking? He could use that. Sneaky ninjas are also good thieves, right? So he cobbles together a knock off League of Assassins outfit, buys a cheap portable lock picking set, and decides to make a game of how far can he get without using his powers (much. He's new at this okay?)

Batman is not having fun. There's some (possible?) League assassin running around stealing verified cursed/magical artefacts! Is Talia planning something? Is Ra's planning something? (Isn't he for real dead? Silly reader, no one is ever for real dead in DC.)

Robin is super frustrated. For all the same reasons Batman is but also because he just knows this new rogue is taunting him. Personally. Because he's Damian al Ghul Wayne and the whole world revolves around him, obviously. (And also because he once pointed at Robin and laughed before jumping out a window.)

Selina is intrigued. Who is this kid? How does he know what to go after? How does he keep evading the bats? Luckily she runs into him mid heist (fortunately they had different targets, she's intrigued but not enough to hand over her shinies to him) and oh he's adorable! She has to train him, it would drive Brucie up the wall. But then she sees his face and oh, she knows exactly who he is, even if he seems oblivious.

Because Danny? He's in Gotham for the ecto, for the Thomas Wayne full ride scholarship he managed to snag, and also because for some reason Gotham is full of so many cursed/ghost artefacts. (Lady Gotham is seething, she worked hard to collect all those curses! But this is her beloved dark knight's kid and she kinda wants him home. But she also doesn't want to give up her curses!) Back to the point: Danny doesn't care about ANY of the rich bougie people. The Waynes give out a lot of scholarships? Cool, that's nice and all. They probably also rub elbows with Vlad or Sam's parents. No thanks. Doesn't care. He's got better things to worry about.

Selina has got a plan though! She's gonna teach this boy how to thief properly, starting with better tools (including the slutty, slutty cat burglar outfit). She also knows that she can't let any of the Waynes (in or out of costume) meet Danny (out of costume). So does Lady Gotham. So does the universe apparently (or just Clockwork maybe), because all kinds of unlikely things keep happening to prevent it.

Danny is having so much fun though! He's learning new skills. Selina is giving him an allowance so he's not living off ramen and peanut butter sandwiches, he's doing well in school, he gets to stretch his ghost powers regularly to go above the smog cover and star gaze in peace. Everything's coming up Danny.

Selina decides it's time to flaunt her find in front of Brucie and makes Danny go to a gala as her date, she spends the entire time clinging to his arm and introducing him around to everyone. Including Bruce himself (who just so happens to have Damian in tow). Danny may not recognize Bruce, but he sure recognizes Damian, and Damian recognizes him if his utterly flabbergasted face is anything to go by. But Danny remembers what it was like living in the League. And so far as he knows Damian is still in it, he was the Demon Head's heir after all. Damian made sure of it.

Oh it. Is. ON! Now Danny is on a mission! A sibling rivalry mission! He is going to make Damian's/Robin's a living hell. Selina going on a heist that has no magical artefacts? Danny's there anyway, always have back up. That necklace in the museum has barely any powers and he wasn't even going to bother with it? Too bad, it's back on the list. He has no reason to be out at all but the bats are on patrol? Well so is Danny. Catch him if you can, suckers!

It's good for Danny, it's enrichment!

[devildomwriter]

Dancing With the Devil | Diavolo x Reader

AFAB! Reader | 5.5K Words

This takes place during the first year of the exchange program. MC is shy and a little awkward around their long time crush, Diavolo only to find his feelings are fully reciprocated in a dance of passion

CW: Explicit sex

*If this story is familiar I had it on my previous blog and it’s on my wattpad*

"I'm sure I can get some kind of sexual gratification just by staring if I try hard enough," you mumbled as you leaned on the palace counter gossiping with Asmo.

He laughed and patted you on the back.

"I've been trying for that one for a while," he sighed, admiring the prince, letting his eyes linger over his v-line.

"Such a sexy outfit, too," you sighed, and Asmo nodded.

You and the brothers and other exchange students were attending a spring ball at the castle, watching Diavolo laugh with Lucifer, Barbatos, and a few nobles you didn't recognize. Beelzebub entered the kitchen then, and you quickly shut up about your little crush on the prince; however, Asmo did not.

"Each time I get cuddly with him, Lucifer brings out his whips."

"Oh yikes, ...you think he'd...?"

"Use them on you? I'm sure he'd only do that in the bedroom," he grinned wickedly, and you slapped his arm.

"You always say stuff like that about your own brothers, you weirdo," and he began to laugh while Beelzebub dug trough the fridge behind you both.

You turned around and watched him as he began stuffing things in his mouth.

"Umm...Beelzebub don't you think Lucifer will get mad?"

He turned around and tried to speak with his mouth full of food, but neither you or Asmo understood what he was trying to say.

"Beelzebub finish chewing first please," Asmo sighed, and Beelzebub swallowed everything down in one gulp, which was mildly impressive if not also terrifying.

"Whatcha doing in the kitchen with MC, hm?" Mammon asked as he strutted towards the three of you.

Beelzebub stood up, and Mammon jumped a little, having noticed his other brother from behind the kitchen island.

"Geez Beel, ya know yer gonna get in trouble with Luci-"

"What are you four doing in here?" you heard Lucifer growl, and you turned around nervously to look at Lucifer, Diavolo standing with an unamused face behind him.

"Uh-"

Before Mammon could finish talking, Lucifer glared him down, and Mammon ran from the room.

"Talking with my dear MC," Asmo smiles innocently, tilting his head to the side.

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he looked at Beel.

"Beelzebub? What makes you think you can steal the food from Lord Diavolo's fridge?" He growled, and Asmo took your arms and led you from the room.

You nearly brushed Diavolo's arm as you passed, and he glanced at you for a moment. You could feel his eyes on you as you were lead back to your table.

Solomon, Simeon, Luke, Leviathan and Belphegor were sat at the table. Solomon was observing people while Luke and Simeon talked, Leviathan played on a portable game device, and Belphegor snored next to his plate.

"Beel's gonna eat full, huh?" Mammon asked, appearing from nowhere. Asmo glared at him and took his seat next to you, stroking your arm gently. Mammon was pissed off by this and sat on your other side, tugging your arm to lean into him, and you sighed.

"He really couldn't wait a few minutes until dinner was served, huh?"

"That's Beel for you," Belphegor murmured, half awake.

Levi nodded, not taking his eyes off his device.

You glanced back to where Diavolo has been and noticed he was no longer by Lucifer's side but welcoming latecomers.

Who would dare arrive late for a royal event? You rolled your eyes as he bent over the succubus's hand and kissed it as a formality. Hopefully, it was just a formality.

Lucifer dragged Beelzebub out from the kitchen and marched to your table while the other brothers tensed up at his arrival.

"But it was really good-"

"That is no reason to steal from his majesty," Lucifer barked, and Beel looked at the ground moping while Belphie rubbed his shoulder.

Lucifer turned his attention to you, sat between Asmo and mammon.

"This is not the seating arrangement, return to your seats," he ordered through grit teeth, and Mammon and Asmo reluctantly returned and waited in the right seats while Lucifer glared them down to make sure they all stayed in place.

"MC, Simeon, Luke, Solomon; my lord requests you dine at his table once dinner is served," Barbatos said with a bow as he approached the table.

Luke looked annoyed, but Simeon smiled as he was used to speaking with Diavolo. Solomon smiled, eyes closed as he likely plotted something, and you turned beet red.

Asmo snickered, and Lucifer glared.

"What is so amusing, Asmodeus? Is there something I should know about?" He interrogated, and Asmo raised his hands and shook his head.

"Of course not," he said sweetly and flicked his eyes to meet yours for a moment.

You felt your ears burning and tried not to express your nervousness. You were always able to disguise your nervousness around Diavolo. He was an amazing friend to you, but you couldn't deny the way he made you feel when you were in private.

Every time you saw him, you wondered if it would be your chance, if you ever got one. Unfortunately, tonight it would seem you'll be sitting by the angels as well, and you'd feel a lot worse for thinking such things about the future demon king when around them.

Lucifer looked surprised by his lord's request as it wasn't originally planned but sighed and turned to you as you got up slowly and made your way to Diavolo.

Diavolo made the announcement dinner would be served, and everyone made their way to their assigned seats.

You weren't sure which one to take this time, but Diavolo pulled out the chair next to himself, and your heart skipped a beat as you sat down.

You smiled up at him and mouthed 'thank you' as he addressed the audience.

Barbatos announced what was being served, and there were whispers of excitement around the room as the butlers and kitchen servers walked out in line to bring each table its meal.

Everyone resumed their conversations, and Diavolo smiled at you. You smiled back, hoping you weren't blushing and your eyes lit up in excitement as the food reach your table.

Diavolo chuckled, and you gave him an inquisitive look.

"And just what’s so funny?" He teased.

"Your eyes light up exactly as Beelzebub's do whenever you are served food here," he observed, and you blushed.

"Well who doesn't like food?"

"Everyone likes food, MC, you just like it a lot," Luke agreed, and you sighed in defeat.

Simeon and Luke silently prayed over their meal while Solomon, Diavolo, and you dug in. "The last time we ate here, Solomon nearly killed us," you reminisced, and a shiver went down everyone's spine, even Diavolo looked disturbed by the memories.

Solomon just chuckled to himself, still smiling.

"And Asmo didn't even warn us," Luke mumbled.

"Speaking of Asmodeus, MC, you seem quite fond of him?" Diavolo asked.

"D-Diavolo?" You gasped and Simeon laughed.

"What? Is it not common knowledge?"

You turned to the others and asked, "does it seem like Asmo, and I are fond of each other?"

They each nodded, as did Barbatos when he approached to take his seat in Diavolo's other side.

"What? No way we aren't like that at all? He's like a gal pal sort of person to me. He does my hair and nails and we gossip and talk about boys and stuff - it's really nothing romantic at all-" you explained hurriedly, and Simeon laughed.

"So you talk about boys you've met here in the Devildom then?" Solomon pressed, and your face was visibly red.

"Well-I-"

Luke seemed annoyed, but the others were amused. You turned around and mouthed 'Hel͏p me' to the brothers' table where most of them were watching you intently.

Asmo gave a thumbs up, and you wanted to murder him; that was such a clear sign he knew something about one of the men at the table, and Diavolo caught onto it as he gave you an amused grin.

You facepalmed and stuffed your face with food to avoid the topic.

Diavolo asked Simeon, Luke, and Solomon about purgatory hall, studying methods, people at the school, everything you would normally ask an exchange student. So why did he ask you something so blunt? Was it just because it came up?

