#I imagine this has to do with the year turning over but like. should've thought of that earlier

[clonerightsagenda]

In their latest attempt to test my goddamn patience, the beloathed management company requested my signature on a contract amendment with no explanatory email or conversation. Just sent me the document, which adds a termination fee and removes our ability to negotiate price increases. Incredibly bold move given I found out 3 business days ago that they haven't been paying any of our bills, which, while not being their one job, is definitely up there. I am not signing that shit. Should've thought about that before you had me sign a contract that's binding until October 31 of next year. Want to argue about it? See you tomorrow. With my skull.

[effervescentwolf]

"No one believes me," Buck complains when Eddie picks up the phone, "when I say that I'm not in love with you."

Eddie's heart drops. Then, like his stomach isn't still in his throat, like he doesn't feel out of his body for no reason at all, "Hey, Buck." He gestures, imagines Buck's hands waving around as he talks. "Hi, Eddie. How's the house?" Then, back to himself, "Finally unpacked most of my stuff. How's your unpacking going?"

"I don't get it," Buck continues morosely like he didn't even hear Eddie. He sounds a little like a kicked puppy, and there's a fond little feeling tugging at Eddie's chest. It feels good to feel that again, even though it hasn't been that long yet.

Yet.

But it still feels like something familiar in this unfamiliar house, familiar in a way all of Eddie's worldly possessions don't either. The closest he got to comfort were Christopher's things, and then the things Buck has bought him over the years. The rest felt—impersonal.

"You told them I'm straight?" Eddie says, and there's that other feeling again, the one that makes him feel like he's missed a step when walking, like his feet are being swept right out from under him.

"That's what I said," Buck says, glum. "Even Tommy—"

"Tommy?" Eddie repeats, brows drawing together, warmth in his chest snapping shut, like turning a key in a lock, like there's something closing up.

"Yeah, I—" Buck starts and stops. "I—I ran into him the other night when I was out with Ravi, and—"

"You were out with Ravi? Didn't think you two had much in common," Eddie says, not sure why he asks or why he says it, not sure what he wants to know. Buck didn't tell him that though, and it feels almost like panic for a second, except Eddie doesn't panic, and Buck isn't—Buck is his best friend. Buck just... hadn't told him yet.

"Yeah, Maddie said I needed to make friends so—" Buck groans. "Why is this so hard?"

He's whining. Eddie smiles despite himself, fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "Never really needed to," he says absently.

"I know! And I'm fine being alone—uh, not that I'm alone," Buck immediately backtracks, still doing that thing of stepping around Eddie to protect him.

"Buck," is all Eddie has to say.

"But I can't sleep in your house and pretend," Buck says, and now it's an outpour, "It doesn't feel like my house. Even when I—I hooked up with Tommy here, and—"

"What?" Eddie says, and he thinks the only thing keeping him standing is the way he's about to shatter his phone with his grip, so tight it hurts, fingers numb, mouth dry, heart pounding. "Buck, why would you—"

"I know, I know," Buck replies hastily, "I won't do it again. I thought it was—I mean I didn't want to be alone, but he asked me—he thought I was in love with you," he rounds out, sounding small, and Eddie has to swallow two times before he can even say anything. Buck beats him to it, still on a roll. "I guess he was... jealous? I get it, I guess."

Eddie's lips are numb now. He still feels a flicker of something vindictive, a little bit of satisfaction. That's what he gets for breaking Buck's heart, he thinks. Should've stayed away in the first place. "You get it," he repeats anyway.

"Yeah, I mean—you know," Buck says, hesitant, and Eddie can see him so clearly it hurts, see the way his face scrunches up, the way he shrugs and turns his shoulders inward like he's trying to hide, just a little. "We're—close. We're—you know. You and me."

"Yeah," Eddie says. He's not choked up, not really, but he's so grateful for everything he has, and he's just—he's glad he has Buck. He misses him, and he's glad for him. If he has to blink back tears, there's no one to witness it. "Me and you."

Buck doesn't respond for an eternity. "I just miss you," he says eventually, soft.

"Not in love with me, though?" Eddie has to ask, and he doesn't know why.

Buck laughs a little, sheepish. "Not in love with you," he says, and what he should sound is relieved, but he sounds nervous, mostly.

What Eddie should be is relieved. But it takes him another eternity to realize he's not that, and he's not breathing either, and then he inhales and the world keeps going, and Buck is still on the other end of the phone, and he thinks there's a very tiny part of him, something hidden away in a corner, something that he hasn't dared touch, that wonders what it would have been like in another world and another conversation where he wasn't the tiniest bit, guiltily, disappointed.

[phoenix-art-official]

Inspired by i could imagine the end of the world and nothing else by cottonmouthcandy on Ao3 (link in reblogs)

“Couldn’t talk for a month after I got out of that goddamned city. Just clammed up. Started sweatin’ like I was hunted every time I opened my mouth.”

What if there was no hang fire?

"WHO IS IT? HAVE YOU COME TO STEAL MY EYES?!" 

Stan looks surprised, then his face falls. He waves. 

"... Stanley? Is that you?" Ford grabs him and shines a light in his eyes. 

Stan winces and tries to shove Ford off of him. 

"Apologies, I just had to make sure you weren't... nevermind. Come in, come in." 

Stan follows Ford into the shack, looking around judgementally as Ford paces. 

"Did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?" 

Bemused, Stan shakes his head. 

"Good, good. I appreciate you coming so quickly. There's not much time. I've made huge mistakes, and I don't know who I can trust anymore." He turns the head of a skeleton to look away. Stan raises an eyebrow, perturbed. 

Stan steps forward to place a hand on Ford's shoulder, and his jaw works as he wants to say something... but even now, the words stay caught in his throat. Instead he just squeezes in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. 

Ford sighs. "Right, I... I should explain myself. Follow me. What I'm about to show you is... something you can't even imagine." 

Stan nods and gestures for Ford to lead on. 

They make their way downstairs. Ford is too caught up in his own head to notice how silent Stan is being. 

When they get to the portal, Stan is actually speechless. Ford takes this as his sign to begin a monologue. 

You and I both know how this next part goes, so I'll do you a favor and skip to the good part. The part where Ford tells him to sail away.

Stan's face falls, then turns angry. He wants to shout, to scream, but he still can't seem to get even a frustrated grunt past his lips. Instead, he just shoves the journal back at Ford. 

"What the- Stanley! Be reasonable! All I'm asking for is one single favor! I haven't asked you for anything in over ten years, the least you can do for me is make sure the world doesn't come to ruin!" 

Stan just shakes his head. In his fury, a single syllable forces its way out of him. 

"You-!"

And just like that, his jaw clamps down again. His hand finds its way to cover his mouth. He can't do it. No matter how angry and hurt he is, he's still too terrified. Too broken.

Ford doesn't catch Stan's inner turmoil. "I what? Go on then! What's the first thing you have to say to me in over a decade? After everything you did, after you ruined my life, what could you possibly have left to say to me?" 

Stan has so much to say. Too much. So much that he can't even make his voice work, just like he hasn't in over a year. It hurts too much. 

Ford waits, and when Stan doesn't say anything, scoffs bitterly. "Right. Of course not. That's what I thought. More the fool I was for thinking I still had one person left in the world I could trust." 

Stan stops at that. It hurts more than words can say. 

Ford turns back, a new pleading look in his eye. "If you truly won't help me, I... Stanley, I don't have any idea what I'll do. We have our resentments, but this is bigger than that. Bigger than either of us. This could destroy reality as we know it. I don't expect you to understand it, but I at least want you to..." 

Ford sighs again, rubbing his eyes furiously. He looks so tired. "Of course, I shouldn't have bothered. None of this means anything to you, does it? It never has. You only ever saw me as your ticket to success. That's why you still have nothing to say to me." His voice grows hardened, resentful. "You've always been a coward and a liar. I can't believe I was so desperate as to reach out to you. No matter how dire the circumstances, I should've known I could never trust-" 

Stan's fist connects with Ford's jaw. He folds like a house of cards. He struggles upright, surprised at Stan's seething expression. 

Stan breathes heavily. He's shaking. His jaw works, but he still can't make himself speak. Ford waits for him to say something, anything. 

Stan opens his mouth to speak, and he almost manages- an odd, squeaky, hoarse noise comes out of his throat. But that's all. So he just turns around and walks away. 

Ford watches him go, heart sinking into his stomach. He looks at the journal in his hands and wonders what he's going to do now. 

"Wait-" 

Stan stops dead. He didn't expect that. He turns back. 

Ford doesn't know how to ask this, but he has to. "... If you're leaving, just- at least take this with you." He holds out the journal. "I can't keep it. I- I can't be trusted with it. It's not safe here, not with me, not with anyone else." 

Stan actually considers it now. Ford seems so terrified and desperate. But is this really all Stan is good for? 

Ford swallows his pride just a little more. "... Please?" 

Stan is shocked. Neither of them ever say please. Pa always said that was for sissies- real men take what they want. And yet, here they are, and Ford is asking. 

It hurts to know this is all Stan means to him, but he can't find it in himself to say no. 

Stan takes the journal. 

Ford heaves a sigh of relief so potent he nearly topples over. "Thank you." 

Stan just nods. He doesn't know if he feels like leaving now, though. Ford seems fragile. It worries him. 

Ford doesn't catch it. "... Well. I suppose that's it then. You're... free to go." 

Stan just keeps staring at him. He looks awful. It's much harder to leave now that the anger has faded a bit. 

"... What?" 

Stan isn't sure what. He gestures with one hand at Ford. 

Ford just blinks. Utterly bemused. "I... um..." 

Stan rolls his eyes and repeats the gesture more emphatically. 

"... I don't... what are you doing?" 

Stan sighs and looks around. Luckily, he spies what he needs on a nearby desk. Ford watches, dumbstruck, as Stan retrieves a pen and notepad. Then when Stan is finished scribbling, the note is shoved in his face. 

You gonna be okay?

"... I... Stanley, what's going on?" 

Stan shakes the note. 

"Yes, I read it, I just- why are you- I don't understand-" Ford's breath catches. His eyes go wide and he lowers his voice. "Are we being listened to?" 

Stan's shoulders slump. He shakes his head and writes something else. 

Pretty sure I wasn't followed.

"Then- then what? Why are you..." It's Ford's turn to gesture vaguely at his twin. "This?"

Ouch. Ford probably didn't mean it that way, but still. 

Stan chews on the inside of his cheek. He doesn't want to reveal how broken he is now, but Ford just isn't getting it. He can't bring himself to look at Ford when he hands over the next note. 

Can't talk.

Ford stares at the message. It doesn't compute. "... I don't..." He tries to meet Stan's eyes. His gaze is avoided. "Why not?" 

Stan hesitates before writing again. 

Just can't.

"No, clearly you can. Or at least to a degree." Ford's eyes flicker over Stan's body. "Your mouth and layrnx still seem functional... No one is listening to us... Are you cursed somehow?" 

Stan almost laughs, except it's been even longer since he did that than it has since he's spoken. 

Something like that.

Ford's brow furrows. "That isn't an answer. Why can't you speak?" 

Stan underlines his earlier message. Just can't.

"No, you can," Ford insists. "You always could for as long as I can remember. It was harder to get you to shut up sometimes. Why have you decided to stop now? Is this a recent development?" 

Stan really wants to walk away now. But he knows Ford will just follow him. Not that recent. Didn't decide. Just can't. He underlines the last word several times. 

Ford looks even more frustrated when he reads that. "If if isn't voluntary, how is it that you're still capable of speech, in the mechanical sense? Is it... neurological somehow? What was it that F mentioned..." He rubs his eyes again, even rougher than before. Before Stan can write anything else, he snaps his fingers. "Expressive aphasia! It can be caused by a traumatic brain injury. You appear otherwise unaffected though. Have you experienced any extreme head trauma?" 

Stan shakes his head incredulously. Well, he's been clobbered a few times, but he always ended up fine afterwards. No stupider than he was before. 

"Are you sure? Because I can't think of anything else that would..." Ford slowly starts to piece something together. He looks cautiously at Stan. "Except..." 

Stan shifts uncomfortably. He shrugs, as if to say, What?

Ford just stares at him, as if seeing him for the first time. He swallows. "It's just that... the only other cause I can think of is psychological trauma." 

Stan snorts. He can't help it. He shrugs in a, well, what can you do? gesture. 

Ford looks horrified, the drama queen. "... Really?" 

Stan rolls his eyes, then gestures to himself. I mean, look at me. Then he gestures at Ford. You don't look too good yourself.

