#((Sorry for taking so long to get back to you - family

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"My everything." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

A sleepless night after your and Daryl's baby was born.

A/N: Just a cheesy imagine hehe sometimes I like to imagine a soft dad!Daryl. I wrote this imagine for my Tom Holland page, so if you ever find it, you know why. Sorry if you see any grammatical errors. Hope you like it! Thank u.

Marley Rose Dixon was one month old now.

She was born in a warm room full of candles, in a blissful and foggy night in which the world of her mother and father was painted with beautiful colors again after walking in a grey world for so long, announcing her arrival with a loud cry that showed her freedom and her desire to live until the doctor (luckily, there was a few in Alexandria) placed her on your chest for the first time.

Marley was named after Daryl's older brother, and you didn't mind because despite everything, you knew how much he loved his brother. At first, the news wasn't easy for either of you two to take in (the option of abortion was considered at length), but the thought of a baby gave you both the hope that something better and more beautiful could come, too. And boy, it did.

Right there, the moment she was born, her blue eyes ��� identical to her father's — sparkled with the glow of two small diamonds, treasures hidden behind her long lashes from the first time she opened her eyes and gazed, serenely, at her parents, and the new world around her, a better world you two were trying to build for her.

But from that moment on, she cried, cried and cried from time to time.

At 2:54 am, Alexandria is submerged in a cozy dream far from the fear and death, unlike you, and it seems unreachable for you as you walk through your dark room taking soft steps and soft bounces, holding in your arms a small human being created from a great love and blah, blah, blah, other nonsense things you used to believe before being deprived of such a necessary resource, for your sanity and mental health (you didn't sleep much before her, and Daryl even less, but still), But you chuckle, numb from lack of sleep, tired, but at peace with yourself as her little head lies on your right arm and your left one gently caresses her back, wrapped comfortably in a white blanket with pictures of little elephants, just like the pillow in the shape of the same animal that Uncle Rick found for her during a run.

You love her, you are crazy about her, even if the days became difficult and the nights were exhausting, (even with the monumental help Carol and the rest of the family gave you), but all the reward is in being able to hold her in your arms, warm and safe. Daryl calls her his angel, his princess, and at the time, it is an appropriate nickname for someone who cries to make her demands heard.

You chuckle, again.

"Is she tellin’ ya a good joke?" Daryl walks into the room, holding a bottle of warm milk in his hand.

You and Carol taught him how to do it, and now, he is an expert. His brown hair is tousled, but it usually is so no one could tell the difference, eyes tired from lack of sleep, shirtless and in gray loose sweatpants he refused to wear at first.

“15 minutes to make the milk? I was starting to get worried actually." You raise an eyebrow, speaking softly. "Why did you take so long? The milk is in the kitchen, not in another country."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Daryl apologizes as he hands you the bottle, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his daughter stop crying the moment she feels the bottle against her pretty pink lips. "I closed ma eyes and just fell asleep in the kitchen."

You frown, continuing to stroke Marley's back.

"In a chair? On the counter?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl's head falls until he almost hits his chest with his own chin, waking up from his light sleep before looking back at you. It's still funny to you how easy it was for him to go without sleep all those years, but after a month with Marley, Daryl considered killing walkers an easier task.

"What? No. Standin’. Didn't know that was even possible."

You shake your head gently, looking away to your baby who is enjoying a meal at 3 in the morning, resting peacefully, just like a princess, in your arms with eyes closed, body relaxed, arms outstretched to pretend to hold the bottle in your hand.

“Even dad can get a nap; you sleep whenever you feel like it… so, where is mom's nap? I mean, I've slept an hour every night since you were born, the room is a mess like us, and my breasts hurt too much."

Daryl chuckles.

"Can't help ya with that, darling. In fact, I think that's exactly what got us into this mess."

"What?"

"Yer boobs." Daryl babbles, smiling wearily, eyes closed as he falls against the edge of the bed, only to stop holding his own weight when he can no longer bear it. “Yer incredible, amazing boobs. They’re amazing and I love ‘em so much, but they were the temptation that brought us… this beautiful gift."

You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with him.

"They are amazing, and she is beautiful when she doesn't cry.”

"That's when I love ‘er the most." Daryl answers, and a second later, you both chuckle in unison.

“Although, it was kind of your fault for wanting to do it without a condom, you horny bastard.”

Daryl chuckles, and because he wasn't used to doing that before you, that tiny sound was endearing.

“Ya regret it?”

"Never." You say with confidence, because you know that he did not regret the decision either. You laugh quietly, after a while. “But… you know what I was thinking?”

“Um?”

“That this would be a good time to save money so that she can go to a good college.”

Daryl wasn't used to making jokes, so with the help of the moonlight coming through the window, fighting the darkness of the room, he raises himself slightly to look you in the eyes, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Jesus, I’m just kidding.”

Daryl chuckles, falling on the bed again, one arm over his eyes.

“Ya think is a good idea if we teach her how to kill walkers when she gets older? Marley could be the new little ass kicker.”

You smile to yourself, because for some reason, your daughter's name on his lips is like sweet honey. And, although you wanted to protect her from that world, the rules had changed, and in order to survive, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself too. Fortunately, it was still too early to think about that.

So, asleep again, you leave Marley in her crib near the bed before returning to it, laying down next to Daryl as he rolls over onto his left side, taking advantage of the time that you still have until the baby wakes up again, just to repeat the cycle you have been living in since Marley was born.

But life still feels good despite the fatigue and the occasional physical pain, because she was everything you never imagined you could have, not in that world, and she, more beautiful than you had ever dreamed of during the wait.

"Thanks, peach." Daryl whispers, so close to you that you can feel his nose against yours, his hand caressing your waist over your shirt, but you're so tired that it takes you a few seconds to gather your strength to respond.

"Why?"

"For our baby, for lovin’ me, for givin’ me a home. Ya two are ma everythin'."

You smiled, sighing.

"You're welcome, love. We are very, very lucky to have you." You say, taking a breath to answer as you look at him: eyes closed, body finally relaxed after having her on his chest most of the day. He is a good dad, the best. "But still, the next turn is yours alone."

Daryl, amused, looks blindly for the warmth of your body to pull you against him, tickling you slightly and that have you both smiling softly despite the absolute exhaustion, a few seconds before you both can fall into a deep sleep, finally.

[killiaia]

Daddy and Mommy

Rosé x Male reader. 1.9K words

TW : A lot of Daddy and Mommy kinks. A lot of Breeding. Sorry not sorry.

--------------------------

"Why are you looking at me like that? " Rosé asks.

"Because I want to fuck you right now. "

Rosé blushes immediately. You see Rosé clench her thighs.

'Seriously, I could get down on my knees and eat your pussy."

Rosé lets out a moan, which makes you smile. 

You're at her parents' house on vacation. Everything's just perfect. It's a change for you, this being your first vacation in years. With the army and missions abroad, you never had time to take a vacation.

But here you are in Australia with Rosé. Her family is great, but you didn't expect her whole family to be there, which leaves you with very little time together. And you don't know what's going on with you right now, but you really want to fuck Rosé. 

"Soon. " Whispers Rosé. "Tonight, I've reserved a restaurant and a hotel room just for the two of us." 

"That's my good girl. "

Rosé looks around and whispers.

' I'm daddy's good girl. "

----

You follow Rosé into the restaurant and sure enough, it's a fancy restaurant. The kind of restaurant you know you could never afford. Rosé pulls you by the hand and you let yourself be guided. 

Rosé has put on a beautiful black dress that shows off her long legs. You put on a shirt and jeans that Rosé bought for you. 

You sit down at a secluded table towards the back of the restaurant. The waiter arrives, hands you your menus and leaves.

"I think even if I saved my whole life, I'd never be able to afford this restaurant. "You say.

"That's why I'm here. "

"In that case, you're my Sugar Mommy."

You look at the menu again, but you haven't missed Rosé's reaction to her nickname.

"What?" you say, eyes glued to the menu. "Do you like it when I call you Mommy?"

Rosé blushes and shifts in her seat.

"I think it's a good nickname for you. You pay me a lot of things Mommy."

"Baby... "

"What? That's right." You answer. "So tonight, Daddy's going to fuck Mommy."

"Oh god..."

"Daddy's gonna fill Mommy's pretty little pussy." you croon. 

"Baby.." whines Rosé. "Will you take care of me?"

"Of course. Daddy will start by fingering your pussy and then Daddy will eat your pussy."

"I'm so wet Daddy.. "

"I bet you are. If it were just me, I'd bend you over this table and fuck you like you deserve. "

Rosé's eyes darken and she closes the menu. 

"Let's get on with it. "

You don't argue and just follow Rosé. She apologizes to the waiter and you leave the restaurant.

"Mommy is so wet. " says Rosé as you get behind the wheel of the car. 

"Show me. " you say. 

Rosé flashes you a smile and spreads her legs, lifting up her dress. Her panties are soaked. Rosé runs a hand over them.

"So wet for my Daddy. "

"You're going to finger yourself the whole way to the hotel but don't make yourself come. "You order Rosé.

You start the car and out of the corner of your eye, you see Rosé take off her panties. The young woman starts by lowering her hand to her clit and begins to touch herself. 

"That's good, keep it up. " 

Encouraged by your words, Rosé begins to make circular movements on her clit. 

"Show me your breasts. "

Rosé listens and pulls down the top of her dress. You don't waste a minute and with one of your hands, you grab one of her breasts.

"Touch yourself. "

Rosé moans and inserts a finger into her pussy. You continue to knead her breast and pinch her nipples.

"Don't make yourself come. " You remind Rosé.

"Yeah.." pants Rosé 

"Good girl. " 

At the stoplight, you grab Rosé and kiss her. The young woman grabs your face and deepens the kiss. You smell her pussy on Rosé's finger. You grab her hand and lick her finger. Rosé's gaze is filled with desire. 

"Continue. " you say to Rosé.

The young woman listens and starts touching her clit again. Legs apart, breasts out, the view is just magnificent. Sincerely, it's very hard for you. If it were up to you, you'd park in an alley and fuck Rosé in the back seat.

"Daddy's gonna cum inside me?" Say Rosé 

"Yup, Daddy's gonna make you a Mommy."

"Fuuuck," says Rosé, fingering herself.

"We'll be there soon, get dressed Rosie. " 

"Yes Daddy. " 

Rosé gets dressed and you park the car in the hotel parking lot. Before getting out, you kiss Rosé. 

Rosé clings to your arm and you enter the hotel. Rosé asks for the room and you're given the key. You follow the Australian and get into the elevator. 

Rosé jumps on you and you slam her against the wall. You grab her face and deepen the kiss, your tongue forcing its way into her mouth. You run your hand down her dress and play with her clit.

"Oh god", says Rosé. 

You shut her up with a kiss and slip your hand into her panties. Without waiting, you stick a finger inside her.

"You're so tight and wet Rosie. "

"Only for you. "

You remove your finger from her pussy and lick your finger in front of Rosé, who moans. You help her get dressed and you get out of the elevator. 

Rosé gets out first and you can't help but tap her ass. Rosé turns and smiles at you. The young woman looks around and pulls up her dress, giving you a magnificent view of her ass and panties. 

"Open the door quickly, I'm going to fuck you like you deserve. "

Rosé opens the door and you follow immediately. No sooner has the door closed than Rosé is already naked.

"I need your cock. "

"Go lie down, I'll start by eating your pussy."

Rosé lets out a little cry of excitement and you watch the singer lie on her back and spread her legs. Her gaze anchored in yours, Rose brings her hand down and spreads the folds of her pussy.

"You have a beautiful pussy.

"I take care of it for you. Now is Daddy going to eat my pussy?"

"Daddy's going to eat your pussy," you confirm. "And then Daddy's gonna give you a big load so you can be a mommy."

You kneel on the edge of the bed and start kissing Rosé's beautiful legs. You take your time leaving kisses on every bit of skin on her leg. 

"Daddy, eat me. " Rosé is impatient.

"Be patient, baby. " You reply. 

You continue your oral assault on her legs. You slowly move up to her crotch and place a kiss on the tip of her crotch. Rosé shivers at the contact between your mouth and her pussy. 

Gently, you lick her clitoris, making Rosé jump with pleasure. You continue with a big lick from the bottom of her pussy to her clit. 

"It's so good." Shivers Rosé.

Encouraged by her words, you repeat the same gesture. You grab Rosé's legs and lift her pelvis. The position is embarrassing for her, she's so vulnerable like this but you don't give her time to respond, you start your assault on her pussy again.

"Oh god yes." 

You eat her pussy like it's your last feast. You spread the folds of her pussy with your hands and stick your tongue in her hole. 

Rosé is a mess. The young woman plays with her breasts.

You remove your tongue from her hole and replace it with your finger. You move back and forth and Rosé accentuates the movement with strokes of her pelvis.

"You're going to cum on my fingers like the little slut you are. "

"Oh yes. I'm your slut. "

"Cum slut! "

To accentuate your words, you plunge your mouth onto her clit. Rosé speeds up the movements of her pelvis and everything becomes the sound of your mouth against her pussy. Rosé lets out a high-pitched cry and you feel her juices flow into your mouth. Rosé's legs start to tremble and you grab her to lay her gently against the bed.

"Are you okay?" you ask Rose. 

Rosé lets out a nervous laugh, her legs still trembling, and you place a kiss on one of her legs.

"Yeah.." says Rosé softly. "First time I've come like this. "

You gently move up her body until you place a kiss on her mouth. Rosé wraps her arms around your neck and deepens the kiss.

"I love you. " Rosé suddenly says.

"I love you too, Rosie. More than anything. " You answer sincerely. 

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. " says Rosé between kisses.

You're caught up in a surge of excitement and love for Rosé. Instinctively, you penetrate the young woman, who lets out a cry of pleasure. 

It's almost bestial. Your thrusts are powerful, shaking the bed. You continue to kiss her and Rosé pulls you towards her. All your weight is on her, but the young woman doesn't care. She's so taken with pleasure. 

The young woman lifts her legs, giving you a new angle of penetration. You grab her young ones, bringing them towards her. You stop kissing her to dot her neck with kisses. You suck her earball, increasing the pleasure. Rosé scratches your back. 

"Fuck me! Cum inside me! Make me a mommy."

"You're going to take my load. You're going to be so full. "

"Fill me up. Breed me. " Said Rosé.

"Get on all fours. I want to fuck you from behind. " You command her.

Rosé listens and the young woman gets down on all fours. You can't get enough of the view.

With her hands, she spreads her buttocks, giving you a view of her holes. With your hand, you caress her pussy and Rosé shivers at the contact. 

"What a beautiful pussy you have. " 

"Just for my Daddy. "

"That's right, that pretty and pretty ass is all mine. "

With your finger, you stroke her asshole as you position your cock in front of her pussy hole.

You slide your cock against her pussy.

"So wet. Just for me. "

"Put it in. " Rosé begs you.

"Ask nicely. "

" Put your dick in me Daddy. Smash my pussy."

You start by gently inserting the tip of your cock but Rosé is impatient. With a single thrust, her pussy engulfs your cock, taking you by surprise. You let out a moan of pleasure, Rosé's pussy is so tight.

"What a bad girl. " you say.

