#also almost half the set non existent for me :(

[josephtrohman]

now that the starry eyes of just happy to have fob are gone i do feel a bit robbed. i AM still glad it happened at all but i’m sad at how much we had to miss and how much of a shit show it truly was. at least we got fame < infamy tho

#i see what u all we’re saying about them playing faster #*were #i genuinely didn’t notice in the moment #my baby girl heaven iowa suffering particularly 💔 #upon listening to my video of it :( #also almost half the set non existent for me :( #turns out not hearing xo was the least of my problems </3 #also like i mean i was willing to see fob even if it was their singles only thing they did in most recent tours before this #but it sucks that this tour Isn’t like that and that’s still essentially what i got </3

[breathlesswinds]

(Devlog) What We Learned Making A Trans Dating Game

Hello, Amelia here, the writer for Breathless Winds. It's been 250,000+ words, countless revisions, and three years since this game entered development, and I wanted to talk about what I've learned leading up to release.

The concept for Breathless Winds was actually sort of a joke between friends. I was talking with Doris about how there should be a dating game where you play as a trans woman and your dating options revolve around certain ‘tropes’ we’d both seen in trans fiction-- the totally accepting cishet guy who falls in love with the trans heroine before she even knows she’s a woman, the cool trans woman who the heroine doesn’t know if she wants to date or wants to be, and so on.

Doris wound up suggesting we make this game ourselves. We both like visual novels and want to tell LGBT stories. Still half-jokingly and half-seriously, we started fleshing out what the romance options would be and coming up with a setting-- and soon, we were fully committed to making this game real.

I was a fan of visual novels but had only ever written prose. I knew which visual novels I liked and which scenes stood out, but I didn’t know why they did or how to make my own. 

I read some great advice from visual novel developers, but a good amount of my knowledge came from just working on Breathless Winds. As our first project, this game has grown a lot with us and we’ve learned a lot while making it.

Learning How to Write Visual Novels

A bad habit I had to break out of was only using the ‘novel’ part of the game and not the ‘visual’ part. I would sometimes write “He smiled” or lines like that, and Doris informed me that we can convey this much more simply with a sprite change.

It sounds obvious in retrospect, but lines like that are often pretty invisible when you’re reading a non-visual novel. These lines change the sprite of the character inside your head (if that makes sense, haha). I realized that I’m so used to them being ‘invisible’ that I didn’t notice their absence in visual novels I liked, so I would accidentally include them while writing. 

I was also writing these routes in a word processor, so I didn’t have the visual portion to reference, myself. I wound up making a lot of ‘tone’ notes like, “Lantana should be smug here” so that the meaning would carry when revising and implementing these into Ren’py. 

So, while visual novels share a lot with prose, they’re an entirely different medium. On the subject of representing things visually, I’ve struggled trying to figure out how much can be visually represented and how much should be written. 

Every asset in the game has to be drawn by Doris, so if I want the characters to go to a new location for a scene, I have to keep in mind that’s another background that Doris has to draw. If I want a new character to show up, that’s another sprite she has to draw. I don’t want to overload her, but if I’m trying to avoid this entirely, characters sometimes wind up standing in one room talking for ages without anything significant changing on-screen.

I’ve learned that it’s recommended for something to almost always be changing on-screen, though, so sometimes I just have to ask Doris to make a new asset for a certain scene. I still try to stick to locations/characters that already exist more often than not.

Every single thing in a visual novel is deliberate. Another thing I’ve had to learn that I never even considered before is how to write each line so it fits in the text box. It sounds obvious, but when I’m playing a visual novel, I don’t usually think about how each line has to be carefully constructed so it doesn’t need to be split up into two or more text boxes. In my mind, if a visual novel is well-created, there’s not much that breaks a reader’s immersion.

Planning & Outlining

The previous section might sound really weird to some people, so let me elaborate.  I’m a lifelong ‘write by the seat of your pants’-er, so the biggest trial-and-error of creating Breathless Winds for me was planning out the game.

Initially, I created outlines for each of the four routes, and we agreed ahead of time on which CGs each route would have. That way, Doris could draw the necessary backgrounds and CGs while I was in the long process of drafting this game.  My original outlines weren’t great. I know a lot of people have different experiences with writing, but for me personally, a story is always shaping itself in my mind. When I started making the outlines for Breathless Winds, I knew the concepts we wanted to convey, but I didn’t know what each route (and the game as a whole) was really about yet. This might sound weird and unprofessional, but sometimes, I don’t know what a story is about until I finish the first draft.

So while I was writing, I would look at my outlines and I would think, “this doesn’t actually make sense, he wouldn’t say that” or “this plot point would work better if moved to this other section” or “there’s a plot hole here I didn’t notice”. The story wound up changing a lot in this way as I learned what it’s really ‘about’. 

And even after I finished the first draft, I’d get feedback from Doris and/or my editor and they would suggest fixes to problems that even I hadn’t noticed, and then I would revise the route some more, and later on I’d come back and need to redo part of the route to comply with something I wrote in a later route-- I haven’t really felt ‘finished’ with Breathless Winds at any point, and I think I’ll still feel this way after the game is released.

This means that sometimes, a background was created but would go unused because there was no space for the scene that would use it, or we’d need a new CG last-minute, or so on. 

When I’m figuring things out as I go while writing a non-VN, the only person that I can adversely affect is my own self… so I’m eternally grateful for all of Doris’s patience with me on this matter. I think Breathless Winds has come out a much better game for all the re-plotting and revision. 

I redid the outlines several times as I went. I think I’ve understood how to create outlines that personally work for me-- ‘living’ outlines that hit all the main points, but leave wiggle room for moments when a character does something unexpected, work the best for me.

Scope Creep

So, originally, each route was meant to be 40,000 words. “With four routes, that’s only 160,000 words!” I thought. “And some of my favorite visual novels are about that long, so I can write that much, too!” ← clueless

This is the most infamous mistake that new creators make, and I walked right into it. I should have known better since I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with past non-VN writing projects before, but I was starry-eyed and didn’t realize how much work it is to make a VN. Some of those favorite visual novels I referenced were made by much larger teams, writers whose full-time job was writing (I wrote all of these routes on the side while working at a day job). 

If I could have done it again, I would have asked Doris to start out with a really short VN. But, I don’t regret making Breathless Winds at all. It’s brought Doris and I a lot closer, for one. Every time I thought I wanted to give up on this, Doris would motivate me to continue. Without the two of us both and our strong friendship, Breathless Winds wouldn’t exist, and I think that’s beautiful. 

No matter what, we’re going to see it through to the end. (I hope people like it, though…)

Anyway, here I am talking about how much 40,000 words is. Each route now is about 60k to 70k words. The problem with having evolving outlines is that they can often evolve into double their original size.

We came up with the idea of the poachers really early in development, and then not addressing the poachers felt like a failing, but by that point it was too late to remove the poachers entirely… and so the game wound up a lot longer dealing with the poachers. 

I think that if we had an editor sooner on in the game’s development, then we might have had someone to tell us, “do you really need all of this in the game? Does this plot point really need to be there? Will you be able to write all of this in a reasonable amount of time?”, haha. But Doris and I were really excited about the possibilities of this game when we started creating it, and without anyone to reel us back in, we wound up coming up with more and more things we wanted to put in the game.

Did you know there was going to be an island full of talking rats who say things like “the big cheese” and stuff all the time in Breathless Winds? Yeah. 

The Core Design Philosophy of Breathless Winds

So, for anyone who’s read this far but doesn’t know yet-- the premise of Breathless Winds is that you play as a trans woman who doesn’t know she’s trans yet, and she finds love with one of four love interests as she discovers her gender identity. 

In real life, it can be a lot messier for a person to date when discovering their gender identity. To put it briefly and mildly, a trans person’s life and sense of personal identity can rapidly change during a gender crisis and the early stages of transition. 

However, we wanted to make this game a ‘wish-fulfillment’ type story-- a trans fantasy about acceptance, community, and love. During a gender crisis, it can be easy to feel as if one has lost touch with themselves and become isolated from others. A sincere wish shared by many trans people is to be accepted, loved, and even celebrated as their true gender, not just tolerated. 

Since many trans people don’t get love and acceptance in real life, especially with the ongoing transphobic moral panic, we wanted to create a game that would bring this feeling of trans joy and celebration to trans audiences. 

We also hope that cis players will still enjoy the story and characters, and maybe come away from the game with a new understanding about being transgender and other aspects of LGBT identity (although we never intended this game to be ‘educational’).

Making Characters that Celebrate Trans Identity

Although we went through several revisions, the core identities of each character stayed the same since the game was first ‘jokingly’ pitched. In another post, I discussed how each character is themed around a change in seasons. (I also wound up theming them around the four humors when I was initially concepting them-- I really wanted to avoid too much ‘overlap’ in the LI’s personalities, haha). 

Ultimately, characters are created to serve a role. The LIs in Breathless Winds were designed to be love interests, of course-- characters who would appeal to the hypothetical trans femme audience. As mentioned earlier, we modeled them after other trans fiction tropes because these types of characters have a certain tried-and-true appeal, but this left plenty of flexibility to put our own spin on it. 

A trans woman being loved as a woman by a cishet guy can feel like a high form of ‘passing’, ‘fitting in’ to the female gender role, and being validated by his orientation. He only likes women, and he likes you, so you’re undoubtedly a woman. As a cishet guy, he represents a sort of acceptance into a societal norm that trans women can desire to live to. (Lantana, as a cis lesbian, represents the sapphic counterpoint to this-- although there is of course a big gap between the ‘normalcy’ of a cishet man and a cis lesbian woman, and I don’t mean to say those two are equivalent.) 

But not all trans women want to live to that (cis) societal norm. Rue and Valerian, as a trans woman and a trans man respectively, are the t4t options. 

Rue’s route represents that trans/sapphic ‘envy’ (“do I want her or do I want to be her?”) as well as finding power in community aside from what society considers ‘normal’. We’ve always been pretty clear about what we wanted to do with Rue’s route.

We went back and forth a lot more on Valerian’s route. Initially, we were unsure if he should be trans. He and Rue are the two less-friendly love interests (at least initially), so I was afraid it would come across that t4t is a more hostile option, which is not true at all. But it also felt like a mistake to not have a trans man in the game-- but making Gallardia trans would have required a big overhaul of what we had in mind for him and his route. (Although, childhood friends t4t is a really good idea...)

Beyond that, Valerian takes a villainous role in any route that isn't his own. We were worried that it would be wrong to have a trans antagonist who represents unjust power. However, Breathless Winds is a queer game with other positive trans characters, and we've always approached Valerian as a hot anti-villain man that you can't help but like.

In the end, Valerian’s route is about breaking generational cycles and what it is that makes you a man, and I also managed to sneak in a scene where they dance at a ball in the royal palace, so in the end I think it all worked out great.

Wish Fulfillment and Catharsis

Doris and I both agreed that we wouldn’t depict on-screen transphobia in Breathless Winds. Poppy worries about not being accepted, but fear of acceptance can come with any change in identity. Rue was rejected by her family for being trans, but this doesn’t take place ‘on screen’ in the game. There exist certain metaphorical parallels for transness and transphobia, but every route has a happy ending. 

Following up on this-- it can be difficult to write about discovery of gender identity without writing about transphobia, considering how many trans people suffer from internalized transphobia during their period of repression.

Sometimes, repressed/closeted transgender people ‘hyper-perform’ their assigned gender as a form of denial. A trans woman might grow out a beard and join a gym, while a trans man might become very interested in makeup and feminine clothing. 

In Breathless Winds, Poppy often struggles with ‘strength’ and what it means to be a man. In several routes, she tries to prove her strength under the assumption that being stronger would make her happy. Afraid the world would reject her if she became who she really is, she preemptively rejects herself.

Not every trans person suffers from prolonged denial, internalized transphobia, or even gender dysphoria. I don’t think it’s impossible to tell a purely-positive story about trans joy. 

While Poppy never gets rejected for being trans, faces transphobia, gets called a slur, etc, she faces both internal and external (metaphorical) obstacles to realizing and accepting her identity. 

Gallardia represents a societal norm that Poppy can’t live up to herself as a man.

Lantana suffers from certain aspects of her identity as a woman, which makes Poppy feel guilt for wanting to be a girl.

Rue is isolated from town at the start of her route, a ‘punishment’ for breaking this societal norm.

Valerian has to hyper-conform to his masculine gender role at first in toxic ways before finding acceptance from within and from his loved ones.

These struggles are real to a lot of people, but instead of pretending they don’t exist, I hoped to tell a story about catharsis. Poppy is able to live up to her truth as a woman and finds love with Gallardia, Poppy and Lantana redefine what being a woman should and does mean to them, Rue and Poppy find community in others who don’t fit the norm, Poppy and Valerian stop seeking gender validation from a society that was never made to serve them. 

Although these powerful forces of oppression exist, loving yourself as a trans person- and loving those around you, protecting the natural world, and standing up for what you believe in- can save the day. That’s the kind of story we wanted to tell.

Wrap-up

There’s a lot more I could write, but this has already gotten really long (sorry!) so I’ll wrap it up here. 

Learning how to write a visual novel in terms of technical skill (how to depict events on-screen, how long each line should be) as well as in terms of writing skill (how to outline the game, how to plan visual assets) has been a massive undertaking for me. 

Writing Breathless Winds has been a big challenge but also deeply rewarding, and all of your support has made the experience even more wonderful. Thank you for reading and thank you for supporting the game!

#visual novel #otome #dating sim #amare #trans #lgbt #breathless winds

[vicsnook]

Moving Everywhere But On | Jake Seresin x Reader

word count: 1659

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+

notes: Hey y’all! Happy New Year 🎆! Hope everyone is doing well and that your holidays were amazing!! I will try this year to regularly post Jake on Sundays as previously promised. Hope you enjoy this one and as always please don’t forget to like & reblog 🫶🏼

Moving was something you absolutely dreaded despite having done it your whole childhood due to your father’s navy career. However you thought you’d put those days behind you when you decided to date a doctor instead of a certain navy pilot. But oh how wrong you were as you watched your father and best friend load the boxes onto the truck from the house you’d once shared with your now ex-fiancé, Tom.

Setting down the key on the kitchen counter, you took one last look around what you once thought would be your future. Inevitably replaying the image of your neighbor and Tom fucking on the living room couch. Thankfully the horn of the moving truck snapped you out of the painful memory as you made your way out of the house and shut the door to that chapter, forever.

“You ready to do this, darlin’?” Jake asks quietly as you shut the truck door and settle into the seat, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours reassuringly as you weakly nod in response. A feeling of relief overtakes you as you catch sight of your dad in the moving truck following close behind you both.

—

The rest of the drive was uneventful, except for Jake’s attempts to cheer you up by singing off key. Your new apartment was small but to you it was exactly what you needed, a new beginning. Jake and your father set up your bed while you unpacked the living room which unsurprisingly didn’t take long since you’d sold a lot of your old things. All that was left to unpack was your kitchen, office, and the rest of your bedroom which you’d probably tackle tomorrow.

You waved your dad goodbye as he pulled out of the parking lot and joined Jake back up at the apartment. His back was to you and you watched quietly as he set up your nightstand, carefully putting your lamp and books in the same spot you had them before. You felt a tinge of regret for having turned him down all those years ago all because you didn’t want to deal with the Navy life and craved stability.

You’d loved Jake since the moment he sat next to you in Spanish class in high school and yet you gave it all up, just for everything to blow up in your face in the end. He must’ve sensed you looking since he turned towards you and shot you one of his signature half smiles making your heart flutter.

“You’re just gonna keep staring or are you going to help me out here?” He teases as you lend him a hand to help him up. The distance between your bodies becoming almost non-existent now. Backing up you stuttered out that you were going to shower, hurrying for the bathroom.

Leaning against the closed bathroom door you willed your heart to slow-down. 4 years was not enough to stop loving Jake Seresin and you were overcome with that currently. The hot water did little to soothe your thoughts about wanting to feel Jake’s lips on yours.

The cold air had you shivering for your towel as soon as you stepped out of the shower, only to realize you didn’t grab one. “Jake! Could you bring me a towel please?” You holler, but get no response. Peeking your head out the door you don’t see him either.

Figuring maybe he stepped out you have the lousy idea to make a run for the hall towel closet, only to stumble into Jake as soon as you open the door, his hand holding the towel you called for. Your eyes lock with his and you can feel your cheeks growing red with embarrassment as you take the towel from his outstretched hand and wrap yourself around it.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called for you?” You ask, trying to hide the nerves in your voice. Reminding yourself that it’s just Jake, which also seems to be the problem, that it is just Jake. “Sorry I wasn't thinking straight.” He shrugs, to which you nod and he puts one hand on the back of his neck which he only does when he’s nervous. The awkward silence growing thicker by the second but you can’t seem to snap out of it.

“Well, I should shower too, I left my phone in the living room so you can doordash us some food. You know the code.” He says, finally breaking the silence and turning around to go grab a towel before you can answer. The feeling of awkwardness was not something that you were familiar with around him but you try to shrug it off as you grab his phone to order food.

It’s not until Jake comes out of the bathroom with only a towel hanging around his waist that you realize you’re also still only wearing a towel. You can’t help but stare at his toned chest and muscular arms, longing to feel them under your hands and as he makes his way towards you, your breath catching in your throat.

“Be a doll and pass me my bag, sweetheart?” He asks coming to stand in front of you. His waist lining up to your face as you mentally curse yourself for choosing what feels like a very low couch. “Honey?” He takes your chin between his thumb and finger and turns your head up to look at him.

His gorgeous forest green eyes stare into yours and you can’t seem to form any coherent words. But at once you’re saved by the doorbell. Snapping back into reality you spring up from the couch, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for Jake catching you and steadying you in his arms. But you have no time to ponder about the action as the doorbell rings again.

You open the door and are grateful that the driver is now down the hall and had left your food on the doorstep. Jake’s still standing by the couch as you set the food down on the table, his eyes watching your every move. “Are you just gonna keep staring, Lieutenant?” You say playfully, hoping thebpet name still has the same effect it once did. His face turns up into that cocky smirk as he smoothly replies. “I thought you knew what happens when you play with fire, dolly.” Your flace flushes as you walk towards him, not stopping until you’re once again face to face with him.

Trying to seem confident you step impossibly closer to him, putting one hand on his chest before replying “Why don’t you teach me, Hangman?”

His hand grabs onto your waist and you know there’s no turning back. Maybe this is exactly what you need. “I don’t want to be just some rebound to you” He whispers, your lips nearly touching at the action. “You could never be a rebound Jacob, not when I never stopped loving you.” You reply, and you’ve never been more sure of anything as you close the space between you both.

His lips were softer than you remembered as he kissed you softly like you could break at any moment. You tugged on his hair causing him to grunt, granting your tongue access into his mouth. His hands squeezed your ass while you bit his bottom lip and you could feel yourself getting wetter as he pushed you against the wall.

You could see the hunger in his eyes as you pulled away and he went for that spot right under your ear that drove you crazy. The sound of his name leaving your lips was enough to make him lift you up and have you wrap your legs around him.

He carefully walks over to the couch and sits down with you still on top of him and you rock back and forth on his cock as he swirls his tongue around your nipple. The friction of his cock on your clit feels heavenly but you want more, you need more.

“Jake, more, please,” You beg into his ear, his eyes gleaming at your request. “Are you still on birth control, baby?” He asks, as you continue to rock against his cock. “Mhmm” You moan in response and that’s all it takes for him to lift you up and line himself with your entrance.

He slowly leads you down, letting you get adjusted to his length. The feeling of him stretching you open is almost enough to send you over the edge. “You’re taking my cock so good, doll.” He praises, his accent making you swoon as you reach the hilt of his cock.

You dig your nails into his biceps as he begins to thrust up into you making you lean forward into him. “Fa-a-s-te-r” You manage to utter as his thumb presses on to your clit and his pace starts to increase.

Pleasure is washing over you, and you can feel your legs start to shake as he thrusts faster and harder into you. Moans and groans fill your apartment as you both reach for that high. “God baby you’re so tight, are you gonna cum for me?”

His words are enough to push you over the edge. Hunching forward onto his neck as he continues to thrust into you seeking his own release. “Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he grunts, you lift your head slightly and kiss his neck in response. No one could ever send you over the edge this quickly.

His legs trembled as he sloppily thrusted and reached his own high. Pulling back you caught his lips on yours, tenderly kissing him until you both pulled away for air. “It’s always been you Seresin, I’m sorry I was too stupid to accept that.” You whisper against his neck, he hugs you tighter to him before responding, “Nothing to be sorry for darlin’. We’ve got a lot of time left to make up for it. But how about we start by cleaning ourselves up and eating?”

“Absolutely. And how about round two after?” You answer cheekily, earning yourself a smack to the ass from the man you’re glad to never have moved on from.

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin

[butwhyduh]

Another Year’s End

Summary: New Year’s Eve was never boring. This is told through multiple perspectives. Cuts between each individual. The only warning is fire.

Jason x reader

It was honestly hard to believe that you were currently living in a penthouse overlooking the glittering side of Gotham. You had moved out of a lace that should have probably been condemned with a broken heater and leaky windows and non-existent air conditioner in summer.

It had been an interesting year, as you were learning all of them were being connected to the bat family. Jason was currently asleep on the couch nursing a broken arm in a new sling Alfred had fashioned only a few days previous. You had practically forced him to take pain medication this morning because he was almost in tears while trying to cook.

Now you could get ready in peace. You could never get used to turning on the bathroom heater while walking comfortably on heated marble floors before stepping into a massive shower bigger than your old bathroom. You had a row of soaps and could turn without knocking a single one over. It was an everything shower so upon leaving the bathroom hours later, you felt like a new person.

Jason was up and moving in the bedroom. He was pulling clothing out of the fancy side of his closet. You also now had a fancy side of the closet. Jason had no less than 5 different ties laying in front of him and 2 different jackets.

“Which one for tonight. These are the pants and shoes,” Jason said without turning. You could never be silent enough to trick him.