"I- no, I'm fine," Ford defends in a very-not-fine tone of voice. "And you- you're supposed to be... that doesn't make sense. None if this makes sense..." He rubs at his face almost violently, skewing his glasses. "Stupid brain, just work for a minute here..." 

On instinct, Stan steps forward to take his hands and stop him. Ford flinches back. They stare at each other for a moment. 

Stan raises an eyebrow. Fine, huh?

Ford sighs. "That... it's been some time since I've slept and I'm a little jumpy. Like I said, I've made... terrible mistakes." He shudders. 

Stan looks at him with new understanding. He crosses his arms and gestures for Ford to continue. 

He frowns darkly. "There is a being of unimaginable power that seeks to use me to bring about the end of the world." 

Stan doesn't even blink. Just waits for him to keep talking. 

He does. "He takes over my body when I sleep. I've been able to hold him off so far, but only barely. If he gets his hands on my journals, is able to activate the portal..." He puts his hands on Stan's shoulders. "Stanley, it would be the end of the world." 

Stan raises an eyebrow. Another note: He?

"Bi-" and this time it's Ford who clams up. He shakes his head. "It- it's not safe to invoke his name. What's important is that he is an entity with infinite knowledge and access to my mind and body at any time." His eyes are wide, afraid. "I was a fool to ever trust him." 

Stan softens. He understands that, at least. He writes: You got conned.

Ford considers that and nods gravely. "I suppose I did." Uncharacteristic shame colors him. "Hook, line, and sinker, as it were." 

Stan studies him for a moment. Then, determined, he writes: He gonna hurt you?

Ford is stunned at that, a little vulnerable. "That- that's not important." 

Stan shakes his head emphatically. Points at the note. 

"Probably, yes, but again, that's not-" 

Stan lifts a hand to stop him. Miraculously, he does. Stan thinks for a second, then writes: Not leaving.

Ford's face falls. "What? No, you can't stay here, I just told you-" 

While Ford was speaking, Stan finished another note, and he shoves it in Ford's face. 

You're my brother. And below it, pressed so hard into the paper it almost tears, Not leaving you.

Ford can only stare at the words. "But..." 

Stan cuts him off with another wave of his hand. This time he writes for much longer. Ford waits. 

You look half dead. Don't wanna lose you. Don't care if you don't wanna see me. You. Need. Help.

Ford can't think of anything to say to that. For once, all he can think is that maybe Stan is right. 

So, eventually, tentatively, shakily, he nods. "Okay," he croaks. "Okay. What do we do?" 

Stan offers a smile. Then he wrinkles his nose. Shower first. You stink.

Ford mirrors him. "Well, you don't exactly smell pleasant either." 

Tooshay. Upstairs?

"Not how it's spelled," Ford mutters. Still, he considers the words for a moment. Looks back. Looks at the journal in Stan's hands, then behind him at the elevator. 

"... Alright."

[saeun]

food for thought, except it’s unwanted jujutsu kaisen : fem-reader.

have you ever wondered about a scenario so much that you must ask? well that’s exactly the last thing they’d wish to answer.

+ love ‘su: gojo, geto, itadori + ‘live, laugh, love’ hater final boss ( sukuna )

gojo satoru ﾉ refuses to answer.

“do you ever think about how it’d be if we never met?”

“ha— no. don’t even go there.”

satoru stops you there. he doesn’t wish to hear another word from you— especially if it extends your former question. he thinks about it— daily, in fact. it's a scenario that crosses his mind whenever he finds himself drunk on the temporary love he receives from you.

you’ve sung the lyric ‘i’ll love you until there’s no more left’ almost every week for him, silently begging that he gets the concept of genuine love through his head.

“why not? imagine if my friends didn’t make that bet where i either hit on you or pay for the night.” you reminisced, remembering the very night you lost the last touch of shame.

he hums, drumming his fingers on your thigh.

“bet or not, we’d still be fated to meet. next question!”

“anddd what makes you so confident?” you threw another question at him. this time, it's lighthearted.

“mind you, i’m the second coming of an angel. i predetermined this since three years ago.”

glances were exchanged, an expression of a grinning fool met the expression of a glaring responsible person who’s the said fool’s other romantic half.

you should've been familiar with satoru’s ways. it’s your fault for expecting a deep-dive conversation with satoru. not quite his cup of tea!

geto suguru ﾉ expects it and tries to escape.

suguru's home was no new, unexplored area to you. you knew his home's blueprint like the back of your hand. if needed, you'd walk through his home blindfolded and still end up in the room you want to be in.

this isn't a good thing to suguru. there are days where the feeling of confusion as to who he is piles up on him, leading him to isolate himself.. until he forgets there's a spare key of his isolation cube in your hold so now the plan goes awry.

that is exactly what’s happening. after he sent the text ‘k bye’ and silenced his notifications, he felt an impending doom. the reason was unknown by then but he should've guessed it was you.

you marched into his home, readying yourself with suguru-loneliness-begone techniques and, of course, the question that's been wandering your mind since you woke up from a dream.

“babe, what if—”

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, too exhausted to put a hand over your mouth.

“what if we were the last persons on earth? would you recreate humanity with me or kill yourself?”

there it is: your special ‘what if’ questions that know no bounds when it comes to absurdity.

“when would that ever happen? please, stop this,” he groans, pleading with his eyes for you to stop.

“that's the thing— you never know! so, what option is it?”

“i'd kill myself a long time ago if possible.”

“so it's the second one?”

“i'm... not cut out to be a good father.”

“i hate an indecisive bitch, my goodness,” it's your turn to complain, a little let down at his grey answers.

suguru's equally offended. you're the one who jumped him with such a question— who even thinks about that?!

“(y/n), baby, has it ever crossed your mind that your thinking skills aren't quite normal?”

“are you calling me stupid?!”

itadori yuuji ﾉ just as stupid.

it's mango season— yuuji's most anticipated season of the year. mangoes are to yuuji what your lipbalm is to you. a necessity, a survival item, a lifesaver, an important part of his lore, something he worships.

peeling mangoes and slicing them to equal pieces has never brought him such satisfaction before. it immediately brightens his mood. this must be how his grandfather felt whenever he took a walk around the neighbourhood.

now you appear, yuuji's second most anticipated person. you to yuuji is what mangoes are to him. this causes yuuji's current happiness level to reach its peak today. such a great level of happiness can defeat any evil being with just being in its area.

“say, yuu,” you begin, stabbing one of the mangoe slices with a fork.

he nods, signalling that he's listening but still focused on his current activity. a true mulit-tasker.

“if one of your limbs happen to detach from your body, do you feel the pain or does the pain go with it?”

he stops, allowing the question to sink in. he's never been asked such a.. divine question before. what's the answer? does the pain go with the limb or does it stay?

“oh... i gotta ask nobara this, she'd know,” he suggests, placing the knife down. a question that'll haunt him if he doesn't act quick for the answer.

“yes, yes!!” you encourage his actions, mindlessly enjoying the mango slices. mangoes are truly a blessing.

sukuna ryomen ﾉ no. nice try, though! A+ for effort.

“ryo, have you ever wondered if—”

“no, i never.”

“you didn't even let—”

“i haven't learnt since two-thousand years ago.”

“you old fuck, let me finish—”

“it's truly been a while since i've wondered.”

“DAMN, BITCH!”

you threw the remote at him, ultimately fed up with him cutting you off before the peak of the sentence. it could've been the question of the year and he'd still dodge it.

sukuna invited himself over since he ran out of entertainment options and you're always there for him. unfortunately, you do not find him as entertainin. he's annoying, arrogant, and attractive so it cancels out the negatives about him.

of course, sukuna caught the remote. his athletic capabilities are its prime despite him being dormant for centuries. it'd be a white lie to say he's not interested in your question, however it is way more benefitting to push your buttons.

he throws the remote back onto your bed, drying his hands with your hand-towel before making his merry way to you.

“your bed's small.”

“well no shit. it's for ME.”

“you mad? you look mad.” his hand holds your chin, turning your head side-to-side to observe your expression.

you rolled your eyes, “i don't get mad that easily.”

“is this how people felt when i told them an obvious lie? i should repent.”

[two-white-butterflies]

by the sea | legolas of greenwood

Description: You have a reputation for being reckless. What happens when you do something that finally makes Legolas snap?

Pairing: soldier!reader/legolas

A/N: I fought all my demons to write the fight scene. This was requested.

It was a perfect day; the sun was warm and the winds blew cold.

It was a day of adventure!

"I thought that days like these were lost to the darkness." You laid on the warm green grass, feeling the litter kisses on your exposed skin. "I missed the summer," you moaned - closing your eyes for a second.

You open your eyes, and his piercing blue ones meet yours.

"When we were elflings, we used to run around these same gardens with our naneths chasing after us." Legolas chuckles, reminiscing your childhood days.

In your shared youth, every day used to be summer - always filled with warmth and happiness, never imagining for a moment that days like that could be stolen away.

"I wish we could return to those days before the darkness." Your voice suddenly turned mellow. You try to hide this feeling, but it always returns - the darkness shivers our bones, and you know that he feels it too, in fact stronger than you do.

"Those days will return, mellon." He shuffles closer, until your bodies were merely inches away - both of you ignoring the stares from the passersby, no doubt, finding it strange that their prince was laying on the ground beside one of the King's guards.

He gives a deeper smile, and you scoot even closer.

You know what that smile means, he's about to say something clever. "They say that when you believe that something belongs to you, the entire world conspires for you to have it by your side." He whispers, flicking a strand of your hair away from your face.

"- there are a million things that I've been longing for, but the world has not given me anything - not once." Your eyes narrowed, and he laughs, aware that you were toying with him. "If you want it with all of your heart then it shall be given." He answers.

"Are you saying that I do not want anything with all of my heart?"

"Need I repeat myself?"

"Everyday, I pray to Eru Illuvatar that the darkness is vanquished."

"Maybe, it is in the works, mellon." He breathes, letting go of the banter. Mayhaps, he was praying for the exact same thing. "- enough of that talk. Are you prepared for our patrols next week?"

You are one of the greatest warriors in the King's army, the elves endearingly called you 'the Green Knight' for despite your command with the sword, you had a single flaw - your recklessness, your greenness, your innocence.

In the caprice of your youth - you currently believe that there is nothing in this world that can defeat you.

You are wrong.

"I can't believe that your father passed me over for Tauriel. I've been pining for that position and he knows it! There is nothing in this world that I want more that being Captain of the Guards." You exasperated.

Tauriel herself was shocked that she was chosen as Captain, matter of fact, she entered your chambers shortly after the ceremony saying that it should've been you. "- I love her and I celebrate her accomplishment, but my heart feels like it is ripped in half." You say.

"It is alright to feel that way, mellon. Mayhaps Ada saw a quality in her that he is yet to find inside of you." Legolas comforts, and you nod - cracking a smile. "Well there are a lot of things that Tauriel is better at," you concede defeat.

"- like shooting arrows." he teased, referring to something that happened a few years ago. "- and cleaning up after she trains." you add, and both of you share a laugh.

"I guess there are some things that I am yet to learn, but I wanted that post with all of my heart, and you told me that if I wanted something with all of my heart..."

"- then you shall get it. You will get it." he finishes the sentence.

You were about to answer but a screeching noise interrupts you. "Spiders," you note already used to that noise. You still remember your first encounter with the spiders - they were so big and violent, and you refused to harm them at first, thinking that they were part of Illuvatar's orchestra, but they weren't. Not anymore.

They were corrupted with darkness, and that darkness slowly took over the forest, leaving nothing but dust and death.

Your grip on your sword tightens, hearing more of that screeching. There were at least twenty of them judging from the sound. "Should we head back?" Legolas inquires, aware that your position in the guards is higher than his own. "I don't think that we have enough time," you whispered and he lifts your body - until you were sitting on a tree branch.

"There are fifteen to twenty of them. You should head back, while I fend them off." You surmised, it wouldn't be easy fighting this many spiders - you could break an arm but you wouldn't die, right?

It was impossible to die.

"If you are commanding me to abandon you, I won't do that." He insists, his eyes turning dark - his lips turns into a thin line. "There's only two of us Legolas. If not me, then who?" your eyes narrowed.

"You go home!" His voice raises slightly. You are taken aback by his sudden shift in tone - he was usually soft spoken with you. "I am the Captain of this patrol." Your eyebrows merged together. "- it is your duty to obey my orders." You glared, seeing the spiders begin to search for the source of the noise.

"I am your prince." He uses that card, and you roll your eyes.

