#He is the only one with no kids and unattached so i wanted his room to reflect his free lifestyle and the sheer amount of pan energy

[seasonalbeauties]

Renovation WIP: Lazlo Curious' Bedroom

[grrrfrogs]

she's not me.

homelander x supereader

warnings - mentions of death, stalking, angst

(covid doesn't exist in this universe)

based off of the song "she's not me" by lana del ray.

your pov:

you and homelander were the most popular superhero couple. atleast, you guys were 2 years ago.

2 years ago, you and homelander went on a mission, involving a heavily armed group and 3 supes that Vought called super terrorists, when it came down to fighting the last one, he threw you against the wall. as he walked towards you, you attempted to get up and fight him back.

you felt so weak from his throw but you knew you had to fight back, you didn't know where homelander was. as you finally gain back consciousness, the supe terrorist throwing what looked like lightning at you, groaning as you collapsed.

all you saw was the guy walking over to you and touched your body sending lightning through your entire body. electrocuting you to death.

atleast, that's what everyone else thought.

you woke up in some lab, you felt sore and weak, almost like you've just gone through hell and back. you groaned as you woke up from your coma, pulling off the tubes that were connected to your body.

"hello?"

you shouted out, you couldn't recognize the place you were in nor could you sense it being anywhere you or someone you know could have been.

you see a nurse walk towards your room, gasping at the sight before she shouts for someones name you couldn't recognize to come look.

you felt as some circus animal that kids wouldn't help but stare at, it made you feel nervous and self conscious, you were in the seven! what the fuck are you doing here.

you heard the doors open to where you back up, seeing two armed guards behind what looks like, an old nurse, not old enough to where she's brittle, but maybe im her late 60s. tilting your head at the sight.

"where the fuck am i."

you shout roughly, you narrowed your eyes at them, it was some Vought workers.. they asked you to sit down and if you cooperated, you would be let out in a month. nodding as all you wanted was to go back to your fiance, homelander.

"you got electrocuted to death, atleast that's what we thought. we were going to pull your plug today."

you were shocked, maybe that was an understatement but it was true. you.. died? that's impossible. Y/N doesn't die.

"how long was i out?"

you ask nervously, looking at the nurse with almost sad eyes, your mouth gaped open slightly. you saw the nurse look at the guards then back down to her hands, giving a small sigh.

"a year and a half. it's 2020 now.."

she said nervously. you began shaking your head, confused on how you could be out for so long. you stared back up at the nurse before mouthing "no" towards her, you were in deep denial.

homelanders pov:

when he saw your limp body fall, your veins becoming purple as your skin looked translucent. he looked at the supe terrorist, immediately lasering his eyes out, before walking over and ripping his body in half.

he picked up your limp body before flying away as quick as possible, flying to a Vought medical facility that was an hour away since it was the best hospital for superhero's. he stayed by you for months, always visiting you until when he heard the doctors whisper to themselves saying that you won't make it, he thought to himself that he better get unattached to you.

and so he stopped showing up, he stopped waiting for you.

the loss of you and translucent was definitely hard for not only Vought but for the seven, that was until he met storm front. every time he was around her he got reminded of the person who killed you, but he couldn't help but gain feelings for her.

he felt disgusting for it, for liking someone while you were in a coma, especially with someone's powers that caused it. but he tried disassociating powers from person, and that's when they started dating.

your pov:

you of course, didn't know about this. you thought that homelander didn't know where you were and Vought was hiding you from him, but you felt awkward asking, worried that maybe, there is a reason you weren't coming and seeing.

a week went by and you've been training on your strength, regaining your superpowers and this time, somehow in someway, they felt stronger.

you got to have access to some of the media, not really the news but that was only because the nurses knew you would freak out if you saw homelander with someone.

so for a month straight, you regained muscle, strength, and your powers. all you wanted was to see homelander so he could see how strong you were for fighting to wake up from that stupid coma, how strong you were for getting back your strength.

you didn't know how you recovered so fast, you assumed that the doctors were putting in small amounts of compound v in your blood stream.

homelanders pov:

he didn't know you recovered, in actuality he thought you died after a month of him not visiting. he would wake up from nightmares seeing you die over and over again, he would see you standing and staring at him in everywhere he went.

you haunted him.

when he would kiss storm front or when they would have sex, he would be visioning it was you under him, sometimes he would be shocked because it was your lifeless body or sometimes it was just you being alive.

he finally started to get the terrors away from him, he started focusing more on work and storm front, all of this was going well until he saw you in downtown NY. he stared freaking out again, you looked real this time. he blinked and you disappeared.

"fuck."

he muttered under his breath.

your pov:

it came to your release day, you were so deeply excited. they told you about some albums that were dropped and how they were going to give you some new clothes, what you were in right now was the replica of your super hero suit.

"will i see homelander?"

you asked awkwardly, giving a small smile. the excitement building up as you waited for their response.

"maybe."

they say nervously, not wanting to say no to you since you wouldn't understand why. "he is your fiance! why wouldn't you be able to see him." you thought to yourself.

you nodded at their response, feeling upset at the awkward maybe they gave you. it felt like they were hiding something from you, but you didn't know why or what it was.

as you sat in the back seat of the black car, you felt your excitement build up as you started seeing the tall buildings. you felt at home.

they dropped you off at time square where you excitedly smiled, this was the first time you were back at home after your coma.

it was all going well until you saw the big screen of homelander and stormfront, at first you were excited! seeing your fiance on television, but all of that went away, turning into confusion and anger when you saw them kiss.

"what the.. fuck..?!"

you shouted, you watched as she held homelanders hand as he smiled at her, they talked about their love life and you felt sick. utterly sick.

you had no one to show you around but you could hear somehow, through the honking, the talking, and the cars driving. you heard homelanders voice. you ran as fast as you could over to the set.

you felt adrenaline pumping through your veins, you ran as fast as you could, even shoving people down when they came in your way.

the pit in your stomach only deepening when the voices became louder, you walked up to set even when the producers told you to get off because they were filming, not realizing you were THE y/n.

you were about 20 feet away from them but you saw clear view of homelander, he looked.. inlove. but with her. you felt sick as your mouth dropped.

homelanders pov:

he had an interview with storm front today, they got to talk about their love for eachother and he felt happy!

he felt at peace, storm front comforted him about how you were dead, and that she was here for him.

when they got on set, storm front would kiss his cheek noticing your nervousness about me, they even fucked in his trailer 20 minutes before getting interviewed.

everything was going well, he kissed her on live TV he couldn't think on how anything could go wrong, he forgot about you for a minute, the first time in a year and a half.

all of that went away when he smelled your familiar smell, he felt his heart pumping as it began to get closer and closer, he started drifting off, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

"homelander?"

storm front said to him, looking at him confused as he finally gained consciousness, apologizing about him drifting off, making an excuse about saying he thought he heard someone in trouble.

your smell still lingered in his nose, getting closer and closer until.. you were right infront of him. he felt a pit in his stomach, he started blinking, trying to see if it was just a illusion or if it was you.

"Y/N..?"

he gasped out.

alright even if people don't want it IM MAKING A PART TWO! i really hope u guys enjoyed this because i def did writing this.

also i've been NEEDING homelander angst especially something that makes my heart hurt a little ;3

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area

Chapter 2

It was a very weird ride. Danny felt like he was an authority on uncomfortable and strange conversations, given his bizarre family and all the experiences he'd had: but it was exquisitely uncomfortable sitting next to his bride sacrifice and making conversation.

The guy didn't offer his name. He was- honestly, he was built. Danny tried not to get caught visually measuring how absurdly broad the guy's shoulders were. He was weirdly offended that the cultists had sent him someone who was more ripped than he was.

"What's that?" The guy prompted. Jason. This guy's name was Jason. It was a little hard to keep in mind given he didn't really look like a Jason. He looked like… The Red Biker 👻😱🩸 or some shit.

Danny mentally rewound his own babbling and brightened when he realized that there was at least some interest in NASA's newest telescope. He infodumped on rote. It genuinely was an interesting topic! But he'd told 3 people about it already so it didn't take all of his attention.

At one point, Jason pinched his middle finger and used the grip to pull off his glove. Danny swallowed. He tried not to stare at the first glimpse of skin. It was not super light or super dark– a little tanner than Danny, maybe. Not that that said much when he was living like a cave creature in a dorm room, trying to get the grades to be an astronaut.

'He's human,' Danny thought. Of course he was, he'd been sent from earth, but-

He just felt like a ghost.

The confusion put his hackles up. It was weird to perceive this guy as a possible threat. But he wasn't! He was just some hot dummy who got caught by friggin Jeremy Waters. Jeremy. Come on. It didn't get much sadder than that.

But overall? He could see why the Infinite Realms had gotten mixed up enough to accept this guy. Red was definitely weird enough to be a ghost, dressed up for the combination war front/biker bar/club. He hadn't made a move to take off his ugly motorcycle helmet the whole time they'd been talking. It was kind of creepy, to be honest.

The most disturbing part was that he smelled, like, really good. He smelled like sexy death and Danny kinda wanted to roll around in it like the world's most educated cat.

It was with some relief that Danny bounded away from his semi husband, up the stairs to Clockwork. "You know who it is and why I'm here!" He hollered, hands making a megaphone shape around his mouth. "Help me! I'm too young to be a child bride."

"Technically," Clockwork said, floating pleasantly into view, "you are too old to be a child bride. As you are not a child, Danny."

He waved that off. "I'm a kid on the inside," he dismissed. "And 19 is basically a high schooler."

"As you say." Clockwork drifted away. Danny followed. "How is your university coursework?"

"It's fine." Danny shrugged. "The Gen Eds are giving me war flashbacks to Mr. Lancer, though."

"You liked him," Clockwork said.

Danny bristled. "I did not!"

He kinda had. Mr. Lancer could have been a lot worse.

That was beside the point. Danny caught up to his ghost mentor. "I can't be distracted from this," he said, aiming for stern. "There's some human out there who wants to go home. I also want him to go home. How do we make that happen ?"

"Why Danny, have you forgotten about portals?"

Danny scowled. "You know what I mean," he groused. "I want to send him home single. Unattached. Not married to me at all."

Clockwork finally stopped moving and looked directly at him. His large eyes held only a kind of curiosity. "I suppose that you could banish him. That would have the effect of ending your relationship."

Danny hesitated. He'd learned that accepting suggestions on their face could go very badly. "That seems kinda harsh," he said. "Would there be any repercussions of that?"

Clockwork hummed from the back of his throat. "Yes, it would prevent young Jason from becoming a ghost when he passes again. Excuse me, I want that shelf behind you."

Danny moved out of the way on reflex before he processed those words. "That sounds bad."

The older ghost seemed to shrug. "The Ghost king can banish ghosts, and your paramour is ghostly enough to qualify. It would solve your current dilemma."

He deliberately chose not to respond to the word 'paramour.'

"I'm actually looking for a solution that doesn't interfere with the state of his soul and afterlife," Danny said dryly. Then he blinked. "You're really gonna call him Jason?"

Clockwork reached up and withdrew a metal object from the shelf. It clicked in his hand. "Indeed."

Danny waited for another divorce suggestion. When Clockwork didn't give one, he groaned. "How do I find another solution?" He asked, tired. This was another test, wasn't it? It was a chance for him to problem solve on his own.

That netted him a beaming smile. "You should take him to the royal library."

"And look for information about ghost divorces?" Danny asked. Clockwork gave him an enigmatic smile.

He chose to believe that was a yes. Danny patted his mentor's shoulder. "Thanks!" He shouted, already turning on his heel. "I'll do that. Have a good day!"

"Goodbye, Danny."

Jason hadn't moved at all, sitting weirdly tense and tall in the passenger seat. Danny gave him a nervous smile as he jumped in.

"Did you find out anything?" Jason asked. His voice was even enough to obscure whatever it was he thought, and the helmet made the words come out kinda flat and mechanical.

Danny winced. "Yes and no," he said, trying to find cheerful. "The first solution seems kinda bad, to be honest, so let's go to the library and look for another one!"

"...Ghosts have public libraries?" Jason said.

"No," Danny said. And then he frowned. "Maybe? I don't know. I haven't seen one but I haven't been here long. We're going to Pariah's creepy old castle to look at his library." He started up the Specter Speeder and took off. "It's big. And he was a real creep, so he probably had, uh." He cleared his throat. "Paramours." His face was getting hot and red. Maybe it wasn't obvious. He tried to look unaffected. "Probably why that ritual was out there," he babbled. Wow, the minutes separating their destinations felt very long when he was digging a verbal hole. "He probably had a lot of sacrifices he accepted, maybe that's where the skeleton army came from actually."

"Skeleton army?" Jason managed to sound incredulous through the world's ugliest motorcycle helmet. "How do ghosts and skeletons both exist in proximity?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, if you don't need the physical body to exist, why would anyone retain their corpse?"

Danny laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's weird," he agreed.

'Don't ask me afterlife questions,' he mentally begged. 'I just work here. I don't know the answers.'