Rosé doesn't answer you. The young woman fucks herself on your cock.

"Bad girls deserve punishment. "

You raise your hand and slap her ass. Rosé lets out a cry of pleasure. You keep slapping her ass, increasing the Australian's pleasure.

"Keep fucking yourself. "

You grab her hair and pull it toward you, arching her back. With your other hand, you slap her ass.

"I'm going to cum. " Says Rosé.

You let go of her hair and put all your weight on her. You accentuate the thrusts and whisper in her ear.

"Come Mommy."

It's the final straw for Rose. You feel Rosé's vaginal walls contract around your cock. Rosé begins to tremble and lets out a hoarse cry of pleasure. 

You continue to thrust, determined to cum too. Rosé has understood your intention and continues to move her pelvis.

"Come inside me. Make me a mommy."

Almost like an animal, you give one last thrust and come in the Australian.

Completely exhausted, you drop onto Rosé. Breathing hard, you kiss Rosé's back. You pull out of her and see your cum coming out of her.

"I hope I'm pregnant. "

Rosé turns her head towards you and kisses you lovingly. 

"You'd make such a wonderful father. "

"If we have a child, he or she will be so lucky to have you as their mother. "

"I love you so much. " Rosé kisses you.

"More than anything. " You reply, looking at her lovingly.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Benched

Summary: You’re cut from participating in missons for the foreseeable future; the news was delivered by none other than your girlfriend, Natasha. The torturous break from Avenging seems to be unfair... until you hear the other perspective. Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 2,393 Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, gun use, killing, repressing memories

“I’m sorry?” You weren’t sure if you had heard Natasha’s words correctly; her serious tone didn’t match the saddened look on her face. She was standing across from you as you sat at the empty conference table, summoned only moments ago by the Widow herself.

“We’re benching you from missions until we feel you’re ready.” They didn’t sound any more real this time, either. Natasha, your mentor and girlfriend was telling you to sit the next few missions out. Actually, she was forcing you to sit every mission out for the foreseeable future. You were furious, but tried to keep composed as to not dig a deeper grave.

“Until you feel I’m ready? That’s subjective, how long will it take?” You questioned with crossed arms, your shoulders stuck by your ears out of defense. You’d never been like this around Nat; closed off, defensive, angry. She’d never needed to bar you from missions like this, so it was a first for the both of you.

“We feel your actions on the last mission require some time off.” She explained, noticing the unrelenting confused yet frustrated expression on your face. Natasha felt bad, she was only following the orders of her superiors. They believed that making her relay this information would soften the blow, but as your girlfriend it didn’t make it any easier.  “Look,” She walked around the table, sitting beside you. Her hand found your knee, a soft touch forcing you to unfurl your brows slightly. “This isn’t a punishment. We just want to make sure you’re okay mentally after what happened.”

She was referring to the events of yesterday's mission, something you had hoped would just get buried under the rug. It was supposed to be a simple interrogation; the team would press the target to find some confidential information. The only issue was that the target had a liking for pushing people’s buttons. His jabs were relentless, spitting insults about the people he’d killed like they were nothing.

You were only supposed to hold the gun to his head in a daunting, coercive way. So you did, for a while anyways—until he stated something you didn’t believe was humanly true.

“I don’t regret killing them.” His words had turned your blood to ice, the pointer finger stationed over the trigger shaking out of anger. He was talking about the people he killed to get close to the Avengers. Some of them being your family, the people you loved most. His greedy play was wiping pawns off the table, when in reality they were more than just objects. Natasha was originally reluctant to include you on this mission, due to your emotional connection. But this man had targeted many of the Avenger’s closest relatives, so if she benched you she’d have to bench everyone else.

It turned out she’d have to bench you anyways, as you broke protocol within seconds of his nasty comment. The gun echoed through the cellar you were all stationed in, the man suddenly going quiet as his head lolled to the side. The main source of intel for one of the biggest missions was dead. Everyone’s heads turned toward the responsible weapon; there you were, eyes wide with a smoking gun still held to his head.

After being escorted back to the compound between silent teammates, you locked yourself in your room for the night. Natasha tried to come in, knocking on your bedroom door every so often with tempting offers of cookies or movie nights, but you wouldn’t budge. The next morning, hushed whispers greeted you the second you entered the kitchen. It was obvious they were talking about you, but you couldn’t have cared less. You knew what you did was wrong, and were ready to move on. So, you acted like it didn’t happen.

Maybe that worried the team even more, especially Natasha. You weren’t one to move on from things so quick, especially considering the grudge you held for the man responsible for all that death. Breaking protocol like that and shooting an important hostage was even more out of character, you knew the importance of his intel. Running on impulse, especially in regard to your emotions was unusual, it would be for any trained agent.

But it all caught up with you, and clearly the team discussed a plan of action behind your back. They believed your slip up was more than just a mistake—that there was something deeper behind it. It was slightly offensive, seeing them assume you were emotionally inept that they didn’t even include you in the conversation. You didn’t even think hard enough on what happened to realize maybe they were right; instead you shoved it deep down inside. Now, the truth was facing you head-on, and there was no escaping it.

This isn’t a punishment? You repeated Natasha’s words in your head. It sure felt like one, your favorite thing in life being withheld like a kid getting their iPad taken away. Everyone knew how much your work meant to you, so why would they take away the one thing you loved doing? Besides, you felt fine mentally. The past was in the past, and you were ready to move forward.

“I’m fine, I swear. Please, Nat—don’t take me out of the running just because I made a mistake.” You pleaded, looking to her with a softened expression. The two of you were close, having been in an official relationship for months now. But this was uncharted territory, and the thread connecting you both was slipping as this new side of you was showing. It was her turn to become defensive as she withdrew her hand.

“A mistake? You killed our most important hostage! If you weren’t one of our top agents, Fury would’ve had you fired!” She was right, but you weren’t going to admit that. Instead you huffed, leaning back in your chair as your gaze found anywhere to look but at Natasha.

“I couldn’t let him get away with what he did.” You muttered, shaking your head. Natasha took a deep breath, concern slowly rising across her face. It was easy to see the hurt on your face, even without directly mentioning your family. They were your everything, and he killed them like they were nothing. But two wrongs don’t make a right, every agent knew that. You should’ve known that. And she didn’t want you to jeopardize your job—your passion, over your stubbornness. She leaned toward you slowly, her eyebrows lowering.

“See, this is what scares me. You knew we’d find justice eventually, but you could’t wait and it blew the entire mission.” Natasha spoke carefully, her words making your stomach churn. Scared?Blew the entire mission? Even for her, these were hasty conclusions to draw.

You crossed your arms again. “What are you insinuating?” To say you blew the entire mission was harsh, even if it was true. An agent would never blame another, not directly like this; especially when that agent was your girlfriend. You knew there was more to it, the ice hidden underneath her tone queued you in.

“That now your family will never get the justice they deserve.” Her words are like knives, stabbing straight into your heart. You weren’t sure if she was trying to break you, or if she truly felt this way. That your mistake cost the entire mission, one that was supposed to avenge your dead relatives. Your eyes went wide with shock, expression frozen as you processed the very words that left her lips. They weren’t coming from your girlfriend; the girl you loved would never say such a thing.

Natasha doesn’t flinch, yet unbeknownst to you she was heartbroken on the inside. You both felt like a stranger was standing opposite, your actions and her words causing a rift between the connection that was strong mere days ago. You were impatient, emotional, and couldn’t follow the stupid protocol, and now it may have cost your job and maybe even your girlfriend.

Your eyes narrowed, oozing with betrayal. “You don’t mean that.” Words softer than the hardened expression painting your face, you were almost speechless. Once again, Natasha left you questioning if what she said was actually true, or just a figment of your imagination.

She nodded once, slowly, like a predator bowing its head to prey. You were officially benched, and there was no arguing your way out of it.

—————-

2 weeks, 4 days, 1 hour, and 37 minutes had passed since you were forced to stay within the many walls of the compound. Not like anyone was counting, though. Although spacious and full of various forms of entertainment, the large facility made you feel restless after the first day. You grew bored, itching to get your hands on new cases or even old mission reports.

The quinjet was taunting you. Standing outside the large glass window, calling your name as you sat inside waiting for the go-ahead. But as the hours, days, and weeks passed, it never came. You hadn’t spoken to Natasha since the fight—only exchanging quick glances through narrowed eyes or inconspicuous expressions in passing. Instead, you bothered everyone else about it.

“No, you’re still on temp-leave,” someone would say. “Take some time to relax, focus on yourself.” More voices would eventually join in. It was unrelenting; the only ‘self-care’ you cared about was the one thing that genuinely made you happy: Avenging. But everyone was stuck following orders, keeping you locked inside the compound with your own self to blame.

When everyone left you alone at the compound to go on missions, It gave you time to reflect. You paced the halls replaying the mission over and over, eventually shaking your head as the memory morphed into the shape of your family. You didn’t want to think about them, so you simply filled your time with busywork in order to keep the hurt at bay.

After picking up a few new hobbies, discovering some newfound talents, and recovering old favorite pastimes, you still felt a hole where Avenging used to be. You missed it, and this time off was making you feel worse, if anything. On the 20th day, you built up the courage to talk with Natasha. She was tame the past few days, finally offering you the occasional smile when you made the team dinner, or handing you baked goods when she went on her usual coffee run.

Natasha was sitting in the empty living room, typing on her laptop as she glanced between the screen and some mission reports. “Hey,” you spoke softly, sitting down on the couch opposite of her. Her green eyes popped up, eyebrows lifting ever-so-slightly. You had her attention. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have belittled my actions that hurt other people, it was truly more than just a mistake and I feel terrible about it.” You were speaking truthfully, and Nat could tell; but she wasn’t satisfied.

Shutting her laptop, she stacked her work off to the side with full intrigue. “Tell me, have you thought about your parents during this time off?” She questioned. You swallowed thickly, immediately regretting your half-assed apology when there was more to it than just feeling bad about your actions. You hadn’t thought about your parents, mostly on purpose; and Natasha was hoping to get after exactly that.

“Look, love,” Her tone softened slightly, and the use of the nickname made you feel even the smallest bit more comfortable. She was still yours, and you were still hers, it was all just on hiatus for the moment—like your job. “This break wasn’t supposed to be time for you to feel bad about what you did. It was time for you to process what happened.” Natasha stood, moving to sit next to you as her words made the air catch in your lungs.

“You can’t change the fact your family has passed, and I need you to have a chance to grieve before we send you back onto the field.” To an average person, everything she was saying made sense. But the issue was, you didn’t want to pause and take the time to process what happened. You wanted to swallow it all and move on to whatever job would come next. But Natasha knew the dangers of that.

You took a deep breath, your gaze finding the floor. “I told you, Nat. I’m fine to go out onto the field. I’ve thought over everything and I feel ready.” You countered, eyes meeting hers as you really tried to convince her. She found your hand, gripping it tightly with both of hers.

“Then tell me exactly what he did to your parents.” Her words hit your chest like a boulder, all of the air you once had no longer existing as your breathing stopped. It was a test, and she knew you wouldn’t be able to answer without breaking down. And fortunately for her, it worked. Tears welled in your eyes, the flood of emotion hitting the wall you built in an attempt to avoid it. But it wasn’t strong enough this time, Natasha knew all the right buttons to push. You gave in, allowing each tear, each sob, to have a chance to see the light as you leaned into Natasha.

“That’s it.” She cooed, pulling you close into her shoulder. Her hands ran through your hair, offering a comforting touch you desperately missed. The person she loved dearly was slowly coming back, the agent who wasn’t just a stone-cold face ready to suppress all emotion in the name of work. Being an Avenger wasn’t just about being brave for others, it was about being your best self so you were capable of offering that support on the field. The entire time, you missed the true meaning of the hiatus.

But now, you were back on track. Natasha was glad to see you finally start the long road to processing your grief, and she’d be there the entire journey. You were grateful to have her, and suddenly even more grateful she gave you the time off in the first place. If you weren’t so naive and stubborn, maybe it would have been easier for you in the long run. But that didn’t matter, because with Natasha, time felt like it didn’t exist.

[cattordi]

2. the new neighbor 🥥

a/n 𓇼 hello again! enjoy and i hope yall get the oth reference at the end

summary 𓇼 after returning to the obx, you rent the cameron’s guest house; forcing you into close proximity with your ex boyfriend— rafe.

pairings 𓇼 pogue!reader x exbf!rafecameron

warnings 𓇼 not proofread, alcohol, angst, suggestive thoughts, “drunk” driving

˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹

“maybe you still love her” topper says as he grabs his 9-iron. after your small argument, you went on your run and rafe was destined to distract himself.

now it’s 12, rafe is on his 6th beer and drunkenly playing golf with his best friend, topper.

“i definitely don’t love her anymore. that ship sailed the second she fucking left me.” rafe groans, sitting on the golf cart, “i don’t think i could ever love her again. let alone any woman.”

“that’s what i said about sarah,” topper begins before swinging, “now im with ruthie and im happy.”

rafe rolls his eyes, “you’re happy. not happier.”

“and you’re just sad.” topper shrugs, walks over, and drives the golf cart to find his ball, “you need to find someone or something that makes you happy because you’ve been in this slump for too long. it’s getting hard to watch.”

rafe rolls his eyes again, and takes a sip of his beer; but his mind keeps wandering back to you. he missed you. he could deny it to everyone else but deep down he knew.

he’d found out about your arrival when rose told your dad you’d settled in nicely. rafe stormed out of the house the moment he heard, mainly disappointed his family didn’t mention your coming to stay with them.

after that, he planned to stay as far away from you as he could, avoiding you at all cost, even if that meant moving out, but that quickly went out the window.

when he heard you getting water, he originally thought it was wheezie and he was coming downstairs to tell her to quiet it down. he hadn’t expected it to be you.

the way your hair went down your back, the way all his shirts fit you, the way your ass fit in every pair of pants, the way you smelled.

he’d missed you and never thought he’d be able to experience those things again, but the anger he felt when he saw you.. it was unimaginable.

he wanted you out of his life just as much as he wanted you in it.

𓇼

“jj put me down!” you scream as jj runs at you, picks you up, and jumps off the deck into the lake. quickly, you both resurface, and he’s laughing.

“sorry y/n. i’ve just missed you.”

after your run, you and sarah drove over to “the cut”, the south side of kildare island; where you’re from.

your parents were never the richest, but they always made it work. you adored that about them. no matter what the circumstances were, they made it happen.

“i’ve missed you too j” you admit, moving your hair out of your face.

you’d met “the core four” or jj, kie, john b, and pope in middle school. you’d had ever class with pope, and eventually you joined their clique. they quickly became your best friends.

“how was new york? plan on going back?”

“trying to get rid of her already j?” kie begins as she walks towards the dock, “she just got back.”

“never baby.” jj mumbles as he swims over towards the dock, pulling himself up. seeing them together makes you smile, considering jj has always liked kie.

“i got drinks!” a voice yells from the chateau, john b’s house.

the three of you look up to see john b with two brown unlabeled bags, sarah following closely beside him, and pope and cleo walking hand in hand towards the dock.

kie and jj run over excitedly as you get out of the water. the sight of the three couples makes your heart heavy.

your feelings for rafe were still so strong, but the breakup was for the best, and you strongly believed so.