As soon as you heard Diavolo's hearty laugh, you were filled with an intense desire. This time purely romantic, he was so hot and so adorable, how could you possibly keep yourself away from this man.

"MC, I'm quite surprised I must admit that the brothers have not attempted to claim you in some way?" Diavolo suddenly brought up, much to everyone else’s surprise.

"What the-? If I may ask my lord why is it you seem so curious about my love life or lack thereof," you nearly choked on your food as the other watched in amusement, including Barbatos, who gave a knowing grin.

"You are our only,” he glanced at Solomon “…regular human exchange student, so it had me quite curious is all, especially since they've all changed so much since meeting you," he excused. Solomon gave him a confused and offended look but he ignored him in favor of watching your reaction.

Once your meal was finished, you awkwardly made your way back to the brothers, where Lucifer intercepted you and pulled you to the side out of sight.

"What were you speaking of with lord Diavolo," he demanded to know.

"For some reason my love life-"

Lucifer was red with anger, "why would you discuss such a thing!? Honestly MC I expected better of you-"

"He brought it up!" You exclaimed, and he was taken aback.

"What?"

"Yeah, and he kept bringing it back up, trust me I tried to avoid it."

"Why would he do such a thing, how was it brought up?"

"He said Asmo and I seemed close; I don't know?"

He hummed to himself, looking to the side and spun around, making his way to Diavolo, who smiled seeing his friend, and his face became confused when he saw how upset Lucifer seemed to be. You weren't sure what was said, but he simply laughed at his friend and patted his shoulder while Lucifer seemed to be angrily relaying what you'd said. You sighed, hoping you didn't seem like a tattletale. Just then Asmo linked his arm through yours and dragged you even deeper into the shadows of the empty hallways.

"Asmo, what the heck?"

"He so likes you!" He whisper shouted, and you blushed.

"Huh!?"

"I can tell these things MC you know that, you so have to do something. I can't believe you could totally get laid by the prince tonight!"

You turned red and jumped, slapping a hand over Asmo's mouth.

"What the hell, Asmo!?"

"Don't think I forgot about what you told me earlier; sexual gratification and all that, my charm may not work on you, but I know it's what you desire," he teased and smirked leaning in closer to you.

"Asmodeus, MC," you heard Diavolo's voice boom loudly through the halls though he spoke normally. Lucifer followed him closely and glared daggers at Asmodeus.

"Asmo, a word," Lucifer hissed, and Asmo winked at you and pranced after Lucifer.

You were left in the shadows alone with Diavolo, who smiled down at you.

"Did you need to ask me something?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else to say.

"I thought I'd tell you how lovely you look tonight, MC. I'm sure many will be eager to dance with you at the ball."

You blushed and looked away.

"Probably just the brothers like last time, or Solomon..." you thought aloud, and he smiled.

"You've done so much for this exchange program, and for the pillars so far, I cannot think of many ways to express my gratitude but perhaps sharing the first dance of the night with me could prove it to you in some way," he offered, and you gasped.

"R-really? But I have no idea how to dance, I'll be humiliated, and you'll be embarrassed by me-"

"Now why would I be embraced by you, MC, I'm quite proud of you, actually."

"You are?"

"Of course. Did I not just mention how much you've done for the brothers?"

You looked away shyly, extremely happy on the inside, and nodded.

He laughed at how cute you were being and held out his hand for you to take. You took it without questions, and he led you to an empty room.

"Where are we going?"

"The piano room.”

"You have an entire room for a piano?"

"But of course. Where else should I put such a prized possession?" You laughed at his surprised face, as if it were very common to have a room specifically for an instrument.

"So..."

"Why are you going there?" He read your thoughts, "the first dance does not start for an hour. I thought perhaps we could practice our dance to ease your nerves. Quite frankly, I'd also like to get to know you better, and I believe this is a better place to do so then somewhere people will circle around me or in a long dark hallway."

You chuckled and agreed and noticed his eyes light up a bit when he heard your laugh. The same way you always reacted when you heard his. Was it stupid to think whatever feelings you had could come to fruition? This man was ruler of the demons, the next devil himself; and you...you were a struggling human college student with a lot of issues.

After turning through many corridors and climbing several stairs which admittedly exhausted you, especially in heels, you reached two large doors and were surprised by the interior when he pushed them open.

"This isn't the piano room," you stated, and he blushed.

"I did intend to bring you there, but...I believe the view from my balcony is a much better place to dance and to talk." He said, seeming a little embarrassed, and you walked by his king-sized bed and to his balcony through two huge glass doors.

He was right. The view was breathtaking, and you smiled in awe. He watched you adoringly as you twirled, attempting to look innocently beautiful, but instead, you fell over.

He rushed to your side as you laughed at yourself to stop you from crying for embarrassing yourself like that in front of your crush.

"MC, are you alright?" He asked and lifted your dress to check your ankle. He looked it over and determined it wasn't injured in any way.

He helped you to your feet, and you hid your face in his chest, still blushing like mad. He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"As much as I'd love to dance with you, I'm way too embarrassed to do something like that in front of everyone..." you mumbled sadly.

He detected the sadness in your voice and nodded, understanding your decision. Humans could be so fragile and so easily embarrassed; it was a little entertaining.

"There is still an hour until my presence is required, is there something else you'd like to do? Perhaps we could take a stroll in my garden? Or I could show you the view from the highest point in the castle," he suggested.

"I don't understand why you're being so kind to me, Diavolo. Shouldn't you be meeting with nobles and hosting and such," you trailed off, and he tilted your head to look at him, cupping your cheek and smiling sadly.

"I've done so for thousands of years. I can afford to miss an hour," he comforted, and you brightened up.

"Okay, if you're sure," you smiled, and he nodded and took your hand in his leading you away from the balcony.

"Then what do you have in mind, MC?" He asked with a somewhat mischievous smile, and you felt the butterflies doing backflips in your stomach as you stammered.

"I-I don't know. Is there something you'd like to do?"

"Why, yes, there is. Though I'll need your consent," he smiled, and your heartbeat erratically.

"Of course," you agreed, not a hundred percent certain what he'd ask but hopeful.

Every second you'd spent silently pining until that moment was worth it as he leaned into you, eyes closed, and sealed your lips together.

When you parted, you stared at him with joyful surprise, and he seemed relieved you weren't opposed.

"D-do you think we could do that again...for maybe like the whole hour?" You joked nervously. He laughed and agreed, this time leading you to his bed.

You sat on the edge heart beating out of your chest, and he sat next to you and brought your lips back to his.

You eased into the kiss, and he wrapped his arm around you to support you as he deepened the kiss. Your lips would only separate a brief moment before reuniting desperately. Diavolo's hand squeezed your waist, and you could feel his long black nails as he pushed you backwards into the mattress. You let his tongue slip past your lips, wisely giving him immediate access. The prince was likely never denies anything, and besides, you didn't want to deny him. This was heaven in the middle of hell.

As his tongue tangled with yours excitedly, he reached one hand to the waist of your dress and hiked the skirt up enough to reach for the waistline of your tights and began slipping them off. That's when you could confirm this was going to be more than kissing, and your thoughts began to race uncontrollably as your tights and heels came off together. He wasted no time in slipping off your underwear, and you shivered at the cold air against your inner thighs. You gave him a confused look, and he laughed lightheartedly.

"I assume you don't want to wear wet underwear for the rest of the night?" He chuckled, and you turned red and agreed as he brought your lips back to his. He slid his hands under your dress and held your waist, pressing it against his.

He was still fully clothed, and you didn't find it fair. As if he could genuinely read your mind, he transformed back into his demon-self, his natural self. You admired his silky red hair and, for some reason, very sexy horns as he continued to kiss you. He bit your lip playfully and left a trail of kisses from your mouth to your neck, sensually kissing about the collarbone, sucking, licking, and biting the exposed skin.

You moved your hands to his bare chest, feeling his muscles and sift skin and purred happily to yourself. He left your mouth for a moment, just long enough to remove his fur infinity scarf and his jewelry, placing them delicately on the dresser by his bed where he retrieved a condom. He looked back and you and stared before you realized you were still spreading your legs completely exposed.

"D-Diavolo," you stuttered, and he chuckled to himself and slid off his leather boots and baggy pants, revealing his demon form had no underwear underneath, and you bit your lip staring at his firm ass.

"Why don't we remove that dress before it gets ruined," he suggested though it was more of a firm request.

You nodded and unzipped the back enough to slip it off. He crawled back onto the bed in front of you and placed you on his leg, bringing his lips back to yours as he unhooked and slid off your bra.

He threw back the covers and covered your exposed back with a sheet. The curtains were closed, and the door was locked, but he still seemed precautious with you. Just in case Lucifer angrily threw open the door, suspecting you both.

He placed one hand in the small of your back, and the other held the back of your head as his lips trailed back to your neck. His hands began to roam your body and feel your curves, squeeze your hips, delicately brush the pads of his fingers down your spine. You were surprised how delicate this giant of a man could be, and you realized he must have experience. You grew hotter at the idea and began kissing his neck as he left hickeys on yours. Your lips let slip a soft moan, and his grip on your hips tightened as he flipped you over, underneath him again, chests mere inches apart. He was trying to control his breathing, but his heavy breaths were an indicator he was struggling to hold back instead of taking you immediately. But he knew this wouldn’t just be painful in general but would be even worse for a fragile human. His fingers brushed over your cheek, and he turned his attention to your chest. His eyes lingering for several seconds before he supported his weight with one hand and used the other to lightly massage your breast. His wings flapped for a brief second, giving away his excitement, and you moved your hands to the back of his neck, bringing him closer to you. He met your eyes; his were serious and curious. He was concentrating hard on not harming you and looking for any signs of fear or hesitation in your expressions, but your smile was enough to ease him. He moved his mouth to your chest careful not to hit your face with his protruding horns, and you tilted your head back to avoid them as you ran your hand through his hair, massaging his head as he began trailing his tongue around your tit, squeezing it lightly with his hand before taking it in-between his teeth.

You squirmed and whimpered, and he looked up to make sure you weren't in pain, but your gentle moans as he continued reassured him you'd be fine.

You were so caught up in the way he made you feel you realized you weren't verbally encouraging him or telling him what felt best, which would likely help him instead of him cautiously taking each step so slowly. "Diavolo," you moaned softly, face heated, and he paused.