“This jacket and one of these two ties,” you said after a minute. You held both ties up to his chest. Jason had a silly little half smile on his face as you looked at them both. “This one. Brings out your eyes.”

“Were you just using that as an excuse to stare into my eyes?” He teased.

“Of course.”

“We’ve got about an hour before we go. I’ve still got to shave and probably shower-“

“Definitely shower,” you corrected. “Do you need help covering your cast?”

“How about joining me and helping me wash my back,” he said with a glimmer in his eyes.

“Not even close. I just dried my hair,” you replied. “After the party,” you added with a wink.

“Hmm,” he replied before going to the bathroom.

You moved to the fancy side of your closet and looked at the clothing Jason had bought you over the past year. He didn’t tell you how he got paid so much more and you didn’t ask. You paused for a second. Were you basically a mob wife just enjoying the money brought in from nefarious activities without a thought?

Jason singing from the bathroom broke your thoughts and you continued on getting dressed. No, he wasn’t working as a crime lord anymore. (Your parents would probably love to hear that one.) not to mention you had a thought that Bruce was giving Jason anything he wanted to have a better relationship.

“The red one,” Jason said and you jumped. He stuck his head around the corner of the bathroom. “Please?”

“Sure. Finish your shower and don’t get the floor all wet,” you chuffed. He grinned before going back in the bathroom. It was only a few minutes later that he came out dressed in only a towel. You tried to ignore how ridiculously fit he was, it really didn’t matter how many times you saw it, he was distracting.

“Zip me up?” You asked. He nodded and kissed the back of your neck before slowly pulling the zipper up your spine. You could feel goosebumps forming. That was before he comically grabbed your ass. “Jay!”

He shrugged before tossing you your jacket. “Couldn’t resist.”

———————————

Dick x reader (different character)

Dick was running late. His fiancé was all dressed and he was running out the doors of the precinct to the Porsche.

“No, no, no,” he gasped as he saw the yellow boot on a tire. Yeah, he double parked but he was just dropping something off. Dick looked around and saw no one. It wasn’t his proudest moment but he pulled out a set of lock picks and took the boot off. That took him 5 more minutes behind.

He drove like he stole it while haphazardly throwing off his normal jacket to put on his fancy evening jacket. Trying to put a tie on one handed while speeding on the highway was not easy. You called him as he passed a cop car.

“Fuck!” He said.

“Excuse me?” You answered.

“No, I’m getting pulled over,” he said as the familiar red and blue lights shines behind him.

“Wow. We were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago,” you reminded him. He cringed.

“Yeah, give me like 10 minutes and I’ll be there,” he promised. You hummed a reply before hanging up.

A cop came up to the window and Dick answered with his badge out. “Sorry officer. GCPD business.”

The cop stared at his badge uncomfortably long before nodding. “Be safe.”

Dick showed up to the apartment a little frazzled but otherwise okay. You met him at the car. You took one look at his tie before reaching over to fix it. It was atrocious. You also fussed with his hair a bit.

The drive over wasn’t bad. It was dry and the roads had been cleared of snow recently. And Wayne manor was as glittery and fancy as always. Other people had long since arrived and you both avoided the crowds by coming in the serving entrance.

“Oh hi,” you said to Jason and his girlfriend who were coming in at the same time. “I’m glad we’re not the only ones a little late.”

“Fashionably late,” Jason replied. “Jesus, Dick. What did you do to your collar?” Jason reached over and straightened it.

“I came straight from work. Alright now?”

“Yeah you’re fine. Have you seen Tim?”

“Didn’t see his car,” Dick replied. The ballroom was packed as usual with Gotham’s richest and most influential. The colors this year were rose gold and bright diamond. In fact, there was a display of some of Gotham Museum’s finest diamonds to one side. They were donated for the night after Bruce’s ridiculously high yearly donation. On the opposite side sat a huge Christmas tree decorated with what looked like more glittering gold and diamonds.

Security was posted all around but to Dick, there was far too many people for the few guards. Bruce was to the side of the display with Selina. They were quite the pair with her long black dress with an impossibly high slit and his perfectly tailored suit. He seemed happy and relaxed but Dick knew that could be an act.

“I found Damian,” you called. Damian was sitting with his date at a table towards a back corner. He was wearing a turtleneck with a blazer and his date wore a nice sweater over her dress. They looked cute and more importantly warm, you thought. You wished that you had thought to wear a jacket. You weaved your way to the pair.

“Hey!” Dick said to Damian before forcing the boy into a hug. “How are you?” He hugged Damian’s girlfriend as well.

“There isn’t enough security. I told Father,” Damian replied. Secretly Dick agreed.

“You worry too much. Have you seen Tim?”

“Not yet,” Damian replied. “I don’t know why we insist on having balls here.”

“Preaching to the choir, kid. Let’s go get some drinks,” Jason said to his date.

“You can’t have alcohol with pain meds,” she reminded him and he grumbled while pulling on his cast.

Dick grinned at you while mouthing ‘good luck.’ Telling Jason no was like it’s own extreme sport. You sat next to Dick and grabbed a pair of champagne glasses from the waiter carrying a tray. Dick looked at his watch with a frown.

“You haven’t heard anything from Tim? He’s usually timely,” Dick asked Damian.

“He mentioned something about checking out a case before the gala. I’m not my brother’s keeper,” he replied.

“That’s what Cain said about Abel after he killed him,” Dick replied dryly. You smacked his arm at the snark.

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you mean,” Damian replied.

“I wasn’t-“

“I would have done it long ago if I wanted to. He probably forgot about the gala with how wrapped up in the case he was,” Damian replied. Dick sighed.

“I’m sure you’re right. Want to dance?” he asked you. You took his arm and let him lead you to the dance floor. Dick was a fantastic dancer. The song was slow and he pulled you close to sway with the music.

———————————

Tim x reader (different reader)

“Timothy Drake please answer the damn phone,” you grumbled as it once again went to voicemail. You had called him 5 times and texted him many more than that. You had gone from mad that he was running late to concerned something happened. Dick’s girlfriend had texted you asking where you both were. You hadn’t responded.

You heard a clattering in the bathroom and you ran to see Tim dressed in his Red Robin suit slide into the window on fall to the floor.

“Tim!” You gasped and tan over to him. He yanked his hood off. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah just late,” he said before standing up too quickly and swaying. You grabbed him to steady him. He started walking to the bedroom. He grabbed a suit and started stripping off his costume. He had a fresh red bruise forming on his side.

“Were you really fighting right before a gala?”

“There’s a case. I’ve almost got it. Met some thugs. Nothing to worry about,” he said while moving to jump in the shower. Normally Tim was much more private than this. It was weird.

“Are you hurt? That bruise looks painful.”

“I’ll be fine. You want to drive?” He asked. He quickly showered and brushed his hair and threw on the suit in record time with practiced ease.

“I guess I can drive,” you said after a minute.

Ten minutes later you parked by the side entrance to a party in full swing. There’s something very intimidating about going to a fancy party in Gotham. You’ve always gotten the vibe that anything could happen at anytime and danger was one step off. Tonight the thought was even greater.

Tim just wasn’t himself as he pulled you into the building. He was a little less refined and a little clumsier.

“Tim, what is going on?” You asked.

“Nothing. We’re just late,” he said.

“Well maybe don’t drag me around when I’m in heels. I almost fell down,” you chided. He sighed.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s go inside, okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied softer.

The glittering gold and diamonds were blinding and the building was incredibly full of people. You weaved through the crowd. You held Tim’s hand tightly in fear of losing him.

“Let’s dance,” he said and that’s when you knew something was wrong. He usually needed at least a full glass of champagne before dancing. You let him guide you to the dance floor. He was sloppy and you had to pull him back a few times as he almost hit people with his wild movements. He looked drunk and seemed to be less coordinated by the minute.

You saw Dick and his fiancé dancing and steered Tim towards them. They were dancing beautifully and you regretted interrupting them.

“Dick!” You called out. He turned to see you and Tim dancing. He smiled.

“Already a glass deep, I see,” he teased Tim.

“No, he’s not,” you said, worried. Dick’s brow furrowed.

“I’m fine,” Tim replied but Dick had already seen the sloppy movement and slower reaction timing.

“Why don’t we get a seat,” Dick replied. He mouth a ‘sorry’ to his date. The four of you moved to a table. “Buddy have you had anything to drink tonight?”

“No and I don’t like the accusation that I have,” Tim replied.

“Okay I believe you,” Dick said. He asked you a bunch of questions and tried to ask Tim who was becoming less coherent by the minute.

—————————

Damian x reader

“Sorry, I am in a poor mood. I just haven’t slept in 31 hours,” Damian admitted after you grew angry at his attitude.

“Why not?” You asked.

“There’s a case that I have been helping Drake with. We’ve been taking turns with surveillance. I didn’t have time to take a nap. I’ll be fine. A few hours shouldn’t be a problem,” he said confidently.

“We don’t have to stay at this party,” you replied. “Seriously if you need to sleep.”

“No Father needs me here. He needs someone watching after him,” Damian replied while looking around the room.

“Don’t you ever get tired of it, caring for everyone?” You asked gently. “Are you going to watch after your father forever?”

Damian suddenly stopped his surveillance and looked over at you. “I’m sorry. This case is getting to me. There’s… a lot on the line.”

“Like what?”

“Drake thinks there’s trafficking involved. A new drug to low inhibition,” he practically whispered. “I can’t really talk about it.”

“Take the night off. It’ll be there tomorrow,” you retorted with a smile. Damian nodded. “Do you want to get some snacks?”

“Sure,” he replied before grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd. As Damian walked towards the drink station, his relatively new height afforded him the ability to see over many guests. He spotted Dick fussing over Tim. Damian immediately pulled you towards them.

Just as Damian was arriving at the table, down from them around the Christmas tree, a group of older men lit cigars as they talked business. Jason and his girlfriend happened to be nearby. Jason wanted to quit smoking, he really did. But the fact that they were lighting up as he was quite stressed about the event was hard to ignore. He pulled his cigarettes from his jacket pocket despite his partners protest.

“Can I get a light?” He asked.

At the tables Tim was becoming angry at the concern the others had for him. He suddenly stood up and stormed off towards the tree. His arms swinging wildly as his balance was compromised. And fate for Bruce Wayne had never been kind. Because just as Jason was lighting a match to light up his cigarette, Tim Drake crashed straight into him and directly into the Christmas tree.

Jason jumped back with a yell in pain as his injured arm was jostled but the damage had been done. The tree that Alfred had bought a month previous and had painstakingly decorated with glittering bobbles and dried flowers went up in flames. The tree was incredible flammable.

Tim froze as he looked at the sudden bonfire. Jason dragged him away as the heat seared the air. Screaming could be heard all around and the mass of bodies scrambled for the exits. You froze in fear as the flames tickled the streamers hung from the ceiling.

“We need to leave,” Dick said. “Go to that exit,” he pointed. “I’m going to help them.”

“I’ll come too,” Damian said.

“No, get them out,” Dick commanded. Dimly they could hear Bruce announce something over the loud speakers. Chaos ensued especially around the diamond display. Damian grabbed your hand and you grabbed Dick’s fiancés hand who grabbed Tim’s girlfriend’s hand and the four of you made towards the exit. Bodies pressed all around as people panicked. Your ears rang from the screaming your lungs began to burn from the smoke.

Across the room Dick had just barely made it to Tim and Jason and Jason’s girlfriend. The pair were trying to drag Tim towards an exit with no luck. Jason was furious that he couldn’t use one arm. Dick simply scooped Tim up fireman style before marching towards an exit.

The sprinkler system finally kicked in. The fire remained on the tree but any spread was quickly stopped.

You shivered in the cold Gotham air outside the ballroom. People ran to their cars or stood watching as the tree continued to burn. Damian pulled off his jacket to wrap around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you replied and he pulled you into a hug.

Tim’s girlfriend paced and stared at the exits hoping they would come out soon. “I don’t understand what is going on with him. Tim was not himself.”

“They’ll be out soon,” Dick’s fiancé replied. She looked terrified. Jason was injured and Tim was altered and there were so many civilians. Dick would try to get everyone out.

Fire trucks sounded in the distance as they raced towards the manor. Black smoke billowed out the doors and obscured any view. Inside was chaos as the sprinklers flooded the room. Dick finally made it to an exit and all but tossed Tim on the lawn before running back in to help others.

“I see Tim!” You cried and his girlfriend ran over to him. Visibly uninjured but very altered Tim sat on the grass in a daze.

“Are you okay?” His girlfriend asked and before he could respond, he vomited on the grass. It was electric green and Tim seemed to sag in relief.

“That’s something,” you replied.

“Yes, I think it’s our mysterious substance from the case,” Damian replied.

The last of the people had filtered out of the building and the fire had dimmed down. The firefighters quickly put it out. Dick and Jason and his girlfriend came out finally. Alfred found the group and sighed in relief.

“Thank heavens,” he said. “Let’s get you lot inside.”

They walked to the opposite side of the manor that wasn’t damaged by the smoke and moved into an informal den. Bruce and Selina soon joined them.

“There’s a problem,” Bruce started.

“Other than the fire,” Dick asked.

“And Tim?” Jason added.

“Yes, someone stole about 100 million dollars in diamonds tonight and the drug you were tracing made it’s way into the party tonight. This is now an open investigation,” Bruce said.

“Happy New Years,” Tim said from the couch as the clock struck midnight.

Part 1

#jason todd x reader #batboy x reader #red hood x reader #nightwing x reader #dick Grayson x reader #Tim drake x reader #Red Robin x reader #Damian wayne x reader #Robin x reader #batman #new years eve party

[djarins-cyare]

✭ Series Masterlist ✭

Languishing in a dull and lonely existence on the forest moon of Endor after travelling there to help salvage Death Star wreckage, a nearly fatal encounter with a mysterious bounty hunter out in the forest heralds an opportunity to utilise long-forgotten skills and develop something more profound than you ever thought possible.

Second person POV, present tense. Set post-season 2, diverges from Canon events before TBoBF and season 3. This is a novel-length, exceptionally slow burn with an original plot, worldbuilding, and fully-developed characterisation. SWU concepts and lore are accurately researched.

WORDS: 405,180

PAIRING: Din Djarin x Female Reader/You

RATING: Explicit (18+)

CHARACTERS: Din Djarin, Reader/You/Female OC, Original Non-Human Character(s), Original Human Characters, Greef Karga, Cara Dune, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Peli Motto

TAGS: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Romance, Love, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Smut, Sex, Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Relationships, Healthy Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Dark Past, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes, Bounty Hunter Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Smart Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, Ewok Species, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a Language, New Razor Crest, Thoroughly Researched, Worldbuilding, No use of y/n.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This took me almost a year to write and four months to edit/proof. Each chapter is prefaced with specific tags and (where necessary) warnings, plus word counts. End notes contain translations and comments… this baby is thoroughly researched, so I’m sharing context where appropriate. I’ve also added definitions of in-universe terms so people less familiar with the franchise won’t be left wondering what the hell certain words or references mean. This is a slow burn (adult themes), and although the explicit content only occurs in the latter half, when it does, it warrants the ‘E’ rating. Basically, the first half is a love story, and the second half gets spicy. I hope you enjoy it!

READ THE COMPLETE STORY ON AO3:

(Chapters containing explicit content marked †)

Chapter 1: The Obstacle

Chapter 2: The Interrogation

Chapter 3: The Covenant

Chapter 4: The Snare

Chapter 5: The Strike

Chapter 6: The Groundwork

Chapter 7: The Genesis

Chapter 8: The Progression

Chapter 9: The Hide

Chapter 10: The Beast

Chapter 11: The Adjustment

Chapter 12: The Storm

Chapter 13: The Broadside

Chapter 14: The Intercourse

Chapter 15: The Village

Chapter 16: The Confession

Chapter 17: The Reprieve

Chapter 18: The Fortification

Chapter 19: The Ambush

Chapter 20: The Meridian

Chapter 21: The Homestretch

Chapter 22: The Union †

Chapter 23: The Overture

Chapter 24: The Crescendo

Chapter 25: The Harmony †

Chapter 26: The Cadence †

Chapter 27: The Ride †

Chapter 28: The Veneration †

Chapter 29: The Spree †

Chapter 30: The Tribute †

Chapter 31: The Courage

Chapter 32: The Feast

Chapter 33: The Exhibition †

Chapter 34: The Reward

Chapter 35: The Binding †

Chapter 36: The Synergy †

Chapter 37: The Match †

Chapter 38: The Flag †

Chapter 39: The Foundling †

Chapter 40: The Future †

✨Additional Media✨

@burntheedges has written a spectacular little drabble detailing what Din was up to during the paragraph break near the end of chapter 1 (*SPOILERS* you don’t find this out until chapter 27).

@djarin-desires has created some awesome AI images of a few scenes using Midjourney.

I spent a stupid amount of money on the Hot Toys official Din Djarin action figure, simply so I could photograph him in poses from my fic 🤷🏼‍♀️ This is just a taster of what’s to come, but here he is offering to help Reader climb onto the speeder in chapter 8.

🧡💚 Thank you for reading! 💚🧡

Dividers by @samspenandsword

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando #mandalorian #the mandolarian #the mandolorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #be all and endor

[i-heart-hxh]

Is there really a married couple dynamic between Killua and Gon? If so, any examples of similarities to other couples in the anime?

The director of the 2011 anime thinks so!

I agree with what he said, although of course there's a limited degree to which this comparison applies because we are talking about two young boys (who aren't even in an actual romantic relationship yet), after all. :p The ways they resemble a married couple in my opinion include, but are certainly not limited to:

Extreme trust between and reliance on one another

Being synchronized in their actions and thoughts in many cases (as if they've been together a long time)

They have a good understanding of each other and insight into how the other thinks

They bicker over silly things, but quickly go back to getting along after disputes

They essentially lived together in the around two years they were together. They were with each other almost constantly during that time, and there's a degree of domesticity and closeness/comfort to their relationship as a result

They talk to each other almost non-stop, to a point where we see them chattering away in the background frequently

They work together towards common goals by default and generally only compete for fun

To quote Hiroshi Koujina (from the post linked above), "Gon is the free-spirited husband, and Killua is the wife who silently supports him" <- I think this is a good summary of their dynamic within this context, LOL

It's hard to compare them to many couples in the series because honestly, HxH doesn't have many actual romantic couples to begin with. Togashi tends to kill one half or more of the romantic couples he sets up, often before they get to have a good life together. Think Squala and Eliza, Pokkle and Ponzu...

However, Meruem and Komugi are parallels to Gon and Killua, and that's essentially undeniable with how many layers of parallel/similarity exist between the two pairs. That's a topic for a whole other post (I could go on and on, and it's hard to summarize), but the way Meruem and Komugi's relationship develops is also telling of Gon and Killua's dynamic because the two are intended to exist in comparison with each other and reflect each other.

One of Komugi's final lines to Meruem was essentially an old-fashioned way to accept a marriage proposal ("I may not be much, but please, let me accompany you"), and Meruem and Komugi complete a lover's suicide (like Killua was considering doing with Gon). Obviously these character pairs are separate, and it's not as though I think Gon and Killua will suffer the same fate, but I do think it's very meaningful (especially in conjunction with the loads of other subtext present in the series) that Togashi chose another pair with obvious romantic subtext to mirror Gon and Killua, and that that relationship ended with "marriage" in an abstract sense.

Even Komugi's phrase I mentioned above has similarities with Gon and Killua, with Killua's, "Gon. You are light. Sometimes you shine so brightly, I must look away. But even so, is it still okay if I stay at your side?" It's essentially saying the same thing as Komugi's phrase.

I'd argue there's also some degree of parallels with Ging and Kite, Knuckle and Shoot, Kacho and Fugetsu, Kurapika and Pairo, and most likely others, though of course those aren't romantic in nature. I do think the fact that there are so many points of comparison is interesting, though, it reinforces the themes of the series that Gon and Killua exemplify.

Also, just a silly little sidenote, but Nagareboshi Kirari from the 2011 anime does have wedding bells in it. Take that as you will!

I hope that's helpful!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #killugon #gonkillu #gon #killua #meta #my posts #asks #anonymous

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓘 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓨𝓸𝓾 (say it back) [𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑]

He's the introvert tall guy dressed in black who always picks you up from work, makes sure you drink enough water, and that you stay out of trouble. In a way, some might think it must be tiring to have a partner that's just so different than yourself- but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tags/Warnings: Girly!Reader, Introvert!Jungkook, non-idol AU, opposites attract AU?, established relationship, Angst, Major Fluff, some drama, Slice of Life (like Good Girl AU for example), mc is kook's biggest simp, kook is kind of overwhelmed by her love sometimes, but it's fine they both cute

Length: No chapter limit set. Story will simply update randomly and focus on asks/requests.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°♡°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

You run into the bedroom where Jungkook is currently playing his video game, barely covered by a towel, hair up in a bun that's pretty much held together only by hopes and wishes.

"Jungkook!" You call out excitedly, and he pauses his game in a well used-to manner, making space so you can hop onto his lap, his controller falling onto the floor as he looses grip on it- more so concerned with holding you on his legs as you wiggle around. "Shower with me." You demand, and he sighs, looking over to his TV screen, inner battle hard to decide. "Jungkookie, please!" You whine, and he plays with his lip piercing.

"You know what happened last time." He worries. "You almost hit your head when you slipped-" He reminds you, but you just roll your eyes.

"There's nothing in it anyways-" You start jokingly, but he instead flicks his fingers against your forehead scoldingly, reminding you that he's not too fond of your own demeaning jokes against yourself, even if you don't out any honesty in those words. "-Kookie please, you've been at it for hours and I wanna have some quality time with my hot sexy anime boyfriend!" You huff, and he frowns a bit at that, confused.

"I'm your what now?" He wonders, and you laugh, running your fingers through his by now pretty long hair. He himself doesn't really know what you see in him- but he knows you love both him, and his appearance a lot, no matter if he just woke up, if he's sick, or if he's looking his best.

