#I get you’re trying to cope but I’m so angry they’re doing this

[euthymiya]

exes to lovers ; resolved (and poorly written) angst ; breaking up and getting back together ; emotionally stunted modern boyfriend sukuna and his self discovery or something like that idk

“Hey.”

You pause. Mid step, actually. You pause for long enough with your foot halfway over the concrete that you stumble for just a moment and then catch yourself.

“What are you doing here?” You squint.

Sukuna doesn’t like that look on your face. Not the look of anger or even mild distaste—that’s normal. A given, in fact. He has that effect on people and he’s well aware of it, too. It’s the look of shock that really weighs him down, pressing on his lungs enough that he has to cough slightly just to work out that hitch in his throat.

(He thinks, in a moment of stark, cold clarity, that you’re only shocked that he’s trying because he never tries. What does it feel like, he wonders, to feel love that doesn’t even try?

He’s always been privileged enough in this relationship to never have to know.)

He forces himself to grunt out, “Uh…just wanted to talk. ‘N stuff.”

“You wanted to talk,” you repeat. You mouth the words to yourself quietly once more, tasting them on your tongue again to be sure you got them right.

“…Yes….yeah,” he nods. It’s firmer the second time, like he really, really means it. You have to wonder to yourself why he never means it when you need him too.

The break up happens like clockwork, something like two weeks and four days ago (who’s counting, though? Not him). You storm out through salty tears and flailing arms and he walks you out through tired, rolling eyes and an impatiently tapping foot.

Maybe I should just leave, you say.

Then leave, he says back. (He remembers it so clearly, too. His mind is cruel like that—it plays his mistakes so vividly he wonders if some part of him is a masochistic freak).

I’m not coming back this time, Sukuna. I’ve had enough.

Well, that makes two of us! Don’t fuckin’ come crawling back then.

It ends like that. His slammed door. Your muffled sob. His irritated grunt. Your pounding footsteps as you run. His shrug of indifference as he convinces himself he doesn’t care. Your radio silence. His slow, bleeding heart that he staples shut and ignores.

That was two weeks and four days ago. (He’s counting, he realizes. He’s never counted before).

“I’m busy.”

You cut him off from his thoughts with the words plainly. They’re so bland yet blunt, he almost does a double take. It’s just so unlike you, so different and unnatural and weird. Faintly, he’s aware he deserves it. Acutely, he hates that things are changing.

“Yeah?” He huffs, staring at his feet as he shuffles on them. (He feels so weak. So seen. So scrutinized under your gaze. Why is it so hard to just get the words out like he rehearsed in his head?) “It’s just gonna take a moment.”

“And I suppose I owe a moment?” You raise a brow.

“I didn’t say that,” he clicks his teeth.

Agitation is second nature for him. It always has been. It’s easier that way, simpler to just be angry and done with it. People leave him alone more. Things are easier to process. He makes his way through life with downturned lips and an easy glare—things work out well enough that he’s never had to question it.

(Some time ago, you made some passing comment about his childhood developing his coping mechanisms or some bullshit like that. He rolled his eyes and insisted he didn’t need to be psychoanalyzed. Now, he thinks maybe he does need it—some logical explanation as to why he self destructs and destructs and destructs until it’s not self destruction anymore. Somehow, you get caught in the crossfire, too.)

You’re tired. Wary. He slumps his hands into his pocket as he clears his throat and mumbles out, “I miss you.”

It’s progress. That much, even you’re aware of because there’s a moment where you pause and blink. Almost instantly, your eyes soften. Almost as instantly again, you mask it with indifference as best as you can.

He sees through your resolve like it’s made of glass.

“You miss me?” You scoff incredulously. “And what, it took you two weeks to realize that?”

“Two weeks and four days,” he corrects with a scowl.

“Well, that really helps,” you say dryly, giving him a sarcastic smile. “What brought this on?”

“Look,” he pinches his nose, trying to get the words right. He just needs to get something right. For once. When it really matters this time, he’d really just like to get things right. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know how being in love and shit works so I’m trying my best here.”

“The first step would be to actually love someone,” you say blandly. “That might help.”

“Just because I’m not good at loving you, doesn’t mean I don’t,” he says back, frustratedly running a hand through his hair.

You shake your head, scoffing as you retort, “No, Sukuna. You can’t be bad at things you don’t even try to do. You can’t mess up and be bad at something you never even did.”

“I never loved you?” He asks incredulously, lips curling in a snarl.

(He’s hurt, you know that. Sukuna is so good at masking hurt with anger and indifference, some part of you always aches for him. For that part of him that learned to do that. That part of him that never knew anything outside of shoving aside his feelings.

It takes you a long time to start aching for yourself. To realize that every time he shoves down his feelings, you shove down yours, too.)

“I didn’t say that,” you shake your head, sighing tiredly.

“You don’t make any fuckin’ sense.”

“You can still love someone without loving them,” you shake your head, and none of it makes any sense. Not to him. Not to that part of him that’s stubborn and hardened and so disturbingly weak.

If he wasn’t so weak, he’d have no problem putting aside his stupid pride and be what you need.

“Now you’re just saying words,” he grumbles.

“I love you right now,” you spit out, “But I’m not loving you. I’m not picking up your socks or texting you good morning or asking about your day or holding your hand or god forbid hugging you once or twice, am I? There’s a difference.”

There is a difference. He knows it, too. Because it’s the difference between you and him.

You pick up his socks when he leaves them lying around. He doesn’t wash the mug you leave in the sink when you’re in a rush. You text him good morning as soon as your alarm goes off. He doesn’t text you when he’s awake so you know he thinks of you as soon as his day starts. You pester him about his nephew and his life. He doesn’t ask how work was or if that friend of yours was still being annoying. You latch onto his hand every chance you get. He doesn’t wrap an arm around your waist and pull you close. You scatter soft pecks along his jaw when it’s clenched from a long day. He doesn’t press a kiss to your cheek when life gets hard.

Yeah, he loves you. But you spend your time loving him.

It’s different. He knows it now. Maybe, if he’d cared enough to learn, he’d know it before. When you needed it. When you needed him.

Some fragile part of him, despite it all, still has hope that you still need him. Want him. Choose him.

Slowly, carefully, he walks up to where you stand. One hand cups your cheek and one hand finds your waist to pull you close. Your breath hitches and you stiffen. You don’t pull away, though—there’s a good sign in that.

“I love you too,” he says quietly. There’s a kiss to your forehead. He looks so unsure of what he’s doing, so unbelievably confused and lost. But not uncomfortable. It’s a start. “I’ll act like it more, okay? So just take back the break up and come back.”

“That’s not how it works, idiot” You ask through watery eyes, rolling them exasperatedly.

He rests his chin over your head, tightening his hold on you. “It’s how it works now. Take it back.”

“Why, so I can be sad over the same things again?”

“No,” he clicks his teeth. His hand cups the back of your head, tilting it to look at him as he grunts out, “I’m gonna fix this. So just take it back.”

He trying. You know it better than he does—and it’s not exactly good, but it’s at least better. Something about it is raw enough that your heart finally feels like it has a place next to his. That it’s not just there, alone and out of place.

You think your friends might call you stupid. Your coworkers might roll their eyes. Everyone might sigh in disbelief.

But you love Sukuna. Can’t help but keep loving him. Can’t help but look into his eyes and see the way he battles with himself not to hide the hope so you know he’s trying.

So, even if you maybe shouldn’t, even if it makes you stupid and weak and helplessly foolish, you whisper, “Fine. I take it back. But next time, I won’t.”

“Oi,” he huffs, “There’s no next time anymore.”

I won’t let there be—you hear it underneath his words. It’s the fine print, you think.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, propping his chin on your head as he holds you close. Closer than he ever has. Closer than he thinks he deserves, but takes anyway. “Cause I’m gonna love the fuck out of you so you quit cryin’ about it. Be ready.”

“Oh, I’m very ready,” you snort. It’s watery, a touch breathless and maybe even naive.

But you love him, and you just want him to love you too.

[revelboo]

Oh poor reader. I guess technically they did plan to tinker with lazerbeak before coming to a very startling realization it wasn't a toy. And not great under pressure? I imagine this is probably the most pressure they've ever had in their lives.

They’re not coping well

Son Of a Gun Pt 2

Earthspark Soundwave x Reader

• Keeping up a constant annoyed rumbling, as the human draped over his shoulder keeps wiggling to try and get free from the extension cords he’d tied them up in, he barely resists the urge to swat you. And that’s only because Lazerbeak is sitting on you presumably to keep you from squirming your way to a fall and a broken neck. A pet. If Lazerbeak thinks he’s going to help him take care of this infuriating organic, he’s wrong. Wants no part of it or humans. Aware of Lazerbeak tipping his head toward his unwanted passenger. “I’d stop fidgeting before the boss loses his patience,” the cassette mutters, voice pitched low but not nearly low enough.

• Glaring up at Lazerbeak, you wonder if you can gnaw through the electrical cords. “I’m not a pet,” you hiss, wrists raw and hurting from where you keep trying to get free. Trying to figure out exactly what you’d done to deserve this. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t know big bird was an alien not a toy. And there’s no telling what they actually plan to do with you. Experiment on you? Torture you?

• “You’re alive,” Lazerbeak counters, nipping your ear to make you yelp. “Be appreciative.” Venting tiredly, Soundwave considers just accidentally dropping you. Problem solved even if Lazerbeak will sulk about it. “Stop bickering,” Soundwave growls and they both fall silent as he turns his head to glare at them. Doesn’t need this drama. Trying to keep the Decepticon movement together while Starscream works toward his own goals and now Shockwave is back and has his own agenda. Without Megatron it’s all falling apart and just thinking about that traitor makes him want to destroy something. That had been because of humans, too. One of those little things had swayed him to their side. Weakened him somehow, corrupted him.

• Big and scary snarls under his breath and you shudder, skin prickling. No longer trying to get away, because that one? You’re almost positive he’d gladly murder you if not for big bird. Making you wonder if the smaller Cybertronian is protecting you and why. Deciding to bide your time. The angry one can’t watch you all the time, you just need to wait until an opportunity presents itself. And then run like hell.

• Entering the old warehouse he’d claimed as a temporary base of operations, he reaches up to grab the human. And resists the urge to just drop you no matter how much petty pleasure it would give him, instead bending and setting you on the ground and stalking away to check if there were any communications while he was gone. Standing so he can watch Lazerbeak wing his way to where you’re squirming to get loose again. Watching as Frenzy joins him, confused about the human. Because no good is going to come of keeping you. And the first time you try to harm his cassettes or upset them, he’s going to delight in getting rid of you. Permanently.