"Don't stop, you feel so good," you encouraged, and his small bites around your tits became a bit harder before he moved to the breast that'd been left unattended. Normally he'd massage one while licking the other, but his weight was too much for a human. He switched hands and twirled his thumb around the areola as you continued to moan his name.

"MC," his voice deepened as he moaned, and your heart leaped. For so long you wanted to hear him moan your name, now you were under his sheets, your bodies entangled as he moved his hand down between your thighs.

You felt his finger brush against your opening and moaned, body pleading for more contact. He let your squirm and laughed as you did so, entertained by your neediness. He inserted a finger slowly and was pleased to find you were already very wet.

"Do you want me that badly, dear?" He asked, and you blushed but nodded, biting your lip. He found this sexy and keeping his hand between your legs he kissed your lips, propping himself up as he pulled back the sheets to get a better look at you. Hit by the cold air again, you shivered and moaned. He moved his eyes over your body before looking at himself, hoping you'd follow his eyes, which of course, you did.

You weren't just surprised by his size but legitimately scare and full of many questions.

"Umm-that's?"

"Will you be alright," he asked teasingly, and you nodded, red-faced.

It had to be a little more than twelve inches in length, and you weren't sure how much you were even capable of taking in. His dick was a sight to behold, and one reason was it certainly wasn't human, the veins were thick, and the shaft had small circular bumps that acted like barbs. Once he was inside of you entirely, he wouldn't be able to pull out until he came. The condom he'd grabbed earlier would likely prevent this, but of course, you couldn't tell. Each time you opened your mouth, all that came out was a moan.

You nearly formed words until he inserted a second finger inside of you, and his other hand pushed your head into his chest. You ran your hands over his pecs and left small kisses on his collarbone and chest. A moan built in his throat, and he rested his head atop yours as he made a scissoring motion with his fingers. You squeezed your legs together, and he grinned as you squirmed in his embrace. He tightened his grip around you and inserted a third finger. His fingers were long and large, and the pointed black nails scratched lightly against your inner walls in all the right places. As he inserted a fourth finger, he moved his thumb to your clit and began massaging it in circles. You were a mewling mess in his grasp, and he let out an instinctive grunt.

He was desperately holding himself back as he pumped his fingers in and out quickly. He moaned your name into your hair and kissed the top of your head, gritting his teeth together, pumping faster and faster until a wave of heat ran through your body, and your eyes squeezed shut in the intensely pleasurable warmth. He felt you cum over his fingers and grinned wickedly. He held your stare as he raised his fingers to his lips and sucked off your juices, you blushed furiously, shocked that the prince had this kind of side to him. His grin was loving but also a little sadistically curious. Probably because he was about to fuck your lights out. He licked his lips and moved his hand back between your legs, still holding your gaze lovingly.

"MC," he began in a husky voice that made you shiver.

"Y-yes?"

"Do you think you can take me within you now?" His words were drawn out and held back an anxious growl.

You nodded, though you were unsure.

"I see," he smiled and sat up quickly to retrieve and roll the condom over his length, though it didn't cover his shaft completely it would be enough to stop most cum from pouring into you, and the idea had you becoming wet again already.

Diavolo's eyes darted to the clock on his wall to make sure he had enough time and was pleasantly surprised he had more than enough time to make you squeal and scream beneath him.

He admired your form. A small human brave enough to let the demon prince slam his cock inside of them. They likely didn't know how hard it could be for them or the pricking pain of the barbs, but they were ready nonetheless. He moved over you and spread your legs apart, he admired your throbbing pussy and looked back to your trembling body, nervous but desperate for him, and he moved his hips to yours, the head of his dick pressed against you. He used one hand to spread your entrance apart enough to fit his head inside, and he mumbled to himself through grit teeth, "You're so tight-."

He slowly moved his dick deeper inside you, taking deep breaths not even halfway in to stop himself from suddenly bucking into you. He was big enough to make you bleed, and that's the last thing he wanted. He'd wanted to do this with you for so long, and seeing you completely unaware of Asmo's attempts on you that night made his temptation too much to hold back any longer. He wanted you himself, and he finally had you. This thought unintentionally made him buck his hips, his cock much deeper inside you now, and you let out a gasp that turned into a moan as your body instinctively bucked towards his.

Diavolo slowly began to pull back, pumping into you slowly at half-length, he used one hand to pinch and roll your clit between two fingers, making you wetter than you already were. You reached for him, and he blushed and leaned into you, finally ramming his hips into yours. You threw your head back and instantly came again much to his surprise. But he immediately gave you a playful smirk that had you the shade of blood in embarrassment. You moved your hands to clutch his hair, and he focused seriously again, moving back and forth slowly, pumping in and out, mumbling about how tight you were until his pace and strength picked up enough to throw your body forward. You were held against his hips as you and the bed shook with every thrust, the bed frame beginning to hit the wall loudly enough to echo down the halls. He spread your legs further apart, reaching deeper inside as he grunted and moaned, slamming his cock in and out of you as your body contorted in the sheets, nails digging into his head. Unable to properly grip his hair, your hands moved to his horns and kept them there.

You could feel the small barbs of his dick as they sent you to heaven and back, you could feel every vein as he pulsed inside you.

Your vision blurred for a moment as you screamed his name, unable to control yourself. Hips bucking together hard enough to bruise and break, you were a wailing mess beneath him. His movements became sloppy, and when he watched your face twist in pleasure as you came again, his delight sent him over the edge, and with one final buck of his hips you gasped for air as the barbs stopping scratching, and he slowly pulled out, condom overflowing with his semen.

You both paused a moment, breathing frantic and held each other's gaze. Diavolo reverted to his human form and crawled next to you, laying on his chest, hugging his pillow as he watched your pink face struggling to breathe. Your cheeks were stained with tears and your hair more tangled than a bird’s nest as your chest heaved, taking in as much air as it could while you came down from your high.

He chuckled as he watched you, unsure of what to say. He'd just completely broken his composure, he'd ignored his title and interfered in his own exchange program just to get a taste of you. But he still wanted more of you. He ran his hand through your loose strands of hair and moved them out of your face. He sat up and threw the sheets off his bed, leaving you exposed again. You struggled to sit up but fell back into the bed. He helped you up and carried you in his arms to his private bathroom. He sat you underneath the showerhead and left the room to get something. He came back with your folded clothes and sat them on the sink next to his.

"My hair and make up," you mumbled, and he laughed.

"That's an easy fix, dear," he soothed you and turned the warm water on as he joined you in the shower, washing off the sweat and everything else. He admired the bruises and bites he'd left on your skin and helped you stand up, leaning into his chest, he held your hips as you were unable to stand on your own.

You felt the water run over you, and Diavolo comb his fingers through your matted hair. You were both silent, not sure what to say.

"So..." you trailed off, hoping it'd prompt him to speak.

"So..." he replied, taking a moment to think of what to say next.

"Did you enjoy yourself," he asked, already knowing the answer but wanted to hear it from you as you nodded shyly in agreement.

"Ye-yes," you stammered, and he hugged you closer as he ran a bar of soap over your arms.

"Good, we should do this again soon," he added, and you jumped in surprise.

Really? Lord Diavolo, your crush, a future demon king, wanted to have sex with you?

"Really?"

"Yes....But can we agree on one thing," he asked as you finished washing.

"Yes?"

"Lucifer can never find out."

You both laughed and nodded before sweating at the idea of what he'd do to you both. Diavolo rubbed your back and helped you to the sink where you dried off, and he used a spell to redo your hair and makeup as it was, though he didn't bother hiding the marks he left on you.

You both returned to the party a few minutes before he was to make his entrance, but when people asked for you to dance, you had to decline even though Mammon seemed depressed at rejection. This was only because you'd done enough dancing that night. Just not the kind of dancing anyone expected.

[caesium-55]

Lewis just wants to sleep. He's tired. He just arrived yesterday from Las Vegas and he needs to grant himself a lazy day or else, he'll go insane. He already planned out a perfect morning. You, on the bed with him in the most innocent sense—Lewis wouldn't mind sex because sex is nice and all but he also loved just resting with you and basking in your existence and your being—freely drifting in and out of the realm of sleep, no annoying alarm waiting to ruin his morning with that god-awful buzzing nose, basking in the silence and peace of a morning in the quiet part of Monaco, and letting the hours pass by without care. Then, when you both get sick of the sheets, you go down and grab breakfast in that café just across the building that sells amazing crepes.

But he wakes up and your side of the bed is cold and empty and panic sinks in his system quickly. He glances around the room. Sunlight peeks through the tiny gap of the black out curtains in the window. Besides the night lamp, it's the only source of light in the room. Your phone is not on the bedside table, Lewis notes. That means you slipped away from the bed and left the room some time ago without Lewis noticing. Usually, he'd feel it if you even just twitched and he'd wake up in a heartbeat, but the jet lag and the exhaustion that engulfed his entire body must have stopped him from doing so.

He sits up and rubs his face with his palms. He decides to follow after you downstairs.

The door abruptly opens with a loud bang, making Lewis flinch and turn his head towards. Lewis's face transitions from sleepy to shocked to confused.

You're wearing a gown that greatly resembles the type of gowns that the female cast of Netflix's Bridgerton wore in the show. It's a mixture of lilac and pink, both are pretty colors. Your hair is fixed into an elegant half-do with a plastic tiara to complete everything. On one hand, you carry a portable Bluetooth speaker. In the other, a microphone. You sport the most serious facial expression in the universe but nothing about you screams seriousness at all. Especially not with the funky-shaped eyeglasses that sit on the bridge of your nose.

You slam your hand against the light switch next to the door and the entire room brightens. Lewis chuckles at the sight of you, eyes twinkling with mirth. The room never feels more alive than it does now.

"Ta-da."

"Good morning, baby."

The intro of the song starts blaring through the speaker. A strong beat of drums. Then, you began to sing.

“After the war I went back to New York

A-after the war I went back to New York

I finished up my studies and I practiced law

I practiced law, Lewis worked next door—"

"Baby, you practice medicine—"

"Even though we started at the very same time

Lewis Hamilton began to climb

How to account for his rise to the top?"

You point the mic towards him. Lewis smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

"Man, the man is non-stop."

Lewis chuckles, amused. You are getting into it. You put your mic on your mouth again.

"Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me

Are you aware that we're making hist'ry?

This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation

The liberty behind deliberation (Non-stop!)

I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt

With my assistant counsel

Co-counsel—"

Lewis tries to leave the sheets so he can get his phone and capture you in video. You stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hamilton, sit down."

"I'm sat."

You begin pacing around the room, hands waving around in theatrical fluorish.