'You're like, my biggest boy-crush, ever!', he remembers you confessing to him one night in his apartment as you had shared pizza- just after he'd opened the glass bottle of strawberry ramune for you with one hand. 'like, please crush me with those hands, mister!' you had dramatically whined, and back then, he had taken it as nothing but playful joking.

Oh how dense he'd been.

"No really! You kind of look like Miyamura Izumi from Horimiya-" You tell him, pink sparkling acrylics combing over his scalp in a way that would make him purr, if he was a cat. "-a bit more buff and with more tattoos, but still. We gotta watch that show by the way, it's so cute!" You giggle, and he swallows down his own shyness creeping up. Even after half a year of dating you, he's not yet used to your boldness when it comes to complimenting him. He's not really used to it. Maybe never will.

But then again, he also thought of you as nothing but a hollow barbie doll come to life, in the beginning. Come to discover, you're not at all empty inside- but filled to the brim with color, by now having started to paint his life and even himself in more hues than he's ever really thought existed.

"Please.!" You try again, attempting your best puppydog eyes- though he's a little distracted by your cleavage dangerously exposed, towel hardly holding on. "Oh! I bought a new brand of body-scrub, by the way! Strawberry sugar, the one you said you liked when I first came over?" You remember, and he nods, sharing the excitement a lot more subtly than you, who's buzzing just at the thought of your new purchase.

"I remember that. It smelled really nice- but I thought it was discontinued?" He wonders, pulling out the hairtie from your bun to make a proper one for you.

"Oh it is! It's a different brand this time, but it smells pretty much the same.. and the container is like, bio-something, like, it's not plastic-"

"Biodegradable?" He asks with a smile, and you snap your fingers at him.

"So smart, those glasses really aren't just to look good." You praise, and he chuckles. "Anyway I'll scrub your pretty skin down top to bottom if you shower with me and maybe give me a handjob?" You ask, and he sighs a bit bashful. Sex is a big part of your relationship- you're very open with it, show your love in a more physical way than he does. He's never really been a cuddler, or someone to hold hands with- even kissing in public had been nothing but a myth to him prior to dating you.

These days? He can't seem to escape you- and he doesn't want to, either.

Sex has turned from something.. well, somewhat enjoyable to him, to something exciting and even romantic, even during the most messy encounters. It's like he's gotten a unique craving just for the taste of your way of love him- a craving only you can really satisfy.

"I'll even suck you off-" You start again, and at that he averts his eyes, shaking his head with a laugh and red ears, showing clearly that he's caving in, making you laugh as you get up- towel dropping, leaving you completely naked as you run into the bathroom, only turning around for a second to peek around the doorway into the bathroom, bare chest clearly visible as you see him pick up the towel. "oops." You tease, and at that, he suddenly dashes towards you-

easily catching your naked body in his arms as he closes the bathroom door behind him.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine

[sofasoap]

Little Beard

Pairing: Johnny ��Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: After being apart from your wonderful boyfriend for six months, he comes back with a surprise.

Warning : M themed. Suggestive. hints of smut. Not beta'ed. Semi crack. A/N: I am sure all of us who loves Soap also love his wonderful beard from his OG days. At least I do.

Part 4 of Little Bear series Masterlist

“JOHN……ny???”

Two men turned around. If it wasn’t for the almost non-existing mohawk, you probably would have mistaken your boyfriend for Captain Price. 

“Bonnie bear!!” Striding towards you before scoping you up into his arms into a bear hug. “You made it!” 

“I wouldn’t miss it in the world… but.. What the hell is this??!!” you gaped, while caressing his full mutton chop. 

Six months. It’s the longest time both of you have been apart since the start of the relationship. Oh how you missed him. There was minimal contact. The only reason you knew him and the team was still alive was through Laswell ( Only because Johnny begged her and she has a soft spot for the youngsters of the team ). You don’t know how you would have coped without her constant update and reassurances. While you are glad to have them safe back in your arm, you begin to wonder what has happened during the mission. 

“You like it?” Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, he whispered. “I thought something different, for a change.” 

“Are you sure you boys haven’t been on the set of ‘Cast Away’ instead of a save-the-world mission??”  You laughed as you felt the tickle of his beard on your neck. “Oh! You are growing a rat tail too..” 

Glancing over his shoulder, you see Gaz sporting a not quite a full unkempt beard and equally messy curly hair, although you couldn’t see Simon’s face, a few strands of overgrown hair is peeking out from both eye holes and the back of his balaclava, and somehow Price has magically kept his mutton chop immaculate. You almost wonder if he has signed a secret pact with an unknown entity to keep his facial hair in tiptop shape and keep the boys alive during the missions. 

Pulling away a little, he gives you a playful smacking kiss on the lip, “Falling head over heels for me again?” 

You laughed as you lightly slapped his chest, you have to admit on more than one occasion you have imagined what it will be like for Johnny to have a full grown mutton chop, how it will feel when he goes down on….

“What are you thinking now little teddy bear? I can hear your brain churning.” Leaning back into you as he dropped into a whisper, “You having naughty thoughts?” Damn, he knows you too well. 

“Don’t worry, once we get back to the accommodation.. I will make up for all the lost time by taking care of ya…” he smirked. He proceeded to yell towards the boys, “Hey, I think we will give tonight’s gathering a miss, I have important business to take care of.” 

“You mean taking care of your girlfriend’s needs?” Simon perked up all of sudden.

“Oh my gosh Simon!!” You swear if someone put a kettle on top of your head now, you can boil the water in an instant. Of all people, you did not expect it from him. You seriously need to have a talk with Mini to reign her husband’s mouth. 

“You know it! See you tomorrow instead!” Soap replied, unashamed about what his plan with you for the evening was to be, while waving goodbye to his teammates and half dragging you towards the car, eagerly. And sure enough, he proceed to you the best head in your life. As always. With his new mutton chop. Again, and again. the overgrown hair made it easy to grab onto too.

“.. Had a good time? UGH!”

“ Gaz. Behave. And you too SIMON. Don't you DARE open your mouth” 

I am a firm believer Price has made a pact with the devil to keep his mutton chop immaculate at all time.

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator

@random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs

#johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x fem reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish xf!reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #Little bear series #sofasoap writes #call of duty #johnny mactavish #john mactavish fluff #johnny soap mactavish x female!reader #johnny soap mactavish fluff #crack fic #ish

[bloodpen-to-paper]

QSMP Awards 2024 Summarized

-The audio was scuffed for the first half. I don't mean a little crispy. I don't mean with a slight echo. It was fucked in every way imaginable. The audio sounded like it was going through a blender. Then it kept getting too loud, then too quiet (so much so we couldn't hear), all while being way too crispy. Charlie Slimecicle monologued to the audience while the team was trying to fix it but since the audio was both too crispy and too quiet we couldn't actually understand anything he was saying. This carried on for about 7 minutes with him holding two microphones, neither of which was working, before the stream crashed (again)

-All the staff are apparently Cucurucho, with one of them being a "main Cucurucho"

-Missa wore a "Quackity my beloved" shirt. I could not explain to you what the blazer over it was supposed to be.

-Everyone else at the ceremony was shown through discord call. I'm convinced Charlie has never seen German or Lenay's faces cause he did not know it was them until Quackity said their names

-The screen was supposed to switch between showing all the people on the discord and it kept switching between the same four people. If I have to hear Q, Charlie and Missa chant "Foolish" or "Pol" ever again-

-Mariana showed up and Charlie immediately went into bitter ex mode. He also hit on Mariana. Multiple times.

-We got a patented Ironmouse "coño" and chat lost their shit over Luzu existing, as expected

-Mariana looked like Michael Jackson, Bad's background could've been the set of Breaking Bad, Roier had a ski mask, lots of people learned what Lenay, German and Vegetta's looked like for the first time, and Mike had a kawaii filter

-Somehow Bad didn't even get nominated for Best Cucurucho Jumpscare, showing that even non-red carpet events can produce award snubs (congrats to Bagi!)

-Though I yearned for Maximus getting nominated for his Eh Vegetta prank, we all knew the win had to go to Vegetta for the mines

-The audio eventually became bearable but the echo never fully left. At some point there were like three or four overlaps of Vegetta giving his acceptance speech

-Acau won for Best Death from getting killed by an enderman (in my heart Foolish's accidental death by Pomme's sniper that got him eliminated from the elections won, but we did get Quackity dying to a fly as a nom so I feel complete. Also congrats to Acau!)

-The Qsmp shop is officially open! We got eggie merch :]

-Quackity forgot to roll clips for the Best Purgatory 2 Moment nominees and almost read out the winner before we got the montage (Wuant won! It was the clip of him being told he lost and he accidentally did a flip. They weren't able to get the acceptance speech on stream so we saw it from Quackity's phone)

-Funniest QSMP Moment nominees were all fucking hilarious, its hard to pick just one but Maxo winning for when he respawned after a lore-heavy moment in Pierre's bed to his own moans being remixed into a song absolutely deserved the win

-Saddest QSMP Moment was unnecessary and the admins will be hearing from my lawyers for making me relive Dapper's first lost life, Dia de los Muertos and the end of Purgatory 1 (Jaiden and Roier saying bye to Bobby won, Roier changed his screen to black and white and held up what looked like a mini Cucurucho being used as a cross)

-Best QSMP Original Song was played prematurely when the category was Best Language Exchange, and we got a spoiler for the winner (YD and Hugo's exchange won and YD's audio was muted so we just saw her Vtuber model getting excited)

-The aforementioned Best Qsmp Original Song had Gordinho Gostosinho looping aggressively over Charlie singing the Juanaflippa song, which I hope to god gets clipped cause it was hilarious (I'm glad the Roier and Cucurucho rap got nominated). Charlie was very confused why they had him announce his own win.

-Best PVP unsurprisingly went to Etoiles for his colosseum Code fight, after all he is the Best🔥 (the other noms were great too, we had Philza vs Tubbo in Purgatory, Bad and Maxo eliminating El Quackity from the elections, and a cute sparring session between Pac and Richas)

-Best Qsmp Fails went to Fit for that time Pac's internet cut out during their date (of course he bragged about his Brasilian boyfriend after learning he won for best loser)(also if it was up to me Quackity's fly deaths would've been added to this category just sayin')

-The audio problems were revealed to have been roleplay the entire time. Yep. All part of the lore.

-Speaking of, most of the winners who were in the discord call could not be heard so they had to give speeches through Quackity holding his phone up to the mic

-Best Roleplayer went to Roier for his Doied arc (the screen prematurely showed him before they could read the announcement, and his speech was him kissing the camera)

-Worst Server House went to Mariana accompanied with the classic clip of him reacting to the admins roasting his started base; Mariana was part of the discord call but left at some point so he couldn't give a speech, to which Charlie jumped on the opportunity to roast his absence like a shark smelling blood (they rightfully nominated Quackity for his clip of Acau reacting to his failure of a starter house, and apparently Carre's base is just his bed on a dirt plot)

-Most Iconic Clip went to Pac for stealing the Qsmp Logo (the other lovely noms included Foolish and co. accidentally closing their house door after a creeper came in an attempt to shut it out, and Tina reacting to a mob giving Felps a blowjob)

-The Most Bankrupt Islander went to Niki for being broke, we stan (during the nom montage we got a passa tudo mention)

-The Creator Who Spent the Most Time on the Server Award went to Bad, which was shocking to no one, although they did use his Barbie Girl clip for the nom montage (they also used Fit wearing a wig for his clip)

-The Qsmp cake for the one year anniversary had the text "FELICIDADES ALBERTO". We do not know who Alberto is. Pol was losing it.

-Tubbo won for The Creator With the Most Deaths (106), while The Creator With Fewest Deaths went to Philza (he only had 1!). Philza was able to be heard through stream but the hosts didn't know this so they would hear him from Quackity's phone and repeat what he was saying even though we could hear him

-Everytime the camera cut back to the hosts Charlie, Quackity and Missa had more cake on their faces

-Most Distance Traveled (in Minecraft) went to Etoiles (6,000+ km jfc)

-Creator With the Most Mob Kills went to Pierre (162,960 mob kills. what the fuck.)

-They accidentally read the award for Creator With the Most Damage Taken (Foolish) during the Best Builder announcement, confusing the shit out of everyone, especially cause the screen showed Mike instead of Foolish. I am still unclear who won Best Builder

-Creator With the Most Blocks Placed went to Mike!!! (MIKE WIN VAMBORAAAAAAAAAAA🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷)

-We had to uncomfortably sit through Missa feeding Charlie cake (and just Charlie in general)

-There was an In Memorium segment of the passed eggs (Quackity shat on a grieiving Charlie for Flippa only lasting 11 days, but in Charlie's words, "to you it was 11 days; to her it was a lifetime"). Charlie commentated and had nothing to say about Trump because he didn't know jack shit about Trump (though he did make a wall joke which is exactly what Maxo would have wanted godbless🙏)

-The stream ended with the discord people saying goodbye, while Roier was holding up the mini Cucuruchos and didn't move the entire time. I know he wasn't frozen because he blinked.

-Maxo sent in his acceptance speech video last minute and Quackity hyped it up as a mysterious final entry but Charlie guessed it was Maxo and spoiled it on accident

-Speaking of, Maxo's entry was him walking around heaven looking for Trump </3

-Charlie gave a heartfelt speech about the people he met through the Qsmp, all while looking like ate out frosty the snowman <3. Missa simpy thanked Alberto (we still do not know who Alberto is)

-Tubbo wasn't present in the discord call because he thought him streaming meant he couldn't join. After the stream Quackity called and Tubbo realized he was allowed to join the whole time

-We ended on a montage of various moments, with a message of excitement looking forward to the next year!

And of course, here are the screenies I managed to nab of the hosts slowly deteriorating into cake

#this is how i return to regular posting #i say to myself in the mirror #anyway its been a month how yall doing #liveblogging #mcyt #qsmp #qsmp recap #qsmp awards

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: One thing leads to another when Azriel and Elain find themselves alone for the first time in months.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Smut, 18+ please

Missed the first chapter? You can find the masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love and support on the first chapter of this fic. It means the world to me and I am SO excited to share this next chapter with you 💕

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Elain Archeron had always had excellent intuition. 

It was Elain that had glanced between Nesta and Cassian the first time they had all met and quietly told her older sister that she’d end up marrying Cassian one day. At the time, Nesta had scoffed - claiming that Rhys’ loud, overconfident friend was the opposite of her type and she’d rather stick pins in her eyes than entertain the idea of going on even one date with him. Two years to the day later, Nesta had shown up to dinner with a glittering diamond on her ring finger. 

It was also Elain that had tilted her head, her mouth skewed up in a mischievous half smile as she surveyed Feyre one morning and whispered “you’re pregnant” to her younger sister who much like Nesta, had scoffed and said that there was absolutely no way. Nyx arrived thirty four weeks later. 

It was that same intuition that had left with her with an ominous feeling in the weeks leading up to her father’s death. That darkness had lingered around her for so long that Elain had finally decided to give up and ignore it - a decision that she’d come to regret just a few days later when she’d slipped out of her then-boyfriend’s bed to see the countless number of missed calls and texts lighting up her phone screen.

But while her intuition seemed to always be right on the money when it came to other people in her life, it was all but non-existent when it came to her own. Otherwise, she might’ve immediately known that when Azriel had greeted her earlier this evening with one of his rare smiles and an “I missed you” muttered into her hair for only her to hear, they’d end the night alone in his kitchen - flickering candlelight and his hands on her thighs. 

Azriel’s house had been bustling with activity for the past few hours. Festive music was on, the fireplace was lit, the warm lights of the Christmas tree glittered along with the numerous candles that he’d lit and carefully placed around his kitchen and living room so that they were well out of reach of small hands. Drinks had been poured, food had been devoured, gifts had been opened and only now were things finally quieting down. 

Rhys and Feyre swayed together in time to whatever song was playing, wrapped up in each other’s arms as their toddler desperately tried to pry his way in between their bodies. Nesta was sprawled out on Azriel’s couch, long legs draped over Cassian’s lap. Elain watched them all, a small smile on her lips, from where she sat on the floor next to Shadow’s bed - one hand softly stroking over the chest of Azriel’s greyhound as she dozed with her long snout resting on Elain’s lap. 

She had been nervous to come back home after being away for the last six months, afraid of what feelings might come rushing to the surface when she returned to this small town that had been the setting for all the best and worst moments of her life. She’d felt unprecedented anxiety on the entire flight over and then again on the drive to Azriel’s house for Christmas dinner. But her heart had immediately eased when she’d spotted the paw prints imprinted into the walkway when she strolled up to the front door earlier and now that she was here, cross legged on the floor of a house that had come to feel like a second home, she was perfectly content. 

Even her nerves around seeing Azriel had dissipated into nothing when he’d opened the door and given her one of those rare, dazzling smiles that made her heart ache. He’d pulled her into his arms, placed a chaste kiss to her cheek, and she’d almost cried from the relief of being back here with him. At how natural it felt to be held by him again. She’d missed him to the point of pain, even if he was part of the reason she’d packed up and moved halfway across the country in the first place. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen him in the eight or so months that she’d been away. They’d still spoken, still exchanged the occasional call and text to check in with each other. They’d even caught up the last time she’d been in town for a friend’s wedding that Autumn but she’d insisted on meeting him in a café - somewhere public and busy where she wouldn’t have to deal with that simmering temptation that seemed to plague her each and every time she looked at him a little too long. 

Elain lifted her eyes to sneak another look at him now, just as she’d been doing since she’d stepped foot into his house earlier this evening. He was as beautiful as ever, sitting on the floor across from her, his back against the couch Nesta and Cassian occupied, long legs stretched out in front of him. His head was tipped up and to the side. The small gold hoop that hugged his earlobe caught the light of the fireplace and drew her eye there, to the strong cut of his jaw and the cheekbones that were on perfect display as he exchanged quiet words with her older sister. 

The sweater he wore was a green so dark it almost looked black in the dim light and it fit him in a way that emphasised the breadth of his chest and shoulders.  The memory of him pushing up the sleeves of that sweater while he bustled around the kitchen earlier resurfaced before she could stop it and Elain had to drag her eyes away from him, her cheeks heating at the way she’d been unable to look away from the dark ink of the tattoos scattered on his golden skin and the way they had subtly danced with each flex of his forearms.

…

Nesta and Feyre both decided to head home as the clock ticked closer to 1AM. Nyx had fallen asleep on Azriel’s couch an hour ago.  Feyre was well past drunk, her entire body slumped against Rhys who held her up with a firm arm around her waist. Nesta was steering an also far from sober Cassian into the passenger side of their car. 

“I’ll stay and help tidy up,” Elain told Rhys as she helped get Nyx in his carseat while Rhys wrangled his wife into the front seat. “Feyre gave me a key earlier, I’ll let myself in.” 

“Az could probably drive you back, he’s only had a couple.” He replied, sighing as he carefully shut the passenger door. 

Rhys followed her as she made her way back up the path to Azriel’s house. She didn’t miss the slight raise of Azriel’s brows as she said goodbye to Rhys and brushed past him, heading back inside the house instead of leaving with her sisters. She kept moving, not bothering to stand around as Rhys lowered his voice and spoke to Azriel. 

She was in the kitchen, putting away leftovers and wiping down the benchtop when Azriel sauntered back in. 

“You didn’t need to stay and help,” he said softly, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he watched her. 

“And you didn’t need to host us all tonight, but you did.” Elain gave him a pointed look before she looked away from those piercing hazel eyes. “Besides, I haven’t seen you in a while. I thought it’d be nice to stay back for a bit… catch up, just the two of us.”

“Just like old times,” he said, softly.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye just in time to see the way those full lips of his tilted upwards. 

“Just like old times,” she nodded.

And just like all those other late nights, the conversation came easily. There was no awkwardness between them. None of the resentment that she had feared he may hold for her. It was just as it had always been - whispered words and quiet laughter. The gentle skim of fingers over shoulders and waists as they effortlessly maneuvered around each other, taking entirely too long to clean up because they were so distracted by falling straight back into their old routine.

But while things had been going better than she could’ve hoped, that temptation was still there. She still felt the heat course through her every time his hand pressed to the small of her back. She’d hoped that it had been a fluke. That putting distance between them would temper the overwhelming desire that she had for him. Being alone with him now, even despite the ease and the comfort, she couldn’t help but wonder how she’d deluded herself into thinking there was any way that she could just resort back to friendly feelings when her feelings towards him had always skewed to a little more than just platonic. 

“Want a slice of pie?” Azriel asked, looking at her over his shoulder as he opened the fridge and peered inside. 

“It’s late, Az. I should probably head back home, you must be tired.” Elain said, draining the last bit of red wine from the glass that Azriel had refilled not once, but twice, in the last hour or so. She was a little bit tipsy, her eyes the tiniest bit bleary - although whether that was because of the wine or the lack of sleep, she couldn’t be too sure. 

“Just one slice, Lain.” Azriel pulled a plate of pumpkin pie and a can of whipped cream out of the fridge before using his elbow to shut the refrigerator door. “One slice and then I’ll call you a cab.”

Elain bit the inside of her cheek, a coy smile forming on her lips. She’d take any excuse for a few more minutes with him. “I’ll just have a bite of yours.”

Elain hoisted herself up on the counter and watched as Azriel nodded, carefully cutting a slice and setting it on the plate before making his way back to her. He gathered a piece on the singular fork he’d brought with him and held it out to her, his other hand cupped under it to catch any stray crumbs. Prickles of heat crept from her chest up her neck as she leant forward, all too aware of the way Azriel’s eyes were glued to her mouth as she wrapped her lips around the fork. That heat only intensified as she watched him take the next bite, his own lips sliding over where hers had just been.

“You forgot the cream,”  she swallowed down whatever feeling was coursing through her and looked away from him, hands extending out to reach for the canister of whipped cream. 

Azriel took it from her, a devious look on his face as he gently gripped her chin and tipped her head back, filling her mouth with the cream.

“Stop!” She laughed, pressing her foot into his thigh to push him back as she snatched back the can and attempted to gracefully swallow the copious amount of cream. 

