#prodigal twins

[greghatecrimes]

house: if i had a nickel for every time i had a fellow that had a strained relationship with their father, a mother that died in their childhood, purposely killed a man, was called/called themselves a "prodigal child", and is bisexual, i would have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice

#the last 40 mins of work are going SO SLOWLY #greg house #remy thirteen hadley #robert chase #something something chase and thirteen siblings something something #prodigal twins

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT, I hope you are doing well! who is your favorite Weasley?

Thank you! Absolute treat of a question. Oh, man. It's Ron, right? It was always going to be Ron.

So here's the thing: the Weasleys are a really well-characterized family in that you can kind of see a lot of character emerge through limited sketches and contextual information. Bill is Number One Boy, the best at everything, oldest child who was always confident and at peace with his indisputable place in the family; so he's a chill, cool, incredibly competent guy who naturally takes-charge. Charlie is a patented never-grew-out-of-your-middle-school-dragons-phase Weird Kid, but like, mindfully and enthusiastically so, because his parents probably still had plenty of time to support and nurture his interests; plus he's also different to Bill and excels in different ways, so they aren't too competitive (as we see). Percy is the first one to suffer from the pressure of mounting expectations, and he's very quickly followed by the twins, who do the classic "if I can't be the best I'll be the worst" late-sibling trick of acting up for attention, so he gets lost in the shuffle. (The fight between Ron and Percy in Chapter 58 is, hence, in substantially about the relationship between the two most-ignored members of the Weasley family, and that's why Ron is so much angrier at him than the rest of them. Like I've said before, Ron always thinks he's got it the worst, but he takes pride in being able to kinda "tough it out," and nothing pisses him off like other people's self-pity.) Ginny is obviously the baby of the family, a girl with everyone wrapped around her finger, and I love her, but I feel like we didn't get enough grit in her portrait— she's just really successful in everything she does, in a way that can read as flat to some people, and certainly read as flat to me my first time through the books. In fact, Ginny reminds me a lot of Bill: first daughter/first son, described often as "cool" and clever and good at basically everything, charming and generally liked by all. Which is lovely. A delight to read, just like the twins are. But my taste in characters ranges way more fucked-up and mean.

Ron is the last boy, "sixth son of a woman who wanted a daughter" (fascinating line that complicates everything we know about Molly's relationship with her kids — and BTW, how the hell does Ron know that, and how old was he when he learned it? And this also comes into play with Molly's cry of "not my daughter" to Bellatrix which like, as a moment obviously fucking rules, but also — there's a reason she says daughter, not "child," right? Do you see what I'm digging at? Anyway). Ron meets Harry and recognizes himself in how Harry defaults to thinking people don't care about him, or won't help him if he asks, because — although they come from very different circumstances, Ron's home was completely loving, just not as nurturing as he always needed it to be — Ron usually goes in assuming people don't care about him, too. So his first instinct is to go: "Alright. Well, I'll care about you, then, weird stranger. Do you want to share my horrible sandwich, and also my life, perhaps?" Goddamn! Sixth of seven in a house with never enough to go around, and he's immediately like: "fuck it, room for one more." Because he could have been Percy — and you can see it in the way that Ron is mean, sometimes, he's not careful with his words and he struggles with empathy and he's got a vengeful streak that comes out when he's pissed — but he isn't selfish enough, he loves too much and too easily, and it takes shockingly little to earn his loyalty. You just have to pay a little attention to him.

#i'm excluding arthur and molly because i assume they're off the table #and they don't get a ton of characterization in the series #they're sort of the archetypal 'Good Parent' figures who represent goodness and nurturing #which is ironic because. again. the weasley household is not perfect #and it creates significant problems for ron and by extent the golden trio when the weasley drama #spills over and starts to create actual plot problems. e.g. percy #I think it's absolutely no accident that Percy and Ron have parallel arcs in Deathly Hallows #they both run away from their family and have a prodigal-son moment #very telling about their respective characters I believe #in short. there are two kinds of Weasleys: the “number one” and the “number two” #the tragedy of number one (bill charlie ginny) is that their problems are dismissed by no. 2 because “you're good at everything!” #the tragedy of number two (percy twins ron) is that their self-doubt is being constantly & implicitly affirmed by the existence of no. 1

[silvershewolf247]

While taking quotes from Prodigal Son to make Incorrect Chucky Quotes, I came up with a concept I really like.

To those of you who haven't watched Prodigal Son. Firstly, go watch it, it's great. Secondly, the basic premise is police consultant gets help with murder investigations from his loving father, who is also a serial killer. In season 1, episode 15, the serial killer dad is having a nightmare regarding one of his past victims attacking his family. And I can't help but imagine Chucky having a similar nightmare with Andy. Chucky as like a frail old man getting beat up by his much stronger and younger adversary who threatens his family and makes him feel powerless. Anyway here's the clip of those scenes spoilers for season 1 of Prodigal Son.

#honestly #id like a chucky nightmare scene #obviously andy would never hurt the twins #but nightmares arent rational #anyways watch prodigal son #andy barclay #Youtube

[two-hands-toward-the-sun]

elvis costello had the right idea. she does indeed watch the detectives

#cbs elementary #elementary tv show #prodigal son #broadchurch #uhh what are other detective shows #twin peaks #sherlock holmes #law & order: organized crime #law & order

[multifandomgirl08]

Me Against Him - M.V. #1

Max Verstappen x Younger Verstappen Sister!Reader (Platonic), Unnamed Male Character x Younger Verstappen Sister!Reader (Romantic)

Summary: You never wanted to be on the sidelines watching your brother compete, you wanted to be out there with him fighting for a championship.

Warning(s): Dual POVs (Reader and Max), Jos Verstappen (on page), Kelly Piquet (mention). I’m warning for Kelly as a precaution to those who aren’t a fan of her, she was in the request so I’m only writing about her because of that. She will be brought up in part 2.

A/N: Taken from this Request by @fordlita. I had to work with what I felt was important vs. fitting everything that was given to me in the request. That is why it has taken so long to work on this request. Most of this is just set up for part 2, which I've already started working on. I have no plans on extending this further than that.

Words: 1.8k

→ Next Part Formula 1 Masterlist

From the moment that you started karting, you knew that it would never be easy. Being one of the few girls striving to drive in Formula 1 and get a seat. It had always been tough especially since your brother was also working for a Formula 1 seat.

Racing and competing had always come easy to Max, even when you were both karting, your father Jos had always made Max the priority. He would finish working on Max's kart first, he would give Max the more expensive parts. You would put the same time and effort into competing and somehow it was never enough.

Once you had finally made it to F1 Academy and were racing with some of the other top women in the sport things seemed to feel like they were easier for you.

In the eyes of the media, Max was still the prodigal child of Jos Verstappen, and you were just Max's youngest sister, Victoria's twin, and Sophie Kumpen's karting legacy.

You loved your mother, she was the one who encouraged you to give karting a real try, not just because of your father or Max but because you really loved it and racing had made you happy.

Over the two years that you had been in F1 Academy, you had managed to win a championship and eventually, your agent had gotten a call from McLaren to be their reserve driver. You weren’t happy with being their reserve driver. You wanted to be driving for the team. And then you finally got your opportunity.

Six weeks later you had gotten another call from your agent telling you that McLaren wanted to sign you to be their second driver for the upcoming season.

It was everything that you had worked for all your life. You had called your mom and Victoria and shared the news with them. Victoria insisted that she should fly out to celebrate but instead, you offered to fly home to Holland and spend time with her given that she had your nephew Lio a few months ago.

When you had told Max, he had been excited for you and said he couldn’t wait to see you around the paddock all the time, and Max’s girlfriend Kelly even seemed happy for you.

Your father however didn’t have much to say when he heard from Raymond that you ended up signing with the team that you did. It was like you being the first woman to gain a seat in F1 meant nothing to him.

Over the next few years, Max won championship after championship. Your father was forever proud of Max and his achievements. With each championship win, it was like the media had also started to pay more attention to Max. It went from headlines like, “Brother and sister duo Max and Y/N Verstappen take P1 and P2 in Monza” to “Max Verstappen ahead of the rest of the field”. You had read that article. Every driver got at least a good paragraph about that race in Singapore, while you got a single sentence. Y/N Verstappen, younger sister of Max Verstappen started in qualifying P9 before dropping down to P15 during the race because of gearbox issues.

You never wanted to be on the sidelines watching your brother compete, you wanted to be out there with him fighting for a championship.

When the season started again you made a promise to yourself, you weren’t going to focus on Max or your father. Focus on what’s going on on the track, and don’t worry about the rest of the grid. You could still be friendly with Lando when you needed to but it would be easier if you avoided Max altogether. You needed people to see that you were much more than just Max Verstappen's baby sister.

So after the first race of the season, you stopped going to Max and congratulating him after races. Stopped visiting him, Kelly, and P when you weren’t with your fiancé. You didn’t talk to Victoria as often and barely called your mom when things felt like they were too much. You had barely made the effort to talk to your father after his second divorce went through and only spent time with your half-sister when you needed to.

