#and now he lives only for himself. AND NO THIS DOESN'T MEAN HE DOESN'T HONOR MARIA OR SUDDENLY DOESN'T CARE ABOUT HER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quimichi · 7 months

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↳ ❝ [CALLING THE MONDSTADT BOYS YOUR GOOD BOY] ¡! ❞

Mondstadt boys x Creator!Reader

Dainseif, Diluc, Kaeya & Venti

Albedo's part here > ♡

Dainseif - What does freedom really mean, when demanded of you by a god?

"Please, come to me" you simply said, your voice echoing not only in the room, but also in his mind. Dainsleif doesn't hesitate for a moment.

He stands and crosses the distance between you without a second thought. His every movement is graceful and elegant. He would move through the ocean if it meant he could hold your gaze just a moment longer.

Now that he is close, he kneels once more. He wants to be on your level, he wants to be near you. "I am here, Your Grace." He stays on his knees, silent, waiting for you. If you want him to move, he will; if you want him to speak, he will; if you want him to simply be here, just within your presence— he will.

"Dain?" It only takes your utterance, your voice, for his head to snap in your direction.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"You're my good boy aren't you?" The words are music to Dainsleif's ears. He loves nothing more than to hear you call him something so loving. "Yes," he whispers, the word a breath of reverence. "I am your good boy."

"And why are you my good boy?" His cheeks flush as he looks up to you, eyes glowing like a star. His lashes flutter against his cheeks as the thought of being your good boy floods him with happiness and contentment.

"Because I am yours and have always served you." His words are firm, with the certainty of one who has never strayed from his purpose.

"Mine?"

"Yes. I am yours."

"I exist to serve you, to serve your beauty, your kindness, and love." This is truth to Dainsleif. He cannot imagine himself being anything but yours. "And thats why youre my good boy, Dainsleif" "Yes, Your Grace." He smiles at you, joy and contentment overflowing inside of him.

"I am happy to be your good boy. I am proud and eager to serve you, to honor and adore you." His expression is loving, warm, and peaceful. Dainsleif stays on his knees, head cocked to the side. His blue eyes are shining with love and affection. "What would you like me to do for you?" He asks, eager to serve you with all his heart.

"I want you to stay with me forever..." "I would love to stay with you, Your Grace." Dainsleif would die a hundred mortal deaths if it meant living in your presence for even an hour. The very thought of being near you stirs something inside him; his heart leaps into the sky, his breath catches in his throat.

He is entirely devoted to you.

Diluc - Though it is still not enough, I will always face the darkness.

"Please, step a bit closer to me" such a simple request it is but your command startles him. He looks up at you, and his eyes go wide. He is utterly taken aback, but that is not an excuse. He is yours to command.Diluc complies, and steps closer to your side.

"Are you my good boy, Diluc?"

"Y-yes," he responds at once. He bows his head as he speaks but, if it were possible, he bows even further. His heart is thumping against his chest as if it wants to jump free. He is utterly devoted to you. Every inch of him yours. "I'm sorry i didnt quite heard you, could you repeat that?" You're teasing him, how could you not? Diluc is more than embarrassed, but it is not his will to refuse you. He is yours, after all.

"Y-yes," he says, and his voice breaks slightly from the embarrassment.

"Once more, please, for me?" the opportunity is to good to let it slide. "Yes!" he says once more, and the blush on his face spreads throughout his body. Embarrassed, thats what he is, embarrassed. Your smile alone makes his stomach jump like it's trying to escape. He cannot understand how you make him feel this way.

He is still shy about this ordeal, but he knows that he cannot look away. He is there to serve you, after all. "Good boy~

"Diluc smiles despite himself at your praise. He knows better than to be happy at this moment, but some part of him thrills at the feeling of your gaze on his skin. His heart has a mind of its own, however, and it seems like it knows no boundaries. "Thank you," he says, and bows his head yet again. His embarrassment remains, but it is balanced with the thrill of your praise.

Your good boy...

Kaeya - Life's greatest illusions are the ones we believe in ourselves

"Kaeya?" Kaeya glances up at you, but he doesn't move from his comfortable position— at least, not yet. In fact, he appears to have become more comfortable, resting his head against your thighs and taking small, deep breaths. He stares down at you and smiles, seemingly amused by the situation. "I'm not moving," he mutters. "I'm perfectly comfortable here."

"Oh? Is my good boy all comfy?" "...Mhm." Kaeya's smile is genuine. With one hand, he reaches up, brushing his thumb against your cheek. "...I love you, Your Grace." Please let me stay here. I don't ever want to leave.

Hes so enchanted by your presence alone, he seemed to not process every word you say. Kaeya takes them as they are..."Did you hear me? I said youre my good boy" You're just checking, thats what youre telling yourself. But und truth, you just want to see a reaction, hear how his voice changes with realization.

"Of course I'm your good boy." Kaeya closes his eyes now, nuzzling himself against your legs. "No one else could be, after all. They don't worship you like I do."

"Your devotion's a gift, you know." Kaeya's tone is one of playful teasing, though the compliment is very much sincere. "You know I wouldn't let anyone else here give me physical affection, but for you, I make an exception. Why? Well, for one thing, you're deserving of it." You notice that Kaeya's leg is twitching— he wants to move, but it's as if he physically can't manage it. This may just be the most comfortable Kaeya's ever been, even if he can't say it out loud.

"Isn't my boy nice, huh?" "What can I say? I'm at your service... always." Kaeya's grip tightens about your thighs slightly. "Your approval means the world to me... I'd do anything to keep in your good graces."

He pauses for a moment, his expression becoming almost solemn. "...You know what I most desire, Your Grace?" Kaeya keeps his eyes shut, as though he's ashamed to speak."I would very much like to be yours," he says quietly.

"I want you to choose me."

Venti - Videtis illam spirare libertatis auram

"Yes, your Grace."

Venti complies instantly, quickly moving to sit down on the seat beside you. As soon as his body settles down, he starts idly swinging his legs up and down as if he's a toddler waiting for his mother to take him to the playground.He doesn't say a word, instead contenting himself with simply smiling up at you.

"Good boy" such small words, but they hold a way bigger meaning behind them. As Venti hears your praise, he almost falls into a completely euphoric state. He is practically quivering with excitement, unable to control his emotions for even a second longer. He starts muttering to himself, unable to comprehend what he is feeling in the presence of your grace.

"Please— please, don't call me a good boy again... please, please, make me yours..." Venti flushes pinker than a rose. "I— I meant your worshipful servant!" His eyes are fixed on you adoringly and desperately.

"Your dog, even!" Venti is too lost in the moment to realize how awkward his words were, and he starts desperately scrambling to come up with something even more degrading to call himself.

"Your footstool, even! Your carpet, your chair! Even your floor...!" His words are garbled and desperate, his mind completely blank right now. "But Venti, you're my good boy, not my chair or my floor...my good boy"

Venti's eyes widen as he hears your words. His face is still bright red, but your praise is enough to make him lightheaded. "Am I— am I your good boy.." he mumbles quietly, but he sounds genuinely baffled. "Are you sure..?"

"Yes" Venti is practically panting with excitement now, having gotten the confirmation that he is yours. "Y— you really mean it.." Even when he speaks quietly, you can hear the excitement in his voice, the thrill in his heart.

"Then I really am your good boy, aren't I...?"

"Yes"

"Then I will do my best to be the very best good boy for you, your Grace," Venti whispers reverently.

Even in his excitement, Venti remains reverent towards you. To be your good boy... He can't think of anything he wants more.

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ddejavvu · 8 months

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I don't know if you're taking requests right now so if you aren't just ignore this, BUT if you are...

Imagine Hotch getting a call from babysitter reader where Jack is in the ER cause he sprained his ankle and, obviously Aaron is a little upset and worried. But when he gets to the ER he sees that reader is an absolute wreck of tears and snot and she rambling on and on about how sorry she is and how she never meant to let Jack get hurt. And Aaron's looking at her like 'omg she's so adorable when she's a mess'. So he calms her down and they go to Jack and Aaron sees that Jack isn't even crying he's just sitting in the bed with a lollipop and a wrap on his ankle. And now Hotch is trying not to laugh at reader for so ridiculously overreacting.

And you can finish it. I know it's a long ask but it's been in my head for a while and it would be such a pleasure and honor for you to make the drabble come true. 😘 love YOU and all your work!!!!!

Aaron's been repeating the phrase sprained ankle in his head over and over since he'd gotten the call from the hospital, but now he's wondering if Jack has since been crushed by some wayward hospital machinery when he spots you hunched over in the waiting room, sobbing into your hands. Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron gravitates towards you rather than the door behind you, letting his shoes click audibly against the linoleum flooring to alert you of his presence.

"Y/N," He calls, and your head shoots out of your hands, your legs trembling as you stand to greet him. You're a wreck, eyes puffy and red and nose dripping obscenely despite the tissues in your hands.

"Mr. Hotchner, I'm so sorry," You gush, and he doesn't hesitate to take you into his arms, voice soothing as he shushes you, "I- I swear I was watching him, but he wanted- he wanted me to wait at the other end of the slide, so when he fell I wasn't close enough to catch him, and he- he- I'm so sorry!"

"I know," He hums, "It's alright. It's not your fault, he's a kid. He gets scrapes and bruises all the time. Where is he?"

"In there," You gladly accept his embrace, even if you don't particularly feel deserving of it, and you jerk your thumb towards the door behind you, "I'm not family, so they won't let me in. They need you to sign paperwork."

Aaron's mouth twists down in a displeased frown, and he makes a mental note to ensure you're on file as one of Jack's emergency contact. Jessica is the only person besides himself that he's added, but in case of any future incidents, he wants you to be able to stay with Jack.

"Come with me," He only withdraws one arm from around your shoulders, keeping the other draped across your shivering frame to keep you steady, "Let's go see him, honey. It's okay, I'm not upset with you, okay? It's not your fault."

"But- but I should have-" You press, but Aaron cuts off your babbling before you can whip yourself up into another tearful frenzy.

"Did you push him?"

You rear back, aghast, "No!" and Aaron has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling at the indignation in your eyes. For you to love his son so fiercely as to be offended by such a notion only reinforces his confidence in you as a caretaker.

"Well then, it's not your fault. He almost got a concussion on my watch, you know."

You swallow a sob, composing yourself as he walks through the doorway, pointedly dragging you along with him despite the nurse's suspicious look.

"Really?" You ask, and Aaron nods.

"I was making dinner, and I called him in from the living room. But I'd left my computer charging on the desk, and the cord was on the carpet, and he tripped over it and smacked his head against the wood floor."

You wince at the story, and Aaron internally does the same, remembering the sickening crack of his son's head against the flooring, "It was scary. And that was my fault, I left the cord out."

"But you didn't mean for him to trip over it," You muse, letting Aaron guide you through the hallway towards the room that the nurse had directed him to over the phone, "It wasn't your fault."

"And neither was this," Aaron concludes, stopping in front of door 208, "Ready?"

Your shoulders sag at his artful storytelling skills, and you nod, wiping your hands once more over your eyes. It doesn't do much for your runny nose, and Aaron takes his pocket square from his suit, holding the back of your neck and persisting even when you try to squirm away.

"Aaron- no!" You protest, trying to dodge his grip to no avail. Your words are muffled as he smears the fabric under your nose, "You'll ruin the material!"

"Jack gets macaroni and cheese fingerprints on my suits all the time," Aaron grumbles, his grip firm and tight on the back of your neck, "It's nothing my dry cleaners can't fix."

When he's satisfied that you're as cleaned up as you can manage, he tucks the square back into his pocket, unphased by the grimace you shoot him. The echo of his hand on the back of your neck is still present as he knocks on the door, and he's pleasantly surprised when Jack himself opens the door, his ankle wrapped with a bandage.

"Hi, Daddy!" He grins at Aaron, lips stained red with the remnants of a cherry sucker, "Hi Y/N! You look sad."

"I am sad," You supply feebly, eyeing his ankle warily, "Are you okay, buddy?"

"Mhm!" Jack nods, letting his dad push the door open and guide you inside the room, "The doctor says I can still walk on it, I just hav'ta rest a lot."

The doctor, perched on a stool inside the room, nods with a fond smile at Jack, "That's right. He needs to walk on it for it to recover, but he shouldn't overextend himself. thirty minutes to an hour of exercise each day should do the trick."

"Thank you, doctor." Aaron nods, "Is he free to go?"

"Yes, if you'll just sign these." The doctor pushes forth a modest stack of paperwork, maybe ten pages that Aaron hopes are mainly spots for signatures, "I need to attend to my next patient, so I'll send my nurse in to collect those in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Aaron nods, and you bid the doctor the same thanks as he takes his leave, lingering by the doorway until Jack takes your hand.