Previous

Next

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

hiiii! Can I request all mercs w/ somebody who doesn’t talk due to self consciousness, but to an extreme? Like smbody who only says a few words a month and talks rly quiet.

if you need to choose specific mercs, either medic, sniper, or Engi <3

/p

(Some) TF2 Mercs and a semi silent S/O

Warning: Medic. Just Medic in general honestly.

—————————-

Engineer:

- To be honest, he has no idea how to cope with this at first and he’s rather thrilled to meet somebody like this. Engineer talks people’s ears off when they’re willing to listen and you’re no exception. Your silence makes his flood gates of pointless information open up and one could easily mistake him for Scout in this moment.

- Uhhh… Why aren’t you responding to his theory on black holes? Eh, who cares. He stops talking after a while and you watch him scribble calculations on a small sticky note mindlessly. He doesn’t seem too offended by it. He’s more than happy to sit in somebody’s presence quietly all night.

- Engineer starts to notice after a while that you just.. RARELY talk at all. Not that it bugs him much, but he starts to suspect some sort of trauma disorder.. Or something along those lines. His mind is going crazy with possibilities as to why but ultimately never asks out of worry he’ll erode something you left behind in the past.

- Prolonged and completely dead silent eye contact is rather easy for you with him. Even if this doesn’t naturally come easily. You can’t make out any eyes behind those dark goggles of his. Oddly comforting.

- You swore you caught a smug smile creep up on his face a bit when you finally do say something. As if he was thinking ‘AHA! I knew my charisma would pay off eventually.�� This gotcha moment for him makes his ego massively inflate. This is Engineer. What do you expect? He knows he’s smart, and always plays his cards right. Manipulative bastard.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Notices you’re starting to hang out with him more in a window he likes to camp at. He properly identified you as a fellow introvert from the start. Your mutism is noted, your presence is noted.. and rudely fucking ignored.

- Sniper doesn’t typically find anybody too interesting. Yes, even those who are quiet. He’s not a people person by any means, and only feels intrigue rarely. I guess you were that rare person evidently. He never even looks your way even ONCE as you sit there with him, but today was different. You saw his attention divert momentarily.

- “At least Y/N doesn’t fuckin’ talk my ears off like a bloody nonce trying to proclaim his innocence to a brick wall. You wanna know who drives me the LEAST insane in this bin? People like them. People who don’t talk their arses off and instead focus on a clean shot. Focus on the bloody job.”

- Next, you find an extra cup of coffee on the table in the nest that morning. It’s clearly not meant for him and you’re the only person who sits with him. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick it up.

- Begins to become slightly irritated when you break routine and don’t show up. Starts grumpily asking around for you and you notice this quite quickly. Dude has completely let his emotions clear to you and he’s oblivious to it. The reason you were absent that day is because you needed extra bed rest. (Existence is tiring.)

- You wake up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed reading a fucking newspaper. Yes, i’m not even joking. He’s so angry at you for not showing up that he decided to show up for you.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- Medic doesn’t.. Process empathy/compassion like most people do. I’ve alluded to this before. He is very, very bad with emotions. For some reason your silence bugs him in a certain way. It worries him slightly, and he REALLY doesn’t like it. Especially since he can’t exactly ask the cause of it. He wouldn’t get a clear response back. Or just get shrugged off and assured it was nothing.

- You sit at the opposite side of his desk and hang out with him every night. Your sleep schedule had been recently fucked. Medic doesn’t even try to tell you to go to bed or school you on a night’s rest like he would everyone else. Instead when he’s not writing, he taps his pencil on the desk and stares at you… menacingly. Is he judging you?! He narrows his eyes. He’s definitely judging you. He has to be. Right?

- Indirect and awkward staring contest for a fucking hour. You begin to grow nervous because it’s like he’s trying to fucking beam thoughts directly into your head telepathically. It looks like he’s trying to use the fucking force to choke you. What the hell is going on through his head? Was he thinking about gutting you like he’s expressed for pretty much everyone else?!

- Stops staring to get up and use his coffee machine. Comes back and continues staring. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??!?!

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 2

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

Prev - Next

CH.2

"Don’t get me wrong, I stand in solidarity with all assortments of criminals, felons, and anyone who sticks it to the man, but damn do I hate being the man who gets stuck."

"This is for your own good."

"You're not the first kidnapper to tell me that.”

“...We’ll touch on that later. How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’ve been kidnapped by some delusional maniac.”

“...I meant physically. How are you handling your stitches?”

“They’re slightly better than the last set of shady back alley stitches I got. I thought you said you weren’t a medical doctor?”

“My fields of study are wide and varied, of course I’ve covered some basic medical topics.”

*Ford tosses a book titled ‘Battlefield Medicine and Emergency Blood Transfusions For Dummies’ into a drawer and closes it*

“Where are we, anyways?”

“We’re still in Gravity Falls, but in my research facility in the woods; right now we’re in my below-ground level lab. You’re in one of the containment cells I use for cryptids, monsters, and anomalies.”

“So, what, you're some kinda mad scientist? Are you gonna do some depraved experiments on me?”

“No, you’re staying there until you heal, and you admit you’re lying.”

“Lying about what, specifically? It’s a long list.”

“Lying about not knowing who I am. You’re only doing this so you can pretend you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That does sound like something I’d do. Did I sell you something that blew up or gave you a rash?”

“What-? No! You know what you did. Stop playing this ‘Not what he seems’ card, Stanley-.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“It’s your name.”

“Is it?”

“...What do you think your name is?”

“Stan.”

“And...?”

“And what?”

“Your surname. What's your surname?”

“Malone.”

“That’s your fake name this time? Stanley Malone?”

“Just Stan. I guess Stan might be short for Stanley? I don't think too hard about it.”

“It is short for Stanley. It can only be short for Stanley or Stanford and the latters already taken.”

“My ex used to joke around that my name must be Staniel... Heh, Rick you asshole.”

“Malone- Mr. Mystery, or whatever fake identity you’re using this time, it isn’t going to work on me. You’re a liar, Stanley Pines. And you’re staying in that cell until you admit it.”

“Ok, I’m a liar. Now let me out.”

“...No.”

---

“Last year Ma tried to call me and update me on whatever antics you were pulling at the time. I always hung up before she could try to get me invested. Is that what this is about? Are you angry I didn’t bail you out of whatever trouble you were in?”

“Last year’s a blur, PhD. But there’s nothing I did that a second mad scientist could have possibly helped me with.”

“I’m not a- second?”

“Sure you’re not a mad scientist, sure. You just have an evil basement sub-lab in the middle of some creepy woods. And you conveniently already had a prison cell with a one-way forcefield ready. And there’s a jar with eyeballs in it on your counter. A normal, sane scientist has all of these things.”

“Don’t patronize me, Stanley. I told you my specialty is anomalies. Of course I’d have a containment unit for anything human sized or greater.”

“And would a not-mad scientist miss their brother so much they go around knocking out and kidnapping the first person who looks like him?”

“I did not miss you-.”

“What happened to him, anyways? Did he die or something and this is how you're coping?”

“That- that isn’t funny Stanley!”

“And you’re a barrel of laughs yourself.”

*Ford gets up and approaches the cell, before reaching into his trench coat and pulling something out to show him*

“I don’t hate you, if that’s why you’re pulling this stunt. I still have this. I’m still mad, I haven’t forgiven you, but I never hated you.”

“Gee that’d be such a nice sentiment if I knew what the hell you’re talking about, and what that picture’s supposed to be.”

“It’s us when we were children.”

“Huh. Guess you do have an identical twin.”

“And that boat is the Stan O’War, we found it as boys and tried to fix it up. You always talked about sailing the world one day, and dragging me with you.”

“No thanks. I hate the ocean.”

“... What?”

“The ocean creeps me out, Doc. Really, any big enough body of water. They swallow you up, and you disappear. I wouldn’t sail the ocean, and I wouldn’t take some maniac like you with me.”

“... You’re not lying.”

“About not liking the ocean, or you being crazy as fuck? Because both are 100% no bullsh-”

“You… Truly don’t remember, you’ve lost your memory. Stanley, you have amnesia.”

To be continued...

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Hey, can you explain to me like I’m 12 what Vivzie did irl? I’ve seen a lot of allegations and refutations to said allegations that make me confused as to what is actually happening or what ppl are angry at since I’m not really in either hh or helluva boss fandoms? Sorry if this is weird or annoying and feel free not to answer if you don’t want to

Hello! I put a lot of things vivzie has done in my critical posts so you can look at my long character post analysis things if you want more in depth things, but let me try to make this as digestible as possible. And of course I can’t list everything theres way too much but I’ll do what I can.

1. Defended her story board artist (Raph) with a rape fetish who uses Angel Dust to fuel said rape fetish. If you do not believe me (anyone reading this) Raph also made a fan animation to the song Valentino which was ORIGINALLY a somg about Vox being abused as well as Angel. Raph removed the aspect of Vox being abused and changed it to where Vox jerks off to Angel getting raped. This is still the same person Vivzie actively considers a friend a wonderful employee. And before anyone says it. No. “They’re coping” isn’t an excuse.

2. Vivzie retweets Angel x Valentino fanart

3. Vivzie was discovered to have a public YouTube playlist labeled “favorites” that included videos that involved women being sexually assaulted. Whether these were skits or real, I dont care and its disgusting either way.

4. Drew a Hitler “Sausage Party” OC. This was a while ago but worth mentioning

5. Does not pay her employees fairly.

6. Shit talks other indie artists and show runners constantly.

7. Demonising “voodoo” (vodou) by making it a “scary evil” magic Alastor used and then tried to excuse it by saying Alastor is black.

There’s much more competent people with screenshots and such on here if you want to look these up for more information! Id suggest staying out and away from hh/hb if possible so seems like you’re doing well. Hopefully this helps!

[batmanschmatman]

It’s interesting to me to see how many people have been saying they feel like [character’s] death was too sudden or too early, and while I agree from a writing standpoint we didn’t exactly have a lot of time with him and they COULD have framed the show differently to give us more, I also think it’s sort of The Point that his death is sudden and kind of out of nowhere.

The air war was incredibly fucking brutal. I’m not saying it was more or less so than what the BOB or TP guys went through because they’re all awful, but it’s a well accepted part of the WWII experience that anything to do with flying planes might have seemed glamorous and cool but was actually terrifying and had a sort of uniquely horrible flavor to it when it came to facing the death of your friends.

(And this isn’t even getting into the stuff happening on the ground when cities became viable targets, but that’s for a different post.)

When Hoobler dies, the guys are there, they see it happen, they can try to help him, and then they know after a point that he’s dying. They can sit with the body afterward and take his stuff to send back to his family. Even in the more fast paced deaths like Rob Oswalt, Sledge and the others can look at his body and have a moment - however brief! - to say goodbye. There’s often no mystery of what happened, you’ve seen the wounds and know they’re dead. And you also HAVE to push it down because you’re being shot at and need to keep yourself alive. 