It was just easier to shut them all out. The media couldn’t say anything if there was nothing to talk about.

"This is outrageous, my sister won't talk to me," Max yelled as he stood in his mother’s living room.

Victoria was sitting on the couch while his mother was sitting in the armchair, his father looked stoic. Aside from his father, they were all concerned about Y/N, she didn’t talk to anyone unless it was for birthdays or holidays.

Max was genuinely concerned for his little sister, they had always been close, even closer than Y/N and Victoria had been growing up because while Max and Jos were off in some part of Europe for a karting race Y/N would be with them, offering to help Max without Jos around or wanting Max’s advice on the way that something in her kart wasn’t working right. What she could do to make it better for her and the type of feedback to give their father as he was working on both of their karts.

He had been so proud of Y/N when she signed her contract with McLaren, even if it wasn’t Red Bull or Mercedes. Being able to share podiums with her meant so much since they ended up in different junior categories before they both got to F1. He always wanted her to succeed.

“It's fine Max, she’ll get over it.” His father said leaning back in his chair.

He just glared at him. His father didn’t care that Y/N wasn’t talking to him, he said that it was good for her. She was finally getting podiums and had ended up getting engaged in the last few months. Jos said that it was good, she would keep driving in F1 until she was married and then end up giving up the sport when she was ready to have kids.

Max knew that it was a lie that Y/N had told Jos to shut him up. Y/N wasn’t going to retire until she knew that she had a real chance at winning a WDC, she wanted to be the first woman to accomplish that feat.

At the next race, Max walked by the McLaren garage to try to talk to Y/N but he didn't see her so he ended up looking for Lando instead. He saw him talking with some guy in a suit.

"Yeah, she's a great teammate. A little intense at times, but Max can get like that too." He heard Lando say.

"Do you know why she doesn't talk to them anymore?" He heard the suit guy ask. "From how she brings it up, it's as if they did something. We've been together a long time and I've never even met her family."

"Honestly man, I don't know. That doesn't seem like how I know Max or any of Y/N's family. Maybe talk to Max." Max saw Lando point in his direction. "He is standing, just over there."

At first, Max didn’t recognize the guy in the suit. He was taller than you for sure, and he looked a little too comfortable around the paddock to just be a fan or celebrity. As he got closer Max started to recognize him, he was the man you were engaged to. Max did wonder how you ended up engaged to a real estate broker who was from the States. It seemed so strange to him.

Max walked closer to him, pointing himself towards Lando so the men would think that he wasn't paying him any mind. He didn't want to insult his sister's fiancé, just make the other guy aware that he didn't know who he was.

"Hey, Max, right?" He heard from the guy.

Max turned towards him, looking at the man in the suit. He was a little overdressed for a Formula 1 race.

"Yes, do I know you?" It was a fair thing to ask. Max didn't know him and this guy didn't know Max.

"No, but I know your sister." He offered before stretching his hand out to Max's to shake. "We're together."

That wasn't much of an explanation. He didn't even know if Y/N had told this guy that their family knew that she was getting married but none of them had met him before.

"So you're my baby sister's fiancé." He bit out not taking this guy's hand.

Max wasn't normally rude to anyone. When he was younger, Jos would have ripped him a new one for something like this.

Max could see that the guy was shocked hearing this from him.

"Yeah, I am." He answered.

Part of Max wanted to walk away from him, the part that was angry that his sister wouldn't talk to him and had stopped confiding in him over this last year.

"I just wanted to talk to you about her." He started to say. "She's been different and as her family, I would think that you would want to keep being in her life."

Max immediately wanted to stop this guy from finishing his sentence. This guy had no idea what his relationship with his younger sister was like, and he didn't need this guy to tell him.

Max was quick to look around the room, trying to see if there were reports or cameras around. He didn't need any of those people giving opinions about his family. Luckily all of them weren't in the garage.

"I want to keep being in her life, it's hard to when she's pushed me out of it," Max said cutting him off.

This guy's shoulders instantly dropped a little. He had no idea that it was Y/N who had pulled away from her family and left them in the dark for the last year. This guy was just as clueless as he was.

"I um... I had no idea." Max looked at him and could tell that he felt awkward.

"Yes, well she hasn't been talking to quite a few people lately." Max couldn't help but fire at him. He shouldn't be angry at this guy, but he can't help it. Y/N had been the one to pull away from all of them, and Max knew that the media was to blame for all of it.

He just wanted his baby sister back in his life.

"Maybe we can help each other," His sister's fiancé suggested. "You want your sister back in your life, and I would like to see my fiancée happy again."

Max wanted to think this over. He didn't just want to agree with the guy out of nowhere but he could try to hear him out.

"You have something in mind?" He asked. The man before him nodded.

They agreed to swap numbers and would find a time and place to talk.

F1 Taglist: @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @thatsusbitch

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 imagine #mv1 imagine #f1 imagine #mv33 imagine #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader

[celaenaeiln]

Please talk more about B & D’s “unable to be defined/labeled dynamic/relationship as it encompasses many labels yet at the same time cannot be fitted to just one label” dynamic 🙏

I'd be delighted to!!

Link to original post

In the previous post I had included a panel where Bruce is referred to Dick as his "surrogate father, mentor, friend, and partner." These words could not be more different from each other and while they should not be used in conjunction with each other, they have never suited these two people more. In fact I don't there is any character pairing in any fandom that has the same dynamic that these two have. Dick and Bruce's relationship has a complicated depth to it that Bruce and the rest of his children don't have.

I think the most confusing thing is when Bruce constantly confuses Dick being a son and a partner.

First thing I want to start off with is that Dick and Bruce used to sleep in beds so close together it looks like one bed. In the 1950's this arrangement was known as the "twin beds" which were typically used for married couples. Children slept in a separate bedroom which begs the question why Dick and Bruce had a sleeping arrangement similar to that of marriage partners. This is the first weird thing about their relationship.

Not to mention, the romantic boat rides they used to take together. But was this normal then between father and son or is it just a romantic thing now, I don't know. As well as when they decided bronzing themselves naked next to each other. Not really sure what was going on there, if it was acceptable during that time or what but I do know that the reason that creators decided to send Dick to college in 1970 was because they wanted to beat the gay batman and robin allegations. It's weird as hell that they even came up with these ideas. Also the robin crossdressing. For justice, am I right?!

I feel these instances are important because it breaks any barriers they have between them. They're so (platonically for me) intimate that there's nothing but each other in their souls. One of the key reasons that their relationship is vague and intense and encompassing.

Dick is also considered Bruce's partner intellectually.

Instead of Dick listening to Bruce and following behind, as it's often shown in robin comics, they talk on equal terms. There's other moments of this shown too:

I think this is the reason why Bruce considers Dick a partner. He's not only exceedingly intelligent, but he even at a young age he's able to keep up with Bruce's thought process as an equal when even the justice league and other major adult heroes fail to do. Bruce's inventions are Dick's inventions because they played an equal role in creating them. This is why he's called the Prodigal Son.

Now onto him being a best friend and a son mix.

We know the classic example of Dick expecting to be Bruce's best man and Bruce thinking the same. But there are other moments that indicate that too.

But it isn't one sided because Dick also sees Bruce as his best friend:

Dick punching Bruce in the throat and single handedly carrying him like a sack of potatoes is just funny as hell.

Also including the fact that Dick and Bruce embody sleepover, besties behavior:

BUT HERE'S WHERE IT GETS JUICY.

Having your child act as your bestfriend is terrible for your child's mental health.

I'm speaking from personal experience but when your parent trauma dumps their life onto you at a young age, you mature emotionally much faster than you're supposed. You start becoming aware of people's thoughts and emotions at a deeper level and you start attuning yourself to others. In layman's terms: you change yourself to be able to meet your parent's high expectations and act as an emotional sponge for their anger, sorrow, disappointment, and frustration about their own life.

I'm not hesitant to admit that Dick's manipulation tactics most likely stem from this behavior. He knows what he wants and he will do anything to get it. This doesn't mean he's a bad person though. In fact I give him the highest level of respect of any character because all his intentions are good. He doesn't cheat, lie, or trick people into killing themself or harming others or bringing them down. He does it to make their lives better which is-I'm sorry, I don't have the proper words to express the multitudes of emotion I'm feeling for that.

(I nearly went into a massive monologue about how other people view his manipulation but that's for another post. )

This is also where things get complicated, and why we know Bruce and Dick as the way they are.

Dick has become so emotionally and mentally adept that he's able to pick up on others' thoughts and attitudes (Bruce specifically) before they even realize them. This is why Bruce is so dependent on Dick for everything. In one comic Garth says "Dick's a good listener."