"The doctor said to give you this," Jack digs into the pocket of his plaid shorts, pulling out a green lollipop, "He said he saw you crying in the waiting room. Were you crying in the waiting room?"

"I was," You try to smile, but Aaron can tell with only a quick glance at you that you're fighting back tears again, "I was worried about you, Jack. It's okay, you can have the lollipop."

"No, it's for you." Jack insists, and Aaron watches your trembling lips pull into a smile as Jack pushes you over to a chair against the wall, herding you into the seat. You let him direct you into the middle seat, but he bypasses the seats on either side of you to climb right into your lap.

"Here," His tiny fingers pry at the plastic wrapping of the sucker, "I can open it for you."

Aaron doesn't have to look up again from the paperwork he's signing to know there's fondness written all over your face, he can hear it in your shaky, 'Thanks, buddy'. He knows it's there because he can feel the same thing in his own chest, and he doesn't bother trying to keep it off of his face as it flowers equally abundant for both you and his son.

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say-al0e · 25 days

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Casual

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Steve Harrington has always been kind of an asshole and you've always been kind of in love with him. But a lifetime of friendship doesn't mean either of you are ready for something more than a casual fling because there's nothing scarier than vulnerability, even in Hawkins. [Set between seasons 2 and 3] Warnings: Car sex, requited unrequited love, unprotected PinV, mentions of cheating (parents, Carol; not Steve or Reader). Pairing: Steve Harrington x rich girl!Reader (briefly mentioned but important, off-screen Eddie Munson x rich girl!Reader) Word Count: 5.6k

Steve Harrington was kind of an asshole.

For as long as you’d known him, he’d been a bit of a dick. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, depending on who you asked, you’d known him your entire life. You grew up together, neighbors, with parents who, in their own way, were best friends - if either of your parents were capable of such a thing as friendship. And because of that, you saw a side of Steve that few others had ever witnessed.

There were moments where you saw the softness, the honeyed sweetness, that shimmered through the cracks in the facade he crafted for himself - beneath the hair and the smirk and the snarky quips. Moments where the real Steve, a tender-hearted, well-intentioned sweetheart who was always on the verge of getting it right but never quite managed to make it, lurked beneath the heavy crown he wore.

Just as there were moments when he saw beneath your own carefully crafted persona. He was the only only person who had ever seen the worry, the sadness, the deep-rooted yearning for something more that was buried beneath your walls of ice. He saw every impossibly strong, deeply felt emotion that lingered beneath your careful composure, your even stoicism. He saw the real you, not just the Ice Queen cloaked in department store dresses and expensive perfume.

Only, neither of you acknowledged those moments.

It was an unspoken pact, one you’ve honored since thirteen when you both realized that being popular meant more than being nice. You both pretended that you were still the same vapid rich kids you’d always been, unburdened by a world built to cater to you.

Even if that was no longer true. Even if it hadn’t been true in a very long time.

Either way, you didn’t mention his newfound soft spot for a strange, ragtag group of children and he didn’t mention the fact that he knew the hickey just beneath your jaw was from none other than Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson.

Just as you had nearly every weekend for the past six months, the pair of you sat in the backseat of his BMW after yet another party that neither of you particularly wanted to attend. It had long ago gotten old, pretending to enjoy the self-involved prattling of your former classmates - their bragging about taking on the family business or which colleges they’d be attending in the fall, snide remarks about Steve’s lack of direction while conveniently ignoring the fact that you were the only one with an Ivy acceptance - and you couldn’t help yourself as you huffed.

“Tommy and Carol are the worst. I swear, if I have to hear her bitch about his inability to make her come or him make another stupid fucking dick joke, I’m gonna scream.”

For as long as you could remember, you’d wanted to tell them both to fuck off, to disappear back into whatever hole they’d managed to claw their way out of, but Steve reveled in their following, once upon a time, anyway. Now, he looked almost resigned to their existence in your lives as he frowned.

“She told you that?”

“Won’t stop telling me that,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as his hand fell to your thigh, fingers idly tracing the bare skin just beneath the hem of your skirt. “I would tell her to break up with him but, honestly, they totally deserve each other. May they spend the rest of their lives making each other completely fucking miserable.”

It was only in these moments, hidden away in the thick of the trees near Lover’s Lake, that any glimpse of your real selves began to emerge. Your annoyed huffing, directed at the awful people you found yourself surrounded by, and Steve’s tender touch as he shifted closer and carefully brushed a lock of hair from your neck. Neither of you mentioned it, too lost in your own little world, but it never escaped either of your notice.

Still, Steve hummed dutifully. “Totally,” he agreed, “told him she cheated on him with Billy but he called me a liar.” He paused for a moment, shifted just a touch closer - his jean covered leg pressing into yours, body warm even in the cool air conditioning - before he changed the subject by asking, “New perfume?”

“Everyone knows about her and Billy. But, like, who hasn’t Billy fucked at this point.” Steve leaned in, nosed at the curve of your jaw, and you hummed. “Mom brought it back from that last conference they went to. Said I needed something more mature before I leave for school.” You left out the part of the conversation where she went on for nearly an hour about how much of a waste it was for you to even consider college in the first place when you were meant to marry someone of status - someone like Steve - and tilted your head to allow him more room.

“Smells good,” he complimented. “Like oranges or something.”

“Or something,” you mumbled agreeably, shifting against the seat to make yourself more comfortable as he began to press his mouth to the sensitive skin of your throat. “What’re you doin’, Stevie?”

“Giving you the attention you deserve,” he answered, never missing a beat and only pausing to nip at the pulse point. “Can’t have you unfucked in this skirt. That’d be criminal.”

As if he sought to make a point, Steve’s hand began to drift higher up your thigh, fingers traveling a well-worn path and ghosting over bruises left in his wake after last Saturday’s party at his own home. Again, he decidedly avoided the few extra spots that lined your thighs - the bite mark he would see when you parted your legs, in the shape of a certain metalhead’s teeth, and the hickey you’d been left with at the juncture of your thighs - as you laughed.

“Should call Hawkins’s finest,” you teased, grinning when Steve huffed a laugh.

“They’d send Callahan,” he mused as his fingers dug into the plush of your thigh and pulled you closer, encouraging you to climb onto his lap. “Would love to see him try to figure out what to do with you.”

“And you know what to do with me?”

Steve’s smirk was obvious, clear even as he nipped at your skin. “‘Course I do,” he assured you, settling back against the plush of the seat as you shifted in the small space and settled on his lap. “I know exactly what to do with you.”

“Prove it.”

The challenge hung in the air for a moment, thick even in the cool interior of his car, and gave you the briefest respite to study him. Soft brown eyes were blown black with lust, a darkness that you sometimes found yourself grateful for the chance to witness, and his hair had begun falling in his eyes. His cheeks were tinged pink and you knew that his lips would follow soon.

Steve was beautiful, a work of art in the dim moonlight, and your heart beat just a touch too fast for something that was supposed to be casual as you waited for him to take the bait.

Before you could tease, attempt to bring some levity back into the moment that suddenly seemed too intense, Steve’s large hand found the back of your head. He pulled you in with a practiced ease, a touch that betrayed just how comfortable you were with one another, and pressed his mouth to yours.

Whereas Steve’s facade was all flash, easy confidence with nothing to prove, his kiss was almost desperate. There was the knowledge that he was good - he’d earned it, sought to learn exactly what you liked and adapted quickly - but beneath that, there was a desire to make the moment everything you could want. He kissed you with an urgency you could never quite understand, almost as if he wanted to savor the moment because he feared it may never happen again, but you knew that couldn’t be true.

As reticent as you both were to delve into your true selves - into your true feelings - you knew that this would happen time and again. It would happen until one of you inevitably broke the other’s heart, and maybe even after.

Still, Steve kissed your with more passion than you ever could’ve expected.

From your position on his lap, skirt bunched around your waist and hands falling into his hair, you could feel the growing bulge in his jeans. There was a slight rocking of his hips, something you might’ve dismissed as an attempt to get comfortable if you didn’t know him so well, and you still managed to find yourself surprised by just how much the little things turned him on.

“Girls like you,” he rasped, breaking the kiss before you could even think to, “just need to be fucked dumb. Be all pretty and cock drunk. Made into that pretty little trophy wife you swear you’d hate to be.”

The way he spoke was so casually condescending, a little mean in the way he’d discovered you liked, and you felt your cheeks heat as you squirmed on his lap. He knew - knew that your mother hated your ambition, swore you were purposely sabotaging her attempts to marry you off, including the few attempts she’d made with him - and smirked when you shot him a half-hearted glare.

“You can pout all you want, but that’s what you need, right?” His hands fell to your thighs, raking up the soft skin as your own tangled in his hair and tugged. “To be taken care of, to be fucked like you deserve.”

“Don’t think some hotshot husband would care enough to fuck me like that,” you countered, swallowing hard in an attempt to maintain your composure as his fingers trailed higher. “Would never come. He’d be too focused on fucking the secretary ‘cause she won’t be upset when he gets off and she doesn’t. But that’s why the trophy wives fuck the pool boys and tennis coaches, I guess.”

Steve hummed his understanding - had his own firsthand knowledge of both your father’s affairs, knew just what kind of men he was surrounded by now that he was old enough - before tipping his chin to glance up at you. “Guess you’ll have to look harder to find someone worth your time, then. ‘Cause this pussy’s too good to be wasted on some dickhead who won’t appreciate it.”

“Steve.” His name came out softer than you intended, a near breathless sort of whine that betrayed you - more than the growing patch of slick clearly visible against the light pink fabric of your panties - and he hummed.

“Don’t worry, babe. You know I’ll take care of you.” Though Steve could be an asshole when he wanted, he was nothing but a giver when he settled between your thighs. There were moments where you worried, secretly feared this might be the moment he decided to be selfish and leave you hanging, but more often than not, you were the one to tap out first. And any argument you could’ve formed died on your lips as he ordered, “Just shut up and sit pretty for me, yeah?”

Despite yourself - despite the part of your brain that wanted you to argue, to fight back and tell him to go fuck himself - you melted into his touch as his fingers ghosted over the fabric between your thighs. You heard him sigh, felt the warmth of his breath fanning over your mouth as he refused to put more space than necessary between you, as his gaze met yours.

“Next time, I’m fucking you in my bed,” he decided, gaze flicking back to where his fingers hooked into the soft material and dragged it to the side. “Can’t taste you the way I want in here.”

“Can’t keep saying shit like that,” you mumbled, nails biting into his skin as you gripped his shoulder to keep yourself upright. “Gonna make me think you actually like eating pussy.”

“I do,” he admitted, grinning when you rolled your eyes. “Like eating yours the best, though.”

With that, Steve’s fingers swiped through the slick gathered between your thighs. His thumb caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves and his mouth returned to yours, eagerly swallowing the soft noise of surprised pleasure you released.

Each swipe of his fingers was easy, almost lazy. There was a practiced ease there, a lover’s knowledge of your body - absent any of the almost nervous exploration of the first time - and you forced yourself not to think too hard about that fact as his tongue swiped at the seam of your lips.

The small space was cramped, not the easiest to maneuver, but it was familiar.

Though sometimes familiarity equated to boredom, routine, Steve’s touch was anything but. Every swipe of his fingers through your folds, every brush of his thumb over the aching bundle of nerves, was electrifying. He had you teetering on the verge of begging, eager for him in a way you’d never been for anyone else - almost anyone else - and you knew he could tell as he finally gave you something more.

Two thick fingers, skilled and steady, pressed into you. They stretched you - never quite enough to fully prepare you for the impressive length hidden beneath the denim you knew you were soaking through - in a way that had your breath catching in your throat and your heart hammering in your chest. Steve knew exactly where to press, fingers finding that one spot that made you see stars, and you could feel the twitch of his mouth as he refused to allow you to pull away from the kiss entirely.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, tone so smug it made you realize why so many were eager to brand him an asshole. “C’mon, babe, the sooner you let go, the sooner I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Despite your conflicting emotions - the desire to hit him, to call him an asshole and tell him to just get on with it; the desire to kiss him, to tell him that you only wanted this, him for the rest of your life - you settled for the middle ground and allowed yourself to sink into his touch.

Those murmurs of encouragement, almost reverent in a way that you hoped no one else had ever heard, had your mind blanking and your chest heaving as you focused solely on the press of his fingers. His pace was perfect, steady and even and never too much - always too much, always enough to make you wonder how you ever thought you could be fine with losing this someday - and you would’ve told him as much if you were capable of speaking without admitting that you were afraid you could love him for the rest of your life.