"It does not matter in this operation, Legolas. Please just do what I command and we'll be rid of this problem." You pleaded, but the determined stare in his eyes does not shake off. "No." he says.

He reminds you of a child.

You ignore his disagreement and allow yourself to fall on the damp forest floor, the sound attracts the spiders and they begin marching in your direction.

All twenty of them smelling of mold and dirt. It was a nightmare, but a nightmare that you've fought with a thousand times.

You stand up, swinging at the spiders with ease.

Legolas falls down beside you, rising to his full height. "I will report your disobedience to the King himself." You threatened, annoyed at his disregard for his own safety. He does not respond to you.

He keeps silent. He fights the spiders.

When you turned to look at the next spider - it begins to lunge at you. Taking you aback with its sheer strength. "Legolas!" You yell his name, and that stare takes you by surprise. It is the same way that the King used to look at the Queen when she did something reckless.

It was a stare that you've bared witness to a million times, and now you were the recipient of it.

He cuts through the spider's stomach with ease, and the other spiders began to flee for their safety. He turns his back to you, picking up the dagger that he left on the forest floor. "Legolas," you begin taking sharp breaths - shaking off the panic that you felt.

He ignores you, again.

It has been eight hours since Legolas last spoke to you. "I don't understand why he evades me like a plague," you tilted your head - taking a sip of the wine that the King generously laid out.

"He does that when he's..." He pauses, thinking of a word that could properly explain his son's behavior. "Displeasured." He finishes.

You cross your arms in a huff.

"I've done nothing to cause him displeasure. As a matter of fact I should be the one who avoids his presence, he disobeyed my orders, my king. You would do the same thing if you were in my shoes." Your eyebrows merged together. The King responds with a chuckle.

"I cannot offer you an explaination for my son's actions. He is a being of his own. I cannot read his mind, child." He reminds.

Your frown only deepens.

What if...?

"What if he hates me forever?" You suddenly voiced out. You glance at the King and he looks unconvinced. "What ever fight you had, you must sort it out on your own. For what it is worth - I don't think that he hates you." He finished, placing a file on the table.

Directions of your next patrol.

"Take care." He swiftly reminds with a smile.

"Legolas if you are going to continue to evade me like a plague then a resolution for our problems will not come." You chased after him, but he continues walking - with his arms crossed in a huff. "I think that it is unprofessional for you to remain cross with me." You add.

He turns around to face you, a frown on his face.

"You could've died!" He raises his voice again.

Realization dawns.

"I am alive, Legolas,"

"I know that you are a great warrior, but you are reckless." He grits his teeth, anger flooding his senses once more. "It should not matter to you. I am the master of my fate, and also the captain of that patrol. You shouldn't have disobeyed me that day." You still insist.

You gaze up at him.

The sight of him with a frown on his face, him glaring at you. It breaks your heart. "Don't look at me like that," your voice breaks.

Legolas was your truest friend, there are times where you imagine yourself married to him - but that doesn't matter. Those feelings don't matter right now, because you could lose your friend! All because of what? His unwillingness to obey your orders?

"If I wasn't there, who knows what could've happened upon you?" He scowls, "- that spider could've ripped you apart. I would've lost you." he whispers the last sentence but you were able to hear. "- all of that before telling you the truth." His face suddenly softens.

"What truth?" You ask cautiously.

"I love you, meleth - and the thought of you possibly losing your life to the spiders we've dreamt of vanquishing has made me realize that I cannot live without you." He confesses, he opens his mouth again.

But you silence him with a kiss.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Lament for the living

Written for round 1 of the @steddiebingo and for the April 2025 round of the @stmonstercalendar

Prompts: Scream and Banshee

Relationship: pre-Steddie

Words: 1,168 [also on AO3]

Rated: T

Tags: Death and mourning; Irish Steve; Ghost Eddie; Canon-adjacent

Notes: I have no idea what this is but it has acquired a plot again.

Steve first learned about the family ghost on the day he saw his grandpa for the last time. Mom had stepped out of the hospital room to talk to one of the nurses and dad was somewhere downstairs, taking an important business call. Steve, eleven years old and still clinging to the childish hope that things would be alright, made smalltalk for a while, telling grandpa about school and girls and the next big game he had coming up.

“Maybe you could come,” he said. “It's still a few weeks from now, so maybe you'll be fine by then. Maybe you-”

His voice cracked, and grandpa took his hand.

“I'll be there,” he promised. “Even if you won't be able to see me.”

Steve sobbed. “Don't say that. You can't give up like that, you can still make it.”

“No, kid,” grandpa shook his head, gaze shifting to the open window, and suddenly Steve realized how very tired he looked. “It's time for me to go, I know it. I've been hearing it call to me for days now.”

Steve blinked the tears from his eyes, head whipping to the window, but there was nothing there. “What are you- … what's calling you?”

Grandpa smiled and leaned closer, the way he always did when letting him in on one of his stories. The ones about ghosts and spirits that mom didn't like.

“The banshee. It's said that all families from the old country have one. They're spirits guiding our souls from this world to the next. When you start to hear their cries, it means that your time has come.”

Steve should've been too old to believe in fairy tales, but something about the words sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Grandpa died some time that night, quicker and more quietly than the doctors had been expecting. Steve was the only one who wasn't surprised.

*

Steve first starts hearing it around the time Barb disappears. He doesn’t recognize it for what it is at first, and he doesn’t think he can be faulted for that. Sixteen is way too early to expect the herald of your imminent death, for one thing. For another, it sounds nothing like he thought it would.

He was imagining screams and shrieks and wails, a sound to make your blood freeze in your veins and your heart go numb with terror. Instead, it's singing.

A low, raspy voice carrying out of the woods behind the house. There aren't any words to the song - none that Steve can make out, at least - and still there's a beauty and sadness to it that makes his heart clench. He assumes it must be one of the neighbors, and it's only when he mentions the song to Nancy and she looks at him like he's crazy, that it slowly starts to dawn on him that what he's hearing is his own lament.

And so, when the demogorgon peels itself from the ceiling in the Byers house, he grabs a nail bat and starts swinging, because if he's going to die, he might as well die doing something worthwhile. It's what he keeps doing in the years after. Fighting off monsters in the junkyard, throwing himself between Billy Hargrove and the kids, turning himself into a human shield again and again and again. He starts losing count of how many times he comes close to the brink of death. Every time he does, the singing fades for a short while. Every time, it isn't too long before it picks back up again, louder and closer than before.

When it wakes him on an early spring night in 1986, it's just outside his window, and he knows every single note by heart.

He's also goddamn annoyed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve mutters, throwing off the covers and stomping over to the window with a bravado that probably only a person who has unexpectedly survived multiple apocalypses can muster. “Excuse me? You? Yes, you! Are we sure this is it this time around, because it's kind of getting really old!”

The singing stops. A pair of dark, startled eyes gawks at him.

Steve gawks back. He isn't quite sure what he imagined the banshee to look like, but he knows it wasn't this. The guy looks almost shockingly normal. Roughly his own age, with a mop of dark curls falling over bony shoulders and full, pink lips that are now lightly parted in surprise. If Steve saw him in the street, he probably wouldn't give him a second look - if it wasn't for the tattered white shroud he's wearing, and the fact that he is ever so slightly translucent.

“What?” the boy asks after a minute or two.

Steve shakes himself, remembering he's supposed to be mad.

“I said,” he repeats, “are we actually sure I'm gonna snuff it this time, because so far all your yammering has done is give me migraines.”

“No,” the boy says. “I mean … why are you-? You shouldn't be able to see me.”

Steve scoffs. “Uh-huh. And you shouldn't be doing this for four years straight, I'm pretty damn sure, so maybe you just suck at your job.”

“Excuse me?” the boy bristles. “I've been doing this for eight-hundred-and-seventy-two years and this is the first time this has happened. It's not my fault. It's…I dunno, this fucking place. The stupid hellhole under this town is messing everything up.”

“Yeah, tell me about-” Steve starts to say, then pauses. “Wait a sec, you know about the Upside Down?”

The boy huffs.

“Oh, I know everything about you, big boy,” he says, leaning closer on his branch and kicking his naked feet. It's a perfectly innocent statement in and by itself, but something about the way he twirls his hair and wags his eyebrows makes Steve's stomach give a funny flutter.

“Except for when I'm going to die, apparently,” he snaps, noticing with a warm surge of satisfaction how the boy's translucent face flushes. For a few moments, the only sound is that of the wind rustling the leaves. Somewhere in the woods, an owl hoots.

“Anyhow,” Steve says. “I'm going back to bed. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't wake me again, unless it's an actual, life-threatening-”

“Wait!” He turns. The boy's grin has gone a little manic, his eyes a little desperate. “Why don’t you stay a little longer? We could talk- … I mean, maybe I could help figure this out? Not to brag, but I know a lot about supernatural shit.”

Steve hesitates. If the guy is telling the truth and has been doing this for eight-hundred-and-who-knows-how-many years, maybe he does know something that can help them.

He's also probably pretty damn lonely if Steve’s the only person in all that time who's actually been able to see him.

He heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Fine, whatever. What do you know?”

Befriending the family ghost sure as hell wasn’t on Steve’s agenda for this year, but he's long learned to roll with the unexpected.

More Steddie Bingo

More monster loving

[vermililion]

edward nashton 'the riddler' fic recs ✧°‧⭑.ᐟ

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

continuing to update | last updated 27/05/25

─── ✧ DRABBLES/BLURBS

voyeurism | @pictureinme

kinktober - pervy eddie.

from your secret admirer | @boyprincessarchives

you're edward's newest penpal! ...unbeknownst to you. set in the riddler year one comics, in the midst of finding and fulfilling his purpose to rid the city of its impurities, edward finds that his biggest hurdle for his plans are the growing thoughts about the corner diner's newest regular. but he cant just come up to you!! maybe notes will have to suffice...

─── ✧ ONE SHOTS

home is where the heart is | @vigilvntes

There's no where Eddie would rather be than home.

the getaway | @abrcmswrld

You should've turned him away that night. Instead you let him in your home and into your mind and into your heart, and now he's burrowed himself so deep it feels like cutting out a vital organ to send him away.

keep looking up | @goodboyriddler

He's utterly obsessed with you. Your face, your smile, your smell. He'll do anything, beg for you, take that fight for you.

good boy | @/goodboyriddler

He's always nervously stealing glances at you when you come to the dinner, blushing when you look back. When you praise him accidentally one time his whole body shudders. Oh. This is going to be fun.

the one I love, the one I left behind | @mypoisonedvine

for the most part, you've managed to let go of the life you lived so long ago, fighting to survive in an orphanage with your best friend at your side; you thought it was the only way to cope with the trauma and move on so you could start living in better means...

so long, prison boy | @mermaid-trash

Reader visits Eddie in Arkham after finding out he is the Riddler, angst follows.

jail bird | @passi0np1t

whole lotta angst. In which the gn reader visits edward in jail after he’s arrested.

puppet master | @get-your-fics

Who's really pulling the strings?

covered in you | @starlightsearches

neighbour riddler.

moving too fast | @/starlightsearches

eddie is a virgin and doesn't know how to tell reader.

edward nashton | @the-witty-pen-name

collage au with edward.

i knew him | @sadtrombonemusic

Y/n gets caught up with the GCPD after she is singled out by the Riddler.

Damn bitch, you live like this? | @rat-cigars

riddler being the riddler - based on 2022 batman, pre-canon into main canon.

─── ✧ SERIES

lessons in design | @ohcaptains

edward is in charge of registering the new recruits. it’s boring and dull work, but he happens upon the newest member of the design team and becomes a little bit too interested in her startup. 

disarm (AO3) | @/writingsofmax

Edward Nashton is working on his Riddler plans for Gotham when he unexpectedly meets Y/N, someone who is struggling with her chronic illness one night while out driving. Edward had always been a loner that had serious issues relating to other people and now has to reckon with his growing feelings for Y/N over time as he also continues to work on his plans in secret.

tax season on camera | @killerlookz

Edward Nashton is a simp in every sense of the word, having fallen head over heels for a camgirl he'd found, whom he barely knows. but somehow Eddie gets lucky, and his favorite cam girl moves right next door, and just so happens to need his expertise.

pick-up lines | @/starlightsearches

Imagine getting creepy cute cards from a “Secret Admirer” and finding little gifts at your work, in your apartment...and you’re shocked to find out The Riddler is leaving the same style of cards for Batman at his murder scenes....

saturdays - sundays - weeks | @ficsforyou

He sees her, someone rich, someone famous, someone who eventually will be his.

truth's out | @/sadtrombonemusic

you found out that your husband was the man terrorizing Gotham city, how does that affect you and your child?

faustian bargains part ii | @acapelladitty

Assigned as the newest psychiatrist to treat Edward Nashton, your first meeting quickly descends into a dangerous game which sees you making a deal with the devil to survive.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

[remlionheart]

can i request a megumi x reader fluff >_<! so like while on a mission due to a cursed technique of the curse the reader gets turned into a child so megumi has to take care of them and yeah they’re dating BUT NOTHING WEIRD JUST MEGUMI TAKING CARE OF CHILD READER PLEASE 😭😭

not a lot, just forever...

intertwined, sewn together...