All of that is real important in the grief/mourning process. Guys in the 100th usually didn’t have that unless someone on your bomber died. You’d go up with your friends, you’d see their planes get hit, there’s nothing you can do besides watch for chutes and hope they survive to be taken prisoner. And then you come back, and your friends are gone, there’s no body to bury or sit with or touch. Their stuff is all still in the barracks like nothing happened. Sometimes you’re not even immediately sure if they are dead or not! You don’t know who those chutes belonged to, or if they made it safely to the ground instead of dying on impact or immediately being caught by the Germans and executed. But your friends are gone and you were powerless to do anything to help them.

And then you get to do it all over again knowing it’s going to happen to other friends or to you and there’s basically nothing you can do about it. How do you cope with that? What does it do to you to feel like your friends just literally vanished into thin air even though the last time you saw them, they were healthy and young and alive? And then new guys replace them, and you have to decide if you want to make friends with them or close yourself off, because these guys are going to die too.

(Oh, and if a member of your crew got badly wounded? You could have HOURS before you got back to base, and you have some first aid training but you’re not a surgeon, you don’t have plasma or whole blood to give a guy to help keep him alive until you make it back. So another horrible traumatic thing you get to deal with. Wounds that could’ve been treatable if you’d been at Carentan or Guadalcanal could be fatal.) 

I’m not saying this show is a masterpiece in storytelling by any means, but… You’re supposed to feel shocked and angry and robbed of the chance to get to know these guys? Because that’s literally how their friends felt. It’s a point Miller makes a lot in the book, and a really vital part to understanding why being in the AAF (or other air forces) was such a meat grinder physically and psychologically for these guys. 

[galactic-magick]

Less Talking, More Kissing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: You tell Miguel that every time he gets mad at something he has to take you aside and make out with you.

Words: 1.0k+

Warnings: slightly suggestive

Author’s Notes: 100% convinced that if Miguel just got a kiss kiss he wouldn’t be such a dick.

-

-

-

It’s no secret to anyone in the Spider Society that Miguel is an angry man. Understandably so, considering what he’s been through. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect the entire team negatively. His anger often clouds his judgment and his ability to sympathize with others, and you know he’s aware of it. People don’t listen to him when he gets irrational and dramatic, and quite frankly he’s sick of not being taken seriously.

You know it’s partially a side-effect of his mutated DNA, giving him a bit of a feral, animalistic side that’s difficult to fully turn off, but when he comes to you feeling hopeless, you’re more than happy to do what you can. You’ve been together for a long time now, and you’re the one person he fully trusts.

“You’re the only person who can actually keep me grounded, you know,” he mumbles into your neck, cuddling you close on the couch. “How do you do it?”

“Nothing special,” you giggle as his fangs slightly tickle your skin. “I just love you as much as I can,”

“Even when I’m a jerk?”

“Especially when you’re a jerk.”

He groans, adjusting position so he’s propped up above you, “I wish I could just make out with you whenever I get like that. You’re the only one who can calm me down,”

You smirk, “Who says you can’t?”

“You...you want me to do that?”

“Why not?” you shrug. “If I have the power to turn you into a nicer guy, even if it’s temporary, why not let you do what you want with me?”

“Don’t tempt me, love,” he growls, leaning down to kiss you.

“I’m serious!” you push him away playfully. “Just try it tomorrow, okay? See if it works,”

“You’re too good to me,” he grins, leaning back down to capture your lips.

-

It’s not long into the next day before he needs you. He’s alone, glaring at his monitors and getting increasingly frustrated at all the issues rising across the universe. He tells Lyla to send you in, and before you can get a word out to ask what’s wrong, he grabs you and slams you against the panels, kissing you passionately until he gets all the irritation out of his system.

This continues to happen several more times over the next few weeks. At first it’s limited to only times when he’s alone, but eventually it bleeds into times others are around as well. Anytime he starts to get heated in some sort of mission briefing or meeting with people from the Spider Society, he’ll step out to call you and get his fix. People start to wonder why Miguel keeps randomly leaving meetings for 10-20 minutes and then returning completely composed, but none of them are about to complain that he’s gotten nicer recently. He’s been yelling a lot less and is overall a less negative person now, and people are a lot more chill around him now. They don’t feel scared to talk to him, and they’re finally listening to him as much as he wanted.

The day he hears about the newest anomaly on Earth-1610, though, is when his coping mechanism is really put to the test.

You haven’t seen him this angry in quite a long time, as he goes on and on about something involving a spider biting a kid in the wrong universe, and that kid’s actions causing the creation of a dangerous super villain. He tells the newest recruit, Gwen Stacy, to go to that universe and check it out, but to avoid Miles at all costs. She retaliates, due to Miles being a close old friend of hers, but Miguel doesn’t back down. He reminds her once again of what’s at stake and how important it is to maintain canon events, refusing to listen to her point of view.

“Miguel.” you take his hand and pull him aside, waving to the others. “We’ll be right back. Just need to take care of something,”

You take him out of the room and push him into the wall, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down to you and kiss him ferociously.

“Mmph-” he grunts. “They just-they just don’t understand…”

“I know sweetheart, I know,” you sigh as he kisses down your neck, lightly biting the skin. “But you really were being a jerk in there,”

“I could’ve been worse. I was holding back,” his hands graze and squeeze down the sides of your body, making your squeak at his strength.

“She’s just a kid, Miguel,”

“A kid who doesn’t know what she’s talking about-”

“Alright,” you cut him off. “Less talking, more kissing,”

He does as he’s told, continuing to kiss every piece of skin exposed. His hands move from your hair to your waist to your legs, and he lifts you up from under them. He turns you around and slams you against the wall, pressing into you while your hands cling to his giant shoulders.

“I need you,” he growls.

“You still have to go back in there eventually, you know,”

“But I haven’t gotten all my anger out yet,” he smirks against your lips.

“How much more do you have?”

“Enough to last all night, sweetheart,”

Your stomach flutters, and you slither your fingers into his hair. You’ve created a monster.

“Hey man,” you hear a voice several feet away. “Can we go home now or what?”

Miguel drops you down and you turn to see Hobie, Gwen, as multiple Peters from the mission briefing staring at you. You both feel your faces grow hot.

“Lyla will finish giving you all the details of the mission and then you can go your separate ways, yes,” Miguel speaks up.

They nod and awkwardly walk away, and Miguel grabs your hand and starts storming down the hall.

“Now they’re never going to take me seriously,”

“You don’t know that. Sometimes showing people you have a soft side actually makes them respect you more,”

“Hmmph,” he grunts, pulling you inside your shared room at the end of the hall.

You laugh, “Still need to get that anger out?”

“You have no idea.”

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch26

Description: I’m back, thought it was getting a little bit too fluffy so it’s about time some shit hit the fan x

The short holiday John had planned passed quickly. The 141 pack had truly spoiled me, taking me shopping, to dinner and even allowed me to share their pack bed with them when I couldn’t sleep. John, ever the traditionalist, had reminded me that I didn’t have to share their room if I needed space.

It all crashed to a jarring halt when Laswell called John an entire day earlier than she was supposed to.

*Laika’s POV*

I am lounging comfortably across Johnny’s lap, curled up against him as he sleeps. We were watching a movie together when John’s phone starts ringing. Kyle groans at the interruption and John sighs, standing to answer the phone in private, leaving the room.

I listen carefully through the walls as John paces back and forward in the hallway outside.

“Kate, I thought we had another day until we shipped out.. what’s changed?” John grumbles down the phone.

I don’t hear the reply, obviously, but it can’t be good news.

“No, she stays with us. We ain’t leavin’ her anywhere by herself. That’s not an option, Kate..”

Shit, they’re talking about me.. he sounds angry. Why were they discussing me…?!

“Kate.. it’s final, she comes with us or none of us come..”

They’re fighting, but I can only hear John’s side of the argument..

“I understand what you’re saying, Kate, but she is safest by my side. I won’t let anything harm her.. I’m not leaving her, that’s final.”

I can tell that the conversation is wrapping up. I sit back closer to Johnny, pretending to still be sleeping. I gulp, nervous about what is coming..

I hear the door click back open and John walks in, sighing heavily, clearly pissed off.

“..well?” Simon grunts

“We leave tonight, Kate’s got a lead..” John says.

“Tonight? Must be important. What was she saying about Laika..?” Simon digs.

“She thinks she should sit this one out. Thinks she can’t cope, that it’s dangerous.. that she’ll be a liability”

“And why’s that ..?”

They’re whispering, hoping I can’t hear them while I ‘sleep’ - Johnny, bless his heart, is still fast asleep. I’m pretty sure a bomb could go off and he’d sleep through it.

Kyle chooses the pause in conversation to pipe up. He’d obviously been listening and thinking through what could have happened.

“Who exactly is it Kate’s got a lead on, Cap..?”

“Makarov” John whispers, trying his best to not allow it to reach my ‘sleeping’ ears.

“Shit”

I tense up when I hear his name. I feel sick. Johnny must be able to feel my change of position as he suddenly tries to soften me up to better mould to his sleeping form. He kneads at my hips, trying to soften my position against his lap again, but I’m just too tense now that I’ve learnt that we are going up against Makarov.

“No point in whispering, she’s listening, aren’t you, little one..?” Simon says, directing his comment towards me, while I continue to try my best to pretend to be asleep.

Shit, he has noticed.. of course he has..

I open my eyes, immediately meeting the gaze of all three Alphas, Johnny continues to cling to me while he sleeps.

“So you’ve heard everything then, love?” John asks me, directly.

I nod, nervously.

“Do you want to stay.. sit this one out..? Your call..” he asks.

“I - I don’t want to be left on my own.. but.. but I don’t know if I’m ready to face Mak- him”

Fuck, I can’t even say his name.

“How-how long will you be gone..?” I whisper, contemplating my options.

“Probably a week, but we never really know.. we could bring you with us to the safe house,..? Make sure you’re safe..?”

“I - uhm.. I..” I stutter, completely at a loss of what to do.

“Sweetheart” Kyle speaks softly from beside me, “you’ve got a couple of hours to think every thing through. Take your time, you’ve got options. You can stay here, at base.. you can come with us to the safe house and stay there until we come back, or you can obviously come with us on the mission but if you’re nervous or not ready then it’s probably safer if you stay away from the action for now..”

I nod, appreciating Kyle’s calming presence and simplification of my options.

“I - I want to come to the safe house”

He nods and smiles at me.

“Sorted then, that’s what we will do, love”

John agrees and Simon just, sort of, stares. Johnny continues to sleep until Simon abruptly stands, barking Johnny’s name. He jumps, and wraps his arms tightly around me before remembering where he is.