“My turn,” he stepped forward, his eyes on her face even as he slotted himself in between her knees. Elain didn’t dare look down to see how high her dress had ridden up her legs. She just raised the can, shaking it a few times as he tilted his own head back and parted his lips.

She went easy on him, taking her finger off the lever as soon as he had a good mouthful. 

Elain watched as he swallowed, his eyes shining with amusement. She watched as his tongue collected what remained on his lips and then her focus went to that little bit of whipped cream that remained right at the corner of his mouth. 

She felt light headed, a little bit out of her body. She was only vaguely aware of her own movements as her hands landed on Azriel’s shoulders. She only just caught the look of surprise in his wide hazel eyes before she pressed her lips to the corner of his, collecting that lingering cream into her own mouth. 

Elain pulled back quickly, suddenly painfully aware of what she’d just done, of the line she’d just crossed. An unspoken and admittedly blurry line, but one that had been firmly in place between them for the past decade. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why… it must be the wi-”

Elain didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence, however, because Azriel’s lips were immediately on hers. One large hand of his found her bare thigh while the other landed against the small of her back, holding her close to him. Her hands slid from his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair. Her fingers twisted into his midnight waves as she pulled him even closer, her entire body arching up into his touch. 

The moan that left his mouth as her lips parted for him, as her breasts pressed against his chest, had an immediate ache building between her thighs, one that only coiled tighter as that hand on her thigh slid dangerously higher, his fingertips digging into her supple flesh as he kissed her.. 

She’d never be able to look at a pumpkin pie, never be able to taste cinnamon or cream again, without thinking about this. Without picturing Azriel standing in between her legs, his hand under her dress, his tongue in her mouth. 

“Is it really just the wine?” He pulled back from her lips just an inch to look at her properly. His hands were still on her body, his touch searing. His lips were swollen, his chest heaved in time with hers as they each attempted to catch their breath.

Elain bit down on her lip and shook her head, her nails scratched softly at his scalp. “No.”

She shifted forward and the movement caused Azriel’s fingers to slide over the thin scrap of lace she wore underneath her dress. 

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, feeling the damp fabric. She whimpered as his fingers pressed in slightly as he dragged them up and over her center. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

He didn’t say it with any sort of pride. Didn’t say it as if he were teasing her. He said it with a certain sort of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite comprehend that she could ever have that sort of reaction because of him. 

Elain’s cheeks blazed with heat, her head spinning. She was so far gone, too consumed with the familiar scent of him coupled with the unfamiliar feel of his hands in a place they’d never gone before to think straight.

“Lain,” He whispered, his lips sliding up her jaw towards her ear. “Tell me to stop.”

“Don’t want you to stop,” she mumbled, turning her face until her lips met his. Her eyes fluttered shut, a moan of her own leaving her mouth only to be swallowed by him as his thumb circled her clit over her underwear.

She should’ve told him to stop. She most definitely should’ve gone home. But she couldn’t bring herself to put an end to this. She couldn’t think of anything past the insistent throbbing between her legs that only he’d be able to satisfy. 

This was Azriel. 

Azriel who’d taught Feyre to drive. Cold to the world Azriel, who warmed so slowly to people but had seemingly been so willing to open up and share himself with her. 

This was the boy that had slotted himself next to her in the church pew and gently took her hand in his at her father’s funeral when the guy she’d been seeing at the time had all but disappeared into the ether. 

It was Azriel that helped Rhys and Cassian at the small reception after the funeral so that the girls didn’t have to worry about anything. And when it came time for Feyre and Nesta to return to their own lives and families after a week of the three of them sharing a bed like they so often did when they were kids, it was Azriel that she had turned to during a moment of weakness, admitting that she couldn’t bear to be in the house alone. 

It was Azriel that had stayed with her all those weeks. It was his arms that she fell asleep in night after night, his shirt that she soaked with her tears. His voice in her ear whispering that he’d always be there for her. 

It was during those weeks that everything had changed. It was on one of those nights when he’d held her close, his fingers pressed to the small of her back, that she’d felt the urge to press her body closer to his, to tilt her head up and kiss him. She’d gone as far as sliding her hands under his shirt, pressing her lips to his neck before she’d gotten ahold of herself.

The desire had been so intense, so all consuming, that it had made her feel ill. 

She’d turned in his arms that night, afraid of what she’d do if she looked at him for even a moment longer. And the second that she faced away from him and he readjusted his grip on her, his fingers tightening on her hip over her shirt - always over, never under, she choked back a sob. 

She’d been so ashamed of wanting him like that, completely overcome with sheer guilt that she could feel anything besides grief in the wake of her father’s death. 

She’d decided then and there that she had to go. That she needed to put distance between herself and this place. Him. So much had already changed, she couldn’t bear to complicate things any further and she knew it would be inevitable if she stuck around. 

It would have been entirely too easy to let it happen, to give in to that pull she’d always felt towards him. But she refused to risk it, too afraid of all the possible repercussions on everyone else involved. So she took the savings she had and the money left for her in her father’s will and she moved across the country just to prove to herself that she could. 

But now that she was back here with his hands confidently navigating her body, there was no time to think. There was only here and now and all she wanted was him on top of her. Under her. She didn’t care as long as she could have him inside her. 

Elain didn’t protest as his hands slid under her thighs, his scars gliding over her smooth skin. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted her and carried her upstairs. Their mouths were fused together apart from split second separations to go over the necessary questions.

Yes, he’d been tested recently. No, he hadn’t slept with anyone since that test. Yes, she was on the pill. No, she didn’t want him to use a condom.

Elain grappled with the hem of her dress, tugging the tight fabric over her head and discarding it somewhere on the landing at the top of the stairs. Azriel’s lips wrapped around a peaked nipple barely a second later as he blindly made his way towards his bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot before he gently laid her down on his bed. 

He stayed standing, eyes scanning hungrily over her body, his bottom lip pulled in between his teeth. Elain blushed under the heat of his gaze. She thought that she must look ridiculous, laid out like this - naked aside from a measly bit of lace and the thigh high black tights she’d worn under her boots. 

“Even prettier than I pictured,” Azriel said, voice soft as he peeled the stockings off each of her legs. His fingers hooked in the waistband of her underwear and she raised her hips, holding her breath as he removed them - torturous and slow - until she was utterly bare before him.

“You pictured this?” Her voice was breathy as she propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he knelt on the floor in front of her. 

“More times than I can count,” he admitted. Azriel’s voice was steady but she saw the smallest inkling of embarrassment in the light dusting of pink high on his cheeks. 

Elain didn’t have a chance to reply to his admission, a gasp leaving her mouth as his fingers gripped her hips as he dragged her to the edge of the mattress and hooked her legs over his shoulders. An unbearable heat stoked low in her stomach at the realisation that the breadth of his shoulders meant that she was spread open inches from his beautiful face.

“Did you ever think of me? Us? Like this?” His lips brushed over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. 

She couldn’t focus, couldn’t conjure up a single thought when his mouth was so close to where she needed him. 

“Lain?” He prompted her again, clearly seeking an answer before he’d give her what she so obviously wanted. 

“Yes,” Elain gave him a shy nod. “A few times.” 

A vast underestimation. 

She’d learnt long ago that just imagining Azriel’s face was enough to get her over the edge. She’d take it to her grave the amount of times she’d whispered his name into her pillow as she imagined his fingers in place of her own. 

Azriel didn’t say anything else but she felt him smile against the crease of her thigh, moments before he finally gave in and ran his tongue over her.

Elain’s fingers grasped at the white linen of his sheets as she tried to remember how to breathe. Azriel was relentless, his talented mouth coaxing out little whimpers and moans from her despite her best efforts to keep quiet. She bit down on her lip, holding back a desperate moan as he slipped a single finger inside her. His other hand slid up the plane of her stomach, fingers bracketing her ribs as his thumb grazed the soft curve of her breast.

Her back arched off the mattress, hips bucking up under his mouth. He moved his hand down from her breast, slinging that arm across her stomach to keep her in place as he added another finger and wrapped his lips around her aching clit. 

She couldn’t bring herself to care about how quickly she came for him, her thighs threatening to close around his head, her nails digging so hard into the arm pinning her down that she knew he’d have little half moon marks on his skin for hours to come. 

Elain grasped at the fabric of his sweater to pull him up to her and Azriel stood, reaching for the material at the back of his neck and pulling it off his body in one smooth motion. She raised onto her knees, eyes still locked on his as she bent and pressed a number of kisses across his hips, her fingers making quick work of his belt, followed by the button and zipper of his trousers. 

She took pride at the sight of her red lipstick smeared on his skin as she leaned back and watched him finish undressing. She could see the shape of him through the thin material of his boxers and still, her mouth went dry when they came off and the length of him was revealed to her. She moved forward again, wanted to reach for him and feel him in her hands. Take him into her mouth. Leave her lipstick all over every inch of him. But Azriel stopped her, shaking his head and gently guiding her back down to the bed. 

“Lay back,” he instructed. His hands ran along the curves of her body as he guided her thighs apart with his knee and settled himself between her legs. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “As much as I’d love to feel your pretty mouth on me, I just need to be inside you.” 

She swallowed, biting down on her lower lip at his earnestness.

“Do you want that?” He continued, pulling back slightly so he could look at her properly.  “Want me inside you?”

She didn’t say anything, only reached between their bodies to run her hand along the hard length that rested heavy against her stomach. 

Azriel groaned at her touch and the sound sent a new wave of warmth coursing through her body. “Answer me, Elain.” 

Elain could’ve come right at that moment, just from the authoritativeness of that command, but she took a second to collect herself, dragging her thumb over him and smoothing that drop of moisture around the head of his cock before she answered him. “I want you inside me, Azriel.” 

Azriel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, two fingers tucking under her chin to lift her lips to his just as he started to slowly and carefully push into her.  

Elain had spent years of her life picturing what it would be like to fuck Azriel. 

She’d thought of him putting her on her knees, taking her from the back. She’d imagined his hand around her throat, maybe tugging at her hair. She’d thought that it’d be hard and fast and edged with a little bit of pain. Maybe she’d expected that from him because it’s what she was used to from most of the men with whom she’d shared a bed. 

What she hadn’t expected was for him to take his time with her, to treat her with such care. Azriel kept his eyes on her as he sank into her, waiting patiently for her breathing to steady as she adjusted to the stretch of him. She hadn’t expected the smooth, slow roll of his hips. Hadn’t dreamed that he’d continuously pull her closer and closer. She hadn’t ever let herself go as far as to imagine that he’d intertwine their fingers, holding her hands tight in his as he fucked her. 

Not that this could be considered fucking. Not when it felt a whole lot more like something else.

“You’re perfect. Every fucking part of you is perfect.” Azriel whispered against her lips, more to himself than her, as he thrusted into her, tearing her out of her own mind. Out of the terrifying thought that this was anything more than simply sex. He’d brought one of his knees up, allowing for a deeper angle that had her grasping at his back, her nails sharp as they dragged down his skin. 

“Azriel.” His name was all she could say and it left her mouth in three long drawn out syllables punctuated by sharp intakes of breath. It was the only word in her vocabulary as he moved within her, the head of his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside her that left her scalp and skin tingling as white hot pleasure once again coiled low and tight in her stomach. 

“I know, Lain.” He nodded. He didn’t need her to say anything else. They’d always understood each other with as little as a shared glance and so he knew that she was close. Could most likely feel the way she tensed around him. Felt the frantic way she grasped his shoulders, his hair. Could probably hear it in the keening of her voice as she begged him to go a bit harder, a little bit faster. Pleading with him to give her more.

Azriel gave her what she wanted, patiently following each of her garbled instructions as he picked up his pace. The hand that had been holding her thigh up to her chest moved in between her legs to run quick circles over her clit and Elain moaned his name over and over again, fighting to keep her eyes open through her climax so she could watch his face as he pulled out of her, his hand sliding over the length of his cock as he finished with her name on his lips. 

Azriel kissed again, long and slow, before he sat up and knelt between her legs once more. His eyes traveled slowly from her face down her body, lingering on the proof of what they’d just done decorating her stomach. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, his throat tensing as he swallowed. “You’ll be the end of me.”

…

He’d cleaned her up after,  had held her in his arms and told her little stories about Shadow’s escapades and the new pieces of jewelry he was working on. He listened as she told him about the workshops she ran at the apothecary she’d taken over and about the two twins that had become more like friends than employees since she’d hired them. 

 Elain had thought that she was in the clear, had been elated that things seemed normal, that crossing that line between them hadn’t somehow ruined everything. But she’d lulled herself into a fall sense of security because once Azriel’s eyes closed and his breathing slowed, it all hit her at once.

One minute she was silently tracing the planes of his face with her eyes as he slept and the next she was fighting back tears, her heart pounding against her chest as what could only be described as panic started to consume every bone in her body. 

The sheets felt too heavy, the scent of sex was too strong, and the sudden realisation that she could no longer pretend that her feelings for him didn’t extend far past simple friendship had her silently slipping from between his sheets and out of his bed. 

A sob wracked Elain’s body the second she was on the other side of his bedroom door, stark naked in his upstairs hallway. She moved quickly, grabbing her dress from where she’d discarded it earlier in the heat of the moment. She slipped it over her head, tugging it down to cover herself before scrambling down the stairs. She stopped in the kitchen to collect her phone and her bag, ignoring the forgotten slice of pie on the counter. Shadow lifted her head from her bed by the Christmas tree in the living room, those all-knowing eyes bearing into Elain’s soul as she quickly slid on her boots and closed the front door.  

There were no Ubers available at this hour, no cabs in the vicinity. She couldn’t call her sisters. Definitely couldn’t call their husbands. Elain had no choice but to walk the hour back to Feyre and Rhys’ home in a too short dress and no coat because she’d left it in his house along with her underwear and her dignity. 

The sun was just beginning to rise when she finally reached her destination, exhaustion settling deep in her bones as she trudged up the icy walkway. There were blisters on the back of her heels from where her boots rubbed against her feet as she walked. She unlocked the door with her borrowed key, quietly shutting it behind her with the intention of going straight upstairs and crying in the shower where she would attempt to regain feeling in her body.

“What the hell happened to you?” Elain turned to find Nesta sitting in an armchair in front of the fireplace. Her gray eyes widened as she took in Elain’s appearance.

Fuck. 

Elain was still sobbing, trails of hot tears rapidly falling over her frozen cheeks. There was snow in her hair and on her clothes, leaving her a miserable, wet mess as it melted. 

“Elain?” Feyre appeared on her other side, most likely coming back to this room from the kitchen. Her arms wrapped around Elain’s shoulders, quickly steering her towards the chair opposite Nesta. “ What happened? Did you walk here?” 

“I…” Elain collapsed into the chair. Feyre scurried around, quickly finding a thick blanket and tucking it around her trembling sister. “I messed up.” 

“What do you mean?” Nesta asked, deep lines of concern formed on her forehead. “Weren’t you just with Az?” 

Elain sobbed harder at the mention of his name. 

“Is he okay? Why didn’t he bring you home?” Feyre knelt in front of her, her hands gripping Elain’s arms. 

“I… we…” Elain tried to calm herself down, to force air into her lungs. “I’ve ruined it.”

“You’re not making any sense, El. What do you mean you ruined it?” Nesta asked again, voice firm but hushed. 

“I had sex with Azriel.”  Elain buried her face in her hands, meaning to avoid seeing her sister’s reactions but because she couldn’t help herself, Elain removed her hands and raised her bloodshot eyes just in time to see the fleeting look of surprised amusement her sisters exchanged before their eyes were back on her.

It was Nesta that eventually  motioned with her hand, wordlessly prompting Elain to explain herself.

“We were just talking and then he asked if I wanted some pie and he had a bit of cream on the corner of his mouth so I kissed him. It was just a peck, but then he kissed me and it… wasn’t just a peck.” Elain explained, words spilling from her mouth as she nervously wrung her hands. “And then one thing led to another and we did what we did and he fell asleep and I was looking at him and then my heart started pounding and I felt like I was going to have a panic attack so I left.”

“You just left?” Nesta stared at Elain, dumbfounded. “No note? No text?” 

“I didn’t even stop to find my underwear, Nesta. Do you think I left a note?” Elain snapped. 

“This isn’t necessarily bad, Elain.” Feyre bit her cheek. “I mean, I think I’m mostly surprised the two of you haven’t hooked up before this.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah,” Nesta chimed in. “You guys were always together. Constantly sneaking off together… you weren’t seriously just out for a drive or a walk all those times?”

“And the way he looks at you! I mean, come on, El…” Feyre cut in before Elain had a chance to tell Nesta that she and Azriel really had just been out for quiet drives and walks. That they hadn’t exchanged much more than a hug in all these years. 

“Oh my god!” Nesta’s eyes went wide as she turned to face Feyre. “Do you remember my wedding video? The way he looked at her when she came down the aisle!”

“And when they danced!” Feyre added in, her smile widening. 

“Cass and I swore that they’d gone home together that night when we watched it back.”

“Jesus. Stop.” Elain tossed the blanket off of her lap and stood up as fresh tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t take any more of this. Couldn’t stand to listen to her sisters rehash a list of moments that she herself had taken careful measures to repress. “I have to go.”

“Yeah, maybe you should get some rest.” Feyre nodded. “You’ve had a big night and you’re overwhelmed but it’ll be fine. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“No,” Elain shook her head. “I have to go. I can’t be here.”

“Elain,” Nesta rose, Feyre tailing her as the two girls followed Elain as she made a beeline for the stairs. “You’re completely overreacting. Just take a few deep breaths and everything -” 

“I don’t want to fucking meditate, Nesta. I want to go home.” Elain turned to face them, only to see twin expressions of shock on her sister’s faces at the result of her outburst. 

Elain closed her eyes for a second before she continued, attempting to keep her voice as level and calm as possible. “He’s my best friend and I’ve ruined it. I can’t be here. I can’t be in this town. I can’t see him. I just need to go.” 

“El…” Feyre reached for Elain’s shoulder but she maneuvered out of her grasp. 

“Please don’t tell the boys.” She whispered quietly, glancing between her sisters - letting them see the desperation in her eyes. 

They both exchanged concerned looks but ultimately nodded, silently promising that this would stay between the three of them. Elain muttered a thank you, tears steadily sliding down her cheeks, before she turned around and made her way upstairs to quickly shower and pack her back.

Two hours later, she was at the airport and booking the first available flight back home. 

The first thing she did when she got back to her apartment, after wearily collapsing into her bed, was pick up her phone and open a text thread that had sat ignored for a couple weeks now.

Hey! I’m back in town - you free this week?

#elriel fic #everywhere everything #my writing #elriel smut #modern au #elain x azriel

[morallyinept]

JET SET CHRISTMAS - A Dieter Bravo Christmas One Shot

Summary: Dieter is flying away for a tropical filming schedule over Christmas, and you find a way to give him some First Class Service on his flight.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5.6K

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks)/tit wank/oral M receiving/drug usage/Dieter is a mess, as always.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I really enjoy writing for my sweet, messy Dieter. And Christmas Dieter is no exception. 😎

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

Fun fact; approximately eighty-seven and a half million passenger’s travel through LAX airport in a given year. And each year that number steadily increases.

To put it mildly, it’s a damn fucking busy airport, capiche?

It is the world’s fourth busiest airport and the United States’ second busiest airport after Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta.

LAX holds the record for the world’s busiest origin and destination airport, since relative to other airports on this blue marble floating in the universe, many more travellers begin or end their trips in LA, rather than use it merely as a connection onwards to somewhere better and less congested. It's also the only airport to rank among the top five U.S. airports for both passenger and cargo traffic.

And considering approximately two-hundred and thirty-nine thousand odd passengers flow through this airport during any given day, being singled out and spotted amongst the hordes is always as surprising as it is annoying.

Dieter is used to people shoving their phones in his face and snapping away at him as he takes a massive bite of a vegan chilli burrito, or as he’s pissing over a fire hydrant whilst high on LSD; it kind of comes with the territory of being an actor whose notoriety precedes him.

You’d think you would be able to remain inconspicuous as you trundle on through the swilling crowds of holiday makers and businessmen in their fancy, Armani suits, wheeling your suitcase beside you.

But oh no, that’s asking too fucking much, right?

He’s not bitter about it; more of a casual acceptance that this circus is his life now, as absurd as it all seems when he falls back to Earth to try and keep his feet on the ground with a sharp shunt. And the mishaps keep on mishappening, even though he tries.

He tries so fucking hard sometimes.

But, at times like this, when he’s simply doing what everyone else is doing in the airport for the most part, it’s somewhat irritating to have fans and paparazzi stalking his every move around the terminal like poachers waiting for their chance to capture an endangered species.

Look, there he is, buying wired earphones! Get him!

Keeping his head down, masked behind large Rayban sunglasses, Dieter makes his way towards the private lounge near his gate. Only stopping when he’s accosted, seemingly at gunpoint, by over enthusiastic admirers of his work and surly attitude alike, begging for a selfie.

He tries his best to feign a smile for them, after all they buy all the cheaply manufactured shit with his face on, but more often than not it comes out as a less-than-impressed blank look about his prominently exhausted features.

Eyes that seem dull, peer out lifelessly at the screens through puffy sockets, and fuzzy scruff peppered across his jaw line grazes around his weak smile that is almost non-existent. 

(He would read later online, that he was on drugs, hence the tiredness straining around his bloodshot eyes. And they would be fucking right about that.)

Although truth be told, Dieter hasn’t really slept much at all, which is to blame for his current deer-in-headlights appearance.

Staying up into the wee hours of the morning reading through the script, still trying to decide if he actually wants the part or not, despite contracts being signed well over a few months back, with what felt like a gun to his back.

Dieter Bravo is reduced to doing fucking romcoms now.

Damage control, his agent had dutifully warned him.

Punishment for his latest screw up is some stupid romcom set in the Bahamas, with filming scheduled over Christmas, and his wardrobe will consist of jazzy floral shirts for the next few months.