♡‧₊˚ ⋅ hi lovely! i sat with this idea for a few days thinking of a way to bring it to life because it’s honestly just so cute and the more i thought about meg trying to interact with a child, the more my heart melted. ((i also realized that this is the very first sfw thing i’ve ever posted on here (whoops lol)), it's more of a drabble than a full-fledged fic, but i hope you like it anyway ♡ 0.9k words. the fluffiest of fluff. lemme know whatcha think, luv you ‧₊˚ ⋅♡

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.

Megumi had watched the curse hit you. Watched the way your body went limp after you'd fallen to the ground. He'd held you in his arms, struggling to shove past all of the worst-case scenarios that had invaded his mind before scooping you up and getting you to a safe place while Yuuji and Nobara worked on defeating the curse user who’d done this to you.

He was grateful that you were okay – beyond grateful that you were still with him and somehow mostly unscathed, but...

He never expected to see you like this. He hadn’t even heard of the curse that had struck you until now and the effects of it were... surreal, to say the least. He knew this version of you from old pictures he'd seen and stories that you’d told him over the last year you'd been dating, but he never in his life thought that he'd one day be standing face-to-face with 7-year-old you…

"Hey," your voice was impossibly light, your tiny hand tugging at the sleeve of his uniform. "What's your name?"

The wheels in his head weren't just spinning anymore, they were fully lifted off of the ground and exploding into the air as he looked back at you, desperately searching your face to try and figure out if you were still there or if he was really, truly in the presence of child-you who hadn't met him yet.

He cleared his throat, doing his best to sound calmer than he felt. If he was this disoriented, he couldn't imagine what you must be feeling, especially at the age you suddenly were.

"My name's Megumi." He said placidly, crouching down to become eye level with you. "And you?"

You giggled, the most innocent, wholesome giggle he thought he'd ever heard as you bashfully introduced yourself to him.

"That's a pretty name." He soothed, silently racking his brain for a way to explain why you needed to come with him.

He'd never really been great with kids, even when he was one. At this age, his dad had already abandoned him and he was being faced with the crippling reality that he was going to be sold to the Zenin clan. He'd been forced to grow up at such a rapid rate that the adults around him had never bothered to speak sweetly to him or treat him how they should've. He wasn't allowed to simply be a first grader with first grader problems, he was expected to be a man.

Though he might not have not known the perfect way to interact with you, the longer he stared back into your big wonderous gaze, he realized that he certainly knew how not to act from the people that had failed him. He couldn't undo the past for himself, but what he could do was be the adult that he wished he would've had at 7.

"Hey," he finally said, flashing you the steadiest smile he could manage, "You don't like..." He put a finger to his chin, scrunching his face for emphasis as he pretended to think. "Strawberry mochi, do you?"

Stars filled your eyes while your small hands clapped together. "That's my favorite!" You squealed, completely enthralled by the fact that he'd somehow managed to guess it on the very first try.

"Really?" He asked, trying to mimic your excitement, "Mine too. Do you wanna go get some? My friend Shoko has tons of it."

You nodded emphatically; all 120 centimeters of you ready to run there though you had no idea which way to go yet.

"Alright," Megumi said, "But you gotta do me a favor and stay close to me until we get there, okay?"

Thankfully, he'd been able to move you to a secluded area before the curse had turned back the hands of time, but he still wasn't going to take any chances. He summoned his dogs, biting back a sincere smile when he heard you cheer, "Puppies!"

They were equally as ecstatic to see you too though. Both of them wagging their tails and leaving slobbery kisses across your face while you laughed, the two of them acting as if they really were puppies and not deadly shikigami.

He gave you a couple of minutes to pet them before redirecting their focus and reaching for your hand. Both dogs immediately got into formation, guarding you while you began your journey back to Shoko's office.

"So – Megumi."

"Yeah?"

"Ummm," you sputtered, trying to think of what question you wanted to ask him first. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Favorite number?"

"Seventeen."

"Favooorriitteeeee.... food?"

"Anything that pairs well with ginger."

You made a face like you'd tasted something bitter, shaking your head as you giggled at his response. "What abouttt yourrr....favorite... person?"

He smiled to himself, squeezing your tiny hand in his. "Well..." He said, pausing to look down at you. "I think right now, I'd have to say it's you."

"Me?" You beamed, "Really?!"

"Always."

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.

[sgtgarricks]

afab!reader

i think john price would be sooo incredibly oblivious to your advances to the point it pisses you off.

imagine you've had a crush on your captain for a few months now, you've dug around information and find out that yes, he is single.

so you get to work.

you smile at him whenever you see him (the only other person you usually smile at is soap). you try to stay later than usual to catch him leaving just so you can have a few minutes of extra conversation with him.

you're kind of touchy (but not too much), brushing your fingers with him whenever you get the chance. whenever you get called into his office, you make sure to crack a joke or two, just to see his eyes crinkle.

you were down bad for him. like, really bad. whenever he even slightly smiles or praises you, you preen like you just won a gold medal and your face feels hot.

so, you genuinely don't understand how he seems so unfazed?? at the very least he should've felt something was up and rejected you if he wasn't into it. but nope, he's still smiling at you, ruffling your hair.

okay, you think maybe you're being too subtle. it's been three months and there isn't any response.

you begin to bring him little gifts. nothing expensive or big, trinkets that would fit in your pocket. a little keychain of a cigar, a pin of his favorite football club, packets of his favorite coffee flavor.

"oh, what's this for then?" he'd asked, glancing at the little keychain.

"nothin'. just saw it and reminded me of you!" you grin happily. he still seems confused, but accepts your gift anyway.

"thank you, that's very kind of you :)" he gifted you one or two items, even going as far to let you ride shotgun on missions. you were feeling fairly optimistic.

this goes on for another three months, you bringing him something once every two weeks. it's gotten to the point where even soap and gaz have realized what's up (simon doesn't give a fuck).

"you got favorites now? don't think we've ever received a gift from 'em gaz." soap loves to make fun of your infatuation with price. gaz doesn't start anything, but he'd gladly chime in.

after half a year, you're pissed off. because how has he not said anything yet?? you thought he was starting to catch your drift but apparently not. he was either leading you on or genuinely thinks you were just being friendly.

you're over the top now, even simon's cringing slightly at you blatantly gushing over the captain.

you were linking your arm with his if you two walked somewhere together (his forehead did the little scrunch from confusion but didn't say anything).

anytime he wanted to show you something, you'd come around and stand as close to him as possible. one time you even put your head on his shoulder to read the document.

even your jokes had gotten more flirtatious without being overtly sexual. yet still... nothing.

you were pissed. you've been throwing yourself at him every chance you got, any more you'd get written up for fraternization. the next time all of you go out for drinks at the pub, you decide it's do or die.

you put on your best dress, one that hugs your figure nicely. you even do your hair and put a bit of make up on. tonight was the night you were either going to have your heart broken or have a good time.

when you open the door to the pub, you know gaz spots you first judging by the drink he just spat. soap turns and whistles, laughing loudly (simon didn't come). you see price is missing, but you find him at the bar ordering drinks. you slink next to him.

"another one for me?" he spins at the sound of your voice, eyes going wide for a fraction of a second. he coughs and brings up another finger to the bartender.

"you look..." he begins, you inch yourself forward to hear him better and shove something in his face. "different." the smile instantly drops from your face. you pull him away from the bar easily (he let you) and drag him outside.

"why are we out here?" he questions innocently. you huff, not believing the audacity of this man in front of you.

"captain. with all due respect, i don't know how many more signs i can give you before i lose my mind. i have my tits out," you gesture at them and his eyes falls downwards before going back to your face, "and you haven't even looked once."

"i like you, you can kiss me right now or tell me to fuck off and transfer me." you cross your arms, lips turning down into a frown. he was in shock, you can almost physically see a loading bar on top of his head.

to your surprise, he cups your face and leans down to kiss you. your heart was thumping and mouth slightly agape, but the only response you could think of was, "were you really that oblivious?"

"sorry, love. i thought you were just trying to ride shotgun." he grins.

what an idiot (affectionate).

notes: ahfudshf my stupid old man <3

[yeonooky]

backseat: rm x reader

genre: smut , one-shot , once again SMUTTY

pairing: knj x reader

rating: 18+

plot: you celebrate at your local bar after getting your dream job. A mysterious man appears when you're already a few shots in.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

You just got the chance of a lifetime. After years of choreographing dances for various dance studios and promoting yourself to every big company, you have caught the attention of one of the top.

You just got the job opportunity to choreograph a dance for a new boy group debuting under one of Korea's top 3 music companies. Although the group name and lineup are hidden, you are provided with a title track to make a dance to.

This song is right up your alley and you are as excited as ever to begin working on this. To celebrate, you go to a local bar.

As you approach the bar, you notice there are only a few people there. Weird. It's Friday night.

"Whatever, more drinks for me!"

You start off with a cocktail. You know it's a crazy drink to start with, but you can't shake the adrenaline out your system after realizing your career is about to take off.

You want something just as strong as that excitement, so you wave at the bartender and order a single tequila shot. You start with just one, but before you can think, you are several shots in. You aren't a lightweight, but how you feel right now is making you think differently.

After taking yet another shot, you slightly turn your head to the left. There is a tall man sitting next to you with a beer in his hand.

How long has he been sitting there? Has he been here this entire time?

You quickly turn your head back to your empty shot glass.

"You seem like you're having fun."

You flinch, not expecting him to say anything. You turn your head back to him and he's smirking at you.

"Well, I'm celebrating." You let out a grin.

"What's the special occasion?"

"I just got my dream job. I've been working towards this since I was a teenager."

"Interesting...what kind of job is it?" he turns his head back to his bottle and takes a sip.

"I'm a dancer. I just got the chance to choreograph for a company I'd been eyeing for quite a while."

You turn your head back to your shot and notice a glass of water. Even the bartender knows you've had a little too much.

"What company?"

You look back at him, he's staring directly into your eyes. You turn back to your water and take a sip.

"I'm not allowed to say yet. I had to sign a bunch of papers specifically telling me not to say anything. And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, what are you doing here? Celebrating?" You notice he's no longer looking you in the eyes. His eyes have gone down to your lips. He's slowly blinking as he brings his eyes back to yours.

"I am, and actually..I'm a dancer as well. I got a nice job recently too." He says while adjusting his tie.

"Woah really? What company?"

"Well, I had to sign a bunch of papers that specifically telling me not to say anything."

You both laugh and look away for a second.

He turns his head back to you once more and inches his hand closer to yours. You feel your heart begin to race, so you try to find a distraction.

"So what's your name?"

"Namjoon, and you?"

Before you can speak, the bartender comes back around.

"Doing all right over here? Need anything?"

You ask for a lemon shot. The night is still young.

He slides me my shot and I quickly take it. A few silent moments go by, and you feel Namjoon staring at you. You knew not to look, you'd be forced to lock eyes.

Your heart begins racing once more. You knew you should've slowed down with the shots.

Lost in thought, you start imagining what could be going through his mind. What is he thinking? Is there something on my face? Time to drink some more water.

You see Namjoon slowly raise his hand toward you.

You flinch.

Why did you flinch?

"Sorry. Wasn't expecting that." you say with a deep sigh.

There it is again. Your heart.

You slowly turn your face toward his, he's already fully facing you. You never understood the definition of siren eyes until you fell deep into his. Your eyes shift down to his lips. They're wet from the beer. You'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking dirty.

"You like what you see?"

"What?" You instantly shift your eyes back to his and can't contain the shocked look on your face. How long was I staring at his lips?

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. I was just loo-"

He leans in and goes straight for your lips. He stops right in front of them and you can smell the alcohol in his breath.

You can't wait any longer. You close the gap between your lips. You feel him put his hand in your hair while kissing, and takes his other hand to put it on your thigh.