I'm going to deviate for a minute here and include a panel that shows how this personality trait affects Dick's other roles:

Speaking more about Bruce's impact on Dick, there's this:

Aside from the huge ass painting on the wall of just the two of them-the panel is another perfect example of the complicated depth to them. They see each other as equals and when something interferes with that perception, then they start having problems. It haunts Bruce that the 8yr old he took in is equally matched to him in skill and ability but he also recognizes that Dick is too young to be able to do so. He should not have to experience the pain and responsibility of an adult but Bruce can't just get rid of him because Dick is the only one capable of keeping up with him. His heart also breaks when Dick is away (he starts crying in a panel multiple panels as Dick is leaving). For Dick he's already far used to the roles and responsibilities that he doesn't consider his age a factor as to why Bruce refuses to let him do the same things. This is a source of miscommunication between them. Bruce knows Dick can succeed at anything given to him but feels he shouldn't have to deal with those things. And Dick doesn't understand the hesitance when he's proven to have accomplished those tasks and greater before.

To expand, Dick's relationship with Bruce reminds me of Slade's relationship with Billy Wintergreen when Deathstroke tells him "You've been with me through everything...but now I have to say goodbye when you're unconscious or else I can't do it." Or something along those lines, the vibes are the same.

Oh yes, and this scene too:

Which mimics a lot of the confusion other characters have over Dick and Bruce's relationship.

But the difference between Slade and Billy vs Dick and Bruce is that Dick and Bruce's relationship is blurred on ALL fronts. There's not a single moment where Bruce has viewed Dick strictly as a son.

This leads me into the mentor aspect.

Note: while Dick knows Bruce the best, Bruce also knows Dick the best of all his children. There's a certainty to the way he speaks about Dick's abilities that he lacks when discussing his other sons'. That doesn't mean he doesn't know what they can do-he well aware and knowledgeable-it just means that his relationship with and understanding of Dick far exceeds what he has with the others.

Holy crap there's so much I'm bouncing all over the place-let me go back for second to partners.

Everyone knows this iconic scene whether you're in the fandom or not:

But few people know what comes next-

From the dawn of Batman and Robin comics, Batman has been obsessed with controlling Dick. I don't understand why he doesn't use his manipulative tactics on anyone else. There's a comic panel where Dick tells Barbara, "...you and Bruce don't need to manipulate me into doing what you guys want." It was always his way or the highway with him and Bruce reflects on this again in Batman and Robin Eternal. Dick also tells Bruce he's being pig-headed during the 1966 comic version of the Warner Brother's film and when Bruce asks him "Am I really pig-headed?" Alfred goes "hell yeah." Essentially.

(Also going to sneak this in as another example of why Dick wasn't an angry robin to a previous post

)

Ofcourse Bruce seems him as a son too:

THE FULL ON SMILE HE HAS ON HIS FACE JUST LISTENING TO DICK TALK!!!

Also in the linked previous post there's the panel of Bruce begging the judge not to take away his son from him. "Dick is like my own son!I've even changed my will so that incase of my death, Dick will get my entire fortune! You honor, I...I love that boy! Please don't take him from me!"

We already know many references about Dick being labelled Dick's son so I'll leave this aside for now.

Now here's the main point- the way Bruce and Dick interact with each other has so much history they're unable to explain themselves to others or each other. There's so many complex emotions between the two of them that sometimes even they're confused.

But seriously. What is your obsession with Dick, Bruce?

Lemme explain.

As everyone knows Dick and Clark are best friends. They are so close to the point where Bruce actually sweeps the stuff off his desk in the batcave and says "LET ME JUST GET RID OF ALL OUR TROPHIES. I'LL JUST MAKE ROOM FOR THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN AND ROBIN INSTEAD!"

WTFFFFF BRUCE. WHY ARE YOU GETTING JEALOUS OF YOUR 15YR OLD'S FRIENDSHIP?

Oh, yes, what trophies am I talking about? Trophies of their battles together of course!

Which means the batcave is memorabilia of their time together. You know what that also means? It means that Bruce sulks in the Batcave because in the cave, he can literally surround himself with the time he spent with Dick.

Bruce is so abnormal about Dick. He sees Dick as an all in one. Every single relationship category you can think of, Bruce has bundled it up and put it into Dick. If all their various relationships became a physical string, Bruce would have a leash on Dick that resembles a thick, corded rope. So if you cut one thread of, say, friendship, the rope won't tear become the other threads of partnership, family, and other ambiguous threads would still hold them together.

Bruce has a leash on Dick but something Dick doesn't know and Bruce won't admit is that Dick has a leash on him too.

HERE'S THE INSECURITY WITH DICK AGAIN. THE MAN THINKS THE WORLD OF DICK BUT HE'S HORRIFIED AT THE THOUGHT, AT THE POSSIBILITY, THAT DICK DOESN'T FEEL THE SAME OF HIM.

He's constantly seeking reassurance of his place with Dick through the only way he knows how-manipulation. While Bruce consistently distances himself from his son, he's doing it on purpose so Dick will come running back to him. I mean-isn't that what he did with Jason? Expelling Dick in fury and fear and not telling Dick about taking in a new robin?

In the comic Dick drops by and tells him "I found out through a newspaper and since I haven't been robin..." to which Bruce responds horrified and guilty. He knows what he's doing. He just doesn't want to get caught as to why.

Others have picked on this obsession he has with Dick too:

Someone clearly knew the importance of Nightwing to Batman. They knew what his death would do to him. And in response Bruce went out of his way-to a foreign land-just to take revenge on the man who almost took “his boy” away from him. Leaving with a parting promise, an oath, to hunt down the other one and leave him crippled for life too. Did Batman know KG Beast would survive or did he just leave it up to fate?

In the previous panel, apart from KG Beast calling Dick "your boy" to Batman, it's only implied though. So how do we know if Dick really does have that much weight to Bruce? Well not only is it confirmed, it is engraved in stone:

And when the blast nearly kills Dick, Bruce nearly kills the man who did it. WITH A GUN.

Also him trying to strangle Lex Luthor to death before Lex chokes out in between stolen gasps that Dick's not actually dead but he will be if Bruce continues.

Did you know that the dead Robin in the Superman vs Batman movie was confirmed to be Dick? Yeah. That says a lot right there.

Brothers

I'm not going to get into their brother relationship because that involves how Alfred treats Dick as a son rather than a grandson and is opening a whole new mansion of stuff so I'm going to wrap this up here and say the two of them are a LOT.

Bruce and Dick's relationship is impossible to define and that's why they keep ending up fighting. Their relationship doesn't have clear boundaries and since each type of relationship (brotherhood, father/son, partnership, friendship, colleagues, idols&pedestals) has it's own unique problems, and because the two of them alone are all those things, they have all the problems of each of these categories combined. But they also have all the benefits. Inseparably entwined these two.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #slade wilson #deathstroke #billy wintergreen #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #clark kent #superman #batfamily #alfred pennyworth #I hope this is was you were looking for #cl anon asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 5)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, angst, language, dirty talk, digital penetration, etc etc.

So sorry for the wait…I’ve been so busy and I’m scatterbrained as it is. I love you all and appreciate your patience as always! My lovelies, you all own my heart ❤️ Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving, I’ll add my taglist tomorrow, I promise. Tonight, I’m tipsy and in a turkey coma. xoxo

It’s early when your heavy eyes reluctantly drift open. Quiet. Silent. Save for the serene, rhythmic push and pull of his soft breath against the nape of your neck. In and out, in and out, like a whispered incantation sent to lull you into his placid waters.

Morning light is threatening to steal the darkness away, inching its way into the room, casting a muted, purple glow against the wall. You snuggle in closer to him and watch the moon prepare to fight the battle it wages ceaselessly. It loses to the sun again and again, and this morning will be no different.

How you wish the moon could win just this once. How you loathe the sun for refusing its slumber. How dare it steal this night away from you? How dare it force you to face the gravity of this life you’ve built without him? Of choice? Of pain either way?

Jake has insisted on sending the others along, promising he won’t be far behind. That he’ll take a car, or catch a short flight…vowing to appear on stage for sound check - the prodigal son returning to whichever arena is next on the list.

You hadn’t needed to hear the opposite end of the conversation last night to know that Josh couldn’t have been happy about it…but, even after all this time, you still know them both well enough to know that Jake’s heels were dug in and that Josh - knowing this, too - wouldn’t fight him too viciously.

“You awake?” His voice, gorgeously gruff with sleep, hushes against your skin just before his lips find a place there with a delicate kiss.

A hum rasps out of you as you stroke your fingers down his forearm, not trusting yourself to speak over the lump pulsing in your throat.

If he understands the reason for your quiet, he doesn’t let on, “God, how fucking perfect is this? You smell so good.”

He trails off, nestling in against you as his arms tighten their hold, tucking you right in until you can feel the drum of his beautiful heart tapping a steady beat against your shoulder blade.

“Do you remember the first time we woke up next to each other?” His lips graze across your bare shoulder gingerly as he whispers to you, calming your mind with his soothing cadence.

“Yes,” how could you ever forget? “It was the morning you told me you loved me. Then we went downstairs and Josh shoveled pancakes onto our plates until we were sick.”