Instead, you settled for sinking your nails into his shoulder, for tugging at the soft strands of his hair, as he nipped at your skin. He sucked a mark just beneath the one you knew he’d seen, despite your attempt at concealing it, and that was enough to throw you over the edge.

Steve once admitted to loving the noises you made, promised they turned him on rather than weirded him out - something you only admitted when he asked why you were so quiet, refused to let you come until you explained yourself - and you knew you wouldn’t have been able to quiet yourself even if you’d tried as his fingers worked you through the first orgasm of the night.

Knowing him, Steve wouldn’t stop until he had you desperate - he liked to see your tears, watery eyes and mascara running as you finally let down the walls he’d only glimpsed behind - and that seemed to be the case as he resumed his pace the moment your breathing began to even.

“Steve,” you huffed, your best attempt at something resembling normal, though you could hear the whining edge to your tone. “Fuck me,” you demanded, or at least attempted to. “Fill me up. So big, always feel so full when you’re inside.”

It was a low blow, an attempt to appeal to his ego - exaggerated, though it was true; he was the biggest you’d ever had - and he rolled his eyes as he nipped at your bottom lip.

“So fucking impatient,” he huffed, though he gave in, just as he always did. “Such a spoiled brat.”

With a tap to your thigh, you shifted. You held yourself upright, knees digging into the soft cushions of the seat, long enough for him to unbutton his jeans and shift his hips. As you had every time you found yourself in this situation, which was more often than not lately, you watched with wide eyes and bated breath as he freed himself from the confines of too-tight denim.

For years, you wondered why so many girls flocked to Steve when they knew how things would end. You wondered why anyone gave him a chance, why anyone came back when he forgot to call or blew them off for someone else, but you understood now. The look of him, the weight and feel of his cock in your hand as you reached out and swiped at the pearl of precum beading at the tip, was almost answer enough. The effort he put in to make you feel as if you were the only person that mattered, as if your pleasure were more important than his, quelled the rest of your doubt.

When you lifted your hand to your mouth, lapped the bead from your thumb and hummed, Steve groaned.

“Fucking tease.” There was no bite, no venom, to the words, but you still bit back your grin as he reached for your hip with one hand and held the base of his cock with the other. He dragged you closer, settled you firmly on his lap and swiped the tip of his cock through your folds, as he tipped his chin in a silent request for you to return your mouth to his.

As you pressed your lips to his, he used the grip on your hip to drag your hips down. It was swift, faster than he’d ever gone and almost desperate in the way he pulled you in, but you reveled in the slight pinch as he stretched you open.

There was something so overwhelming about feeling Steve so close, about having him in the way you dreamt of when you first realized how you felt about him, but you did your best to swallow the sudden lump in your throat as your eyes fell shut and your lips parted.

The pace always varied with Steve. Some nights were hard and fast, usually when you were both wound up after a particularly rough night; others were soft and slow, when the emotion began to overwhelm you, when the desperate need to be close outweighed the potential damage a confession might bring. And others still were somewhere in between, teasing and playful; an alternation between soft and hard, slow and quick - a way for him to make you beg, to bring you out of your head and into the moment.

Tonight was no different.

Though you sat atop him, Steve did all the work. His hips snapped, cock pressing into you with every movement, as his hands dragged you down. He controlled the pace, controlled the moment, and you allowed yourself to be fully present.

There was no facade in these moments, no pretending to be anything other than you were, and you imagined that was why you both returned time and again. This was Steve - giving, eager, desperate to be good enough. And you were just as present, just as honest; soft, pliant, warm and overjoyed that he still wanted you despite the surface ice that froze most others out.

Neither of you could pretend here, with nothing between you but a few pesky articles of clothing. Neither of you wanted to.

And you knew, as your mouth returned to his, that despite the rough snap of his hips and the bruising grip he held on your hip, that your kiss betrayed you. Each swipe of your tongue, each breathless gasp you allowed him to swallow, told him exactly what he needed to know.

When his hand fell between your thighs, thumb pressing to the aching bundle of nerves, your mind went blank and your thoughts revolved solely around the beautiful brunette beneath you.

The curve of his jaw, the warmth of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the plush of his lips; Steve, Steve, Steve, was all that existed in your mind. The drag of his cock, filling you so perfectly that it almost seemed as if he were a missing piece, designed especially for you, was all that existed. And just as he wanted, it left you pliant in his hands.

“There we go,” he groaned, voice softer than you imagined he intended, as a hand lifted to your cheek. “Look at that, givin’ you what you need, hm?” When you moaned your agreement, lips pursing in a silent request for him to kiss you, Steve smiled. “Look pretty like this. Soft and fucked out for me. I’m the only one that can make you feel like this, yeah?”

It was the first confirmation that he knew, that he cared more than you thought he might, about the other man in your life. And though you wanted to tease him, to poke and prod and be a bit of a bitch about it, you could only moan your agreement.

Eddie was good, was more than enough, but there was something about Steve.

“Prove it,” he demanded, voice only just beginning to show his exertion as his hips snapped a little harder. “Come for me, babe. Show me how good I make you feel.”

As was beginning to become a habit, you gave in to him without so much as an attempt otherwise. The press of his fingers to your aching clit, the rough snap of his hips, the warmth of his breath fanning over your sweat slick skin; all of it was too much, just enough, to send you barreling over the edge for a second time.

With a cry of his name, keening and louder than you intended, you came and Steve followed shortly after. You could feel the warmth of his spend, the twitch of his cock, as you settled for a long moment, and felt the tears stinging at the backs of your eyes.

Without so much as a second though, Steve lifted a hand to brush at your cheeks, careful not to press too hard, and swiped away the few that had fallen before he pressed a kiss to your cheek and shot you a teasing wink.

“Love it when you cry for me, babe,” he teased, though you wondered if he’d have the same reaction if he knew the tears were, at least in part, caused by the overwhelming flurry of emotion that had you questioning everything you knew. “Seeing the Ice Queen melt never gets old.”

“You’re such a dick, Stevie.” The huff was as playful as you could manage with your breath still coming in short pants and your stomach churning with emotion but he grinned just the same as he helped you off his lap.

“Think you mean, ‘you have such a great dick, Stevie’.” When you rolled your eyes, straightening out your clothes and attempting to smooth your hair, he laughed. “Oh, c’mon, not gonna say thank you for the incredible orgasms? Your parents raised you better than that, babe.”

“They raised me better than to fuck some rich asshole in the backseat of his car, but, here we are.” Steve followed your lead and began to straighten himself out, zipped his jeans and at least pretended not to stare as you settled your panties back into place, the fabric immediately darkening with his spend. “Speaking of, you should probably get me home, Romeo. It’s past curfew.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Steve simply tugged you back into his side, hand cradling your jaw as you both attempted to catch your breath.

The lie was obvious - your parents didn’t care very much how late you stayed out, even less when you were with Steve - and you knew that he knew who would be waiting for you to return home. However, you didn’t expect him to ask.

Steve’s touch was soft, though you could see the distaste in the set of his mouth as his fingers brushed the two marks beneath your jaw - one fresh and one fading. “What’re you doin’ with the freak, anyway?” He’d never asked, neither of you made it a habit to pry into the other’s personal life, but he seemed unable to help himself as he continued. “You know you could just buy weed, right? You don’t have to fuck him for it.”

“I don’t smoke,” you reminded him, rolling your eyes even as you leaned into his touch. “Dunno,” you shrugged, avoiding his gaze as your hands worried with the hem of your skirt. “He’s exciting. Well, not really,” you amended because he wasn’t, “but he’s different. He’s just… Eddie. Doesn’t try to be something he’s not.” The slight was unintentional but you caught Steve’s slight wince, even as you barreled on. “And, I mean, it totally pisses off my dad every time he sees Eddie sneaking out because the guy’s a total fucking klutz and can’t leave without waking up half the neighborhood.” Steve scoffed, though you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it as he quickly covered the sound with a clearing of his throat before you added, as an afterthought, “And he listens to me. Not, like, pretends to.”

“I listen to you.”

While it wasn’t a lie - Steve listened, retained whatever you told him - neither of you were ever particularly honest with one another. Your conversations were never as serious as the ones you shared with Eddie, never as deep. For someone you considered your best friend, Steve barely knew anything about the real you. Though, that was as much your fault as it was his.

There was always a fear, deep and unfounded, that he might not like the real you. That if you were honest, that if you allowed him to see you for who you really were, that he might hate you. That he might leave. With Eddie, that didn’t matter very much. He was fun, a distraction, a taste of something forbidden and a glimpse into another life, but he was temporary. He could leave at any time, decide he didn’t like the real you and it might hurt for a moment but you would get over it quick.

With Steve, it was your biggest fear.

Thinking that he might not like the real you, that he might suddenly change his mind and decide the real you wasn’t worth his time, was a fear that felt almost paralyzing. Steve’s opinion mattered, more than anyone else’s, so you held tight to the person you’d always been - the one he’d always at least tolerated - and never breathed so much as a word to the contrary.

Regardless, you humored him. “You do,” you agreed, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from his eyes. “But you kinda have to. And you also moaned Nancy’s name the first time we fucked so, like, that sorta cancels out some of the good stuff.” Steve flustered, cheeks flashing neon pink as he recalled the moment - a drunken hookup soon after his breakup, the first of what would become a regular occurrence - but before he could defend himself, you asked, “How’s that going, by the way? You figure out how to get her back from the creep?”

Steve shook his head, then, and sighed as he admitted, “Don’t think I even want to, anymore. Think I was just… She was right, maybe. We were kind of bullshit.”

The resigned misery in his voice was obvious, still upset by the hurtful declaration of a girl you knew he’d loved - in his own way, anyway - and you sighed as you rested your head against the seat cushion. “All of this is bullshit,” you shrugged. “High school, Hawkins, Indiana; none of it means anything.”

“We don’t mean anything?” Despite his best attempt at nonchalance, Steve sounded almost heartbroken - devastated to hear yet another person who meant something to him declare that he meant nothing - and you sighed as you grabbed the hand that rested on your thigh.

“You know I hate sentimentality,” you mumbled, unable to look him in the eye, “but you’re the only thing worth anything in my whole life. You could never be bullshit. Annoying, totally, but not bullshit. Never bullshit.”

There was a brief pause, a moment in which you both felt the weight of you admission pressing on your chests - stealing what little air seemed to remain in the car, windows still fogged and radio still playing too softly to really hear - before Steve swallowed. “You know I…” He cut himself off, paused and seemed to think better of voicing the thought aloud, before he asked, “You know, right?”

‘I love you,’ went unspoken, as it always had. It lingered, just beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to crack the ice and set it free. You knew, just as Steve did, that you were in something like love. Maybe not a love that would last forever, maybe not even a love that was ever meant to be, but it was there.

Warm, shiny and bright, and just waiting for you to stop pretending that things between you had ever been casual.

So, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you assured him, reaching for his hand to squeeze it gently. “I know. Me, too.”

Silence fell, then, thick and suffocating. It filled the interior of his car with a bitter chill and it struck you just how new that feeling was. It made you wonder what a future might be like, if you had one at all, and you found yourself mildly horrified at the idea that you could end up as either set of your parents. There was no world in which you could see a future without Steve at least somewhere in your life but there was no happiness in a world in which you both continued to pretend.

Either way, you were both stuck - caught up in a never-ending performance, an act for an audience that only existed in your minds.

What began as something effortless, something casual, had become so complicated that you no longer felt certain of much beyond the understanding that you loved Steve. How - if you could love the real him, if you only loved the idea of him, if you loved the safety of him - was a question you had no answer to but before you could begin to even fathom it, the moment ended.

Steve pressed a final kiss to your mouth, bruising in a way that made your chest ache and your eyes sting with unshod tears, before he made his way to the driver’s seat.

And then, just as he had every night since he got his license, Steve drove you home. He pulled up to the door to let you out and didn’t mention the van he saw parked down the street. He squeezed your hand before you could step out into the night, three times in rapid succession, and lit a cigarette the moment you stepped out of the car.

King Steve wasn’t one to fall in love easily, neither was the Ice Queen. But Steve Harrington wore his heart on his sleeve and that heart beat for you. Despite the distractions, the desperate attempts at finding something so disconnected from the cushioned prison of his gilded cage, he knew that it had been you all along. And just as neither of you mentioned the real people beneath the personas, neither of you mentioned just how real the love you shared had grown.

Loving one another, allowing yourselves to be vulnerable - to reveal the deepest, darkest secrets - was terrifying. Both of you feared what the other might think of the truth that lay beneath the crown so you agreed, silently, that to pretend was better than to face rejection.