“What the fuck’s goin’ oan?!” He grumbles, sleepily.

“Hiya, pretty.. look at you all comfy on your favourite Alpha’s lap, eh?” He teases, kissing my cheeks, dangerously close to the corner of my mouth.

We hadn’t done anything since my weird half heat thing. John had said it was best to take things slow and steady.. it had all been flirtatious touches, cuddles and kisses, nothing more. But Johnny had come close to breaking his Alpha’s ground rules.. he was the boldest of the pack. The least obedient.

Kyle had been nothing short of a gentleman, so soft and caring. Simon had closed himself off again, a little, on the physical side of things but had still been kind and respectful. He’d been calling me sweet nicknames for the past few days.

John had spoilt me on the shopping trip again, much to my disapproval. I quickly realised that if I looked at anything for more than 3 seconds, John would assume I wanted it and would send Kyle to buy it before I could tell him I just admired it and that didn’t mean he had to buy it for me. He just brushed my moaning off as nonsense.

The next few hours pass in a blur. It feels like one second, I was curled in Johnny’s lap, and the next, I’m sitting in the back of the car between Kyle and Simon, as we head towards London.

I must have fallen asleep as I wake up in Simon’s arms as he carries me up the stairs of an unfamiliar house. “It’s alright, little one. We’re at the safe house. Taking you to bed. Y’must be tired. Been sleepin’ a lot lately..” he teases gruffly.

I whine against his chest, taking this rare moment of closeness to inhale his rich scent. He grumbles when he realised what I’m doing. “Greedy girl” he teases again.

“M’not greedy. Not my fault he doesn’t cuddle me more…” I huff back, like a little brat.

He chuckles deeply at my response.

“M’not a cuddly Alpha.. not like the others anyway..”

“John’s cuddly..?” I ask, having only recognised Johnny and Kyle’s obvious obsession with touchy feely stuff.

“Oh yeah. Caps probably the worst. He has been holdin’ back around you, omega.. afraid he’ll scare you away..”

“John..? As in the Captain.. Pack Alpha..?” I ask, completely lost.

“Yep, once he has you in his arms, he ain’t goin’ to want to let you go. He’s a possessive bastard..”

“I like it when you cuddle me..” I admit “you’re warm.. ‘n’ so big..” I whisper, slightly embarrassed.

“Shh, love.. you’re tired. Not thinkin’ straight”

“No, Simon.. I mean it. I want more…”

“Don’t want to hurt you, little one. I’ll let Kyle and Johnny do all that stuff. They’ve more control over their Alpha side than I do”.

[lokiiied]

it’s time for my long awaited autistic coded jamie post. okay so…

sensory issues? check. also his lil tongue thing.

not understanding social cues & having to be told/explicitly asking how to interact with people and then learning & adapting; asking for and actually taking every piece of advice he gets from people who are important to him. that’s like. literally the base struggle with autism.

mislabelling his own behaviour as thinking he’s “being a prick” at times when he’s genuinely just expressing his thoughts/gently explaining something to people because other people have always told him that’s what he was instead of differentiating for him that he’s actually really smart and has good ideas.

sometimes he is just a prick tho.

plus there’s his trauma to factor in where he’s also afraid to share his ideas & feelings cuz of his dad.

the way he just assumed he misinterpreted everything and was sent off to man city as punishment for not doing enough about his behaviour and then never asked ted about it after he came back (even though ted really should have had a conversation with him and cleared everything up.)

how he’s remembered all these little factoids about amsterdam that he learned ten years ago and he might’ve had a little amsterdam and/or movie hyperfixation after the holiday with his mum to cope and distract himself from the traumatic memories of the previous time w his dad.

fully accepting his title of being a lil dumb/himbo. even though he also has a lot of knowledge about random things, is one of the best footballers in the league, and works really hard/wants to learn to be better. feel like this can generally be applied to all autistics (replacing football w that one thing that you’re really good at). and idk i feel like autistics invented himbos. so yeah!

also before someone tries to apply all of this to = ptsd…you can have ptsd and be autistic. not everything is a trauma response, and statistically autistic people are more likely to have trauma, anxiety, depression, & comorbidity with other disorders. it’s all very interconnected! xx

while i’m at it, roy’s autistic too!

difficulty expressing emotions and verbalising his thoughts/feelings. growling when he’s angry/non-verbal literally the most autistic shit ever.

his voice. as an autistic who has a very monotone/hard to hear/control voice i. recognise ways of speaking and i register his voice as part of his autism.

not great at communication/assuming people just know what he’s thinking.

also incredibly blunt/direct doesn’t sugarcoat things or lie when it may be socially expected to do so.

literally. his resting face. “you frowned your whole career” “no, i never smiled, that’s different.”

two autistic people trying to hug each other:

+ “well, you came at me too fast!”

anyways mostly they’re autistic cuz i’m autistic and my spidey sense says so.

[miyamiwu]

I follow 3 different YouTube channels for their fun Blue Lock reaction videos, but this guy’s reaction was so real man:

He fucking cried 😭

Are we cooked? Are we cooked? (sobs) Oh fuck, this be—I swear. I don’t wanna put it on anything, like, I don’t wanna swear to something but, like, I’m not joking—(ugly laugh-cry)—not joking. I’m not joking. This U20 game better be better than anything from Jujutsu Kaisen season 2. It better be better than Zoro vs King, Gear 5 Luffy, Tengen vs Gyutaro. It better be better than all that. I’m not doing this shit, bruh. I’m not.

I feel you, man😭. People had very high expectations for Blue Lock season 2. “Anime of the Season,” “Peak Lock,” and whatnot, but 8Bit so far has not yet delivered anything that has met those expectations. Now, we’re all hoping and praying that they’re “saving the budget” for the actual U20. And with how the first few episodes are just delivering the bare minimum, we’re desperately holding onto the belief that U20 is going to be amazing and that all this disappointment from PNGlock would be worth it.

I’m trying to be positive here and look at the good side of the anime, but we really shouldn’t have to be settling for crumbs just because the studio is rushing to release the season when they’ve just released EpiNagi earlier this year.

Like, it’s fucking ridiculous that it’s come to the point we get hyped over the smallest movement in a sports anime that’s supposed to be full of it 😭😭😭

There should be some balance here. They can skimp on the budget on the pre-U20 episodes, but it shouldn’t reach to levels where they’re left with nothing but panning PNGs, underwater filters, and slide transitions. It would’ve been more acceptable if they have given us quality like that in Clean Freak! Aoyama-kun, a mid soccer anime with mid animation, because that show at least has some actual movement.

And before you say, “Just don’t watch the anime if you’re gonna complain,” let me grab you by the shoulders, look into your eyes, and ask you:

Are you seriously contented with this kind of “animation”?

Complaining is not always bad. Complaining is not always negative. Complaining is not always toxic.

People complain because they want a change for the better. Is wanting something for the better that bad?

If nobody in history ever complained, then the word “accountability” wouldn’t exist in our dictionary.

I admit that non-fans hating on Blue Lock animation just to ride on the hate train is too much, but as someone who loves Blue Lock, how can you not feel any pain or rage in seeing the half-assed work being done on the show?

Anger is just one way of grieving and coping. And people get angry because they care.

The fact that the fandom is raging over the animation quality is proof that Blue Lock is loved.

We’re angry with the animation because we care.

So let’s just hold each other’s hands and not fight one another. The problem is not between us fans, who just want the best for Blue Lock. The problem is with the studio.

This isn’t the first time 8Bit has done a disservice on the show, and I doubt it will be the last. They can’t keep getting away with this.

[twenty-qs]

Megumi and Tsumiki do not have a good relationship.

Jujutsu Kaisen is a Greek tragedy. Our heroes are flawed and those flaws bring about their doom. Plenty of people have given great analyses about how this relates to Megumi’s and Yuuji’s relationship, but today I want to talk about the Fushiguro siblings.

Initially, we only know about Tsumiki from Megumi’s POV. She’s sleeping beauty, the archetypical absent female character whose tragic fate propels the male hero forward. He clearly holds her as the ideal of a ��good person’ in his mind.

So I was quite shocked when we finally see what their relationship was actually like.

First of all, Megumi visibly resents her. He rejects all of her attempts at caretaking, and he’s blunt and cruel about it. And Tsumiki is not the perfect patient princess we’ve been led to believe. She lashes out, kind of violently—she doesn’t regret throwing the carton at him, only that it still had milk in it. (Lol.) She didn’t throw it because Megumi got in a fight, she threw it because Megumi said he hated her. Megumi says Tsumiki was kind to him and supported him, but the only thing we’re shown is this really acrimonious exchange. It creates an uneasy feeling. Can we trust Megumi’s perspective? Is he misremembering something?

Clearly, these two did not get along. They’re both traumatized children who were abandoned by their parents, and Tsumiki coped by trying to play house, while Megumi coped by being distant and angry. They can’t understand each other or communicate properly. They must have constantly fought as kids. All they have in the world is each other, and they resent each other for it.

Immediately after this scene, Tsumiki does the test of courage and gets cursed—so this might be the last time they saw each other before Tsumiki fell into a coma. (I’m not super clear on the timeline, but it would make sense.) Megumi, like a child who only appreciates something’s value after it’s gone, finally realizes Tsumiki’s true strength of character.

And you would THINK that he’s learned something. You would THINK that their relationship would be different now that Tsumiki’s finally awake again.

But once they reunited, did he apologize? Did he say “Hey sis, sorry for being such a brat”? Did he say “I’m glad you’re awake again, I love you”?

No! Basically the first thing he says, after a brief mention of the culling game, is “You can go back to sleep.” After she’s been asleep for over a year and a half. After he’s been waiting faithfully for her to wake up for a YEAR AND A HALF.

Imagine Sleeping Beauty suddenly waking up by herself, and then Prince Charming going, wait, actually, nevermind. I don’t need you. Nobody needs you. I haven't killed the dragon yet, you're not supposed to be awake. GO BACK TO SLEEP.

That’s cruel. Tsumiki, and the curse possessing her, know that’s cruel. Nothing has changed in their relationship since before she was cursed. Megumi is still too wrapped up in himself to think about her perspective, too busy going off on his own sacrificial missions without once stopping to ask her what she wants. And in response, Tsumiki is still smiling at him with daggers in her heart.

If Megumi had paid more attention to Tsumiki, if he had bothered to try to talk to her and cultivate a real connection once she woke up, maybe he would have noticed something was off. Maybe Tsumiki would have been able to fight off the curse somewhat. Maybe Megumi would have been able to tell the difference between his beloved sister and a monster.

But he didn’t. And he couldn’t. And that’s nobody’s fault but his own.