𓇼

around 10pm, you and sarah head back to tanneyhill, both of you slightly drunk but sober enough to drive.

once you make it back, sarah quickly goes up to her room, telling you goodnight.

you smile as she leaves, and walks towards the guest house.

“y/n!” a deep voice says from behind you and you automatically know it’s rafe.

you turn around, sternly. “hm?”

he’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. his longer hair he had when you two dated was now replaced by a buzz cut and you couldn’t lie: he looked good.

“where ‘ave you been?” he ask, stumbling over his words.

“i was with sarah down in figure 8.” you start, stepping towards him slightly amused, “are you drunk rafe?”

“i had like 1,” he begins counting on his fingers, “2,3,4,4…9 drinks maybe.”

“hm” you grab his hand, “cmon”

you drag him into his house, immediately heading upstairs to his room. upon entering, you immediately notice how dark it is. not because of the lights being off but because of his blue walls.

“your walls…” you stutter and turn the lights on.

“yup.” rafe says and he sounds as sober as ever.

“why’d you paint them?”

“got ‘ired of the white.” he groans as he flops down onto his bed; quickly drifting off.

you rummage through his drawers, grabbing a tshirt and shorts, and slowly changed his clothes. after you do your best to tuck him into bed, trying not to wake up.

once done you turn off his lights and walk towards the door. just as you open it rafe says, “y/n?”

“yeah?”

“i hate you.” he says coldly, and turns over, his back facing you.

[lazycats-stuff]

Could you write a batfam story where the reader, who's in an established marriage with Bruce Wayne, accidentally triggers Jason? Perhaps the Wayne family has kept Bruce and Jason's past hardships a secret from the reader, thinking it wasn't important to discuss. However, a misunderstanding between the reader and Jason causes Jason to run away after being triggered of his pass. The rest of the family understands that it was a misunderstanding and tells the reader that Jason will come back and not to worry. They explain Jason's troubled pass with Bruce. However, the reader is consumed by so much guilt and sets out to find Jason. Literally the reader goes and searches Gotham top to bottom IN THE MIDDLE OF A HURRICANE! 😭The reader ends up locating Jason in a warehouse, where Jason’s freezing and the rain is pouring right through. More happens but I want the story to like end where the reader and Jason are crying together in the pouring rain and Jason realizes that he now has a loving dad that would do anything to ensure his and his brothers safety. And like the reader brings Jason back to the manor and everyone else is thinking to themselves like damn, (y/n) really is the best thing to happen to this family, literally the damn glue. Or something… like if (y/n) wasn’t there to save Jason he could have been dead… again.

I am sorry this is so long… i just couldn’t stop thinking of this story dynamic 😊

Oh, my jay bird... Of course I can do it... My poor bird. Also, 2k followers? Why thank you. Also, taking some time off to focus on college because I have some shit coming up. To say lightly.

Summary: The family didn't tell (Y/N) about Jason's trauma. And that causes problems and some broken hearts.

Warnings: Mentions of Jason's past, but nothing graphic, (Y/N) is done with emotional constipation from everyone, but he still loves them a lot, also hurricane.

(Y/N) has been in the family for a few years now. Married with the patriarch of the family, Bruce Wayne, was the best decision he has ever made. Bruce, while known to the public as a playboy at the time, abandoned that mindset, all for (Y/N). Boys accepted (Y/N), once they saw that (Y/N) wasn't marrying Bruce for money. (Y/N) will be marrying him for love.

Were there a few hiccups with Bruce being Batman and all the nightly patrols? Yes. However, (Y/N) and Bruce worked through it. And more importantly, (Y/N) essentially adopted all of the boys as his own. He saw them as his own sons rather than looking at them as their stepsons. And besides, saying that they are his sons brings (Y/N) an indescribable amount of happiness. And besides, living with 4 boys is always fun.

(Y/N) knew about their trauma, but what no one told him was the trauma that Jason went through. He had a vague idea, but never knew exactly. He didn't feel qualified to prod around in anyone's head, anyone's mind, but he made sure to let them all know that if they need to talk about something, get something off of their chest, he is the person they can come to talk to.

And it has happened a few times. Sometimes they would come after a nightmare, squeezing between (Y/N) and Bruce, looking for comfort. Now, everyone was unsure as to what to call him. Batdad or mother hen... That one remains to be determined soon enough by the boys.

It was a tough day for everyone in the household and everyone was ready to straight up murder each other. (Y/N) had an awful day at work, Bruce had a bad day as a CEO and as Batman, well, the Batman part was only the night before, but has moved onto the day. The other boys had difficult days at school and at patrol. Jason had a big problem with his nightmares and flashbacks. Not to mention, Gotham was expecting a hurricane to come over and just sweep over it. It shouldn't be bad and there shouldn't be any damage besides any heavy rain.

Gotham natives are used to rains, whether they be small drizzles or storms. However, Bruce worried about it and made sure to get enough supplies, just in case. Safe to say, everyone was on absolute edge. Closed into the same house, despite it being a manor and absolutely huge, tension could be cut with a knife.

And then, Jason and (Y/N) started fighting. It started off as bickering, but then it turned into a fight where hurtful things were said towards each other. Jason, mentally pushed to the limit by the nightmares and flashbacks has had enough and went to his car. He drove off and (Y/N) was fuming still.

But...

When the anger went away, (Y/N) was mortified. Completely and utterly mortified. He essentially crushed whatever relationship he had with Jason. Words hurt more than any punches and any kicks. No matter what Jason went through, (Y/N) was sure that Jason was hurting like hell now.

(Y/N) couldn't stop pacing in the living room, wondering what is happening to Jason at this very moment. A hurricane is going to pass through soon enough, Jason went to God knows where and (Y/N)'s own heart was breaking apart.

" (Y/N), love, you need to calm down. Jason will be fine. He just needs space. "

" Space?! In the middle of a hurricane?! " (Y/N) now yelled, upset beyond belief. He has upset his son and he was telling him to calm down? He might kick Bruce out of their bed.

Bruce then talked about all the trauma that Jason went through, before he adopted him, after he adopted him at the hands of Joker. (Y/N) was now absolutely mortified.

" Father is right. Jason needs some time to cool off. " Damian said in passing, making (Y/N) throw his hands up in the air.

" Is anyone in this damn house emotionally available?! "

Tim shrugged from the sofa and (Y/N) took a deep breath. Bruce watched intently and he could see what (Y/N) was thinking.

" Do not tell me you are going out there. " Bruce said as (Y/N) put his jacket and shoes on.

Dick and Damian paused to watch the entire thing unfold. Tim looked up from his tablet.

" I am. Jason is my son and I'm going to get him back. Tim, track Jason's phone and send me the location. " (Y/N) said, ignoring Bruce. Bruce rubbed his forehead. (Y/N) is a stubborn bastard when he wants to be. And does Bruce love him for it? Yes. Is it annoying sometimes? Yes.

" There is a hurricane! " Tim yelled after (Y/N) as he stormed out.

" (Y/N)! " Bruce yelled after his husband, but it was too late. (Y/N) was already out the door.

" He's nuts, " Damian said underneath his breath.

" And I married him, " Bruce added.

Jason has started to regret the fact that he has decided to even come out here. Sure, (Y/N) and him got into a fight, nasty things were said, but it would be better if he has just stormed up to his room and slammed his door shut. That would have been a better option than this. This damp warehouse, where there was leaking rain wherever you looked...

Jason was shivering, teeth chattering. Cold probably seeped right to his bones. Hypothermia was also on its way too, Jason had no doubt about it. He leaned back against the wall, curling into himself as much as he could and allowed himself to think about what happened with (Y/N), his dad in a way.

They were all on edge from the hurricane, supplies, wifi and all that stuff was needed just in case. Bruce made sure to make the manor proof of any natural disasters. Gotham wouldn't be hit that badly, so there was no need for evacuation, but there was advice to be cautious about it. Everyone was on edge as it is from being cooped up together too much, since Bruce didn't want them to stray too far, just in case.

And Jason being in a foul mood from his nightmares already, he didn't like this one bit. He wanted to be alone, but no. Common areas are a must according to Bruce. So the fight happened and both of them said really hurtful things to each other. And Jason felt guilty. He knew that emotions took over them both, but still... (Y/N) was always trying to be good to them all.

It was wrong.

Jason looked up at the door when he heard a slam. It could be wind. Or maybe someone trying to find shelter?

What Jason didn't expect was (Y/N), wet to the bone, looking around frantically. When his eyes fell on Jason, he sighed in relief.

" Oh Jay, I've been looking for you everywhere! Are you okay?! " (Y/N) ran up to Jason, quickly kneeling down to check to see if he had any injuries. Jason was touched... To have a genuine parent, a loving parent, alongside Bruce, but Bruce is a bit emotionally constipated so (Y/N) is essentially everything that the boys need.

" Bruce told me what you've been through... And now I know why you ran, what made you so upset. It was a combination of everything plus the hurricane. "

Jason nodded and (Y/N) hugged him tightly. Jason hugged him back just as tightly, if not more.

And the two broke down in tears, holding onto each other tightly.

Bruce was pacing in the living room, worried about (Y/N) and Jason. He should have gone after Jason too. He shouldn't have been so stupid. He should have chased Jason down the moment he left the mansion. But no, he's too emotionally constipated to deal with this. Great. Absolutely great.

He flipped his head around when he heard the front door open and then close and then two sets of footsteps. Jason and (Y/N) stepped into the living room, both soaked to the bone.

" Bruce, " (Y/N) said calmly and Bruce had a feeling he would be kicked out of the bedroom.

" (Y/N)... Are you two okay? " Bruce asked softly and (Y/N) nodded, smiling at Jason.

" We are B. Jay, go down to the Batcave. Take a warm shower and get changed into warm clothes. I'm sure the others are there too." (Y/N) softly nudged Jason to get going.

Jason took the hint and went to the Batcave. Once he was gone, Bruce turned to (Y/N).

" I'm sorry. I truly am. I should have gone after him, but I was- "

" Stupid? Yeah. Clearly. But I'm willing to forgive. I assume that the cots are ready? "

" Yup. I prepared you warm clothes, some earplugs so that you can't be awaken by the bats. And also a mask so that you won't be awoken by the lights of the cave. You know, reflectors, Batcomputer... Come on. " Bruce gently lead his cold and wet husband to the Batcave. " A warm shower is in order too. "

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, knowing that he will be forced into a warm shower, warm and dry clothes and an intense cuddling session, where Bruce won't let go, out of fear and love... How did he even marry into this crazy family?

[kaoskuantico]

I hate Act III, sorry. All the second season was too rushed and some characters that didn't deserve a happy ending got it, and those who have been suffering got the worst ending.

Acts I and II were good, but III is the worst.

In case someone hasn't seen Act III yet, ARCANE ACT III SPOILERS

No one cares but here's a list of the things I hated:

Too rushed, I think we needed another season BEFORE this one

WTF Caitvi sex scene IN JINX'S CELL, RIGHT AFTER SHE LEFT. That's so disrespectful and stupid, Vi wasn't in the right state of mind, as much as I love Caitvi, putting that scene there was a mistake

I'm sorry but I also hate Timebomb (I'm a Lightcannon shipper, which is funny because Lux doesn't even show up in Arcane, but one can dream though fanarts)

Jinx surrendering (why we didn't even get a flashback scene?) and being imprisoned like a dog. Yet the enforcers were never punished

Vi not listening to Jinx telling her MULTIPLE TIMES to get out of there, and because of her, Jinx sacrifices herself (yes, I know she's most likely alive. But that brings my next point:)

Jinx not getting a happy ending at all. She lost everyone, right when she was about to get rehabilitated, Isha dies right in front of her. And we didn't get any Sevika dialogue with her, not even trying to save Jinx (Sevika surely didn't know, but at least a scene where she looks for Isha and Jinx???)

The final scene where Vi is only seen with Caitlyn. Yes, I knew they'd end up together and they deserve it, but what about everything that happened? Losing all her family? Learning to fight just to lose everything and everyone? Ekko not talking to Vi at all after the war? Vi not mourning Jinx?

Why make Jayce and Mel be together if they were going to forget about it and act like it didn't happen? (I prefer Jayvik, but that's another story)

Jinx saving Caitlyn, but apparently that didn't matter at all. Jinx killed her mother, yes. But enforcers killed countless of people, including Jinx and Vi's parents. Even if Jinx surrendered, why put her in that isolated jail? That was Caitlyn's grief acting

Honestly I don't know why Isha had to sacrifice herself, I feel it was too unnecessary, just to traumatize Jinx even more and kill Warwick again.

I wanted to see more of Vi, of her life in prison and before their parents died (besides Vander's memories). But they put too much focus on Caitlyn and the Caitvi

Caitlyn (and every enforcer) didn't get punish at all for their crimes. Caitlyn became a dictator because Jinx killed her mother, but countless of children saw their own parents be murdered in front of them, and now they're the bad guys for attacking back? Mind you, at least Jinx aimed her weapon to the Council, the people who oppressed them. But Piltover kills civilians like nothing, putting CHILDREN in jail. At the end, they end up like the good guys, giving Zaun a seat in the Council. When they should have fought for it, making Piltover pay for everything they've done. Which brings my next two points:

Zaun is never set free, it's still part of Piltover

Following the previous point: Caitlyn becomes a dictator, Viktor a cult god who almost destroys the world. But Jinx is so unredeemable???

Vi accepting Cait immediately, as if act I didn't happen. I understand they wanted to make Caitvi canon, but it was too rushed.

The 'good timeline' being like that because Vi died???? WTF the enforcers wanted a name, ANYONE to put the blame on, so the Council could 'make an example'. And now suddenly everything is okay? The abuse from Piltover is gone? But even if that were true, it's sad it would take Vi's death so peace could exist

Cait put Jinx, a traumatized, suicidal and schizophrenic girl in an ISOLATED CELL.

In a more relaxed note, I hate the design of Powder in the other timeline. I have to admit I absolutely love Jinx's design, with her bang and long braids but damn I expected a Powder with a single braid and a better sense of fashion xd

I understand Ambessa was behind everything, she was using Caitlyn recent grief to manipulate her. But she never apologized, her actions can't be erased, she said it herself.

I'll probably keep updating the list for a few days.

[draco-dormiens]

FOR ALL THAT IS RIGHT AND JUST - Chp. 1

auror!draco x auror!fem!slytherin reader / post-war au

a/n: sorry about my inconsistent ass. i'm hoping you enjoy this first chapter after i changed it a little, makes better sense for the story to come. sit back and relax cos this is nearly 4000 words bby ♡

warnings: talk of the war, people missing/kidnapping, strong language, mutual pining

wc: 3984

tags: @yeolsbubbles @send-me-styles @shinytalent

tag list open!!

masterlist

Ministry Mayhem

London, 1st May 2007

In the early hours of Tuesday morning, as the sun rose and began to cast it's orangey glow through the gaps in the bedroom curtains, the first ring of an alarm blared a rather unwelcome sound throughout the quietness of the small London flat that you called home. Sleepily, you peel your eyes open to read the time; 6:15am. With a soft grunt, you reach out to slam the snooze button with all the strength you could muster. A typical day, no less, was awaiting you at the Auror office of the British Ministry of Magic, and it was about to wait a little longer, too.