His phone is chock full of voice notes reciting the lines of his character Mateo in different accents, that he’s still not happy with as he listened to them on repeat, whilst strolling through the terminal, until his earphones gave out, and he queued in line to buy some more at the Duty Free.

Mateo. He’s playing a fucking character named Mateo. He grinds down so hard on his teeth he dislodges a filling. 

He’d survived the night on coffee to get him through; his frantic night owl tendencies over taking him to the point that he decided to just stay up anyhow and indulged in a blunt or two whilst watching porn, despite his dick pulling limp after a few tugs. Something that happens more often than not as of late.

Well, at least Christmas alone in the Bahamas beats spending it alone in rehab. Again. 

But the caffeine and weed is starting to wane and filter out of his system, leaving him slugging like a zombie as he trudges through the airport.

He passes a giant Christmas tree, its twinkly bokeh lights bleeding into the back of his retinas as he squints under the sunglasses. 

Dieter makes his way through the terminal with lazy strides after leaving the prowlers behind; the wheels of his suitcase squeaking against the shiny flooring, that at times, feels like navigating an ice-rink.

Once he arrives at the Private Boarding lounge, reserved only for super important executives, or washed out, coke-head movie stars on their last chance, he approaches a woman behind the desk who appears to have been using the self tanner a little too enthusiastically.

“Good morning, sir.” She chirps away happily through an obscenely orange face.

A security officer takes his case and bag, and lifts them up on the belt to be scanned as Dieter empties his pockets and takes off his Rolex and rings. They plink into the tray the officer holds out for him.

The colour of her skin stops him in his tracks as he peers at her over the top of his shades incredulously.

Meh, he’d still fuck her if given half the chance. Yeah. He could do with a nice blow job or something right about now. 

Her smile is unrelenting, revealing stark white gnashers that gleam and glare through bright red lipstick. How anyone can be this jaunty at this time of the morning is beyond Dieter’s scope of understanding, but he throws a ghostly smile back at her trying not to stare at her face, bemused, as he’s scanned and patted down.

He hands over his passport and notices she won’t stop touching her hair.

She scrutinises his credentials and looks back at him and smiles even wider; a jaw full of white piano keys, her teeth seemingly unable to fit inside her mouth fully, with a massive overbite going on for dessert.

He hastily rethinks the possibility of a blow job. 

“Can I just say, I really loved you in Cliff Beasts…” She gushes, leaning forward to him over the desk. 

Dieter gets a whiff of her perfume like a suckerpunch to the jaw; overpowering like she’s doused herself in gasoline. It almost knocks him out like Novocaine. But the flash of cleavage more than makes up for it as his nostrils flare and itch.

“Oh yeah?” He says, elbow on the desk and sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his aquiline nose with a grizzly smirk. 

“Yeah. My son really loved it too.” She finishes, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

He ignores her swooning compliment and smiles thinly through gritted teeth. He instantly pushes his shades back up. He has enough baggage to check in, he doesn’t need more.

“You played Gary right?”

“Gio.” He corrects. 

“Right. Gio. He likes Gio. Would you sign this for him?” She pushes him a piece of paper and he takes her pen and scrawls his John Hancock over it without any resistance, despite yelling no, fuck off! Loudly and repeatedly inside of his sludge brain.

“Thank you so much, that’s amazing!” She exclaims at him in a high pitched voice that makes his ears bleed.

“No problem, honey.” Dieter replies in a heavy voice as he puts his watch and rings back on.

“Did you pack your bag yourself, Mr Bravo?” Orange face asks, suddenly remembering she has a job to do despite being immensely star struck by this handsome, yet incredibly hungover, enigma standing before her. 

He nods once.

“Have you been approached by anyone asking you to carry anything for them?”

“I have twelve kilos of cocaine in my carry on.” Dieter remarks sardonically as he scratches under his chin, as he eyes the security officer who doesn’t find it funny.

She laughs however, and taps away on the keyboard happily with her nails, stealing glances at him as he frowns glumly. This whole charade is already starting to grate. 

She hands him back his passport, and he’s blinded again by the searing light from her mouth as she wishes him well on his journey. 

“Merry Christmas!” She calls to him and he responds by throwing his fist up in the air, dragging his case and bag as he walks away. 

Once in his First Class seat on the plane, he orders two whiskeys neat from the gnarly looking steward who eyes him scathingly, and dutifully reminds him that drinks won’t be served until they're in the air, no matter who he is. 

Dieter’s phone vibrates in his hand, and it's his agent wishing him a happy holidays, or some shit.

He replies with the middle finger emoji, before switching it to airplane mode. 

Sulking, Dieter slumps into his spacious booth seat throwing the complimentary, soft fleece blanket over his head. 

Dieter wakes a few hours later into the flight, the crick in his neck at breaking point and his bowels about to vacate all over the seat unless he goes right now. 

He passes the same steward and asks if they have anything natural for a dicky stomach, and she scoffs at him like he’s the self-entitled prick she assumes him to be. 

He’s not sure why he’s got the shits like lava coming out his ass; he hasn't eaten anything substantial in the last forty-eight hours as he grips onto the toilet seat with vigor.

Once the stomach cramps subside, and he feels like he won’t shit himself on the way back to his seat, he leaves the confines of the bathroom sheepishly and looking somewhat worse for wear. 

Biting back a growl, he sinks into his seat forlorn and weary. 

That is until you approach him and touch his shoulder gently. 

“Here,” you say to him. “I couldn’t help but overhear you're not feeling so hot.”

“Um, yeah.” Dieter says, pulling his sunglasses off completely to get a better look at you.

You, in your neatly pressed uniform and scarf coiled around your neck. You, with your fluttery, kind eyes and a smile that literally steals the breath from his lungs in a quick snap. So much so that he almost chokes.

You, leaning forward into his personal space to put down a bottle of Fiji water and some Imodium in a box you fish from your pocket. 

“Any chance of a diazepam in there?” He asks and you smile. 

“Fraid not. Nervous flyer?”

He shakes his head. “No. No.” He reaches for the box with shaky fingers. “Thank you, honey. You’re really sweet.” Dieter compliments. 

“Dieter, please.” He slaps his hand over his heart, possibly an attempt to mask how hard it’s beating right now.

“You need anything else Mr Bravo, you just ask me, okay?”

He peers at your name tag and looks up at you smirking. 

“Feel better, Dieter.” You wink at him and carry on down the aisle. 

He watches you go, his head poking out, neck craning like a Meerkat as he zones in on your ass.

“Well, shit.” He mumbles to himself and the passenger inside the seat across from him snorts in agreement. 

“Merry fucking Christmas, right?” He says to Dieter, and Dieter can only but raise his cool bottle of water in agreement. 

“Oh. Easy. Here comes Medusa!”

Dieter snorts, trying to hold his whiskey in his mouth. 

“Well, we’re going to do one of those things at least.” Dieter smirks.

“I think she thinks we’re going to get drunk and cause a riot. Get our dicks out and piss everywhere. Maybe open some airlock doors for shits and giggles.” The passenger opposite him whispers, chortling as the stony faced steward walks past them, giving them a careful stink eye.

They both burst out laughing like little boys as soon as she’s out of earshot.

He can already feel his head getting fuzzy and floaty; well on his way to boarding the train at crunkered-town. Mix that in with hardly any sleep and you’ve a recipe for a drooling, comatose mess right there.

“Did you know it’s absolutely impossible to do that? Open the airlock door mid-flight, I mean? Air pressure and all that shit, man.” The passenger twists the cap off his small wine bottle and pours it out into his plastic tumbler.

“It’s not like the movies.” Dieter agrees.

“No. You’re all a bunch of fucking liars, making us believe that shit. Fucking shame on you, man.” 

“What’s your favourite movie?” Dieter asks. 

“Well it ain’t that Cliff Beasts shit.”

Dieter wheezes as he laughs. 

“Seriously man, what were you thinking?”

“I was high for most of it. Stuck in some fancy British hotel during lockdown.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“You ever screw that Carol Cobb? Man, I’d love to get me a piece of that ass.”

“Nah. Not my type.” Dieter says, sucking against his teeth and trying not to remember the clusterfuck of his quick divorce from Anika - who seemed exactly his type - after their quick wedding in Vegas.

Turns out she wasn’t an angel at all. More like a crazed, obsessed demon whose PMS tantrums were worse than the Devil’s. Dieter shudders as he literally feels his balls recoil.

“Oldboy.” The passenger says, sipping his wine after a few minutes contemplating.

“Classic Korean viewing for budding serial killers. Are you a budding serial killer, David?” Dieter asks with glassy eyes.

“Depends on what day of the week it is, my friend.” David states. 

They both laugh manically again.

Dieter flops back in his seat; his body turned into his head rest, glancing down the aisle, as he and the stranger, David, who over the last hour or so he’s learned is on his way to a conference, talk and drink merrily. 

Dieter spots you further down the aisle, tending to another passenger when you look up and smile at him.

“Shit man, I gotta take a piss.” Dieter announces, standing up on wobbly legs. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He notices David put some wireless buds in his ears. 

“Shouldn’t use them things, man. EMF.” Dieter says.

“Pffft.” David retorts and waves him off. 

Dieter follows you as you retreat to the galley and smile again before pulling the curtain closed behind you. 

Inside the bathroom, Dieter slaps his face and talks to himself in the mirror.

“Just fucking talk to her, man. Say hello. What, you don’t know how to say hello to anyone? No, that’s fucking stupid… Hello. Hey. Hi. Hi. Hello? Helloooo…? Who the fuck are you man, the Queen? Jesus.” 

After washing up, he retreats out of the bathroom and glances down the aisle where the cabin is slowly dimming as the oncoming night swallows the plane; most people are already catching Z’s.

He glances at the drawn curtain and takes a deep breath. 

Behind the curtain you’re tidying up the galley, when a head pokes through the middle of it, floating there with unkempt fluffy hair and slightly dilated eyes. 

“Mr Bravo.” You greet, with a coy smile. 

“Helloooo.” He says, and then chuckles. 

“Hello.” You repeat back. “Can I help you with anything?” You query as he stumbles through and tries to straighten himself up. 

“I’m good. I’m good.” He looks around the galley. He scratches under his scruffy facial hair, his earring catching the light above, and twinkling at you. “This is a nice place you’ve got here. I like what you’ve done with it.”

You lean against the galley, watching him as he strokes down the shiny metal of the galley doors.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Who? Me? Never better, honey.” 

“How big are your hands?” You ask, looking at them as he gesticulates wildly with them.

Dieter looks down and makes a fist with his hand before letting it free into a wide, stretched out palm. Silver rings adorn his pointer and pinky.

“Pretty big, I guess.”

“You know what they say about men with big hands...” You remark. 

“What do they say?” He grins.

“Makes their dick look really small.” 

Dieter grins and then wheezes again into a laugh. "God, I fucking hope not."

“Let me see those bad boys.” You reach for his hands and he regards you carefully as you step closer to him.

You hold your hands up to his and he rests both palms flat against yours; his fingers towering over yours ridiculously, and you chuckle, amazed. 

Dieter hooks his fingers over the top of yours and squeezes, smirking.

“You know, I really can’t fucking stand long haul.”

“Yeah?” You ask as you drop your hands.

“Yeah. Loathe it. I suppose you’re used to it though, right?”

“Yeah, I do it a lot. I don’t really notice it that much now.” You shrug.

“Yeah, me too.” He says and you snort.

You busy yourself pouring him some water and place the plastic cup in his hand.

“I’ve enjoyed it this time, though. I suppose I have you to thank for that.” Dieter gasps as he gulps back the water and wipes his lips on the back of his hand. “Sorry, sorry. That sounded so weird."

“No, it didn’t.” You reassure.

"I'm not creepy." He assures, scratching behind his ear.

You smile at one another for a few moments, just starting at each other’s faces quietly until Dieter hiccups. Loudly. 

“You’re kinda cute when you’re drunk.” You say, taking the empty cup from him. 

“Cute enough that you'd want to have sex with me?” He asks, brazenly. 

You scoff and laugh and then look at him biting your lip. “Are you drunk enough that you can’t get it up?”

You watch as he shoves his hand down the front of his pants and gives himself a squeeze. Oh yeah. He’s hard. “Not yet.” 

“So come on then.” You tempt him.

“Here? Right here?” He baulks as he watches you pull your panties down from under your skirt and tuck them in his pocket. “Fuck!” 

“Why not, it's kinda hot, right?”

“Fuck yeah it is-” He’s silenced mid-sentence by your lips pressing onto his, and taking him by complete surprise.

He simply leans forward and plants one on you; his body in the driving seat, and he can only look on from the back seat as he careens into you, right through the windshield.

Dieter pulls away, hovering in front of your face, groaning as your hand cups his cock over his pants, and biting his bottom lip as he pants hungrily.

You kiss him again with a slick smile, and his big hands find their way onto your face. His fingers stroking delicately and feeling your skin under the pads of them and trying to convince himself that you’re real. 

“You are real, right?” He gasps as you suck on his bottom lip. His lips are soft and inviting and so full - especially that damned bottom one. Squidgy like marshmallows, so wet and juicy.

“I’m as real as you want me to be, baby.” You growl sucking his lip harder.

“Mmph, fuck…” He gasps. "It's just, this one time, I got really high and fucked a woman that lived in my mirror. This is happening, right? We’re going to have sex?”

“Yes, Dieter. We’re going to have sex. And I don't live in your mirror.” 

“And you definitely want to have sex with me?” He checks. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

“No,” you giggle. 

"Good, good." He kisses you again, groaning wildly.

It suddenly gets extremely hot, like the plane has just dive bombed right into the sun and Dieter feels it on the back of his neck and down his back. 

You can hear murmuring behind the curtain and it’s the familaral snark of the stony faced steward. You quickly take his hand and seal you both inside the nearest toilet cubicle.

You flick the latch to lock the door behind you; his hands are reaching for your waist as you kiss him hungrily on the lips.

You both clatter backwards; the back of your calves hitting the base of the toilet and him keeping you steady as you lose your balance for a second.

You’re both gasping around your kiss; you’re tugging at his oversized cardigan, and running your hands up under his t-shirt, feeling his paunchy stomach underneath your fingers as they run amok over his skin.

His hands are doing the same, squeezing around your hips and under the back of your shirt before he comes to the front and begins to unbutton it slowly.

You break away from his lips; looking down at his fingers shaking profusely as he does it, his tongue out concentrating on the task.

“Are you okay?” You ask, tilting his chin up to you.

“Yeah. Um…” he drops his hands and sighs. “It’s just, you’re so fucking hot. And I'm... not.”

"Yes you are."

He shakes his head. "I'm a mess, baby."

"A hot mess." You say.

He looks as if he’s about to cry when he stares at your chest as you open your shirt to reveal your bra to him.

Imagine his excitement when it’s one that hooks together in the front and not the back. 

“Oh my God, your tits are fantastic!” Dieter wheezes from the back of his throat, beside himself. “May I?”

You nod, giggling, as he gulps and runs his hands all over your breasts, squeezing and massaging them, before slipping his fingers around the clasp and freeing you.

He begins feeling out your nipples that are wide awake under his rough fingertips; pinching them and twisting them gently. Teasing them and causing the utmost carnage between your legs as he does it.

He can only stare like a dimwit as they heave out; the teenage boy in him having a fit as though he’s seeing mammary glands for the first time in his life.

Look, Dieter. Boobies... heheheee!

You gasp and throw your head backwards as his digits run amok over those erect buds, and he kisses and nips at your neck avidly like a hungry vampire.

You reach out your hand and steady yourself on the sink as he kisses down your collarbone towards your cleavage. He sucks on one of your nipples and you can see him doing it in the grimy mirror too.

Dieter Bravo has my fucking nipple in his mouth! Jesus Christ…

His mouth is suckling enthusiastically, as he groans and pants, and the pull of it, his tongue flicking against it, feels incredible, like electric tingles pulsing through them as he nips on them gently between his teeth.

A delicious throbbing begins to take place inside your clit, making it ache profusely, and your pussy is having a panic attack and breathing into a brown paper bag - completely over-hyped and overwhelmed.

“Mmm.” You whine.

“Are you enjoying that?” He asks, eagerly. "Is it nice?"

“Yeah, baby. Feels so good when you play with my tits.” 

“Fuck,” he gulps, giddy and starts to grin. 

You smirk, biting your lip. 

"What else can I play with?" Dieter asks, giddy somewhat.

You run your hands through his already messy hair, tugging it lightly, as he does the same heinous act to the other nipple, and looks up at you with blown mesmeric eyes as he murmurs contentedly around your nipple. 

“Mmm, Dieter.” You mouth to him. “I need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, I need to feel your big, fat cock fill me up, baby.”

“Want me giving it to you?”

“Yeah. Want everyone to hear you make me scream as you pump me full. Let me go back out there with your come dripping down my legs.”

“Oh… Shit. You're naughty, aren't you?" He grins.

"Bad to the bone, sweetie." You smirk.

He then kisses slowly up your clavicle like a snake slithering towards you, hypnotising you in the process with wide pupils and a crooked grin, heading back towards your mouth where he swamps you again.

“I-I need a minute.” Dieter says, pulling back.

You reach down and grope his swollen cock over his pants, rubbing and jerking slowly as you swallow his moans that intensify around your tongue as you pump.

He whines, shuddering, hips bucking into your grip enthusiastically before stalling with a heavy grunt.

“You okay?” You query, bemused.

“Yeah I just… I might’ve…” he looks a little sheepish and embarrassed. 

“Did you just come?” You ask, stroking through his greying, fluffy hair and he pushes his forehead to your chest and groans loudly. 

“Hey, it's alright. It’s kinda hot actually.” 

“Is it?” He winces. 

He pulls his pants down and his thick cock is sticky and covered in himself. He's still half hard and you can work with that. 

You push him back gently so he’s sitting on the toilet, seat down. “Show me.”

"What?"

"Show me the mess you've made." You prompt.

“I’m sorry… this doesn’t usually happen.” He lies. It happens all the time, especially when he’s half cut. Which is, you know, all the time. 

“Sssh, baby. Let me take care of you.” You crouch down between his legs, pick up his softening cock and place it between your tits.

"Can I suck it?" You ask licking your lips.

“Jesus Christ…” He groans, watching as you pump him with your breasts.

It squelches, his creamy ejaculate in the deep trench of your cleavage as his flush cock is massaged slowly back to life by your mounds.

"Fuck..." he groans, watching you.

"Oh, I would love you to, baby." Dieter gasps.

He holds his crumpled t-shirt up, revealing more of his soft tummy spread and slotted belly button, as you run your tongue up the hard length of him.

He whines out as he slides fully into your mouth. His hands are thrown up on the back of the wall behind the toilet, pressed flat as you hoover up his cock with intense grit.

He grunts out a fantastic noise that gives your scalp prickles as he fills your whole mouth with his length and girth, fully hard again.

His rolling eyes search up to the ceiling as his hips move in time with you as you slurp him up and down.

You’re taking him in further with each suck, and he can feel himself at the back of your throat, tickling against your uvula and gag reflex.

“Okay, we need to fuck or I’m going to come again.” He pants. “Please.”

“You’re cute when you beg, Dieter.” You say, tonguing over his head.

“I’ll get on my fucking knees on this filthy piss stained floor if that’s what it takes!" 

You pull him up on his feet as the intense, wondrous feeling travels the length of his cock.

He slips his hand between your legs and slides his fingers across the slit of your pussy; feeling how wet you are before he pushes two of them up inside you. Although, wet is an understatement; it’s like a tsunami has just hit. 

Swirling his thumb over your clit, you gasp, feeling those fingers, thick and wriggling, in the slick oil inside your fleshy walls. You moan out as he begins sucking on one of your nipples again.

“Fuck, you’re soaking all over my fingers.” He groans as he pushes them in you deeply.

"Mmm, it's all you, Dieter." You see him blush and it makes you soar. "You're so hot."

"I am?"

"Yeah. So fucking hot."

The feel of his fingers furrowing inside you makes you dizzy and weak. You reach for his cock and pump him slowly inside your hand.

His mouth is like an engulfing vortex that you’d happily dive into, and be cast off into oblivion forever. A deep choking is felt in your throat as you gasp out around his pert lips, struggling for breath.

"Let me fuck you, how shall we do it?" He whines.

You smirk and simply sit him down on the lid again, straddling him and sliding down onto that bulging cock of his.

You both groan out as you slip yourself over him and begin riding him slowly and deeply.

He utters out a deep, guttural groan inside your ear.

Despite him being a bit of a mess, his cock is impressive as you feel it bottom out.

“Fuck, Dieter!” You gasp as he utterly fills you up to the point that you’re the fullest you’ve ever been. That feeling you get when you’ve had way too much fucking pie and if you move you might split and spill out the sides. 

"Damn, you have a big cock, baby." You grin at him.

“Oh God, this pussy is so tight.” Dieter whines.

You’re snug, tight fitting around him; pinching slightly, but you will yourself to sit all the way down on him - wanting every inch of him - and rocking your hips around him in a steady rhythm. Round and round, and up and down…

“Shit…” He puffs and you can see him clench.

“Don’t come, Dieter.” You warn gently. You’re nowhere near close yet. 

He blows out through his cheeks. “I… fuck. Feels too good.”

“Don’t. Come. Dieter.” You repeat, working a little harder, feeling your clit rub deliciously in the bundle of fuzzy hairs at the base of him. 

“Please…” He whines. 

You shake your head as you whine. 

“Please baby, let me fill you up.” 

Dieter utters out a small groan again to you through his puffy lips. You can’t abnegate yourself away from biting down hard on the bottom one, and sucking it between your lips.

“Not yet. Hold onto it.” You instruct.

"I can't, fuck-"

You pinch his nipples, hard. "Yes. You can. Hold it, Dieter."

“Ah, ow!” He whines as you feel his fingers dig into your hips. 

He smirks at you as you kiss him again as you wind yourself up and down on him whilst he grabs and gropes at your ass and moves you around on him too.

The sounds from the wetness of your cunt sliding up and down on his cock can be heard around the toilet cubicle like fine music, your mutual gasps leading the vocals.