"Our client Levi Weeks is innocent

Call your first witness

That's all you had to say

Okay

One more thing–"

You walk up to him and Lewis waits for your next move.

"Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?"

"Because I am?"

"Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?

Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?

Soon that attitude may be your doom!"

Lewis shakes his head at you.

"Why do you drive like you're running out of time?

Drive day and night like you're running out of time?

Every day you fight, like you're running out of time

Keep on fighting, in the meantime."

Your number ends with you doing a dramatic pose and Lewis bursts out laughing, the sound mixing with the fading music.

"I love you so much. You have no idea."

This is far from the ideal morning he's planned out. This is not quiet. This is not peaceful. This is boisterous and obnoxious and too much energy so early in the day and every bone in Lewis's body still screams exhaustion.

But Lewis wouldn't trade this morning over the peaceful morning in his mind. Not when you looked so happy singing and rapping that Hamilton song. You theater nerd. God, Lewis didn't know he was physically capable of loving a person this much.

"Hey baby, if we get a son, can we name him Alexander?"

"Whatever you want."

Lewis wishes this morning will never end.

[hanckocks-dagger]

Shake, rattle, and roll

masterlist

John Hancock x f!reader

Description: After three weeks on the road, you come home to Goodneighbor to find a sweet surprise from Hancock. Naturally, you fuck him about it. 

Tags: Such sappy smut guys, holy shit theyre in love, Hancock is a simp. Reader could be viewed as SoSu or not, no y/n, female anatomy

Warnings: smut! Pretty vanilla though, honestly, so nothing else to mention

Word count: 6K

Cross posted on my ao3

The last day of travel was always the worst; with the end goal in sight

The morning sun beat down on you, the trek from Lexington having seemed almost endless. There was only one thing on your mind as you marched over the Harvard bridge; Hancock's bed. You had the full intention of crawling right into it and staying there, comatose, for several days.

Of course, it wasn't quite that simple. You needed to unload the spare weapons you'd picked up, throw those to KL-E-0. You also had some things to drop at Daisy's, some things to pass on to Ham for the Third Rail...

You pulled your pack higher onto your shoulders, ignoring the ache of your back from the weight of it, all the junk you'd decided to ferry back with you. The straps of the bag were sure to leave deep, painful indents in your skin, almost permanently rubbed raw after weeks of travel.

Downtown, you skirted between Diamond City outposts, making your usual wide berth around the city itself. Despite being human and technically welcome inside the city, you'd taken to avoiding it, as if their prejudice was infectious. You hadn't entered the gates in months by now, and even though you missed Power Noodles and stopping by the agency to bother Nick, you felt no real urge to step inside.

The inhabitants' paranoia, towards the institute and towards outsiders, made the air in the city oppressive. Compared to the freedom of Goodneighbor, even with all of its own problems, Diamond City felt tyrannical in comparison.

You made a wide berth around the old scrap yard, overrun by feral dogs, climbing a fire escape to reach the elevated turnpike.

The closer you got to Goodneighbor, the hard it was to push forward. With the end in sight, close enough that you could practically count the steps you had left, aware of every finite amount of energy you had to eke from your body. Still, you reused to break, pushing forward, hands wrapped tight around the straps of your pack, like a schoolchild with their brightly colored schoolbag

Just a little further. Just a little more. The turnpike turned North, and you had to duck and pause as some gunner scouts passed, the highway connected to some high-rises, precarious wooden planks forming bridges.

Crouched down low, your calves burned, your fingers ached as you gripped your revolver, checking the bullet count on autopilot and lining up a shot, just in case you were spotted.

You weren't, the mercenaries passing from one end of the bridge to the other, wood creaking under their weight, loud, unconcerned conversation passing between them.

You sneaked past them in a crouch, knees and back protesting, familiar flood of adrenaline humming through your blood, heartbeat in your ears. The thrill stayed even once you were out of eyesight, until you'd shaken out your joints and rolled your shoulders, back to your brisk pace.

One of these days, you promised yourself, zeroing in on the broken jaw of the freeway that you used to find your bearings, you'd find a way to make a portable Ham-radio. Staying away so long was making you half-insane. You hadn't heard his voice in over two weeks, and at this point you would have sold all the loot you were lugging around to see his face a few minutes sooner. You'd pay insane sums to be able to hear him on the regular while you were away. Joking, complaining, hell, even just reading off his fucking caravan logs.

The body of the freeway dropped to the ground, crumbling concrete surrounding a Gunner camp, probably the one those two idiots earlier were supposed to be protecting. Well, you thought, pulling a trip-mine from your pack, it wasn't your fault if they were fucking morons.

Behind the rusted body of a truck, you waited for the perfect moment to strike, listening with patience to the Gunners as they yelled and laughed, carefree in the way only over-confident assholes ever could be. On a different day, you would have attacked with something more complicated, something that could blast the entire camp in one go, but today, you were tired and homesick.

At the right moment, you activated the mine and tossed it, scurrying from behind your car to drop off the side of the freeway, landing in a crouch in an alley a street over from Goodneighbor, booking it as the mine went off and the yells changed from happy to panicked.

You'd often thought, as you and Hancock laid spread eagle on the bed, or sprawled over the couch, that between the two of you, you were by far the one more likely to turn feral. He was too clever, his mind too sharp, even dulled by drugs. You were the one running around the wasteland, scampering like some little creature, hoarding old-world junk, killing nearly indiscriminately. You survived on the high of your own adrenaline, surviving scrapes by the skin of your teeth, by clawing, biting, crushing, choking.

You held your breath until you could see the glow of the welcome-sign, neon arrow pointing at the door, like to the entrance of a dingy nightclub. It shone like a beacon even in the daylight, beckoning you home.

When your fingers touched the door, you swore you gained a second wind, the eerie stillness of downtown Boston turning into the hum of bustling Goodneighbor residents. You greeted the Neighborhood watch as you entered the town, and they variously tipped caps or winked at you, hands always on their guns.

Daisy's was full, the sure sign of a newly passed caravan. You spotted that Railroad guy, sipping from a bottle on the bench in front of the store, doing his usual job of completely failing to fit in by being almost unnaturally nondescript. That might work in Diamond city, but not in Goodneighbor.

Your steps were slow as you maneuvered through the crowd, aware of the pack on your back and the guns slung over your shoulders. You headed for Kill or Be killed, planning to unload some ammo and spare rifle you'd picked up. You kept your eyes peeled for that flash of red in your periphery, the heat that filled your chest whenever you were near him.

KL-E-0's store was empty, meaning she was probably on the second floor, conducting some less than savory business. You'd hustle out of there if you heard the sound of her laser powering up, but you decided to spare a few minutes.

You leaned your forearms onto the counter, taking some of the weight off your sore feet and back, eyes running over the visible apparel, wondering what things you should offload.

Sure enough, barely a minute passed before you could hear the wood creaking above you, footsteps descending the staircase and an achingly familiar voice:

"-Talk when my girl brings something new, call it a uh- personal favor."

You raised your head from where it had been lolling, that familiar voice sending a sweet ache through your chest and a giddy smile onto your face. His girl.

Hancock was turned away from you, speaking to KL-E-0, trusty shotgun in his hands.

If your pack had been lighter, you would have bounded into his arms and dragged him right back to the old State House. You would have indulged the exhibitionist in him, wrapped your legs around his waist and let him stick his tongue down your throat right there in the street.

Instead, though, you settled for walking over, supporting the bottom of your pack to keep it from rattling. KL-E-0's red eye flickered over to you for a moment, inscrutable as always, but she stayed quiet, allowing you to surprise Hancock as he chattered about the recoil of his gun.

You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, smushing your face between his shoulder blades. You breathed him in, the familiar smell of tanned hide, cigarettes and that ever present old-museum-smell that he'd tried many times in vain to get rid of. You inhaled with a shudder, pressing a kiss to his back, feeling his momentary frozen shock melt away as he seemed to register who was touching him.

He spun in your arms, leaving you face to face with soft eyes and a softer smile, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

Warm lips pressed to yours and you melted arms sliding up to hook around his shoulders, pulling him flush to you. A corner of your mind– or your heart– which had spent the past two weeks growling about being apart from him, finally quieted down.

"Is that your gun digging into my hip, or are you just happy to see me, love?" He asked you when you separated, leaving you to snort and hide your face in his shoulder, so giddy you thought you might burst with it.

You swallowed past your joy, composing yourself so that you could lean back and flick the tip of Hancock's tricorn-hat upwards, giving you a better view of those lovely dark eyes, always so emotive, crinkled at the corners.

"Good to see you too, Mister Mayor," You breathed, hands sliding from his shoulders down to his waist, backing out of KL-E-0's store, dragging Hancock along with you. He came willingly, not allowing even an extra inch between the two of you.

All thoughts of bartering, even your own body's complaints were forgotten, your heart singing. You blinked against the sunlight, convinced suddenly that the weather was reflecting your mood.

"What's your plan for the day?" You asked, when it became clear Hancock was too busy staring at you to say anything. The two of you seemed to be wandering in a leisurely pace towards the old State House, but you didn't care where you were going. You'd follow him around all day if you had to. You could be going right back into the Wastes for all you cared. You'd trail behind him as he did whatever he needed to do, collapse from exhaustion and let him carry you back to bed.

"Oh, you know," He said, pulling you up the steps to the Old State House, opening the door for you, ushering you inside, "Was gonna get high and mope around all day, waiting for you." He had no sooner shut the door than he grabbed you by your belt, pinning you to the wall, your heavy pack hitting the wall. "Probably drive Fahrenheit crazy with my pining–"

You hum, smoothing out the lapels of his coat as his hands wander.

"Now, I'm thinking we go up and let the whole town we're reunited."

"Sounds perfect," You agreed, pressing a kiss to his jaw before pushing him gently in the direction of the staircase. He led the charge, half toppling over every step in his desperation not to let go of you.

The second you hit the landing he whisked you back into his arms again, hands restless as he squeezed your sides, traveled up your arms, touched your face, all before coming right back down again to squeeze your ass. Another breathy laugh escaped you, so happy you couldn't put your smile away even as you kissed him.

His hand slid up to your lower back, guiding you towards the bedroom, your lips still locked together.

you pulled away at the door as Hancock filled with the stubborn doorknob, always jammed right when you needed it to open. You keep your arms hooked around him, but you give a salute to the neighborhood watchman stationed in front of your door. His face stayed stoic, either used to yours and Hancock's antics, or from copious threats from Hancock. Both seem equally likely.