[risingchaos]

A MESSAGE FROM NIGHTWING

-

Rating: Teen & Up

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandoms: Nightwing (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)

Characters: Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Comfort, Politics, He’s taking a video of himself after the election, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Comfort No Hurt

Language: English

Words: 603

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: In the wake of the 2024 presidential election, Nightwing releases a video to the masses.

If you are in need of resources, I have added some to the end notes on AO3. Please, utilize them.

-

The camera flicks on to the skyline of Blüdhaven and a closeup of Nightwing’s blue domino mask as he checks to make sure it’s on. Once he does, he smiles, using his hands to do a sort of crab walk backwards before sitting cross legged, most of his body in frame. He puts his elbows on his knees, and leans forward a little to talk.

“Hey. It’s uh, it’s been a rough week, hasn’t it?” His smile is already frayed at the edges, similar to the look he gets when trying to comfort a victim. “Even here in Blüd, crime’s gotten weird. Someone shouted at me that the blue on my suit showed my true colors, told them who I voted for, easy. It’s not like they’re wrong, but.. I’m a symbol, for a lot of people. To civilians, to heroes, to villains. And I wanted to say something.”

He cleared his throat, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Right now, emotions are running pretty high, yeah? A lot of people are scared, or angry, or sad, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to be. It’s alright to feel that way. Emotions don’t have to be productive in order for you feel them. This sucks.”

Nightwing sighed, smile not wavering but settling into a more comforting one. His shoulders were squared, but he was leaning forward onto his elbows a little. It just exuded warmth and comfort.

“I get it. I’m pissed right now. I’m worried for the people in my life that I love, for all the people I don’t know that are going to be affected by the outcome of this election, worse than I will. All the people in red states, in the south, that don’t get the luxury of living somewhere protected. So be mad. Be sad. Be upset. But don’t take this as a defeat.”

His expression turned the page over to determination, corners of his mouth dropping with his eyebrows. He looked like Nightwing, protector of Blüdhaven.

“Take it as a sign. This was just a battle, it’s not the war. Work in your community if you don’t already. Find ways to help all those that will be affected, and I don’t mean do what I do.” He pointed at the camera with a stern look, breaking it after a moment with a soft chuckle. “Join grassroots work in your city, donate your time and energy to shelters and charities. There’s so many lists out there of reputable organizations that you can feel comfortable helping. Don’t let this kill you. It’ll suck, yeah, but if you let this break you, you’ll never get back up again.”

He rested his chin in his palm, sighing long.

“Believe me, I get it. I want to scream and yell and go punch every dumbass that voted for him. Shake them by the shoulders and ask how they didn’t notice, how they couldn’t see the signs of what he’d do, but it would prove their point. Nothing would get fixed. The best advice I can give, right now, is to let yourself feel what you feel. Cope how you can, and then pick yourself up, and fight for yourself, and for those that can’t, and for those that want you with them.”

He shifted up onto his knees, crawling towards the camera and picking it up. Once again, there was a smile on his face, kind and welcoming.

“And if the assholes fight back, then you can punch them in the face. God knows I find it pretty therapeutic.”

He laughed, genuine and bright, before grinning properly and ending the video.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 5112

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30s), omorashi

Series Masterlist if you've missed a chapter or need to re-read!

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

Epilogue I.

Omegas don’t do well with change like this.

Moves tend to stress them out. To have all the things they cling to for safety and reassurance suddenly disappeared? replaced? Their den switched up, their nest taken away, nothing smelling or looking or feeling the same as what they’re used to? It’s distressing to them. It can throw them into bad moods at best, and mental health crises at worst. It isn’t logical and the poor things can’t control it, so their reactions can be confusing to people who aren’t familiar with omega behavioral patterns and physiology. 

Luckily, Steve knows all about such things, so he isn’t too shocked when Bucky has trouble with his moods after moving into the apartment and begins—among other things—compulsively stress-masturbating with whatever he can get his hands on.

“Honey, wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Steve hurries to shut the door and set down his armload of shopping bags, going over to wrestle away whatever it is Bucky’s trying to stuff up his posterior. He almost laughs when he sees that it’s a hairbrush. (In the kid’s defense, it does have a vaguely cylindrical, rubberized handle.)  “Bucky, give it to me,” he Voices, and takes it from the angrily whining omega. Yesterday, he’d had to break one of his mother’s cardinal rules and throw out food when he’d caught Bucky being violent with a vegetable.

“Nnn!”

Steve hushes him, pulling him into his arms and holding tightly. “Hey, stop. I’m here. I’m right here, ‘mega.”

Bucky stops fighting him and goes limp in his hold, changing from angry whines to a confused sob as he tucks his face into Steve’s neck and mouths over the skin. “Steve,” he moans, overwhelmed.

“Shhh. M’right here. You’re okay.” 

Against his neck, Bucky sniffles, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I tried, I tried to wait but I’m just so …” He makes a frustrated noise and grinds his face against Steve’s shoulder. “Mmrrr.”

Steve’s eyes track to the couch. There’s Bucky’s discarded sweatpants and his diaper. The nearest pillow, which Steve deduces he was recently humping, has a dark patch of slick on it. “Still feeling stressed?” he says, stroking Bucky’s back soothingly when the question elicits another whine. “Shhh. It’s okay. You’re allowed to touch yourself. But remember what we talked about? Safe ways?” He lets his hand trail down to Bucky’s butt, fingers delving gently between his cheeks to feel the slick there. “You need to be safe and not hurt yourself.”

Bucky nips him reactively. “I forgot,” he growls, then gasps in surprise when Steve pinches his asscheek. “Hey!”

“Don’t be mean. Your body’s just stressed. That’s why you’re feelin’ so emotional.”

He sniffles and hides against him. “But m’happy to be here.”

“I know you are, bub. Don’t worry. I know. And you know I’m so excited to have you here with me.” He kisses his hair. “We talked about this. Sometimes your body gets ahead of you. We’ve just gotta make you feel at home and real safe, then I promise you’ll feel better.” 

That’s why he just popped out to the store to grab a few things. He’d left Bucky snacks and blankets to snuggle with on the couch, but clearly that wasn’t what he felt like doing.

Against him, Bucky whines and starts humping his leg. “ ‘lpha,” he grumbles, embarrassed. He’s been acting upset and erratic since they came home yesterday. He’d cried when the confusing behavior started up, afraid that Steve would think he didn’t really want to be there, or that he didn’t want Steve as his alpha. Steve doesn’t think he’s heard someone call him ‘Alpha’ so many times in a twenty-four hour period in his life.

“That’s right, bub,” he reassures him with another tight squeeze. “I’m your Alpha. And you’re my good omega. Gonna make it official real soon.” 

The only reason he hasn’t, is because of the birth control injection that needs twenty-four hours to be fully effective. But Bucky doesn’t know that. He thinks the shot he received yesterday morning was just a mega-dose of vitamins. He has no idea that it’s something Steve quietly told Raynor to administer before they left the ward, something he wanted done for Bucky’s welfare. It’ll prevent pregnancy, just until they get situated, until they’re bonded and Steve can be sure that Bucky is properly settled in his new home.

Bucky hasn’t been told the truth because he won’t understand. He’ll instinctively take it as rejection, just like any omega would; a sign that Steve doesn’t think he's good enough, doesn’t want to breed him up. 

Which couldn’t be further from the truth! Steve can’t wait for the day when he’ll get to fill Bucky full to bursting, plug him up with his cum and watch his seed take root, watch the boy’s gorgeous body grow ripe and heavy with their pups. That’ll be a wonderful day, when it happens, but it isn’t happening now. Steve wants to give Bucky everything he’s missed out on in life so far, and that includes a happy, relaxed, and romantic period of child-free bliss with his new Alpha. Time where Bucky is the center of Steve’s attention with nothing to take away from it. There will be plenty of time for pups down the road—maybe even later that same year, who knows? But not right now. 

Yesterday had been tough. Steve had been hard pressed to find an excuse to give Bucky as to why they weren’t fucking each other’s brains out. He’d settled on half-truths, saying that he wanted Bucky to work on scenting the apartment and building up a spot for himself in the hallway nesting closet. He’d told Bucky that it would be healthier for him to settle in and calm down a little bit before they made love.

Luckily, Bucky hadn’t known enough to call bullshit on him, but Steve has still been grinding his teeth ever since they got home to the apartment twenty-seven hours ago, not able to fuck a claim into his omega for fear of getting him pregnant.

Now that he’s given it that little bit of extra time and can be sure that Bucky’s fertility is suppressed, Steve tells him that they can go back to the bedroom together, if he wants. Bucky mewls happily and nods, humping against him harder. “Steeve.”

Steve comforts him with a quick hug, and takes his hand. “Come on.” He leads his half naked omega back towards the bedroom. “I told you I’d be gone for less than an hour. You couldn’t wait?”

“No.” 

It’s such a firm and stubborn little ‘no’, that it makes Steve chuckle as he guides him to the bed. This is day number two in the apartment together, yesterday was a whirlwind of paperwork and transitions, of new and unfamiliar and figuring out. But today is real, and raw, and Steve hasn’t been completely soft since he woke up that morning and realized that today is the day he’s finally going to get to have Bucky. He’s finally going to get to fuck his omega—no, not fuck: make love to him. 

He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Bucky in close, hands on his waist. “I know it’s a lot of change all at once. It’s okay to be sad, or scared, or even just confused about how you feel.” Bucky grunts and shakes his head, trying to pull away but relaxing when Steve’s hands hold fast. “Use your words, bub.”

“M’not sad,” he grunts, face pinched as he bashfully admits, “I just get nervous.”

“Nervous about what?” 

“Dunno. Just that maybe ..." He shrugs and won’t meet Steve’s eyes as he mumbles, "Maybe it’s too good to be true.”

Steve’s heart twinges painfully. “Oh, Honey. Don’t say that. It’s not. It’s not too good to be true. It’s real. You’re here with me, aren’t you?” His fingers slip under the fabric of Bucky’s tee shirt and caress the soft give of his waist. “You deserve good things, Buck. I’m so happy you’re mine now and I can show you that. None of this is any more than what you deserve, Sweet boy.”

“But how can you be sure you won’t, ya know, ... change your mind?”

Steve huffs and tugs him in closer, ignoring the little ‘oof’ of surprise that Bucky makes when his shins hit the mattress. “I’m sure,” he growls, needing to never hear that pitiful uncertainty in his omega’s voice ever again. “Bucky, Jesus. I’ve never been more sure of anything. I’m not gonna change my fucking mind.” He scoffs at the mere notion. “Baby, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to—” He cuts himself off from admitting something that he shouldn’t: the inappropriate truth. 