“Does that feel good?” Dieter croons to you as you whine and mewl around him. “My cock inside you, hmm? Am I doing good, baby?”

You nod and smile at him. “So fucking good.”

He kisses your breasts again as you lean back; your hands on his broad shoulders fisting inside the wool of his cardigan. His own large hands supporting your back.

After a few minutes, he stands up with you and sits you on the cold metal sink, pushing his dick up into you faster.

“Aah fuck, Dieter!” You cry out and then realise that it’s probably too loud and wonder if anyone in the cabin has heard it, as you both enrol in membership at the Mile High Club.

Dieter fucks you harder; moving in and out of your pussy with the rolls of his hips like he's winding a hula hoop around his waist; looking down and watching himself do it too. Seeing your sticky juices coating his dick in a slick honey and making it squelchy good.

“Fuck me harder, Dieter. Don’t come.” You rasp to him.

“You want it hard?” He wheezes. “Turn around, baby.”

He’s pushing you forward as far as the confined space will allow you to go over and enters you from behind. 

“Oh shit!” You pant as he fucks you harder at your command.

“Like that? Is this how you want it?"

You can feel yourself soaring; that intense, pleasurable moment where all the building reaches its peak and starts to spill over. Unwinding like a coil, snapping back like an elastic band; a nuclear bomb destroying a small city. 

He can see your face in the mirror; lips parted through your pants, eyes staring back at him as he fuck you into high Heaven. At thirty-seven odd thousand feet, you’re not that far off from it, to be fair. 

"Oh God... fuck, baby! I can't hold on much longer!" He pants. "Your pussy feels too good."

“Ah yeah!” You mewl through a long, drawn out gasp, coming hard as fuck. “Come for me, Dieter!”

Dieter’s orgasm face is legendary; eyes rolling so far into the back of his head like he’s been possessed by demons. His mouth is making a small O as he sucks in hisses and breathes out grunts slowly through his bliss.

“Fuck, I’m coming, baby!” He splashes out inside of you, filling you up with that hot, salty goop, and it’s already beginning to drip out the sides of your pussy as you come around him. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Waiting for the delicious cream pie when he slides out of you and watches as his ejaculate sluices down your cunt.

A few slow thrusts and twitches as he empties out, and Dieter leans forward and trails tired kisses up the side of your neck; coming down from the high and feeling that his legs are now shaky, unsteady stalks.

“We just had sex,” you can hear him smirk and chortle inside your ear.

“We did.” You agree. 

“We just had fucking hot sex in the sky.” He sighs and his weight feels heavier against you. 

You giggle as he nuzzles into you.

"You're really beautiful, fuck..." he says, gazing at your reflections in the dull mirror.

He reaches into his pocket for your panties after you clean yourselves up.

"So are you." You kiss his scruffy cheek as he blushes.

"No. Really?"

You nod. "A beautiful disaster."

He hums into your shoulder and plants a row of smooches there to bloom into something pretty.

“Keep them. Early Christmas present.” You say. 

He kisses over your face eagerly and growling as you giggle again.

"I like that sound." Dieter says into your face.

"I like some of the sounds you make, too." You smile, kissing on his nose.

“Ladies first…” He gestures to you after a few more minutes of canoodling.

“You just want to look at my ass.” You whisper to him as you unlock the door.

“It’s like you know me so well already,” Dieter remarks, smirking.

He simply grins at you, and you’re not wrong. He remembers squeezing those cheeks as you rode on his cock and it makes him giddy at the recall.

Dieter slips back into his seat breathing out and relaxing.

You slip out of the toilet cubicle first, making sure the coast is clear, before he follows a few minutes afterwards. Taking some time to adjust his messy hair in the mirror and smirking to his own reflection.

You called him beautiful, and he can't stop his pink cheeks from pulling tight into a jaw aching beam.

“Must’ve been some fucking piss, man.” David says from the adjacent seat. 

Dieter simply grins wider. 

The plane touches down at Lynden Pindling International Airport in the Bahamas a few hours later, with a bumpy landing that rattles Dieter’s stomach to the core.

He’s slept a little, and that makes him feel worse somehow. At this point, he certainly looks like he’s been snorting drugs all night as he blinks through wretchedly dry eyes.

With his bag, he makes his way down the aisle towards the open cabin door, but lingers as he spots you in the galley.

You turn to see him, bent over as you zip up your case and he’s staring at your ass smirking, knowing that your panties are still bunched up in his pocket. 

“So…” He says, sunglasses back on and fumbling around his words. 

“So.” You echo, standing upright. “Don’t be weird, Mr Bravo.” You muse and he laughs. 

“I’m not. Sorry. Sorry.”

After a few, heavy lingering moments you speak first. “I guess this is goodbye, then?” You say. 

“I guess.” Dieter says, with a frown brewing, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and pouts.

“Listen, this is dumb and I’m expecting you to say no, but I have a two day layover before I have to fly back and I’m staying at-”

“Yes!” Dieter interrupts.

You baulk.

“I mean, carry on.” He says, smiling. 

You laugh. “I was going to suggest maybe you’d wanna buy me dinner?”

“Well, we can start with dinner. And more sex.” You clarify. 

“Sure. I’d like that.” Dieter nods, smiling. “I’d kinda do anything for you right now.” He mumbles bashfully. 

"Anything, huh?" You quip with a smile.

"Anything." He reiterates, nodding.

“Fuck. Yeah. Definitely more sex.” He nods like his neck is broken and can’t stop. 

He walks down the steps off the plane after you, and Dieter spots another Christmas tree twinkling in the terminal, and thinks that this might be a good fucking Christmas after all. 

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo the bubble #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #christmas stories #jett's writing

[bananadrinkxxx]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞 (3)

[Aemond Targaryen x female Lucerys Velaryon • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, fights, harassment, angst, smut, domination, violence, targcest (uncle/niece)]

Only for 18+

[description: Boarding School - Modern Setting. Lucerya avoided her uncle for years but Aemond remembers and he is on his mission to make her life a living hell.]

Masterlist for all available parts (click here)

Baela raised an eyebrow as she looked at Lucy. "Hmmmm..."

Lucy rolled her eyes in annoyance. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Baela."

"Lucy?"

"Rhaena!," her cousin called out as she entered the room. Slush ice cream in hand, she plopped down on Lucy's bed and eyed the two girls curiously. "Is this a new game?"

"Apparently so, except your sister won't tell me what it's about," Lucy said reproachfully, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

"Presumably it's about your outfit."

"What about my outfit?"

"Hmmm..."

"Rhaena!"

Rhaena laughed and Baela couldn't help laughing either. "Sorry, Lucy. If you go to the party like that, I'm sure half of you will get you a ticket to church as a birthday present."

"You don't need tickets to get into church."

"You know what I mean."

Lucy looked down at herself, then in the mirror. She was wearing long denim pants and a red sweater. Her hair was up. What was wrong with that?

"Have you ever been to a party?" asked Rhaena curiously, sipping her slush ice cream. 

"Of course."

Of course not.

She had never been particularly interested in going to parties. But maybe that was because she didn't have very many friends. She preferred to enjoy a night with pizza and Netflix or a good book. She was not a very extroverted person.

"Hmmm..."

"If one of you utters another 'Hmmm', I'll be forced to hurt you."

The threat worked and Rhaena went rolling her eyes to her closet, rummaging through it until she seemed to find something she liked. She tossed Lucy a top, which she caught in irritation. 

"Here wear something.... new."

"I don't need anything 'new'," She made quotation marks with her fingers. "I have a closet full of clothes."

"I've seen your clothes. Believe me, you need this."

Well, maybe they were right after all, because Hugh Hammer couldn't take his eyes off her. Most likely it was because of her charming charisma.

Or because she looked like a clown because Rhaena and Baela wanted to test their make-up skills on her. 

But Lucy preferred to believe in the version with charisma.

Inevitably, her grandmother's favorite choice of words came to mind. 

Alicent had always called it a strong presence.

By now, she had understood the message behind it.

If the joke were not at her expense she would even laugh about it.

"You look very lovely, Lucy." Hugh winked. He was cute. Lucy hoped he didn't see how red she was blushing.

When Rhaena had given her the dress after rejecting almost everything from her closet, she had briefly considered just staying in her room. The dress was tight against her body and drew every non-existent curve of her body. She thanked him and stroked through her open hair, which went over her chest. Rhaena had curled her tips slightly. 

Lucy looked around.

'Dragonpit Party' they call it.

It almost seemed like an arena. Dragonpit was said to be over a thousand years old and the shape was similar to that of a dragon. 

Basically, it was just an incomprehensible collection of stones that ended in a cave.

"Nice, right? The first time I saw 'Dragonpit' I was shocked," Hugh explained when he saw her amazement. "Want something to drink?"

Lucy asked him for a beer. "Your wish is my command." He made a bow and left to fulfill her wish.

Finally someone who gave her the princess treatment she deserved.

She looked around. It felt like the whole school was here. She saw many people from her year, but other years were also represented. Everyone was here.

"Hey, lucky lucy," and to her dismay, also her Uncle Aegon.

He had given her the nickname when she accidentally set fire to her mother's kitchen. She had always been fascinated by fire.

Since then she was 'lucky lucy', because bad luck seemed to follow her. It was shortly after she had freed Aemond from his eye.

"You finally look like a lady."

She knew exactly what Aegon was alluding to and she screwed up her face.

The guy had invented the word 'perversity'.

"Bye, Aegon," she turned around, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. 

"What, no hug for your favorite uncle?"

"You're not my favorite uncle."

"You're breaking my heart."

"If you had one."

"Double attack, my poor heart," he groaned in mock disappointment, clutching his chest, "Yet you're my favorite niece."

"I'm your only niece."

"That's why it's even more special."

"What do you want Aegon?" asked Lucy annoyed as she grew tired of Aegon's games. Where the hell was Hugh? Had he drank her beer on the way and was about to go back for more?

"Why do you always think I want something?"

"Because you do," she said, annoyed, bracing her hand on her hip. "So?"

"Who are you here with?"

"Hugh?"

"Who?"

"He was in your year before teachers finally understand that you are not the brightest candle on the cake? By the way how did you manage that? Do you only use your head to cut hair?"

"Cute. Almost as cute as the fact that Hugh and Aemond, hate each other."

"And?"

"Do you think Aemond will be pleased?"

"About what?"

"That you're here with him?"

"I don't care."

"Really?"

"Yeah?"

"Really really?"

"Aegon, I'm about to punch you in the face."

Aegon rolled with his eyes. Sometimes Lucy wished it had been Aegon and not Aemond whom she had taken an eye. "They fucking hate each other. Hugh and Aemond can't stand each other and haven't since day one. Enemies without chance to be Frenemies." Lucy was sure Aegon thought he was super funny. "He's probably only going out with you to annoy Aemond."

"And?"

Aegon raised an eyebrow. "I notice right now you really don't know my brother a single bit." 

"Well, I don't care for Aemond."

"Oh, very good to know, then I'm sure you don't care that Aemond has forbidden anyone to talk to you."

Aegon laughed and turned around, well at least he wanted to, because Lucy grabbed him and pulled him back. "What did you say?"

He was joking. He had to make jokes. 

"No one here will come for your sweet heart, Lucy. That Hugh doesn't care was obvious to me, but didn't you wonder why every boy here ignores you?"

In fact, she had noticed that boys quickly disappeared when she came, but Lucy hadn't measured it with much importance. Boys were crazy. 

She had never been popular with boys.

In elementary school she had been bullied because she wore braces, and after that she had been to an all-girls school that rarely allowed male visitation other than her own family.

Her experience with men was limited. Almost zero.

"You're lying," Lucy judged, pressing her lips together.

"Maybe, maybe not, but you'll find out soon enough if I'm lying to you, which I would never dare to do, by the way, or if I'm being honest with you. Not even Jacaerys told you, hmm?"

Aegon patted her on the head and left her with a wink. He enjoyed this situation too much. 

This could only be a joke. 

She looked around. She searched for glances from the boys, but as soon as she met the eyes of a male individual, he turned or looked away.

Aegon was fucking right. 

Anger gripped her.

She would kill Aemond Targaryen.

"How dare you?"

Aemond looked at Lucy with a raised eyebrow as she stomped furiously toward him, pushing aside an innocent boy who looked at her as if she had been drinking gasoline. But she had a mission and no one was going to stand in her way when she was about to kill her uncle. 

"Dare what?" 

He sounded almost bored.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Lucy pressed out angrily, clenching her hands into fists.

He sat unconcernedly in front of her, the self-proclaimed queen of the school, Alys Rivers, on his lap, condescendingly surveying her from top to bottom.

"I don't know, but feel free to explain."

Lucy snorted. "You can't play me like I'm a pawn. I know you know exactly what this is about. Do I have to spell it out, or does your brain work without help?"

"So it's true what they say about her," Alys whispered to her friend, who giggled, but Lucy had understood her perfectly. Alys hadn't made much of an effort to speak softly. 

"What do they say about me?" Lucy would have been a much more mature person if she didn't respond to her provocation.

But she wanted to see heads roll.

"Hmm, this and that." Alys laughed. Lucy wanted to set the woman on fire. 

"Well, then take this and that and stick it up in your ass," Lucy said, giving Alys the middle finger. Then she raised her second middle finger and presented it to Aemond, who looked at her mockingly. 

"How obnoxious," laughed Aemond. He stood up and pushed Alys off his lap, who looked at him indignantly. He stood directly in front of Lucy, who tried to meet his gaze.

Now just don't show any weakness. She ignored the feeling of running away and lifted her chin to look taller.

Not that it did any good with Aemond's superior height. 

"Your manners are deficient, dear niece."

Lucy snorted. "My manner is suited to your wickedness."

"I can't help it when there is no boy who is interested in you," Aemond said, brushing a strand of hair from Lucy's face. "I guess you're just too ugly. I guess your dad's genes were too strong."

Lucy had no idea what demon was possessing her, but she didn't care. She took the beer from Aemond's hand and shook the contents in his face.

Those present drew in their breath in shock, and no one dared speak another word. 

Aemond had his eye closed while the beer dripped from his face and hair. 

Lucy's heart quivered and the anger in her body made her tremble.

For a brief moment Lucy felt satisfied, superior, at least until Aemond opened his eye.

His gaze was cold. Almost murderous.

"You shouldn't have done that," he spoke softly and before Lucy knew what was happening, he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder like a wet sack.

"What the hell," Lucy screamed, stunned, trying to break free, but Aemond's grip was hard and unyielding. "Put me down right now, you asshole!"

Aemond didn't care about her words and neither did those present who watched as Aemond dragged her into the woods.

Okay, now he was really going to kill her. 

But she would not go down without a fight.

Before that, she would take his second eye.

Once in the forest, Aemond suddenly let go of her and Lucy fell to the ground, groaning.

"Oh, now we're showing our true colors, huh? Enough with the facade, I guess."

Lucy jumped up as quickly as she could.

"No facade, Aemond. You are an ass, and I just can't spend my whole life apologizing to you."

Aemond laughed bitterly and came closer. Too close. 

"No you can't? But I can spend mine without my eye?" 

Lucy winced. Damn it. She hadn't wanted this after all. The only thing she'd wanted was to protect Jacaerys.

"Fuck, Aemond, I am sorry, okay? But this is no reason to make my life a fucking hell. Why are y-"

“You’re sorry? Really? You took my eye, and you dare to say you’re fucking sorry?," Aemond snapped.“You don’t sound sorry.” Aemond jumped forward, crowding Lucy against a tree. 

She was beginning to think that was their thing. Him pushing her against something. 

"What are you doing? Stop it!"

"Why? Do you feel helpless?" 

"You can't-"

"I can't what?" interrupted Aemond, looking down at her. "I can do anything. I own this school and you owe me something."

"That's not right," Lucy breathed, trying to pull away from him, but Aemond wouldn't let go.

“Are you going to start preaching about morality? I thought we were over this and you accept the truth.”

"What fucking truth?"

"That you liked it. That feeling. Being powerful."

"I have no idea what you talking about."

“Careful,” Aemond hissed. “I don't like liars."

"I am no liar." She believed in what she was saying, and yet there was this little voice in her head telling her otherwise.

Aemond tsks. His hand darted out and grabbed her throat. His index finger stroked her carotid artery. Did he feel how strongly her heart was beating?

Lucy swallowed. 

“You have beautiful eyes, little Lucy," he whispered. "You think I won’t do it?” Aemond continues. “Taking what is mine?” With his other hand he stroked her lips, almost scratching.

"Stop it, Aemond." His grip around her neck became stronger and Lucy got less air with every second.

"Maybe I can't take your eye right now, but don't think, that I'm going to be gentle with you. I always win in the end. I take what's owed to me."

He pressed himself against her, his upper body against hers. She had never stood so close to a boy before.

“You scare me,” is all that came out of Lucy's mouth. She stood there frozen. For the first time, she was really afraid of Aemond. 

Aemond's gaze was penetrating. She had no idea what he was thinking. He watched her, surveyed her face, and for a moment Lucy thought he had changed his mind. That he would take her eye.

But then he suddenly let go of her and moved away from her.

"Good."

With these words, Aemond turned and left her behind. Lucy looked after him, trembling, and slid down the tree. She felt the tears want to spill over and for the first time she allowed herself to show weakness. 

Being here was hell.

Aemond would make her life unbearable.

He would not leave her in peace for a second.

"Lucy?," she suddenly heard a voice beside her and she looked up, startled. Hugh was standing in front of her, looking down at her anxiously.

"What happened? Where is Aemond? I heard he dragged you out here."

Lucy wanted to say something, to calm the situation, but no words passed her lips and she shook her head.

"Did he hurt you ? What did that asshole do?"

Anger entered Hugh's eyes and before Lucy could say anything, Hugh turned and ran towards 'Dragonpit'. "I'm gonna kill that motherfucker."

"Hugh! No wait," Lucy screamed in panic, stumbling over her own feet as she jumped up and tried to catch up with him. 

But Hugh was faster and before she reached him he had gotten to Aemond, who looked at Hugh in surprise before he had the latter's fist in his face.

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[randomnameless]

I think the writers didn't write set in stone rules for Crest so they could have a more varried experience for the cast and all but some of them just... makes me ask question. Like why is there so many in Empire people who have several crest, not only all of Mercedes and Jeritza's half siblings, but also Edelgard and Lysithea yet in other country they don't and it's not all people of the Empire because Caspar doesn't have one and Hanneman's sister doesn't have one...and then you learn that they experimented on Lysithea first when she is 2 years younger then Edelgard who was 14 when she was experimented upon by the Agarthans... just... what the heck is this game ?

Jugdral too apparently didn't have rules for Holy Blood inheritence!

But... the games aren't all gung-ho about blaming Holy Blood for everything wrong in this verse...

Granted, iirc, do we know if the Emile and Mercie's step siblings had crests? I thought their step father wanted to shag Mama Martitz to get crested more kids - bar Emile who was already a crested Bartels !

Also, Hanneman's sister had one, that's why she died when her hubby tried to re-roll many times to get a crested heir?

That's partly why I'm curious about Adrestia, because we know there are crested nobles/people who are either fit to be pawned off as wedding prizes, or they just... exist, and no one gaf about them.

There's a heavy dose of sexism in how the Empire deals with this issue, but tbh, I wouldn't say it's specifically a "crested" issue, but more one where... Adrestian's society sucks, because some people try to become "more powerful" by any means necessary, let it be alliances where they offer their daughters, getting "high valued" babies or just, getting rid of people because they can (house martitz, house nuvelle, etc etc).

Monica was adopted by Baron Ochs, but she wasn't offered to a potential husband who started to work on his legacy to get a trillion crested heirs.

Bergliez was retconned in Nopes to have a Cichol Crest, even if all of Caspar's supports in FE16 treated him as a "non important" member of the House not because he was crestless, but because he was a second son...

But in general, yep, at least in backstory, Adrestia has a lot of unnamed randoms with crests (which is represented in Nopes, some generics have crests!) and yet they're randoms and not the ones calling the shots, almost as if having a crest, or not having one, isn't as important as being born male to the right family.

(and I will die on this HC-hill, Adrestia must have a least 3 different branches of the Hresvelg House, meaning at least a dozen of legitimate randos with a Crest of Seiros, Supreme Leader must have had some cousins too, and we're not even talking about bastard children!)

#anon #replies #contrary to what ionius thinks #leicester isn't part of adrestia #Lys is from Ordelia localted in Leicester #crust system nonsense #this issue everyone is blaming is less of an issue but more something like #horrible people will take everything as an excuse to be horrible #no crust mean you suck? But even with crust you suck so #Adrestia stuff #the pre Supreme Leader state or Ionius' Adrestia really was a bleak place #and we don't know what Supreme Leader did during her tenure bar starting a war and letting Uncle run internal affairs in FE16 #I don't want WoH Adrestia to be perfect or a paradise #but at least i doubt it was a sucky as it is in the present #tfw wolf planned some reforms but 'was died' before the 7th year of his reign

[lunarrosette]

Survey Results Finally!!!

Ok! So before the whole breakdown I wanna address a couple biases and shit. So I posted this on tumblr and on a couple dndads discord servers I'm in, notably the patreon server, both of these almost definitely caused some bias in stats particularly in patreon subscription and most used social media to engage with. That said it could have been posted elsewhere (which I’m totally fine with and actively encourage the bigger and more diverse the sample is the better) but I only posted there because I wanted to minimize potential non-fans taking it and I don’t have a twitter. I also added the question of whether you have relistened and your race, ethnicity, and nationality later (as it was suggested and i thought it was a good addition) so the sample is not the full amount of people who took this survey and is smaller than other question therefore less conclusive of the dndads fanbase as a whole.