So, Steve drove the few streets that separated your neighborhood from his and let himself into the empty house that meant nothing when his true home was likely sliding open a window to allow the only person he’d ever seen as true competition inside. And he wondered when the love of his life became a casual fling, when you both resigned yourselves to pretending that neither of you deserved something real - something true, something happy. He wondered why he carried on with it, knowing that in a few short weeks you would be in Boston, knee-deep in a life you hated, while he was stuck in Hawkins, wishing he’d had the courage to be himself and that he’d asked for something more than casual.

There was no satisfactory answer, not if he really thought about it, so he decided not to.

The rest of the summer would be spent in the same way the last six months had. Steve would pretend to enjoy the parties and the attention of girls who only wanted him for his reputation. You would continue pretending that nothing fazed you, not even him. And things between you would remain casual.

And he supposed that was just the way it was meant to be.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note: Did you know there's a chance black beans will catch on fire in the microwave? 'Cause I didn't. Anyway. This was my first time writing 'King Steve' and I had so much fun. This was loosely inspired by Chappell Roan's Casual. And my love of both Steve and Eddie. :)

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff, @valthevalkyrie-main, @crying-caro, @inglourious-imagines

#stranger things smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #v's fics

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rockrosethistle · 16 days

Text

Workin Boys was literally the only thing that saved Hidgens from being flanderized beyond recognition

(Spoilers for Workin' Boys)

So what I think a lot of people don't give much thought to is how much Professor Hidgens as a character has evolved since tgwdlm, essentially becoming a parody of himself.

Think of Hidgens as a character. What are his defining traits?

Did you think about how he is a doomsday prepper who has been stockpiling supplies for 20 years? Because that's how he's introduced in Guy.

Did you try think about how he has a weird relationship with his Alexa? Or did we forget about that?

In fact, for the majority of TGWDLM, Hidgens' main character trait is that he says weird shit with a Doc Brown voice.

The whole concept of Workin Boys isn't even introduced until the last half hour of the show. That's where he reveals his real motivation: to live out the musical he wrote as a young man.

Actually, no, that's not right. Because his motivation was world peace, and Workin Boy's was just a convenient means to that end.

I won't disregard the fact that Hidgens clearly has an emotional connection to the show, but in Guy, it serves as a punchline rather than a driving force.

So now we have this lovely, morally-grey, multi-layered character that we can work with.

By the time we get to Time Bastard, the fandom is expecting a show stopping number reference, so of course we get that.

But at this point, Hidge is still that multi-layered character. Sure, showstopping number gets a callback, but we also get a callback to his strange relationship with robots. They make up an equal part of him as a character.

By the time we get to Honey Queen, we have lost several aspects of Hidgens altogether. He is no longer a doomsday-believing recluse. He is now active in the community and his only motivation is to get his show funded. He brings it up at every chance he gets, and his loyalties lie with whoever is more likely to make Workin Boys happen.

So how the hell do we come back from this?

Well, at first it seems like we're not going to. Workin' Boys (the short film) comes out, and it looks like we're leaning even harder into this aspect of his personality than before. But then we get hit with something we're not expecting: Hidge gets the Ted Spankoffski treatment.

I'm referring to Ted's backstory in Time Bastard, where we learn that all of his actions actually stem from a single, traumatic moment, which in his eyes forced him to alter his behaviour, so as to not go through the same trauma again.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

The backstory we get from Hidgens certainly puts things in perspective. No, it's not enough to explain why his behaviour has been so laser-focused on this one show, but it's a start.

Then comes the part that changes everything.

It's left up to interpretation whether these ghosts Hidge is seeing are actually there, or just hallucinations, but that doesn't really matter.

Hidgens had been through a horrible experience, so traumatizing that he is still literally being haunted by it decades later. For one reason or another, he believes that the only way he can relieve himself of these ghosts is by bringing honor to the loved ones he's lost and telling their stories.

This reveal recontextualizes everything we know about Hidgens as a character. Suddenly, this isn't a story about some guy who just really wants to put on his musical, this is a story about guilt. Of course it would be the driving factor in his life. Look at him apologizing to his boys. He feels like he is slandering their memories with everything that goes wrong for the show.

This is supported even more with the ending.

Henry Hidgens dies with a smile on his face, believing he's finally achieved his goal: to tell the real story of what happened that night.

It finally makes sense as to why we've lost those parts of him--we've retconned the character by revealing that all that simplification of his goals and traits wasn't flanderization at all, but a steady downward spiral of grief over his loved ones. It wasn't Hidgens getting a little too into being a playwrite, it was him descending into madness caused by the inability to please the part of himself (or the literal ghosts, if that's how you interpret it) that believes he's not doing enough.

And if not for Workin' Boys, he would have remained that one-dimensional character.

#starkid #hatchetfield #npmd #tgwdlm #hatchetverse #team starkid #professor hidgens #henry hidgens #jeff blim #nightmare time #nightmare time 2 #nmt #nmt2 #character analysis #analysis #rose rabbles #honey queen #time bastard #the guy who didn't like musicals

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 10 months

Note

Hi! Love your posts. Can you write crush headcanons for each of the turtles, like how they develop it, how they may act around them, and maybe ask them out? Thank you! Hope you have a great day!

TMNT crush headcanons:

Leonardo:

• Leo developes slow but meaningful crushes! He's very careful, and guarded of his feelings similar to Raph, but in his own way. His crush starts with feeling inspired by his person of interest, someone who makes him want to better himself in any way by either observing their passions, talents, and skills, or who encourages his limits to discover his own.

• He's thoughtful but very subtle about his affections towards someone, he doesn't exactly want them to know

• Observant, attentive, and a classic romantic is how he is—that last part, in his fantasies, at least. He dreams about being able to provide everything his crush could want or need, even though he can't always do so due to how they live

• Leo asks his crush out after a series of escalating gestures of love so it doesn't really catch them off guard. Asks them to meet him alone to talk because he has something important to say, and then makes the confession.

• "I know you have to know what I'm going to say, you're nervous, I can tell...I probably shouldn't have been so cryptic when I asked you to meet me in the dojo by yourself." He softens his posture a bit, to seem less tense. He'd lit several dozen candles scattered all over the room, partially for himself while he meditated to calm his mind a little, mostly to create an atmosphere. "You've become a close friend of mine despite everything, you know you're always welcome in our home, right? And you can come whenever." There's an awkward pause—he doesn't know how to continue with what he's saying. "Ah, anyways—I was saying...I enjoy your company, I would be honored to show you some stuff I know, in exchange for some of your time. Only if you'd like." God, he hoped that you would.

Michelangelo:

• Mikey couldn't hide his growing feelings, even if he wanted to. And it didn't take much for him to fall fast and hard for his crush; the attention he got was addictive and he wanted to give it back tenfold! He always wanted to feel wanted and accepted by others, so even though he couldn't have that from the rest of the human world, the fact that he had that from you was more than enough for him. He was grateful.

• He's his crush's biggest fan!! If there were merch, he'd wear it proudly even if it embarrassed you

• Creative and artistic; he painted and redesigned one of his old longboards just for you. It had some of his old pop-art on it, graffiti style, random sketches and doodles, and every sticker he could find. He tried to remember everything you liked to put it on the things he gave you, whether it were poster collages he made for his wall art or putting love onto the bottom of a skateboard. Big gift giver, so expect to get a LOT of stuff from him—even sentimental items he's nostalgic over, even if you feel bad to receive those things from him. He has a lot to give. 😌

• Mikey confesses by accident one day when he doesn't even mean to—he's playing around with you as usual and gets talkative when he's feeling excited, so it just slips out. Mid-play.

• "Ha-hah! That's what I'm taking about, I love you, Y/N!" There's a pause where it has to compute for a second. "Wait, did I just say that out loud?" He's serious for a moment—he can't believe he actually said that. But the next beat, he's back to smiling at you, laughing, maybe trying to deflect the hint of embarrassment he felt (which was rare for Mikey). "Yeah, I did say that out loud, I guess. Whoops...oh—now, tag, you're it!"

Donatello:

• Despite his brains and his intellectual nature, Donnie is an emotional person and actually falls in love almost immediately when he encounters that perfect person. He gets stars in his eyes and runs his own compatibility tests through his mind as he learns more about them, and annoyingly, they're stuck on his mind even when he's trying to work on his experiments and projects.

• Helpful, playful, a little stingy with your time lol—when he wants to spend time with his crush, he wants his brothers away because they take the limelight without thinking sometimes. Always offering to help you with homework or if you need anything fixed around the house, he's volunteering for that. Broken cabinet? Fixed. Wifi isn't working? No problem. Pipes under your sink leaking? He's been fixing up the Lair for years!

• Donnie is not shy. Let's say that rn. He's 👏 confident 👏. He's a little bit of a showoff competing with his brothers to snatch your attention, even if it's just games.

• He asks you if you'll have him on a date one night on your way out of the sewers. He'd been looking for the prime time to hit you with the question and was a little nervous to do it with his peers around, so he dropped the question when you went to leave for the night. "I know you're leaving—and this will only take a minute! But I had something to ask you." He lets you get curious. He holds up the keys to his prized possession, the Shellraiser, that he dreamed about driving you around in. "Ever gone on a joyride through New York in a souped-up garbage truck? No?...do you, maybe, want to do it with me? As a friend thing? Or maybe as more than just...friends?"

Raphael:

• Raph was completely UNready to admit he was getting soft for you. Or ready to commit to feeling the uncomfortable—but tantalizing—feelings you gave him. In honesty, for a good long while, Raph didn't let you know in the slightest he was getting his heart stolen over the course of the months he knew you.

• Very much puts off his crush with his prickly demeanor. But underneath that tough exterior, he's secretly taking every chance he can get to try to impress you in the ways he knows how; if there's any heavy lifting to be done, you bet he's volunteering himself out for that before anyone else can.

• Acts too good for sappy things until the moment his crush is being vulnerable—it disarms him, he's a protector at heart. He wants to be your shield from everything bad in the world, which is a lot.

• Raph plays the long game with his crush hinting over and over again he's in love, with no luck at times. It frustrates him but it's a challenge. He won't be outright and say it; everything he does is subtle, but the second your back is turned, he's making it known he's got your attention just to pull one over on his brothers (in good humor!)

• Makes his crush work with him to get the confession out, low-key. He makes you guess until you finally start to piece everything together. He will not be saying it with his words, but he'll definitely show it.

• "Y/N. C'mere," he says. "What're you still doing here this late, dummy? Already said it's not safe to walk home alone." Silence. "Agh, I did it again. Ignore my crap. But I mean it, stop goin' home alone, you know I told you I'd come too. And if I ain't available then I'm making Mikey go. Hear me? Stop acting like it's a burden or whatever..." He's kicking himself mentally for being unable to say what he actually wants to say. He ruffles your hair roughly to deflect. "See, now ya look silly like you act. Come on, let's go. I like you better safe in one piece than ending up in the back of some guy's van."

I lost all of my TMNT gifs from my old phone 😭 The post feels bare without it, but anyways, this is my first post in over a year so i hope it's good! 🐢🐢🐢🐢

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2016 #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donnie #tmnt headcanons #tmnt requests #tmnt leonardo #raphael #michelangelo #donatello #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt 2012 #tmnt romance

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virtualreader · 11 months

Text

tracking love

daryldixonxfem!reader

summary: Daryl is reluctant to admit his pretty much obvious feelings for you, so you decide it is time to give him a little push.

word count: 2,4k.

warnings: jealousy, past trauma, walkers, a bit of gore (what's to expect from a twd fanfic?), etc. (not proofread, yeah, again, sorry :/)

requested: by @matilda4eve, hope you like it, lovely!

As you ran your fingers over the rough skin and traced the shape of the marks on Daryl's back, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for him. You knew that those scars would always be a reminder to him of the pain and suffering he had endured during his childhood. The physical marks may have healed, but the emotional wounds they represented were still raw and painful.

Being able to see the most intimate part of him made you feel special as if he trusted you with a part of himself that he doesn't usually share with others. You knew that Daryl was not one to let other people stir his past memories, so his vulnerability with you made you feel even more honored.

You caught him pulling his shirt off his torso over his head. He didn't mean for you to discover what his clothes hid, but he had forgotten to close the door. It didn't bother him that you now knew the harshest fragments of his past, unearthing the wounds he had concealed for so long. In fact, you were the only one he didn't mind seeing him like this.

The day you met Daryl, a few months ago, you were not in the cheerful and beaming mood he usually finds you in whenever he spots you somewhere in Alexandria. Time had passed over your clothes, leaving them worn-out and mucky.