Besides, it wasn't as if anything was in dire need of solving. For the last ten years, the wizarding world had come to know a peace that had long escaped it. The fear and uncertainty that comes with nasty rumours, shadowy figures and the whispers of war was long over now. Harry Potter had fought and won against the most fearsome Dark Wizard in all of history, and now he was keeping the peace as Head of the Auror Office. Although, it wasn't all that exciting nowadays. The more gripping cases ranged from bewitched broomsticks to Oblivating Muggles in the wrong place at the wrong time. It certainly wasn't taking a whole team of Aurors to clear the workload, with most officers getting fidgety and frustrated. It was as if they wanted something to happen; in your eyes, you'd rather be Oblivating an elderly woman who saw a young boy riding a broomstick over London than some raging lunatic.

The clock blares again. Another tap of the snooze button. For a moment, you thought you'd heard knocking at your window. No, you think, I'm just tired. Five more minutes and I'll get up.

It wasn't your first choice, becoming an Auror. During your school years as a young Slytherin, you were certain it was Ancient Runes that you would pursue. That was long before the brewing storm started to reach its boiling point, clouding up any chance you had of finishing school. The prospect of war had reached civilians, and along with it a great fear of the unknown. It was perilous to venture outside of your home; your parents had been cautious to send you back for sixth year. The rumours were terrible. Frightening, even, especially when it was becoming clearer that most of them were true. Even the ones in your own family. A vivid memory of your father arguing in hushed whispers with your uncle one night over Christmas break, had solidified a fear that had been nagging your parents for a long while.

"You can't," your father said, almost spitting the words as you pressed your ear to the door, "don't go to him. Don't give your life away for something so ludicrous."

Your friends began whispering amongst themselves. Troublesome tales of someone you had known your whole life had started circulating around the school. A hard pill to swallow, but one you had to force down eventually.

"My parents said he's right," Pansy had muttered one night in the common room, the glow of the fire just lighting up her face, "I'm starting to think that following him is the better way to go."

"Have you seen Draco lately? He looks dreadful. His attitude is somehow worse." Daphne whispered, and then gulped, "you don't think... surely not, right? He's only our age."

"Dunno, heard his father was a follower during the first war," Blaise then added, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, "I wouldn't hold your breath. I think he's one of them."

You stir in your sleep as if an unpleasant dream had began to plague your slumber. The clock blares its final warning, and with it, a series of sharp, jarring taps at your window that only grow in volume the longer you lay there. Groggily, you get up, slamming the alarm clock as you make your way to the impatient visitor. As you pull back the curtain, you see a familiar owl perched on the window sill with a letter secured in its beak. You open the window and gently take it from it's grip, and with a mighty swoosh of its wings, it soars off over the city. Ripping open the letter, you hadn't bothered to notice the wax seal of the Auror office, and begin to read:

Get down to the office as soon as you can. Sending this to everyone. It's serious.

From the handwriting you can tell who the sender is. Though still half asleep, you understand the urgency and begin rushing to get dressed. As you button the last hole on your blouse, readying yourself to enter the Ministry through the Floo network, you hear a knock at your door. Grumbling about who it could be and marching across the living room, you swing it open to be met with your, quite literal, partner in crime.

"Draco." You say simply, a smile ghosting your lips. He beams back, his attire as pristine as if he just walked out of the store. His white hair not an inch out of place, his black suit and white button down completely creaseless, and a glimmering Auror badge on his jacket to top it all off. He flashes a pearly white smile, leaning against the door frame with that same old cocky demeanour. Draco appears in some of your earliest memories as a child, and even now in work, he was a significant part of your everyday life. Growing up as children of wealthy pureblood families, it was a regular practice to mingle with those of your kind. Even though his personality was an acquired taste, despite your differing views and childish bickering, he was still both a thorn in your side and a priceless friend.

Friend. For as long as you can remember.

"Morning, take it you got Potters note?" He said, sauntering in to your apartment like it was his own, "reckon he's being a bit dramatic, don't you? Probably just dropped a biscuit in his brew."

"I doubt he'd send an owl all over London for a biscuit, Draco," you call back, hurrying to get the rest of your things together before leaving, "I think something is genuinely wrong, and I'm a little worried if I'm honest. We haven't had anything major in... well, forever."

"You know, if you'd told me in like, fifth year, that one day I'd be clambering out of bed before seven in the morning for Potter, I'd probably have pitched myself off the highest turret." Draco said dramatically, just after accusing Harry of being equally as ridiculous.

"Stop moaning and get in the fireplace," you said as if it were something normal people say on a regular basis, "we need to get down there and find out what's happening."

Draco, still mumbling, clambers into your fireplace and waits for you to squeeze in next to him. Much smaller than his own, he's bent doubly to get in, and ushers you to get the Floo powder before his back gives in. His moaning is only met with a rather stern look from yourself. You take a handful of Floo powder from the little bag sitting on the hearth, and take Draco's hand in yours. With a chant, you fling the powder down at your feet, and with a puff of green smoke, you both disappear, leaving the small flat empty and silent.

In the blink of an eye, you're no longer standing in your living room, but instead in the shiny, emerald tiled entrance to the Ministry. Draco dusts himself down, tutting at the slight specs of soot on his jacket, not noticing how you've become stiff with shock.

"Bloody Floo network," he mumbles to himself, coming to stand beside you, "how are you spotless? It's always me that gets-"

He stops his rambling when his eyes follow your line of vision to see the hoard of people just up ahead, swarming the foyer like ants, an incoherent jumble of noises filling the air from cries to shouts. All extremely well dressed and rather wealthy looking, you both got the impression that these people were not average witches and wizards: they were, in fact, much like yourselves - from old, pureblood money.

"What in Merlin's name is all of this?" You mutter, mostly to yourself, as your feet start to carry you towards the mess, Draco following behind. In the midst of all the chaos, is Delphina Sallow, the lady that usually operates the front desk of the Auror office. Delphina was a tall, slender woman with very dark hair and pale blue eyes, which were a striking contrast to her rather ghostly complexion. A nervous sort of woman, she was struggling immensely in a heated conversation with a man you recognised as Mr Selwyn, whose son was in your year at Hogwarts. Much larger than back then, with his pointer finger jabbing the air furiously, he seems to be, at best, enraged.

"This is a travesty, young lady!" He bellows at Delphina, who has resorted to using her clipboard for protection against the wave of saliva, "my son has been taken, taken I tell you, right from under our noses! Sleeping soundly he was; I can see him sitting there during third supper, not a care in the world, enjoying his fourth lamb chop like the innocent boy he is. I demand justice, young lady, or so help me I'll sue the entire Auror office for all it's bloody well worth."

"P-please, sir, I'm only the receptionist, I-I don't have any authority to help you-"

"No authority?" Mr Selwyn shouts with such force, his large moustache almost flies off of his round, purple face, "I do not care for your position, young lady, get me someone who can find my son or I'll be in the right mind to get you fired. I know people in high places, you know!"

"Excuse me," you interrupt as you reach them, Delphina's face washing over with absolute relief, "can I ask what's going on here? Miss Sallow is not an officer, sir. If you have concerns, please take them up with someone clearly wearing a badge."

You point abruptly to the shining Auror badge on your jacket. Mr Selwyn scoffs irritably.

"Well, miss badge, I demand you find my son. At once." He rounds on you, his large, bulbous belly almost touching you before he can get any closer. Draco appears almost instantly, standing just in front of you, the most condescending smile curling at his lips, trying and failing to hide the clear desire to swing a fist into Mr Selwyns beetroot coloured face.

"If you get any closer, sir, I may have to resort to unsavoury means. All in the name of law, you understand." Draco stood completely straight, towering over the stumpy Mr Selwyn, to which the angered man grunted something under his breath before waddling off to his next victim.

"Thank you," Delphina sighs, dabbing the sweat on her forehead with a handkerchief, "he's not the only one I've dealt with this morning. So many reports of missing persons, all within the last few hours or so. I-it's my day off, I'm only here on Mr Potter's orders."

"As are we, Miss Sallow," Draco smiles at Delphina, to which she blushes furiously, "I think you should head back up. Tell Potter we're here, would you?"

As if the Minister himself had instructed her, she scurries off to the lifts.

"Honestly, you could tell Del to jump off a cliff." You scoff lightheartedly, turning back to see a rather smug looking Draco, as he simply fixes his tie and winks down at you.

"It's the charm, darling. Don't say it doesn't affect you, too."

Before he can bask in your flustered reaction, off in the distance, amongst more distraught civilians, you spot Cerberus Langarm, fellow Auror, rushing through the crowds of people with a look of pure determination on his face. You tug on Draco's arm, inciting him to follow you, as you battle through to chase Cerberus. Amid the madness, you hear a mixture of complaints and angry voices from the hoard of people. As you close in on Cerberus, you call out to him, causing him to halt and turn at the sound of your voice.

"I take it you both got letters, then?" Cerberus says as you reach him, "didn't know what we'd be walking into, but this is something else. Somehow, I don't think it's about a bewitched broomstick this time."

Cerberus Langarm was a tall, well built man with sun-kissed, olive skin and dark, shaved hair. He kept a very neatly trimmed moustache, and under his left eye was a deep scar that covered most of his cheek. He was a man dedicated to his duty, and other aspects of his life came second to it, which Draco often made a joke about. Cerberus was a well accomplished man of the law, and highly respected amongst his fellow officers and higher ups.

Sometimes, you wondered if Draco was a little jealous of Cerberus and his undeniable ability to walk into a room and make it sing for him.

"Delphina said something about missing person reports," you being to explain as the three of you make for the lifts, "and I have noticed something; most of these people, they look like a certain group of wizards. Don't you think?"

"You mean rich, pompous purebloods who have nothing better to do than flash their money and complain about Muggles?" Cerberus said, "yeah, they seem the sort. All I know is that Potter better have an explanation for all of this."

The lifts were especially busy; people were squashed like sardines in a can, garnering irritable tuts and mumblings amongst the staff trying to reach their destinations. The three of you manage to squeeze into a lift heading for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; whispers of the going's on in the foyer filled the usually awkward silence, as the relatively short journey felt like an eternity.

Once the lift had landed at the correct floor, the three of you took no time in squeezing out of the overflowing space and into the open air. For what felt like a moment of relief, was soon overtaken by the mayhem that you were presented with. The department was practically torn apart; papers everywhere, frantic officers pacing back and forth between rooms, folded notes in the shape of paper airplanes zoomed up and down the hallway, narrowly missing your head when one bolted for the lift doors, making it just in time before they slammed shut.

"Salazar's mother," Cerberus muttered, looking back at yourself and Draco whose eyes were transfixed by the sight, "we better find Potter."

Meanwhile, inside Harry's office, stood Harry and Auror Penelope Fawley, assessing the multitude of reports from that morning. They could hear the muffled sound of panic outside, the office workers were working relentlessly to try and get some sort of order in the place. Piles of letters sat upon Harry's desk, as the two of them read aloud the contents of the reports.

"During the night we heard strange ongoings in the neighbours backyard, sounds of magic and a man's voice," says Penelope outloud, "my husband got out of bed and lit up the room with his wand, before trekking down the stairs to peer out of the kitchen window. He thinks he saw two people appartating from the neighbours garden, but his eyesight is not what it used to be. Then, at around 5:30am, we received a knock on the door. It was Mrs Selwyn. Her son was missing."

Penelope, a fair-haired, pretty woman with dark blue eyes, ran her perfectly manicured finger across the parchment as she read. Harry, now pacing up and down the office with his chin in his hand, listened carefully to what Penelope was reading aloud. She places down the parchment and picks up another letter, tearing it open and unfolding the note inside. Penelope clears her throat and begins reading once more:

"I received an owl from my sister a few days ago. She was worried that someone had been outside her house during the night, but couldn't seem to undo the Colloportus charm her husband casts on all the doors when he works nights. She has young children, and they live in a relatively secluded place." Penelope read, and then perched against the desk, "I owled back immediately, but didn't seem to receive a reply. Then around 6:00am this morning, her husband, Blaise Zabini, showed up at our door. My sister, Daphne Zabini, was missing from her bed when he returned home from work. The children were still sound asleep and seemingly untouched."

Harry comes to a halt at the window overlooking Muggle London below. With a great sigh, he rubs his tired eyes that had been awake since the early hours of the morning. As he turns to speak to Penelope, they both hear heavy, hurried footsteps beyond the door, and within a few seconds, you burst in, all guns blazing, Cerberus and Draco in hot pursuit.

"I do hope you have an explantation, Harry," you pant slightly, "what on earth is happening? Missing witches and wizards - and what was Delphina doing in foyer; she was getting practically spat at by Mr Selwyn, and not to mention the hoard of people downstairs, and the office-"

"Thank you, officer Travers, I'm well aware of the situation both outside my door and in the foyer. In fact, I've been well aware of it since three this morning, so, if you’d be so kind as to ask one question at a time, I'd really appreciate it." said Harry, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Draco stifles a laugh behind you.

"Potter," Cerberus advances forward with urgency, "any kind of light you can shed."

Harry composes himself, and then walks over to his desk, pushing forward what looked like a collection of personal files from the Ministry of Magic Archives; somewhere that a person would need all kinds of permissions to enter. It contained many records - such as historical records, every single published issue of The Daily Prophet, various magical projects and, most importantly, personal files of every witch or wizard that comes into magic across the country.  Draco, his interest now peaked, gently brushes past you with a hand at the small of your back, his eyebrows knitted together in a very curious expression. He begins shuffling through them, his features relaxing into more concern than curiosity when he realises each and every one of them have a big, red stamp across the front that read: Missing.

"These," he breathes, looking up at Harry, who's expression was more exhaustion than anything else, "these are all purebloods... I know half of 'em. Nott, for one. Scrawny devil."

"They all look the sort in the foyer, too," adds Cerberus, "lots of old money and questionable bloodlines down there. Odd coincidence?"

"Not likely," pipes up Penelope, who lifts herself elegantly off the edge of the desk, "every single one of these witches and wizards have gone missing during the last few hours. All of them, and without a single trace. No signs of break ins, no signs of struggle or injury at the locations they went missing from. It's a fair assumption to say they have been kidnapped - and not by some amature."

"So you're saying that a whole bunch of wizards from pure bloodlines have just miraculously been taken from their beds in the night. For what reason, exactly?" Draco raises an eyebrow at Penelope. She doesn't look too impressed by his questioning of her theory.

"Malfoy," Harry said, not with his usual air of authority, however, it was far more pleading, "Penelope has a point. Let me give the bigger picture," Harry slumps down onto his office chair with a heaving sigh, before tucking himself under the desk and resting his elbows on the surface, hands intertwined, "I was called in by the Minister at three o'clock this morning. That's when the first report came in about a missing person. Not long after that, they started coming in troves. One after the other, we couldn't keep up. Hence why I owled," he took a pause, "Penelope was first here, and with her help, we retrieved the personal reports to further investigate the missing persons. We made the connection of their blood status quite quick, and have since then been trying to theorise as to why it only seems to be witches and wizards of a certain blood status."