Which is that he’d been excited that year when Bucky finally aged up to C Hall, to sexual touch therapies that Steve hadn’t previously been allowed to provide him. Steve isn’t supposed to view his omega charges that way—like he’s attracted to them or interested in them as more than patients—but he’s realizing now that he had felt that way about Bucky, since before the boy came up to C hall, even. He’d just buried those feelings deep and convinced himself that they weren’t there. It’d been necessary, otherwise he would’ve been sick every time he had to watch Bucky’s shitty family show up and yank him back out of the sanatorium too soon. Hell, it was hard enough to watch it even with the shield of his own denial. Truth is, Steve’s felt an inexplicable draw to this kid ever since he’d very first been wheeled into Hydra, strapped down, crying, and lost.

Swallowing thickly, he changes what he was going to say to a quiet, “You don’t know how happy I was, when you said you wanted me to be the daddy,” instead, warming inside when Bucky’s eyes flit up to him in surprise. He smiles softly. “Yeah, I remember you said that.”

Bucky flushes beautifully and does an endearing little squirm. “Hmm.”

Steve chuckles. “See? You’re stuck with me.” It’s a promise more than anything else, and he feels the pleasured shiver that runs through Bucky’s body in reaction to it. “Gonna bond you, Sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You want that?”

Bucky chirps, the instinctive sound making his cheeks color prettily. He glances down at himself, and Steve looks too. His little prick is fattened up, as hard as it’s ever really capable of getting. And his inner thighs are smeared with shiny slick that makes Steve’s cock throb and his balls feel heavy and full. He licks his lips, lightheaded at the possibilities of what he can do to Bucky now that the Sanatorium's rules and restrictions don’t apply to them anymore.

“Jesus,” he rasps, fighting not to give in to the urge to simply grab the boy and toss him up on the bed. Steve knows that, outside of whatever treatments he’s received on-ward, Bucky is very sexually inexperienced; a virgin. That’s why Steve has to do this right. You never forget your first time. “Bucky, Honey,” he says gently. “Do you think you’re ready to be with me?”

Steve’s a lot older than him, and leagues more experienced—in both sex, and life in general. That’s why, even though he’s got no doubt that the boy wants this, it’s still important to ask in the beginning, before things get too hot and heavy. Given that Bucky’s been humping the pillows and sexually abusing common household objects, Steve knows he can’t afford to wait any longer. Bucky needs this, needs to feel loved and safe and claimed, and the best that Steve can do for him is to give him the chance to say yes, to feel like he’s deciding on his own that this is the right choice. 

So he reaches up and palms the kid’s cheek, rumbling in approval when Bucky pushes into the contact with a plaintive sound. “Words, bubba,” he coaxes gently. “Tell me what you're thinking.”

Bucky mewls and presses closer, pushing against Steve and climbing up into his lap on the bed. Steve falls backwards and Bucky chirps happily and follows after him, already back to humping his stomach and eagerly yet gracelessly kissing his mouth. “Mm, hmmph, mmm —”

Steve laughs at his enthusiasm and groans at the feeling of the kid rubbing off on him, pushing Steve’s shirt up and smearing slick on his abs. Steve threads a hand into Bucky’s hair and pulls him back so that he can get up properly onto the bed. “Hang on, Honey. Just hang on a sec.” Bucky whines and chirps and generally makes himself into a very squirmy obstacle, but Steve is much stronger and leagues more coordinated than he is in his present condition, poor thing. He’s able to wrangle Bucky onto his back in the middle of the bed and get his shirt off of him—the only article of clothing he was left wearing, anyway.

“Ooh.” Bucky moans and writhes against the chenille blankets when he feels that softness against his naked skin. “Oh, Steeve.”

“Hang on one sec, Buck. M’right here. Not goin’ anywhere.” Steve gets back up on his knees and yanks his shirt overhead. He gets his belt loosened, his pants off, and tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, ready to shuck them as well. But he pauses and looks at Bucky when he hears the omega’s breath catch. 

Bucky is lying there with parted lips, a lax jaw, and prettily pinched eyebrows. His eyes are heated and heavy-lidded as he takes in Steve’s body. Steve smiles tenderly at him and starts to peel his underwear down, watching Bucky watch him, rapt. “What’s the most you’ve done with an alpha, Sweetheart?” he asks, putting a little bit of his Voice into the words to help make Bucky feel reassured. “Mm?”

Bucky licks his lips and stares as Steve’s cock is revealed to him. “An alpha …” he repeats dumbly. “I …” He exhales shakily as Steve tucks his underwear behind his balls and wraps a hand around the base of his shaft. “Oh, God.”

Steve waits, then asks the question again as he gives himself a squeeze and wrings his hand down to the head in one slow, indulgent stroke.

The scent of fresh slick hits the air, sharp and sweet, betraying Bucky’s growing arousal. “Just … um … just …” he breathes, rapt at the sight of Steve’s hand on his dick. “S’just you. At the hospital.”

Steve groans softly. He’d figured as much, but to hear Bucky say it out loud, that he’s a complete virgin except for the times that Steve has touched him, makes his belly flare with new heat and his cock pulse in his hand. “Yeah?” he encourages, letting go of himself so he can lower back down on top of Bucky. He uses a thigh to nudge the boy’s legs apart, making a space for himself in the cradle of his hips. Bucky whimpers and parts beautifully for it, pulling his knees up and tilting his pelvis to try and keep humping on him. Steve presses down obligingly, letting him rub his little prick against his lower abs. “No experimenting with friends?” he checks, because that’s not unheard of.

He won’t be bothered in the slightest if Bucky’s tried to scratch his itch by playing sexually with his omega peers on the ward. That sort of behavior is fairly common in group settings, especially in omegas who’re very stressed. The nesting pods in the sensory room back at Hydra, for instance, are a popular place where the omega patients will often pile up and rub on each other for comfort.

“Just me, huh?” Steve says fondly, when he can see that the answer is still a no. He smiles and cradles Bucky’s face in his hand, thumb stroking back and forth over his cheek. “You nervous?”

Bucky hesitates, but then he nods. “Just … just ‘cause it’s so private,” he says, blushing. “Because m’not used to it. But I’m not scared, I promise.” He bites his lip, eyes flitting over Steve’s face like he’s working up the nerve to admit something else. “I’m glad it’s you,” he says, smiling a little, nervous and honest. “I’m glad it’s all been with you.” 

Jesus. Steve’s whole chest feels full and warm, like bathwater about to overflow, and he doesn’t think twice before saying, “I love you, Bucky.” He nods along as Bucky chirps and his eyes water happily. “Yeah. I do.”

“Steve.” 

Bucky starts to cry, and it hurts Steve to see it, to think of how long it’s been since any person has told him that he’s loved. So he repeats it a few times more, dipping in to kiss lightly at the boy’s lax, plush mouth. “I love you, ‘mega. Love you. Love you.”

“Steve, oh.”

“Want to make love to you,” he murmurs against his cheek, lips dragging over skin, down to kiss his jaw, his neck. He mouths over the visibly swollen spot of his glands, and Bucky jerks and cries out. He starts humping frantically against him, and Steve nods and pushes down into it, giving him pressure to rut against. He slips a hand into Bucky’s hair and cradles his skull as the boy gets close. “That’s it,” he says, “That’s it, Honey. Make yourself cum.” He lets his teeth scrape lightly over Bucky’s glands. “Want to make you feel safe, ‘mega. You’re so safe with me.”

Bucky stiffens and comes, shuddering through it and clinging tightly to Steve the whole time. Steve hums encouragingly and lets him ride it out. “Good boy,” he praises. “Such a good boy for me.” He pulls back and looks down at him, smiling tenderly and admiring Bucky’s blissed out features.

Slowly, Bucky’s face relaxes from the orgasm, and his eyes flutter back open to look up at Steve. He's panting slightly, all bitten-red lips and wobbling chin and long lashes. The perfect picture of an aroused omega.

“I want to bond you, Sweetheart,” Steve whispers, knowing that this needs to be Bucky’s decision. Even if his biology ultimately took the choice away from him three years ago, Steve can at least give him the illusion of choice now. “Right here." He swipes his thumb over Bucky’s glands. “When I’m inside you. When we’re tied. I’ll bite you, and we’ll be connected forever.” He waits a moment, letting the silence emphasize the gravity of what he’s asking. “Do you want that, Bucky? To be my bondmate?”

Bucky’s breath hitches and his face absolutely crumples. He cries and nods rapidly, whining and clinging to Steve as though he can possibly get any closer. “Please, Steve, please.” He grapples for Steve’s head and kisses him sloppily, desperate and greedy. “Mmm, mmph.”

Steve indulges him for a moment or two, letting the inexperienced omega explore and make himself feel good. But then he takes control, using his fingers in Bucky’s hair to guide him. He slots their mouths together and kisses him with agonizingly slow pressure. He waits for Bucky’s muffled sob before he dares to slip inside, delving into his mouth—hot, and wet and slow—touching their tongues in a dirty roll and showing him how good it can be. “Tell me,” he insists, pulling back and thumbing at the corner of Bucky's eye. “Tell me what you want.”

Bucky whimpers and tries to kiss him again, his hands sliding restlessly over Steve's back and shoulders. “Yes,” he pants. “Yes, yes. Alpha. Mate me. B-bond.”

Steve rumbles deep in his chest as his hindbrain flares with white-hot satisfaction. 'Yes, Alpha'—that’s all he needed to hear. “Okay,” he says, making sure to give Bucky one last, tender peck on the mouth to show him that he’s not angry, that his voice has gone to gravel and his body tensed to stone because of how happy he is, how excited. Every primal, possessive part of his brain is stimulated at the thought of finally claiming Bucky as his own. Claiming this sweet, soft, vulnerable, needy boy is the only thing he’s yearned for in recent memory, and now he’s finally going to get to do it. 

He tries to hold it together for Bucky’s sake. He doesn’t want to be an animal, even though that’s exactly how he feels, his mind rapidly devolving into pinhole focus on keywords like ‘mate’ and ‘breed’ and ‘mine’. But he takes deep breaths and keeps control of his instincts because he wants this to be good for Bucky. He wants this to be lovemaking, not fucking. He wants it to be tender.

“Okay, Sweetheart,” he rasps, resting their foreheads together and nudging their noses. “Turn over on your belly when I let you up,” he says. “Can you do that for me, Omega? I want you to turn over and present for Alpha.”

Bucky mewls in excitement and his hips tilt up to rub his cocklet on Steve’s belly again. “Alpha!” he chirps happily, ostensibly from being called ‘Omega’ like that for the very first time—Affectionately, possessively.

“That’s right, Buck,” Steve praises. “I’m your Alpha. And you’re my Omega.” He kisses him once more, but pulls back before he can get carried away. He yanks himself away from Bucky, getting onto his knees and sitting back on his heels. “Come on.” He taps Bucky’s hip impatiently, grinning when he notices that it’s his own cock, resting thick and heavy between his thighs, that has Bucky wide-eyed and slack jawed in fascination.