"Metaphysically-"

"Do you like sports?" Danny interrupted in a high voice.

Jason paused. "No. Do you?"

"...Not really," Danny admitted, thinking of getting ganged up on in dodgeball and knocked down in basketball.

They existed in what felt like a confused silence for a few minutes. Danny parked the Speeder outside of the castle and I clicked his seatbelt with a rush of relief. "We're here," he said. He threw open the top.

Jason didn't move from where he was flat against the backrest, only lifting his head. "... Should I come too?"

Danny blinked down at him and waved a hand in invitation. "Yeah, let's go. This is kinda my place now so I can invite you in."

Jason moved forward abruptly, like he'd just gotten unstuck from the seat. Something about it looked wrong to his hindbrain. But Danny dismissed it and started off at a jog. It wasn't his business if Jason was a weird little guy. (Weird big guy? It didn't sound the same, but Jason wasn't petite.)

Jason paused on the battlements. Danny looked back and tried to see it from his perspective. The architecture was jagged, pitch black, and without any of the friendly colorful touches a castle should have. "It's kind of creepy," he said apologetically. "Pariah has just the worst vibe. Rancid energy."

"...Is it smart to say that?" Jason wondered. He started walking again.

Danny shrugged. "What's he gonna do to me?" He asked rhetorically. "Get his butt kicked again?"

[starsomens]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 9 • 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵…

̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿ ̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿ ̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Warnings: language, reader, inactive situation, reader is drugged at one point, reader is assaulted by getting slapped, mentions of blood, betrayal, (this is like a part 1)

Reference: When I say Noah gears up PLEASE Picture this!

Your head is spinning as he finally come to. Your head was pounding as you could only see the ground. Trying to move your hands you realize that you are bound to where you sat. Trying to move your legs was futile as well as you found yourself strap to chair by rope. Raise your head and try to look around

Didn’t recognize where you were. You couldn’t even see outside from where you were. For all you know, it could be the next morning and you would have no idea.

You turn your head as best as you could to take a good look at your surroundings. There wasn’t anything in the room, except for a dimly lit lightbulb overhead. There were no windows, and it was eerily, quiet, the type of silence to drive someone crazy if they were there long enough. And Alfred…that bastard!

You start to struggle against your streams just a bit trying to see if you can find any kind of wiggle room to get out. You wiggle around the chair, making it lean from side to side. You start going back-and-forth groans, frustration, escape your lips wanting to break free from the ropes. You unfortunately, move a bit too much and causes air to fall over onto its side, causing you to shriek as you slam onto the cold floor

“Fuck….” You say a bit out of breath as you rest your head on the cold floor hating that you were now in a worse situation than it was when you were sitting just open with a heavy scraping along the floor. In steps to armed in masked men while another man walks in. He wore a black suit. With a scar going down his face from the left corner of his eyebrow down to the right corner of his lip.

“Looks like you’re finally awake,” a gruff and deep voice comes from the character in front of you. This must’ve been easy. You remember him vividly from the picture Noah has showed you. “ Listen whenever these things involve ladies such as yourself I hate to see things and messy, so let’s make this nice and simple huh?” he said coming over and picking up the chair off of the floor sitting back up right

"I need you to leave Sebastian, go back to your little family and forget all this bullshit, got it?" Sebastian?

"leave...Noah?"

"Ah, you got it, smart girl," he gives you the fakest smile possible. "you didn't actually think of staying with him did you?" he chuckled

"Well....I wasn't exactly planning on leaving either," you answer

"Right now you take way more than you can chew, my advice, back up, step down, find some kid who's willing to kiss your feet. This matter isn't up to you," he says lighting a cigar and taking a long puff, the smoke surrounding his head

"See I either need him unattached or married to Denise, you on the other hand, are dragging him down,"

"Denise?" You ask with a smirk

"Yea...Denise, something funny?" he asks stepping closer to you

"Oh it's nothing....just last time I checked Noah couldn't stand her," something in you wanted him to know exactly who you were and where Noah stood with you. "and if anyone was on heir knees for me...it was Noah, wanting ME to come home.."

Lucian glared at you through his nose as his jaw clenches

"So, why don't you try and stick your bratty daughter with some other other poor-" a sharp pain comes across your face, his large hand leaving your right cheek stinging. You were sure that was going to bruise. He says nothing as he sneers at you and walks away, he stands in the door way and says

"you're lucky I need you alive....maybe he can convince you otherwise," another figure comes into frame as Lucien shoves him into the room. The heavy door shuts and you find yourself with a familiar face

"....Mathew?...."

(Noah)

"Get all the dogs out and tracking, I need a scan of every dock we have-and where the fuck is Nick?!"

Noah was on a rampage. He was at his office pressuring his workers to find you faster, any clues, any signs, ANYTHING. He had gotten no sleep while he drove around the city to find you. Now back in his office having his men try and track you down.

You were gone, with no phone, and nothing left behind. Luckily Koda had gotten some DNA in his mouth and Nick was currently processing it. However, it's been about 5 hours now and Noah wanted answers 3 hours ago. But Nick had to get any kind of DNA possible that was in the mouth of a dog for some time. He was determined to find who took you and personally deal with them.

"Keep your pants on I'm here," he said handing him the file "You're not going to like the results" Noah raises his brow as he opens the file, his eyes going wife

"WHAT?! That piece of shit!" Alfred of all people, the one he assigned to you, to drive, "FUCK!.....how's Vilma doing?" he asked running his hand over his face. While looking around the mansion he had found Vilma tied and sedated in her room. Probably just an hour before everything happened

"Vilma is recovering, she can't recall anything past the time you left. The cameras were cut, security was tapped into and told to leave post, everything was thought through," Nick tells him everything he needs to know "But I don't think it was all Alred..."

"who would you-" "Sir," someone interupts Noah

"Not no-,"

"But sir it's Lucien..." he stops talking and turns to his man, taking the phone he puts it to his ear and walks out into the hallway to speak with him

"Lucien,"

"Noah my, how are ya'?" he asked knowing damn well what the answer was

"Shit, Y/N is missing, fucking Alfred took her," he stresses "Listen, did you need something? I'm a little busy right now..."

"Oh don't worry you can call off the little treasure hunt, I've got all your answers,"

"Call of the- what the hell are you......Lucien...what the fuck do you mean you have my answers?"

"Don't worry she's safe, no wounds, no broken bones no split lip, but she has a mouth on her, don't know how you put up with hat shit,"

"...." Noah was silent. He either mouthed off and something happened to you, or he shut up and thought of his next move

"Look you want this girl back right? Or for the most part alive and free right?" he took a pause knowing Noah would just listen to him "leave the broad, get Denise, and it's over"

"This is still about Denise?-"

"Damn right it is, point is I need YOU to stay in fucking line. Marry her, take your place and forget this ever happened...got it?"

"I'm coming for Y/N." was all Noah said

"What? Listen you fucking-hello? Hello?!"

he hung up, drops the phone on the desk and leans into Nicks ear and says

"Get everyone in the garage, we're heading to Lucien,"

"Lucien!? But Noah-" the door closes to the room before Nick could stop him. As Noah walks down the hall he could feel was...numbness, he felt a hole in his chest...but he felt that hole being filled by something. Something vengeful and violent. He was getting you back and he was taking down ANYONE who stood in his way. He goes into his private closet and readies himself (see linked image at top). Signature ski mask, his gun, ammo, gloves, some smoke bombs and some sedatives. Looking himself over in the mirror to make sure he didn't forget anything, he sees a small picture of you in the frame. It was a candid picture that was taken on the day you had gone shopping. You were relaxed and at ease, and even had a soft smile. That was the first day Noah looked at you and thought of you as his....his wife, his girl....his.

A knock comes to the door

“Come in,” Noah says as he’s checking his gun for ammo. As he looks a PCs jolly and her. The tall, long haired man was also armed and ready to go at a word.

“Just say the word we’re good to go…”

“Good, I hope they all know we’re not leaving until we bring her back alive”

“Oh we are well aware of that one….Noah,” jolly rests his hand on Noah’s shoulder “we’re getting her back…knowing you, you’ll kill Lucian yourself if it means getting her back”

“…..” Noah didn’t know what to say. There were many times he would go to Jolly looking for someone to trust in someone to give him advice.

“I know you love her…” that statement made no turn around

“But-“

“Oh come on noah,” he chuckles “I see the way you look at her, and when was the last time you bought that many flowers for a single girl? Let alone someone you were in a relationship with,”

Oh cracked a smile “you got me there…”

It was true you were the first girl he had ever been that way with. Even in relationships or affairs he show little to no emotion or interest. You however, had gotten this man onto his knees, bought flowers that cost him thousands, he would kiss your feet if you asked him to. You were his wife....you were his girl....

"get the trucks fueled up, we're leaving in 5."

(Y/N)

"Mathew....what the fuck...."

"...." he was quiet as he looked at you and then down to his feet

"Mathew fucking answer me why are you here!? Get me lose!"

"I...I can't....Lucien he-"

"Oh whatever he's your boss and? I'm your sister-"

"Y/N..." he rubbed at his eyes as he started swaying in his spot

"No, don't shut me up! Why the fuck are you here?"

"Because I asked him to!" he revealed, it couldn't have been what you were thinking right?

"Asked him....to what?...."

"To fucking bring you here what else? Like did you actually think it would work between you guys?"

"Oh please you don't even-"

"This man kills people with his bare fucking hands, he's slept and ditched women left and right! You didn't even want this so why are you fighting this so hard?" He barks, he couldn't grasp why this was so important to you, "Just sign the papers, I'll take you home and none of this happened....that's final."

"So what you take dad's place and suddenly your on a power drive?" you roll your eyes

"Remember when I had gone to visit you? How you asked if I was doing okay?," that was the day after you had slept with Noah "I was going to tell you how I found a way to bring you home, where you wanted to be," he said as he paced in the small space "Do you know how much money, the shit I had to do, the blood I lost so I could bring you out of your misery?! Just so you can go and fuck him?!"

"You don't get to dictate my life!" you snap back "What if I don't want to go back? What if I want to stay? What if shit changed?!" Mathew had a puzzled look on his face and suddenly his face comes to a realization

"...you like him...don't you?" it was quiet, you could hear the buzz of the naked bulb in the room

"....." you blink at him

"In fact you fucking love him don't you?" he gives a breathy scoff "All of this shit for nothing.....and you love him-"

"I don't!"

"Don't give me that bullshit! You fucking slept with him, and went back after you came home!,"

...What if he was right? What if...you did love him...and wanted to be with him

"Mathew....please, you need to understand....I-I..."

"You don't have to explain," he turns his back to you and starts leaving

"Mathew! Wait Ple-" he shut the door cutting you off, you could only slouch over yourself as you felt tears well up in your eyes. You cry in your pitiful state. You were always so close with your brother and now this?? You were kidnapped, tied up, betrayed and now alone in this stupid fucking cell.....all you could really do was cry....and Noah....did you.....

As you sat there thinking about what Mathew had said you couldn't help but think back to all this time you had been together. All those nights together, dinners, shopping, morning hours wrapped in his arms, soft kisses int he shower. Those nights he would come home with blood on his hands, and those same hands would hold and caress you like the most fragile thing in the world....and you missed it. You missed his scent, his smile, his big figure shielding you....you missed Noah

Mathew POV:

I couldn’t believe it. My own sister, fell in love with a bastard like Noah….Do all this for her just so she can say she doesn't want to...

I knock on Lucian's door and wait for his guards to open up for me. The dark double doors open with a moan as I see him sitting at his desk, cigar between his lips, and a glass of some expensive brand of whiskey. He seemed almost staged, like the mafia bosses you see in movies. I stop a few feet from his desk

"She won't do it..."

"Make her. I don't got time to fuck around, kid." he said grabbing a wad of cash with his big hands hand , his finger flicking through the bills

"I can't! She won't budge, look we can just call this off and he goes back and-oof!" one of his guards comes and gets a hit in my stomach with his knee. The hit knocking the air out of my lungs, knocking me on to my knees

"I invested too much of my time into your bullshit! You're gonna fucking make her or I will," as I stare at the ground in front of me, his shiny shoes stopping in front of me "either Denise is in the picture and that bitch is out, or I'll make sure you both disappear off the face of this city......got it?"

I mumbled something under my breath, knowing I'd say it to his face but I wasn't trying to get killed on the spot

"Fuck you say to me ya lil pussy?" he voice was low but threatening, I could feel his hand in my hair as he pulls on it to make me look up at him "You wanna say that shit again?!"

My chest rises and falls as i stare him in the eye "Fuck. You." he pushes me back on to the floor and let's go of my hair

"mm aight..aight..." he said slightly slurred, he paced in front of my as he rubbed his chin thinking to himself "everyone out, gotta teach 'em myself. kid aint never learn his place,"

the muffled sound of feet on the carpet fades out as the door closed and I'm left alone with Lucien.