"I'd say that was quite obvious," said Cerberus, who was a rather serious and right-to-the-point kind of officer, "someone out there has a grudge against them, surprisingly," he said with an air of sarcasm, "but it can't just be one person that has done all of this; there must be some sort of group or organisation. No one, even with magic, can be in all of those places at once."

Penelope suddenly gasped, and everyone looked around at her.

"What about Hogwarts? They need informing immediately. The amount of students, and faculty, that could be in danger tomorrow," she said with the utmost seriousness, "I can go, Harry. I can apparate to Hogsmeade, they won't know a thing unless-"

"Thank you, Penelope, but I have already considered Hogwarts," Harry cut her off gently, and her shoulders slumped in relief, "in fact, I need to speak to Travers and Malfoy. Langarm and Fawely - you go down into the foyer and tell the public to go home and rest. There's nothing more we can do right now without some more information."

The other two left, leaving Harry, Draco and yourself alone in his messy office. Once the door had been shut softly, he ushers you both to take a seat in front of him. You both do so, as Harry relaxes a little in his plush office chair, relishing of the quietness for a moment. 

"As you may already be aware, it's the tenth year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts tomorrow and a memorial service is being held at the school," Harry begins to explain, "myself and Ron were invited by McGonagall as guests to represent the Ministry, and well, for other obvious reasons," he waves a dismissive hand, "however, with all this, I think it best we stay here. I'd much rather be there to support McGonagall, but I feel it's necessary that I'm accessible. So, instead, I'm sending you too to keep watch."

"Me?" Draco exclaims. Harry raises his eyebrows at the sudden outburst, "I hardly doubt they'd want me there, Potter. Can you imagine their faces?"

"I'm not sending you as guests, Malfoy," Harry reiterates, "I'm sending you as Ministry officials. You won't need to do anything drastic. I just want you to keep an eye on things. I'll send other officers too, as we might need to change protocol slightly to ease McGonagall's mind. Merlin knows she'll panic when she receives the owl I'm going to send."

"You can count on us, Harry." You say with utter confidence, "If anything happens, I'll inform you immediately. My owl is rather good at finding me in a tight situation."

"Thank you," he smiles kindly, Draco now completely silent, "now, you'll need to take the train to Hogwarts with the guests of the ceremony. I'd feel much better if you were on that train. I can't have eyes everywhere, so be my eyes. Got it?"

With a very sure nod, you rise from your seat, pulling an extremely quiet Draco up with you by the arm. You could tell he was bothered about returning to the school, even after all this time, but you had every bit of confidence in him. Even if he had none in himself.

[buds-and-baubles]

(agent grayson 2014-2016 issue #1)

i felt like this panel was a good way to show how reading this made me feel.

before i get to what i feel about how it treated midnighter, i just want to say.. i am so sorry to dick grayson and helena bertinelli for being in this comic series. i'm sorry for the spyral plot. i didn't do it but somebody gotta apologize to those two.

as for midnighter? a very long array of me going like 'he would not fucking say that' which i'll explain below. also i didn't miss the chin spike at all and where is my favorite freak's smile when he fights? they made him grumpy.

it feels like some of the dialogue gets close to understanding how he is, but just tacks on pieces he wouldn't actually say. i'll provide an example that ties into another point of why he wouldn't say a particular word for what he said;

original text bubble: "not bad, boy. i can read the electrical activity inside that pretty head. no superpowers. no meatware. but you found me anyway."

how i would've written what midnighter said: "i can read the electrical activity inside your head. no superpowers, no meatware, but you found me anyway. not bad, kid."

see to me, that sounds more like how midnighter talks. he typically prefaces things with statements.

example from the authority (1999-2002) issue #2 with one of his most famous text bubbles: "i know what moves you're preparing to make. i've fought our fight already, in my head, in a million different ways. i can hit you without you even seeing me."

as for calling his head pretty? no. he wouldn't do that. i'll be repeating this as i read this series but he would not flirt or sexualize dick grayson. he never has done that to others before the new 52 from everything i've read up to (i am finishing the worldstorm arc) because it is strictly against his character. he isn't the sort to do that to another man. you want an example of why i say that?

here's a line paraphrased (because fuck ennis and his homophobia) from midnighter (2006-2008) issue #5 that helps support it: "what it means is that i'm only interested in men. one man in particular."

he's talking about apollo. his husband, his sun god, his other half. he's the only man for him and he's an utter sap about it! everytime he sees him he gives him a compliment. he's so in love it makes me so happy to the point i get nauseous in a good way.

so to all the dick grayson fans who've read agent grayson and hate it for dick's sexualization, i just wanted to let y'all know that midnighter wouldn't be doing that to him. in fact, he'd let him know he doesn't deserve it or have to take it for the sake of the job. body talk by kermit_coded on ao3 (ily friend) approaches it exactly how i would've.

so all in all, he wouldn't flirt with dick or sexualize him in any way, and he'd say less of the goofy lines he said in this. not that he can't be goofy, but it's a more.. violent goofy i guess.

so why would midnighter be there following my idea not tying to the garden or anything? well, midnighter hunting down random shit like people put under surgery to become meta bio-weapons still feels up his alley. considering him and apollo did something similar back in their first ever comic appearance in stormwatch vol 2.

where's apollo then? well, he was following up on a lead about other possible meta bio-weapons on his own and then he and m were gonna go out to dinner with jenny q. to celebrate. sadly, the fates (dick grayson) had him get hit with a laser that shot him away team rocket style. now he's gonna miss dinner with his family.

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

In the garden. 

The first puzzle was really hard. Riley says that usually the answer is hidden somewhere within the episode, but Amanda wouldn’t let her replay it to check. Good thing I take notes. Sophie thought to herself. She looks through her notes. She looks around the room. There are several posters on the walls and memorabilia from all of Hameln’s different productions, with notes around them of different actors and their family members that went missing during or after production, among other odd notes about the show. Her mother told her once they realized Hameln was associated with the cult they started doing a deep dive on all their creative properties outside of Amanda. The results of this research are posted all around in sticky notes and long stapled printouts taped around the room. Like a controlled chaotic masterpiece. That’s mom for you. Sophie thought with a smile. Of course, most of the merch and stuff was from Amanda the Adventurer. Which… didn’t make things too easy. Sophie figured Amanda was going to hide it somewhere within the merch. Finally, she notices a specific poster. “Amanda the Adventurer! New Show! Starring Rebecca Colton and William Scott. Soon airing on Hameln Jr!” The poster showed Amanda and Wooly, sitting on Apples and Peaches respectively. Could this be it? Sophie recognized this poster. It was a collectors edition poster mimicking the show’s initial announcement ad. It was crazy popular and really hard for her mother to get a copy. Sophie feels the poster and realizes there’s a weird shape behind it. She gently peels back the tape on the poster revealing a safe and two tapes. One being an Amanda episode titled: In The Garden. The other being a bright cyan colored tape. Never understood why they chose to record all their evidence against Hameln on colored tapes. Sophie chose to watch the cyan tape first. It appeared rather unassuming, simply being a collection of Amanda the Adventurer commercials. There’s got to be more here… something I’m missing. Sophie thinks to herself. Oh well… I don’t have much free time. I better watch the next tape now. Sophie puts the tape in the machine. 

“Hi friends, I’m Amanda!” Amanda beams.

“And I’m Wooly!” 

“Gee it took you a while to find that tape huh? I hid it well, didn't I?” 

“Well… it only took me half an hour to find it.” 

“HUH?” 

“I had like 5 assignments due today… I had to do the dishes… and the laundry… then I watched this other tape first… so yeah… not too hard.” 

“Grrrrrrrrrr…” Amanda grumbled. 

“To-today we’re planting seeds to grow in our garden!” Wooly announces, changing the subject. 

“That’s right Wooly! Say, what kinds of plants do you like to grow?” Cacti Sophie responds. “You’re weird.” Amanda responds. The tape glitches.  “First we’re going to need to go to the store to buy some seeds, can you tell me where the store is?” Sophie clicks on the store. “Great! Let’s go-go-go-go-go-” the tape glitches again. Wow, these are so old. Sophie thinks to herself. 

“Wow there’s so many options, what are we going to grow?” Wooly asks. 

“Vegetables!” 

“Vegata..bles?” Wooly repeats. 

“Yep!” 

“In our new garden?” “That’s right!” Amanda beams. Wooly looks disappointed. “What is it?” 

“Nothing, I just thought we’d be growing flowers.” Wooly mumbles in an annoyed tone under his breath. 

“Flowers are boring! Vegetables are flowers you can eat!” 

“Wha- No! Flowers are pretty! They’re nice to look at and they smell nice!” 

“And they die wither and rot come fall. Good idea Wooly!” Amanda beams. 

“Wha- no!” Wooly sounds angrier at this then he should be. He stops himself and takes a deep breath. “How about this? I get flowers, you get the vegetables. Okay?” 

“Okay…” Amanda seems a little confused and uncomfortable. 

“So can you tell me where the---------” The tape glitches as Amanda and Wooly talk over each other, both glaring at each other with annoyance. 

“Sorry, you go first.” Wooly chuckles nervously. 

“Can you tell me where the vegetable seeds are?” Amanda smiles. Sophie clicks on the vegetables. “Great job!” 

“Can you tell me where the flower seeds are?” Wooly asks. Sophie clicks on them. “Thank you!”

“Now we need to pick out which vegetables we want! I want to make some BLTs at some point. So we definitely need some lettuce and tomatoes. Then maybe some cucumbers so we can have salads.”

“Honestly… that doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“Can you tell me where the seeds are?” Amanda asks. Sophie clicks on all three seeds with no problem. “Good job!” Amanda smiles.

“As for flowers I’m thinking daffodils, daisies, and… lavender…” Wooly closes his eyes wistfully. 

“Lavender?” 

“It smells so good. And I remember once hearing that it can help with anxiety and sleep!” Wooly explains, “um… not that I have any problems with anxiety or sleep or anything. The point is it’s known to be a very calming flower.” 

“I guess that’s interesting…” Amanda sighs. 

“Can you tell me where those are?” Wooly asks. Sophie clicks on the correct flowers. “Yay! These are going to look so pretty in the yard.” 

“Now let’s go home so we can plant these seeds!” Amanda tells us. The tape glitches back to the back yard. “I have all the gardening tools laid out here. What do we need first?” Sophie clicks on the shovel. “That’s… right…” Amanda says, then she shakes it off. “First we need to plant the seeds!”

“Be sure to look at the instructions on the back!” Wooly instructs.

“Wooly… there are no instructions on the back…” “Oh… there are in real life though…” Wooly sighs. 

 “First we dig a hole about this deep, then we put the seeds in…” “I’m starting to think we should’ve gotten plants instead.” Wooly thinks out loud. 

“Well the store only has seeds, Wooly.” 

“Ah… haha… Bummer.” 

“Anyway we planted the seeds. Now what do they need?” “Fertilizer!” Wooly announces. Water Sophie types. 

“Water!” Amanda beams. 

“What? No, they'll grow faster with fertilizer!” Wooly protests. 

“But the only place we can get that is the farm.” Amanda replies. 

“No! I don’t want to go baaaack there!” Wooly panics. Amanda looks… a little guilty. 

“Yeah I know. Which is why we don’t have fertilizer.” Amanda sighs. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“It’s fine Wooly.” “What do we use to water the seeds?” Sophie clicks on the watering can. “Riiiight.” Amanda says slowly. She starts to water the plants. 

“Don’t water them too much!” Wooly warns. 

“I know Wooly, I got this.” Amanda sighs. “There. Now we wait.” Amanda and Wooly stand there waiting for a bit. 

“Huh? Usually when we do this episode they grow immediately.”

“It’s probably because we don’t have fertilizer.” Amanda deduces. “Guess we’ll have to… get some.” Wooly looks terrified. “Wooly, the episode won’t end until the plants grow!” Amanda reminds him. 

“So? We can play some more right?” Wooly laughs nervously. Amanda bits her lip. 

“How about this, you stay home and keep an eye on the plants so the birds don’t eat the seeds.” Amanda suggests, “And I go to the farm.” 

“Okay…” Wooly sighs. The tape glitches to the farm. But both Amanda and Wooly are there. 

“Oh… I guess… the show won’t let you do that.” Amanda notes, she sees Wooly panicking, “It’s just the farm stand, not the petting zoo. You should be fine. We’ll be quick.” Amanda reussers him. But he says nothing. “Wooly, you can talk, you know.” Amanda says. 

“Oh, okay…” Wooly mumbles. 

“Can you tell the farmer what we need?” Amanda asks. The “farmer” is a motionless scarecrow, placed between the crops and the farm stand. Sophie types in fertilizer. “That’s right! Now let’s go home!”

“Meow!” 

“Aww… it’s a lonely kitt-” The tape glitches back to the backyard.

“I’m fine? I’m… fine. I’m fine!” Wooly gasps, fully relieved and almost a little excited. Amanda looks away. “Haha! Hahahaha! Take that stupid farm! Sheep says Baaa! No more! Haha!” 

“Glad you’re happy Wooly.” Amanda sighs tiredly, “But uh… the flower bed is all dug up.” 

“They’re what now?” Wooly stops in his tracks. Amanda checks the beds for seeds.  

“No no no no! The birds ate all our seeds! Now we’ll have to plant them all OVER again!” Amanda screams. “GRAH!” she stamps her foot. 

“Don’t worry Amanda, we still have more seeds, we can plant them again!” Wooly reussers her. 

“Yeah but aren’t you frustrated?” Amanda asks, “Aren’t you mad?” 

“I… I uh…” Wooly freezes up, “Let’s get these… seeds… pla-planted…”  the tape glitches and the seeds are all planted again. “Whew! That was a lot of work! Now let’s add fertilizer!” Wooly smiles. Sophie clicks and drags the fertilizer to each plant. 

“Now what do we use to water them?” Amanda questions. Sophie clicks on the watering can. “That’s right.” 

“Can I water them this time?” Wooly asks. 

“Sure Wooly!” Amanda says cheerfully. Wooly creates little moats around the holes and waters them. 

“Gotta make a moat to protect the castle from invaders!” Wooly laughs. The tape glitches and the plants are watered. “Now we wait.” This time, Amanda and Wooly watch as the plants slowly rise from the ground. “Yay! Now we can pick our plants!” Amanda beams and the tape ends. Now to find that next tape… Sophie thinks.

Authors note: Finally managed to finish this one. Have been doing a lot more editing on the recent episodes. Trying to figure out the future of this fic series lol.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Murder Bond

This is a crack idea that came to me while I was waiting on a train. 

As always look not for canon for it is not here. 

Jason comes back to life, does his assassin montage, and beats the absolute shit out of Robin before slitting Tim's throat.  Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are desperate to get Jason back into the family, inviting him over for meals (to which he starts coming, free food is free food).

Tim, when Jason was not present, goes “not to be a nudge, but are we ignoring that Jason beat the shit out of me and slit my throat?”

And Bruce, Dick, and Alfred go “Oh Jason didn’t really mean that” and “Jason has done nothing wrong ever” (in the background Tim is muttering “Jason has done so many murders it is actually impressive”)

On one of the occasions, where Tim was not present, Jason goes “Are we just going to ignore that I beat the shit out of Robin and slit his throat” and everyone rushes to assure him they know he didn’t really mean it.  Jason is visibly more than a little exasperated, the adults are not even making sure there are people between him and the Robin he beat the shit out of.