“It got bigger,” he breathes in amazement. In the blankets, his hands twitch like he’s imagining taking hold of it.

Steve has no doubt that he would, but he tuts to discourage it because he knows he won’t have the willpower to redirect the boy if Bucky decides to start grabbing for his dick. “Don’t get distracted, now,” he rumbles, letting his Voice edge the words with authority. “Present for me, Omega. I know you know how.”

Bucky nods, still staring as a whine starts up in his throat, reedy and plaintive. He begins to bite and suck on his lower lip again as he looks his fill at what may just be the first alpha cock he’s ever seen in his life. Certainly it’s the first one he’s ever seen in person. Steve feels himself getting harder as he watches Bucky’s fascinated eyes flit between his cock and thighs and balls. He seems to like the slight bulge of Steve’s flaccid knot the best, staring hard at it as he makes unconscious little humping movements against the bed. 

Steve catches a glimpse of his slick-smeared thighs and loses patience. Bucky squeaks in surprise when Steve’s hands land on his hips and urge him to turn over. “Yes!” he yelps. 

Steve lets go, knowing that the omega wants to do it himself, wants to show his Alpha that he’s eager to present. “Good boy,” he purrs, when Bucky has gone face down and ass up in the bedcovers, his knees drawing up under himself and then spreading to achieve that picture-perfect arch in his back.

Steve shuffles closer on his knees, until his thighs are pressed all along the backs of Bucky’s. He splays one hand out on his sacrum and uses the other to part his cheeks, groaning at the sight of his pink and pulsing rim.

It's so wet. Steve sets his cock against it and holds it there, pulses his hips and watches the head peek out from the foreskin, shiny and pink, right over that wet and clenching muscle. “God,” he breathes, amazed at the contrast between them. His dick looks dark and angry against that sweet and vulnerable hole, rigid and mean where Bucky is soft and puffy. “So perfect,” he whispers.

He lets his fingers trail further down, over Bucky’s plump taint, admiring it and rubbing in gentle circles. He nudges Bucky's tight little sac, imagines how wide and bare the stretch of skin will be once Bucky’s had his operation. There’ll be so much to play with, so much smoothness and sensitivity. Steve imagines spending half an hour there, just using his mouth on him, sucking and rubbing and making him come.

“Alpha,” Bucky whines plaintively, pushing his ass back in a needy little wiggle. “Please?”

"Yeah, Baby." Steve lets go of his cock and curls over Bucky’s back, covering him, wrapping an arm under his belly and hugging him back against his chest. "I’m gonna go slow,” he promises. “Fingers, then my cock. I want another orgasm outta you before I put it in.” He kisses the nape of his neck, slides his hand back and down to slip between his cheeks and touch his fluttering rim. It’s so hot, the searing heat of his body when Steve presses the tip of a finger inside making his breath catch and his cock throb. Fuck. He’s going to be in there.

That first finger goes in with hardly any effort, Bucky's body sucking it in. Steve eases in a second when the omega begins to whine impatiently. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes, dragging his nose along his hairline and inhaling his scent as he gives him gentle thrusts. It so wet, so tight but so easy to move inside him. Two fingers become three as he pumps his hand, curling on every slow drag out, feeling Bucky shudder underneath him and tension pull through his body as he gets close. “You gonna cum for me, bub?” he whispers, kissing his nape. “Come on, Honey, come on …” 

Bucky moans gutturally as he tips over into orgasm, ass clenching rhythmically and flooding Steve’s hand with slick. “Oh, oh, oh …”

Steve kisses the shell of his ear. “There you go,” he praises. “Did that feel good?” Bucky nods, still panting, and whimpers a shaky little ‘yeah’ that goes straight to Steve's knot. Steve hums and pulls his fingers out. He spreads all that wetness onto his dick, squeezing himself hard at the base for a few seconds to try to stave off his own pleasure. He worries this isn’t going to last very long. “Good job, Baby. So good for me. So beautiful, so good.” He keeps murmuring praise as he pulls back on his knees and looks down at where he’s lining himself up. His cock throbs in his hand at the sight of Bucky’s puffy, twitching rim. “Fuck, Honey. You’re so beautiful.” 

Bucky moans and rocks in place, scrubbing his face into the blankets as he begs to be filled. “Please, pleease. Alpha. Steve.”

“M’right here,” Steve soothes, steadying him with a hand on his lower back. “Shhh. I’ve got you.” He rubs his cockhead back and forth, slippery and red and wet, pressing hard on Bucky's rim but not quite penetrating him. “You ready?” he whispers, waiting for Bucky’s whimper of assent before he starts to push in, slow and steady, gently increasing the pressure until Bucky's rim gives way and he pops inside. He keeps going until he’s buried to the hilt, his balls pressed up tight to Bucky’s ass. “Oh, God.” He’s so tight, his virgin cunt gripping Steve’s cock so perfectly. 

Below him, Bucky moans and looses a warbling, devastated, sob. “Oghn, Steeve!” 

“You okay, bub?” Steve tries with all his might to hold still while Bucky adjusts to his size. He pulses his hips gently, not pulling out much at all, but letting the omega feel him inside his body. “Feel good?”

“Nnngh,” Bucky whines, nodding against the blankets. “Ss-steve, please …” He starts to move his hips, trying to push back on Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, Honey. Wait, wait, wait.” Steve swallows dryly and grabs his waist as he tries not to lose control. “H-hang on, hang on,” he pants, eyes squeezing shut. “Ohfuck.” He hasn’t gotten laid in a long time, and it’s been years since he’s fucked an omega, let alone one he cares about as much as Bucky. He’d forgotten how amazing they feel. “Oh, Bucky,” he breathes, folding back over him to cover him with his bulk. “Bucky, Baby, you’re perfect.” He nuzzles into the curve of his neck, mouthing at his glands and inhaling the rich scent of omega—his omega, the boy he’s about to claim. “Fuck, Honey. I love you, you know that? So beautiful.”

Bucky mewls happily and squirms underneath his weight. “Love you, Steve, please. I’m ready. I’m ready.”

Steve growls and pulls his hips back, then ruts into him. Their skin claps together as he starts up a slow, deep pace; pulling out only halfway and fucking back into him hard and firm, their balls knocking together on every thrust. Bucky keens and tries to move with him, but there's not much he can do besides take it. He tips his head to bear his neck, whispering a quiet, “Alpha,” as Steve rocks them together. “Alpha, please, I'm ready.”

Steve seals his mouth to Bucky’s swollen glands and sucks hard. His teeth ache with the urge to bite down, and the sounds Bucky makes have his cock swelling larger, his knot catching a little more with every thrust. He realizes he’s going to come sooner than he’d like. “Buck,” he rasps, “I’m close. Gonna knot you, okay? Gonna bond you.”

Bucky keens hysterically and nods, desperate tears clogging his voice as he shoves his hips back and cries, “Alpha, alpha, alpha.”

Steve growls and slips a hand under his belly, finding his cocklet and rubbing it between his fingers. “Come on, Sweetheart,” he grits. “Want to feel you cum on my cock. One more time, come on, gimme one more.”

Bucky sobs and nods as he tips into his third orgasm. With Steve’s swelling knot inside, it’s stronger than the others, his body locking down and finding a true release from being filled. Steve smells it first, and then groans at the huge gush of slick that floods between them in a hot, sticky mess. “Oh yeah,” he groans, his knot popping fully. “Fuck, baby, you just squirted. F-ffuck …” He ruts harder, knot tugging deliciously on Bucky's rim again and again. The tight band of pleasure in his belly finally snaps, and he starts to come.

That’s when he finally, finally opens his mouth and sinks his teeth in. He feels the glands burst in his mouth, tastes blood and Bucky and mate. He growls furiously and fucks him hard, his knot tug-tug-tugging on Bucky’s rim.  

Bucky squeals and shudders through another orgasm that surpasses even the last. His release squirts in a hot gush between them, all over Steve’s groin and belly, and his turgid little cocklet spurts in Steve's hand as he loses control of his bladder. “Nnnnh!” 

“ ‘mega,” Steve growls, releasing the bite to seal his mouth over the wound and suck. Bucky wails, contracts into another orgasm, and pisses himself a little more. Steve’s lost in a cloud of bliss, physical pleasure and mental euphoria overwhelming his senses completely. He grunts and growls against Bucky’s skin, smearing blood on his shoulder and squirt between their bodies, humping and humping and not stopping. It goes on for long minutes, he isn't sure how many, but he’s vaguely aware of Bucky beneath him, dribbling and crying and shuddering in tiny little aftershocks as they ride out their tie together.

They collapse flat on the bed, hips still working in tiny movements. In the blankets, Steve slides his hand over the back of Bucky's and threads their fingers together. Bucky gives a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement, feeling blissed out and safe.

—and that, right there: Safe. That's the first time Steve feels the bond. Bucky is so incredibly happy and safe. The realization brings tears to Steve's eyes.

Finally, they’re connected. Bucky is his mate.

A.N.: I've had some asks about this fic , requesting extra ending scenes, so I'll likely swing back around at some point and add more parts to the epilogue, but for now this is the official ending. Hope y'all enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

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[midnightsun-if]

the reactions of the ros to the scenario of mc forgetting to smooch them were so good, all of them ugh <3 Sloane had me laughing the most to myself... they're so dramatic and sulky PLS LMAO the wet dog energy is so real, Sloane deserves all the smooches in the world.

If you could, would it be possible for you to give us the reactions of the ros that didn't take the initiate to get their smooch if mc suddenly barged in the room minutes later to kiss them and be like "I almost forgot, have a good day <3" before leaving once more.

We need justice for Sloane, C and Caden especially ("the absence of your presence, of the kiss that you always bestowed onto them, more stifling than they’d ever believed it could be" was beautifully written but it had me sad AAAA)

Sloane absolutely does have wet dog energy. They’re an angry individual because of various things that’ve happened to them, and it being one of the only ways they were able to express themself, but they always predominantly get more angry at themself than they do other people. It’s something that’ll they will try to work on and slowly begin to cope with— a journey that I’m excited to start.

Follow up to this ask.

Koda:

At the smile you offer him return, a weight is lifted from his chest. He wasn’t sure if his return kiss plan would work out, even his most simplest of plans never did, but the sight of your joy more than made up for all his failures in the past.

“Thank you, Koda.” In return you press a brief kiss to his lips, warmed by his unceasing care for you. “I appreciate it. I’m sorry that I forgot, I’m just running late in meeting Blake.”

Koda beams down at you, nose nuzzling against yours. “That’s alright, Anon. It just means I’ll have to kiss you more every time you forget.”