He starts rubbing his hand up and down your thigh without breaking contact with your lips. You feel him move his hand away from your thigh and move it back onto the bar. He slides that hand on top of yours.

You pull away from his lips and slide your hand out from underneath his.

You scoff and look over at your empty glass, then back to him. "In a bar?"

Where did all your confidence come from?

He chuckles and puts his hand back on top of yours. He leans in closely to your ear. "Then why don't we leave?"

There's no way he couldn't hear your heart beating when he leaned in. You once again got a smell of the alcohol, which somehow turned you on even more. Before you can respond, he puts a $50 bill on the bar and grabs your arm. He pulls you out of your seat and starts pacing toward the door.

Namjoon opens the front doors of the bar and starts walking you down the sidewalk. You look back over to the bar and you can see your reflections on the windows. You turn your head back to him and watch him pull his car keys out from his pocket. He quickly opens the backseat door and turns to peck your lips one last time.

You feel your face turning red after realizing what's about to happen. And if you're being honest, you don't feel a single ounce of regret of what's about to go down. You hadn't been this intimate with anyone in years.

You feel the adrenaline rush and can't contain yourself. You instantly get into the back seat of the car and slide all the way to the opposite side of the car. You lean your back against the door and start sliding your lace painties from underneath your skirt.

He enters in shortly after you and closes the car door behind him. "Lose the skirt."

You smirk at him and start unzipping your skirt. You slowly spread your legs and move your hand down to your slit while still looking making direct eye contact with him.

"I didn't realize how much you were wanting this..how about you lay back and let me handle you?"

You feel your blood rush to your head as you watch him unbuckle his belt. He reaches into his wallet and pulls out a gold packet.

You instantly sit back up and grab onto his arm. You move his arm toward your head and start sucking on his fingers. Your cold lips on his warm hands made him flinch slightly. You wrap your tongue around his fingers, making sure to cover every inch, just to show him what you're good for.

You take your tongue off his fingers and slowly slide your lips off. You tilt your head back up to him, he's already looking at you with his mouth partially open. You make sure he's looking right at you.

"Put that away. I want you to fuck me raw."

He smirks and looks you up and down. "You think you can handle all that?"

You scoff and grab him by his tie. "Why don't we test it out?"

He throws that packet away and immediately pushes your body back to the other side of the car, remaining close to your face as you grip onto his tie. You slowly let go of the tie as he moves his body down to finish taking your panties off. He kisses your thighs on his way back up.

Namjoon sits back up and begins unbuttoning bis shirt. You stare at his abs as he finishes taking out the last button. He leans back in and places his lips on your neck. He starts sucking and biting while using his other hand to bring your waist closer to him.

He leads a trail of a saliva and kisses down your stomach.

Namjoon takes his hand and holds two fingers up to your face. "Suck on them."

You open your mouth and he shoves them in. You start soaking and sucking them until he pulls them back out. He brings his fingers down and starts rubbing his fingers up and down your slit. He keeps eye contact while slowly sliding his fingers inside. You let out a moan and look down for half a second.

He takes his arm from under you and grabs your face. He forces it back up.

"Look at me."

He slides his arm back under and starts pushing his fingers inside further and faster. You start moaning in pleasure, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"You're so fucking tight" he smirks and kisses you again, this time with tongue. "I can fix that".

He unzips his pants. You can see the bulge through his boxers, and feel butterflies in your stomach.

He pulls his boxers down and leans in toward your face. "You look nervous, I thought you said you could handle it?"

"Don't underestimate me." You nod your head and slightly open your legs further. Before he puts it in, he moves his head back down and licks your slit. He begins by sucking on your clit, and proceeds to put in one finger. You start moaning and can't keep your body still. You roll your hips as he pushes his finger in and out while still licking and sucking.

You start to feel the drops of sweat on his face and body land onto yours. You could feel every single bit of him on your body as you plead and beg for more. You bring your hand onto his head and tap it to signal him to come back up. When he's face to face with you again, you close your eyes to speak.

"Spit in my mouth"

Namjoon doesn't hesistate. He grabs onto your face and holds your bottom teeth with his thumb. He spits in your mouth and shoves his tongue in.

You moan his name as he starts swirling his tongue in your mouth while still fingering you. He starts sucking on your tongue and biting on your bottom lip. You start to feel weak and can't fully kiss back anymore.

He pulls away from my lips for a second, then pulls his fingers out from you. He moves his body closer and lines his cock up with your slit. He starts pressing it against you before slowly putting it in. He starts off slow, but starts speeding up.

He leans back in and sticks his tongue in your mouth before your lips even touch. He thrusts harder inside of you while biting your lip. He grabs onto your face with his free hand and you feel him spit in your mouth once more.

You feel Namjoon's hand slowly lose grip from your face and move down to your neck. You panic for about half a second before he presses his thumb down on your neck and starts fucking you faster.

You feel everything. His tongue in your mouth, his warm hand grabbing onto your neck, his member so deep inside you that you can feel it in your stomach.

You try to signal him that you're about to climax, but you can't get the words out. He tightens the grip on your neck and backs up half an inch away from your face before spitting in your mouth again. He releases you from his hands and brings it down to your breasts. He starts cupping them and pressing on your nipples with his fingers. He pushes his lips on your collarbones and starts kissing them.

He sucks on your chest and trails down to your breast. He holds it up with his hand and puts it in his mouth. He suck and nibbles on your nipples with a smile. He pulls away and looks you in your eyes. He slides his other arm from beneath you and maintains eye contact while cupping both your breasts with his hands. He pushes them together and tries putting them both in his mouth at the same time.

He goes back and forth between the two before letting go and wrapping both his arms around your waist. He pulls his member out from inside of you and picks you up by the waist to put you in his lap. He slides his arms from your waist down to your ass.

He looks up at you and smiles. "What a good girl you are."

You instantly look away. He is now at eye level with your breasts and starts sucking again. You feel your heart flutter as he starts biting.

Namjoon starts sucking on other parts of your breasts and leaves several marks.

"You like that, don't you?"

You make direct eye contact with him, then look down at his cock. Without saying anything, you push him back against the car door and smile at him.

"I'll show you something I really like."

You peck him on his lips and slide your body down his. You look up at him one more time before holding the bottom of his dick with your fingers. You spit onto the tip and immediately start sucking. You try pushing it to the back of your throat while going up and down. You press your tongue while sucking, making him flinch.

You hear him start groaning, which turns you on so much that you start pressing on it harder. You feel him grab onto your hair.

He pulls you up and down so far that you can feel his cock touching the back of your throat. He starts speeding up while breathing heavily.

"God you're so good at this baby."

He grips onto your hair faster and pushes you so far down that your head is touching his stomach. You tap on his lap, signaling you need to come up for air. Instead of you coming up on your own, he pulls you up by your hair and makes you face him.

"Done already?" he says while looking directly at my lips.

"Not even close."

"Good girl." He shoves your head back down and allows you to pick up where you left off. This time, he's thrusting faster and grips onto your hair harder than ever.

You start sucking, but feel his hand slowly loose grip on your head. You start getting excited, knowing what's coming next.

"I-I'm about to-"

You push your head as far down as it can go so you can catch every last drop. Once he finishes, you proceed to swallow. You sit back sit back up and face him- cum still dripping off the side of your lip.

He grabs his tie from his shirt and uses it to wipe my face. "What a good girl you are."

You feel your face go hot again. You pick your panties and skirt up from the car floor and slide them back up your legs. You look over at Namjoon and he's pulling his pants back up. He puts his belt back on and buckles it back into place. He starts buttoning his shirt up.

You watch him struggle as the sweat drips off his fingers from grabbing onto your wet body. After zipping your skirt back up, you help him button his shirt back up. He watches as you button it from top to bottom.

You feel him kiss the top of your head. Your heart begins racing again as you smile while still looking down.

"When will I see you again?" you say, still looking down.

"Soon."

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Thank you for reading! It's been about 7 years since I had my first wattpad account and would write vkook and namjin fanfics LOL

You can find me on wattpad with the same username yeonooky!

[toxicanonymity]

vampire joel: the first few days.

3k, vampire!Joel x f!reader | vampire masterlist FLASHBACK, occurs within the special one. WARNINGS: I8+ I guess; dark fluff; big girthy age gap (440s vs 20s-50s); excessive lore; softdark!Joel; kidnapping/captivity; mild angst; creepy behavior; irreverent humor; Joel has sweet and spicy thoughts and gets turned on; shifts to present tense after time lapse; Joel carries reader.

You’re a miracle. Running on you, Joel feels more alive than he has in a few hundred years. He almost feels alive alive. And it lasts. That little sip he took the night you met? It lasted so much longer than it should've, he began to wonder if you somehow un-turned him.

For years, Joel had sniffed out what he needed by instinct. He’d taken what he could get-–some here, some there-–subsisting on a rolling cocktail of different bloods. That was the trick to feeling good: diversify the sources. It was also the hardest part, but he found a way.  After so many years, he stopped hoping he’d find the whole package in one warm body. 

Over the years. Joel had known some other people like him-–he liked to think of himself as a person, at least. Some of them believed in the one; others were more pessimistic. He'd never met anyone who had found their special one, but for a long time, Joel believed it was possible, if improbable, that he'd find you one day.  He thought about it a lot back then, visualizing you in different ways, with various personalities and interests. He thought about you in different genders, ethnicities, and bodies. He imagined different ways of meeting you. For all he knew, you could have been anyone. As time went on, he thought about it as less of a hope and more of a dream. 

But then, one night, there you were. He wasn’t on the hunt. He wasn’t out for blood. He was enjoying a book and a beer. When you first looked in his direction, Joel assumed you had your eye on someone else.  Then, he felt it: you were watching him. Your eyes met for a moment, then he looked down at his book again.  He could hardly read the words on the page. That gaze of yours. . . you were like a magnet, pulling on him. He resisted, and left you alone, but out of the corner of his eye, he still caught your vibe.  You were distracted. Your friends laughed together, and you sometimes joined in. And then, when your friends left, you stayed behind. Not for long, but long enough for Joel to decide to approach you. 

Joel watched you slowly move toward the exit, and he was drawn to you. When he held the door and got close enough to smell you, he knew there was something special about you.  When his hands met your bare shoulders in the alley (God bless that rat), he felt a warm rush, warmer than he felt in ages.  When he tasted your lips, something ignited deep in the core of his being. And then, when his lips brushed your neck, it really hit him—you could be that special. He couldn’t resist an impulsive bite. He could only slow down enough to whisper an apology.  Sorry. Only gonna take a little. When you wouldn’t let him kiss you again, he left you alone. 

(He tried to.)

—----

When Joel’s first taste of you faded, the prospect of finding nourishment elsewhere wouldn't do. He had to find you and keep you. 

By the time he met you again in the same alley, he was desperate enough that he didn't give you a chance to say no. Not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. Hurting you would be the last thing he'd want. You were a precious jewel. One of a kind. The scent of you was enough to put him at ease as he carried your limp body to the end of the alley. He draped you in the back seat of his station wagon, and put your bag in the passenger seat.  It took all he had to wait until he got home. 

He brought you inside and laid you down on a velvet chaise.  You looked so peaceful, so beautiful.  He almost kissed you right then and there, then remembered how you’d flinched away the last time, against your car, after he took that fateful sip. He would only take what he needed. He would do what was necessary, what fate demanded. He didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t want to hurt you. He covered your mouth and nose with the damp cloth again, just for a moment, for good measure, then put it aside. 

Joel cradled your head, planted his lips on your neck, and bit into your flesh. Your blood rushed out of you like it wanted into him.  It was intoxicating.  He could hardly pry himself away.  When he released you, he felt a wave of guilt, but it was overtaken by the physical rush.  For almost an hour, he stayed kneeling there on the floor in front of the chaise, simply existing in the same space as you, and watching you exist. Then he realized the only secure place to keep you was downstairs. 

He brought you downstairs, laid you on the floor, then sat and watched you sleep until he remembered there were things he needed to do. He took off your shoe for you–the other must have fallen off upstairs–and chained you by the ankle. Then he went back up to the den. 

Joel sat on the chaise, feet planted on the floor, elbows on his knees, staring at the antique rug, deep in thought. 

He took you. He did it. Okay, what next? Keep you. Make sure no one takes you away.  

He put on his glasses, turned on the TV, and started an episode of Dateline. Keith Morrison's voice was always so soothing, but it wasn't the right kind of story and hearing the family members talk kinda made him feel bad. He went to Investigation Discovery. After scrolling through some episodes, he found one that fit. He periodically nodded along with the reenactment, and paused it when he knew what to do. 