Jason and Tim talk at some point and Jason goes “Look, I’m not going to apologize, because I am not actually sorry right now. In my head I know that the shit I beat you up for wasn’t your responsibility and it was shitty to do, but I am still more than a little fucked up. If it helps I want to want to apologize, but I don’t do hollow sorry’s”

And Tim goes “No that's fair. I know that the Pit Rage means you were not entirely in control of your actions. I won’t be comfortable around you for a long time, because you did beat the shit out of me and slit my throat but I won’t hold a grudge either.”

They are not friends, not really comfortable around each other but they do bond over their combined irritation at the rest of the Bats, who have welcomed Jason back without even asking for a token apology to the teenager Jason beat up. 

With Damian it is a little different. Damian shows up, sees Tim as his primary rival and tries to kill him. Every time  it goes something like this:

Tim: Damian is trying to kill me

Alfred/Bruce/Dick: There is no way Damian would do that!!

Damian: I am trying to kill Tim Drake.

Alfred/Bruce/Dick: Awww, he is so cute. Who could think this is the face of a killer. 

Not one of the adults takes Damian seriously (Mostly they act like he is a small cat that thinks it is a large tiger). In fact the only person in the manor who is taking Damian with the seriousness he feels he deserves is Tim Drake, who treats the attacks on his life like, well, like attacks on his life.

Over time Tim and Damian also bond over the ridiculousness of not treating a deadly assassin like a deadly assassin, child or no. It gets to a point where Damian compliments Tim on his poison resistance  and Tim thanks Damian for stabbing him on the left side instead of the right (Damian: It was a reasonable request) Just hilarious bonding between Jason and Tim or between Damian and Tim that basically boil down to “The adults in our lives are morons who do not take threats to Tim seriously, I know because I am a threat to Tim they are not taking seriously”.

[nomatterwhatnomatterwhere]

Feels (Wistful) like Summer Rain

A.N: Soo... it took me longer than I thought to finish this one. I'm really sorry about this. I'm not entirely satisfied, especially with the ending. I don't know. Let me know what you think. In any case I hope you like it

T.W: emotional abuse ( kinda ?), social anxiety ( done bad but still)

Max's pov: Feels (Warm) like Sunlight

Kelly's pov: Feels (Harsh) like Winter Wind

Misunderstanding Max was not difficult, in fact he made it quite easy. And you had always read too much between the lines

That was why you hadn't insisted when Max had wanted to change the subject when you'd alluded to Kelly.

Part of you wanted to insist, to know if it was worth it after all, to take a step back. But another part didn't want to hurt Max any more than the rest of the world already had.

He hardly ever gave it away, but he didn't like being labelled the villain of the story. The villain of every story.

Who would?

Yet with the character he had on the track, with his racing manner, he was perfect for the role.

You remembered perfectly his eyes asking you to confirm what the tabloids reported, whether it was true that he was unfair and violent.

You remembered well how easy it was to see his poker face collapse at the slightest hint, and how no one seemed to notice.

Or maybe they pretended not to notice.

Because people like to see what they want to see, what suits them, and it didn't matter if they ruined other people's lives with their way of doing things.

Because people had seen Max's raw talent and had decided that that sixteen-year-old boy was the ideal villain in a world of competitiveness where only the best can triumph.

That's exactly why you meant every word you said, that you were truly sorry, because you had seen how happy Kelly had made him, and you really hoped the two of them had parted better than the gossip pages let on, and it hurt that you couldn't be more of a comfort to him at that moment.

But you didn't belong there.

Not any more. For a long time.

Max had caught your eye long before you realised it.

Your situation at the time wasn't the best, but that didn't mean you were easily distracted, quite the contrary.

It had been rather strange how between acting as if nothing was changing at school, and dealing with foster care at home, it had been Max who had caught your attention.

Max didn't attend classes much, and no one really knew why, plus his home situation wasn't much happier than yours.

Only yours had been handled much better. His were rumours that were somehow confirmed.

Maybe he had attracted you because you thought you were similar, even though you knew how different you really were.

Those few times you saw Max at school, he never tried to hang out with the others; no matter how much his gaze lingered on the groups of kids at recess, he never got up to go to them, and they always kept their distance from him, but Max never seemed to mind so much.

You, on the other hand, always had anxiety about being alone, you didn't want to stay with your thoughts. But you also got anxious when you were with your friends, because you were never really honest with them, because you didn't want to argue with anyone, because you never took sides for fear they would get angry with you and leave you alone.

Somehow neither of you were really comfortable with the others.

You found out why Max was so absent because you asked the Vermeulen, your foster parents.

It had taken you a while to open up to them, not because they were mean or you didn't like them, they were just different from what you were used to, and you didn't want to be a burden of any kind to them, who had welcomed you with open arms first into their home and then into their family

It had not been easy for them either, the therapist who had dealt with you had said that your adapting so much to what others wanted was the result of a trauma that you had not yet realised you had suffered.

And how could you, what the psychologist called ‘trauma’ had been normal for you until child welfare workers had turned up on your doorstep asking you to pack your bags.

In fact, you had difficulty understanding why they had taken you away from your parents: they were not violent, had never beaten you and they had never made you lack anything. Of course they often shouted at each other, about things you didn't understand, but wasn't that something all couples did? They demanded that you behave well in every situation, that you never talk back, and that you do well at school, but there was nothing strange in expecting you to be a polite child. They weren't affectionate parents, but that didn't make them monsters, most people don't like physical contact and your parents were that kind of person.

The Vermeulens had given you an mp3 so you could listen to the music you wanted when you were studying without feeling guilty about the volume. When you travelled by car Vincent, Mr Vermeulen, always took the longer and more scenic drives because you liked to watch the scenery change, and you could listen to a few more songs because that mp3 had become your best friend. They had taken you to see The Nutcracker at the theatre because it was your favourite CD in Mrs Vermeulen's vast collection, Julie, you had listened to it so much that she had bought a copy just for you.

For Christmas they had taken you to a Christmas fair because you had never been to one, with Julie putting your scarf over your nose every three times so you wouldn't look too much like Rudolph and Vincent holding you on his shoulders when your feet started to hurt.

The best thing, though, was seeing the two of them at the candy stand arguing over which was better between liquorice and gummy bears, only to see you choose milk candy. From then on there were always packets of those sweets around the house

It was this blatant distinction between your parents‘ and the Vermeulens’ way of doing things that made it difficult for you to open up to them: You loved your parents, but Julie and Vincent made you feel not only valued but also part of something, and that made you feel ungrateful and unappreciative.

That was a thought you didn't feel ready to share yet though, so you diverted to the other thought that wandered through your head with no intention of paying rent

"He participates in a lot of races, that kid is a karting prodigy."

Max wasn't family, but Vincent couldn't deny that he had a keen eye for the little devil that haunted his go kart track, perhaps because you could see from afar that little Verstappen had talent to spare, or perhaps because a bit like you, he looked to him like a child older than his age.

Maybe that was why he didn't object when Julie, after a doubtful look from you, suggested you spend some time at the go-kart track and see for yourself how good your classmate was

The go-kart track was your second - third ? - home. You liked how every time you went there you felt relieved of a burden, you felt free of the tension of having to be attentive to everything around you, that was probably why you had never noticed Max before.

But once you did, it was hard not to notice him: he was one with the kart, he looked like he was made for racing on the track.

It was also hard not to notice his father: Jos Verstappen was someone who made you feel strange, somehow Jos reminded you of your parents even if you didn't quite understand how that was possible.

Your parents would never have left you somewhere because you had not achieved the desired results in a competition. Jos always seemed to be dissatisfied with what Max did, and Max seemed sad, even though it was obvious that he loved racing on the track

You had approached him after Jos had left him stranded for the umpteenth time. You knew he'd come to pick him up. If he hadn't, his mother would have done it. But that time he seemed the most broken you had ever seen him.

You weren't sure what it was, but since that day something had clicked between you: it was the reading between the lines, the catching of a different look from the usual, the slight change in tone, the getting to know each other so intimately that made your relationship with Max so immensely different from any other.

It was something that grew with you over time, something uniquely yours but that everyone around you perceived, even without really understanding it.

That was why you thought you had a special place in his life: apart from his family, you were the person he spent most time with on and off the track.

You always knew what was going on in his head without him uttering a word, not that Max was one who didn't speak.

Max could talk a lot when he wanted to, and when he talked about something he liked - racing, engines, winning - he had a light in his eyes that made it impossible not to be spellbound listening to him.

To say that Max wasn't popular would be a lie, you remembered with deep affection his confused look when he found a stack of Valentine's Day dedications on the counter, his gaze seeking confirmation in yours, as if to ask if what was happening was normal, and his not knowing quite how to act about it.

It was something Victoria often teased him about, not knowing how to read those social interactions

"Probably all the space in his head is taken up with strategies for competitions."

You really thought you had a chance, you saw it: you saw how Max sought your gaze before others, how he somehow searched for your approval, your support. How he was looking for you.

At least until Kelly had arrived and reality had hit you like a bucket of ice water as the ground beneath your feet crumbled.

You wanted so badly for him to love you back that you had seen things that had never been there, because obviously Max had never had a thing for you.

Because otherwise you wouldn't have seen that look in his eyes, as if Kelly had attached the moon to the sky.

You wouldn't have seen that smile so joyful when he talked to her, when you had waited years to see him smile like that.

You wouldn't have felt like you were in the way.

It sucked to feel that way. Rejected. It hurt so much that even the thought of feeling that way again led you to avoid seeing his races, limiting yourself to messages of good luck or congratulations, but even those were short-lived

"I think I've lived Max's life enough" was what you told the Vermeulen after days of silence "Racing is his passion. Not mine. I think it's time to try something new" you had finished with a small smile, resigned, but at least not forced.

But that didn't mean they didn't stay awake with you when you cried at night, in case you needed something.

You wouldn't have needed anything.

But they kept leaving you over the kitchen counter a cup of hot chocolate, bitter, because you had long since given up the absurd amount of sugar that was milk candy.

They had both been open and understanding when with downcast eyes you had asked, whispered, if it was all right for you to walk away from that world

"You're your own person, and it's just right you try different things and what works better for you. Our world doesn't have to be your world. And that won't change what we feel about you"

You realised you were crying when Julie wiped the tears from your face. She had just painted her nails.

Relationships with the Verstappens went on without too much trouble, they had only diminished, sleepovers and outings with Victoria were still a must have and Sophie had never made a secret of how much she enjoyed your company.

Only once had you been asked if you would like to see one of Max's races live again.

Neither of them had insisted when you had declined due to an important commitment that day, but neither of them had missed how tense you were at the question.

It was true though, even if you had wanted to go, you couldn't because you really had an important commitment.

Since your time away from the world of racing you had tried different things, but radio was the one you felt most at home in: whether you were put on the assistant director's desk or the leaderboard or whatever, you felt you were in your own world.

When you had been offered to replace one of the announcers you had accepted, even if it meant not sleeping until the next morning. It was worth it, in the end, because they had confirmed you for that nightly column which, although niche, had seen a significant increase in ratings since you had been hosting it. The audience liked your approach, they interacted more, even at that ungodly hour, and even for the other hosts it was clear that that was your place.

The YouTube channel came later, even though it wasn't entirely your idea: at first it was stories or live feeds on Instagram, but your audience seemed to like it and they suggested you expand it, so you did.

There were people who didn't like you, who thought you were fake and posh, and who enjoyed sending you unkind comments. But it didn't matter any more.

There were people who liked you, even without ever having seen you. People who without knowing you thanked you because you had said something that made their day better, or because they felt understood by someone.

(That had been another reason for your broadening the topics of discussion on your channel).

Deciding to do a live broadcast from the kart track had been something you had been thinking about for a while. Even though you had drifted away from the world of racing, it had always been a part of you, and it would come back to greet you cyclically when you got notifications of start times, qualifying results or penalty investigations.

You hadn't managed to completely detach yourself from what had been your world for most of your life, those who knew you simply didn't know this side of you.

You were embarrassed to say that the reason you no longer followed the sport so assiduously was because it reminded you of how your first crush had rejected you without realising it, and you were even more embarrassed to think that that little crush on Max Verstappen had never really got over.

But the kartdrome was not just the more or less painful memories of Max. It was also the hiding between the tyres to study, the milk sweets you offered to everyone who came in, the people who switched from karts to formula but always went back to their roots, so you decided to give it a try.

You didn't know how you would react if it went wrong, but fortunately for you your interest in the sport seemed to be appreciated, so much so that you found yourself walking around a paddock again after not setting foot there for years.

Returning to breathe the air of racing was strange: it wasn't something new, but it was different from what you remembered.

It was strange to move around and meet people who wanted to take a photo with you, hug you or just say hello, you didn't think you had brought much to what was the world of car racing, yet everywhere you turned there were people who seemed to think otherwise.

It was even stranger to meet familiar faces long before they became famous. You'd known them from Max's races, you'd even stopped to talk to some on occasion, but you hadn't kept in touch.

"Look who's finally back"

It had taken you a while to realise that Esteban was talking to you: you couldn't remember ever having spoken a word to him when you went to watch the races. He must have noticed, as he snorted a laugh before showing you a photo in which oh, yeah, that was definitely you wearing a sweatshirt kindly donated by Max standing next to you

The other kid in the photo must have been Esteban but in your eyes he was so different that you had to alternate your gaze between him and the photo before you really realised.

"You were always nice to everyone. It was a shame not to see you around any more."

He had been the first to say it, but after meeting other drivers the general thought seemed the same: you were someone who, despite everything, stuck out.

Not once had the thought of how you would behave if you met Max crossed your mind.

That's why you didn't know how to react when you met him.

Although perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was he who had met you.

It wasn't that you hadn't recognised him, you were realising that the man in front of you, with the two glasses in his hand, wasn't one of the many people there.

It was Max Verstappen.

The same Max Verstappen who didn't know how to deal with others, who watched from afar as the other children played, not knowing which way to approach them.

You didn't know what it was, whether an involuntary reflex or something else, but you broke that embarrassed silence.

Yours was not a question to be answered with ‘less than you think’, and you were ready to ask for an argument if he did not ask another question

"Why didn't you come to the Redbull pit?"

That wasn't a question to ask someone you hadn't seen in a long time, especially not in that tone that almost seemed to accuse you, when he had no right to do so

"Sorry what-"

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to the races? I could've-"

"I didn't have to tell you tho" maybe you had been too blunt in answering him, but it was true. You didn't have to give any information, plus it would have been weird to tell Max with whom you had been radio silent for years "We hadn't talked in ages, I couldn't just text you. It didn't feel right, you know?"

You had seen his gaze change and could feel the wheels turning in his head, but you too had started to ask yourself some questions

"Didn't think you knew I was there … Was it Vic who told you?"

"Heard you on the radio"

Oh. You didn't think Max was a radio guy, honestly. Not least because even though they'd changed them, your column times still remained infamous.

There was another silence that led to your apology for his break-up with Kelly, a subject Max didn't seem to want to talk about at all, given the fleeting change of expression.