His hand disappears beneath the sheets to feather along your breast..tickling over your nipple until it pebbles, “That was a beautiful morning with my beautiful girl, but it wasn't the first.”

Confused, you sift through memories rapidly. So many of them, and so many of them him…flashes of his face, so stunning and serene in his devotion, his voice, his laugh. Darkened eyes devouring you from above, owning you like a deity you are hopeless to deny, his hands, his heart, his love.

Suddenly, there it is - crystal clear as the spring you had visited that long ago weekend. The memory brings a nostalgic smile playing across your lips. You had all been so young then. So naive of what was to come. Untouchable laughter echoing off trees that had been standing, solemn and still, long enough to know it wouldn’t last. “The UP…camping at Indian Lake. You forgot your tent when we were packing up, and Josh had the most fun making fun of you about it because—“

He interrupts with a spot on impression of his twin, “Who the fuck goes camping and forgets their tent? That’s like—“

You chime in as well, “Going to the vet without your dog.”

“I woke up beside you and I just…” he falls silent for a beat and then marches on with a shaky breath, “You were sleeping so peacefully, so sweetly, like an angel - and he was out there by the fire causing chaos and frying eggs. I laid there beside you and pretended you were mine. Made up a little life for us in my head. We had three girls and a cat who sunbathed at their feet during tea parties in the backyard. They looked just like you. I loved you, and you loved me back.”

“Tell me more.” You urge so softly, you’ve hardly made a sound. “Tell me about our life.”

He cuddles in closer, cheek nuzzling into your tangled hair. “I buy you the most beautiful house you’ve ever seen. And it has a great big covered porch where we like to sit in the evenings. We hold hands on the swing and watch the girls make up elaborate games with the fireflies. Our youngest is the bossiest, and you say she reminds you of Josh. There’s a place in the side yard. I leveled it out just after we moved in so you could plant a garden, and I help you harvest tomatoes in the evenings because you always plant too many.”

“I do not plant too many,” your laugh is gentle, wistful. “I make salsa for your stupid brothers.”

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding along as he continues stroking over your chest, abandoning your breast for the thrum of your heart beneath his palm. “You make salsa for my stupid brothers. The girls complain and bargain for time when we tell them it’s time for baths, but you step in and order them inside because I can’t tell them no.”

“You’re no help at all.” You sigh, sinking into the soft domesticity of the picture he is painting just for you.

“Yes, I am.” He argues, kissing along your jaw. “I help with baths, and then I play them all the prettiest songs I’ve ever written for you until their eyes are hazy enough to drift away. And then I hold your hand some more down the hall, and I close our bedroom door, and I lay you down and remind you of how much I love you until you sound like all those pretty songs I’ve written for you.”

“Yeah?” You can’t help the girlish giggle that floats off your tongue. He turns you into liquid bliss so effortlessly, speaking to you like a lullaby until warm, worshipful devotion swells in your chest, leaving room for nothing but Jake.

“Yeah.” His tongue travels over the shell of your ear as he breathes promises into it, twisting and tightening your belly way down deep “And sometimes I remind you slow and sweet…sometimes I hold you like bone china and move gently, and softly, until you’re shaking and fluttering around me, all silk and velvet walls like flower petals. And other times, I give it to you nasty. Fuck you filthy, and dirty, and hard so you’ll remember who my pretty little fuck doll is…and you take my cock like a whore with my hand over your mouth so you don’t wake the neighbors.”

His touch remains far too innocent for the words dripping from his lips like salacious prayers. It’s still playing softly over your heart - perhaps just to feel the quickening of its beats, perhaps just because he has missed it so.

“Touch me.” you shiver as the plea rolls off your tongue, anticipating the way he will give into you, and the way it will feel when he does.

“I am touching you.” He’s burying his face in your hair, breathing you in, filling his lungs with everything he has missed so desperately.

“Don’t tease me.” There’s a pout edging its way into your tone, and he is positively weak for it. He’d like to think that you have never sounded this way for anyone else. He’d like to believe that he has never heard you sound this way…that you have never begged for him with such soft urgency on your tongue.

“Shh, sugar,” he soothes, and the way it slows your pulse like a drug…well, you can almost believe that nothing has ever been wrong with your world. You can almost believe that you’ve lived all of your lifetimes here in this room with him, wrapped up in the sheets, safe and so, so loved. “you know I’m gonna take care of my girl. You just close your eyes, baby, alright? Just close your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter shut as though he has willed them so, and then his fingers are winding the gentlest trail down your body, slipping like hot silk down your stomach, and then to your thigh to pull it to the side, opening you up for him.

“I think about this all the time.” he confesses, sweeping his fingertips against your entrance and then over your clit once his touch is slick and warm. “Lying with you. Talking with you in bed the way we used to. Feeling your hair tickle my cheek. Watching you sigh for me, wet and aching for me, for what I can give you…nobody else.”

“Nobody else, Jake,” you nod feverishly as he begins drawing delicate circles over your swollen clit. “Nobody else.”

“Do you think about me, too?” his mouth hovers over your pulse, tracing an S for his sugar against it. “When you’re all alone?”

His touch is picking up in pace, those goddamed fingers of his that seem to somehow vibrate, they know every inch of you…how to touch you. How to take you apart. How to play you. You are his favorite instrument.

“Yes,” it stutters out of you, inarticulate and clumsily, but he loves it all the more for it.

“Yeah?” there it is, that smug air in his tone that makes your entire body throb with want. “Does my sweet little girl touch herself when no one is around to see? Does my sugar call my name when she slips her hand between these pretty thighs?”

“Jake, please…” your grip has found its way around his wrist, tight and sure, to keep his hand where you so badly need it.

“Stop begging, baby,” he croons, pressing kisses against your temple, “I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you cum, soft and gentle, ‘cause you’re my beautiful fucking girl. And then you’re going to ride my cock filthy, fuck doll.”

A sound that you ought to be ashamed of claws its way out of your chest, feral and furious in your need as you rock your hips into his hand. His pace never falters, never varies, as he whispers praise and vulgarities into your ear, skilled fingers swirling and swirling and swirling over your clit until you’re right fucking there.

“Come on, pretty girl…” more kisses to your temple as adulation tumbles from his lips endlessly. “Give it to me, sugar, give it to me.”

It spreads itself out in your body like a heavy swallow of red wine. unfurling inside you like euphoric heat, curling your toes and prickling your scalp as it trips up your spine. It’s so delicate and light, his touch like a feather against your clit as it trembles and twitches…and just like always, he knows, and works you through it softly, gingerly, reverently, until the tide pulls back.

“You made a mess, baby.” he teases, whispering into the crook of your neck with a smile on his lips and his fingers now curling across the pillow of his tongue.

“Whose fault is that?” you pant back, working hard to chase down your breath.

“I’ll own making a mess of your pretty cunt any day, sweetheart…any fucking day.”

You roll your eyes without much conviction, for you adore his obscene prose “Poetic.”

He rolls onto his back, tugging you along for the ride until you are perched above and straddling him.

He looks like a fallen, arcane angel beneath you, with his hair snarled and knotted against the pillow, eyes clouded with lust and darkened with blown pupils, lips pink and tumid - parted and pretty.

“You’re beautiful.” you shake your head in wonder. He is exquisite. Ethereal. Flawless. Precious.

He shakes his head right back, cupping your cheek, “You’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful sugar. I have loved you forever and I will love you always.”

With your cheeks heating under his awestruck scrutiny, you bite down on your lip coyly…you haven’t forgotten that he likes a hint of innocence now and then. “Did I hear you mention something about riding your cock filthy, Jakey? Or did I misunderstand?”

His palm is wrapped around your throat in a breath, pulling your mouth down to his. He licks against your tongue with a menacing hum. “You wanna ride my cock, baby? You wanna fuck me dirty while I lie back and watch you do all the work like my good little girl?”

A shiver shimmies your shoulders as your gaze flutters away abashedly, inexplicably shy.

“Aw,” it isn’t taunting, he sounds genuinely starstruck by the bashful blush coloring the apples of your cheeks. “Look at my sweetheart. Does it still make you a little soft when I tell you what a good girl you are for me? You like that?”

You nod, and this time, when your teeth sink into your bottom lip, it isn’t contrived.

“I know, sugar…” he pets at your face like you’re fragile, made of glass and dear to his heart. “It always has. You are, you know? You’re my very good girl and I love you more than anything in this whole fucking world. Nothing even comes close.”

Emboldened and driven half crazy by the love he is wringing from his heart, you rise up on your knees and issue an order, which doesn’t make you a very good girl at all. “Put it in.”

A huff of wanton breath escapes him, and then, with one hand wrapped around his thick cock, and the other digging into your hip, he pulls you down and buries himself inside you.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” it’s a hitching groan that rattles in his chest. “Look at you, wrapped up sweet and pink around me. Pretty as a picture, aren’t you, baby? Taking this cock. So fucking tight. You feel so good.”