Scarlett:

At your continued silence, a saccharine smile flits across her lips, emerald eyes flashing merrily in a way that’d spell for trouble for anyone that wasn’t you. With natural born grace, Scarlett easily maneuvers to her feet to make her way closer to you. “Playing coy now, sweet thing?” She tsks, brow furrowed disapprovingly. “Tell me, my beloved, what did you forget that’s so important.”

Your head tilts, eyes watching the subtle movements of her body. “Your kiss?”

Scarlett hums. “And I had such fun things planned for later.” Taking your chin between two fingers, the phantom press of her lips against yours being all that’s offered before she vanishes from your presence altogether. You’re only able to blink owlishly, the sight of your girlfriend once again reclined elegantly, being all that fills your vision. “Run along now, my beloved. You clearly have a busy day to get to, I won’t keep you any longer. Though, make no mistake, tonight you’re mine.”

Cyrus/Cyra:

Looking at the facts, as it turned out, didn’t help in the slightest, not when their feelings for you were so astronomically out of the realm of possibility, something that could never truly be understood or properly identified due to how large it was. They tried to hold onto the simple fact that it hadn’t happened with malicious intent, that everyone was allowed an off day, but that didn’t stop their inner self, their Phoenix, from squawking in protest at not being able to feel their mate.

So when you return, slightly out of breath, they try to pretend like everything’s fine, that their heart hadn’t leapt at the sight of your return, but they couldn’t deny that their inner flame roared back to life at the feel of your lips pressed to theirs; the whispered apology you offer once pulling back being lost in the white noise it causes.

Their reaction may not have been within the realm of reason, at least not when it comes to their usual ones, but when had love ever been?

Quinn:

They huff to themself, looking back down at their haul. It had been a surprise they wanted to gift to you, knowing how stressed you had been with your exams coming up, even fighting down the urge to gag when they bought fresh blood suckers, because you needed something to settle yourself with.

“Oh well,” they mutter, shoulders slightly slumped. “I’ll just put these in their room and hope they’ll be back to enjoy them soon.”

As if summoning you with their mind, you’re suddenly right in front of them, bringing an immediate smile to their lips, before your own cover them. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing another fleeting kiss to their lips. “I’ve been in such a hurry I forgot to give you this.”

The arm around your waist tightens. “It’s well worth the wait.”

Caden:

Like a beacon of light and warmth, you suddenly reappear once more, fighting against the darkness, and the coldness it brings, as you come closer. The apologetic look on your face tells them all they need to know as why you returned and, for the briefest of moments, they feel guilt well within their gut. Had you somehow understood their mood? Were you going to be late now because of them? They’d never wish for you to get in trouble because of them.

However, the moment your lips press gently to their own, those thoughts and feelings slip from their mind completely, only being able to focus on you. At the feeling of completion they now felt slotting into place within their unbeating heart— a feeling that almost made them feel like they were alive once more.

Sloane:

“I completely spaced,” you say, rushing back into the room towards Sloane, eyes wide in apology. “I was in such a rush I forgot to give you a kiss.”

Sloane, for their part, is completely floored that you remembered, that you’d care enough to turn back and rectify a wrong that shouldn’t even be as big of a deal that it was. Of course they would. I’m important to them, it wasn’t done maliciously, you overgrown fur-bag. They barely respond when you place a delicate kiss to their lips, still too embroiled in their thoughts, but their arms flex instinctively when you try to pull away. Just wanting to hold you for a second longer. And, for the moment, they’re able to forget the demons that lurk in the shadows of their mind, not think about them, when in the face of your beautiful light.

Blake:

“I actually forgot to give you a kiss?”

The apologetic look and tone brings a tender smile to Blake’s lips, one finger gently running a path down your cheek. “A mistake I was certain was just that. I mean look at me.” They playfully wriggle their brows, tongue peeking out from between their teeth. “How could you not want to kiss this?”

At your playful eye roll, and exasperated huff, a weight is lifted from their shoulders, even if they’d never showcase it. Good, they think. I don’t like it when you’re sad, and you wouldn’t be. Not if I ever have anything to say about.

Reginald/Regina:

“I’m so sorry.”

Your sudden reappearance near them, after the relative silence that had settled over the dorm, almost causes them to fling their book into the air, a surprised yelp just barely stifled in the back of their throat. At your apologetic gaze, they’re suddenly reminded of what exactly had been forgotten— by the both of you it seems. And, due to that, they lean forward just as you do. Trying to, without words, show how sorry they were for forgetting something so important, something that made them feel a bit more at home in a world that wanted to be anything but.

Something that finally made them feel like they belonged.

[transmothofaman]

Batfam AU

Okay so I have only come across one or two reverse!robin posts and don’t know how original these takes are. But whilst weeding i couldn’t help but think about the Batfam’s dynamics and how that would be altered, so I decided to dump a few hcs below (in order of appearance):

1. Duke Thomas: On paper, not much of his origin story really changes. Still has powers, is still Signal, still led something akin to the We Are Robin movement (except it wouldn’t be called that, because ‘Robin’ doesn’t exist yet), and still is part of The Outsiders. He is the first superhero/vigilante to really work with Batman on a regular basis, which of course is a struggle in of itself. He’s no sidekick by any means, but his help when needed becomes vital to Batman and helps the bat become more lenient to working with people.

2. Damian Al-Ghul Wayne: while Damian would have no older siblings constantly at the manor to be jealous of, I think his snobby attitude of instantaneously deserving the Batman mantle is something he still struggles with. He doesn’t really come up with a hero code-name for himself early on in his career (he thinks it’s beneath him); but goons and innocent civilians alike make comments about how he’s always lurking in the shadows and nickname him The Shadow. The nickname sticks, and many a joke can be made about Batman and his Shadow. (if anyone has a better hero name for Damian pls let me know)

3. Cassandra Cain (Wayne): her backstory and such remains the same, except she’s the one who created the mantle of Batgirl (which, of course, looks different from Barabra Gordon’s original batgirl). She’s the first of Bruce Wayne’s adopted children, and I personally don’t think their bond would differ any more than it would from canon. Because she’s introduced earlier in B’s life and can bring out a softer side of the dark knight, Batman’s relationship with the kids that follow are slightly shifted.

4. Timothy Drake: meets Batman because he kept trespassing on Wayne Manor property. Tim has been stalking Batman, figured out his identity, and wants to fill in the vacant spot left by a recently departed Damian [who either A) went rogue B) went off to partner with Jon or C) formed his version of the teen titans, dealer’s choice]. Batman, while comfortable enough with having Batgirl and Signal as assistance covering patrols or messy cases, is at first hesitant to have another constant “sidekick”, but eventually comes around to the idea. Tim would have his own cool name but I’m not that creative.

I didn’t want to dump Jason’s trauma on Tim now that he becomes the second son, but narratively I do think he would’ve ended up dying as well (if so, it’s because Joker Junior was fatal). Yes he ofc comes back, probably angry, but Tim is NOT Jason and will have different reactions/ ways to cope with that.

5. Stephanie Brown : Steph gets introduced mid-Tim’s sidekick run. I don’t think her lore would change much really, you’re doing great sweetie.

6. Jason Todd: Jason meets Batman the same way he meets him in canon, except this time Batman’s trying to cope with loosing Tim and his failed partnership with Stephanie (she’s killing it as Cass’ partner though), but decides to recruit and later adopt Jason anyways. Jason would take on Tim’s old mantle, but I think he would eventually carve out his own vigilante identity when he got older. He still becomes Red Hood after a very rough falling out with Bruce, but like in canon they’re slowly able to rebuild their relationship.

7. Dick Grayson: our boy wonder gets introduced in the same manor as in canon, he just does it later when Bruce has already gotten a bunch of kids. He still creates the outfit and mantle of Robin, and becomes Batman’s new main partner-in-crime fighting.

8. Barbara Gordon: Her overall dynamic with the other bats would change from canon (it would be her looking up to Cass and Steph rather than the other way around). I think she and Dick would have the same dynamic as in The Batman (2004).

I haven’t read every bat-related comic ever and would love to hear any thoughts/suggested changes you all have! Thanks for reading this monstrosity of a post!

[cloudybuck]

9-1-1 8x07 thoughts

not that anyone asked but he’s my rant about the episode because it’s been a few days and i get more and more upset the more i think about it.

i’ve seen a lot of people complain about how brad and matthew got too much screen time. i agree to an extent. i think we should be focused on eddie and chris as that’s the biggest storyline but i also think focusing on brad is important depending on what happens this week.

in season 5, we got a lot of screen time with jonah. why? because he was important! imagine if they didn’t set all of that up and it came out of nowhere— that’s shitty storytelling. they have to focus on brad right now if what’s coming has to do with him.

now matthew. . . *angry shakes* what? so you’re telling me you’re going to introduce a new character— a probie— have athena be completely against the idea/him, make him bad, and then have her change her mind and ask for one? why not just give her *that* guy? it feels like a complete waste of a character! i think it would’ve been so much more fun if we got to see him be all power hungry and then be taken down a notch and have athena take him under her wing rather than waste him like that! what was the pooooint? it felt like backtracking.

the lightning strike callback. i wasn’t expecting them to do anything with it considering all they did for the well was have bobby make a joke abt eddie not being able to fit this time. i wasn’t expecting anything so i don’t really care but at the same time, you have these callbacks and you’re not going to anything with them? literally one line from any of the 118 would’ve made a huge difference! you had the well, then the lightning strike, and the guy with the rebar stuck in his head! HELLO!!! give me anyyyything!

my pros; ryan talked about eddie being “childlike”- oh i can see it! him goofing off with buck and his phone (buck asking bobby for help like a little kid hehe), eddie jumping over the couch when buck says it’s time for lunch, eddie filming bobby and brad at the end. then we got that scene of athena and hen!!!! i’ve missed their talks so much UGHHH I WAS SO HAPPY!! buck being in a baking frenzy to cope with his heartbreak and maddie and chimney handing jee over to him— buck finding out about them being pregnant?! looooved that!!!! i loved how much bobby was such a dad in this episode like again, with buck and the phone, and then again with the waitress. i loved that we got to see the characters we didn’t get in episode 6 since that was so focused on buck and eddie with a little sprinkle of madney.

i’m not very good at saying i don’t like something when i’m a fan of it. i feel like i’d be called a fake fan or whatever but i’m trying to get better at it. i love 9-1-1. i love all the characters (i do have a favorite though) and i get so happy when i see them because ***UGHHH*** i loooove them! it makes me so sad when they’re not being used to their full potential and being cast aside when their stories are impoooortant! this episode was very meh to me.

i was talking to my mom about my disappointment and she said it’s because i went into it expecting too much. not at all! i wasn’t expecting anything from the episode but i also wasn’t expecting nothing.