He was pensive. And sad. Yet more proof of how important Kelly was to him.

Somewhat resentfully you wondered if he had ever made such an expression thinking about you, although you found it difficult that between all his commitments Max found time to think about you. He hadn't thought about you since he started dating Kelly, why would he now

"I can get you a pass, if you plan to watch the race"

You had laughed.

What else were you supposed to do in a situation that oscillated between the ridiculous and the comical

"If I plan to watch the race? I don't think you will ever find someone who's not here for the race. Well, they sure have other things to do, but you know what I mean"

It was common knowledge that the Montecarlo race was the VIP hangout, and you didn't think you had to be the one to explain it to Max

"I appreciate the thought, but I already got my pass, but thank you"

you backed away from the railing you had been leaning against, convinced that the conversation would end there, now that you had nothing to go on talking about, but what he asked next left you mildly surprised

"Even for Quali?"

He "You… “ remembered "have my attention"

It wasn't common knowledge, but you often preferred qualifying to racing: there was something about pre-race performances that gave you goosebumps, an adrenaline rush you could never quite describe. Max knew it. He'd listened to you for hours as you explained how the qualifying air was different, and he often agreed with you, even if he would just put his head down and let you talk.

Time may have passed, but he still had that same expression that you had never been able to put a name to.

You had smiled when you recognised Raymond's voice greeting you: he had been Verstappen's manager for as long as you could remember, but it was he who had steered you into the world of radio. You owed him a lot -

(Did that make you an honorary nepo- baby of some kind?).

After asking him to pass on your apologies to Ray you were drawn into another conversation, and then another and another, that you almost didn't notice how Max's presence followed you around like a shadow, though not physically, and how that seemed to make the others uncomfortable.

Almost.

It had been like stepping back in time for an evening: sensing his gaze from a distance, knowing exactly what he was thinking with just a glance, having conversations that lasted a blink of an eye, a slight smile or a shake of the head

And you were pretty sure the next day you would have regretted not clarifying the situation right away.

It had come back to you why you thought you had a chance with him, why you had seen things that had never been there, why you had fallen in love with him

Misunderstanding Max wasn't difficult, in fact, he made it quite easy.

And you had always read too much between the lines

[actuallysaiyan]

|Come Down And Waste Away With Me| Chapter One: I Am Here.

warnings: angst, mentions of death, set during the final war arc, mentions of alcohol, very heavy and dark themes, mentions of wounds, driving under the influence, self-deprecation, hospital stay, Reader has a quirk and a hero name pairings: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Disgraced Hero!Reader summary: the last time you saw Valorie was when the car had flipped and you were seeing her lose her life. while in the hospital during the end of the final war, you begin to lose hope that you're even cut out to be a good person. someone hears your cries for help, and he shows you a light.

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist: @cherryblossombankai

masterlist

In the year 20xx…

Here we are at the scene of the crime. Last night was the tragic car accident that took the life of Spectral Valor, also known as Valorie Teagan, and left about half a dozen others injured. What was speculated as foul play at first ended up being corrected as driving under the influence. Also in the vehicle with Spectral Valor was the electrokinetic hero known as Haywire. More details at six…

“You could have died!” A voice yells at you through your drunken stupor.

Here you rest in your hospital bed. Wires and tubes poking and prodding and coming from your mangled body. You fractured your tibia causing you the most pain, followed by the few cracked ribs. A concussion, a few chipped teeth, a fractured tibia, three cracked ribs…

But really none of them hurt more than losing your best friend. Valorie was your glue. She was the angel that helped you shine. Even while you were becoming a hero, she was always right there with you. It hurt you to think you’d never get to see that smile again. You’d never hear her laughter again. You tried to not cry, but it was so fucking hard.

“Did you hear me, Haywire?! You could have died! I can’t deal with this shit anymore.”

It’s the voice of your manager. Why would a hero need a manager? You don’t know, but you had a feeling it had to do with all the club life you were leading. The drinking, the drugs, the week long benders you’d go on…it’s not good for a hero of your stature. Yet you were so good at hiding it. 

“Ken,” you try to say despite your throat having a lump in it. “Ken, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, kid. I promised your parents I’d take care of you, but I can’t.”

Oh yeah…Kento had been a family friend. When you lost your parents, he promised to take good care of you. You lost your parents at a young age. They had died doing what they love, saving the world.

“I promise,” you swallow hard. “I promise, I’ll do better.”

Kento sits on the edge of the bed. He runs his fingers through his sandy blond hair. He then sheds a few of his own tears, wiping them away and facing you. He presses his hand carefully on the cast that is on your left leg.

“The agency is dropping you. Or at least, that’s the gist of what I understood.”

You looked away ashamed. “Is anyone still in that building? Isn’t there a war going on?”

Kento laughs sarcastically. He explains to you that even with the war happening, and with the crumbling of society, the agency you still worked for had decided to shut its doors for the time being. Instead of healing and getting to go back to it after, you were being pushed out.

“Sorry kid, but I can’t fix this one.”

That had been three weeks ago. You got your official letter about two days after that conversation. You didn’t get many visitors in the hospital. Especially not with all the heroes coming back from the war. All For One had been defeated. Even that young kid, Shigaraki, had been defeated. Somehow you were clinging to those details as a means to cope with Valorie’s death.

Then you got your hands on a smartphone. You were able to keep up with the battle a lot better this way. Things had seemed so dire for so long. The way things could have ended made you nervous. It wracked you with guilt. You weren’t out there helping. You were just a waste of space. All you were was good for nothing. You couldn’t even contribute to the fight to save humanity and heroes alike.

Rotting in a hospital room after everything that was going on, you begin to wonder if maybe you should have died in that stupid car crash as well. You had been the one to procure the alcohol that night. You were the one who stupidly coaxed Valorie into driving back home. Things had been so bleak for heroes. Nobody trusted you. This only made you feel worse, turning to drugs and alcohol even harder to cope with this shit.

You remember the way you felt when you finally opened your eyes. Just once…just once before passing out again. Seeing her lifeless body next to you. The car had flipped multiple times. Nothing hurt at the time because of the shock, but seeing her…oh Valorie had been so beautiful.

Her life was snuffed out before it even truly began. You had wanted so desperately to start your own agency with her. That had been the plan. You two would have gone on to do such amazing things. And here you had been, looking at the lifeless body of your truest friend.

In the history of assholes, you wondered if maybe you were going to take the top spot. Nothing could make you feel any better. You hated yourself for being so weak to addiction. So weak to addiction that you couldn’t even properly contribute to the world. People were out there risking their lives to keep everyone safe, and you were partying.

And now, you were in the hospital, taking up space.

And even worse, was that you were in the same hospital as Him.

All Might.

The man, the legend, the strongest…

Call him whatever you want, but he also ended up in the same hospital as you. While you were out partying in the wreckage of Japan and getting in the fatal car accident that killed your friend, he and all the other pro heroes had been fighting the good fight. The dread and the pain you felt deep inside of you kept you from wanting anyone but your manager, Kento, to come visit.

Still, you had been curious about the extent of All Might’s injuries. After the battle in Kamino Ward, you had found out about his secret along with everyone else in the world. You still tried to cling to having him as your idol.  You tried your best to see the good in him, just like everyone else had accepted. But soon when people stopped seeing the heroes as the good guys, they started to see that their Symbol Of Peace wasn’t going to be the one to save them. Everyone else basically dropped him like yesterday’s news, but you always looked up to the man.

That’s what kept you and Valorie close. A transfer student from America, Valorie had been very interested in meeting All Might. She was a big fan of his, memorizing all the battles he had in America. The shine in her eyes is what made you become even more fanatical of the man.

She was a shining force and you lost her. You lost the one person in this world that knew you more than anyone else. She was always the one to lift you up when you truly needed it. She was the one to show you the logical way of things.

But times were tough. People started to distrust the heroes. They didn’t want heroes to come help. Even prior to that, you and Valorie had enjoyed the fame and fortune that came with being pro heroes. You had indulged in all sorts of things from time to time, but you never thought you’d get to the point you were now.

You were clinging to anything in a way of coping with this. With the fighting going on outside, you hadn’t been sure if Valorie even got a proper funeral. It didn’t matter, you thought to yourself, because you weren’t going to be able to go. You were confined to this hospital bed for some time.

And with that came the change of rooms…

It all happened so fast. One day you were in a room by yourself, the next day you were being wheeled into another room. The curtains had been drawn around the other occupant in this room. As nosy as you were, you couldn’t quite just get out of bed and find out who it was. Still, you could tell that whoever it was, they were in worse shape than you were.

Lots of rooms were going to be pretty full now. The beds would be needed for those who actually put their lives on the line. Unlike you, the waste of space. You cried often, trying to hide it from your roommate. You tried to desperately keep your sobs low. Thankfully, whoever was in this room with you was often sleeping.

You longed to be able to walk again. The doctors said it would be a while before you were up and doing that. But you hadn’t lost the use of your leg. You’d be going through lots of extended physical therapy to go along with the rehabilitation and emotional therapy you’d be going through as well.

Crying had been the soothing balm at first, but the less Kento came to visit you, the lonelier you got. You heard all kinds of things from the hallways. The news that the doctors would give you had just made you feel even worse. And the one person who came to visit you that wasn’t your manager had been Valorie’s mother. She was very sympathetic with you, which truly surprised you.

Your heart felt so heavy with so much. You felt like you could burst from the amount of emotions that run through you every second. You were clinging to the sweater her mom brought you and you sniffed her scent every chance you could.

Nothing could bring her back and you knew this.

Nothing could bring back the dead.

The world could be at peace, and there was still so much hurt. So much pain would linger. The world could be rebuilt, but the pain would remain like a stain on everyone’s heart. You wondered how you and everyone else would get through this.

You wished you could take it all back…

The last moments with her keep replaying in your mind and you know you’ll never get to see that beautiful smile again. No, she won’t be there to comfort you ever again when you need her.

One night, things seemed very quiet. You were just trying to get some rest despite the fact that your body was aching. You had spent the good part of an hour just scrolling through your phone that somehow hadn’t been damaged in the car crash. The way things were going, it seemed like the world and Japan was trying to band together to get over this.

Still, you couldn’t help but go look at pictures of her. It was breaking your heart, but you needed to see her smile. The same smile that always pushed you to do your best. Even when you felt scared as a new and upcoming hero, she was there to guide you through it all even though she was just as scared as you.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you tried so hard to quiet your sobs. It had been a few days now that you were in the new room and you were sure that whoever your new roommate was would probably grow tired of your constant crying. Doesn’t matter what’s going on in the world, whoever was trying to heal next to your bed would find you annoying.

In reality, the person in the bed next to yours was sleeping most of the time. Tonight was the first time he heard your cries. It pained his heart more than he’d like to admit. He had been in so much pain, but so happy to know the outcome of the battle. He had worked so hard to make sure things would go the way he desperately hoped for.

And now with hearing you cry, his heart clenched in his chest. These were the tears of a lost someone. When he had been first admitted to the hospital, they had told him that he’d be in the same room as you. He barely knew you, but he had heard of the electrokinetic hero Haywire. He knew what had happened, and he did not think any less of you.

Finally, the curtain is pulled back from the bed and you gasp when you see the older man in his bed. You try to wipe away your tears, but it’s obvious you’ve been crying. He looks at you and gives you his best smile, even while in a sorry state himself.

“Don’t cry,” he says. “I am here.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

finally, it's out! if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just comment or inbox or message me!

[mimicrygrievous]

Found Family Fanfic Idea Thing

I got into the utmv and epic the musical around the exact same time so every time I listen to a song from epic the musical I have to turn it into a utmv animatic of some sort in my head and “I’m Not Sorry For Loving You” has turned into Dream being stuck on the island because the lines “I’ve spent my whole life here, was cast away when I was young, alone for a hundred years, I had no friends but the sky and sun” specifically just make me think dreamtale twins and now I’ve got a found family fanfic idea floating around in my head where Nightmare winds up on the island somehow and they bond and they start to think of each other as brothers but Nightmare also has his preexisting boys/brothers/gang to get back to and so Nightmare spends the entire time on the island bonding with Dream and thinking about his boys and telling Dream stories about his boys and saying shit like “they’ll love you” “you’re their brother now too, they just don’t know it yet” but eventually Nightmare has to fucking get back to them, and once he figures out how to leave, they spend one “last” really fucking sad moment on the beach where Dream is bawling his sockets out and Nightmare is swearing up and fucking down like “I’ll figure this out, I’ll get my boys, we’ll come up with a foolproof plan, and then we’ll bust you the fuck out” and Dream knows he means it, but doesn’t think it’ll ever work, so he’s sobbing and trying to beg Nightmare to stay even though he knows it won’t work and he’d feel terrible taking the gang’s brother from them awayway and blah blah blah sad sad sad brothers brothers brothers Nightmare fucking leaves and Dream is in emotional agony

Fast forward however fucking long it takes for Nightmare to become organized and figure out whatever the fucks going on with the myths and telling his boys about their new brother Dream, Dream has gotten used to being all a-fucking-lone again and is numb and without hope and something fucking crash lands on his island????? The beach has exploded????? Huh????? And so he goes and checks it out just to be tackled to ground by skeletons he doesn’t know (well, he sorta knows them, from Nightmare’s stories and all) and he’s just having a happy “OMG MORE BROTHERS” breakdown while Nightmare fucking ingrains the sight into his memory and most definitely is not crying or whatever the fuck

[becasbelt]

a little bit of hurt/comfort before we jump into act 3

also on ao3

* * *

It was after everything.

After Caitlyn and Vi stumbled their way back topside, Vi’s head pounding and Caitlyn’s leg wound reopened. After Caitlyn insisted on going to the destroyed council chambers before seeking help for herself. After they’d found the battered corpse of Cassandra Kiramman, already retrieved from the rubble and covered in white sheets. After Caitlyn’s anguished cry, her knees giving out, shaking in Vi’s arms as her wide eyes stared unblinkingly at the still face of her mother’s body. After patch-ups and funeral preparations and weak attempts at recuperating.

At the end of everything, it was this:

Caitlyn and Vi, lying on Caitlyn’s bed in the first inklings of dawn, the morning of the funeral. Vi’s arms wrapped tightly around Caitlyn’s body, Caitlyn’s head heavy on her shoulder. They’re still, have been still for a long time now, but Vi knows Caitlyn isn’t asleep by the way her hands remain tightly twisted in the fabric of her shirt.

A glance down reveals exactly what Vi expected to see: Caitlyn’s eyes, red and wide open, staring numbly out the window.

Caitlyn hadn’t slept a wink last night. Vi hadn’t faired much better, snapping herself awake every time she felt herself doze off, unwilling to leave Caitlyn alone for even a second.

They hadn’t been doing a lot of that the past few days. Sleeping. Or leaving each other alone.

 The first meager sunbeam manages to break through the haze of clouds outside, dimly flickering against the foot of the bed. Vi moves for the first time in hours; a twitch of her fingers against Caitlyn’s back, brushing gently against shoulder blades.

Caitlyn’s breathing changes, deepens ever so slightly, and Vi knows she’s registered the touch.