"You know why I got red carpets in here...don't you?" he asked opening one of the drawers on his desk, setting something heavy down on the wood furniture "it's so I'm not reminded of the useless scumbag blood left on my floor,"

̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿ ̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

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[soft-girl-musings]

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Jake Lockley x plus size fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for thirsty jake, author does not dance but saw it on the tv once (i'm mostly kidding), mustachioed jake jumpscare (tagging for the haters), no use of Y/N

wc: 1.9k

fic summary: For Jake, a night on the town means sticking to the background, listening for signs of trouble. That all changes when he sees you at the dance hall.

A/N: still on the jake train and I am making it everyone's problem. just wanted to preface by saying, as a curvy girlie, i recognize that plus size folk are not a monolith. so everything in this fic is based on my own experience, etc. enjoy!

----------

Jake likes to keep his intel hotspots in rotation. 

Mondays and Wednesdays he'll head to the diner after a day in the cab, refueling and checking in with his network.

Tuesdays and Thursdays he'll hit the bars. Weekends are mostly for driving.

But Fridays? Fridays are for dancing.

Jake's guilty pleasure is scoping out the dance hall. The clubs have their appeal, but there's something timeless about the hole in the wall he’d discovered a while back. Nothing special, just a cozy ballroom with a bar, tables lifted on a platform framing ¾ of the room and turning the dance floor into an inverse stage.

Tonight he nurses a beer in the corner, listening to a couple of seedy characters describe some suspicious activity at a warehouse he'd been tailing. But he hasn't caught much of their conversation. Truth be told, he's a bit distracted tonight.

Because of you.

He'd seen you come in with four other people, two couples by the look of it. He'd been immediately taken by you: while some patrons came to dance in jeans and t-shirts, you'd dressed to impress. He'd shamelessly raked his eyes over your form, generous curves hugged by the bodice of your dress that trailed down over your ample hips. You walked with a timid sway, the movement inevitable even as you drew your arms about yourself, settling into your seat with care at a table clear across the room from him.

As much as he's tried to fight it, his attention always drifts back to you: poised and pretty, eyes scanning the room as one couple, then another leaves you for the Latin-dance-of-the-week group lesson hosted like clockwork every Friday. The instructor drones on, but Jake is zeroed in on you: all softness and warmth, criminally tucked away from the rest of the fun.

The warehouse can wait.

__________

You don’t consider yourself the kind of girl someone crosses the room for.

That’s probably why you don’t notice the determined stranger making his way across the crowded dance floor, eyes trained on you as he adjusts his cap with a smirk.

You’re taking another sip of your overpriced cocktail when you hear an unfamiliar voice below you.

“Not a fan of the rumba?”

You finally register the man standing by the corner of your table. He’s handsome, you have to admit, his dark features highlighting kind brown eyes, creased from his almost too-eager smile. When you realize he’s talking to you, your words are still slow to come out.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s the mustache, isn’t it?” He grins sheepishly, dragging a palm across his lower face. “Knew it’d skeeve some people out, but I thought I’d give it a go.”

“No,” you say too quickly for your own liking, “It’s, ah– nice. Suits you.”

You’re met with a cheeky grin as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded as he leans in. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet a friendly face.”

You eye him warily, wondering what his angle could be. A quick glance around the room confirms there’s only so many unattached women surrounding the dance floor. You sigh internally. The game is always the same: keep them entertained until the girls they really want to talk to come back from the bar, or the bathroom, or stray just far enough from the guys they arrived with.

Might as well play along. 

Settling back into your seat, you tell him your name. His grin widens as he echoes it with something bordering reverence, and you bite your cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

Jake props one elbow on the table, looking up at you. Seems like he’s not going anywhere for a while.

“I gotta know– you not a fan of the rumba?”  He asks again, staring up at you dreamily. You don't catch it, your eyes flitting between him and the dance floor. The lesson is over, and couples spread out to dance independently.

“Hm? Oh, um– it’s alright,” you say with a shrug, arms wrapping around your middle again. “Just not a dancing night for me.” 

Truth be told, it’s been ages since anyone’s invited you to dance. You’ve contented yourself with watching, although something deep inside aches for someone to ask you to–

"Dance with me."

You raise an eyebrow, struck by his bluntness. "I'm sorry?"

He leans in, both arms now resting on the table. "Dance with me, doll." His grin widens as he drinks you in. Your cheeks heat under his gaze, and you almost believe the admiration behind his eyes.

You press your lips together and look back to the crowd. "No thanks."

"I promise I don't bite," he teases, baring his teeth for effect. The slight gap in his smile catches your eye and you look away again. He's definitely a charmer.

"I…" you trail off, searching for an excuse but find you're hesitant to give it. 

Your self-sabotaging streak wins out. "Sorry, I have to keep the table for my friends." You nod toward the couples you came with, each person settled in the arms of their partner as they stumble through the rumba on their own. Your frown deepens; it does look fun.

Jake hums and props his head on one hand. "Don't tell me you only tagged along to watch their purses? Not the best of friends," he adds, critique mixed with sympathy.

You almost tell him that this wasn't the plan, you were meant to have a date tonight. A date who suddenly couldn't make it once your friend had caved and sent him a picture of you– a snapshot you'd both hoped wouldn't "fatfish" but was flattering enough to entice him to commit. Clearly he didn't.

You consider telling him everything, so lost in thought you don't realize he's been saying your name. He calls you once more, and you snap back to the present, tearing your eyes away from the dance floor.

"Sorry, what was that?"

As you speak, Jake walks around the table until he's closer to your side. He holds out his hand.

"C'mon, one dance." He asks again, angling his head to catch your eye. "Please?"

The last of your resolve absolutely crumbles at the way his voice softens with every word. As if you have something he wants. As if you could reject him and make it sting. 

Oh, what the hell.

"...Alright. One dance." 

You didn't think he could smile any wider, but he does– tossing his cap onto the table and trailing a hand through his thick black curls, he's all crow's feet and smile lines as you accept his hand.

Jake weaves between dancing pairs with you in tow, until you reach the middle of the floor. Your eyes dart around at the couples surrounding you, but a gentle touch under your chin brings your attention back to him.

"Just focus on me, yeah?" His voice is still soft, keeping you grounded in the eye of the busy dance floor. You nod, letting out a shaky breath.

"Right, so–" Jake clasps your right hand and raises it to chin level. He moves your left hand to cradle his shoulder, and places his right hand on your shoulder blade. It takes everything in him not to squeeze the flesh under his palm; you're just as warm and soft as he'd thought you'd be.

He talks you through the basics, how to time your steps and the flow of each movement. Every so often, he’ll lift your chin again, since you keep looking at your feet to keep up.

You catch on quicker than you’d expected. Even though your cheeks are blazing, you feel yourself loosen up– your body relaxing, your hips swaying a bit more freely. 

Jake can tell: he’s never short of praise and encouragement, and has to remember his own advice to stop himself from watching your hips the whole time.

"Alright," he warns, "here's something a little tricky-"

As soon as you feel his hand flex, you know what to do. You step out and deftly spin under his arm, hips swaying with a cheeky flourish for effect.

Jake barks a laugh of surprise, arms settling back into place as you complete the step.

You let yourself crack a smile. “You third wheel enough of these dance lessons, you’re bound to pick some things up.”

“No kidding,” he affirms, resuming an easy rhythm for you both. You’d think he was born with that grin on his face, the way it hasn’t faltered since he introduced himself.

One song bleeds into another, but neither of you notice. Instead, you draw closer together, your frame more relaxed and your heart racing. With every beat, you fight back the budding intoxication of the moment. Because this can't be real; this can't be something that lasts. No matter how many praises he showers, winks he offers, or lingering brushes against your hips, shoulders, seemingly anywhere he can touch you, you know you won't be hearing from Jake once you leave this dance floor. That's how this always goes down.

The song ends and you both slow to a stop. Slightly breathless, your hands trail up to Jake’s shoulders, thumbs tracing the fabric there as you work up the courage to ask one last question.

"So… is this the part where you go back to your friends and tally up who got the big girl to believe you were interested?"

Jake's brows knit together, his hands pressed to your shoulder blades to hold you steady. "I don't-"

"Oh please, you don't have to pretend. I survived high school, I can take it." You smirk, worrying your lip to keep your disappointment at bay. This was a nice fantasy, but you know how this ends.

The band starts to play a slower tune, and his eyes meet yours. In a flash of flexed arms and footwork, you’re suddenly looking up at him, body tilted back as he dips you. A cheeky grin is plastered on his flushed features.

"Doll, you misunderstand." He draws you back up, bringing you cheek to cheek as the stubble of his warm face scratches your skin. He continues, voice low and close to your ear:

"We're dancin' because it'd be criminal to leave such a pretty wallflower unplucked all night." He starts to sway in time to the music, still holding you. An invitation to stay, to do this all again.

You lean back; his rapt attention is trained on you like before, the warmth in his brown eyes seeping into your cheeks. Your face blossoms into the widest smile, your soft angles catching the light and making you look downright radiant. 

"That's… so corny." And you laugh, a rich, uninhibited sound pouring from your lips until tears nearly spill down your cheeks. 

Jake takes it all in– the vision that you are. His hand trails down to the softness at the small of your back. The way you quake from laughter sends a thrill up his spine, and he chuckles in turn. If he wasn’t holding you, he swears he’d be a little weak in the knees.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder as you calm down. “What’s one more dance?” You breathe, letting yourself move in time with the music.

Jake bites his lip and nods, taking your hand again. “Thought you’d never ask, doll.”

With a flick of the wrist he spins you out, eliciting another laugh from you as he pulls you back in.

The warehouse can definitely wait: his night's going to be spent drawing that sweet sound from your lips as long as you'll let him.

----------

A/N: when I say "brainrot," i mean i couldn't sleep until i set this gd thing to publish (don't ask me what time)

huge shoutout to @hon3yboy @chrissymodi-frost and @mrsnadeem for letting me ramble in your DMs about dancer!Jake, all my love my darlings <3

addtl tag list: @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi

tysm for reading!

[horizon-verizon]

It’s so funny because Jaehaera died because Unwin Peake tried to do for his daughter the same thing Otto did for Alicent. It started with the Hand of the King making moves to pimp his daughter to the widowed king, and so like that it ends. Truly poetic.

I can already hear the comebacks: "Aegon III wasn't widowed like Viserys was!" or "Book!Alicent wasn't a child or 'underage' like Jaehaera when Alicent married Viserys!"

Not the point.

Jaehaera was like Alicent, but the girl was a literal, maddened child with no agency at all or ability to fight back as Alicent had. Through her father reducing her status in the line of succession and the war whittling down the people who could have protected her, Jaehaera was ultimately doomed for the similar reason that Rhaenyra was: her femaleness valued less than maleness. Jaehaera's only "usefulness" to anyone was her womb producing heirs that come from both the greens and the blacks. Her marrying Aegon was to prevent any green supporter or Alicent from using Jaehaera or any child she may birth against Aegon the Younger and drawing Westeros into another potential civil war. Once again, this part of the society does not care so much about noble girls and noblewomen apart from their reproductive labor, and actively discourages or tries tp prevent women and girls from living as their own persons/leaders (have agency or have similar powers and privileges as men/boys). This entire hierarchial system makes it much easier for disabled people, poor people, women & girls, etc. to fall victim to those seeking power; "power" comes down to how one (usually a man) has "claim" over other people's bodies & labor.

One of the green supporters in the war--who also was in the Caltrops meeting before the second Tumbleton battle--was the same one to have the only Green descendant left killed to make room for his own daughter to become queen to the current king and thus gain more power for himself and his house's glory and other benefits. Like Otto, he ignored the desires, will of the king (for him, which is Aegon III), and used the king's more vulnerable state of mind for his own purposes. Here the said state of mind was severe depression and being also a comparatively powerless child.

Jaehaera and Aegon III are clearly meant to echo Viserys and Alicent's and be the more vulnerable, choiceless couple. Why are they so vulnerable and choice-less, so unprotected? Well, who started this war by usurping a female heir, the only one left to a past king (for a time), and his first wife? (Jaehaera was Aegon III's first wife as Aemma was Viserys'.) Jaehaera's immediate family and faction, the greens. Who starred a war where all the dragons ultimately died and continued to die despite some people's efforts, thus denying these two children some sort of power they could have had against such predatory people like Unwin? The greens.

The greens ultimately so weakened the Targ dynasty (mind you, Alicent's four kids are all Targaryens with these own claims) in usurping someone -- because they wanted power for themselves and used the societal value of femininity and womanhood against said usurped person -- that one of their own, a girl herself, the last one, couldn't consolidate power for herself. nor was thought to deserve her own life unattached to the present king and the welfare of the entire realm despite her being a disabled child.

Unwin Peake was always mostly in it for himself and so chose the side that seemed to go for his own greedy aspirations. It reflected the Targ greens' and Alicent's greed and envy and was the consequence of the greens' actions. Both her and Aegon's conditions were consequences of their ancestors, including Viserys.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 23 - The Last of Us

Joel Miller x Reader (not sure I’ll write about this again, but I wanted to try) 

After the appearance of the Cordyceps, Joel Miller had lost everything.