-

Joel went out to his car to get your keys. Then, just as he finished ordering a Lyft, something buzzed under his elbow and he realized he was holding your bag. He dug for your phone and silenced a call. He pocketed the phone and put your bag back in his car. Oh God, he almost forgot that part. He rushed back inside and downstairs, cardigan trailing behind him for half the stairs, then slowing down and stepping as quietly as he could. He knelt on the floor and carefully lifted your hand. He pressed your thumb onto your phone and it unlocked. It worked. He changed your settings, then went back outside.  He walked briskly down his long driveway. He let himself out of the gate and stood in the fog, waiting on his ride. 

Joel didn't really go through your phone. He didn't want to violate your privacy more than necessary, but he also didn't want people to worry, and he didn't want you to worry about people worrying. It was still early–no need to respond yet.  But on the ride to the cafe, Joel looked out the window and thought of texts that would buy him some time if people kept trying to reach you. 

-

Fortunately, you were parked near the spot he walked you to before.  Once he picked up your car at the cafe, he stopped for groceries on his way home, mentally patting himself on the back for remembering you needed food. Joel himself hadn't eaten in days. He was wholly preoccupied with the thought of you. Years ago, he got into cooking as a hobby, but at this point, he mostly ate and drank socially. Even if he was alone, it was a good way to get out of the house and interact with people.  

Joel made a mental grocery list as he went into the store. Hemoglobin, you needed iron. Spinach, steak, spring mix, fish. Hey, he's not bad at this.  The two of you were  going to be just fine.  Maybe you'd even enjoy a glass of wine with him. He picked up a bottle of red.  His phone buzzed with a text and he ignored it. 

****** Day 3 *****

Now, almost two days later, he’s seen you awake, he’s helped you to the bathroom, he's brought you a mattress and a sheet, and even coaxed you into eating. 

You’re sleeping again, and you’re sleeping longer than he expected.  

Joel watches you sleep again. At least that means you're comfortable. He dares to get on the mattress with you, but he stays on the opposite side, giving you personal space.  He didn’t think this far ahead, and he’s having trouble thinking now. The only thing on his mind is the fact that he found you.  He found you when he wasn’t even looking. 

Joel snaps out of his trance when you begin to wake up. 

—- ✨ you ✨—--

You rub your eyes, and as Joel comes into focus, you’re only half awake. He’s lying on the floor with his head resting in his hand, but he quickly sits up when he notices you wake up.  He's dressed casual and cozy again. He leans forward, looking at you affectionately as you stir and stretch.  Your heart flutters at the sight of him, like you’re still in the alley that first night when he kissed you.  Then you feel the heavy chain around your ankle and it all comes back, like you’re in a bad dream. You slowly push yourself up into sitting. The chain drags as you move to the wall and slump down against it.

“You can't just—(yawn)--keep me here,” you tell him. You look at him pleadingly. 

His face falls. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “You said that.”

Your eyes are heavy. “People are gonna look for me,” you hope. But really, you're bad at staying in touch. You've been known to shut down and take off for days or weeks at a time. 

“Oh,” he perks up. “Don't worry about that.” 

He braces his forearm on the mattress and reaches into his pants pocket to fish out your phone. He quietly reassures you, “Didn't want ya to worry.”

What did he do? Your stomach drops. With a little smile, he adds, “Didn't wanna wake you up.” He moves cautiously like he might startle you.  The truth is, for some reason, you don't mind him being near you.  He settles in by your side, sitting against the wall.

He smells so good, you try to breathe through your mouth so it doesn't intoxicate you (but what's the use).  He holds the phone so you can see the screen. It looks small in his hand. He swipes open your text messages. Nothing unread. He opens the most recent one and watches your face in anticipation. 

It's from a friend.

Her: what's up  Her: call me, bitch  You: Hey, bitch. Something came up and I'm not going to be around anymore. Her: lmao wtf You: Lmao, I met someone. Her: hey  Her: call me You: Let’s catch up soon.

Your chest tightens. You close your eyes and take a deep breath (inhaling his soothing scent, ugh).  When you open your eyes, he's studying you, waiting for you to say something. You turn and face him. His wrist folds, and the phone hangs sadly from his hand. You're leaning your head against the wall, looking at him. 

“This isn't okay,” you tell him weakly. 

He swallows and nods, “Sorry.” He dips his head and looks at you pitifully. “Tryin’ to help,” he whispers. His face and body language make it sound believable.  

You look at the phone. “How does that—” you think better of reasoning with him. “Let me call her so she leaves you alone.” 

He looks at you contemplatively.

“I’ll act normal,” you promise.

He looks you over, and concern spreads across his face. “No,” he states calmly, then  pockets your phone again on the side farthest from you. 

You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall for a few minutes, then the buzz of his own phone jolts you back to reality. Joel leans far enough away that he doesn't elbow you when he slides his phone out. The contact picture on his screen is a woman wearing glasses. He rejects the call and slides it back into his pocket. 

You plead, “Lemme go and I promise I’ll come back.” He might not believe you, but you would.  It's the (somewhat shameful) truth. You don't know where your survival instinct is.  You've tried to conjure it.  But you're drawn to him as though by a physical force. You might even be willing to take him home with you instead of being locked up here,  but you don't offer that yet.  

His brows knit as he searches your face. You wonder if he can see you're telling the truth.  When your eyes meet, you feel something.  You swallow and your eyes drift to the silver bits in his beard.  After a moment, he shakes his head. No. He won't let you go. Your heart sinks. You feel a chill and wrap yourself tighter in the sheet. 

“Shit,” he mutters to himself and abruptly sits up off the wall. He looks guilty. He takes his cardigan off, and the veins in his neck bulge. “C’mere,” he whispers. 

He drapes the cardigan over you. It's remarkably cozy, like a warm hug of its own. He reaches over you to unlock the cuff and slip your foot out of it. He pushes the chain away. “C’mere,” he repeats and nudges you forward. He inches closer, and you let him.  He gets behind you so he's sitting against the wall with you between his bent knees. You sit there rigidly for a minute, but you don't have the energy to stay tense. You relax into his strong arms, and they settle securely but comfortably around you.  It feels like you're his plushie.  “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he whispers. He presses his lips into the crown of your head. Instead of pulling away, you relax more.  Soon, you fall asleep. Your hands open and release the edges of the sheet wrapped around you.

— Joel 🩸 —

Joel sits there holding you while you sleep. He still feels bad that he took too much blood, but he’s not as worried anymore, and he won't let it happen again. You're just tired. You'll get your strength back. It makes him feel good to feel you breathing. Your back is against his tummy and chest. He slips his arms under the cardigan and brushes the smooth skin of your inner elbow, feeling the slightly raised vein. That's a good sign. He wants to kiss you there. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He's been waiting for you for hundreds of years. You have no idea how special you are. 

You shift in your sleep, and he lets your head rest on his shoulder. He lightly strokes your temple and finds your forehead is beading with a fine mist of sweat. When you're sweaty enough that it might wake you up, he takes the special cardigan off you and puts it aside. Warmth is a luxury to him, not a necessity. 

Earlier, he was worried about you sleeping too much. Now, you're so peaceful, and the feeling of you in his arms is so soothing, he doesn't want to wake you up. 

He adjusts his arms.  As he gently hugs you, his palm grazes your lower belly. It sends a wave of desire through him. He wonders if you'll let him, when the time comes. If the time comes–if you bleed, that is. He has a feeling you do. Maybe he should get you one of those menstrual cups in case you don't want him to.  But God, he hopes you let him. He wonders what you’d feel like against his lips, what you’d taste like. He’s getting hard. He doesn't want you to wake up, feel him hard against you, and think he's a pervert. 

You've felt him hard against you before, that first night, but it's different now, because you're here and you didn't ask to be.  He squints at that harsh reality. He's counting on you forgiving him and understanding. He wonders if there's any other way he could have done this. Could he have resisted that first bite?  He feels regretful for a minute, playing out an alternate reality in his mind, however self-loathingly optimistic the alternate reality is.

He could've resisted. He could’ve ignored what he smelled and tasted in you. He could've treated you like a regular woman. He could’ve acted like a normal man. He could've slid his hands between your ass and your car and pulled you into him as you made out. He could've invited you back to his place. 

He could've laid you down on the sofa and pressed himself against you as he kissed (and only kissed) your neck. He could've pulled your dress up, kissed you from your breasts down to your knees, pulled your underwear off, left your sneakers on. He could’ve tasted your cunt, he could've fucked you. 

He could've taken you on dates, romanced you, and made love to you. . . Maybe. If you wanted. You did, you wanted it, he could feel it. He could hear it in your voice that night.

“Fuck,” he whispers; he's pretty hard now. He twitches against you. 

You sigh in your sleep, barely audible, but it nearly does him in. His heart races, and his hands come to your hips, gently nudging you forward.  God, he wants to pull you closer, not push you away.  He carefully begins to scoot out from under you. He lays you on your side and tucks the sheet around you. He picks up his cardigan and slowly gets off the mattress. He stands up and lets his palm graze the hard bulge in his pants. He feels like a sicko. But God, he hopes you let him do these things one day. All of it. He hopes you do these things together. He hopes you want it again. 

He hopes you want him. 

--------

Wow, you made it all this way and I didn't even really put out! Thank you so much for reading 🥹

I'm still trying to use @toxicfics for notifications but from what i hear, it's kinda hit or miss, as are the tags sometimes lmao.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz

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[minniethemoocherda]

@dystopiansewerrat Hi!!! Sorry I thought it would be easier to organise these in a seperate post instead of derailing your own post 😅. I am sorry in advance! I will warn you that you would regret asking me about any ideas I had because one of my favourite things is trying to fit as many characters into an au as I can 😅

Please feel free to completely ignore everything I said! I completely understand if you're not a fan of any ships or ideas I mention. It is your au!!!! You are the artist!! These are just my rambling string of consciousness 😅

Anyway ideas based on @dystopiansewerrat Motor Sport Transformers AU!

Everyone go check it out!! Their art and ideas are amazing!!! Xxxxxxx

OG Era

Optimus' team includes of his oldest friend and head mechanic Ratchet and his bodyguard/eng specialist Ironhide.

Jazz is a fellow racer who has known OP since they were teenagers. He might not have won as many races as OP but he's very popular thanks to his style and that a video of him singing went viral! He is now a commentator.

Mirage wanted to prove that his skills as a racer came from talent and not his money. But after he won his first race, he realised that he hated being in the spotlight. He'd made freinds with Jazz during their first year together and joined his team instead. He spends most of his time working behind the scenes, getting sponsors and running PR. He still works behind the scenes and sponsors young up and coming races who due to their backgrounds would struggle getting sponsors from bigger brands. He also married Jazz's mechanic Hound.

Elita-One made history to have the first all female team, including her specialist Chromia. There were rumours that she had a romance with Optimus (amongst all the other romantic rumours surrounding Optimus)

Elita and Optimus set up their friends Ironhide and Chromia. The pair have been together ever since.

Prowl is the star racer for the Paxian team. His manager was Barricade who was an arsehole and his mechanic was Tarantulas who would experiment without telling him on his vehicle. Hkm and Prowl have a short lived relationship. Prowls younger brother Smokescreen was the only non-toxic influence on his team. Back in the day Prowl had a bit of a rivalry with Jazz but now they do the commentary together as he gives dry facts and serious analysis against Jazz's less serious persona. Rumours speculated about a romance between them since they were both racers and carried on to them both being commentators. The rumours turned out to eventually be right.

Ultra Magnus was head of the Wreckers team. Kups there too with Wheeljack as the mechanic and Bulkhead was there too maybe as the racer. Breakdown used to be on the team too until he fell head over heels for Knockout, the racer for the Velociteon team. Maybe they ended up saving each other at times if Breakdown got injured so Knockout helped to patch him up then another time Breakdown physically got Knockout to safety after a crash idk. Anyway now Breakdown is on the Velocitron team and now there is a lot of drama between them and The Wreckers.

Grimlock is the star racer for the Dinobot team who are always getting into trouble.

Onslaught is the star racer for The Combaticons. He built the team hismelf and is very proud of that. He is unaware that his teammate Blast-Off is in love with him.

Cyclonus get annoyed having to keep correcting people who assume he's part of the Deception team just because his uniform is purple.

Next Gen Era

Arcee saw Elita as a kid which inspired her to become a racer. She is now living the dream as Elita is her mentor and Chromia her mechanic.

I love Cheetor's friendship with Bumblebee and Hot Rod in Cyberverse so I could imagine them to be the same generation here! He's the racer for the Maximals with his Beast Wars crew as his team.