“When do you have to get up?” Vi asks, voice scratchy and quiet. The question is too loud for the silence of the bedroom, but Caitlyn doesn’t flinch like she’d feared she would.

“Soon,” Caitlyn answers, her own voice hoarse. Vi continues with her fingers’ movements, tracing down her spine and back up; anywhere she can reach without moving her arm. “The staff will start setting up in an hour, and then people will arrive, and then…”

She doesn’t need to go on, Vi knows what comes next, they’ve gone over it, though she hadn’t been involved in the planning at all: then the service will start, and Caitlyn will have to say goodbye to her mother whether she’s ready to or not.

What bittersweet agony it must be, to get one last proper goodbye with your family in the company of strangers. To get a last goodbye at all.

Vi keeps moving her fingers. Up to Caitlyn’s arm now, skimming the skin beneath her short sleeve. Caitlyn’s fist tenses in its hold on Vi’s shirt briefly before relaxing, releasing the fabric and splaying her fingers against Vi’s stomach, as flat as they can be.

There are words caught in Vi’s throat. Words she’s said, words she hasn’t. What can I do, how can I help, are you sure you’re up for this?

I’m sorry. About your mother. For stopping you.

She swallows them down, shifts on the bed until Caitlyn is pulled even closer to her, legs tangling and face tucked into the crook of her neck, breaths puffing softly against her skin. Vi reaches up to cover the hand on her stomach, pulls it to her chest, and feels relieved at the small squeeze Caitlyn gives her fingers.

Vi doesn’t know how to navigate this. This new, grief-stricken Caitlyn. Has never known how to deal with her own grief, frankly. She can’t tell if she’s helping or hurting, but Caitlyn hasn’t told her to go away yet, so she figures she must be doing some amount of good.

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering against Vi’s skin as her eyes finally shut for a moment. “I’ll need to check on my father first,” she murmurs. “Make sure he’s awake. Presentable.” She pauses. “Sober enough.”

The ghost of Tobias Kiramman has haunted the Kiramman manor since the explosion, drifting in and out of rooms aimlessly, bottle held loosely in pale hands. Letting his daughter handle every funeral detail, every fallout felt from the loss of the head of House Kiramman.

Vi privately thinks he’s selfish. Drowning in his own despair when he still has so much to care for.

Vi licks her lips. “Do you need me for anything?”

She can’t help but ask it. Feels like she should be helpful – needs to be helpful in some way.

But Caitlyn just exhales slowly. “Just this,” she says. Her fingers curl into Vi’s shirt again, the collar this time, fingertips brushing skin. “This is enough. For right now.”

They stay that way for another few minutes, Vi moving her hand along Caitlyn’s lower back, daring to slip beneath the hem of her shirt to trace her skin. Rain starts falling outside, the lone sunbeam consumed by dark clouds.

Eventually the sounds of workers arriving and moving around outside stir them again. Caitlyn sighs and stretches, toes curling against Vi’s legs. Then she pulls back enough to finally look at Vi’s face. She releases Vi’s shirt to brush her bangs out of her eyes, cups Vi’s cheek softly.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

She looks so sad, so broken. Vi’s chest hurts looking at her.

“Anytime,” Vi whispers back, means it.

She has no fucking clue how to put this girl back together. But she wants to, needs to. Selfishly, she needs to keep her intact to keep herself from falling apart.

She leans forward and presses her lips to Caitlyn’s forehead, right at her hairline, exhaling slowly through her nose. Caitlyn releases her own shaky breath and curls her hand around the back of Vi’s neck, holding her there before moving back again.

Caitlyn’s eyes look less distant now as they focus on Vi’s lips, and Vi feels a tiny flicker of hope light in her chest. She presses her thumb gently to the corner of Vi’s mouth, brushes lightly against her bottom lip.

Then Caitlyn blinks and the moment is gone, her hand moving back to safe territory on Vi’s chest.

“I need to get up,” she murmurs. “And if I don’t do it now I fear I never will.”

Then don’t, Vi wants to say, but that wouldn’t be fair in the slightest, so she just nods and loosens her arms, allowing Caitlyn to sit up, to push her hair back from her face, to start putting up a strong front. But Vi can’t stop herself from following her up and pressing one last kiss against Caitlyn’s temple.

“Good luck,” she says, because it’s going to be fine feels like a lie and you’ll get through this feels callous.

Caitlyn leans into the kiss for just a second, the smallest smile ghosting on her lips in gratitude, then gets up with a lingering touch to Vi’s leg.

Vi stays in bed and watches her duck into the bathroom to wash her face, pull her hair into a ponytail, put on a robe. Then she’s slipping out of the bedroom, already preparing herself with what she needs to get through this day.

She doesn’t look back, and Vi watches her go.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Guided Horse Riding (Mycroft Holmes X Fem!Reader)

Characters: Mycroft Holmes

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Mention of murder, stabbings, horses

Request: hello dear can i get mycroft/fem reader? reader has a horse and force mycroft into him we want to see a scared the british government💖 [name is mira and a horse with white yellow mane]

Notes: (Uh.... happy early holidays, I'm not dead? Sorry for being gone for so long I genuinely feel so awful for being gone for so long plz forgive me ok thanks bye)

Mycroft had wondered what had led him to the very situation he was in right at this very moment, and he had mentally been piecing it together in his head, till he reached the first domino that started this all. 

The first domino- no surprises here- was Sherlock, who had realised that there had been a pattern in some recent stabbings, with them all happening in public, packed places, and the more people, the more victims- the first was on the underground, the second was at the opening of an art gallery, and then a charity marathon. Sherlock had deduced that the next attack would almost certainly be at the parade happening, and he slapped together a rough description for what to look out for, and dragged Mycroft along to get him access to more secure areas- which included the stables that held the horses meant to be taking part in the parade, and that had been where he had met you. 

You had been there checking in on your horse- Mira, to make sure she was comfortable, calm and ready for such an event, though you knew it was more like you with the nerves than her, this being the first time either of you had took part in an event like this. So when you had the Holmes brother approach you, asking who you were and what you were doing back here, before asking if you’d seen anyone around you didn’t recognise, you were understandably alarmed. One was dressed mostly like any other bystander (who therefor shouldn’t be back there) and the other was dressed formally and seemed to be softening and adding politeness and context that the other, more brash man was missing. You quickly realised that Sherlock was acting mostly that way because he was in a rush, and that something bad was going to happen if he didn’t get answers in time, and luckily, you had remembered a previous interaction with a man just earlier in the day- one that had rubbed you the wrong way with how he spoke, and you pointed them in his direction. Sherlock immediately sped walked away, while Mycoft took the time to shake your hand, thank you for your cooperation, and wish you luck in the parade. 

The parade itself went off without a hitch- at least from your perspective it did. Mira was an angel, behaved and also let children pet her and families take pictures with her. The only thing you noticed that was a little off, was that there was a lot more police there than you predicted, and they all seemed bunched up in one area, but you just assumed it was a safety precaution, and since nothing bad happened, you presumed it was all good. You didn’t find out exactly what had happened until you were packing up for the day, walking your horse over to her trailer, and Mycroft spotted you, and came over to speak to you. 

That was the second domino. After giving you the rundown, explaining how you had basically stopped a mass stabbing thanks to you pointing the man out earlier the day, and after explaining who exactly Sherlock was, and who he was, you got to ask your own question, which began a conversation that resulted in you sharing your phone numbers to pick it up over coffee- the third domino.

Countless other dominos had been set up and knocked down since then- dates, kisses, admissions of love, and it all- somehow- led Mycroft to where he was now, watching you set Mira up for him, so he could ride her for the first time as you reassured him she was a nice, gentle horse, which he knew, but that didn’t help his nerves.  

“You ready?” You ask, patting the neck of the horse after setting up the stool beside her, turning to look at Mycroft

“Not really.” Mycroft responded, sounding far from confident, but despite that, he still took your hand and let you guide him onto the stool, and position his foot into the stirrup.

“Alright, hold the reins, and swing your leg over, I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” You explained to him, and after a moment of hesitation, Mycroft took a deep breath, and did as you ordered, and you kept your promise and helped him onto the saddle. Mira kept perfectly still as Mycroft got settled, and sat stiffly. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You commented, chuckling as Mycroft only managed a small, unconvinced noise of agreement. 

“Does this mean I can get off now?” Mycroft asked, glancing at you at the corner of his eye.

“Well you can… do you want to try and get off, or get comfortable first?” You asked. Mycroft, upon realising that he’d have to get off the horse, which meant him mostly going backwards, and guessing his own footwork of a horse with little help that you could provide, Mycroft froze for a moment, before sighing. 

“Fine. I’ll get a little comfortable first.” Mycroft gave in, and you grinned at him, before taking a hold of Mira’s reigns. 

“We’ll just walk on the outskirts in a circle at a slow pace.” You explained, before making Mira slowly start moving, trotting along beside you. You did a full lap of the small field you were in before looking back up at Mycroft, who’s shoulders weren’t as stiff anymore, and he didn’t look constipated anymore. “You’re doing great, honey.” You told him, his eyes coming and look at you, and he managed a small smile. 

“Yes, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be.” Mycoft admitted. You chuckle a little, gently patching the side of Mira’s neck. 

“You can thank Mira for the positive experience. I knew she’d be able to handle a nervous rider. It’s also why she’s great with kids. I’m just glad you trusted me enough to let me put you on her.” You commented, looking up at him. Mycroft looked back at you, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

“Of course I trust you. I love you.” He responded, his voice warm, which caused you to smile.

“Well since I love you too, how about after this lap I’ll get you off Mira so we can go inside and relax for the rest of the afternoon?” You suggest. Mycroft takes a moment to consider your words, before looking down at the horse, and pauses for a moment. 

“...I think I can handle a few more laps.”

Hope you liked it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[angeldcgs]

her lingering gazes would've clued most men in to her interest in them— hell, most would've interpreted some other innocuous gesture of friendliness as attraction— but it seemed she would need something more overt in order to hook mr. landry. it was testament to how good of a person he was that he didn't want to take advantage of dubious circumstances— lana had now thrown herself at him twice, and still he seemed intent on resisting her, not because he wasn't interested, but because he was trying to save her from herself, in a way. surely she couldn't possibly want to fuck him for her own self interests, and clearly she was just too damaged to understand how to properly communicate gratitude; her body was all she knew how to use, and it was up to him to show her that she was valued beyond that. some sort of classic male fantasy, one not inherently sexual in nature, but still erotic in a sort of reverse psychology sort of way. regardless of his noble intentions, lana didn't have the patience for the act, and it didn't take long for her to start to grow agitated. he kept teetering back and forth between the temptation to give in and his firm resolve to resist, and each time he went back to attempting to thwart her efforts, she had to clench her jaw to resist letting out a bratty whine. since when was seducing a man this difficult? an overworked, undersexed, unhappily married man, no less. it didn't make sense, but it did make her that much more determined to get him to crack. "you never know, mr. landry... better safe than sorry." god knows how homicidal she'd become if she ever had to go that long without getting fucked, so it wasn't all that far fetched. she'd roll with whatever excuse worked to get some sort of reaction out of him, and it clearly did. if she did happen to remember everything in the morning, speaking so callously about his family wold probably be the only thing that brought her guilt, but she was too far gone off her own fantasy to fully consider the gravity of it all. the only thing on her mind was the feeling of his cock outline beneath her hand, warmth radiating off it through the thin material of his pajama pants, and she suddenly found herself wondering if there were any hourly motels nearby. they were getting back to the more affluent, suburban area of town, but she was pretty sure she knew of a couple back in the direction of the club, unless they'd been shut down or sold since she'd last visited. as spacious as the backseat was for carting a couple of children around to school and soccer practice, it didn't seem nearly roomy enough for all she wanted to do with mr. landry. she let out a genuinely involuntary gasp as the car jerked to the right and she very nearly slid and bumped into the window before she corrected herself. his more forceful approach threw her off, eyes widening at his firm grip on her wrist, stunned into silence if only for a moment. she'd never seen him be so stern, not even with the twins, and it made her slightly dizzy with arousal to feel him exert his strength over her. the heaviness of her lids made her look almost sleepy, until he finished off with a hint of a threat, and she couldn't help but perk up immediately. "oh yeah?" she quirked a brow with a snort as she once again began trying to squirm out of his grasp. "misbehavior, is it? what are you gonna do, you gonna spank me, mr. landry?" for someone so small, lana was surprisingly strong, possessing a stubborn sort of resilience only fueled by alcohol and drugs, and with a considerable amount of struggling, she managed to work one hand free long enough to stick it down his pants, fumbling to circle her hand around his cock before he could stop her. "please? please let me..." far from the sultry minx she'd made herself out to be just moments ago, the neediness in her slightly bloodshot eyes and in her breathy tone was as genuine as ever, just feeling the weight of him in her hand before she went any further.

sully had chalked up to what had happened after the party as one big misunderstanding, something that he couldn't be mad at lana for considering the rest of the events of the night. if anything, he'd felt a wave of pity for her, assuming that she was only trying to come onto him because she thought had to thank him for defending her. if he were a worse man he might've taken advantage of her vulnerability in that moment and let her touch him as she claimed to have wanted to but he was trying not to be that man, especially at the cost of disrespecting lana. it was easy to turn her away then because she gave up so easily, however the same couldn't be said for the version of his nanny that sat in the passengers seat, seemingly desperate to grope at his cock like it was the air she needed to breathe. he was trying to be that noble man, the one who saw how inappropriate the situation was and put a stop to it but he was also too soft to properly put his foot down and say no. with each flickered glance sent in lana's direction, he was met with the sight of her big eyes glimmering with mischief as she giggled at her blatant objectification. not only was it almost too much to hear her using such language, to be the subject of her dirty talk made him hyper-aware of his body in a way he hadn't been for a long time. he opened his mouth to formulate some kind of reply but nothing came, there was nothing he could say that would make any difference to the situation, not when lana was set so in her ways. as much as he wished he was, sully wasn't immune to that sickly sweet lana put on as she cooed fake sympathies about his abstinence, that was until she began to dive head first into the absurd and sully was forced to bark out a laugh. "are you serious? lana that's- you're being ridiculous. i'm fine, i'm not- jesus christ." she was insatiable, for a brief moment he thought he'd finally managed in getting her to keep her hands to herself but like clockwork, another dainty hand reached out and gripped the heavy weight of his cock through his pants once more. parking did sound like a pretty good idea, though not for the reason that lana seemed to be rallying for. the last thing either of them needed was for sully to somehow manage to crash the car on the empty road because he was too flustered by her advances, he only had two hands and she clearly needed them both in order to be held back from groping him like he was a piece of meat there for her pleasure. unable to move her hand away without letting go of her wrist or taking one off the stirring wheel, sully let out a shaky sigh and took a sharp turn to the right, pulling onto the side of the road. the second the car screeched to a stop, he was forced to once again grab at the hand stimulating him and pull her away with a sharp yank, though his grip was harsher than before. if she wouldn't listen to him then he'd have to apply some force, physically restraining her wasn't ideal and made him feel a little crazy but it was the only thing that he thought could work. "listen to me. you need to stop this. all of it, alright? i'm going to take you home and you'll sleep this off and tomorrow we can forget this ever happened but i won't tolerate your misbehaviour any longer. understand?"