"Like many people", some might have responded by calling him selfish. Everyone had been affected in one way or another because of this apocalypse.

His life had never been easy. After the death of his wife, he had been able to cling to Sarah, his little ray of sunshine. Some days were better than others for a single father. His little brother Tommy helped him out a bit, but they weren't that close, and he had his own family to take care of.

That had changed when he met Y/N.

Joel never thought he would ever find love again. He didn't think he needed it either, and he had been afraid that Sarah would think he had forgotten about her mother.

Fortunately the two women in his life were intelligent and gentle. Y/N had immediately been very clear, she knew that she would never replace Sarah's mother, even if she loved the girl with all her heart. Sarah accepted the young woman without the slightest difficulty, finding her nice and being happy that her father was not alone anymore.

Everything had been perfect for a few years.

Then there had been the Cordyceps.

It happened while Y/N was travelling across the country for work. She was due back in two or three days, she had called them a few hours before the chaos started. It was the last time Joel had been able to hear her voice, that he had been able to tell her that he missed her and that he loved her.

He hadn't had time to tell all this to Sarah. She had been taken from him in seconds, without him being able to do anything to save her.

After that, the state of the world did not matter to him in the slightest. In one night, his daughter was dead in his arms, and he had no chance of contacting or finding Y/N, who was certainly dead too, alone and terrified, away from him.

So, yes, even though he was still breathing, and his brother was there, and the humans were fighting to rebuild, Joel considered he had lost everything. He had died that night.

That explained why he couldn't be nice to Ellie at all.

The kid didn't deserve this, he knew that. He repeated it to himself often. It wasn't fair that he treated her so badly, when she too had suffered, growing up in a ruined universe, but he couldn't help it.

Every time he looked at her, he saw Sarah and Y/N. He refused to grieve. He refused to attach himself to anyone else.

Not only did he risk losing that person again, by not being able to protect them, but he also felt like he was betraying the women he loved if he opened up to Ellie.

She wouldn't replace them, ever. Nothing would ever be as important as them, and there was no room for anyone else in his heart.

Joel was still protective of her. He was saying that it was because he had a mission, he had to get her safely to the research lab, but it was mostly because she was a kid, and he couldn't give up on a kid.

He was dead inside, but he wasn't a monster.

So it was a terrible moment for him when he lost Ellie during an attack of cannibals and infected. He had ordered her to hide and of course she had not obeyed.

And now he couldn't find her. She could have been kidnapped, just as she could have been devoured.

Refusing to leave without finding her, whether she was alive or not, Joel searched the abandoned town for hours, looking for a lead, before setting off for the forest.

Night had fallen when he saw light in a cave. He found Ellie there, sitting by a fire with a woman. He put his hand on his gun. The young girl was unattached, she didn't seem hurt, and was talking calmly with the stranger, but he preferred to be careful.

But in the dark, he couldn't see well and he stepped on a branch, attracting their attention. Ellie recognized him right away, smiling as the woman turned, ready to fight, before she saw his face.

           "Joel ?" she whispered uncertainly before getting up to run to him and jump into his arms. "Joel !"

           "... Y/N."

For a second, he hesitated to touch her. He was afraid that she would disappear and he would realize that it was only a dream.

But no, Y/N, his Y/N, was there, after all her years, alive and hugging him, crying and repeating his name over and over again.

           "I'm so happy to see you again ! When the blackout happened... I tried to go home, but they blocked the roads. I had no way to contact you, I didn't know if you were going to stay in the same place, it wasn't safe. I travelled by car and on foot, not really knowing where to go. I... I didn't know if you were still alive. Oh, Sarah ! Where's Sarah ?! You left her in a shelter while you are taking Ellie to your meeting point ? I... I have the dolphin she wanted. You remember, she asked me to bring her a dolphin, I have it in my bag ! Where is she ?"

If he had answered her with words, Joel knew he wouldn't have been able to keep his composure. So he just looked at her in the eye. Slowly, her smile faded, she shook her head before starting to cry again, tears of sadness this time.

           "No. No, Sarah, no..."

Even if she had imagined that possibility, hearing the news was still painful. So Joel held her in his arms until she stopped crying, and then they went to the fire.

He ordered Ellie to get some sleep, adding that she should never walk away like she had. The kid sighed but said nothing, grabbing a blanket and laying down on the floor.

The two adults watched her until she seemed asleep, then Y/N turned to Joel, taking his hand.

           "I'm so sorry. You don't need to tell me. I can imagine what happened. It wasn't pretty where I was. I know you would have given anything to her. It's not your fault."

           "It wasn't even one of those creatures that killed her."

           "It's still not your fault. I wish I was there."

           "I'm glad you're alive." he muttered, lowering his eyes.

           "Ellie told me a bit about your mission. She didn't give a name, I didn't realize... Joel, she told me you were pretty cold to her. Mean. Why ?"

He didn't answer. He knew she could guess, she knew him well, she knew how he worked. The problems they'd had, the times he'd felt like he'd betrayed his first wife.

           "No one is asking you to be her father. Just because you love her and care about her doesn't mean you forget about Sarah."

           "I know."

           "Really ? I'm going to tell you something that will upset you and I apologize in advance for it."

           "Go ahead." he sighed, because he didn't care to suffer and he knew that Y/N had always been the voice of reason, the person who made him more human.

           "If you were dead and Sarah was alive, and she was with a man who treats her like you treat Ellie... Would you be satisfied ?"

Honestly, Joel didn't have an answer to that question. No, he wouldn't be satisfied, and at the same time, even if he wasn't soft on the kid, he wouldn't leave her, he always made sure nothing bad happened to her, and in a way, it was the most important.

But Ellie wasn't Sarah.

Of course he wouldn't like his daughter to be unhappy, even if she was protected.

           "Sometimes..." he said very quietly, unable to stop. "Sometimes I think it's a good thing she's gone. It was pretty quick, and she doesn't have to survive in this horrible world. It's awful, isn't it ? "

           "No, it's normal. We always want the best for our children, and there's nothing good about our situation. But that doesn't mean we have to give up. Can you try to be nicer with Ellie ? More patient ? Please, if not for her, for me. For Sarah."

Continuing to stare at the fire, Joel nodded. He had never been able to deny Y/N anything, and he knew she was right. Either way, she had always made him softer. Tommy often made fun of him for this.

Gently, Y/N placed a kiss on his cheek, telling him that she loved him. He did his best not to cry.

He cried anyway, letting her rock him.

It had been years since he had cried, or had someone touch him, and now Y/N had returned.

From her cot, Ellie listened without moving.

She was a little miffed that Joel agreed to change because someone was asking him to, and not because it was the right thing to do. She was also a bit jealous that he was reuniting with someone he loved.

And at the same time, she could understand his pain. They had often argued, because he did not seem to understand that he was not the only one to have lost everything, and even he had actually lost more than some.

So Ellie closed her eyes, hoping that everything would be fine now, and that they would be more or less happy, even though they weren't really a family.

[lizardrosen]

Still Hast Been the Father of Good News

part one, part two

Hamlet’s wife is about to give birth, and he’s off playing games in Norway. He knew the due date and he still accepted the challenge. He could have refused, or insisted they save this for spring when he’ll have had a few months with his son first. The fact that a contract like this even can be ratified by law is absurd, in Claudius’s opinion, a holdover from some archaic tradition that used to hold great cultural significance but is simply not relevant to today’s world.

He could almost hope his brother gets himself killed by King Fortinbras and it would serve him right for abandoning his wife like this, but that would defeat the purpose of wishing he were here. So he just paces the waiting room and mutters prayers for his brother and his sister-in-law, and also prays that prayer is all it’s cracked up to be. He observes all the grandparents and husbands and older siblings and he takes frequent trips to the restroom because he can’t just sit there waiting.

He would be in the delivery room if Gertrude wanted him there, of course, but he’s more than a little relieved that Caroline is the one holding her hand and urging her to breathe. She’s been here before and will understand what she needs far better than Claudius does. Besides, Gertrude said it’s more than enough that he was available to drive her here and asked him to stay to see how it goes right before screaming with another contraction and finally being wheeled in. So of course he’s not leaving.

Even when she’s the most exhausted he’s ever seen her, Gertrude manages to be beautiful, hair disheveled across her pillow and sweat making her shine. “Look at him!” she says and he walks over to the bassinet by her side to examine his nephew.

Hamlet Jr. isn’t quite asleep and his little arms wave at Claudius’s hand. “I can tell already that he’s going to be charming and gracious.”

“Of course he will; he looks like his father, and just as much like you, maybe more.”

Claudius isn’t sure what to say to that. He doesn’t think that much about his looks, really. Is she flirting, or is this just a statement of fact, and what exactly does she want from him? “But he’s got your mouth, and the eyes may be darker, but they’re looking just as hard as you always do.”

Laertes has already been telling everyone he knows about his new baby sister, not caring if he’s already told them two or twenty times before. He’s as proud as if he made her himself, and now he has his new friend Hamlet to talk about too. He’s already had a five-month preview of an infant’s development so he knows what to expect and acts like the world’s most adorable expert.

According to Polonius, the fact that Hamlet is a prince is an afterthought if it even occurs to him at all. Good, thinks Claudius. Enough people in that boy’s life are going to see him as a future monarch first and a human being second or not at all, and Claudius only even knows a fraction of what that’s like, but it’s no way to grow up.

As time goes on, the two families stay close enough to practically be one, with everyone babysitting each other’s kids depending on who has a state function to attend. Claudius is further on the edges of this whole structure because he’s unattached so he can’t talk about marriage or children with the others. It’s not like he’s being excluded on purpose, though, he’s just quiet and used to being on the outside, and maybe he even prefers it this way.

It is one of the reasons he likes Hamlet the best out of the three kids that aren’t his but might as well be: Hamlet acts like someone who is used to being alone, who doesn’t always enjoy it but has come to expect it. Claudius recognizes that feeling, and understands how that kind of solitude is sometimes by choice and sometimes not. They can be quiet together and neither one will mind, but when one prince gets inquisitive the other one will attentively answer all the follow-up questions until they finally peter out and the two return to reading or playing in silence.

Polonius’s children, however, are rarely quiet. At any given moment at least one of them is singing or hollering or bickering about which game to play today. Claudius enjoys them, he just needs a break and an ibuprofen after an afternoon of looking after them. He learns Ophelia’s babbling little songs for her, and he teaches Laertes what he knows of naval history or staged fighting or whatever interests the older boy this week — and he always throws himself into it fully before something new grabs his attention. He’s reminded of a younger Claudius hitting the books back at law school.

All the kids love using Claudius as a jungle gym because he’s so tall and is strong enough to support two of them at once. His brother, bless him, gets out of breath so easily if he runs as fast as the kids, but he has the perfect voice for storytelling, and Polonius has the perfect lap for sitting on. Gertrude is the one they all run to with a scraped knee while Caroline helps them create anything from cakes to models of dinosaurs to comic books.

They get four years of this before the makeup of their orbit shifts again.

[slashyrogue]

Will doesn't know why he's here.

The teachers' conference had been postponed seven times in the past year, mostly because no one wanted to be stuck in Alaska listening to speakers telling them things they already knew.

Not even if they got paid.

He'd declined the last few years, mostly using the dogs as an excuse, but when Bev got sick just before the new dates changed to Christmas week she volunteered to watch his pack.

"Bev..."

"Go, Will," she said, coughing, "Go away from this sad house, get drunk, and maybe make a few friends out of your coworkers."

Will reluctantly agrees to go, despite being one of only four who said yes, and flied to Alaska with Gregory, Edgar, and Elisa all of which are in their late sixties to seventies and teach Shop, Gym, Math, and Home Economics while him being the lone science teacher made them all look at him oddly.

So now he's stuck, mostly alone, but in a very nice resort with people he has no desire to talk to.

Not a great Christmas week for him.

The second day had been a chore, long and boring the entire time, so now as he sat down by the fire he only hoped no one came to talk to him.

"Is this seat taken?"

Will looked up, ready to say yes, and blinked his cheeks turning red.

"I...um...no?"

The man that sat down beside him was dressed to the nines, his clothes so expensive looking that Will was sure he didn't belong here, and as he sipped from his mug Will was at a loss for words. He stared at him out of the corner of his eye, unable to stop, and wondered just where the most handsome man he'd ever seen had been hiding the last two days.

"Are you enjoying the conference?"

Will blinked. "What?"

The man smiled at him. "The conference," he repeated, his accent making Will's stomach flip, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Will blushed. "I...um..."

He sipped his mug, still eyeing Will, who then let out a long sigh.

"No, no, not at all," he said, laughing, "If I have to listen to one more old man tell me that 'kids these days' need nothing but a sharp paddle I think I might stab someone."