He did give you a nod, though, as Hancock crooned in victory, having managed to fling the doors open. You gave him a smile, right as Hancock grabbed your arms and pulled you in. You kicked the doors shut behind you, already laughing as Hancock showered your face with kisses, dipping you like a dancer.

You separated from him enough to finally drop your pack, which thumps to the floor. Your guns come off, placed down with more care, followed by your bandolier and scavenging jacket.

Hancock cracked the doors open as you busied yourself, calling out, "Make sure to keep all the riff-raff out today, yeah brother?" And then the doors were shut and locked. A peaceful quiet descending over you.

He takes your hands, pulling you to the center of the bedroom, leaving you bathed in afternoon sunlight peeking in from the open balcony door. The room was as clean as it ever was, five hundred years of grime that you'd long given up on trying to get rid of.

With the door open and the spring air flooding in, everything felt fresher, not weighed down by centuries of history, but just a normal bedroom. Your books had been stacked in neat piles on the dresser, where you could see one of your shirt sleeves peeking out from the drawer. The bed was newly made, and....

"Is that..?" You stared, taking in the sharp white color of the fresh sheets, looking brand fucking new. Not Commonwealth new either, no, this looked like the bleached and pressed sheets of a fucking prewar hotel.

Your eyes sought out Hancock's, expecting to find him grinning, boastful, the usual exaggerated ego coupled with his general cool-demeanor, but instead you found him looking... uncertain. One hand rubbing the back of his neck like he was... bashful.

"Where did you get this?" You asked, stepping over to the bed. You ran a hand almost irreverently over the fresh sheets, feeling the starched, crisp texture of it, not rotting and mildewed like almost everything was.

"Oh, a uh– new trade caravan passed through last week. From somewhere out west, they've been growing cotton and weaving shit.

As if in a trance, you started shucking off your clothes, not wanting to sully the fresh sheets with your blood and dirt stained layers. You only get as far as your outer shirt when Hancock's hands sneak back onto your waist, almost timid in their touch. You half wanted to slap them off in your urge to get naked, get under the sheets and let him touch you there all he wanted.

Instead, you spin around to face him, guide his hands under your shirt to the warm skin of your stomach. "You're an angel, you know that?" You said.

He laughed, "Only for you, sister. Devil to everyone else."

You laughed back at him, finally shedding your shirt. As you try to wrestle off your boots with the force of your heel, all the examples to the contrary fly into your head: Every kind action he'd done, every willingly shared drug, every situation where he'd chosen less violence than he needed to. The nights you'd spent watching him agonize over whether he was good enough for his community, whether he was making the right decisions.

Instead of bringing those up, you pecked his lips in thanks. With his 'help' (groping), you got your undershirt and bra off, leaving your torso bare.

You leant down to unlace your boots, your earlier attempts having been futile, but before you could Hancock had you off your feet, tossing you head first into soft, fresh sheets. He took over, hands trailing teasingly over the waistband of your pants before he turned to your boots, sliding them off and taking your socks with them.

You groaned, cheek smushed into the mattress, as nimble hands pull your pants down and off. Trailing fingers, tickling the backs of your naked calves, up into the hollow of your knees. You had to stifle a giggle as a feather light touch against your inner thigh made you jump.

The bed shifted as he climbed onto it, his legs bracketing yours, knees pressing into the flesh of your thighs.

Fingers on the waistband of your underwear.

"How about we get these off?" His voice, low and gravelly, suddenly hot in your ear. A gentle bite to the cartilage of your earlobe, the drag of fabric as your underwear was pulled down your legs and then tossed somewhere.

"You know," You breathed, raising yourself onto your elbows so you could crane your neck and tried to catch him in a kiss. You missed, but settled for kissing his shoulder, hovering just by your head. "I'm feeling a bit exposed here. You've stripped me bare and you're still clothed."

You turned underneath him, determined to get him to kiss you again, were met with his grinning face just above yours. "Well, let no one call me an unfair man," He said, sinking onto his haunches, just out of reach of your desperate mouth. He plucked his tricorn from his head, settled it onto your.

You raised yourself to him, stole a quick peck, languishing in every brush of his lips against yours. It was dangerous, how much you'd missed him on the road, pining to the point of distraction. The times you'd ducked into buildings to ease an ache brought on by reminiscing, imagining him besides you, or on you, or in you. Imagining him being beside you as you stumbled into firefights, imagined his hands patching you up, rather than your own.

"You didn't happen to remember to take any Rad-X this morning, didya?"

His words pulled you from your stewing. You groaned. In your excitement to get home, you'd completely forgotten.

"Can't we just... skip it? This once?" You asked, pulling on his collar, dragging him down to lie on top of you, his mouth in reach again. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, hooking one leg around his waist to ground him to you, keep him from getting distracted.

"You and I both know you'd regret that in the morning, sister."

He was right, the bastard. Spending your morning throwing up, hooked to a Rad-Away was not your ideal first day back. So, lamentably, you release your grip on him, hands and leg flopping to the side as he leant over to grab a bottle from the nightstand.

"I'm sure we can find something to... entertain you, while we wait for it to kick in."

You pouted, making a show of how frustrating his interruption had been, how desperate you were to get him back. Here you were, naked, spread-eagle and waiting, with patience you didn't have.

You watched, silently, as he dug into the bottle, drawing out two pills. As he stepped back over, you pulled yourself back onto your elbows, waiting for him to hand them over, or maybe deposit them into your mouth himself.

Instead, as he kneeled onto the bed, he put them into his own mouth, leaning over you to meld his lips to yours. You grabbed at him, feeling his arms wrap around your waist to support your weight as you melted in his arms. Slowly, in long, deep, searing kisses, the pills moved from his mouth to yours. Once they were on your tongue, he pulled his mouth off yours, scarred lips shining with spit, and moved to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin as you gather enough saliva to swallow the pills.

Rad-X was quick to kick in, but the effects weren't instantaneous, leaving the pair of you with at least ten minutes to kill. On a normal day, you would have been happy to spend those minutes making out, taking your time in stripping Hancock off his clothes, egging each other on with dirty words and dangerous fantasies. But you'd spent over three weeks away from Goodneighbor, over three weeks of precarious mental foreplay, dreaming of his touch at night, fantasizing of him in the day. Suddenly, even the prospect of radiation sickness was not enough of a reason to stay away.

You tore at his coat, rucking his frilly shirt out from under his sash, exposing his slim stomach. You watched the muscle there tense under your touch, as you ran cold hands over his hips, tugging him closer to you. With practiced hands, you made quick work of untying the sash at his hips, satiny fabric sliding from your fingers and onto the floor like a waterfall.

Hancock bit into the flesh of your shoulder, making you hiss and dig your nails into the skin by his hip bones in retaliation.

You pull his chin upwards, leading his mouth to yours again, keeping those teeth from doing any more damage just yet.

Your generous hands wandered, up and under his shirt, roaming over the breadth of his chest, feeling it expand as he inhaled. You nipped at his bottom lip, drawing out a rumbling groan, felt both in your mouth against his, and in the vibrations against your fingertips.

You scooted to the edge of the bed, bracketing his hips with your thighs, freeing his hands so you could tug his coat off. Your hands slipped up under his collar, pushing his narrow shoulders backwards, giving you enough leverage to push the heavy coat backwards, the heavy fabric thumping to the ground.

Sometimes, when Hancock looked particularly vulnerable, usually collapsed on one of his couches, bleary with the haze of jet, his outfit reminded you of a child playing dress-up. In ancient coat tailored for a man with broader shoulders, a hat fit for a pirate and a disdain for the sort power he wielded.

You pulled your lips off of his, formulating a plea that would get you what you wanted, what words would make him understand just how badly you  ached for him, just how unbearable the emptiness in you was. You pressed a chaste kiss to his sternum, bare but hiding in the ruffles of his shirt, and made a blind grab for the waistband of his pants, words suddenly elusive.

His hands stopped yours, stilling them just by the button on his pants, so close to their goal.

You whined, the sound almost entirely involuntary, tilting your head up to meet Hancock's gaze with your own, sure now that he was teasing you.

"John," You managed, "This is cruel."

His eyes crinkled, as if you were the one making the joke, as if you weren't the one burning from the inside out.

"Well, now, I can't have you destroying my reputation. I worked hard to be known as a generous lover."

"Then stop teasing and fuck me."

But he only snickered like a bawdy teenager, gentle hands guiding yours to grasp at the fresh sheets. You watched helplessly, heartbeat in your throat, as he stepped back, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows before sinking to the floor in front of you, guiding your legs over his shoulders.

"This'll coast you over, sister."

He grabbed you by your thighs, tugging you closer until you could feel his breath on your [core]. Your thighs trembled, heels digging into his back, desperate to push him closer, to get his mouth where it needed to be.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, hands balled into fists, half convinced you would burst into tears if he didn't do something. You swore you could feel him laugh, right up against your pussy, unable to hear it over the rush of blood in your ears, a split second before his tongue was finally, mercifully, on you. The slick drag of it landing quickly on your clit, lapping at it teasingly, every strike on your nerves making you seize, already so worked up from being near him.

You cursed on an exhale, lungs burning, every nerve in your body sparking, your blood heating. There was an obscene slurping as he sucked hard against your clit, pressure just on the right side of pain, his fingers digging into your thighs.

Your head pushed hard into the mattress, Hancock's hat falling into your eyes, rendering the outside world suddenly dark.

Suddenly, all pressure vanished, making you let out a long, pitiful whine, releasing your death grip on the sheets to raise the hat and see what the ghoul would be torturing you with this time. You raised your head, found Hancock on his knees by the bed, looking at you with pure reverence, fingers running up and down over the plush, soft skin of your inner thighs.

You could feel the way his ministrations had spread your juices, the way the skin at the meet of your thigh and pelvis were glued together, sticky, pulling at your pubic hair just enough to be uncomfortable.

"What are you starin' at?" You panted, trying to get his wandering mind back to the matter at hand.

He grinned up at you from his perch, "What do you think?"

Fingers, crawling slowly, teasingly, up your thigh, into the divot where leg meets hip, tickling. Then, slow, gentle strokes through your pussy lips, scooping up all your wetness. A teasing, fleeting touch across your clit, making you seize, arching off the bed with a whine.

Then, the slick, slow glide of those fingers inside you.

"F-Fuck," You huffed, meaning to say something more like 'fucking finally, you torturer'.