I got a total of 142 responses (and the survey is still open) so let break down all that

There were 65 questions in total, while I’m not going to break down every single one I will break down most of them

Majority listen on spotify with patreon coming in a close second, the small individual answers are a mix of a combination of two or more platforms or platforms i forgot to add/didn’t know existed

A little over half of the fandom is apart of the patreon but still remember that there is a bias in this question because of where i sent the survey

Majority of the patreon is subscribed to the EX-L level (like me!!) with EX in a pretty close second (other is apart of EX because i forgot what is was call when I first made it)

Ron comes in a very close 1st between him and henry for favorite season 1 dad

Grant takes 1st in another pretty close one between him and terry for season 1 son and surprisingly Nick Foster actually got votes! (/j)

Scam likely with quite the lead as a fan favorite NPC

Now favorite episode was one I had to track separately because I set it as a free response but her are the top 4 favorites:

In 4th with 13 votes Episode 42 Henry’s Father and the Chamber of Secrets In 3rd with 16 votes Episode 56 S.W.A.P. (SWitched Ass Papas) In 2nd with 17 votes Episode 44 Deck Picks In 1st with 23 votes Episode 61 Death of a Salesman

Normal with fan favorite season 2 PC with almost half of the fandom

Terry Jr (surprising to me I love him but ig it's the silent majority cause i never see much about him) is first place

Very unsurprisingly hermie the unworthy for 1st place, bitches love this gay theatre kid but it is a little surprising the amount of a lead he has

Another one I had to by hand but the top 4 favorite season 2 episodes are

In 4th place with 5 votes, a 4 way tie between: Episode 22 Army of Tree, Episode 4 Barf Bum Movie Men, Episode 12 Scary Movie 2, and Episode 9 Debate Me Cowards

In 3rd place with 6 votes, Episode 5 Dance Dance Revelations (surprising to me as it’s not the part of the dance with Lark and Sparrow and Normal’s crisis)

In 2nd place with 8 votes, Episode 11 That thing? You Dude

Unsurprisingly in 1st place, the episode that I’ve heard some people say is one of the best episodes of Dungeons and Daddies, with 50 votes, Episode 23 Alright

Ron takes overall favorite

Hermie surpasses (one of) his father for favorite NPC

Jodie wins as the guest PC, which kinda surprises me

Oakworthy wins as the most popular ship, most of the thin slices are variations of “I don’t ship” and some less talked about ships

The majority of fans don't have a preference between season 1 or 2

At the Mountains of Dadness is the most popular piece of bonus content

The majority of the fandom have relistened to the podcast

The subject of Jodie, almost everyone liked how Jimmy played him but the views on his character are a little different. Many poll takers said he grew on them and the majority of the fandom seems to feel neutral to positive to him. A lot of people said he was a good narrative foil to Glenn (I agree!!) and that he’s “funny as fuck” (i also agree) however some people also voiced dislike him do to messing up the timeline, being a cop, messing up Nick’s character, and just the plotline he was apart of. Lots of ACAB in the responses.

Lots of funny responses on this one:

Asexual bitches and queer bitches love dungeons and daddies (I'm an asexual bitch myself) there was a whole one (1) fully cis het allo survey taker.

The fanbase skews pretty heavily to the younger side with the majority of the fandom being 18-25 and a huge majority if you just look at it as 25 and under.

Non-binary bitches love dungeons and daddies (I’m a non-binary bitch as well)

Huge majority of fans are neurodivergent with most thin results being a variation of “I don’t know, somethings probably wrong up there”

Anxious bitches love dungeons and daddies (i am an anxious bitch)

Majority of people who responded are white, however this question was implemented later and only has 62 responses.

Most fans got into dungeons and daddies from word of mouth, typically from friends or mutuals online

Relationships with fathers are mixed. A decent amount say good, some say bad, but a lot can be put as complicated. A good amount of people used parallels from dungeons and daddies most often grant and darryl.

Your dads cool as fuck

Relationships with moms are also mixed, but a little more drastic(?). The positives are generally stronger but the negatives are also more negative.

Most sibling relationships are good! However there were a decent amount of responses stating the relationship was distant

Majority of fans are from america but there's a good variety from all over.

Majority of the fandom interacts through tumblr (this still is one with bias)

Majority of fans say their experience with the fandom has been very good

Majority of fans make some for of fan content

Oaks are very big on the fandoms kin lists, especially normal

Most common fandoms: NADPOD TAZ D20 TOH MCYT/Minecraft DHMIS OFMD PJO TMA

Most common past fandoms: Danganronpa Sanders Sides TMA MCYT/minecraft Homestuck TAZ Voltron FNAF Theatre Cartoons (ex. Gravity falls, infinity train, TOH, ect.) Undertale Harry potter PJO

Fave fan creators: ajaystillblue Kineticallyanywhere Braindos Nick-close Awnrii Critdeeznuts Nolassolace Cerealforkart Tortelliniboi Oddkid on Ao3 Midnigtartist SandrC Submergedmemory Koszmarnybudyn Harveydoesart Roolt Coolestclowns Blu3boi Nojaloarts Sapphicx Mrslikely Almondcroissantsandink

Popular headcanons: t4t henry and mercedes Trans nick Generally gender queer/gnc oaks Season 2 teens autistic Ron autistic Basically all the season 1 sons dated each other at one point (queer friend group moment) Taylor uses mobility aids (notably a cane) Bi ron

Specific headcanons I really like (if any of these are your feel free to reblog as to claim them) I think Samantha likes to dress very colorfully while Ron is on the plain side, except when she gifts him an accessory that is just as colorful as she is, and while it clashes w/ the rest of his wardrobe he treasures it because he loves her lots Walter owns chickens and he grows herbs around their pen as a natural pest repellent Glenn is a sex-favorable asexual The shortest one I can fit here is that Glenn has a lot of stick n poke tattoos that are all made by Morgan (which disappeared after the verdict) and lark has bpd Yeets skateboard is a prosthetic Terry is the only son to go to therapy AROACE SPARROW <333 Hermie rights in Cursive like an asswhole Jewish Terry Jr and Samantha

Cats are by far the favorite animal in the dndads fandom with 35 votes

And the top three favorite colors are Blue with 23 votes Purple with 30 votes Green with 39 votes

Most common recs The Magnus Archives TAZ NADPOD Just Roll With It Self care (hydrate, sleep, take care of yourself) Mob Psycho Bears in Trees Malevolent Dndads fanfics (on ao3) OFMD WWDITS Will wood Ride the cyclone The Crane Wives

Oddly specific recs

#Dungeons and Dragons #dungeons and daddies #dndads #fandom #henry oak #lark oak garcia #nick close #survey results #theyre final out bitches #to the one person who said the open answers would be a bitch to organize #yeah... #they were #but its done for now #poll is still open tho #lunarrosette’s shit

[deannagrey]

A Mendell Christmas: Part One

A little Christmas short for the holiday season! This occurs toward the end of Team Players, before Aderyn (spoiler alert for Team Players ending!) reveals she's leaving Mendell. (please excuse any errors, I'm not the best editor lol)

Naomi 

“Naomi?” A soft, rhythmic knock at the door called for my attention. “It’s me.”

I tugged off my headphones and glanced at the clock. I’d been so knee-deep into online Christmas shopping I didn’t realize the time. 

"You ready?" Lincoln was out of breath — undoubtedly from taking the stairs two by two because he couldn’t stand the time it took to climb them. 

I smiled at him. His eyes were bright and full of infectious excitement. He bounced on the balls of his feet like he was ready to take action at a moment’s notice. 

“For what?” I couldn't help but tease.

“Naomi.” His shoulders sagged and his smile tapered off into near non-existence. “They’re all downstairs right now and in the worst mood ever. We have a job to do and you’re going to tell me you forgot?” 

I laughed and got up from my desk to reveal the bottom half of my outfit. Relief smoothed Lincoln’s brow. He chuckled at the spin I did to make my green, tree skirt light up. His bouncing was back. 

“You really thought I forgot?” I tugged off my sweatshirt to reveal the ugliest Christmas t-shirt I could find at the local thrift shop. It had reindeer patches, a multitude of Santa Clauses, and enough colorful candy cane to make one feel cross-eyed.

“You’re just so good at bluffing, Sunshine,” Lincoln said and pulled out two Santa hats from his bag. Both were green and trimmed with gold fabric. My name was embroidered in black thread on one. 

I gasped and stood still as he placed it on my head carefully as if it were a crown.

“There, now you’re all set,” he said. 

“This is so cute! Where did you get it? Wait…do you know how to sew?” 

“No, I wish. I just know people who know people who know how to sew.” He nodded in approval at how the hat looked on me and then, placed his own on. “I got one made for all of us. I wanted it to be perfect. A holiday to remember despite…well, you know.” 

Lincoln had been planning this for weeks. And as his partner in crime (or elf in crime depending on the level of Christmas spirit), I was committed to helping him. 

“It will be perfect,” I promised while adjusting my hat. “They’re going to cheer up and we’re going to make this a time to remember. They’ll be so holly and jolly we’ll probably get sick of them.”

Lincoln laughed. “God, imagine.” 

“Anything is possible this time of year,” I said even though seeing Sam, Henrik, and especially Finn more excited than Lincoln and I would be a sight to behold. 

“Are we all set?” I grabbed my phone, ready to record reactions for the eventual short film Lincoln wanted to put together. He was going to call it “Our First Christmas.” When I asked if they’d spent holidays together before he said, of course. 

“Why first then?” I’d wondered. 

“Because you’re here and now, our family’s bigger. It’s our first Christmas together,” he’d said so casually like it was simple and my inclusion vital. I’d cried that day and Finn almost got into it with Lincoln until he realized it was good tears. 

“Almost set,” Lincoln answered me. “Just one more thing…”

He tossed a garland around my neck. I snorted but didn’t protest. 

“Now you’re perfect!” He grinned. “Remember your cues?” 

I rolled my eyes, good-naturedly. “Of course I remember my cues. I’m a professional.”  

“That’s what I like to hear.” He started out the room and I followed with an equal amount of pep in my step. 

Lincoln had big plans for his Secret Santa event – something of which I didn't originally think needed much of any planning. But in any event Lincoln put together, he committed ten times the necessary energy and focus. And I was lucky enough to also be his second. We wreaked havoc on our household with our combined forces. The guys feigned fear of our events, pretending they hated being roped into the fun. It was a farce they kept up even now as I marched into the living room. 

"Uh oh," Henrik teased from his spot on the couch. He closed the book he was reading, using his index finger as a temporary bookmark. 

Sam was lying on the loveseat with his legs hanging over the edge of the armrest and a glassed gaze on the ceiling. My heart tugged at the small smile he flashed in my direction. He'd been in a dark place after his relationship with Aderyn had been left in a state of limbo. I couldn't get much out of him but Finn relayed some of his fear. Sam was a large chunk of the reason why Lincoln wanted to go so hard this holiday season. The guys didn't usually exchange gifts but retail therapy was something Lincoln thought could cheer everyone up. 

"What's this?" Finn was in the kitchen, loading the last bit of dishes into the dishwasher. He smiled when I twirled once for him to admire the lights on my skirt. I’d been sworn to secrecy about Lincoln’s plans but that didn’t keep me from at least showing my boyfriend the outfit earlier. 

Finn loved a lot of things about my skirt…mainly how it clung to my waist and provided easy access for him to do what he wanted. My cheeks burned when I remembered how long we’d spent in our room this morning. How long he insisted on being underneath me. 

Finn flashed me a knowing smile before finishing up the dishes. 

“Uh…” I cleared my throat, trying to get back on track. 

“The lights,” Lincoln whispered from the staircase. He tried to keep out of view, readying for his big entrance. “If I may have your attention and then, the lights.”

Sam laughed at Lincoln’s obvious coaching. Score. It wasn’t his carefree laugh but it was better than his forlorn staring. 

Henrik was polite enough to pretend like he didn’t hear Lincoln. He made a noise of wonder when I clapped and the lights went out. 

“Since when did we have that?” Sam sat up, completely intrigued. 

“Irrelevant,” Lincoln said and then whispered to me, “Tell them it’s irrelevant.” 

“I installed them last weekend,” Finn explained. 

“You rewired our living room in a weekend?” Sam asked, impressed. 

“It didn’t require rewiring,” Finn said. 

“Nowadays, sound-sensitive lights are pretty common and simple to install,” Henrik added. 

“Irrelevant,” Lincoln repeated, this time it was a plea. 

“Right!” I called in a voice louder than usual. The guys jumped and turned their attention back to me. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is our main event.” 

“What?” Sam glanced at his friends, searching for explanations. There was enough light from the sun setting outside to bleed into the living room and flood the floor with a warm red. The red painted their faces, revealing similar expressions of curiosity. 

“All I know is that she needed sound-sensitive lights.” Finn shrugged and joined Henrik on the couch. “What she needs, I get.” 

“Simple and straightforward,” Henrik said when Sam looked at him in exasperation. “Did you expect he’d be anything else?” 

Sam chuckled and sighed. “No, I guess not.” 

“Gentlemen,” I said and unlocked my phone to start the music. An instrumental version of A Holly Jolly Christmas played. “Tonight is our first annual Mystery Secret Santa.” 

“Mystery Secret Santa?” Sam asked. “That feels repetitive. Isn’t Secret Santa already a mystery?’ 

I frowned. “Okay, are you going to let me finish my introduction or not? We have a dance to get through.” 

“Oh, there’s a dance?” Sam’s face lit up. He pulled out his phone, ready to record. “Say less.” 

Henrik and Finn tried to hold in their laughter, succeeding only when I shot them silencing glares. 

“I would like to present to you this night's host,” I announced with a dramatic gesture of my arm. “Lincoln Hill.” 

Henrik set his book to the side and clapped at his friend’s entrance. His smile grew wider when he saw Lincoln’s dramatic fur-lined, red cape and the oversized carpet bag he toted.

“Good evening,” Lincoln started in a deeper voice than usual. He bowed to our audience. That was my cue to turn on the multi-colored, twinkling Christmas lights I’d lined around the living room’s entrance. 

Henrik’s clapping got louder and Finn joined in. Even Sam looked impressed, whistling at the light show as he directed his camera to them briefly. 

“Taught her that,” Finn said quietly with pride. 

I smiled at him and continued, “Mr. Hill will tell you all how our mystery will unfold.” 

“Okay, Mr. Hill,” Sam teased. “Let’s see what you got for us.” 

“In the two-story house, right off Highbury Lane, lived five very studious university students.” Lincoln walked around the living room as he spoke. With each sentence he said, I lit a candle. Warm light slowly brought life back into the house. 

“We live off of a street,” Finn mumbled. “Right?”

“We do,” Sam assured.

“Ssh.” Henrik patted Finn’s shoulder. “It’s fine.” 

“All of which,” Lincoln continued, choosing to ignore the interruption. “Had a bloody, red secret.” 

“The best kind,” I said. 

“Very,” Lincoln agreed and winked at me. “Each secret was written down and hidden to quell their guilt. Due to sacred law, that secret was to be revealed once a year. And during that time, they were cursed to read a fellow housemate's secret. Once the secret was shared, they would temporarily be free of guilt during the holidays. Free to be merry and bright.”  

“That’s kind of sad when you think about it,” Finn mused. 

“It is.” Henrik hummed in agreement. 

“Okay, guys, it’s not supposed to be sad,” Lincoln quickly abandoned his spooky deep voice for his normal tone. “It’s supposed to be fun lore.” 

“But we’re cursed,” Henrik teased. “How is that fun?” 

“Yeah, since when are curses fun?” Sam wondered. 

“I can’t.” Lincoln turned to me with a groan. “They’re so…them.” 

I laughed and hurried to his side to unzip the carpet bag. “It’s fine. We’ll just move on to the picking.” 

Lincoln sighed, shook out his shoulders, and resumed his narrator's voice. “One sheet for each housemate. One chance to end their guilt by confessing to their murder.” 

“You’re first.” I took the bag and hurried over to Sam. 

“The broody leader with a heart more tender and kind than he lets on,” Lincoln said. 

“Alright, cool it with the titles,” Sam grumbled and dug his hand into the bag. 

“Well?” I asked when he opened the sheet. 

“Um…I can read it aloud?” he asked. 

“Yes, it’s a mere riddle. Something only you and the murderer will connect on,” Lincoln said.

“That makes no sense,” Sam said and shrugged. “But whatever. It says, I murdered in secret. My feet made no sound. I can construct the coffin easily. My hands are skillful enough to handle the ground…What the hell?”

“Next,” I sang and moved to Finn. 

He reached into the bag with one hand and snuck his free hand to the back of my knee. I breathed easily under his warm touch as he read his riddle. 

“I murdered between jokes. Made a sound like no other. I’m an easy catch. Just remember I’m nobody's brother.”

“Can we trade?” Sam asked. “I think I know that one.” 

“No trades!” Lincoln demanded. “The bag has chosen.” 

“Your turn.” I smiled at Henrik and he returned it before retrieving his confession. 

“I murdered in daylight. I was drowning in yellow. My fingers typed fast. I felt nothing but mellow.” Henrik chuckled. “Cute. I like this one.” 

“And you.” I skipped to Lincoln and shook the bag a little. He used a hand to cover his eyes before picking. 

“I murdered with a spoon. Or maybe it was a fork? Whatever it was, it happened under the moon. Whatever it was, I didn’t do it for sport.” Lincoln breathed a sigh of relief. 

“And me,” I claimed the final sheet. “I murdered determined. I did it first. As a leader, I wasn’t afraid. As a person, I don’t fear any curse.” 

I smiled, pleased. 

“Well, there you have it,” Lincoln said. 

“No, I really don’t.” Finn frowned down at his paper. 

“You can get the help of one murderer,” I said. “But only one so choose wisely.” 

Lincoln nodded in agreement. 

“I got you,” Sam said and Finn sighed with relief. Sam whispered a name into his best friend’s ear and the guy lit up. 

“Ah, that makes a lot more sense," Finn said. 

“Are we good then?” Lincoln bounced on his feet again, already geared to start his Christmas shopping. 

“No, not yet,” Sam said and pulled his camera back up. “We’re going to need that dance you two promised us.” 

“Oh right.” I started toward the Bluetooth speaker. Lincoln caught my elbow before I could leave. 

“Nope, they don’t deserve our dance.” Lincoln shook his head. “Not unless they stop laughing and appreciate our efforts.” 

“No one’s laughing,” Sam said while…well, laughing. 

“You're such an asshole,” Lincoln said with a smile. “No dance this time. We will reveal our talents when we know they’ll be appreciated. Right, Naomi?” 

“Right, exactly.” I nodded. Finn caught my eye and something in his gaze told me I could be convinced to do a private show later. 

“That’s all we have for now, folks,” Lincoln announced. “It’s up to you to do the rest. To figure out your fellow murderer and make sure your present is the best.”

“I do love it when he rhymes,” Henrik noted. 

“And I don’t,” Sam joked. “But this is entertaining so I’ll allow it.” 

“Come on,” Lincoln said. “Get off your butts and start looking for gifts. You’ve got twenty days until Christmas Eve. Let’s make every one of them count.” 

#mendellhawksseries

[obsidiancreates]

Why Bounce Around To The Same Damn Song (Part 1)

(Another Henry Revealed As Asshole fic but Real Psychic Shawn flavored this time)

“Whoa, dude, stop here.”

“What?! Shawn, the Arby’s closes in like, fifteen minutes!”

“What? Since when does Arby’s close in the middle of the day?”

“I don’t know!”

“Just- pull over, man. I’m getting a vibe.”

Gus pulls The Blueberry over, parking in front of a set of small, run-down shops under apartment buildings. He peers around Shawn’s head and reads the sign. Miss Ivana’s Nirvana. “A psychic shop?”

“Yeah.” Shawn tries to look through the curtains of the window. “I feel like I should go in there, man.”

“You’re already psychic, why would you need a reading?”

“I’m not… sure.” Shawn tilts his head, squinting. He’s still not great with figuring out what the feelings-only parts of his abilities are. They’re a lot more complicated than picking out details in a shaky vision, or catching hidden meanings in words, or even catching snippets of another person’s thoughts- which he’s also not great at, yet, but he’s good enough to know Jules is just being nice when she says Buzz’s wife’s homemade tapioca is good. He didn’t know someone could gag so intensely in their mind without it showing on their face.

The feelings-only are different. It’s like when his ADHD acts up and makes him forget why he entered a room, or where he put something he was just holding, or the thing Gus told him was really important to remember before talking to someone he probably shouldn’t be talking to. He knows something is just there, just out of reach of his comprehension, and it’s almost like a physical, tangible blockage that he could potentially push away but he just can’t quite get the right footing.

“Maybe she’s a fraud who needs exposing? You still can’t talk to ghosts, right?”

“Still not even sure if they exist, Gus. All those websites you send me say different things. Plus, I think if spirits really existed and could demand revenge on their behalf there’d be a lot less white people in the world.”

Gus nods. “Alright, but make it fast, or I’m leaving you here.”

“Fast. Got it.”

Shawn steps out of the car and opens the shop door. It’s dimly lit, cluttered, and there’s a section with big velvet curtains and a table covered in classic fortune-telling props. The air smells like incense and sage, making him cough a little.

“Welcome to my Nirvana,” a young blond woman says in a thick non-specific Eastern European accent, sweeping otherwise soundlessly out from behind a shelf cluttered with crystals. “You are looking for something.”

“Yeah. Your real accent.” Shawn angles his head at her with a disappointed look. 

She straightens up, her incredibly numerous amounts of jewelry clanking together like she’s a windchime. “How’d you do that?”

He brings a hand up to his head. “I’m a psychic detective. You can take your pick on which of those told me the accent was fake.”

It was the psychic part.

“So… what? Are you scoping out the competition?” She crosses her arms. “Because I am not packing up shop. This is the first time I’ve made a steady living from this, you know.”

“Look, honestly I don’t know what I’m doing here either. I got a psychic vibe while driving by and now my buddy is about to abandon me so he can go get at least five meat-piled sandwiches for half off, and I can’t even blame him!” Shawn looks around. “It’s not like I don’t have crystals like these, or tried this uh… burning stuff.”

“Incense.” Ivana raises an eyebrow. “What, are you new to being psychic?”

“No! … Maybe. Are you?”