The man laughed. "Yes, I....I agree. I just had to run from another group of people lamenting the 'horrors of the internet' like progress is a monster under their beds."

Will sighed. "Finally, someone who doesn't think progress is a bad thing."

"No, not at all, I...I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself," the man said, holding out his hand for Will to take.

Will took his hand, the strength of his grip doing things to Will, and shook.

"Will Graham."

"Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"Doctor?" Will asked, "What...I mean...what do you teach?"

Hannibal smiled. "I am a guidance counselor. Yourself?"

Will blushed, pushing his glasses up his face. "Biology."

"We both help young people learn things about their bodies then, though I deal in their mind and feelings and you...tell them everything else."

Will smiled. "I guess," he said, "I...I still can't believe they made this near Christmas. Most people have things to do."

"And families to come home to," Hannibal finished, his smile fading.

Will frowned. "I didn't mean to change the subject or bring down the room. I just..."

"You didn't, Will, I assure you. I just...I suppose I lament at times not being able to use a family as an excuse."

"You don't..."

"My immediate family have long since passed, and I am unattached. Yourself?"

"Same," he said, "I guess we're just a couple of sad, single people."

"I wouldn't call myself sad," Hannibal said, sipping his mug, "Just...lonesome at times."

"Yeah."

They both looked at the fire.

"So...."

"Oh Hannibal, where are you?"

Hannibal froze.

"I...."

Will looked around and spotted a woman walking through the crowd. he quickly grabbed Hannibal's hand, pulling and the two of them ran for the stairs. He resisted the urge to laugh as they ran and went right to his room opening with his keycard. They ran inside, shutting it, and leaned against the door panting for breath.

They looked at each other, still breathing heavy, and before Will could even second guess himself, he kissed him. It was a messy kiss, years of not kissing at all making him rusty, but he grabbed Hannibal's tie pulling him toward the bed where they both fell back. Neither of them said a word as they pulled off clothes, and before long Will was stroking a stranger's cock, staring into crimson eyes, and groaning as Hannibal pulled back to take him into his mouth. He pulled his hair hard, making Hannibal groan, and came with a shout feeling like he'd run a marathon. Hannibal crawled closer, and Will reached for him, stroking fast, and they kissed again just as he came in Will's palm.

Both of them tried to catch their breaths after, staring into each other's eyes, and burst out laughing as they laid there.

"So," Will said, smiling, "That happened."

"Yes, it did."

"It was...."

"Amazing."

"Yeah," Will said, kissing him again, "It was pretty great."

Hannibal took Will's hand, licking his own mess from Will's palm, and Will sighed.

"Would you be averse to...doing it again?"

Will shook his head. "No?"

Hannibal kissed his cheek. "I'm glad to hear it. May I stay?"

"Stay," Will said, still smiling, "Stay."

Hannibal smiled, touching his cheek. "I will, though I think we need a shower. Lest we fell asleep messily."

Will nodded. "Ok."

The shower as fast, and somehow Will found himself on his knees sucking off a stranger even as Hannibal struggled to come a second time, and after Hannibal kissed him so much he was dizzy with it.

He collapsed first but Hannibal hugged him so tightly from behind he could hardly keep his eyes open.

"Breakfast?" he mumbled, "In the morning?"

"Any requests?"

Will sighed, his eyes heavy. "Other than you?"

Hannibal kissed his cheek. "I will surprise you."

Will woke up to Hannibal eating him out, and covered his mouth when he came, shouting out as his orgasm was ripped from him. He moaned as Hannibal rutted against him after, not thrusting inside but the friction was so good he almost felt like he was.

He sighed loudly after, smiling up at the ceiling, and Hannibal kissed his cheek.

"I suppose we are no longer bored now."

Will grinned at him. "No at all."

"What do you suppose we continue this for the duration of our stay? No strings, just..."

"Fun?"

"Yes."

He kissed him, touching his cheek. "Definitely yes."

"I think, perhaps, we're about to think differently about this conference."

Will laughed. "Very, very, differently. I think maybe Santa came...early...for us both."

Hannibal kissed him again. "I think so too, Will. I think so too."

Will looked into his eyes, heart skipping a beat.

"Stay? Just for another few hours?"

"We'll miss our conference meetings this morning."

"And?"

Hannibal pulled him close, and Will sighed laying his head on Hannibal's chest. "I think perhaps this a much better use of our time here."

"Me too," Will sighed, nuzzling his chest hair, "Me too.

[thebreakfastgenie]

Trick or treat!

Answering based on the rules from this post.

I'm going to share a full, short spirk fic I wrote this a few years ago but never posted. It's unedited, exactly how it was in 2018.

Kirk sat at the table in his stolen, Klingon-decorated quarters, mulling over the events of the day. It was easier than he expected, turning on the old charm. It had been so long he thought he might have forgotten how. But it worked, it put Dr. Taylor at ease, maybe even won her over to their cause. And maybe he’d made a friend, however short-lived their friendship had to be. Gillian Taylor was exactly the kind of person he used to go for back when he was unattached and adrift in space, smart, compassionate, outgoing, blonde. He’d always had a little bit of a thing for scientists. And even now… he hated to admit it, but there had been a fleeting moment where he’d been tempted. She was so vibrant, so gregarious, so present. It struck him that this woman from the wrong century was more accessible than his own husband. But as quickly as it had come he’d dismissed it. He was still married, even if he couldn’t wear his ring. Even if his husband wouldn’t speak his name. His relationship with Spock had been founded on loyalty first and he wouldn’t betray that trust, not now or ever, even if death technically had done them part.

He was startled from his thoughts by the chime of his door. “Come in,” he said. Leonard McCoy stepped into the room. “Is this a bad time?” “Humpback whales are being hunted to extinction as we speak, unknowingly taking mankind with them in a couple of centuries, but I suppose it’s as good as any. What’s on your mind, Bones?” “I’m more concerned with what’s on yours.” Jim rubbed a hand over his face. “Let’s cut the crap, Bones. It’s not either of our minds we’re concerned about.” “Hey, Spock wasn’t kidding about those colorful metaphors.” McCoy tried for a grin. Getting only a warning glance in response he dropped the attempt at joviality and sank into the chair across from Kirk. “He’ll remember, Jim.” Jim glanced at his friend. “You didn’t have so much faith in his memory before. Has something changed?” “No,” McCoy admitted, dropping his eyes so he wouldn’t have to meet his friend’s gaze. “Three months on Vulcan,” Jim raised his hand in a gesture of frustration. “And all he’s remembered is my name. And now he won’t even use it.” “He needs time, Jim. You have to be patient.” “I’ve been patient! How much more time does he need?” Jim looked McCoy in the eye. “I want your medical opinion, not the platitudes of a well-meaning friend trying to make me feel better.” McCoy sighed. “My medical opinion is I don’t know. With any case of memory loss the rate and degree of recovery is unpredictable at best. This is a unique case if I’ve ever seen one. The man was dead, Jim, we have no idea for how long, and he was reanimated and aged from infancy to adulthood by a unique form of energy that no one fully understands, and that’s setting aside any damage that may have been done by cramming his mind into an occupied human brain,” McCoy tapped his temple, “For that long and the rejoining process, which is so old and so rarely used no living Vulcan had ever performed it before. I can’t give you any answers, Jim. I can’t even ask the questions.” “I know that Bones, I’m sorry.” Kirk looked tired. “I’m just…” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m afraid I won’t get him back.” “You have him back, Jim. He’s up there right now working on the calculations that with any luck will get us out of this place.” “He’s not him, though.” Jim’s voice became even quieter. “He’s not my Spock.” His voice shook. “What if he never is? What if that part of him can’t come back?” Unconsciously Jim removed the rings from his breast pocket and turned them over in his hands. McCoy pointed to the rings. “You still carry those everywhere?” Jim nodded. “I’m afraid I’ll lose them but I’ve tried leaving them in my quarters and… it’s actually easier if I can just pat my pocket to reassure myself.” Jim stared down at the rings, as if transfixed. “You know you can’t start wearing it,” McCoy warned. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” Jim asked, his eyes snapping up to meet McCoy’s. “I know he has to remember on his own, but what if seeing me wearing mine was the trigger he needed to remind him?” “Jim…” Bones’s voice held an edge. “Besides, you said it yourself, we don’t really know anything about how his memory loss works. Maybe in this case just waiting for him to remember isn’t enough, he needs our help! Maybe…” “Jim,” Bones said, more gently this time. “It won’t do any good to tell him, unless you want him to memorize your relationship like a couple decades of Vulcan facts. If you want him to be the man you remember, you have to let him remember.” “I know,” Jim said sadly. “I just miss him. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” McCoy put a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “As long as you have to.” Jim nodded in agreement. “I just hope it isn’t too long.”

[dunkzillla]

Here We Go One More Time

Nigel McGuinness/Bryan Danielson

Been going crazy about not only Nigel being back but also Nigel/Bryan so I had to revisit it. Went back and watched their matches and this comes from that — set immediately after both Supercard of Honor 2023 and Unified 2006, flashback is time stamped!

Title: Here We Go One More Time

Pairings: Nigel McGuinness/Bryan Danielson

Ratings/Warnings: Mature, Language.

Summary: Bryan’s older now, they both are, his hair is longer and he’s got a beard. But he’s still wearing those stupid plaid button downs. Still vegetarian, or vegan, or whatever they’re calling it these days, according to Instagram. That’s still his American Dragon.

Word Count: 2,416

AO3

——————————————

— 31st March 2023 —

Nigel McGuinness knows what it feels like to lose a title. Knows what it’s like to fall short of being the best on the night, so he knows what Wheeler Yuta feels when he loses his Pure title to Shibata.

The kid refuses to shake Shibata’s hand and slinks away to the back, cradling his sore head. Nigel’s never wrestled Shibata, but he knows how that feels too, when your brain feels like it’s rattling around in your skull unattached to anything.

Once the show wraps up, Nigel catches up with everyone backstage he hadn’t managed to see before the show started. He’s glad to be back. WWE had been fun, great even, but Ring of Honor was, is, home. It’s where he feels at peace, and even if he can’t get in the ring anymore, it’s still where he wants to be.

He’s walking through the halls biting into an apple he’d nabbed from catering when he hears it. It’s a hushed conversation, hidden behind a bunch of production boxes. He could recognise that voice anywhere.

“I was stupid, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but I’m still proud of you. Not many men would call out Shibata like that.” Bryan’s voice is unusually soft. Well, unusually to Nigel. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of that tone of voice in a long time.

“You’ll get it back. You’ll be three time Pure champ. Whether that’s in a few months or years down the line. This isn’t the end Yuta. Losing isn’t the end.”

“That’s not—“

“What I said before, yeah, I know. I didn’t think I had anything else to teach you, but I was wrong. You might not need me to teach you moves, but there’s still a lot you need to learn mentally.”

Nigel shakes his head even though there’s no one around to see him. Losing isn’t the end, no, but Nigel remembers losing the Pure title, and how it was retired in Bryan’s hands. Bryan himself only had a day with it, he has to know how it feels having it taken away from you.

It’s good to see the Pure title back. The night Nigel lost it to Bryan, he’d taken Bryan out for a terrible kebab and wondered where he would go from that loss. And now here he is, back in Ring of Honor, having just called a Pure title match between a young kid tutored by the one and only American Dragon. His American Dragon.

— 12th August 2006 —

The bleeding has stopped, and Nigel’s head isn’t swimming as much. He’s got clothes on, and he’d managed to lace his trainers up, so that’s something. He hasn’t bothered to brush out the spikes in his hair, or even really clean the blood from himself. It’s the middle of the night in Liverpool. No one will care.

“Oi,” He shouts across the room. Bryan’s dressed too, talking animatedly to Colt about God knows what, but the minute he hears Nigel’s voice he looks over. Good. He doesn’t have anything against Colt, but moments like this, just after they’ve beaten seven bells out of each other in the ring — Bryan fucking coming away the victor, he’s title-less now — that Nigel feels the most possessive of the American Dragon. Bryan made him bleed, Bryan knocked him out so that the ref had to stop the match, Bryan took his title from him. He’s his. They belong to each other.

“I’m leaving, you coming?”

They’re not even rooming together. Bryan’s rooming with Colt, both of them coming up with some crazy scheme about maybe we should video the shit we do, and Nigel’s with Doug, but Bryan knows to follow. Wants to follow wherever Nigel goes. He’s good like that.

“Yeah, lemme just—“ Bryan spins around, looking for his jacket and bag before spotting it and pulling it on, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

Nigel busies himself with pulling a cigarette from the pack in his jeans pocket, letting Bryan get together before he’s striding out of the arena.

It’s late, nearly midnight, and the show’s been wound down for a while now so the streets are pretty empty. Bryan walks beside him, no doubt wanting to say something about his smoking habit but keeping his mouth shut because he knows what type of mood Nigel’s in.

“Where are we going?”

Bryan always talks about not trusting him. Bryan hits him in the ring like he wants Nigel to completely disappear, like he wants to finish him for good. Yet he follows without question whenever Nigel asks.