“Yeah,” you can’t manage much else as your nails dig into his chest for purchase, head tipping back as you begin to ride him fast and hard, forgoing an easy lead up…you need him too badly.

His tip, so thick and perfect, begins spoiling over the sweetest spot inside you when he angles your hips…knocking against it until the air is punching from your lungs with every downward swivel of your hips.

“That’s the spot right there, isn’t it, sugar?” he voice, rasping and strangled with pleasure drags you closer and closer. “Right there, huh? That’s where my girl needs my cock…right fucking there.”

“Yes! Right there…” you repeat, blathering on with your hands on your own tits, twisting and tugging at your nipples as your thighs burn and scream for mercy you don’t care to give them. “Right there right there right there…”

“Yeah? You want it right there?” his thumb drops to your clit as he drinks you in, savoring you as you work yourself into a frenzy above him. “You take it right there, pretty girl…you just fucking take it.”

You can feel him twitching and straining inside your clenching cunt, and you know desperate little spurts of precum must be steadily leaking from his cock…the thought only serves to make you coil around him even more viciously.

“Sugar,” there’s a frantic edge coloring his tone now. He’s close. “Please, baby…you’re squeezing me…so fucking…fuck, fuck…ease up, sweetheart, please. Relax that sweet little cunt for me. Baby, baby, baby…” he thrashes his head back and forth against the pillow, brow furrowed and tipped up as though he is anguished.

“No.” you’re wild and panting, sweating and clawing at his chest with unhinged need. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh god…” it hushes out of him, winded and ragged, like he’s afraid he won’t make it long enough to get you there. “C’mon, pretty girl, come on. Right on my cock. Soak it, sweetheart. I want you all fucking over me.”

“Fuck me back,” you’re clutching at his shoulders now, scrambling for purchase against his drenched, glistening skin. “Hard. Fuck me back.”

His hips begin driving up to meet you, hard and fast, slamming his cock into you over and over through gritted teeth and gutteral grunts of pleasure and agony as he fights his own release.

Arms up suddenly, he curls them violently around your shoulders, holding you still against his lap as best he can, but you continue to grind into him, working yourself back and forth over his cock, chasing and chasing and chasing that end you so badly need.

“Hold fucking still,” grits out through clenched teeth as your lips press and sway against his sweating forehead, “I’m gonna cum, sugar. Don’t move, don’t move!”

His palm lands hard against your ass in punishment for your disobedience, gripping and pulling at it, but it merely spurs you on.

“You said you wanted me to ride your cock filthy,” your words are airy puffs of taunting breath. “so fucking take it Jakey, take it.”

He doubles over into you, burying his face between your breasts and crying out into their rounded softness as he lets go inside you, painting you warm and wetter than you already were…biting and sucking, consuming you as if he wants to swallow you whole.

It’s your name, whimpering and keening out of him like a psalm that sends you tumbling along right behind him with a gushing pulse and a shaking inward pull of breath that exhales with his name to match your own still lingering on his lips.

A strange calm finds you both as you struggle to breathe wrapped up tight and tangled together in the ruined sheets and humid air. But it is a familiar calm…one that so often crept in between the two of you after you had lost yourselves the way you’ve just lost yourselves.

“No one,” his fingers tap down your spine and linger in the dimples that grace the base, “could ever make me feel the way you make me feel, sugar. No one. Ever.”

“Jake.” you sigh, and he hears a thousand words inside it.

“I know, baby.” he’s stroking through your hair now, pacifying you so all of that feverish energy will seep from your veins gently. “I know.”

~

The sun has bullied its way into the sky fully, washcloth he so lovingly swept over you now rinsed and folded over the bathroom sink, glass of water he carried in, sipped at and now lazily dripping condensation onto the nightstand.

Top sheet pulled over the fitted sheet in a half-hearted attempt to rectify the wrongs inflicted towards the bed, your bodies are twisted up below the soft, generic duvet.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” He whispers, tracing his fingers along the bridge of your nose. “I can feel it.”

“What happens now, Jake?’ You stroke his nose right back. “I’m just going to walk away from my life and follow you around the world? Like nothing ever happened?”

“Yes.” He says it like it could all be just that easy, and how you wish that were so.

“It doesn’t work that way.” He’s a dreamer. Always has been.

“So, tell me how it works then, sugar.” He pulls you into a blink of a kiss. “You go back to him, and I go back to misery and that’s it for you and I? We wake up every morning for the rest of our lives wishing things were different? Aching for each other? You tell me how that makes fucking sense.”

“Because this is real life, Jake.” Do you even believe your own bullshit? You have to, right? “This isn’t some pretty little story you’re telling. We aren’t picking tomatoes in the garden.”

God, how you hate yourself.

“We could be though.” His promises would be so lovely to slip away into…if only it could be that simple. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “It could be so simple, sugar. None of this other shit matters. We matter.”

He can’t be argued with, so instead, you simply nestle your cheek against his chest and linger in this time you have left with him.

“Will you at least leave me your number before you go? So I can call to say hello every once in a while?”

He’s giving in far too easily. He’s lying. You know he is, and he knows it just as well. He isn’t going away, and he doesn’t plan on giving up.

He has decided to stand his ground this time around. This time, for you, he has decided to fight…

and god help anyone who tries to stand in his way.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @jakesgrapejuice @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #fanfic #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake gvf #jake kiskza #jake kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka #jake kiszka smut #gvf jake #josh gvf #gvf josh #gvf smut

[wulfebound]

WULFEBOUND is an interactive fiction novel about what you had to do to survive nine years of captivity, and what you will have to do in order to live with the consequences of your newfound freedom.

You have survived by hiding your true nature. Ever since you were young, you recognized the grim truth: if people knew what you truly were, none of them would protect you. No one could truly love a creature such as you. You have your parents and your twin siblings, and you always figured that was enough.

And until you met the wulfe pack that claims the land at the edge of town, you believed it. No one had ever listened to you the way Ansel Lavaud-Mazet and their inner circle did, and you had finally let yourself trust them all. You had let yourself grow comfortable, and you had been utterly blindsided when the huntsmen came for you.

No one came for you when you called for them. No one rescued you in the years that followed when you were twisted and bound beyond recognition. No one stopped you when you tore your captors to shreds with your teeth and claws until the floor was soaked red with their blood.

Now, you will return home. This time, you will not make the same mistakes.

This time, you will be the starving wulfe in a meek sheep’s clothing.

[PLAY THE DEMO]

|| THE OUTCAST || PC

You were raised to be a survivalist; keep quiet, keep hidden, and stay away from the wulfe territory that borders the small town you were raised in. You had few enemies and even fewer friends. At least, until you met them...

|| THE WULFEBLOOD || RO

Anselme Lavaud-Mazet, known simply as Ansel, is the prodigal youngest child and Alpha of the Ridgeline. Raised as the former stern Alpha’s heir, you hardly recognize him anymore. At least, not on the surface...

|| THE LUNEBLOOD || RO

Esme Lavaud-Mazet is the elder twin and designated Lune of the Ridgeline, harboring ties to ancestral magic that makes your mouth dry up at the thought. Unlike her brother, she hasn’t changed much. She is still worried about you, somehow, even after all this time...

|| THE HUNTSPEAKER || PO

Adela Liberman, who insists on being called Addie, is the young protégé to Esme who seems to be in awe of your very existence. She says she has heard many stories of you. Whether they are exacerbated or not remains to be seen...

|| THE WULFEHAND || RO

Parisa Pahlevan is the Wulfehand to Ansel’s command and his oldest friend. She is just as stubborn and withdrawn as you remember her to be, and her distrust in you is painfully familiar.

|| THE WULFEHEART || RO

Samson Lyness, who you have called Sam since you were children, is the Wulfeheart to Ansel’s council. You met him first, and you find that you missed his calm presence. He is a steady mind in an age of turbulence... or is that what he wants you to think?

Play as your family’s beloved Kit, the eldest child of an outcast among shapeshifter society. Where the wulfekind lurks, your kind lingers for scraps. Where they hunt, you flee to survive another day.

Face the aftermath of your captivity and settle back into a routine... or let the fury devour you in its greedy jaws, and embrace the monster they always made you out to be.

Navigate the politics and tribulations of the Ridgeline: either bind yourself to the fate of the wulfe, or tear down the hierarchy that failed to accept you in the first place.

#wulfebound if #interactive fiction #if wip #choicescript

[2dieavirgin]

it’s so crazy to think about how similar chase and 13 are in terms of life experience they both grow up with moms with Conditions and ending up resenting them and hating them when they died (their words) and a sibling no one knows about until it is revealed in a tragic backstory who has/had the same Condition as their mother and they cope with hardship the same way through lots of meaningless sex with strangers also they killed someone like they have so much to bond over

they're literally like fucked up narrative twins. i forgot who said it exactly but Somebody said "thirteen is the son house never had, chase is the daughter house never wanted" and like yeah. i think that's both of their characters in a nutshell. soo obsessed with their intertwining stories and characters and arcs. and they were friends. they were co-workers but also friends and it fucks me upppp it fucks me up. foreman, thirteen, and chase, all somehow fit into this fucked up house box, and i cant articulate it right now but know that i am at all times thinking about it

anyway it's just like the prodigal son said, "your brother was dead, and is alive again, and was lost, and is found"

#ask

[foxilayde]

100 from the smut prompts is very OTTR Leto hehehehe

[thank you for the prompt, Scout! I had so much fun with this one!]