You knew better than to trust a stranger. You knew better than to go with a man you didn’t know to a place you couldn’t prove existent. He promised a safe place, food, clean clothes… damn, he even promised hot water, so your eagerness to survive took over your sensible judgment. If your parents were still walking between the living, they would surely be disappointed on you for accepting his proposal.

"Who did this to you?" you asked the man, gently approaching him as you returned to the present moment.

You sat on the bed beside him, close enough to feel his body heat but at an acceptable distance so as not to make him feel more vulnerable than he already was.

“Not everyone has a loving father,” his head down as he confessed, hair falling over his face. “It was Merle before he went away from home, and then…” his words faded in the air.

As he uttered those words, the message he was trying to convey became crystal clear. The unspoken implications behind his statement were evident and left no room for doubt. His body language, tone of voice, and choice of words all pointed to a deeper meaning that was waiting to be uncovered.

“Stop creeping up on her and go talk to her, Dixon,” Carol spoke, startling Daryl who had been staring at you for a while.

The archer let out a grunt in response. It was evident from the way he tightened his grip on the crossbow strap that he was deep in thought and going through a myriad of emotions.

"What's the point? I ain’t got nothing to tell her,” he said, his voice laced with frustration and self-doubt.

The scene in front of Daryl had recently become the norm. You stood at ease next to Spencer, whose jokes made you giggle foolishly. As you leaned in to fix Spencer's jacket, your fingers brushed against his chest while he ogled you.

Daryl felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him, but he couldn't quite understand why. After you placed the flower Spencer gave you in his shirt pocket, Daryl knew he had to do something, but he couldn’t find the courage to act.

He thought back to the times when he had stood by and watched as others took what he wanted. He remembered the time when Merle had stolen his last can of food, and he had silently accepted it because he couldn't bring himself to stand up for himself. He didn't want to make the same mistake again, but he didn't know how to go about it either.

"Morning, Daryl," you greeted your friend as you passed by him after saying goodbye to the son of the Alexandria leader.

Daryl hummed in response, nodding his head in greeting. He watched as you walked away, feeling a mix of emotions. He felt happy to have seen you, but at the same time, he was disappointed with himself for not being able to talk to you. He knew he had to do something soon before he lost the chance to be with you forever.

"God, you're a lost cause," Carol said as she walked away, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts.

As you crouched down to examine the tracks on the muck, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the warm sun on your back. The sun's intensity was beautifully diminished by the swaying leaves of the trees above, creating a picturesque scene.

You and Daryl, your trusty guide, were trying to follow the trail left behind by an animal, most likely a deer, as Daryl stated the moment he saw the marks. The task at hand required your careful attention to detail, as you scrutinized every inch of the muddy ground before you, scanning for any sign of the animal's presence.

Even thought you were not lacking in food in Alexandria, fresh, newly hunted meat tasted way better than the canned pigswill you had survived on for months before the archer found you.

Daryl was known to be a solitary hunter, preferring to venture into the wilderness on his own. However, this time, he had extended an invitation for you to join him on his hunting excursion. It was an unexpected offer, especially since you weren't exactly the best hunter out there. But you had learned a thing or two from Daryl, and that was enough to convince him to take you along.

You had always been fascinated by Daryl's hunting skills. He seemed to have a natural instinct for tracking and had a keen eye for detail. You had watched him in action on several occasions, observing his every move and trying to learn as much as you could. It was evident that he enjoyed the solitude that came with hunting, but he had never turned down your requests to tag along.

As you made your way through the woods, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. The rustling leaves underfoot, the chirping birds overhead, and the fresh scent of nature all around you added to the thrill of the hunt. You felt a sense of gratitude for this opportunity to learn from Daryl and experience the wilderness in a way you never had before.

Despite your lack of experience, you felt confident under Daryl's guidance. He was patient with you, taking the time to explain the intricacies of tracking and spotting signs of animal activity. You were amazed by his ability to read the environment and anticipate the movements of the creatures around you.

This was not your first time hunting with Daryl, and each time you went out, you learned something new. You were grateful for his willingness to teach you and his patience with your mistakes. It was clear that he enjoyed sharing his knowledge with you, and that made the experience even more special.

"Ya see that?" Daryl asked, pointing to the ground where the deer had passed.

You looked down, trying to figure out what he was referring to. As you examined the tracks more closely, you noticed that they were becoming progressively closer to one another. It seemed as though the deer was moving slower, perhaps grazing on vegetation nearby. You both crouched down to get a better look and to study the tracks more closely. You began to notice other signs as well, such as broken twigs and trampled bushes, just as Daryl had thaught you, indicating that the deer had been in the area for some time.

Daryl whispered, "The damn beast's gotta be close, grazin’ somewhere near here."

You both continued to follow the tracks, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of the deer. The anticipation grew with each step as you both wondered if you were getting closer to your prey or if it had somehow eluded you.

As you were about to propose going back to Alexandria seeing as the trip seemed unavailing, you heard a rustling in the bushes nearby, causing you both to freeze in your tracks. You could feel your heart racing as you waited for the deer to reveal itself.

With lightning speed, Daryl raised his crossbow and aimed it in the direction of the sound. You held your breath, waiting for the shot to ring out. After a few moments of silence, Daryl lowered his weapon and turned to you with a subtle yet blissful smile on his face.

"We got 'em," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and pride.

You both made your way over to the bushes where the deer had been hiding. As you approached, you could see the animal's head peeking out from behind the leaves. Daryl approached the deer slowly, his crossbow still at the ready. With a quick and precise shot, he took down the animal, ending its life almost instantly.

“Watch out!” the archer’s hasty, blaring voice startled you.

You pivoted on your feet abruptly, your heart pounding with fear and concern. You felt a hard bump as you collided with a rotter, whose face was only a few centimeters away from yours. You could see the flaps of putrescent skin hanging off its face, and its teeth were bared in a menacing manner, as it chased after your un-decayed flesh. The sound of the walker's rasping breath and the stench of its decaying flesh filled your nostrils.

Daryl moved quickly, his hand flying to the roamer's head. With his other hand, he grabbed the roamer's neck and swiftly stabbed its skull with his hunting knife. The lifeless and putrid body collided with the ground straight away, and the sound of the impact reverberated through the dense woods.

In that moment, Daryl's hand shot out and gripped your biceps, pulling you along as he ran away from the swarm of walkers that were quickly closing in on your position. The frenzied sound of your yelling had caught their attention, drawing them towards you like moths to a flame. With your heart pounding in your chest, you had no choice but to run alongside Daryl, his steady grip on your arm providing a sense of reassurance in the midst of the chaos.

Once he considered that you were far enough away from the danger, he pushed both of you inside the void core of a broad chestnut oak. Not even once had you been this close to the archer, your bodies rubbing against each other as you struggled to fit within the hollow trunk. Although Daryl appeared relaxed, he was as uneasy as you were - what with the proximity of your bodies and the mildly oppressive atmosphere that had settled around you both since your friendship with Spencer began.

Daryl’s gaze, which had previously been analyzing your surrounding looking for any indicators of the walkers’ presence, drifted towards your face, slighty lowering his head to make eye contact. His hand remained on your upper arm, his rough yet delicate touch sending electricity sparks through your skin. Emboldened by your unexpected proximity, Daryl decided to voice the question that had lately been swirling in his mind.

“What’s with that Spencer guy?” Daryl asked, his eyes still fixed on you, a barely perceptive trace of disdain decorating his speech. “Ya’re always laughin’ with him and fixin’ his damn jacket.”

You raised an eyebrow at Daryl, a smirk playing on your lips. “Are you jealous, Dixon?”

“Nah,” Daryl huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “I ain’t jealous.”

“Sure seems like you are.”

He avoided your gaze, and the spark of courage he experienced that had seemed so convenient dissipated. The excessive amount of time you spend with Deanna’s son had a purpose, and the plan had successfully fulfilled your expectations, as it led to daryl’s emotions rising to the surface from the deep ocean of mysteries that flooded his mind.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re so blind, Daryl. Can’t you see it?”

“See what?” Daryl asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That you’re the one I want,” you said. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.”

As you gazed into Daryl's eyes, your heart beat rapidly in your chest. The words had escaped your lips before you could even give them a second thought. But as soon as they were out, you knew that you meant every single one of them.

Daryl's eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, you were worried that you had overstepped your boundaries. But then, a flicker of hope crossed his face, and he leaned in closer to you. Your bodies were already pressed tightly together, but somehow, he managed to get even closer.

In that moment, it felt like time had slowed down, and the world around you two had faded away, leaving just the two of you standing there, lost in each other's eyes. You could feel his breath on your skin, and the warmth of his body as he leaned in even closer, making you feel safe and protected.

"Ya mean it?" he whispered, barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with hope and vulnerability.

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. "I do. I've been waiting for you, Daryl. I knew you liked me for a long time, even before Carol snitched on you."

Daryl looked down, fidgeting with the crossbow strap. “I didn’t know...I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to tilt his chin up so that you could see his eyes. “You won't ruin anything, Daryl. Our friendship means the world to me, and I know we can make this work. Just tell me how you feel.”

Daryl took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. “I love ya, Y/N. I can't imagine my life without ya in it. Every time I see ya with Spencer, I get this weird feelin’ in mah chest, and I know ya can be with whoever ya want and that this feelin’ is unfounded and it makes no sense…”

“It makes perfect sense to me,” you smiled, embracing him tightly. “I love you too, Daryl.”

#twd #amc #the walking dead #twd x reader #twdxreader #daryldixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryldixonxreader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl fanfiction #thewalkingdead

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ystrike1 · 2 months

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Corrupting the Heroine's First Love - By 모과 (7.5/10)

Cheating? Killing? Masochistic tendencies that stem from giving up your religion to follow a hot demon lady? There's loads of potential here, but it's predictable. Everyone is madly in love with the protagonist. Sigh.

Karina is a gorgeous snake woman.

With a cute snake pet.

He killed her tyrant father.

She volunteers to help the sick.

She has an undead army.

She needs to make it past the last obstacle. Her evil father, who created her as a demon/human hybrid experiment, is out of the picture. BUT the real final boss is the protagonist. Penelope, AKA The War Goddess, is a terrifying force. A sadistic saintess who kills every demon alive after her sweet boyfriend, Reneiger, dies tragically.

Reneiger almost dies on her doorstep and she saves him purely because she's so afraid of Penelope. It's hilarious.

The plot twists aren't awful. It turns out that Reneiger is very religious and very repressed. His Holy Sword has been controlling him. Encouraging him to be selfless, self-sacrificing. Robotic. A warrior with no fear. On the inside he really is afraid. He's not like Penelope, and on top of that he's much weaker than her. Heck, he's way weaker than Karina. He was living a lie.

Reneiger is kind of a bad guy. He never loved Penelope the way she loved him. He was living a the worst kind of lie. He dating the strongest and most righteous War Goddess for honor. Not for love....and....even worse...

....he was in love with Karina all along. He saw her once and he never forgot her beauty.

This boring dog guy is also in love with Karina. He's only important because he's also an experiment made by their "father".

This character only exists to show that Karina is "kind" compared to the other demons.

As a reader you really feel awful for Penelope. I mean it. I'm not kidding. She really loved Reneiger. I mean...the sacrificing hero he was pretending to be. Poor Penelope also has to deal with annoying possessive background guys.

I think Karina and her should be friends.

So, long story short Reneiger decides to be selfish. He ignores his talking holy sword. He knows Karina doesn't love him, so he tricks her. She's stronger, so he has to be sneaky.

He succeeds.

He uses a blood oath to bind himself to Karina. Freeing him from his horrible life of sacrifice, travel, and hero work. The bind allows him to be with the woman he really admires as a bonus.

His feelings gush out, and he becomes awkwardly masochistic.

Karina likes it. Originally she was keeping him breathing to avoid the wrath of Penelope, but now he's a good boy.

Karina decides to take a risk.

She will enjoy her little slave lover...and hopefully Penelope will spare their lives I guess...

They're both attracted to each other. So that's nice but um...Penelope is coming....

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Corrupting the Heroine's First Love

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mlbigbang · 5 months

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2023 Marichat & Ladrien Fic Rec List

It’s the end of the year which means it’s finally time for the ML Big Bang’s yearly fic rec lists! We’re really excited to bring you our contributors’ favourite fics started this year to supply you with plenty of reading material while you’re waiting for the Big Bang fics’ publication in January.