“I’m hungry, we’re getting something to eat.”

If it hadn’t been past last orders Nigel would have probably corralled Bryan into a pub and made him sink a couple of pints to loosen him up, even if he does say he’s T total. Get him all pliable and soft like he likes him. Instead, he’ll have to make do with whatever late night kebab shop is still open along the streets of Liverpool.

Nigel takes them into the first one he sees, and thankfully it’s got a few tables so that they can actually sit down to eat. It’s deserted, and Bryan looks up at the menu sceptically.

“Is everything cooked… together?”

Nigel hasn’t been in a kebab shop for a bit, any time he comes back to the UK it’s usually a short visit, and he tries to be good and eat the right food like Bryan — but not tonight. Not when he just lost his Pure title after almost a year.

“Probably. You could just ask for a salad if you’re gonna be a little prick.”

Bryan’s vegetarian, but he doesn’t like to eat any kind of dairy product or even really come into contact with the stuff. Nigel tries to be good, better than he used to be when he was at University and eating take out food every night, but he needs meat. Meat and cheese. He doesn’t know how Bryan lives.

“Shut up.” Bryan mumbles, as someone comes from the back to take their order.

“What can I get you boss?”

Ah, Nigel’s missed good old British customer service. He rattles off his kebab order, practically feeling the disgust from Bryan next to him before looking at him, waiting for his order. Bryan stares at the menu for another moment before sighing.

“The veggie burger please.”

“Chips?” The guy asks and Bryan frowns.

“Fries?”

“Yeah, chips mate, thanks.” Nigel says, handing over the money.

“I don’t want chips I want —“

“They’re the same thing, wanker. We call them chips over here. You won’t be getting crisps.”

“Crisps?”

“Shut up, sit down.” It’s as if Bryan’s never been to the UK before. He’s told him about chips versus crisps so many times now.

Nigel bullies Bryan over to one of the tables once he’s been given his change, taking their two cans of soda over with him. They’re diet, because life’s all about balance.

Bryan’s little flip phone starts buzzing uncontrollably. Word must have gotten out that he’d won, now the holder of the World and Pure title’s. Undisputed. Everyone texting him words of congratulations. They don’t know that it’s not going to be for long. Bryan’s not going to be walking around with two belts. They’re putting the Pure title on the shelf.

Nigel’s not angry. He’s grown up from being angry about title losses. Losses aren’t the end, you come back from them, fight another day and win again. It’s just. That was his Pure title. Three hundred and fifty plus days of his life he’s spent defending it, showing just about anyone who’ll listen as to why he’s the best. He’s sad. Sad that it’s over, sad that he doesn’t have the final laugh with the title.

“When are they taking it off you?”

Bryan seems confused by the question, confused even more by the burger that’s put in front of him and the mountain of chips — fries — it comes with.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not going to have the belt long, Dragon.”

“You’re not getting a rematch—“

“No one’s getting a match with it. Haven’t you heard? They’re retiring it.”

Bryan doesn’t look like he’s heard, no. He’s picking at his chips, looking down at them as he processes that information in his head. Nigel knows how he feels. The Pure title is special. He likes the rules that he can twist and twist until it’s his advantage, he likes that it’s different, that you can call yourself a different type of wrestler when you hold that belt. You’re a Pure wrestler. But at least Bryan gets to go down as the last champion. He’ll get his name up there on all the statistics. Last champion. Shortest reign, probably. Nigel won’t have his name on the statistics. He’s not the first or the last. He’s not the longest and he’s not shortest. He’s not the oldest and he’s not the youngest. He’s not anything. He’s just one guy who held the title once. Bryan’s going to outdo him, again.

“Oh.” Is all Bryan says, taking a tentative bite of his burger.

He’s — he’s Bryan. Handsome, clean shaven with a close buzz cut, always wearing some soft looking t-shirt or plaid button down. Nigel hates him. He hates that Bryan is so good. Hates that he’s always so happy. Hates that he wins and wins and gets everything. Nigel hates him but he’s his, they’re… theirs. Bryan followed him when he asked him to, even after everything they did to each other in the ring. Nigel will take him back to his hotel room, tell Doug to find Colt, and he’ll screw his Bryan into the mattress. He’ll take all his feelings out about losing the title, about Bryan beating him, about the amount of concussions he’s had and where he goes from here on Bryan. And then he’ll get up in the morning and get in the car and drive to the airport. He’ll keep pushing on, keep being beaten by Bryan. He doesn’t know how much longer he can go on, but he’ll go on.

“You’ll challenge me for the world title again?”

Bryan seems to have deemed the burger good enough to take a second bite out of, and his foot kicks Nigel’s under the table.

“Might do, don’t know if I’m next in line though.”

He’s barely touched his food. Just picking at it as he watches Bryan eat his.

“It was the ref's decision. Those losses don’t count.”

“Still lost me the belt.”

“You’re pretty high up on the list of challengers, I’d say.”

Bryan would say that. He wants Nigel in the ring any chance they can get. They’ve had four matches so far, their first being a tag match that Bryan’s team won. Then Bryan challenged for the Pure title and lost because Nigel kept Bryan out of the ring and won by count out. Nigel challenged for the World title and lost, and then tonight, Nigel lost again. He’s sure they’ll have many more matches, title and non title, but he’s not sure it will be as soon as Bryan’s hoping.

Nigel hates him but Bryan’s here, eating shitty kebab shop chips at midnight in rainy Liverpool. Bryan wants to take him on again, wants him to have another go for his title. Bryan’s got his foot against Nigel’s ankle even though there’s probably still some of Nigel’s blood on his hands.

There’s no one else Nigel would rather do this dance with than his American Dragon, Bryan Danielson.

— 31st March 2023 —

Nigel steps away from the private moment. He doesn’t need to hear anything else, he’s just a commentator, he doesn’t need to get inside intel to help him win anything, though the instinct is still there, buried deep inside of him.

He and Bryan have had many, many more matches since that night in Liverpool. They’d both been champions, both won and lost against each other, but then Bryan had gone onto bigger and better things and he had stayed stagnant, injury and illness holding him down until he went behind the commentary desk and got all the way to WWE. They’d been in the same company for a while but they never really crossed paths.

And now the Pure title is back and Bryan’s not extending his one day reign any longer, he’s making sure his protege cements his legacy. Wheeler Yuta is already on the statistics board, with the most amount of reigns. Bryan’s got the shortest. Nigel, just like back then, isn’t anywhere near it.

That’s okay, though. Nigel’s learnt to live with that. He’s got a hell of a lot of other stuff to be proud of.

There’s footsteps behind him, soft voices, but Nigel doesn’t turn around. Not until Bryan calls out to him.

“Oi,” He says, loud, and with the most terrible attempt at a British accent Nigel’s ever heard. He’s got a smirk on his face. They haven’t spoken, Nigel hadn’t bothered to tell him he was joining the company, figured either he’d have found out on his own and wouldn’t care or they’d have a conversation when he got here. Bryan’s older now, they both are, his hair is longer and he’s got a beard. But he’s still wearing those stupid plaid button downs. Still vegetarian, or vegan, or whatever they’re calling it these days, according to Instagram. That’s still his American Dragon.

They haven’t followed each other for a long time. Their paths have been separate for the better part of thirteen years, when Bryan left Nigel couldn’t follow, not in the way he wanted to, anyway.

“We’re leaving, are you coming?”

Wheeler’s next to him, holding the back of his neck. Bryan’s arm is around him, looking at Nigel expectantly. The way Nigel used to look at Bryan. He could follow him now. They’re in the same company. Bryan’s still wrestling but he’s got a group now, a young kid looking up at him, he’s building the next wave of wrestlers. He’s moulding Yuta into something akin to what Bryan was when they first met, just with all the veteran Bryan knowledge. If Nigel follows, he’ll be back in Bryan’s space, Bryan’s orbit, the one he was catapulted out of so long ago. If he follows, his story with Bryan will start again.

Nigel bites into his apple and shoves a hand in his pocket, stepping towards Bryan and Yuta.

Here they go again.

[insomniac-astronomer]

prompts 10 and 20 with natasha?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader: Hide and Seek

AAAAAHHHH YEEESSSS! I was having a terrible night but now I'M SO EXCITED! Thank you anon &lt;3

Prompts: "Don't fall." and "How'd you lose a shoe?"

Description: Reader and Natasha are forced into one of Tony's ridiculous parties. Superheroes playing hide and seek? Hm.

Gender: no pronouns used but reader is referred to as "Lady"

WARNINGS: none!

*not my gif* (i <3 sassy nat)

"But I'm tired!" You flop onto Natasha's bed dramatically.

"Yeah, so am I, but Tony won't let us live it down if we don't go." She is tying the belt of her kick-ass striped flare pants. And you get to hug her all night.

She grabs your arm. "C'mon," she literally drags you up and you groan.

Per usual, the two of you are the last to arrive.

"There they are!" Tony shouts. "Fashionably late. Again."

"You're lucky I'm here at all." You mutter under your breath.

"Lady Y/N, come see these wonderful candies!" Thor beckons you away from Natasha, of whom you were clinging onto very tightly.

Reluctantly, you unattach yourself from your girlfriend and stalk over to Thor, who is holding out a bowl of-

"Pixie sticks?" You give him a look. "Who gave you these?"

"Clint Barton." He smiles.

You turn and find Hawkeye. "Really? You have him sticks of sugar?"

"He's a god, probably won't affect him. Had to take them from my kids." Clint shrugs.

Well, if they're out. You take a red stick, rip it open, and tilt the whole thing in your mouth at once like it's a shot. You don't like alcohol. Sugar is the next best thing sometimes.

"I propose we play some games." Tony speaks up above everyone.

A few annoyed "ugh"s come from the Avengers, but this does not deter him.

"Hide and seek!" He flourishes his hands and takes a bow before sitting back down.

"Um, no." Clint smacks him with a drumstick.

"What is this game you speak of?" Thor asks.

"Everyone hides and one person has to try and find everyone." You explain. "It's a kids' game."

"And I am a kid at heart." Tony adds. "Team bonding, we're doing it."

"What's in it for us?" Natasha speaks up.

"How about you play the game and I won't tell FRIDAY to turn off your room's air conditioning?" Tony smirks.

Natasha rolls her eyes.

"Alright, fine." Steve says. "Let's just do it, then."

"Great!" Tony stands up. "You all go hide, I'll count to 100."

"Why do you get to count?" You grumble.

"Air conditioning," he whispers.

"Fine." You quickly flip him off.

"1," Tony suddenly shouts, scaring you. The group shares a few looks and shrugs before Thor is the first to walk away.

You cling back onto Natasha's arm and start to drag her away. She shakes you off.

"I'm not hiding with you."

"What? Why?" You give her puppy eyes.

She laughs. "Your loud breathing will give me away!"

"I don't breathe loud!" You are very offended.

"Sure you don't." She gives you a sly smile.

"Well, I don't want to hide with you anyway." You fold your arms and walk in the opposite direction

And you keep walking.

Down three very, very empty hallways. Why are there no hiding places in this entire building?!

Finally, you stumble into the kitchen. You suddenly remember that Wanda had gone on a cleaning spree yesterday and emptied two of the cabinets.

Perfect.

You are too far away to hear Tony counting anymore so you quickly crouch down and open the door.

"Hey!" Natasha whisper-shouts. You stare in shock. "This is my hiding place, go away!"

"This is the only place I could think of!" You whisper. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"Too bad, I got here first." Natasha flicks her hand against your arm and shuts the cabinet door.

Where are you supposed to go now?

"Mr. Stark has reached 100 and is actively seeking." FRIDAY announces.

Ah, shit. Okay. Any enclosed spaces around here?

Then, your eye catches the tiny space above the fridge. It's dark and no one would think to look up there.

You definitely very gracefully climb onto the countertop and push yourself onto the fridge. You swing your leg up to try and stay on but end up slipping back down.

Again, you jump and your leg stays in place this time, but your sandal is about to fall off. You shimmy the rest of the way up, desperately trying to hold onto the sandal with your foot. Just as you start to sit down, the sandal slips to the ground with a soft thud.

Natasha's cabinet opens slightly to see the commotion.

She lets out a surprised laugh. "Don't fall."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks for the confidence."

She closes the cabinet again and you wait in silence.

Only a few seconds later, you hear footsteps coming from down the hall. You definitely can't get the shoe in time.

Tony rounds the corner and immediately sees the shoe. But instead of looking up, he looks right at Natasha's cabinet.

"Haha, found you!" He triumphantly yells. "Lost a shoe," he kicks the shoe toward her.

"That's not mine." Natasha says smugly, absolutely meaning for you to hear that.

Tony does an evil laugh. "Y/N, I'm coming for you."

Natasha stands up against the counter as Tony starts searching the other cabinets. She makes eye contact with you and grins. You stick your tongue out.

"Where in hell-" Tony stops mid sentence, eyeing where Natasha had been looking. "There you are! Two down!"