100. “You’re still so needy, even after I just fucked you”

Needy [OTTR Leto Atreides x Fem!Reader]

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY smut

When you’d first seen the bedroom where you and Leto would be spending the holidays with his family, his childhood bedroom, you laughed. You thought it was a joke. Until Leto set your suitcase on the floor, kissed the side of your head, and said, “we’re gonna be real cozy, baby.” It wasn’t so much the room itself, with it’s old posters, track and field trophies, and his mother’s sewing table in the corner. It was the bed. A twin bed. Fitted with flannel sheets and a comforter so small that you weren’t sure it would even cover the two of you.

“We’re sleeping here?” You point worriedly to the bed, eyes shooting wide.

Leto hisses and looks over his shoulder, checking to make sure his mother didn’t hear the affronted tone to your voice from the kitchen where she was cooking a welcome home meal for her apparently prodigal son. You’d never seen anyone greeted with as many kisses and tears, crossing herself and thanking various saints for Leto materializing for his holiday stay.

Leto closes the door quietly, and puts his hands on his hips. “There a problem?”

God, you don’t want to start fighting. What kind of impression would that be? A helluva way to introduce yourself to the Atreides clan gathered together downstairs.

You blink down at the bed, doing mental math, trying to envision what sleeping positions the two of you would have to hold in order to not fall off either side of the mattress.

“No.” You say with a smile, placing a hand on his heart and kissing his cheek. “Looks cozy.”

Leto scrunches his nose in agitation and sighs. “We’ll try it tonight and if it’s bad we’ll get a hotel nearby.”

You nod.

“It’ll break ma’s heart of course. She went through all this trouble—“

“Leto, it’ll be great.” You reassure him, rubbing the back of his black cashmere sweater, giving him a peck on the nose. “Let’s go downstairs, you have to introduce me to everyone.” You grin in earnest this time. You really are excited to meet his family, and warmly honored that he wants you to, and that his mother— without even knowing you— insisted you stay the full week in her house, amidst all the commotion and joyful bustle of so many family and friends celebrating together.

Leto’s eyes soften and he glances back at the bed, “I swear that thing was a lot bigger when I was 18.”

You laugh, hugging him close to you, “thank you for brining me, Leto.”

Leto hums, burying his face in your hair, rubbing your back firmly, “thanks for kicking my ass about going home for the holidays, baby. This’ll be nice. And if it’s not—“

“A hotel, yeah I know.”

—————-

It ends up being very nice. Much nicer than you anticipated, not only have you been ingratiated into the Atreides family with open arms (Leto’s sisters were downright haranguing him for not having proposed to you yet), but the sleeping situation isn’t horrible at all, in fact, its downright cozy. Just like he’d said it would be.

It’s a snowy week in Jersey, a climate that neither of you are accustomed to at your costal home in California, but it’s toasty inside the glowing home, and the heat rises to the top floor where Leto’s room is. Plus the heat of both of you, snuggled cozy in the small bed under the flannel sheets, it’s comforting in a way you’ve never known in your oversized king bed by the sea. Sure, there’s no Egyptian cotton sheets, no down comforter, but there’s also no balcony for Leto to escape to for his cigarette, no way for either of you to scoot to a respective side if you get in a ‘mood’. He holds you close, in his arms, your legs tucked together. He can kiss parts of you without moving much. He whispers how much he loves you, loves seeing you with his family, he strokes your arm, your side, your back, with the tips of his fingers until you’re lulled to sleep. And after so much socializing every day, so much food and drink and nieces and nephews running around, you sleep like a rock through the night.

On the fifth night, instead of assuming your position as the little spoon like you have been the previous four nights, you slip in between the sheets and lay down on your side in bed and face him, stroking his beard. You love that he grows it out in the colder seasons, it suits his face so well. He looks so utterly soft and domestic in his white sleep shirt, no gold gazelle shades or silk button down. You study his face in the low lights provided by the Christmas bulbs outside the window that glow softly through the frosted glass. You try to see the boy his mother showed you in the photo albums the day before. He’s usually so hard and gruff, it’s hard to do, but when his eyes turn up in question at your inspection, you can see him in there in the warm brown depths. You grin, biting your lower lip.

Leto shakes his head softly, grinning back at you, “I know that look, little miss.”

“What look?!” You whisper, scooting closer into his embrace, giggling at his expression and stroking his beard lightly.

“I know that look. You’re thinking naughty thoughts.” Leto pinches your side and you nearly yelp from the tickling, you would have too, if you weren’t acutely aware of his mother’s room being on the other side of the wall.

You slap his chest as best you can in such close proximity, but the lack of leverage only makes your hand cling to his pec in a needy way and Leto glances down at it. “She’s gettin frisky.” He sighs somewhat dramatically in a put upon way, grabbing your hand and kissing the tips of your fingers, “I shouldn’t be so surprised. You’ve been without daddy’s cock for what, 72 hours now? Baby must be starving.”

He’s such a self-satisfied tease, taking total mirth in your affronted expression, encircling your wrist in his palm while you try your best to take a good playful whack at his chest.

“For your information, it’s been… over a hundred hours.”

“That so? Well I trust you to keep score on the t-minus how long its been since you’ve cum, needy, needy baby.”

“You love that I’m needy,” you lay the sultry eyes on him, “because you love giving me what I need.”

Leto’s eyes go dumb for half a second and he loosens his grip on your wrists, allowing you to maneuver your hands around his broad shoulders, gently guiding his body to easily roll over your own.

“Oh yeah? And what does baby need, huh?” He rubs his nose against yours, he’s smiling so big his teeth are showing and you know from experience he won’t so much as kiss you until you tell him. Explicitly.

“I need,” You hear a floorboard creek from somewhere down the hallway. Jesus, the last thing you need is for someone to overhear what you’re about to say to your boyfriend. You put your mouth up next to Leto’s ear and whisper, “I need your big cock inside me.” You tug the lobe of his ear gently between your teeth.

Leto groans in approval, kissing you messily as you both work to rid yourselves of all sleep attire.

“You gotta be quiet, baby,” Leto says between kisses. Your moan of agreement is sharp and needy against his lips and probably already louder than you should be judging by the way Leto chuckles against your lips.

It’s not as though you’re a loud person, or have been historically or anything, you’ve never been a ‘screamer’, but with Leto? Let’s just say the man has been known to pull unholy sounds out of you with nothing but his lips, tongue, and two well-placed fingers. The man just does something to you. Those fingers make their way between your naked bodies to the heat between your legs, swiping at your already substantial wetness.

“Fuck. Baby. So fucking wet. You been horny for me all evening or what?”

You moan again, pursing your lips closed you try your best to reign in your expression of pleasure, nodding. “Yeah. Need you.”

Leto plants his forehead against yours and uses the wetness from your pussy to stroke his cock, teasing your folds with his tip, earning a barely stifled moan from you to his delight.

“What was it, baby? What got you so worked up that you’re that fucking wet for me, huh?” He’s taking far to much pleasure in teasing you, letting his cock notch in and slide up, rubbing your clit with the underside of his cock. “Tell me, baby. Tell me and I’ll give it to you, give you what you need.”

You’re so ravenously horny at this point you don’t care if he knows exactly what it was this evening that was making you hot and bothered. “Seeing you with Joey and Nicky, with the boys, how good you are with them, how… how, oh fuck, how good of a uncle you are, what a good dad you’d be.”

That stops him cold for the flash of an instant, forehead on yours, panting heavily above you. He warms to it almost instantly, running a hand from your hip bone all the way up to your cheek, making you shiver audibly in the process. “That right, baby? Mmmm, fuck, that what you want? Want me to make you a mommy, huh?”

You gasp at the combination of his phrasing and the dark look in in his eyes. You can’t tell if he’s teasing or if he’s taking it in earnest, calling your bluff like he so often does at any and all detriment to himself just to prove a point.

Leto slides home and your replying moan is unquestionably too loud for comfort because Leto covers your mouth with his palm, scooting deep into you and whispering, “What did I say, huh? Shhhh.” He replaces his hand with his mouth and fucks into you slowly, but not without force. Enough force to make the bed squeak softly underneath your hips. You grab him by his backside, fingers divoting the warm flesh of his ass, drawing him further into your throbbing cunt.

Leto’s lips against yours are working twofold in containing both the sounds of your pleasure and his own. You feed them to each other, one hand on the back of his head, one on his ass and maybe its the fact that this is Vacation Sex, or that you haven’t had each other in a handful of days, but Leto is more vocal than usual and struggling, like you, to reign it in. You can feel it in the hunch of his shoulders, the crease in his brow, in the way he wrestles between fucking the way he wants to and straining to mitigate the sounds of the creaky old headboard and squeaky wire box spring beneath you.