Springer is the new star racer for the Wreckers. Kup is still there as his mentor even though he should've retired by now. Springer is well liked by the public so he tries to hide the fact that disgraced former mechanic Tarantulas is his parent. Or maybe Springer himself doesn't even know they're related until some reporter reveals it. He could also have a complicated relationship with his other parents Prowl if you wanted to include that.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker grew up on the streets and in and out of foster homes, getting into trouble by stealing car parts and partaking in illegal drag races. Sideswipe is the star racer sponsored by Lambourgini whilst Sunstreaker does most of the behind the scenes stuff, including design and painting which is his favourite part. Maybe Ironhide is the twins mentor now and was able to whip them into shape.

Bluestreak is Prowl's youngest brother who is now the star racer of the Praxus team. He wanted to live up to his older brother's name. And he was a very fast and precise racer. But in the end decided he'd rather work behind the scenes so he joined Sideswipe's team as a strategist. He was worried Prowl would be disappointed but Prowl couldn't be more proud that he's doing what he wants with his life and for leaving the toxic praxus team. Bluestreak and Sunstreaker start dating at some point.

Breakdown and Knockout love their son Wildbreak very much! But worry about the team he joined the Stunticons being a bad influence on him.

After Onslaught got injured his team mate Vortex took over as head racer. He's crazy! And enjoys flirting with First Aid much to Ratchet's ire.

Non racers:

Red Alert is head of security for the races and Inferno was a firefighter who was working on the on site team in case of emergency which was how they met and are now happily married.

Swindle runs an unofficial betting ring within the racers and their teams since they can't place legal bets.

Smokescreen worked for the Praxian team with both his brothers but then developed a gambling problem. He's left the industry and getting help now though. His brother's are proud of him and he's proud of them.

Strongarm works security at the races. She is often seen arguing with Sideswipe about him not following safety rules. After they both had one too many drinks at a party, Sunstreaker catches them making out in a closet.

Lockdown is the reporter that no body likes becasue he always managed to dig dirt onto people.

Devcon is the reporter people like more because he's fair and not an attention seeking asehole

[cloudyskydreams]

I saw this ask on another blog and found it really fun. I'd thought to ask here too. Feel free to ignore it if it's not your thing. (Hope you also don't mind the copy and paste lol)

The Papyruses and Sanses (separately) are in a really solid relationship with s/o. Everything was going great until one day s/o announced they were pregnant!

The skeletons did not believe them, since well s/o is human, and believed they cheated. S/o tried so hard to convince them the baby is theirs but was unsuccessful. Sans and Papyrus left them, heartbroken.

Months later after the relationship is over, Sans and Papyrus randomly came across S/O whom is now sporting a babybones in their arms. Oops turns out S/O was telling the truth and somehow survived the pregnancy! (Also also if you don't want to do all the skeletons, cuz that's a lot of writing.... This ask can be geared towards either just the swap bros or the fell bros)

THIS ASK IS MWAH CHEFS PERFECTION. Thanks so much for requesting! Now I'm a sucker for anything related to pregnancy and babies (even though I'm terrified of it) and this ask hit me in the FEELS imagining the situation.

Swap:

Blue:

He had seen you with a stroller the other day at a grocery store. He felt bitter upon first seeing you with the child he had been so sure wasn't his but then he saw the sleeping babes face devastated horror quickly seeped in. There was no way it wasn't blue's child, from the fact it was a skeleton to the tooth gap and freckles they looked identical. He stood shocked, years in his eye sockets as he simply watches you walk down the grocery isle unaware. He doesn't even realize he's walking towards you until he's right in front of you and you're staring at him in shock. He apologizes profusely stating he should've listened to you and was extremely sorry and is hoping to meet up and talk. Blues a hopeful guy if there's any chance he can fix the situation he's going to. It's really up to how you want to handle it.

Stretch:

He wanted to believe you so badly with his ability to tell if someone lying he was sure you weren't but a part of him told him theres scientific way. So he breaks it off. He slips into a bit of a depression and months go by with blue's help he's doing a bit better. Out for a "mental health" walk Blue forced him to go for one day he sees you and tenses up panicking immediately. You have a stroller with you and his eyes flick down to look inside before he can stop himself. It's a skeleton and wow he looks a lot like stretch did as a baby bones. He feels relieved all of a sudden for just one pure blissful moment before realization hits and he feels like a massive douchebag. Teleports home before you can see and his depression is back 2x worse. He reaches out through messages too scared to call and way too much of a wuss to reach out in person. He tells you he's sorry and he should have trusted you more and he hopes you can someday forgive him. He wants to reconnect and be a part of the child's life but he doesn't believe he deserves it so you might have to do a lot of the work here (with blue's of course)

Fell:

Red:

Red was angry, fully believing you had cheated on him with some human man and were trying to claim some miracle was happening. Edge is the one who sees the child first, he ran into you one day while at the park for a walk and you were letting your son play. He comes home and he turns to Ted and is simply like You fucked up and shows him a picture he sneakily took when you weren't looking. Red breaks inside, the babybones looks exactly like him and the two of you look so happy together in the picture. He has a mini panic attack and after his brother calms him down his panic is replaced with rage at himself. He destroys his room and then cry's silently in the mess as he figures out what he wants to do. He won't reach out first so Edge takes it upon himself to set up a surprise meeting between you too (with your consent of course) And Red freaks out internally when he sees you. He's on his knees in front of you in seconds begging you to forgive him. Yet again up to you to decide what to do but he does want to reconnect and be apart of the babybones life more than anything.

Edge:

He acted closed off, aloof upon finding out you were pregnant. He's hurting inside but he refuses to let you see fully believing you broke his trust by cheating on him. When he sees you with the child he freezes, the child looks exactly like him and he knows he fucked up. He puts all pride to the side and approaches you hesitantly. He apologizes profusely and takes the initiative asking if you can meetup and he can spend time with the child. There's a hopeful look in his eyelights as he stares at you and your child waiting for your reply.

Ran out of steam during Edges lol but I fully enjoyed writing these! Might write a oneshot about Red in this situation cause he was my favorite to imagine. Hope you guys enjoyed ::3

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1 of ? - Part 2

Author's note: Hi! So multiple of you, COUGH @bispecsual COUGH incited the yandere Guilliman brain fungus, so here. This first part is mostly build up, the second half will have all the romance I just didn't want to make this some massive blob of a post with tons of timeskips. Enjoy.

Summary: Guilliman falls for the one person who's treated him like a man, and wants nothing more than for you to never leave him.

Relationships: Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive relationship and Guilliman using his power to manipulate and trap you, I don't have to tag age difference do I?

Word Count: 1837

Guilliman looks over the morning skyline of Macragge and takes a deep breath, before sighing.

He's pleased that it still looks familiar, after all of these years. Even if so much of the galaxy he once knew is almost unrecognizable. However he can still feel that even Macragge has also been brushed by the necrotic touch of this modern Imperium. It's inescapable now.

At least the view is still so peaceful. He enjoys this moment of quiet, before he becomes bombarded with every aspect of his Legion, and of the broader Imperium. He's surprised they've yet to begun doing so already.

It's just endless, all of it.

He can hear the hum of machinery and the droning noise of people speaking even at this early hour, and he partakes in it a moment more before he hears tiny footsteps behind him. Odd, no one comes to this area that he knew of, it's why he chose this spot.

When he turns to investigate, you spot him at the exact time he does you.

He doesn't recognize you; You're wearing ornate clothing befitting of someone of a higher stature, but your face is completely foreign to him. You completely freeze in place, and Guilliman supposes it's understandable. Your neck doesn't have to arch as severely to look him in the eyes from such a distance, though you still have to slightly.

Guilliman glances over you once more and notices you holding a myriad of parchment and other things in your arms. Study material.

He's stolen your spot, it seems.

"I should've supposed this place was already taken," He glances away for a moment and back towards the horizon. "It gives a good view." You look up at him, and he assumes you're surprised by his speaking to you. Many are, it makes even the most basic of communication frustrating now.

"...Yes, it does." You watch as he shifts slightly to the side, allowing you to come closer- if you choose.

As with most other humans in this modern Imperium he expects you to vehemently apologize for some imaginary offense against a god, to prostrate and kiss the floor before leaving him alone with his thoughts; Which leaves him surprised when you do not.

You hesitantly step closer, enough so that you can touch the railing that he also has an armored hand rested on. The Armour of Fate's gauntlets are ungainly and monstrous in comparison to your own hands, even as they rest so far away. Much of him is that way, towering over someone of the same species as him as he looks downward.

"I imagine it must be nice to see it again, after so long away."

He doesn't answer right away, and instead thinks for a moment.

He does miss many things, most of which are long gone- His mother, his real father, his brothers- but at least he can still enjoy the sunrise of his home after all of this time.

You however seem to take his silence as some sort of offense, and quickly begin to revert into speak that Guilliman has become more used to hearing from others in this recent time.

"I am so sorry Lord Guilliman, I-" He cuts you off before you have a chance to scurry away into a nameless mass of faces who have never given him this time of day.

"By all means, continue. I," Guilliman pauses for a moment. "I appreciate the casual conversation. It has been many years, and I would like to continue, if you don't mind."

You freeze for a moment, before Guilliman can see you noticeably relax. The fear of repercussion is gone from your mind, for the time being.

"Then, Lord Guilliman," You purse your lips for a moment, wetting them. You look out towards the sky, and he almost follows your gaze before he looks towards you upon hearing your voice.

"Do you think it's going to rain?"

Guilliman shifts in his armor, and for a moment laments that he still feels tired from his last attempt to take it off, before becoming lost in thought.

He never ask where you were from, that day. Or any of the meetings after. He had been so distracted by just enjoying his moment of humanity, that he'd forgone asking. To think he would be so distracted by such a menial thing, so drawn into someone who gives him something seemingly so simple.

As it has become a routine, and you've gone from nearing shivering from nervousness to smiling at him and laughing. He says plenty that is amusing to you, it seems. There isn't many moments now where you chest isn't shaking with silent laughter. He comes to you feeling at the end of his rope, and then leaves the place you both have claimed as your little secret smiling.

He oh so enjoys each little moment. He feels human. You just look at him, you don't look at his creation and his so called divinity.

He feels like Roboute. Not Lord Regent.

It's when he's leaning over this holotable, glancing around at thousands of little dots of interest, that he speaks the question to the man closest to him. Where you're from, your history. He wants to know anything there is to know.

When Guilliman speaks your name and description for clarity, of which he recollects perfectly, the Imperium priest is confused for a moment. He doesn't dare question why Guilliman is so interested in someone so seemingly random, and eventually collects himself enough to speak.

"Well, Lord Regent..."

Your father is in Macragge's high court, he says. He says his family name, but he can't put a face to it. They've either never met, or he put too little impression on him to bother remembering. Either way, he hums.

"Bring her here. I have something I wish to ask of her."

He freezes once more, for a moment. Though Guilliman takes rare enjoyment in his perceived godhood that the priest doesn't dare question such an odd request, and quickly scurries away to go fetch you.

In the moment of solitude, Guilliman continues looking at the holotable despite not absorbing any of it's information.

He is not going to let this opportunity slip him by.

Out of his short while in this new Imperium, he has found no one able to give him even a fraction of the feeling you've shown him. Even in this short time he knows that you are the one he wants beside him as we wades through all of this horror and mess, and he'll give you whatever you desire- or do whatever it takes- to keep you there.

He refuses to let this slip him by. He refuses to let you slip him by. If the universe won't give him his happiness, then he will take it himself. He deserves to be selfish just this one singular time.

He can hear the multiple footsteps before the door opens, and he's prepared himself to see your face again.

He needs to stay the way you know him. Any slip could mean you back away from him, and he doesn't know if his heart could take it after you've given him so much hope.

You stand between multiple guardsmen, your hands knit tightly together at your front. You look more on edge than when you'd first met, and he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. They probably just demanded you come with them to meet the Lord Regent and told you little else.

You could be going to your execution, for all you know. These guardsmen and his men in particular, whom you will be dealing much with shortly, lack the gentle finesse needed to treat someone like you properly.

He will treat you properly. He will make anyone you know pale in comparison, make the suitors you surely have fall to the wayside, once he bestows upon you a position and the respect you deserve.

He's in need of a diplomat. Or anyone that can adequately serve the role. He has little care of if you come from a family of such, you have the eloquent speech and attitude he needs for such a role. Your interest in languages and kind smile will help him momentously in repairing Ultramar in it's currently fractured state.