"Such a pretty girl for me," Hancock says, that sly purr sending its own spark up your spine, mixed with his fingers, a slow, tantalizing in and out, "Been thinking about you for  days,  love. All alone out there, with no one to help you out. Running back home, to me, to let me help."

His fingers stilled. You clenched around him, every muscle in your legs seizing, your chest heaving.

"Is that what you were doing?" His voice was delicious, closer now. There's a bite into the flesh of your stomach, just above your belly button and you tensed against it, squirming into his fingers.

"Yes," You breathed, grinding hard onto his fingers, willing something, anything, to put pressure on your clit. You try squeezing your legs together, but Hancock's arm is in the way. A pathetic whimper escapes you.

"Wanna tell me about it, sister?"

You get out a "Please," legs moving restlessly, trying to get him to do anything, go in our out, anything at all. Blindly, you reach out and get him by the back of the neck, trying to push him downwards. You can feel his smile against the skin of your hip.

"Nngh- mmm, yes, I thought of you. Every day I was away." His head sunk lower, chin resting on your pelvis. "Thought about this, or sharing a hit of jet, or letting you pour wine into my mouth."

His mouth found your clit again, and you were sure you could cry, feeling his tongue flicking at the little nub, fingers starting to move again, a slow, languid in and out.

You arched off the bed, hands gripping the back of Hancock's head, legs going over his shoulders, pressing into his back.

"Shit," You breathed, one hand shifting to grab his forearm. The pressure on your clit increased suddenly, sending a spark through you that left you limp. Your hands slid from their grips, spilling onto the bed.

You looked down, finding Hancock's eyes on you. Then, he twisted his fingers in a way you didn’t recognize increasing the suction on your clit until you felt like he was trying to give you a hickey. You gasped, fingers digging hard into the bed, fabric rustling in your palms, hips snapping upwards, further into his mouth.

"Wait, that felt– do it again," You panted, to which he happily obliged, tongue and fingers twisting in a way that lit a spark in your body, like the strike of a lighter. A few more repeated movements and you moaned, probably loud enough to wake the drifters in the attic. Hancock's free hand wandered up the bed, catching one of yours in his own with a gentle squeeze. A moment so sappily romantic it managed to push you over the edge, your orgasm cresting over you like a warm wave.

Slowly, with a few extra nips to your inner thigh, Hancock sat back. Face wet with you, mouth curved up into a smile. You squeezed your legs together, shading your clit from the open air, chest heaving as you recovered from over stimulation.

"Get up here, please," You called, voice languid, hands reaching out to embrace him, crush him to you, hold him there forever. He obliged, crawling up against you, the texture of his pants against your naked thighs sending goosebumps across your skin. He slotted perfectly into your arms, pressing his mouth to yours.

You ached for him, wanting to get him closer, to tangle with him until you were impossible to separate. You kissed him like you were starving, all teeth and desperation, hands moving to shove off his vest, to unbutton his shirt, to get him naked, get him closer. He helped you, tossing the vest and then the shirt to the floor, warm chest pressing to yours, your tits trapped between the two of you, his rough skin grazing against your nipples, heat building behind your sternum.

Between your bodies, you felt his hand work at his pants. You were pressed so close together that every fumble grazed against your core, sending shocks of heat through you. You were so overwhelmed with need you couldn't decide where to put your hands, sure you'd be more of a hindrance than a help if you tried to get involved.

He made quick work of it, tugging down his pants, followed by his underwear.

He lined himself up, your excitement mounting until you were sure you would come again the second he entered. He captured your lips in another searing kiss, and finally your hands moved without you having to think about it, settling low on his hips in an effort to drive him closer.

"Ready?" He asked, and you felt your mind flash back to your first time with him, a rushed affair after a night drinking with him at the Third Rail. Even then, as it was a desperate fumble to get naked as fast as possible, spread over the couch in his office, clawing and biting with ferality, both of you desperate to get closer, even then, he had paused, hands on your panties, and asked, in that same soft tone, if you were ready, as if he expected you to have changed your mind.

"Yeah, I'm ready," You breathed, eyes squeezing shut in anticipation.

It's a slow, slick, delicious glide that has both of you groaning. Something in you slots into place, all your frenetic energy calm, as you grip at Hancock's back, burying your face in his neck as he starts to move.

"God, that's so–" you gasped, unable to finish, unsure of the words. You hitched a leg up onto John's waist, dragged him in for another kiss.

His pace was achingly slow, his touches sickeningly sweet. You focused on the fullness of it, the way the glide and drag of it seemed to fill your lungs even as he stole your breath with his tongue.

You wanted to live in this moment forever, here with him, inseparable in every way, as close as you could be. Hancock's hips drove deep, making you arch your back with a gasp for air, his lips vanishing off yours. The pace stayed sweet, sentimental, and you relished every sound that came from his mouth, every trembling breath.

"Wait," you breathed, tapping his shoulder like a time out, "Lemme, ugh–" With a few moves, you've twisted the two of you around, him on his back, you supporting yourself over him. He looked up at you, eyes twinkling with pure adoration, as you settled yourself with your legs under you, hands moving to his chest so you can keep your balance.

You settled yourself down onto his cock, your hips flush with his, and his hands found your waist, squeezing with that same softness. You set a pace, still calm, but decidedly faster, enough that your tits jiggle as you move.

"If this is some fucked up hallucination," Hancock rasped, voice choked, "I swear I'll lay off the drugs."

You laughed, breathless, grinding down to find that perfect spot inside you, hitting it over and over again, until the pleasure of it turns the inside of your eyelids white and your hands buckle, give out.

Arms caught you, of course, Hancock flipping you back over, managing to land that sweet spot again, enough that the tension spreads across your body, every muscle tensing up as you moaned, inches away from your second orgasm. His fingers on your clit do the trick, a few tight circles and the tension suddenly seeps out of you, a long, silent exhale. He fucked you through it, pace slowing down as you catch your breath.

You lean up to capture his lips again, grinding your hips to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to speed it up, to chase his own pleasure, relishing in the way his pace grows frantic, sloppier.

He gripped your wrists, bringing them over your head, held tight in his hands. Your torso lengthened, chin tilting upwards, exposing the length of your neck to him. He pulled away from your mouth so you take the chance, craning your neck upwards to nip at his skin, finding the soft tendons and sucking hard.

Through gasping breaths, he asked, "Where– nngh– where do you want me?" Your legs tightened around him, hands clawing at his back, using all the strength you had to keep him where he was.

Already, you can feel the way your own pressure is building back up, the way the repeated slide of it drives you right back to the edge.

"In– in me," You gasped, muscles shaking as he managed to hit that perfect spot in you over and over, back arching clean off the bed. You still weren't ready to let him go, even as you neared your third orgasm, still desperate to keep him where he was.

"Are you–"

"John," You cried, his hips slowing as he stopped again to check, your welfare always at the front of his mind. Sure, it would leave you raw and burning, making the next round a bit more pain than pleasure, but all you could think about was keeping the sensation of him imprinted on you as long as possible. "I'm sure, please."

He rutted against you, hips grinding against yours. His head dropped to your shoulder, gasping against your sweat slicked skin, two fingers sliding down against your throbbing clit.

You whimpered against him as pleasure flooded your body again, your grip on him weakening as your muscles shook, legs slipping from around his waist.

You mumbled words of praise as he came, hands roaming around his back, onto his cheek, your whispers of, "So good, so perfect, you're perfect, baby," audible only to him as he moaned. You felt the heat of him inside you, the slow building of fullness even as he softened.

You felt the slow, familiar tingling that preceded the lightly burning pain that would start. You felt Hancock shifting out of you, his mouth twisted into a guilty frown in the skin of your shoulder.

You clenched, feeling the slow dribble of heat spilling onto your skin.

Hancock's lips traced a path across your shoulder, down your arm, the occasional wet smack or nip at your skin pausing his journey. He detached himself from you slowly, regretfully, as if taking his skin off yours was some great sin. And it was, but in the service of a greater good, grabbing a clean strip of cloth from the bedside drawer, cleaning you up in gentle caresses, stickiness removed from your inner thighs, even softer touches over your pussy lips.

You let him busy himself, even as your fingers itched to get him back, wanting to tell him that you'd had worse pain, that you'd hurt for him every second if you had to. Instead, you only smiled at him when he glanced up at you, reaching up to pull him back to you. He came willingly as you pulled him back into your arms.

Tension faded out of your muscles and you melted into the bed, hands wrapped around Hancock's middle. "Did you miss me while I was gone?" You asked, smiling, voice soft. You just wanted to hear him say it, your own little version of 'I love you'.

Hancock raised his head, pecking your lips gently, leaving them tingling.

"More than you could ever know," He said, painfully earnest.

"Mmm, I think I have some idea."

Notes:

The smut chapter took me ages to write for some reason, so if it sucks... uh. No it doesn't (if u see any spelling errors pls let me know tho)

Thanks for reading! Please leave me a comment, or request something, or just come chat with me!

[incorrectbatfam]

Batfam as the bomb they drop on people during normal conversation.

Dick: "I remember one time on patrol—I think it was before I got shot in the head—I followed this funky pigeon to where the entire flock was living inside some old lady's house"

Jason: "I found this jacket after coming back from the dead and added an extra pocket that doubles as a portable charger."

Tim: "My name's Tim, I lost my spleen to assassins, and I'll be your new boss. Welcome to Wayne Enterprises"

Damian: "I remember the faces of all two hundred men I killed. And also the Easter eggs in the Cheese Viking bonus level."

Duke: "You know how Nth metal lets me see into other dimensions? Well get this: I found a bridge that looks exactly like the one I jumped off to get away from the cops only it's on Krypton"

Cullen: "We all have our cringe exes. One of mine was part of a B-list playing card-themed crime family"

Stephanie: "Yeah I slapped Bruce when he came back. He deserved it though"

Cassandra: "Remember when I beat up that guy in the time it took for a grenade to fall on him?"

Barbara: "Throwback to when I led a rebellion against an evil Superman? Wait never mind, that was another universe"

Harper: "My dad didn't fix crap so I had to do it myself. Says a lot about him 'cause this stuff is easy"

Carrie: "I still think the Robin costume is kind of tacky, and not just the Party City one I bought with my lunch money to patrol Gotham"

Kate: "You guys weren't there. That was when I washed up on an island and accidentally caused a civil conflict."

Alfred: "In a different life, I killed the Penguin. Anywho, what would you like for dinner?"

Selina: "I'm not like the other-dimension me. For starters, I don't run a crime ring and I like what I have here a lot better."