All he can do is give it to you hard and slow, easing into every thrust, never making a move that would surprise you enough to punch a shriek into the silent night air.

When you break the kiss to tell him, “I’m close, I’m close, I’— I’m—“

He groans, pained by restriction, burying his face into your neck and galloping into you at as unhurried a pace as he can while still maintaining the effort of “keeping quiet”. Leto can feel when you’re on the brink and he covers your mouth with his palm again, biting into your shoulder to stave off his own orgasm til yours is complete. Your toes curl into the warm flannel sheet and you try your damndest to keep your whine as silent as possible, Leto fucking you steadily through your climax. It goes on for what feels like minutes, the heat through your veins, the tension and shakes, the suffocating feeling of your moans barricaded behind Leto’s palm, as if trapping all the noise inside of you is keeping your pleasure from spilling out at the same time and instead you have to take the force of it in little sips, prolonging the whole experience, thrust by measured thrust.

Leto lets go and cums the moment you start to sag under him, having sufficiently fucked you through the waves of your pleasure. He pushes deep inside of you and kisses your trembling lips, his own mouth beginning to stutter with satisfaction. His eyelids flutter a bit and everything from his breathing to the relaxing of his brow and shoulders reads like utter blissful relief. You kiss him on the warming pink apples of his bearded cheek.

Leto rolls over, taking you with him to rest comfortably on his chest. He kisses your fingertips tiredly and you marvel at his beauty from the pillow of his chest, from his hawklike angular face to the sturdiness of his body under your own.

He scratches and strokes your back as you nuzzle into him, kissing his warm, slightly perspiring neck, and sucking little marks where no one but you will see. Your hand rests comfortably on his softening, sticky cock. You curl and unfurl your fingers, gently stroking his sac. You suck a little mark in the valley of his chest and squeeze your hand a little more forcefully around him, earning a rumble from the chest under your lips.

“You’re still so needy, even after I just fucked you.”

His voice is deeper than usual. You prop your chin on his chest to gaze into his black glittering eyes. You are needy for him. You can’t deny it, there’d be no point. But that’s why you work, isn’t it? You need him and he needs to be needed. He relies on your reliance as much as you rely on, well, him. You’re half fucking tempted to trade in your California King for a twin bed the second you get home, because this has just been utter heaven being wrapped up in him like this. There’s no space on earth small enough to accommodate the amount of space that you don’t want in between the two of you.

You scoot yourself even closer to him, he welcomes the intrusion, grabbing your hips like he dares you to try and leave his embrace.

“Yes, Leto. I always need you.”

And he can’t fuck the neediness out of you, but he can sure try.

End

#OTTR Leto Atreides #Off To The Races Leto Atreides #x reader #x you #Oscar Isaac characters

[greghatecrimes]

Truly they are the Prodigal Twins

#that post that's like 'three bisexual doctors diagnose you with whipples disease' #rewatch lb #6x15 #sorry for meh quality video my dvds are being a little wonky #their faces after they say it at the exact same time are so funny #thirteen is awkward and chase is like 'oh woah' #greg house #remy thirteen hadley #robert chase #they are so siblings #house md

[thatbitchkayla30]

I've decided that I'm compiling a list of Danny & Damien Twin Crossover AU's

Twin Souls [Updated 02/22/2023]

What Happened? [Updated 02/01/2023]

One Fall, Two Rise [Updated 02/04/2023]

Prodigal of Lazarus [Updated 02/03/2023]

Tell me to stay [Updated 01/21/2023]

And You're Always Free To Begin Again [Updated 01/18/2023]

Because I Could Not Stop For Death / Death Kindly Stopped For Me [Updated 01/29/2023]

Soulbound Brethren [Updated 01/24/2023]

King Daniel Aidan Phantom of the Infinite Realms , [Updated 01/19/2023]

Undead (Technically) Demon Twin [Updated 01/27/2023]

Finding Valhalla [Updated 02/03/2023]

Shadow of the Demon Heir [Completed]

Endless Road to Rediscover [Updated 01/27/2023]

Green never looked so sad before I lost you. [Updated 01/26/2023]

Schrodinger's Danny [Updated 01/03/2023]

Ghost Kings and Gotham Bats [Updated 01/03/2023]

What do I think of life? (Baby, not much, I wanna die) [Updated 12/30/2022]

close enough to be whole again [Updated 12/31/2022]

A Phantom's Perch [Updated 12/29/2022]

Turning Shadows into Shapes [Updated 01/20/2023]

Hey, Who is Damian? [Updated 12/26/2022]

You Look Like You’ve Seen A Ghost [Updated 02/08/2023]

It's Only Me (Though Not As I've Appeared Before) [Updated 01/18/2023]

Cheat Combo: Assassin Overdrive [Updated 12/25/2022]

But I Want to Be Let In, Not Out [Updated 01/14/2022]

birthright [Updated 12/21/2022]

Bat Ghost [Updated 12/20/2022]

Leap Before You Think [Updated 01/17/2023]

O Brother, Where Art Thou? [Updated 11/27/2022]

How to introduce your eldritch ghost king twin brother [Updated 11/27/2022]

The Lost One [Updated 11/25/2022]

inversion [Updated 11/21/2022]

the ghost in the mirror [Updated 11/20/2022]

Finding Bones, Finding Ghosts [Updated 11/19/2022]

you’re stardust under my fingers [Updated 11/14/2022]

Who Else Is Also Real? [Updated 01/27/2023]

Phantom Pain [Updated 01/28/2023]

The Missing Piece [Updated 09/12/2022]

Seeds Of the Father [Updated 09/08/2022]

Everything is Something to Somebody [Updated 09/06/2022]

Long Lost Love (Holds On to Me Tight) [Updated 07/15/2022]

Trial and Error [Updated 06/22/2022]

When I'm not mobile I'll probably organize them by unfinished, finished & one shots. For now this is the list lol

#danny fenton #danny phantom #damian wayne #robin #batman #bruce wayne #batfam #batfamily #dc

[yesimwriting]

Omg since we're talking about the birthdays on the gravestones, I did not realize that Venetia was the oldest sibling. Throughout the entirety of the film, I figured Felix was the older one, but nope if the graves are to be believed then she was born 10 April 1986. I mean she's not older by much, but wow Elspeth and Sir James were really putting the work in trying to get a son. I find it very fitting that Felix is the baby of the family lol.

omg love this detail!!

i've always thought felix has youngest sibling, golden child, prodigal's son energy lol and venetia is def the older sister that has accepted that her parents will never see her the way they see her little brother to the point where there isn't even a rivalry, it's just how it is and has always been

i've seen so many discussions on different birth orders for them and what that could mean for the family dynamic as a whole and the characters as individuals

there are so many that bring up interesting points about felix being older,, one time i saw a post on here (that i wish i could remember 😭) that analyzed venetia and felix as twins and i thought that was so interesting and felt so fitting bc i feel like elspeth would hate pregnancy/birth bc if you think about it,, pregnancy is the kind of thing that could horrify someone like elspeth

no hate to pregnancy i promise 😭 i just feel like elspeth's character would be kind of disgusted by it--you grow, you're prodded at, you're prone to morning sickness, and your skin and hair can lose their luster (which is part of the reason i love the interpretation of felix and venetia as twins, bc i think it's extremely conceivable that she'd get pregnant once and be like okay that wasn't for me)

maybe that's why felix is so special to her, he brought the relief of never having to be pregnant again

anyways that was a bit of a tangent <3

#saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn x reader #ask #felix catton x reader

[thesith]

— Marching Far Away

tech x reader, implied echo x reader (she/her pronouns)

this is a one shot (1.1k)

warnings: heavy angst, hurt/comfort, death, involves the stages of grief. slight canon divergence. S2 E16 SPOILERS

notes: this fic is in tech’s POV, so be aware of that as you’re reading!

mando’a translations: cyar’ika: darling, sweetheart; yaim’ol: return, homecoming; usen’ye: go away (very rude); ni su’cuyi, gar kry’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: i’m still alive, but you are dead. i remember you, so you are eternal (daily remembrance for those who have passed.)

the title is in reference to a mando’a saying, ny kyr’aduc, shi taab’echaaj’la, meaning “not gone, merely marching far away” in tribute to a dead comrade.

summary: tech watches you from afar after plan 99

“There is no time, Wrecker. Plan 99.” I reached for my blaster - a weapon I’ve become most familiar with over my time as a soldier. Though I’m proficient in many weapons, my favorite is my mind - the most dangerous weapon of them all.

Wrecker groaned at my conclusion - presumably out of frustration. “Don’t you do it, Tech.”

I sighed, knowing this was the only way to ensure their survival. The odds of us all making it out in time is 24 percent - the odds of them making it out if Plan 99 is executed jumps to a staggering 76. I know what must be done, but do they?