At least, that's what he tells himself. He knows that if he doesn't get you now, you might end up elsewhere, tasked under someone else and lost in the sea of the Imperium.

And he refuses to let you go.

"What do you need of me, Lord Guilliman?" He looks to you, and it's hard for him to keep his stoic expression.

"I suppose since we are familiar with one another, I can forgo the formal speech." He looks to the men that stand beside you, and the astartes that stand guard in the room as well.

"You all may leave. I wish to speak in private." The guardsmen leave without issue, but his men look at him oddly for a moment, before nodding their heads following suit. Once the door behind them closes, you step closer without the suffocation from his men all staring at you.

"I hope you do not mind the change in scenery; I know this is quite different than where we usually meet." His waroom is legions different than the gentle balcony where you both usually meet, though he hopes sending his men away calmed your suspicions a bit.

"But now that we are alone, I wish to speak with you." Guilliman glances away for a moment as he formats his words, trying to find the best way to voice his thoughts without startling you away. He has you so close, you can't pull back now. He won't allow it.

"I am in need of a diplomat. One that will serve at my side. In our conversations you have shown to be nothing short of the intelligent and kind woman I would need for such a role."

Your eyes are wide, and he sees the knot in your throat bob as you swallow. "Will you accept the offer?"

He knows you won't refuse it. He phrased it as a question, but no one would ever deny such a offer from him. He knows from your private conversations, you telling him of your passions and dreams, that you've longed for such a role. He'll give you exactly what you desire, and it brings you all the closer to him.

"I, I would be honored, Lord Guilliman." The moment those words leave your lips, Guilliman resists the urge to sigh in relief. Even though he had not a doubt in his mind you would say yes, it still makes his heart race.

He knew you were the perfect person for this, the perfect one for him- he would've hated having to use force in order to show you such, he doesn't want you to fear him the way others do.

"That is good." Guilliman smiles softly, and gestures for you to come closer with his left gauntlet.

"Then we have much to go over, if you would stay with me for awhile."

[fox-guardian]

Your Anti-Jimmy thoughts might be contagious because now I'm thinking of him and oughhh. I think you said your Anti versions of the characters would be more grounded, except Curly because there's something wrong with him (so true lol), and that they wouldn't like his vibes. Are they all a bunch of pessimists who think he's just straight up annoying, like there's not even a hint of begrudging fondness to be found from anyone there? Is there a small part of them that *want* to treat him better, but they're so stuck in the cycle that they never break it? Does he know that and it makes it hurt worse???? Goooooooooood that'd be so sad; what capitalism does to mfers, someone free them!!!! :(

I have unfortunately not been thinking too much about daisuke and swansea and the depths of how they feel about him, but generally they All find him at least a little annoying. He's loud, incompetent, and has a tendency to piss off the captain, which puts everyone else on edge. The other half of their dislike of him is probably misdirected.

Like I imagine anti-daisuke as very driven and a bit spiteful and Not Very Social and he has this weirdo trying to *gag noise* bond with him by talking about cartoons and music and shit while he's TRYING to work on his INTERNSHIP. He's stressed about that, and takes it out on the guy trying to provide him with a friend while he's away from home for over a year. He finds Jimmy's nickname for him to be condescending. He's tired of him calling him "lil bro".

Swansea.... I have thought so little about him. Heartbreaking. He's probably not especially awful to him. He mostly just regards him as an incompetent idiot that means well but never should've been put on this ship. He has swansea's sympathy, but he's not gonna risk stepping up to help him in any way, not with how the captain reacts to perceived "insubordination".

Anya despises him. He's annoying, shit at his job, and keeps making her do her job because he can't stay out of trouble. He keeps bothering her with his injuries and it pisses her off. At least it gives her something to talk to the captain about. She complains about jimmy, he agrees and complains back, they have a relatively positive relationship. And as long as she keeps herself above jimmy in the captains eyes, maybe he'll keep taking his frustrations out on him, and never turn to her.

Jimmy wishes he could be closer to the rest of the crew, but he's understanding. They're all busy with their jobs and tired and don't have time to talk. He tries to be nice and social, but would hate to be a bother so he tries to stay out of the way. He wishes they had more time for game nights, but Cur- The Captain is so strict about the 5 hour leisure time limit. He'd hate to get anyone else in trouble for going over. It's bad enough that he has to deal with the captain's unique style of discipline, but as long as no one else is going through it too, he can just about bear it.

Curly doesn't know why he thought it'd be a good idea to get Jimmy to fly with him as his copilot. He regrets it every day, but at least it's better than being associated with a minimum wage bum.

[the-kr8tor]

hihi!! I hope you're having a great day and a new year!

I have a small fic request (u can take it any other forms u want, all up to you!) Can I request a fic where reader asked Hobie if he would rather elope instead of a normal wedding? Since he doesn't like the idea of getting marriage (My hc by the way). Eloping is still kinda like a wedding but just the two of them! No loud music, not alot of money spent etc etc! U can write on how they would do it!

(also I'd like to imagine this is them getting 'enganged' before having the twins HEEHHEHEHE) (i hope this isn't too much) (i would love to see on how you'd write this!!)

reader can be gn or FEM btw :)

Thank you for the adorable request 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Brown/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: No use Y/N, no specific description of the reader (r is mentioned wearing makeup though), lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie watches you sing with the band that's currently playing further away on stage. He dragged you out behind all the crowd so you could properly enjoy the concert without getting elbowed by someone. He doesn't mind standing that far from the stage since he gets to see you dance unabashedly when there aren't a lot of people this far back.

The music isn't that loud from where you're both standing, helping Hobie hear your singing, providing a front row seat to your very own concert. He thinks you deserve top billing from how you belt out the lyrics.

The strobe lights illuminate your face, lighting up your best features, add it up with the moonlight shining directly at you like your very own spotlight, he can't get his eyes off you, lips softly smiling, fondness seeping out from his pores.

You feel his stare before you feel his featherlight touch atop your arm, knuckles brushing on your skin, goosebumps spreading through them like fire.

Grinning at him, you wipe sweat off your brow, guessing the summer heat has probably melted all of your makeup, thinking that you look worse for wear.

“Yeah, Hobs?” He once hated that nickname but with you saying it, it might as well be his given name. He loves it if it's you who says it.

Hobie has never seen you look so beautiful even with your mascara running down your cheeks. He's seen you at your worst, loved you more through it, and will continue to love you through your best too.

He loops his pinky around yours, clammy hands meeting equally clammy skin. He blames the weather for the lack of physical affection, if it weren't for the heat he'd be embracing you like a boa constrictor, taking your breath away without devouring you for dinner of course.

“You okay? You look like you're about to pass out. Do you want to sit down for a minute?”

His next words shocks you both.

“I have no idea where we go from here.”

“What?” You chuckle nervously. Maybe you should've worn waterproof mascara. “What are you saying, Hobie?” You forgo his pinky, opting to hold both his hands instead.

Your frown tells him he should've thought this through.

“Sorry,” he laughs shakily, none of the usual Hobie charisma you're used to. “I meant, fuck this is hard.” he's sweating, why did he decide to wear leather vest and heavy boots in this heat? He blames the weather for his shortcomings.

Your heart falls in your stomach. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?” words barely strung together with your tongue tied up.

“What? No!” Hobie backtracks in a split second. “No, love, that's not what I meant.” shaking his head, he removes his hands from yours, deepening your frown.

In an attempt to fix his blunder, he cups your face, thumbs rubbing just under your eyes, spreading the dark ink all over your skin. He definitely needed to think it all through.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, mascara running with the wetness, turning you into one of the heavy metal band mates that played a couple hours ago.

“Shit!” He roams his face around the concert hall, not knowing how to fix the situation.

“What did you really mean, Hobie?” You sob, balling his shirt in your hands tightly.

Hobie inhales and exhales, collecting his thoughts properly. “We're living together.”

“Uh huh.” You nod, confused.

“We clearly love each other.”

“You're just stating the obvious.” you pause your weeping when he groans in frustration. “What is happening?”

“I–” his next words surprises you more than him. “I wanna fuckin' marry you, love.”

You blink rapidly, tilting your head, utterly flabbergasted. “Huh?”

“That's what I meant with ‘I have no idea where we go from here.’” he sighs, facepalming, pursing his lips. “I want to take another step forward with you, but fuckin' hell I hate the bloody pomp and circumstance of it all.” A smile spreads across your face with every word he says.

Did he just ask for your hand in marriage?

“At the same time I don't think we have to marry just so people would know how committed we are to each other.” He's rambling and you smile wider through mascara filled tears. “Not to mention the fuckin' government knowing about all of it, seriously, why can't they just mind their own business about—”

“Hobs,” it's your turn to hold his face, he stops speaking, his chest heaving, eyes glued to you. “Let's elope then.” Hobie mentally conks himself right on the head for not thinking that. “just us, no two hundred guests, no thousands of pounds needed for the ceremony, no stuffy officiant. Just us and our vows.”

Hobie laughs at himself before he places his head on your shoulder, he can't believe he just asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Nosing your neck, he embraces you fully, swinging you slightly to the music that's definitely not for slow dancing. Holding on to him, you kiss his hairline, tracing it with your lips.

While Hobie recuperates from his blunder, you on the other hand feel like you're about to burst out of the seams, flooding the entire venue with your love for the man before you.

After the song ends and they announce the new act, with the roar of the crowd Hobie has one last thing to add.

“Let's do it now.” Hobie lifts his head, facing you in all your glory, heart shaped eyes staring at him affectionately, face aglow with so much love that Hobie can feel it flowing directly to his chest. “Let's elope right now, say our vows, we don't need an officiant to declare us married when the band corroded coffin works just as fine.”

“With a few hundred witnesses and a cover band as our wedding singers?” You loop your arms around his neck, linking your fingers together just to hold him closer. Nodding, you can't help but giggle. “Sure, let's do it right now.”

“You first.” Hobie thinks he chose right.

“Nu-huh, you asked, you go first.”

With a joking huff and a thumping heart, he eggs you on.

“I think the bride goes first.”

“Yeah? You've been to a ton of weddings?”

He laughs, the sound is better than the band playing in the background. And in that musky concert hall, underneath the stars and strobe lights, you do your vows.

“Okay, I'll go first.” You clear your throat, hands shaking not from nerves but from excitement. “I vow to always mend your wounds when you get home.” He smiles, eyes shining with unshed happy tears. “But I can't promise that I won't complain and nag you the entire time.”

Chuckling, you continue. “I vow to always be understanding, and to love you until I'm six feet under ground and even then I'd continue to love the shit out of you, Hobart Larry Brown. Even love your government name.”

Hobie can't help in anymore so he leans in but you stop him with your hand shielding your lips.

“You're horrible.” His words lack venom, all love and endearment pointed at you.

“I just vowed to love you unconditionally and you call me horrible?” Your words are muffled that he barely understood it. Yet he still pecks the top of your hand, to satisfy his need to kiss you. “You're not allowed to kiss me, not until we finish our vows.”

He rolls his eyes comically and you laugh. Your lips hurt from all the smiling.

Face hot, (not from the weather) you wipe his cheek free from sweat, leaving your hand to grasp his face. You hope it's enough to convey how utterly in love you are with him.

“My turn?”

“Mm-hmm”

Hobie inhales, he has fought a bunch of villains who wanted to end him but asking you if you want to marry him has him more terrified than facing green goblin. He's exhausted just from that. But he's more than ready to do this, to make his vows. It's only you isn't it? The love of his life who's currently staring at him warmly.

He's glad you agreed to elope, he can't imagine doing this in front of a hundred guests.

“I vow to always come home even when I'm beat up and bloodied. I'll crawl just to get to you.”

If your makeup wasn't ruined before it's properly ruined now with how much tears you're letting out. A few people look at you two weirdly.

“I vow to make time for you, I'd sacrifice sleep if you ask me.” He whispers the next line. “I'm serious. That's how much I love you.”

You laugh through the tears, gripping his collar, it might look like you're about to beat him up but you're actually holding back from snogging the shit out him.

“I promise to love you as long as you let me.” Hobie takes one of his rings off his finger, a favourite of his, a promise to you. The word wife slips his tongue and it has you almost fainting.

That got you and now you're sobbing your heart out. But after a beat, he lifts your face by your chin to let him look at you, he's right, he chose the right one.

“How does forever sound?” you manage to let out, lips still wobbly.

“Perfect. Forever sounds bloody perfect.” He leans once again, this time you don't stop him.

“You may kiss the sweaty bride.” You laugh and you kiss your husband.