“I’ve had the gift as long as I can remember.” She sits down at the table. “Now are you gonna buy anything, or are you just going to stand there making my shop smell like Axe deodorant?”

“For your information, it’s Axe body spray. And you call yourself psychic.” He scoffs. But that twists something in his gut, his voicing doubt. It feels… bad. 

“You’re the one using his hand to convince me you can hear the spirits.” 

“So there are spirits.”

“Duh? Did you come in here just to learn how to fake it better?”

“Do you think I’m faking?”

“Maybe.”

“No you don’t.”

“If I think you’re real then you should know I am too.”

“... Fair.” Shawn looks out the door to see Gus literally pulling away. “Wh- Gus!”

“I saw that coming.”

“And you didn’t warn me, wh- I was looking forward to those sandwiches! Man… so much for helping a fellow psychic out.”

“You’re like, ten years older than me. You should’ve been able to see it.”

“Okay first of all, there’s no way I’m ten years older than you. Second of all, I… am working on the future-seeing thing, still.”

Ivana leans forward, resting her elbows heavily on her table. “You have a very bright presence, for being so annoying and childish.”

“Thank you. It’s because my hair is a blessing.”

“No… it’s because you carry the gratitude of many.” Her eyes trail over Shawn, unfocused and glassy. “Why’re you here?”

Shawn steps back. That look is really unnerving. He hopes he doesn’t look like that when he’s analyzing people. “Because my partner just drove off without me, and I don’t want to walk anywhere.”

Ivana rolls her eyes. “Come here. I’m going to do a tarot reading for you.”

“Uhhh, no. No, I don’t do that stuff.”

“You’re a psychic who doesn’t do tarot?”

“No, I do not! Or crystal balls, unless I think the client will pay extra for that. Then I have five.”

“Sit down and pick a card.” She says it so forcefully that Shawn just obeys- because a psychic pull told him too, and definitely not because he was intimidated by for a second. Not at all. He goes to pick one- and finds himself picking three, leaving them face-down, knowing how this is meant to go even though he’s never done this before.

She flips the one on Shawn’s left over first. “Do you know the meanings?”

Shawn actually thinks he does. He doesn’t want to. “Uh, no.”

“So that’s why you’re here. You’re denying something that the spirits wish you weren’t. This is The Emperor, reversed. Someone in authority, abusing that authority.”

“No, I don’t think so. The Chief is actually very lenient with us.” He knows it’s not talking about The Chief. Or Lassie. Or even the Psych office landlord who keeps trying to raise their rent before Shawn reminds him that more than half his properties aren’t up to code and Shawn can prove it if he has to.

“This card is showing us something from the past, something already done. What was. The next to are what to do, and what to avoid.” Ivana flips over the middle card. “The Three of Cups.”

“That one’s not so bad.” He sees images of him and Gus getting tacos together, him bringing Jules a smoothie, him breaking into Lassie’s house to restock the man’s peanut butter because he always forgets to and Shawn wants a reliable store of PB in every house he regularly infiltrates, dammit. “It’s uh, quality time, right? With people I care about.”

It doesn’t escape his notice that someone is missing from those visions.

“Now I’m starting to believe you.” Ivana flips the last one over. “The Six of Swords, reversed.”

Shawn laughs, even as something twists in his gut and squeezes in his chest. “That one’s a mistake.”

“It’s advice. You’re being warned not to leave something big in your life unresolved.”

“Yeah, I got that. But uh, it’d sort of ruin… everything, so I think I’m going to leave now.” He gets up. “And I’m-I’m sure yours and the… spirits, intentions are good, but there’s no way in hell I’m following that advice.”

Ivana looks at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“For once, yes.” Shawn turns, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking to the door. He freezes just before opening it, sucking in a sharp breath as his hands fly to his head.

Gus is ten years old, listening to Shawn complain about something Henry did. Gus is nodding, listening, but Shawn hears him think ‘There’s no way it’s that bad.’

Mrs. Guster stands in the doorway, talking to Henry, while five-year-old Shawn and Gus play in the living room. “Now I’ve heard around town about your… unusual way of raising your son, and I want your word right now that you’ll leave mine out of that sort of thing, because if my Burton comes home and tells me that you did anything he says Shawn talks about, I won’t be bringing him around here again.”

More recent, a case- their thirteen year high school reunion. Gus looks at Shawn and says “That’s easy for you to say, Shawn. No-one had any expectations you would amount to greatness.”

Shawn’s whole body feels tingly, and he has to shake himself to get feeling back into his limbs. Ivana is standing next to him, wide-eyed. “What was that?”

“Um.” Shawn looks down at his hands to make sure he’s here, really here. “I don’t-”

“Was that a vision? I’ve never had one that strong.”

“Really? I get those all the time.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah, a little.” Shawn shakes himself again. “Not totally.”

“I told you, you’re being warned. Something is blocking you from contacting the spirits who want to speak to you, I can feel it. It’s something emotional, and they’re begging you to resolve it.”

“I thought you said you don’t get strong visions.”

“I’m better at mind-reading and tarot, it’s true. But-” She moves to touch him, and Shawn pulls away. “But I can feel a very strong presence around you while standing this close. Hovering, worrying, desperate.”

“Great. That’s-that’s exactly what I want. Another looming presence in my life pushing me to do stuff.” Shawn huffs. “Awfully hypocritical of them. Can you just, tell me how to avoid that kind of thing happening to me again?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? You’re clearly a different kind of psychic than I am.”

“What, are we dogs? There’s different breeds?”

“It’s time to leave my shop.”

She shoves him out the door, literally, just as Gus pulls back up. Shawn takes a moment to compose himself, looking anywhere but The Blueberry, before getting in- or trying to.

“Dude, you didn’t leave any room for me to sit down.”

“There’s room right there.”

“I’m not some twig anymore, man, I can’t fit in a seat literally piled with sandwiches.”

“You’re the one who decided to abandon me for a talk with a fraud.”

“She’s not a fraud, Gus.” Shawn tosses all the sandwiches into the backseat, despite Gus’s whine of protest. “She’s the real deal.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I could feel it, which was super freaky. At one point I just mentioned she might be a fraud and it felt like that time I ate those expired mini-tacos from your freezer.”

“Eugh!”

“Point is… apparently I was drawn in there because spirits are real, and… I can’t talk to them. Yet.”

“So… what? They lead you somewhere you could get advice?”

“Sort of. She can’t talk directly either, but she… gave me a tarot reading.”

“I told you we needed to invest in a set.”

“Not until we find one with either all of the Thundercats on each card, or themed around Tears for Fears songs.”

“You can commission custom sets from local artists, Shawn.”

“Really? … Sounds expensive.”

“What’d your reading say, Shawn?”

“Right. That.” Shawn shifts in his seat as Gus pulls away. “I uh… so, weird part first, knew what the cards meant just by looking at them.”

“Which makes sense since you’re psychic.”

“Yeah, yeah. And uh… they were kinda about… my dad.”

Gus waits for Shawn to go on. Shawn licks his lips first, suddenly feeling very, very trapped.

“... Shawn?” Gus glances over, concern starting to seep into his expression. “What’d they say about your dad? … Is he dying?”

“No, no. Nothing that bad.” So, so bad. Henry just- gone. Forever. Shawn can’t even imagine it, and he doesn’t want to imagine it, for all he might fight with his dad. “But uh… Gus, how-how much do you remember, about the uh… training, I did, growing up?”

“What?”

“The cop stuff he made me do.”

“I don’t know. I know I thought it was kinda intense.”

“Yeah, but… what specifically? Do you remember?”

“Well… I remember the stuff when we were scouts, with the rocket and all that.”

“Right.”

“And him using a lot of stories about him and his partners to give us lessons.”

“Yeah.”

“And I guess I remember you talking a lot about him making you earn desserts and stuff.”

“... Yeah.” Shawn leans his head back against the headrest of the seat. “Do you remember the case at our reunion?”

“Of course I remember it, it almost ruined all my hard work!”

“Remember going through the yearbooks?”

“Shawn, I know you’re stalling by trying to make me piece everything together myself. What does this have to do with your dad?”

Shawn sighs, looking out the window and pressing the top of his tongue to the center of his top lip before saying, “You said no-one had any expectations of greatness for me growing up.”

“I did? … I did.” Gus’s concern melts into guilt. “But your dad did, didn’t he? I’m sorry, Shawn, in the moment I just totally forgot.”

“It’s alright, man, I-I didn’t say anything to correct you or anything. … But I guess I’m… trying to get a read on how much I need to tell you, to… I don’t know, unclog my psychic senses or whatever.”

“What?”

“... I’m supposed to open up about, Gus. The spirits want me to tell you, and Jules, and even Lassie about all the stuff from when I was a kid.”

“Wow. … Isn’t that kinda-”

“My personal hell? Yes, it is.” Shawn thumps his head against the window and watches the sidewalks, counting hats. “Which they know, apparently. So I don’t know why they’re asking me to do that. I’m kind of doing just fine without talking to any spirits, anyway.”

But you could be doing better. He’s not sure if the thought is some psychic intuition or just him knowing the truth, and frankly he doesn’t care. It is true. It’s probably always true. It’s a thought that, nine times out of ten, comes into his mind alongside the frowning image of an old man with a rough voice and disappointment just dripping from the words.

“Shawn, did your dad…”

He doesn’t need to be psychic to know where Gus’s train of thought is going. “No, not like that. He never hit me. At most he-he handled me a little rough while booking me for the car thing. But that’s why I don’t wanna do this, man, I just- I know everyone will make it a big thing and it’s… it’s not not a big thing, but it’s a big thing for me, you know? It’s not really anybody’s else's business.”

Even though the spirits disagree.

“... You should probably take some time to think about how you wanna do this, then.” Gus glances over again, Shawn can see it in the reflection in the window. “I know this kind of thing isn’t easy for you.”

“That’s an understatement,” Shawn says with a huffed and bitter chuckle. God, he hates this. These ugly, nasty feelings that bubble up whenever he thinks about it. He drowned in these feelings for years and it was the worst time in his life, and because he couldn’t get his head above the water he started trying to push the water itself below and now it just sits there waiting for him to stop pushing it-

He has to suck in a breath as the feeling of actual water in his lungs passes over him, and he reaches to slap Gus’s hands without looking away from the window. “Stop the car!”

“Wha-”

“I totally just got a vibe, man, I think someone drowned around here, recently!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re avoiding it.”

Shawn groans, tossing a crumpled paper ball at the trash can without looking. It goes right in. “Gus-”

“It’s been a month, Shawn. I know I said to take some time and think about how you’ll do it, but I know you and I know when you go from taking time to putting something off.”

“Gus, don’t be your coffee mug handle that broke when I picked it up.”

“Shawn, I’m serious. You basically got spiritually kidnapped into a creepy tarot reading specifically because you needed to talk about it, and now you’re not talking about it!”

“I have dinner with my dad in two days, Gus. I don’t really want to churn up all that stuff before I have to go help him prepare a fish or something again, I hate that enough.”

“So cancel.”

“Already tried- stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“I can totally read your mind right now, Gus, it’s like you’re literally shouting at me. Every time I talk about my dad now all your alarm bells go off, and that’s exactly what I don’t want!”

“Since when are you so protective of how people think of him?!”

“I don’t know! I just- I don’t want the three of you going around thinking he’s a monster or something all the time! Even if he kinda is. Man, you know I’m not good at figuring these kinds of complicated feelings out! Stop asking me to!”

“Not until we make some progress.”

“... Fine. Fine, I will… talk to everyone, as a group, here in the office, next week. Happy?”

“As I can be in the situation.”

“It’s not a situation.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I can do this all day, Shawn.”

“Well that is a complete waste of your time, and especially of mine!”

“Yeah, well, suck it.”

“You suck it!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jules and Lassiter are cleaning up their desks when they both get a text at the same time.

Just had a major psychic feeling, guys, come by the office ASAP. Bring good snacks. <3

“Aw.” Jules smiles as she tucks her phone into her pocket. “Carlton, did you also get-”

“Yeah, I got it.” Lassiter sighs and swings his jacket on. “I’m not stopping for any snacks.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together resting against his lips, one leg shaking up and down and making a fast taptaptaptaptap sound against the floor as he waits. Gus sits next to him on the couch, and gives Shawn a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s going to be good for you in the long run,” Gus says for the millionth time that day.

“Man, you know I’d rather have things be good for me in the short run.”

They hear the door open, and both look up as Jules and Lassiter enter the office. Jules looks immediately concerned, while Lassiter looks more annoyed than anything.

“Shawn? What’s wrong, you look nervous. Is this is about a case?”

“Not uh, not quite.” Shawn gestures for Jules and Lassiter to sit in the armchairs set up across from the couch. They do, with Lassiter rolling his eyes as he sits. Shawn is kind of grateful for the irritation- it’s more comfortable than the way Gus and Jules are looking at him. More familiar.

“What is this about, Spencer?”

“Well, I uh…” Shawn opens his mouth to continue, but he just can’t. He just… can’t.

Gus, as always, is there to put together the missing pieces and fill in the gaps. “Shawn recently had a… metaphysical revelation,” Gus says. “He’s been dabbling in new ways to hone his abilities, and he was given the advice to unblock some parts of his mind by sharing some things.”

Shawn points at Gus to confirm it.

“What, like group therapy? This is ridiculous.”

“Believe me Lassie, I’m not happy about it either.” Shawn laughs, hollow, and his leg starts shaking faster. “But uh, every time I think about not doing this, preferably ever, I get a real kick in the ass by the spirits.” Mostly visions of people defending his dad, or his dad making all those claims about how he’s not responsible for why Shawn is the way he is, and god does the reoccuring vision of his dad claiming “A good cop trusts his gut, his instincts,” make Shawn just… mad.

“Shawn… what is this about?” Jules reaches out and puts a hand on his leg, stilling it. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Maybe. … I-I don’t…” Shawn takes a deep breath. “So it’s uh… about my dad.”

Lassiter scoffs.

“You know, with him… getting involved in cases as much as he does, and uh… Gus, I-I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. I believe in you.”

“Spit it out, Spencer, after a shift I want to go home, not hang out in a fire hazard.”

“The spirits want me to tell you guys about my dad and how he raised me,” Shawn forces out. “Apparently keeping it to myself is ‘bad for me’ or something. And I uh… I don’t really know where to begin, so just… bear with me here.”

Lassiter eyes Shawn suspiciously. “Raised you how?”

“... I guess I’ll start with us, with this.” Shawn lets out a deep breath. “Lassie, you remember when my mom did your psych eval?”

“Unfortunately.”

“She told you she has an eidetic, tonal, memory.”

“How did you kn-”

“My dad, has an eidetic visual memory. I… have both.” Shawn pulls his hands apart and puts his hands to his temples and plasters on a grin that’s probably the least convincing fake smile he’s ever given. “And he knew it, real early on, before I can even remember.”

Jules gasps softly. “Oh, Shawn, but the things we see on the job-”

“It’s not that bad,” he says quickly. “Trust me Jules, I’m fine with all that. But uh, on top of that, when I was really young my mom diagnosed me as also being hyperobservant.”

Lassiter stands up and points to Shawn. “Aha! That’s it! I knew it, I knew you had some secret-”

“Lassie, sit down, I’m also genuinely psychic.”

“Yeah, right-”

“You’re excited to have caught me but you’re also thinking about how many arrests will be overturned or reexamined if you turn me in. You went to a bar on Saturday and ran into someone you liked in highschool, but h- uh, she-” Shawn glances at Jules and squints for a second, then nods. She knows, Lassie told her, good for him. “He, was already married so you went back home and looked into getting a dog for the rest of the night.”

That wipes the triumph off Lassiter’s face, and gets his ass back in the chair.

Shawn rides the high of that for just a moment before Gus clears his throat and Shawn remembers why they’re all here. He looks back down at his knees. “So uh… yes, I have a lot going on up here is what I’m trying to say.” He gestures at his head, waving his hand in a circle around his skull. “And pretty much from birth my dad figured, hey, I’ll train the kid to be the ultimate detective. The job was everything to him, and uh… he made sure it was everything to me, too.”

“That’s a pretty heavy expectation for a kid to carry,” Jules says in sympathy. “Especially with your dad having such a high-standing reputation.”

“No kidding,” Shawn laughs the same empty laugh. “So a uh… a lot, oh my childhood, was training. Stuff like uh… like even when Gus and I would play hide-and-seek, you know? He’d turn it into a lesson about how to keep a perp from seeing or hearing me if I was sneaking up on them, or-or blindfolding me, and telling me to figure out what he was doing around me just by the sounds, stuff like that.”

“Sounds fun to me,” Lassiter says.

“It was, usually. And I did really, really want to be a cop, just like him, but it was still pretty…” Shawn claps his hands back together and purses his lips, searching for the words, the feeling. “Pretty overkill, a lot of times. I mean, come on, teaching me to-to forge stuff in case I ever went undercover? I was six. I didn’t even know that kind of thing wasn’t normal until I started going over to Gus’s house. And then I started wanting to explore more things, and… started kind of… thinking about how Gus and my lives were different…”

Shawn takes another deep breath. “Like, his parents didn’t bury his Easter eggs underground and leave broken glass and a tarp over it and expect him to dig them up on his own.”

Lassiter sits up straighter, and Jules pales. Gus lets out a soft “Oh my god.”

Shawn grips his hands together. He hates this, he hates it, he doesn’t want them look at him like this, he doesn’t want them to know about this-

“Spencer, that’s a serious allegation of mistreatment and child endangerment,” Lassiter warns.

“I’m not- this isn’t a case, Lassie. I’m not trying to get my dad in trouble, and certainly not trying to get him arrested, alright? I’m just… trying to get a few things off my chest, out into the open.” Shawn clears his throat. “So, yeah. At Gus’s house he didn’t have to do that, or-or get locked in a car trunk in the afternoon to learn how to kick out a taillight, or have to hear about kids spatter brains on driveways when he brought a comic book home.”

Jules makes a sound like she might vomit. “And he knew you’d always remember all of that, perfectly?”

“... Yeah. And it uh… didn’t make me love my whole… deal.” Shawn flicks a hand up at his head again. “He never believed in psychics, so that was fine, but the other stuff… I dunno. I guess he thought it meant I just shouldn’t have been a kid or something, but I know he still thinks of me as a kid anyway.”

“Can’t always blame him.” But Lassiter’s words are as hollow as Shawn’s previous laughs, an understanding dawning in his eyes. “So he spent your life training you to be a cop, and never let you consider anything else.”

Shawn nods. “Got upset if I even mentioned it. Ever. But he also wouldn’t let me do stuff like take karate, which is weird, because I think a cop who knows martial arts seems super dope but I guess he thought a gun would be enough.”

“Did he train you in firearms too?”

“Oh, yeah. And it turns out being psychic gives you crazy good long-distance vision, which is neat, so I got really good really fast. He always freaked out when he thought I was in danger, still does, but he wanted me to be in the middle of shootouts someday at the same time. He’d have me run away from him in the middle of the woods to teach me avoidance tactics, and then lecture me for doing the same thing because I didn’t want to kill fish with him.”

Jules and Lassiter share a look, and both lean forward at the same time.

“That wasn’t okay, Shawn. Any of it,” Jules says firmly. “And if talking about this is helping you clear something up with your powers, we’ll listen to every example you’ve got.”

Shawn leans away from them a bit, mouth parting, and looks over at Gus. 

Gus is crying. Not in the full-face-scrunch whistling tea kettle way he usually does. Just quiet, horrified tears over all the things he just missed during their shared childhood.

“Hey, stop that.” Shawn shakes Gus by the shoulder. “Don’t you dare feel guilty, Gus.”

“I can’t help it,” Gus sniffles. Jules reaches behind her for Gus’s desk and passes some tissues over. “Thank you.”

“I’m not- I’m not looking for guilt or pity.” Shawn looks each one of them in the eyes. “I’m not looking for anything, just for the spirits to leave me alone about this, okay?”

“We understand,” Jules assures. “Right, Carlton?”

“Right.” Lassiter is looking at Shawn in a way Shawn isn’t used to. He tries to reach out, just a little, to get a glimpse of what Lassie is actually thinking about him right now. It’s like trying to reach for something in a dream, where your arms don’t really exist and neither does what you’re trying to grab, and focusing too hard wakes you up before you can grab it but focusing too little sweeps you back into nonsense. Shawn can’t quite get a grip.

Shawn sniffs a little, and then nods, and then nods again harder to make his whole body move with the motion. “So uh… just, telling you guys everything, then? Because that could take a while, with the whole… memory, thing.”

“As much as you need to tell us. No more, no less.” Jules offers him her hand to hold. “And Shawn, I just want to say that I’m really, really honored that you came to us with this. That you’re trusting us, even though this is hard for you.”

“Of course, I trust you guys. I’d trust you both with my life, literally. If we got body-swapped I’d be completely relaxed knowing you’re probably treating it even better than I do.”

“That’s not really a high bar, Spencer.”

“Even my hair? It’s a high bar to trust you with styling my hair, Lassie.”

Lassiter considers this, and then nods in agreement.

Shawn takes one more second, and then looks up fully. “Time to get into the details, I guess.”

And he does.

And it turns out to be a long, long night.

Everyone wishes Lassie had stopped for snacks.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Shawn wakes up the next morning, groggy and sleep deprived and feeling wrung-out like a hand towel in an industrial kitchen, he hears his grandpa’s voice.

“I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Henry Spencer walks into the SBPD the next morning, Juliet O’Hara elbows him hard in the gut as she walks by, and while Henry is still leaning against the front desk corner catching his breath Carlton Lassiter walks up and yanks him away from the desk to throw him out the door.

“What the hell-!”

“For your sake, we better not see you around this station for at least a week. Any sooner and I can’t guarantee you leaving it without O’Hara pumping you full of lead.”

“Wh-”

“I mean it, Henry. Stay out. Or else.” Henry learns what Or else entails a week later when he follows Shawn into the station and hell breaks loose.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #child abuse mention #psychfic #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic #real psychic shawn spencer