“When have we ever followed orders.” I stated, precisely aiming my shot to sever the hinge prohibiting their escape. I watch Wrecker, Omega, and her eyes widen at my rash decision, though one that was most honorable in my culture.

The fall isn’t as… painful, as I’d anticipated. No statistic could lead me to the conclusion of how painful it’d be to fall from 200 feet up, let alone watch my comrades' reactions. The impact comes shortly after, leaving me in a less-than optimal state.

Crying; originating from sadness. A sound I’ve gotten used to over my solitary time. From my batchmates, my younger sister, and her. God, her, what I wouldn’t give to be back in my cyar’ika’s arms safely, not having to watch her suffering from afar.

The days after my passing were evidently rough for my crew, though it should not have been - I am a soldier, meant to be expendable. Though, if the roles were reversed and it’d been any one of them, my reaction would be one and the same.

In my previous research, I discovered that the first stage of grief is denial. After much observation, I see this to be correct. Between Hunter’s “I’m waiting for Tech’s yaim’ol,” and her constant whispers of this situation not being reality, this stage is confirmed. It is… painful, for me to watch as they put themselves through this unnecessary self-inflicted torture, but they must to find themselves to be happy again. This, I suppose, I am content with, as I long for them to be satisfactory and functional without me.

I’ve found that she spends much of her time alone, which is not the most optimal way to grieve. I believe she misses me, just as I miss her - an astute observation from the past two months of watching.

When Crosshair returned to my absence, I believe it affected him as well. Though he’s in the anger stage of grief. Whenever she attempts to check up on him, despite her own longing to be alone, he sends her away with “usen’ye!”. Though I wish for him not to speak to her in that tone, I comprehend that it is just part of who he is - the prodigal brother; my twin.

She’s opening up more to my brothers, which I find to be an incredible step forward. Echo has been a support system for her in my absence, which I appreciate greatly. Though I do sense some awkwardness, it’s to be expected. She does seem a bit perturbed with my decision, which I hope will curb soon. I do not wish her to see me in a negative light.

Echo has taught her the Mando’a phrase of remembrance, which she speaks daily, multiple times a day. The “ni su’cuyi, gar kry’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Tech,” falling from her lips in almost perfected Mando’a gives me pride - she is so intelligent, even in the darkest of times. I hope I will have eternal life, if only just in her memories.

She speaks to Echo about what she could’ve done differently to prevent the loss of myself - the answer being nothing. She’s punishing herself for my decision, one that had the best overall outcome for the group - though I’m realizing how this affected them as a whole and as individuals.

“What if I was the one to restore power instead? What if I took the risk of pulling him up? What if…”

Cyar’ika, nothing could’ve changed this outcome. Our deaths are all inevitable, some more imminent than others. All we can do, as living beings, is accept that.

I have never been more enraged than I was at the sight of Hemlock giving her my goggles. All of the progress she’s made seemed to melt away just at the sight of the broken lenses - it all faltered, just as she did in Echo’s arms. Though this is an unfortunate circumstance, I am glad she’s finding much needed solace in him - she understands that she is not alone.

She rests for most of the day, forgets to eat, isolates herself. All of the progress made has refreshed to what she was before, just from one object. Though Echo tries his best, there isn’t much he can do to motivate her - he can just watch as she withers away, just like I can. In the stage of depression, we are all rendered hopeless.

At night, I find her and Omega to be in an embrace - platonic cuddling for comfort, a healthy way of recovering. Her connection with my siblings has only grown stronger, despite the setbacks along the way. Her, Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Omega were learning to live without me, and it is not upsetting. I would find comfort in knowing they can go on with their lives and find happiness.

She seems to be prospering, which gives me a sense of pride. I am proud that she has overcome my loss, and continues to thrive with the help of her support system. Things seem to be looking up for my cyar’ika, which I have never been more grateful for.

Her strained relationship with Hunter has been all but mended, little to no animosity remaining between the two. With Echo’s assistance, she is beginning to complete the puzzle of her life once more, without my pieces in it. Though the puzzle may never be completed for her again, she is learning to live without them.

All I wish is for her to be happy, which comes about with the acceptance stage of grief. She is beginning to greet this new reality with a small smile, rather than tears more aggressive than the storms on Kamino.

Three years later, I am still observing her and my siblings, but I thought that was obvious. I acknowledge that I have and will always be a large part of their lives, but it is simply thrilling seeing their adventures and new lives - not as clones, but as free people.

She has come so far since that day, and viewing her with Echo gives me faith that even in the most difficult times, one can come through.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kry’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Tech,” is still heard daily, and that is more than enough for me.

fin.

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist!

#the bad batch #bad batch #sw tbb #the bad batch tech #tech x reader #angst #star wars #the bad batch x reader #xena’s fics

[gayvecchio]

Short, one-shots under 5k

Stained by Jenn

mornings most of all by ifreet

were no crime by sionnain

Four A.M. in Chicago by mireille

Somewhere Else by Azar

Our Dancing Days by sdwolfpup

On Golden Pond by Belle_Evans

You're just my type by deathbyOTPin123

Repeat by SLWalker

Untitled by Jenn

On a map the gap's three fingers by belmanoir

Medium length, 5k-10k

Acharnement by pqlaertes

Reconstruction by brynnmck

Ray Vecchio, Sixty-Four, in Canada in the Summertime by Scribe

Long, Slow Drift by belmanoir

Red Ruse by Cherilyn (Ankh)

Heart Held Out Like A Tin Cup  by brynnmck, sdwolfpup

This Error by Laura Shapiro (laurashapiro), Pares (kormantic)

No Son of His by m. fae glasgow

Come In From the Cold by Nos4a2no9

Longer stories, 10k+

Disposable Teens (teachers au) by Jenn

Cold Heart (Twin Peaks Crossover, ft. Fraser/Cooper) by Dorthy Marley

Through the Night, Behind the Wheel, the Mileage Clicking West by neverfaraway

I Miss You, etc. by portlandwithyou

Bye Bye, Bookman by Muriel_Perun

Long Way Home by Justine Bennett, Morgan Dawn

Double or Nothing by brynnmck

The Diner by rose_malmaison

Power Out by NewEyes

The Poker Night Series (four stories in total) by Ruth_Devero

Shooting Star by Lazuli_Kat

Burn this Town to the Ground by vailkagami

Prodigal Mountie by amaruuk

#due south #fraser/vecchio #f/v #fraser/rayv #fraser x vecchio #benton fraser #ray vecchio #ds30below #fic recs

[catboygretzky]

can you pls explain what aftg is? 😭 everything i've heard makes it seem like a fever dream wattpad fic (affectionate)

i mean. yeah fever dream wattpad fic (affectionate) is a good way to describe it.

you got these books. you got a made up sport that doesn't really make sense. the first 3 books are from the pov of an 18 year old runaway orphan boy who lies as easy as he breathes. also his father is a literal serial killer (he is who this 18 year old orphan boy is running from)

runaway orphan boy signs with a college team that is pretty much a home for fucked up college kids. the foxes. they're bad but they just got this new kid who was the best exy (aforementioned made up sport) player in the world before he broke his hand. how did he break his hand? well, glad you asked.

you got this cult (sports team) that is run by the literal yakuza. new kid, who i will call prodigal son bc his mom invented the sport and he is referred to as the son of exy, was part of this cult run by the literal yakuza. they broke his hand so he couldn't play. UNTIL HE DID! :o

BUT WAIT! prodigal son and orphan boy have MET! they met when runaway orphan boy's dad cut a man to pieces in front of them (they were tweens at this time). apparently runaway's serial killer father WORKED for the yakuza the whole time!!!!!

(you'll read prodigal son and runaway's interactions the whole sreies and go 'huh this is very homoerotic do they fall in love?')

then u got this psychotic 5 foot nothing goalie (who has a twin also on the team)(they've both killed someone)(btw)(also he's blond)(and gay) who literally could stop the yakuza if need be and WAIT! does runaway orphan boy only know how to have homoerotic interactions with other men? the answer is probably yes.* blond goalie and runaway actually gay tho and make out a lot

also runaway gets tortured (twice) but he's fine or whatever. more murder. violence violence. some great side characters.

i'd say 'did that make sense' but i *know* it didn't bc even with my knowledge of the books it doesn't make sense.

so just like. an underdog sports story but the yakuza is there is how i'd jokingly describe it but it is in fact,,,,so much more than that.

if u are not enticed by my description and are not able to suspend all belief and accept there will be loose ends bc runaway is a TERRIBLY unreliable narrator with trauma up the wazoo, you will never understand. but if u ARE enticed, welcome to brain rot central. here are the trigger warnings.

there's also a fourth book that just came out but that's from a completely different pov that i am holding so deeply to my heart right now, cannot make fun of it

(*runaway, blond goalie, and prodigal son were originally a throuple and the author took it out but did nothing to erase how gay they all are)

#ur welcome for this #aftg #long post