He leaves the room. Natasha comes over to the fridge as you start to untangle your limbs so you can get down.

"I hate you." You mutter. "You're the worst."

"I know." She smirks. "How'd you lose a shoe?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." You jump down from the counter and trip.

"How many pixie sticks did you have?" Natasha laughs.

"Shut up!" You ram your shoulder into her arm but a smile is growing on your face.

💫

Once everyone was found, Tony picked the next counter. Well, you bribed him by saying you would pretend not to find him until last.

Before you close your eyes, you give Natasha an 'I'm gonna get you back' look. She raises her eyebrows like 'oh, really? try.'

You count to a hundred, skipping the sixties because the numbers were starting to loose meaning in your head.

Immediately after FRIDAY makes the announcement, you are on a mission. You start heading to Natasha's room first and find Bruce hiding behind a plant.

Natasha's room is a dud, but on your way to the living room you find Thor hiding in a pile of laundry.

The only person in the living room is Tony. He hid between the cushions, only his arc reactor's glow gave him away. He complained that you broke his agreement.

Steve, Bucky, and Rhodes were lamely making an attempt in the training room.

Wanda was in a chandelier over the stairs. You argued that it was an invalid spot because no everyone could fly. Tony disagreed and you continued.

Clint was in a vent. Obviously.

Vision was levitating behind a curtain. You argued against that, too.

And then you realized you found everyone except Natasha. You give yourself a little kick. You let her win.

You checked everywhere, right? Living room, hallways, workout room, her bedroom, your bedroom. . . .

You forgot the kitchen. Dammit. Of course.

You walk with a purpose to the kitchen and right over to her cabinet. Of course she would hide in the same spot to trick you. You open the door but it's empty. Then, you hear something fall to the ground behind you.

A shoe.

You look up and there she is. On the fridge.

You burst into laughter.

"You're right." She says as she starts climbing down. "This is a good spot if you don't drop your shoe."

"You literally gave me away!" You exclaim.

"That's a matter of opinion." She sassily leans up against the fridge.

"Nat!" You yell with a smile.

"Ready to go to sleep?" Natasha finally stops her teasing.

"Absolutely not!" You give her a challenging look. "I'm not done until I beat you."

Thanks for reading and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for my first request! Don't steal, not joking 👀

Buy me a coffee?

[sukunastoy]

I saw you post the picrew with College AU Sukuna and now I can’t stop thinking about him! I’d love to hear your headcanons about him! Or see a College AU fic with him 😍💗

OKAY I GOT IT FINISHED!! College AU Sukuna request from @yuujispinkhair

Of course he's going to be a jealous, asshole jock. Word Count: 1K+

First time ever writing a Headcanon so, I did my best. 😂 Hope you enjoy! ❤ CW: Language/implied NSFW, otherwise SFW.

Rest below the cut.

-Being childhood neighbors, you were familiar with Sukuna. You both used to play together as kids until middle school, where he just started to ignore you.

-Sukuna was cocky and arrogant all through middle school and into Highschool, and those who advanced through the years with him knew it very well, including you.

-It really sucked because you had developed a crush on him, having been so close together as kids, but now he was becoming kind of a dick head...

-He came from a wealthy family who gave him pretty much whatever he wanted so the word "no" was not something he ever dealt with, especially from girls he asked out, as they were always eager for the opportunity.

-Going into college was only to entertain the demand for attention and popularity as he never really cared about schooling otherwise, not even being that good at it to be honest. You couldn't even remember the amount of times he begged you to do his homework or help with some project he waited til last minute to complete.

-The only reason he successfully even got in was because he was good at sports and was given scholarships. Meanwhile you had to study your ass off and spend hours a day trying to get the best grades possible on every exam and homework assignment.

-No surprise that it was quite a shock to see him waltzing through campus like he earned his way in through hard work.

-So the first time he sought you out for homework in a couple of your shared classes, you denied cause, why should you?

-"Aw come on, I thought we were friends! You used to help me all the time!" "Um, well that's before you became a jock and ignored me for no reason." You'd shrug at him and walk away.

-Of course for one project the two of you got paired, and you grumbled inwardly, knowing you'd get stuck doing everything. And sure enough...

-A couple nights before the project was due, he hadn't done anything on it, and you sought him out at a frat party, where he was just having the time of his life.

-Not even caring, you called him out in the middle of it and embarrassed him by degrading him, and saying he was a horrible "friend" before leaving.

-He didn't care and laughed it off while continuing to party cause, he was popular, why should he care what you said?

-Staying in a private dorm rather than a sorority, you were slightly peeved when there was a knock at your door in the middle of the night.

-Assuming it was nothing, you ignored it til the knocking persisted and you finally answered, already knowing who it probably was.

-As you suspected, Sukuna was at your dorm door at 1 am, with his book back and stuff in his arms for the project. "Well that was fucking rude earlier." He scoffed while brushing past you into your dorm.

-Obviously he doesn't care about any protest, the guy doesn't understand "no." And he just drops all his stuff in the middle of the room and plops down to the floor. "Alright let's finish this dumb thing."

-"Already did, dick head. You think all of it could have been done in a night or two? Ugh you really are a spoiled, unattached to reality, idiot." Not that telling him any of this would mean anything to him.

-"Oh..cool then. Wanna fuck?" There's not much sense in his jock brain, and he was beyond dense. Homework all done? Already partied? Time to get laid then, right?? "Rather not have sex with an idiot." you rolled your eyes, trying to send him out of your dorm.

-Of course he protested, saying that he was super hot so it should mean something, plus he was good at sports, why couldn't you think that was admirable?

-Leaving him dumbfounded out in the hall with his stuff in hand, his mind was almost collapsing on itself. No one said 'no'.

-He'd definitely taunt you every chance he had since then. Saying things to embarrass you or annoy you because you ignored him. He is SUCH an attention seeker, and not having the admiration of every one was something he couldn't handle.

-He'd work out more, go harder in sports, hell, even started on a paired project BEFORE you. Was he really so butthurt that you turned him down he was trying to impress you now?

-Absolutely he was. Like a buck in the wild trying to impress a doe, he was doing his best to strut his stuff. Alas, you remained uninterested. Let him suffer a bit.

-One day, he really lost it when witnessing you out with another guy. It just about drove him crazy, as you laughed and looked so entertained. How was this guy better??

-Your guy friend suggested to go "on a date" with you, JUST to irritate Sukuna since he was being a jerk. It was a petty idea. You loved it.

-Naturally, Sukuna pretended he didn't notice, but he was so obviously jealous it was kind of adorable. He always happened to be where you and your "date" were, what a coincidence, and he always just invited himself into whatever you and your friend were doing.

-To add some angst, your "boyfriend" breaks up with you in a campus café when you were both certain Sukuna was lurking nearby.

-Both playing your roles properly, you remained "crying" at the table, and look who just so happened to be nearby.

-"What're crying for brat?" he asked in a non caring tone while sitting himself at the table casually as if he was openly invited to do so.

-Pretending you were so upset and heartbroken, he was feeling awkward and all he could think to do was pat your shoulder a little roughly like you were a teammate.

-"So...you're like...single now then?" He blatantly asked, not being one to understand proper emotional boundaries.

-Rolling your eyes you nodded. "Yes, idiot...I am."

-"Oh...cool then. So, NOW do you wanna fuck?" You crossed your arms and gave him a dull look at his words and he sighed irritatingly. "Okay, okay fine....but, what if I say we'll cuddle afterwards?"

-Needless to say, he was amazing at giving cuddles...

Hope you liked it!! ヾ(•ω•`)o

Please reblog when you like!

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 2 Finding Out (Family/Friends)

Prev 

AO3

@maribat-bdbwm

“Mari!” Adrien yells, running past Batman to sweep her up in a hug. Marinette’s face instantly heats up, but she buries herself into the hug. After all, it’s not every day she faces a supervillain determined to kill her with a dangerous weapon...without her suit, anyway.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Marinette reassures him, relishing in the comfort. A cleared throat makes her jump back and look at Batman who, despite clearing his throat and cutting off the most amazing hug ever, has no emotions on his face. Whatsoever. Cause that’s not intimidating or anything.

“The police will need your statement, Miss Dupain Cheng.” Batman says. Marinette nods, squeaking when Adrien reaches down and entwines his fingers with hers. Following Batman’s directions to the awaiting police, Marinette feels nerves flood her systerm as she sees the sheer number of officers on the other side of the door. Sucking in a deep breath, she feels Adrien squeeze her hand. Shooting him a thankful smile, Marinette uses her unattached hand to open the door and step out into the mess of personnel. A man with a mustache and square glasses steps forward immediately, his hand extended.

“Hello Miss Dupain Cheng. I’m Commissioner Jim Gordon. We were in communication with Batman while he was inside so we heard some of what happened. Would you be comfortable telling us what happened? We can get you checked over by paramedics first, if you want.” Commissioner Gordon says.

“Oh, no, no. I’m fine. I don’t-” She starts to say, but a gruff voice cuts her off.

“She should be examined immediately, Gordon. She may have inhaled smoke from the smoke bombs due to proximity. She also could have burns to her face or ears from Joker’s gun. He shot it and then proceeded to prod her with it.” Batman says, the last part of his ‘report’ slightly more gruff than the first. Was he…..worried about her? Marinette shakes that thought off almost immediately. Why would Batman be worried about her? Wait, was he really going to make her see the paramedics when all she wanted to do was talk to the officers so she could get back to the trip?

“I assure you, Monsieur Batman, Monsieur Gordon, I don’t need to see the paramedics. I’m a little shaky, but that’s all. I mean, I was held at gunpoint. I think shaky is appropriate, non?” Marinette asks, flashing the two a bright smile. Gordon raises an eyebrow and glances at Batman who shakes his head stiffly.

“She gets examined.” He says, leaving no room for questions as he pulls his grappling hook (?!?!) out and retreats to the rooftop.

“You heard the man. We can talk as you’re examined, if you’d prefer. I’m sure you just want to put this whole business behind you.” Commissioner Gordon says kindly. Marinette sighs in relief and nods, smiling again at the man. Hopefully this would be taken care of quickly. --- Bruce Wayne was slightly panicking, though he would never admit it. When reports of the Joker being spotted at the Gotham City Museum of Modern Art first rolled in, he assumed his biggest challenge would be keeping Jason from murdering the clown. He did not expect to see a small girl being held at gunpoint. A girl who looked like a strange mix between his mother, and someone else. But he couldn’t place his- of course. Memories flood his mind as he thinks back to the woman who was so clearly related to the small girl. Bridgette Le. A woman that he, at one time, thought he would be able to spend the rest of his life with. Until she left Gotham and cut off all contact between the two. Oh god. She wouldn’t….would she? --- “I don’t understand why that older paramedic looked like she’d seen a ghost.” Marinette says with a pout as she continues working on the embroidery for a jacket for Jagged. Design never sleeps.

“What d’ya mean?” Adrien asks from his nest of blankets on her bed. Marinette tries to focus on keeping her blush down. Apparently, the attack at the museum had scared Adrien more than her, though she imagined he was scared on her behalf. But she couldn’t quite understand why...nevertheless, he had become attached at her hip and hadn’t left her side since they got back to the hotel. Even though all she really wanted was a little alone time to talk to Tikki. Especially about the chance of the Miraculous Cure working here. Maybe if she was in the battle…

“Didn’t you notice? He was fine til he looked into my eyes and then he got super pale. He looked like he was going to say something, but Monsieur Gordon stopped him before he could.” Marinette recounts, remembering the way the paramedic had to switch out since his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I didn’t notice that. That’s weird. Anything else happen like that today?” Adrien asks, finally sitting up and giving her his full attention. Marinette pauses her stitching and purses her lips as she runs the days events back through her head. The paramedic. Batman. Joker. Arriving late to the museum. The cab ride. Being left at the hotel. Coffee-

“Well,” Marinette starts, furrowing her eyebrows as she tries to rationalize the man’s actions in addition to the actions of the paramedic. But something wasn’t adding up. “There was my cab ride to the museum.”

“What happened? Was someone creepy? I can fight them for you!” Adrien offers, a little too cheery. Marinette freezes as she studies his face, searching for something. Adrien had been off all day. More protective than he’d been in awhile. And the few times Lila had spoken, he had scowled at her instead of ignored her. Was he finally coming around to the idea that the high road would not work with Lila? Pushing those thoughts off for another time, Marinette shakes her head.

“No, no. Nothing like that. But as I was leaving, he called me Miss Wayne.” Marinette admits, not expecting Adrien’s uncontrollable laughter.

“He, you, oh my god!” He laughs, clutching his sides. Marinette’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as she sets the jacket down on the desk.

“What?” She asks, completely and totally frustrated with the situation. Adrien laughs for another minute before calming down, wiping tears from his eyes and shooting her a blinding smile. Not his model smile. An actual smile that warms her heart and her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Mari. It’s just, I think he was referring to the fact that you look like the typical kid Bruce Wayne adopts.” Adrien says and Marinette’s blood freezes.