Bruce: "Why do I have a Batman budget? Because I'm Batman, next question."

[kekaki-cupcakes]

hi! hope you're well!

could you please do one where jason breaks up with Piper because he realises he's in love with reader since he was little?

like reader and jason are the bestest friends with mutual crushes but were too oblivious to do anything about it and the seven have to drop the fact that reader likes him back?

Thanks

heya! I combined this ask with someone who was asking for a Jason x reader songfic with the song Bad Idea Right? by Olivia Rodrigo <3

Romeo and Julieting---Jason Grace x reader [soundtrack: Olivia Rodrigo]

»»————-　★　————-««

“It’s a bad idea, Pipes!”

Piper pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “You are going to go to their cabin, you are going to make them sit down, and you are going to tell them that you have a crush on them, okay? And then you can both have a cutesy little romantic moment or whatever you're supposed to do in a relationship, okay?” 

“What do you mean, ‘whatever you’re supposed to do in a relationship’?” Jason asked with a confused frown. He glanced up at Piper who was pacing back and forth as he sat cross legged on her bed, picking at her Olivia rodrigo doona cover. “We were in a relationship, like, five minutes ago.” 

Piper cocked her head at him with a raised eyebrow, “that didn’t count and you know it, now go kiss them!”

“Not with tongue though,” Leo added, slurping a juice box as he spun in circles on the chair by Piper’s desk. “At least not the first time, it’d be a bit over the top. I mean unless you’re into that I guess-” 

“What are you even doing here?” Jason asked him, not unkindly. 

Leo smirked and then became distracted by the make up box on Piper’s desk, pulling out a dark lipstick and uncapping it with wide eyes. He turned back to Jason, “oh I’m watching you fail at both of your relationships.”

Jason frowned, “I just got dumped, why are you making fun of me?” 

Leo twisted the base of the lipstick and then proceeded to lick it. He screwed up his face and put it away quickly. “You two forgot you were dating for an entire week, I had to remind you when you started drooling over a certain demigod that you already had a girlfriend.” 

“Okay, that’s fair,” Jason muttered. Piper chuckled and moved her things away from Leo’s curious grabby hands, quickly taking her eyeliner off before he tried to taste test that as well. “But… but I can’t just walk up to them and be like, ‘hey, you’re my best friend, wanna kiss?’”

Leo blinked. “Why not?”

Jason wasn’t sure how his friend was still alive, but then he remembered that Leo had died already anyway. Piper shrugged, “don’t blame him, he doesn’t know how romance or social situations work.”

“Hey!” Leo hissed, pointing at her with a contour brush he’d managed to find, “that’s homophobic!”

“How can I be homophobic?” Piper screeched, pointing to the rainbow flag pinned up lopsidedly above her bed, next to the hello kitty poster and the giant banner that read ‘i fucked your mum and all i got was this stupid flag’. 

Leo just stuck his tongue out at her. Then he turned to Jason. “If you don’t go romeo and juliet your way into a make out session, I will personally turn your stash of musk sticks into soot.”

Piper fiddled with her portable speaker, connecting it to the demigod proof phones Leo had managed to whip up in under three days after he discovered the Pokemon Go map reached CHB. “

“What do you mean Romeo and Juliet?” Jason asked.

“You gotta go up to their window and pretend it’s a balcony, Grace,” Piper said. SHe looked away from Olivia Rodrigo’s spotify and to the window. “It’s even raining outside. Perfect.”

Jason crossed his arms stubbornly, “I can think of a million ways it could go wrong.”

“Well I can’t,” Leo said as he started curling his eyelashes. The speaker next to him skipped a few beats and staticked it’ way through the music for a moment. Piper grinned. 

“It’s a bad idea! I’m not doing it!”

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

»»————-　★　————-««

Jason sucked in a breath and shut the Aphrodite cabin door behind him, hitching up his checked purple pajama pants and plodding through the dirt between the cabins lined up. 

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Even if he didn’t work up the courage to tell you how pretty he thought your eyes were when you smiled and how endearing it was that you wrapped and arm around his shoulders every time you were walking together and how that thing you did with your tongue on your lip drove him crazy, he’d still get to see you. So technically he was just visiting his best friend, what was wrong with that?

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Maybe the fact that if said best friend asked to kiss him Jason wouldn’t even hesitate.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

»»————-　★　————-««

You pulled your curtains shut and waited for your younger siblings to finish putting all of their teddies to bed before the lamps were clicked off. After a few minutes, only the snores of your cabin mates and the rain on the roof were audible.

Hypnos dragged away everyone else in your cabin quickly, but you lay awake staring at the roof, your doona pulled up to your chin. A few polaroids were stuck to the walls next to your head, and the axolotl Squishmellow Leo had bought you for your birthday was in bed with you. You hugged it to your chest and shuffled around, trying to get to sleep.  

You ignored the first tap at your window, which was probably just a Harpy checking everyone was tucked into their beds and not planning to sneak out. 

The second one however, roused you from the warmth of the blanket Annabeth had crocheted as she discovered her skills with weaving. You paused in front of the window, sitting cross legged on your pillow. Whoever it was outside tapped again, so you pulled back the curtains and peeked out with narrowed eyes. 

A grin spread across your face before you could help it, and you heaved the frame up, poking your head out into the night to whisper shout. “What are you doing dude? It’s pouring!”

Jason blinked up at you with soggy hair and muddy pajamas. He plodded through the puddles up to your window. Luckily he was tall enough that you were eye level when he hopped onto a little boulder. “Um…”

“Gimme a second,” you muttered, and crawled out of bed to the shoe rack by the door. Avoiding the floorboards you knew would creak, you hopped back into bed and slid the pink spotty umbrella through the window, opening it up above Jason. 

He smiled, the scar on his lip twisting. You restrained yourself from reaching out to touch it and instead held the umbrella for him. “Is there a reason you’re Romeo and Julieting?” 

Jason eyes were wide and pale blue, like the sky behind a thin veil of clouds. “How am i the only one who- never mind. Uhm… I need to tell you something. 

The rain made it hard for you to hear whatever your best friend was muttering, so you beckoned him closer with a confused smile, “yeah? Did you forget how to use the toaster again? Because honestly I don’t know why you’re opposed to Leo just-” 

“Because of hygiene, for one,” Jason started, “but that’s not why I’m here.”

You gave him a second to think, not used to the genuinely fearful look on his face dripping with rain you hoped wouldn’t turn to tears. You didn’t really know where this was going.

He took a deep breath, his fingers curling around your window sill. “If this goes wrong, please blame Leo and Piper.”

“I could blame them for anything, and I’d be right.” 

Jason ducked his head and spoke to the ground. “I kind of… really like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, actually. I didn’t realize for a while, but it’s sort of…Yeah. It’s you.” 

So it wouldn’t be Jason crying, you realized. It would be you. 

You took a second to try that deep breathing thing someone had told you about, and smoothed out the front of your mickey mouse pajama shirt, blinking rapidly. The reality hadn’t really set it, you were in a sort of shocked state, so you tried to talk before you burst into tears. 

“Uhm,” you said weakly. “I think you might’ve forgotten about your girlfriend again, Jase.”

He went pale. Then he started shaking his head like a wet dog, which he sort of was, really. “No, no not like that. I mean, yeah I like you like that, wait- okay. Piper broke up with me, like five minutes ago, and-”

You took another deep breath and then handed Jason the umbrella. He took it with a lost expression, and you shut your window quickly, breaths turning as shaky as your hands. You were your childhood crushes rebound. You sort of wished you hadn’t opened that window, actually.

Jason tapped again, a lot quicker this time, and urgent. 

Ignoring him was the obvious choice, but that felt too kind. You yanked open the curtains again and then the glass, sticking your head out with a sharp glare. “I will not be your rebound-”

“She broke up with me because of you.” Jason blurted as soon as he realized you could hear him. 

He paused then, and you took in the holy depressing sight that was Jason Grace in dirty pajamas standing outside your window in the middle of the night, rain and tears dripping down his cheeks. “Well, not completely. We never really liked each other, it was all because of Hera, really. We just, well… neither of us could be bothered to figure out our feelings so we stayed together.”

Jason looked down at the ugg boots covered in grass and soil he was wearing. You were pretty sure they were Drew’s. “Apparently she got sick of me pining over you, so she dumped me so that they could make me come here and well, yeah, tell you.”

You blinked in shock for probably too long.

“I don’t wanna make you do anything, and you don't have to say anything, ever, actually.” Jason said quickly, with only honesty on his cute face. “You don’t have to keep being my friend, if you don’t want to, but I won't be weird, I promise. We can pretend this didn’t actually happen. I just sort of wanted to tell you, so I didn't have to hide it forever, I guess.” 

“They?” You asked.

Jason glared in the direction of the Aphrodite cabin. He spoke in a hollow voice. “It was an ambush. There were no survivors.”

You grinned, and then reached out into the pouring rain and held the umbrella, your hand over his. Jason whipped around with red cheeks and a frozen expression. “Uh-”

“Jason,” you began softly. “Did you want to Romeo and Juliet me?”

He blinked. 

“That means come here so I can kiss you,” You muttered, and dragged the son of Jupiter closer by the front of his shirt. Jason’s eyes widened and he made a shocked little sound.

He hopped back onto the boulder and reached up to your window sill though. His eyes were that bit lower than your own in that way you knew exactly what he was thinking and of course you’d oblige. 

“Just c’mere,” you whispered, trying to hold in your smile. Jason leant forward eagerly, and you held the umbrella in one hand tightly, the other sliding up to cup his jaw. You’d wondered what the scar on Jason’s lip felt like. 

Turned out it was just as soft as the rest of him. 

You tilted your head as heat seemed to build in your veins, making your head light. You couldn’t help but pull him closer, if that was even possible, and kissed him firmly. He made another odd sound and opened his mouth slowly.

From what you’d heard from your older siblings, kissing was awesome. You’d always thought it sounded a bit gross though, I mean, someone elses mouth? Their tongue?

This badly timed badly worded fucking adorbale boy in front of you proved that theory wrong. Jason threaded his fingers through your own and you leaned further out the window, drawing him back in and pressing your mouth deeper into his own, lungs burning.  

“Oh my gods,” Jason croaked, opening his eyes a little when you finally pulled away, gasping for air and trying to straighten out your thoughts. 

“Oh my gods,” you agreed, slipping your hand around the back of his neck and holding him close, fingers fiddling with the baby hairs there. Jason grinned, his cheeks as red as his lips. 

“Oh my gods! Go Jason!”