Boulangérella by @aidanchaser

Once upon a time, magic was wild. The two princes of the kingdom have been tasked with choosing their brides by the end of their 21st birthday celebrations. Crown Prince Adrien Agreste will have to choose between a woman who can protect his kingdom, a woman offering the power to wake his sleeping mother, and the woman he has loved and admired for the past year. Then there's also the seamstress that he is suddenly falling for. By the time he realizes he doesn't have the power to choose at all, it may be too late.

It's a creative Cendrillon retelling with the kwamis as fay, Adrien as the kingdom's prince and most wanted thief, and Marinette as the seamstess and superhero partner stealing Adrien's heart twice over.

Scary, like a little black purring kitten by @h-sunnywet-d

The calendar just turned into October, and Chat Noir has to make sure that his Good Friend Marinette appreciates the new season wholeheartadly. It sure won't backfire on the long run.

Just An Ordinary Girl by @kasienda

Chat Noir and the other heroes are in a bit of trouble, and Ladybug wanted just one weekend off! But luckily they know someone who can help. Someone who is just an ordinary girl…

you will never sleep alone (i'll love you) by @ladyofthenoodle

Marinette had saved up for months to be able to afford this vacation. Not only that, but she’d spent months trying to convince herself that it was okay to even take a vacation, that Monarch was really and truly gone. Which was why Tikki was at home with Alya, so that Marinette could actually relax and enjoy the plush amenities the hotel had to offer, such as a bed that looked like it cost five times her monthly salary. Or, she would be able to enjoy it, if she wasn’t standing in the middle of the villa she’d booked over a month ago, fighting for the bed with freaking Chat Noir, of all people.

May I introduce myself, Your Highness? by @chocoluckchipz

Whether picking up a stray animal off the streets or saving a dying child at the market, Adrien had always strived to be the best version of himself. Truly, he would've been the perfect candidate to be snatched up by a kwami, were he an orphan, dying somewhere remote after a short life full of nothing but suffering and misery. Yet as it stood, the sole heir to the French throne had little to complain about. Apart from, perhaps, a complete absence of a love life. That is until a mysterious girl, wandering around his gardens at night, catches his attention.

This fic has it all - Ladrien, royalty, fairy tale elements, magic and disguises! It's an enthralling read and one of my absolute favorite fics from 2023.

The Perfect Date by @peachcitt

“I dare you to ask this special someone on the date you just described.” “I totally will,” Adrien says with confidence, looking into the camera and nodding resolutely. “Scout’s honor.” He holds up the kitten as if swearing an oath. There is a space of silence. “Right now,” Hanna says. Adrien stares at her. “I’m daring you to ask that person out right now,” she says. or adrien has a little slip up during a live interview, and ladybug hears. for the golden hour zine!!

reserved by @luckyyoyo

“Don’t you think,” he coughed, a blush creeping up his cheeks, “this kind of thing should be.. reserved for my girlfriend?” He gestured to their poses. A squeak came from her mouth and her knees buckled, but surprisingly still had no struggle keeping Adrien up. “You know, you could always be my girlfriend.” Ladybug, saviour of Paris and local damsel-in-distress Adrien Agreste, suggests he gets a fake girlfriend to ward off his zombie fans. While lovingly holding him in her arms, of course. Adrien, far too comfortable in her arms, suggests it could be her. Introducing your superheroine pretend-girlfriend to your strict, uninterested father is a bit harder than Adrien realises.

Displaced by @kasienda

Adrien loosened his tie and dropped his suit jacket unceremoniously across the back of the sofa that was already cluttered with unopened boxes, mail, and unfolded laundry. He really should have listened to Nino and hired a maid or cleaning person of some sort. But well, he still had a secret to keep, and keeping that secret was more important to him than ever. He moved to his bedroom on autopilot without turning on the light, intending to collapse into bed immediately. But when he tried to slip into his space, he found it was already occupied. He flipped his phone flashlight on towards the ceiling to light the room in a soft glow. In his wife’s place, Ladybug lay sprawled diagonally across the bed.

here comes the rush before we touch (come a little closer) by @ladyofthenoodle

When an akuma attacks during Adrien Agreste's beach themed photoshoot on a dreary day in Paris, Ladybug is on the scene immediately. Unfortunately, with a glimpse of Adrien's alluring abdomen and without her partner, it's not long before she's hit, and Adrien with her—but maybe Ladybug can afford a little vacation with the boy she loves. He's certainly not complaining.

On Borrowed Time by @miabrown007

The life of Paris’ Golden Boy is all shine and glamour; blindingly bright smiles, neverending parties, bargaining for just a shard of time for being happy. But that’s alright; Adrien has long given up the false hope that someone will get it. That is precisely why it’s a spectacle when she does, when she barges in like a hurricane in crimson and turns his life upside down. Heaven knows, it’s time for the wind of change.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marichat #ladrien #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #love square #ml big bang #ml big bang 2023 #fic recs #ml fic recs

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merakiui · 6 months

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I am E A T I N G the accidental preganancy trope like good soup 👏 I’m so curious how that would be for more “hardass” characters who are hyper-focused/hyperfixated on their life and goals like:

-Azul, Jade to an extent, Rollo, Riddle, Vil

(Honorable mentions: Leona, Malleus, Jamil, Idia, and Deuce)

Like they could be doing SO well in their lives and are successful businessmen, mafia bosses, doctors, priests, etc etc lol (or are starting their young adult years!!!) and a baby is just SO OUT OF LEFT FIELD I LOVE IT lol

:o !!!! I think most of them on the list would take responsibility by marrying you or offering some form of assistance and support, whether monetary, emotional, physical (or all and more).

Rollo is a man of tradition, so naturally his first thought is to assume responsibility by marrying you. I think Riddle might think somewhere along the same lines because rules are so engrained into his being, and knowing how his mother is she likely views accidental pregnancies with such hateful scorn. Riddle thinks he's breaking a rule by not marrying you and he panics a little as he frets over how he'll tell his mother of this because it completely ruins her arranged marriage plans for him. But then it's almost a blessing in disguise because it gives Riddle the chance to make more choices for himself and have more autonomy over his personal life and relationships.

Malleus and Deuce are the characters who are the most thrilled with the news. They're both so in love with you, so an accidental pregnancy doesn't even feel like an accident to them because of how accepting of it they are! :D in Deuce's case, he looks so amazed as he asks to feel your belly (regardless of whether you're already showing or not) and he looks so excited. Does this mean he's going to be a dad now? It totally means that, right?! Omg he can't wait to tell his mama!!!!! And Malleus is so overjoyed. Very happy dragon hours. >w< he just radiates ebullience, but no one can truly tell because his expressions are often misread. But Lilia knows and he's very happy for you and Malleus.

Knowing Azul, he finds some way to work a child into his life. He's always making plans for the future, and while some aspects of these plans may be set in stone he can make changes when necessary. Maybe he's not entirely pleased because he's so worried and anxious, but then it hits him that he's going to be a father and ohhhh he's so soft. T^T I think Vil is much the same when it comes to his future. He's also highly determined and won't settle for less. For him a child is a surprise. He may not have planned to become a parent at this stage in his life, but he isn't complaining. Vil doesn't care what the media will say. He'll do his best to shield you from them so you can have a healthy, happy pregnancy and carry to term. He is so supportive!!!! Whatever you need or want, he'll get it for you.

Idia panics. T_T oh, he is so not ready. So unprepared. Filled to the brim with anxiety. What do you mean he's going to be a DAD????? That feels so impossible to fathom for him. He's just a gamer (and super intelligent tech genius who is renowned for his accomplishments, but that's besides the point). >_< you can't expect him to be S-tier at parenting when the only thing he's ever raised in his life are high-scores and virtual pets. ;;;; he's putty in your hands. You can do whatever you want; it's your body, so he won't force you to do something you don't want to do. If you do decide to keep the baby, he's poring over reputable sources online in an effort to understand how any of this works. He doesn't want to tell his parents because he knows how much they'll fawn and how eccentric they can be. Mama Shroud will share all sorts of stories from her time when she was pregnant; if you ever need anything, the Shrouds provide! You're set for life. And Ortho's excited to welcome another member into the family!!!

Leona has to warm up to the idea because kids have never been his priority. He takes responsibility; he's not going to be a scumbag or a deadbeat. Absolutely not. And he provides more than enough for you. If his brother's wife thought he was mistreating you, he'd never hear the end of it. But also Leona would never dream of mistreating you. Sure, the news is a bit of a shock at first and he's not too keen about raising a child with you, but that's just life. It's always going to be shocking when you least expect it. He may not be fond of it in the beginning, but when those feelings hit and he realizes he's a father and he's bonding more with you and feeling the baby kick and tumble around inside; it's genuinely so soft and sweet,,,, yeah, maybe this isn't so bad...

Jade........ he lives for surprises like this. To say he's pleased is an understatement. He is brimming with excitement and he wants to tell everyone and no one all at once. This is such a pleasant surprise! He cannot stop grinning because the two of you share such a wonderful secret now and he's going to keep it from everyone for as long as he can just so he can see them get shocked. You're probably in on it, too. >:) the two of you are so devious. I think he's the most relaxed with an accidental pregnancy, and his composed attitude definitely eases some of your initial fears. You're so relieved he's not upset, but then how could he ever be upset? You've created life together and he loves you. Oh, did you not know about that? :3c like news of your pregnancy, Jade's confession is just as sudden and shocking. (The two of you have lots of fun gaslighting Floyd when he visits and starts to take note of the subtle changes to you, which you both insist nothing has changed. It's all in good fun. Floyd's going to kick Jade's ass after the truth comes to light. How dare he not tell him he's having a baby with Shrimpy!!!!! That conceited asshole!!!)

#twisted chit chat #tw: pregnancy

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cheesit-notes · 10 months

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After i read about mean caption prices ( abuse power) i just have an idea for Alejandro being mean too,

just want to request that

Love your work so much!

no title, just fucking alejandro

tags: drunk decisions, dub-con, possibly incorrect spanish, fem reader, oral (fem receiving), inappropriate touches from alejandro, kinda forcing himself on reader

a/n: asked a friend for the phrase at the end and idk if she really gave me an accurate translation l but um, i really wish i just googled it now. anywho enjoy! i tried my best to make alejandro be like his words are sweet but his actions are mean but i cant think of him as a power abuser TT im so sorry if I didn’t do what you wanted

alejandro doesn’t sound mean, no, his words are so, so sweet. in fact, every word has you hanging onto his next. god, and his praises are to live for. a successful mission and his hands gripping your shoulder while he exclaims how you did so well, making you feel oh so special.

so special, in fact, you excuse the little actions your colonel makes. the way he sneakily pinches your ass, and how his eyes are most definitely not on yours. his arm hung over your shoulder linger for far longer than appropriate, rubbing on your shoulder occasionally. how he asks you for little favors at the late hours of the night; to go to his office, and sit there silently while he looked at you. and 5 minutes later, you’re dismissed to go back to your barracks while he finished up some… unfinished business. what that is, you don’t ask; alejandro told you not to worry about it and you trust your colonel, don’t you?

there’s little things he does that you don’t know about. going through your records, checking your marital status, just the little details. on occasion, he’ll let it slip, but please, don’t mind him! he’s just checking for safety measures, or something like that.

one day, he’s a little too bothered with his unfinished business and he needs help, specifically your help! of course you feel honored, he’s your colonel, and he’s asking for your help, specifically. so you'll dismiss the fact he barged into your baracks, yeah?

leaning against the door with an arm over his head, hair disheveled, a thin layer of sweat like he just had a workout and hazy eyes like of someone drunk. and you're sitting in bed with nothing more than a thin layer of cloth covering you.

the next few seconds are a blur; he walks over and now you're trapped in between his arms as he's breathing into the crook of your neck. he smells faintly like alcohol and you can't stop squirming around, it just feels soo ticklish when his breath hits your skin. holding your hands down with his to keep you still, he whispers a quick, barely audible "por favor, let me do this..." before slamming your lips with his.

he's all over your lips, only really letting go for a bit to let you catch your breath. his body pressed against yours; you can feel his chest moving as he breathes, a few strands of hair fall on your face, and the growing bulge in his pants. he'll take a good look of you, soaking in every little detail of your pretty little face before going down on you. and he's so, so good with his tongue, you're practically seeing stars. when he's done with that, he'll shove two fingers and spread you open as wide as possible, to test you, prep you.

your clothes are ripped off you and he's fumbling trying to unzip his pants with one hand. the seconds it takes to free his cock feels like forever to him, so forgive your colonel if he's a little impatient, ok? oh he really should do more prep with you, i mean, just look at your tight little pussy. he really should, but god, he doesn' have the time; he might as well die if he doesn't shove his throbbing cock in you right now. and that's what he does.

rams his cock straight into your pretty plush cunt. and it's so thick. he might not have the longest cock, but god, he's a contender for one of the thickest. you're being stretched so wide, so far, no one has ever stretched you this far and it hurts. but it feels so good, and tears flow down your face, and you're too cockdrunk to form words. eye rolled back, you subconsciously grind on him, even after he's made you cum, even when the overtsimulation is getting painful. he's picking up the speed, chasing after his own pleasure, and you can feel his cock throbbing inside. and he's singing you honeyd praises between grunts. praises that keep you staying, keep you wanting more.

it takes him so, so much self control to pop him cock out and cum on your stomach. he's still riding his high, a little drunk when he collapses onto your chest.