“Did you say Bruce Wayne?” Marinette asks and Adrien nods, his previous mirth wiped from his face.

“Yeah, Mari, are you okay?” He asks. Marinette nods, then shakes her head, then groans and throws up her arms in frustration.

“I don’t know! I just- you remember how I told you I’m adopted?” She asks. Adrien nods, then stops. A look of mixed terror and awe flooding his face.

“Oh god, Mari. You never told me the name. Your birth father-”

“His name is Bruce Wayne. But there’s gotta be hundreds if not thousands of Bruce Waynes in the US right?” Marinette asks, even as her hope in that idea dwindles.

“The US? He’s confirmed from the US?” Adrien asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Yes. Adrien, what are you doing?” She asks, suddenly worried as she jumps onto the bed next to him, desperately trying to see his phone.

“I’m googling Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le as a combined search. Wayne is one of the most prominent figures in Gotham, all of his previous relationships have photographic evidence. Except for whoever the mother of his youngest is. But that’s probably because he wasn’t in the country at that time.” Adrien says, typing away furiously on his phone. Marinette’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement.

“Since when were you a master researcher?” She asks with a grin.

“Since one of my best friends found out she’s adopted and it could be the man who hosts the only palatable high society parties. Seriously. And they’d be much better if you were there and-holy shit. Your bio mom looks just like you!” Adrien exclaims, turning the phone to her. Marinette inhales deeply and thanks whatever power there is that she’s not in Paris right now. The emotions running over her at an indescribable speed...not all of them are positive. And they’re all overwhelming as she looks at a picture that very clearly shows her bio mom with Bruce Wayne. As in the Gotham Bruce Wayne. Not a different unknown Bruce Wayne across the country somewhere. Nope. A man who is apparently prominent enough that Monsieur Agreste makes his son go to the man’s parties.

“I don’t suppose she just had a type for men named Bruce Wayne?” Marinette says weakly. This was not what she expected. --- This was exactly what he expected. Looking at the birth records for one Marinette Le, where he’s noted as the father. Though why he wasn’t notified before the girl’s custody was signed over to Sabine Cheng, he’ll never understand. His jaw clenches as he continues reading, eyes scanning over Bridgette’s death certificate before glancing back at Marinette’s birth certificate. A daughter. He had a daughter. Another child that he would never be able to hold when they were small. Another child that grew up without him. Another child that he didn’t meet until they were already a person. Someone with their own experiences individual from his own, someone that may not even know he had found them. And that he wanted nothing more than to get to know someone who was brave enough to stand between the Joker and her friends. Someone who was determined not to let what should have been the most traumatic experience in her life be a set back. He had a daughter. And he wanted to meet her.

***

Next

Note, my headcannon is that the paramedic that panicked did so because he was one of the first responders the night that the Waynes were murdered. And while she looks a lot like her birth mom, Marinette also definitely has Martha Wayne’s eyes and the paramedic could NOT deal. Also, let me know if you want tagged!

Tag List: @jjmjjktth

[coraskeeper]

⇢ 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹 𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 (𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗸𝘀, 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲) 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵

↳𝗳𝘁: 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹, 𝗸𝗶𝗱, 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿, 𝗴𝗻! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

↳𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁-𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄, 𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗲𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗵??, 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀

↳𝘄𝗰: 𝟭.𝟱𝗸

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐄𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬

soul doesn’t even remember why he invited you over, he just made up some lame excuse to be close to you and- you fell for it. so uncool. he’s playing a video game on his bed next to you as you swipe through tiktok, coming across an odd video. the boy paid you little attention only glancing over at you maybe once or twice every few minutes. his ruby orbs full of confusion as you stuffed your finger inside of your mouth rubbing along your teeth, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

he just turns a blind eye to your antics at first, chalking it up to just one of those weird you things. 

he ignores you up until he feels you frantically crawl across the bed until you're leaning onto his shoulder, urging him to pause his game because what you had to do was way too important to wait.

“ you wanna do what? “

“ wanna touch your teeth, just this once “

he wants to say no but the way you're staring up at him with your bottom lip jutted out is just too much and he rolls his eyes before giving in to your whines.

it catches him off guard when you sit up and swing a thigh over his lap while tilting his head back to get a better view of his mouth.

his view of you on top of him was all too real, too heavenly and he was starting to lose him resolve quickly. your painted fingernail traced his bottom lip before prodding his mouth and glazing your finger across his sharp teeth.

his heart was in his ass and his pale skin felt like it was melting with how intimate this position was, accidentally letting out a deep groan when you squeezed his jaw to gain more access to the inside of his mouth.

“ your teeth are so pretty, soul “ you mumbled to him, an innocent smile gracing your pretty brown skin, “ so cool “.

you pulled your finger back from his mouth, a string of his saliva sticking to it before you shifted your position a little, souls hand flying to your waist to keep your hips in midair.

he knew you were about to make yourself right at home in his lap but he was so painfully hard that if you were to squat down just a little, you’d feel it.

though he was rather cool, he was about to lose his mind and he wanted out of whatever weird situation you’d put him in, “ are you done now? “

you pout, “ boo, you’re no fun soul “

you climb off of him and head to the bathroom to wash your hands, him frantically trying to readjust his hard on and hide it from you before you got back.

seriously, i'm not some teenage boy anymore yet i'm sitting here popping boners at the stupidest crap.. so uncool.

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝

he wasn’t even sure how he found himself in such a childish predicament.

you standing over him, all pretty and symmetrical, in an apron, worried eyes focused on his mouth as one of your hands were on the nape of his neck and the other hand two fingers pressing down lightly on his tongue.

then there was him, sweat starting to form under his bangs and heat creeping up his neck and ears, hands thrown haphazardly across his lap as he sat in the kitchen chair, hard.

you had decided to cook for him, liz, and patty today to thank them for saving your ass on a mission a few days ago.

kid had been crushing on you for quite some time, falling in love with how unique you were instantly. you were good at almost anything you put your mind to and he admired that about you.

so, as one does- he finds any little excuse to be in your presence.

patty and liz sat comfortably in their living room while kid offered to help you in the kitchen as you looked for him, it was very ungentlemanly of him to not help a lady in need.

while you were turned around cutting some vegetables for the salad, kid watched over your soup for you as you instructed.

when you asked him to taste it for you to make sure it had enough seasoning, you hadn’t thought he’d shove the whole spoon into his mouth without blowing first.

kid couldn’t even register what happened after he dropped the metal spoon against the floor, after letting out a loud pained gasp holding his mouth, he blinked and you were standing between his legs as he sat in a chair from his dining room table.

your face contorted in worry as you eye his tongue and bottom lip again, “ damn kid, i know you’re a shinigami and everything but you’ve gotta be careful “

he simply nodded, watching as you puckered your soft brown lips to blow on his bottom lip a little, it sent a shiver right up his spine and right back down to his nether regions.

he wants to just lean up and take your lips right now, take you right in the middle of the kitchen but- he must digress.

the last thing he’d want to do is turn the situation into something it wasn’t and make you uncomfortable, and there was no way your first kiss with him would be in his kitchen with your fingers shoved in his mouth. 

your soft fingers pushing down against him tongue a little, “ does this hurt? “, you look him in the eyes and his knees go weak.

he felt like a pervert, his mind giving him way more compromising images of you with your fingers roaming his mouth.

“ nuh uh “

your fingers coated in his spit as he turns even more red if possible, your thumb catching his bottom lip and he almost moans, “ how about here? “

“ im okay, thank you “

you give him a once over before leaving back with a sigh and heading over to the sink to wash your hands, “ be more careful “

“ i-i apologize “, though he’s lying right through his teeth.

he knows it’s wrong and he feels so dirty being strained against his slacks and boxers like this. kid doesn’t feel a bit sorry, contrary to his apology.

instead, he’s now contemplating how he should hurt himself next.

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫

if there was one thing black star loved to do with you, it was train.

you were an amazing fighter and he was honored to spar with you. over the course of the few years he’d known you, he’d fallen for you and your subtle charms. 

he loved when those pretty glowing orbs of yours whenever you stared at him with such determination as sweat dripped off your body.

you happened to be a little more aggressive today than usual, coming at him with more force than you should’ve but the great black star could handle it, right?

for a moment he let his guard down, eyes dragging over your worn out body, tanned skin glistening under the harsh beams of the sun.

thwack!

your foot connecting with his jaw sending him flying back onto the ground holding his hands over his mouth, your frantic screaming filling his ears.

“ oh my god, black star im sorry, are you- OH GOD YOU'RE BLEEDING! “, he stared up at you blankly as you tugged his upper half towards you kneeling over his lap.

he hadn’t even felt the pain to be honest and a little blood never hurt him, but having you over him in such a compromising position had him stuck. his piercing blue eyes trained over your sweaty face.

one of your arm’s slung across his shoulders, “ open, let me see “

he hadn’t even noticed you grab a stray water bottle to rinse your hands before you stuck two of your fingers in his mouth, examining his swollen tongue. his stomach churning and his face turning red.

“ im sorry, i shouldn't have kicked you so hard “, your voice is soft and soothing, but he didn’t even hear you.

shifting to get a better view of the inside of his mouth, he could say he was containing himself pretty well until you connected your hips to his lower stomach and this became too much for him to handle.

the stimulation was more than what he agreed to when he let you claim your spot over his thighs with your small fingers caressing his tongue.

his hands flying up to grip your hips with a groan, one you thought was because of the pain you caused him from the kick, when in reality- it was because he popped a stiff in his sweats.

his hard on standing at attention right under you, he was so tempted to just slide your hips down right over him, have you take responsibility for your actions.

“ you didn’t swallow any blood did you? “, looking down at his now half lidded eyes with worry, him giving you an airy groan against your fingers in response.

pulling you hand back from his mouth, your thumb softly swiping across his bottom lip to collect some of the blood and drool left.

your hips grinding against him in a sensual way as you looked at the bruise left on his chin, this was so dirty but he was loving every bit of it. almost cumming in his pants like a 13 year old boy.

“ maybe i should take you to the nurse? “, you unattached yourself from him grabbing his empty water bottle off the ground walking ahead.

he sat there dejected in a cold sweat, what the literal fuck .

[mostlikelytofangirl]

It disappoints me that so many people think that 'spouse and kids' is the only way to have a happy ending. I think that a lot of characters are lonely and broken post-MDZS-canon but that their happiness is unlikely to come in the form of 'spouse and kids'. With everything that's happened, and with so many things finally /over/, they have a chance for newer and better things. Why seek out what tradition tells you to when you have already lost so much? A part of healing is learning to make decisions that make you happy, not imitating your forebears.

More specifically, I think finding a political match would make NHS and JC specifically miserable. NHS wouldn't have enough room in his life for his passions and his newly acquired family, and he'd end up neglecting one or the other. Jiang Cheng clearly does not want a marriage (I think this is mostly explored in various extras), and having a child could make Jin Ling feel replaced... Also LXC is a sect leader who is probably gay or a-spec or otherwise uninterested in getting himself a wife, so I don't think A political match would make him very happy (dude has been legally unattached for decades now). I think JC and LXC would need to come to grips with their parent trauma and find some sense of peace BEFORE they could have 'spouse and kids'.

Also, I think the idea of the Juniors having to marry and procreate is particularly tragic.

But yeah... I don't think the Single and Alive characters can't have marriage and kids, or that that would never make them happy, but I think it's worth considering that they can be happy without those things. I wish for them to each be happy in their own ways.

Ahhh I'm rambling. V tired not sure where I'm going. Sorry if it's too long or doesn't make sense ^u^

- Regular Anon

It makes all the sense tbh!

I absolutely agree that not everyone is suited for Marriage with Children life and not wanting it is a perfect valid choice (as I mentioned in a previous reply about LQR), and in the case of these characters, I too think that they would have WAY too much to deal with emotionally and mentally post-canon to consider a marriage that isn't an obligation.

NHS would most probably dedicate to his thing, being a patron of arts and spending time with his birds, the responsibility of becoming Chief Cultivator would be more than enough. JC would keep a closer eye than ever on JL now that he is his last relative. LXC... dude has a shitton of processing to do.

And even before all the fuckery, none of them gave ever any indication of being seriously interested in wife and kids. JC had that ridiculous list of his, but as far as I've seen it wasn't a serious thing. In fact, I think he purposedly (if subconsciously) made it so ludicrous bc it was never meant to be met.

There's also an entire discussion to be made about media in general portraying the Perfect Happy Ending(tm) as being married and having kids, like it's the ultimate way of fulfilment. It's... quite honestly a pet peeve of my aroace ass to see shows or movies when, by the end of the adventure, everybody has married between their team of found family (sometimes without even making sense) and having kids and everything is perfect. I only accept that in fanfic lol.

It's still inevitable that bachelor leaders in mdzs would be pressured into marrying well and having descendants to inherit the sect, but in the particular case of these three guys, there are much more important issues for them to deal with before that. If ever.