You both turned to see Piper and Leo cheering from behind another cabin, holding a barbie umbrella between them. 

Jason blinked at them, and then turned to you, “I told you, it was an ambush.” 

»»————-　★　————-««

[heartfullofleeches]

This is such a silly and stupid idea but I am desperate for a Yandere x Reader where the Yandere is this extremely paranoid/depressed fuck who thinks the world is diseased and the only way for it to get clean is to get rid of all human life on it, they are willing to kill for a "better cause" and have absolutely no mercy...and then there is Reader (the only person they don't hate entirely), who is into Eurodance, is extremely positive and is a complete fashion disaster who believes it is good in everything and everyone.

This is very much based on my recent obsession with Planet of the Bass but let's not talk about it lol.

I just want these two completely opposite bitches to try and teach each other their points of view while one slowly falls in love with the other

[Here's a blurbo I had in limbo with a similar plot. Yan is indeed depressed/hates the world and Reader's moreso into rave because I dunno anything about Eurodance. Tw: themes of suicide]

This is it. Their final night alive.

They'd done all they needed. Returned a book collecting dust on their desk. Disposed of the tools used on corpses in some other lake to keep their name from more attention. It's crazy how in their last moments all that mattered was the thoughts and options of those who lead them to this fate. How disgusting. They did their victims a favor by leaving them nameless. The murky waters below reflect a dread known long before the plunge. There is nothing waiting for them. Not here. Not on the other side.

Their final night alive. Or so it would have been.

Right as they climbed on the bridge's ledge, back facing the sky, small beads of light rose from the hill adjacent. The tiny orbs merge into separate distinct figures on the horizon. Wheeling onto the scene, the group ride with vehicles unusual for the terrain. Rollerskates, skateboards, electric scooters. They wear some matter of bright clothing with glowsticks and lights dangling from their person in flashy jewelry and attached to headphones they wore. They all seemed to be equipped with some type of earwear and dancing to their own beat while still moving as one.

The group stop at the other side of the road, all oblivious to the shadow lurking across the way. They glared - climbing down from the ledge and sitting upon it, seething. The group may not notice them now, but they'd surely catch on at most inconvenient time. It would seem their presence wasn't completely ignored as one head turns their way. One of the figures wearing skates waves, pointing to one of the many necklaces around their neck. The shadow avoids their smile, praying they get the message.

They don't.

Sparkling wheels crunch over gravel. "Hey."

Silence.

They remove their headphones. "Hey!"

Nothing. Persisting, the person wheels over to the railing, leaning against it as they breath in the salty air. "Long drop down. Won't be quick."

As if that would deter them.

"I won't get on your case. We've all been there at some point. Life sucks, and then you did. Feels like your taking control by going out on your own terms, but you won't and may never will. That's why it's important to enjoy the little things. It's why I hang out with those guys. We get together every once and a while. Party on wheels as some of us call it. Lots of fun."

The party-goer takes off their headphones and places their music player on the railing. "This is what I listen to when I'm down. Maybe it can help you. Maybe not - but I'd like you to return it some day. My name is Y/n, by the way. Just so you know when we meet again."

You take off your necklace and offer it to them. They take it - just to get you to leave them alone. You solemnly wave again, returning to your group and taking over the mantle of carrying the portable speaker another brought with them. You take their arm, balancing skillfully on your wheels as you dance the fleeting night away with no care of the coming dawn.

Your type were the worse of all. Giving them more tasks to complete before they departed from this miserable world. They hated carrying the duties given by others on their shoulders so much they couldn't pass on, but looking at your smiling face, sorting through the music that got you through the toughest - they couldn't see themselves from fulfilling their end of the deal you set anywhere in the near future.

For once in their life living in someone's else's shadow didn't seem so bad.

[binomech]

I’ve talked about how I think the past defines, haunts and shackles Kim (his seolite grandparents coming to Insulinde, the commune’s fate that it shared with his parents, the presence of the coalition in Revachol and its moralist ideals, his experience as a seolite gay man in the RCM, eyes’ death) and how he cannot let himself not be haunted because it’s a reminder of all the things that could happen to him if he slips for a second. He wears the aerostatic brigade jacket as armor against oblivion (+1 Volta do Mar against the Pale, the physical embodiment of all things forgotten).

He states that his preferred medium for thought is his Mnemotechnique notebook, which is an A6 size (extremely portable), equipped with two pens (just in case) and brought out constantly throughout the story in case-related contexts (even the notes regarding Harry are framed in a professional let’s-see-this-through way, and you can see he keeps notes for previous cases on the Cuno route) and references memory in its very name.

I think this fear of the unknown, of forgetting his place, of losing the important things is informed by many things in his personal history and is shown through many aspects of his dialog in the game, but I want to talk about his gun and his camera.

His Kiejl A9 Armistice is stated to be a single-shot (presumably Kim brought ammo along) – The two shots he can take are the shot at the belt buckle, and the shot at Ruud. His shots have to matter in the heat of the moment, he only gets one chance.

Much like his gun shots, his camera shots are also limited: He brings the Trigat Sunshine Mini and two glass ampoules that break whenever he takes a picture to release the ink. Even Harry is aware of how precious they are if he has enough Interfacing. The two pictures that can be taken are of Ellis Kortenaer’s hanged corpse, and of the Insulindian Phasmid.

His eyesight is the lens between him self, his mind and his flesh, and the target of the shot. And much like any lens, it colors and shapes the thing on the other side of it and every interaction of the self and the other is mediated by it. In this case his visual impairment is a big part of that understanding of that which is outside of the self and a big obstacle for getting the self to cooperate with the outside. 

Memory, remembering is something that anchors Kim and sight loss is an obstacle for that as well. You will miss important details (and what if those are the difference between life and death?) and even if you do see them, given enough time, you will forget them alongside things that weren’t minor at all, faces, thoughts, life experiences. This is inevitable for anyone, but made more evident and frustrating when it interferes with the identity you cling to: policeman, driver, the inhabitant of the Revolution’s abattoir.

The photo of the Hanged Man is taken to show something you want to understand but don’t to someone else who might (Ellis’ tattoos); you can justify it as a necessary part of police work, the cataloguing of evidence and the piecing together of clues. The photo of the Phasmid is also a capturing of the things you cannot comprehend but are a witness to, to communicate something to someone who might understand this wonder. This is also proof of something, but something that you can’t justify using your finite ampoule budget on. 

But Kim, who clings to memory, who records everything in a notebook and dreams of the people he couldn’t save, still takes this picture of something that he couldn’t believe existed until he saw it with his unreliable eyes.

Harry asks if he sees it and, god, yes, he does. And that photo is proof of it, proof of Harry, proof of all the life that is out there that he refuses to let himself imagine. He uses his rare shot to capture this of all things.

Memory is a lens between us and the world: What was, who we were. A photo is the bridge between the past and the present, allowing our memories to remain. Kim’s choice to preserve this thing, unrelated to his role in the RCM, is also a choice to look at the world and all the things that could be forgotten, and wanting them to remain. He has one bullet, two ampoules, one shot at living - use them.

[otgo-brooklyn]

Big Brother Slider, the true Mom Friend™

So we all have that friend, who is 100% the mom friend. And listen, are both Slider and Ice little shits of their own devices? Yes, but i'd say that Ice can be a solid Mom friend, when needed. BUT, when with Slider it just goes out of the window, and pair that with Big Brother!Slider, and you have one hell of a head cannon there.

Every time that they go to the bar, Slider doesn't even leave Ice's side, guards his drink like a feral dog, and rounds Ice up when it's time to go home

Stops Ice from having fun recklessly endangering himself

Once at the bar Ice was on his 5th Whiskey sour before a table sent over 3 shots of tequila, Ice smiled and brought one up to toast, and using his mom senses common sense, Slider abandons his chat with Goose and is at Ice's side in about 3.5 seconds saying "no no no no" takes the shots and whiskey sours out of his hand and drags Ice home

Nearly had an aneurism when he found out Ice let someone else (Goose) drive him somewhere

"YOU LET SOMEONE DRIVE YOU? WHAT IF THEY WERE TRYING TO KIDNAP YOU? KIDNAP THEN KILL YOU!? YOU KNOW PEOPLE HAVE A THING FOR YOUNG BLONDES" "WE WERE BOTH GOING BACK TO BASE, AND IM 24" "SO?? YOU'RE PRACTICALLY A BABY" "IT WAS GOOSE! AND YOU'RE ONLY A COUPLE YEARS OLDER THAN ME" "AND?? HE HAS A MUSTACHE! YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU'D TRUST SOMEONE WITH A MUSTACHE??" "YOU WERE IN THE CAR WITH ME!" "SO??"

Slider always, ALWAYS has snacks and Capri-Suns on his person incase Ice gets hungry

It's like clockwork, every time Ice starts to get hungry, hangry, cranky etc. Slider is there handing over a Capri-Sun and some carrot sticks or apple slices

"Well maybe if you didn-" Ice starts before being interrupted by Slider shoving an apple slice into his mouth mid sentence, and stopping what seems to be the next arguing match between him and Maverick in it's tracks. Ice just glowers at Slider with a pout and starts chewing on his apple slice. "I told you not to skip breakfast, now you're gonna be cranky" "Bite m-" and once more Ice is silenced with an apple slice, as Goose and Mav along with the rest of the flyboys watch on in fascinated horror as Ice's temper is swiftly and expertly derailed by Slider and his apple slices. When they're finished Slider promptly procured a Capri-Sun from somewhere and quickly shoved it within Ice's hands before he had a chance to protest. "No" Ice said looking at Slider "Drink it" "No" "Ice" "I don't want to, so im not" "Toma Mikhailovich so help me god" Slider starts, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Ice just huffs and starts to drink. The flyboys never recovered from this.

Once when filing paperwork Ice got a paper cut, as people do, and the cut is small but the tiniest, tiniest, itty bitty drop of blood wells forward and Slider already has a portable First Aid kit spread out on the desk, Neosporin on a bandaid before being wrapped around Ice's finger and Ice doesn't even blink

It's a whole 10 second ordeal and they just continue on with their lives like nothing happened

Ice coughed once after accidentally being caught out in the rain and Slider straight up commandeers the kitchen to make more soup than Ice could ever possibly consume fully convinced Ice is coming down with something

Admittedly, Ice did in fact get the flu, but Slider was too concerned to say "I told you so"

Despite everything, Slider and Ice (platonically) love each other, and Slider is 100% the mom friend between the two of them

If I forgot anything feel free to tell me!