"quiero follarte en la posición de perra nalgona.."

you look at him confused. god, you need some spanish lessons don't you? he chuckles.

"guess you need to improve your spanish. so i'll meet you here tomorrow night for some personal spanish lessons, aye?"

how can you decline your colonel?

#cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas #colonel alejandro vargas #alejandro x reader #dubcon #colonel alejandro #cod smut #alejandro smut #drunk #mdni #cheesy likes cod?!#cheesy requests

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the-flowerwolf · 1 year

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Hogwarts legacy headcanons

While normal people go and socialize I wake up and think about ✨them✨

So there's some headcanons about my favourite Legacy Team (as I call them) for ya folks while I'm writing a really big fic about them. Careful, some of them are sad. And don't mind my poor grammar thanks.

Btw, collages are mine, feel free to use them💙

🐍Sebastian Sallow🐍

First off all, if you turn him in, I don't trust you

Literally a typical Slytherin

A nerd. Just a nerd.

Quidditch? Babe, the only sport for him is dueling

Felt absolutely helpless when his parents died. And that's why he's so protective. He just can't let anyone else die on his watch

Really is a small version of his father and proud of it

Believes that the end justifies the means

Hopeless flirt BUT a gentleman. Wouldn't do anything you don't like

And also most probably believes in true love

A proud bisexual

Everyone think that "he fucks everything that moves" but he's a virgin who "saves himself for the one and only"

As some fan said, he was probably born on 18th September. And it's a canon now.

A great friend but a terrible secret keeper, so for Merlin's sake, don't tell him ANYTHING

Knows how to braid hair into the most complex ways

Pro feminist! Treats women right and knows all important stuff thanks to his sis

🔥Natty Onai🔥

I'm sorry but she's so underrated and for what??

I believe she really respect traditions she were tought as a child

Her favourite holiday must be her birthday. All because it was the only day of the year when her parents forgot about all the dangers and sorrows and they just got together, spending the best time

Most probably will return to the homeland after Hogwarts

Is the only member of the team who play quidditch

(as a keeper ofc)

She's a lesbian idk dudes

A very honest girl who were raised to be a good person

So she just expects the same from others

A very competitive. But not like Imelda. Natty respects fair competition and knows how to honorably recognize a match

Although this does not mean that she will not destroy you to win

Is always cold poor thing

Religious bc I feel like it

Has mommy issues and don't tell me I'm wrong

Will definitely become the best auror one day

🌼Poppy Sweeting🌼

Her favourite holiday is Christmas lemme tell you that

Trust issues

She's trying her best to be gentle with every living being because she saw too much violence already

And that's why she thinks animals are better than people (agree)

She's definitely an INFP and I won't change my mind

Looks like a cinnamon roll but will kill you

A cliché but I feel like she's an excellent cook

Although she would LOVE to find someone to understand her (like us) she's totally okay with being on her own

Is into mind games like chess

But will go to see a quidditch game just to support Natty (and mc if they play)

Is always up to an adventure

Bullies? Girl grew up among killers, you really think she would care about some bullies?

I feel like she has the strongest personality in here. Doesn't matter what happens she will always stand straight while helping others

Is a cat person

Can't cry bc she was not allowed as a child

💚Ominis Gaunt💚

Just an innocent little boy let's be honest

He may look like he can kill you but he's just a cinnamon roll

Jokes about his blindness as a defence mechanism

Had a crush on both Sallow siblings at some point and I can't blame him

Saw a theory on tiktok that his patronus would be albino snake. CANON

Just wants to have a simple quiet life without any drama

Protective of his friends BUT is more protective of his boundaries

Don't mind his blindness he knows EXACTLY how to be a fashion icon

Another cliché: Omi can play piano

And it's the only thing his parents tought him that he loves. Playing helps him to calm down

Is very private, but as soon as he starts to trust you, he will immediately blurt out his life story, dreams, fears etc

Though he can't see an actual game, Omi likes to go on a quidditch game, because of the happy energy around him

Is sick most of the time for some reason. Cold, stomach ache or anything really

Also a nerd. But unlike Sebastian he's a fiction lover. Helps him to escape reality, especially in his family's house

Clingy with everyone he loves bc they make him feel safe

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting #natty onai #headcanon

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an-au-blog · 26 days

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I love zosan and think the art made me love it even more, but if I'm being honest with myself and how I feel about the canon, I'd say there should be zolu and sanuso before zosan. Let me explain:

The only logical explanation for Zoro - a pirate hunter, who had killed pirates for very petty reasons... to join a random guy with no crew, no boat and a pipedream, is that he saw something in him. The sheer amount of loyalty this man holds for his captain is more than akin to blind devotion than anything. And the trust Luffy holds in his first mate is absolutely astounding.

Outside of the ladies, Sanji only ever defends/vouches for Usopp. Even though Usopp is a man, Sanji doesn't treat him with the annoyance he sometimes has for Luffy and Zoro. During the water 7 arc, he keeps defending Usopp even though the Mary fiascos. He's super protective towards him.

In conclusion, here's how I think it'd go:

Sanji had been unintentionally courting Usopp and only realized it when water 7 happened. At some point while they're still in recovery or maybe while they were still traveling to enmys lobby, he tries to tell him what he's realized. Because if he really leaves the crew, this would be his only chance and he needed to live without regrets, as there was no guarantee what could happen.

Sanji: Usopp, I know it's not the time or place, but-

Usopp: Haha, this isn't Usopp, I'm Sniper King, remember?!

Sanji (defeated, knowing nothing will come of this): Yeah, well, when you see Usopp, can you tell him that I'm sorry I couldn't tell him on time, but I love him and I regret only realizing it now...

Usopp: ...

Usopp: Oh... well... I'll be sure to tell him.

Sanji might have taken that as a nice way to reject him, so he decided to take it with dignity and leave but was stopped when he heard

Usopp: And thank you... I mean, he'd probably thank you. For telling him.

Would it be too pathetic of Sanji to hold onto hope?

After everything was said and done, Usopp joined again. Sanji had forgotten, with all the things that happened, about his confession. So he was a bit surprised when he approached him about it.

S: Soooo... Sniper King told me what you wanted to tell me...

U, sweating bullets: Whaaat? I didn't mean- I mean I never told him to tell you anything, idk what you're talking about. That sniper king guy probably lied!

S: I don't think he's the type to lie. He's a man of honor, you know.

U, not believe that he's getting jealous of himself: you're so easy to defend him, you like him or something?

S, with embarrassment but loving adoration: Yeah.

U, heart broken: Oh. Well, I wish you two a happy life then.

(If he's wondering whether or not to "rejoin as SK", but living a double life would be hard and -)

S: Wait, where are you going. I just told you I loved you and you're walking away? Did something happen, I thought...

U: You said you like Sniper King, not me. (*insert rant about how SK is so much better than Usopp and all that self degrading bs*)

S: Okay, okay, no. I know you're the same person. But if you insist: I love you too. Not only in a friend way, not because of your persona, but because of you. Usopp.

And awww, would you look at that, they started dating. Time passes and Usopp stops feeling as insecure as he had before. Sanji keeps flirting with women but never means it and they all know it because they always ends up back in each other's arms. But then something devastating happens. Sanji can't stop thinking about how the mosshead never wears a shirt. It's infuriating and Usopp kind of understands, at one point he goes "Have you tried touching his chest? Maybe you'll get it out of your system."

To which Sanji is 1. Speechless, petrified, flabbergasted; 2. Shook and horrified at the suggestion; 3. Kind of obsessed with the idea now that he thinks about it; 4. defensive because "my love, you are all I need how could youuuu think thaaat".

In that order.

Usopp, laughing nervously: It's not like I haven't done it.

Sanji: What?

Usopp: What.

So it turned out, that one night of drinking made Zoro almost kiss Usopp, which he backed away because he was afraid, but then Zoro called it "physical traids" which made him.confused and a bit worried that he didn't know what that was, so he said he'd think about it. Zoro looked at him in a way that conveyed "what is there to think about", but never voiced it. With a shrug, he said okay and never tried anything after that.

So Sanji and Usopp decided that they needed to talk about it with the swordsman himself. To work out the logistics if anything... What he said, however, none of them expected.

Zoro: I don't know why you make it into a big fuss. Physical traids, yeah, it's like: I find you attractive, you find me attractive, we care for each other so we make out or if we're feeling it - more. How can Luffy het it, but you can't.

Jaws on the floor.

They call Luffy in on the conversation and it gets worse.

Luffy: Yeah, it's like when I'm bored, or feel like it, we do stuff. But I don't really wanna kiss anyone else and I told him you guys are okay to kiss cause I trust you!

Explaining to them that, yes - that's kind of what dating is, and yes - they've been technically exclusively dating until now, went about as well as one might have hoped. At one point, Sanji definitely got frustrated from his own overthinking about why Marimo had hit on his boyfriend but never him. To which Zoro responded that he had tried a couple of times but Sanji just kicked or ignored him, so he gave up, thinking he wasn't interested.

And at some point Luffy definitely drops something like "I'd like to try with you guys too, it could be fun." with a beaming smile and both Usopp and Sanji wouldn't be able to stop thinking about ot for a week straight, low-key obsessing over it until they decide, okay, yes. And then they would tell him and he would just go "Oh, right, forgot about that, sure, let's do it!"

(idk this was funnier in my head)

#idk what this love triangle is called #sanuso #zolu #zosan #op #zolusanuso #zolusan #usolu #sanlu #idk how to tag I'm gonna cry

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fixaidea · 9 months

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So here's the thing: I don't usually engage with or care about top/bottom discourse EXCEPT when I think it's funny, sooo...

Let's do some Science and examine Pingxie in a Very Serious Manner.

To do this, first let's take a look at some data gathered from all the danmei novels and shows I know (relevant for calibration you know, since they have actual canon top/bottom dynamics.)

SVSSS

Shen Qingqiu - Since his cause of death wasn't starvation we can assume - well, at least hope - that he can make instant noodles, if nothing else, but he will absolutely avoid having to cook if he can help it.

Luo Binghe - As the Protagonist he of course has to be The Bestest at everything (...except sex, apparently) and it's mentioned that both Bingge and Bingmei use their culinary skills to woo the people they want to sleep with. He's also the top, even though everyone involved would be better off if he wasn't.

MDZS

Lan Wangji - Becomes a pretty decent cook, as per the extras. Prefers to top.

Wei Wuxian - It's not like he's incompetent, he doesn't burn or undercook the food, it's just that his taste is so extreme that his dishes are basically inedible to anyone else.

TGCF

Hua Cheng - No special talent for cooking, but at least he's not actively dangerous. There's no on-page sex scene in the novel, but it's made obvious that he tops.

Xie Lian - Biohazard. Weapons-grade culinary anti-talent. Gastronomy's answer to Vogon poetry.

Golden Stage

Ulike in most of the other novels on the list, food doesn't really have much symbolic meaning and not much is said about either Fu Shen's or Yan Xiaohan's cooking skills, exept for a brief mention of Fu Shen pickling eggs to pass the time. This is a rare couple that canonically switches.

Guardian

Zhao Yunlan - This man considers instant noodles cooked with coffee an okay way to surprise a boyfriend. He really wouldn't mind topping, which he keeps lamenting throughout the book, but he's paired with Shen Wei who might just have the strongest set preference out of everyone on this list.

Shen Wei - Likes to dote on Zhao Yunlan by cooking for him and is genuinely very good at it.

Word of Honor (mind, I have only watched the show here)

Zhou Zishou - Can keep himself alive, but left to his own devices would probably make due with charred-and-yet-undercooked fish or something.

Wen Kexing - A competent cook. While obviously not detailed in the drama I looked it up (or asked someone, I can't remember) and he's the top here.

Erha

Chu Wanning - Perfected exactly one (1) dish, is rather... unfortunate otherwise. You could not pay this man to top.

Mo Ran - Excellent cook. Actually worked in a kitchen at one point in his life, giving and receiving food is basically his main love-language.

Now that we have examined these canon couples and have drawn all the relevant conclusions, let's apply what we learned to our non-danmei, might-as-well-be-canon-but-isn't ship.

Wu Xie - Can cook just fine both in the novel and the drama-verse even if it doesn't come up too often. In the first season he cooks up a pretty decent feast for his friends and in the Yucun books he helps come up with the dishes they would serve in their restaurant.

Zhang Qiling - The entire Thing of this poor sod as a character is that he knows how to survive but not how to live. Taking the time to prepare nice meals or cook anything beyond basic sustenance just... doesn't fit that picture.

So.

I rest my case.

#dmbj #pingxie #zhang qiling #wu xie #tgcf #svsss #mdzs #word of honor #golden stage #erha #guardian

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littledead-ridinghood · 1 year

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I have personal beef with Lobdell's "hence the name, Red Hood" panel when Jason picks up that poor, abused dog in RH:O. Which logically I know is an off the cuff joke but 1. Lobdell likes to simplify Jason and his motives all the time (which he could’ve been doing here) 2. I’ve seen a lot of people say they don’t get why/the connection/deeper meaning/etc. Jason picked his name or 3. people who want Jason to drop RH & pick up a new vigilante identity without (or before) Jason getting his full circle closure

(First: can Jason please have a companion again. And can they be given a real name this time? Not Lobdell’s lazy out? Give that man another dog or fuxk, let him pick up a cat that was abandoned in the rain. Please???)

anyway, main attraction:

Within that spread, Scott Lobdell wrote that Jason picked the name because he's awful at naming things and went with the most basic, obvious choice, Red Hood. This is an incredible disservice to why Jason chose to take his mantle specifically.

Imagine you're Batman, a fledgling vigilante who abides by a strict no-kill moral code. It's your first or so year manning the streets of a massive, corrupt city--Gotham--and you still aren't fully sure of what you're doing. The criminal underworld still isn't even convinced you're real. One of the first big cases you bust, a man who calls himself the Red Hood, dies. you play accomplice to the man falling into a vat of chemicals even as you try to save him. He dies. You killed a man due to your own mistakes.

But you didn't. Not really.

The man comes back under a new name--the Joker--and becomes one of your most prominent enemies. The guilt eats you alive. You dub him your greatest failure. The guilt complex and strengthened moral platitudes refuse to let him die, let alone kill the man. Only "saving him" will relieve you of the grief. Your guilt, your grief, God, your god complex, something is too big for you to admit you can't save everyone including the problems you inadvertently create.

You take in a boy, a ward--Dick Grayson--because the city won’t let a single bachelor like Brucie Wayne adopt him. You’re his brother, you’re his spandex-wearing partner, you’re not his father (he has a father, he doesn’t want you to be his father) but you’re also not not his father; it’s complicated. You didn't want him to turn into you and he creates his own mantle--Robin--to honor his parents.

You and him are partners for many years--Batman and Robin: The Dynamic Duo. Until, one day, The Joker shoots him in the shoulder and he falls off a building on live TV. The city’s populace is upheaved, believing Robin is dead. Demanding Batman be held responsible for his negligence, for even having a underaged partner in the first place. You agree. The field is no place for a child, you decide to keep him so. Robin, the child, is dead, killed by the Joker. Dick Grayson, now a man, is alive and blazing his own trail--Nightwing.

So one child-to-man moves on. And one stays behind. Weeks, months, pass and, you refuse to admit it, you're lonely.

You find another boy--Jason Todd (found in the same location and on the anniversary your parents were murdered in the part of town you only visit once a year)--stealing your tires. Not Bruce Wayne's tires. Batman's tires. He makes you laugh, audaciously so. He takes you down with a tire jack and, God, he’s fast and feisty. (He thought you were going to kill him. You don’t loiter on the thought: it makes your stomach turn). You track him down to retrieve your tires. He tells you he doesn't want to be a criminal, he takes what he needs to survive. He's starving.

You try to stay out of it (all you do is check what happened to his missing dad--murdered--and sick mom--heroin was what got her in the end). You push him towards education. He doesn't trust the cops. He doesn't trust the system. He doesn't trust adults. He hardly trusts you. He tells you about a case, that the school is bad, but believes you only half listen--brush him off like every other person in his life. You follow up. He follows up.

You ask him to be Robin. He accepts.

Later, you adopt him.

Dick's mad at you for giving away his title without asking, to a child nonetheless. (“You said the field was no place for a child!”) You snap at him, say you missed him. (You keep telling Gordan that Jason's no child. That he's seen too much, is more experienced than either of them combined. You don't say this to Dick).

He leaves but he gives Jason his number and his blessing. The kid's torn up about it, you can tell (see the doubt eat him alive of if he should be wearing those colors. Your butler? Your father?--Alfred--tells you to stop comparing the boys--good or not).

That doubt sticks with him. That past experience sticks with him. He urges you to help the poorer parts of the city, especially the places where Batman only visits once a year (The first time he goes back after getting Jason isn’t as bad as all the times before). He fights for his people. He’s tied to Gotham in ways you aren’t. Sees things you don’t. Knows things you don’t. People who can’t stand you, love him.

You keep hearing him crying over his dead mother and watch him lose it against rapists. He advocated for the woman that killed the man who murdered 12 women including her sister even though Batman and Robin aren’t supposed to endorse extra judicial work like that. He breaks a man’s collarbone for taking pictures of naked children. He thinks the “Dress-ups” won’t ever stop because Batman’s only weapon is fear and they aren’t afraid. He once said life’s a game. Monopoly, Bruce assumes he means.

Drugs are easier than rape to catch a man on, and the boy is furious that the perpetrator is only being sent back to his home country. ("he'll just hurt the women over there! He won't stop!" He's in hysterics).

A young woman is dead. The boy found her body. A man falls to his death a man is pushed to his death is dead. The boy was the last one to be with him. You bench him, but you forget that you asked him to be Robin first and a son second.

He runs away. A birth mom--Shelia Haywood, you eventually learn. He's missing. It has to wait. The Joker's out again. You have to prevent your greatest failure from becoming bigger. (He shot Barbara earlier this year)

You leave the boy with his birth mom by the warehouse. You have to go after the Joker. The Joker has killed and killed and killed. Will continue to kill. The boy is dead. He killed the boy. The mother says he was good. He's nothing more than broken bones and mangled limbs. She's...not.

Your greatest failure murdered your boy. His body’s already getting cold when you find hi—the body. The corpse. You hold it. Because it’s an it now, not a him.

You go after the Joker. The pilot is shot. You don't try to kill the Joker, but you don't bring him with you as you jump. The helicopter crashes. You don't even think he's dead; unresolved as per usual.

You failed to protect him. You failed. And he’s dead.

Superman pulls you from the ocean.

You go home and Alfred meets you once you get off the plane. He tells you it's not your fault, the boy had it coming. The murdered boy--a Good Solider, buried next to his bio-mother in Gotham Cemetery--is dubbed your new biggest failure.

Dick's in space and would miss the funeral, so you decide instead to not tell him there was a funeral at all. At least someone will still think Jason’s alive. At least someone will keep Jason alive through their belief. It’s not like Dick’ll find out. They weren’t that close anyway (Dick & Jason or you & him?)

When Dick does eventually find out, because of course he obviously does, he's furious. It's the first time you punch your first Robin. (You don't know it yet, but it won't be the last time, not for Dick and not for some other so-called family members.)

Robin is dead. Far deader than Dick Grayson ever was. He did it to himself. He thought it was a game. Dick doesn’t get it. He was better. He was alive.

(You can’t admit he’s become your son out loud. Hardly even in your head. It’s fine. Dick is the same about your fatherhood. Like father, like son)

You blame it on Jason's death. It changed you. He changed you. It's his fault. Everyone follows suit.

You leave the Joker in a body cast for six months. He gets out again. Luckily you have a new Robin--Tim Drake. He's not Jason. You can see it in his eyes that he knows that's a good thing. Gotham doesn’t even know the second one is dead. They believe Tim’s second one. Gordan even asked if he’s finally hit his growth spurt. 4’6 the death certificate said. That’s okay. No one needs to knows.

(Park Row Crime Alley knows. They know who’s theirs and who isn’t. Batman and Robin aren’t welcomed down there anymore)

(The first anniversary you visit your parents yours and his first meeting spot after Jason’s death feels like Ethiopia all over again)

A blonde girl is Robin now--Stephanie Brown. You tell her she's like Jason. She can tell you mean it as a bad thing but never processes it through her mind. You're trying to lure Tim back. A city-wide gang war wrecks Gotham. She's dead. Tortured by Black Mask and died on the operation table.

There's talk around the underworld, unified under Black Mask, a new gang leader's been making waves for months. You just heard about him tonight (a duffle bag full of heads told you): The Red Hood. You know that name. It’s a punch to the gut. Your first failure.

(“You’re getting slow, old man!)

He did what you've been trying to do for years in a matter of weeks: He overtook the entire Gotham underworld. He’s running circles around everyone. He pits you against the underground, keeps you busy, and he gets what he needs to be done Scot-Free. You hardly ever see him around. Only when he wants you to see him, do you. You don’t like things you aren’t in control of.

He doesn't want anyone dealing to kids. He likes bombs, but they're contained. Implosions, not explosions. He kills and is on par with Batman himself (he cut himself free of your line). Red Hood hangs around Crime Alley ("Park Row!" Jason would always respond), but no one there will rat him out to The Batman. They won't talk to you. Some of them even seem to...like having the Red Hood around.

He’s managed to bring down the crime rate of the entire city. Somehow.

It's raining. You can't tell. Jason's alive.

Jason's. Alive.

Jason'salivejason'salivejason'salivejason'salivejason'saliveason'salivejason'sal--

Jason's alive.

And he's killing people. And he's spitting in the face of your "sanctimonious" moral code. He laughed at you when he murdered someone in front of you. ("Just be happy I only killed the Nazi!") You tell him he doesn't get it. He responds the same.

(“You can't stop crime," he says along the lines of "Not with fear. But me...I'm controlling it.")

Jason's never had enough fear.

And now he's crying with a gun to his murderer's head. He says he’s not talking about the other rogues, just him. Just the Joker. He throws you a gun. You won't do it--can't do it. You need to save the Joker. To prove that you can. You need to save Jason. To show him this isn't the way. You can't have any more failures.

(“He took me from you!”)

Jason's going to do it himself, he says. "If you want to stop me, you're going to have to shoot me. Right in the face."

You can't let anyone die. You can't let the Joker die. It's your mission. There's so much blood. The batarang had to have had to knick the carotid artery in his neck. No one could survive it. The Joker is cackling with glee. You hear it in the walls of your skull. The bomb goes off. You don’t hear that at all.

Oh God. You killed your so—

You’re still gone, you think

You see Jason on patrol sometimes. High collar and still branding himself as Red Hood. There’s a red bat on his chest now. You don’t think it’s a compliment. The East End loves him. Jason still can't let the Joker go. Can’t—won’t move on.

Not till he's dead he says.

Take a moment to imagine yourself as a fledgling vigilante--Batman.

— — —

Anyway my meta turned into a 2nd POV fic????? but like that's not the point. The point is: That’s the impact of why Jason chose the name he did. It’s important to me that you all recognize these full-circle story beats. Do you see my vision?

Jason planned everything when he made his big debut. You don't think that dramatic-ass bastard thought about the name? Jason is mocking Bruce: both his fears and failures as a vigilante.

But that throwaway line is one of those really minor details that really bug me because it's so easy to throw out a panel and say “Jason's bad at naming things Haha" It's much harder to commit to "show, not tell" where writers have to trust their readers to get between the lines and figure out long-term connections.

As well as it's just another way Lobdell undermines Jason's goals in UtRH by saying "He couldn't think of anything else" compared to Winick's Jason who is laughing and mocking Bruce by taking up the mantle of Red Hood. Showing he's not afraid of what happened to him. Spitting in the face of the world that burned him and yelling “I’m still here!” Owning it. He's not afraid of Bruce. And he's definitely not afraid of the Joker.

I want Jason to get a new identity one day too but to do so before Jason ever gets his joker closure cuts his story short. (Which is a creative way of saying it’s never gonna happen unfortunately). I think if he gets one before he finishes the story and closes the cycle, it would be the final nail in the “Jason’s a batfamily member” coffin as it would probably be written as “Jason seeing the error of his ways” rather than for himself moving on to heal for himself.

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #jason todd meta #the joker #sorry I got carried away. it will happen again #I'm literally gonna be sick it makes me so angry #i merged pre and post-crisis together and y'all are going to enjoy it God Damn It #Me? Posting commentary again? In this economy? it's more likely than you think

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