#already. this has gotten out of hand /pos

[size-two-shrimp]

Finally done with the first big section of the V2 fic!

I have roughly 2/3 to go but I have this silly feeling that it's going to be longer than my current estimate of 8k words.

[dilfsfordinner]

honeymoon- nanami kento x wife!reader

a/n- in preparation for this week’s episode, this is my ode to my husband

warnings- fem!reader, unprotected sex, praise, missionary pos, mating press, belly bulge, nanami has a big d, implied breeding kink, fluffff

—————————————————————————

Nanami Kento had been dreaming of a vacation. Somewhere with sand and palm trees, warm weather, the ocean, you. Now it would take a lot for him to admit this because he’s not a dreamer, per se, especially with his strict work ethic, but the amount of times he had to catch himself during a shift from drifting off in a fantasy about sleeping in or relaxing on the beach, you could say he had started to reflect his child-like self.

Except every single one of those dreams could not rival the feeling of experiencing his honeymoon with you. He’d gotten what he wanted. A private villa, surrounded by greenery with a whole rainbow of colors blessing the space. Red, orange, pink, and especially white flowers would pop out from the dense leaves of the tropical garden that was essentially your front yard, their sweet perfume just light enough to not be too overbearing. The villa was perched in a cluster of palms, the white-sand beaches of the Caribbean literally at your disposal by a pathway from your bedroom, its wood-lined trail leading down to a private oceanside cove of sand and the most vivid aquamarine water you’d ever seen.

It had been five days since the two of you had arrived at your little oasis, 120 hours of complete and utter relaxation accompanied by sheer happiness. You could barely contain your excitement for the trip when he’d announced the surprise destination a month before your wedding, and that giddiness you were once feeling was multiplied tenfold. Kento Nanami was finally your husband. The man you had fallen for was now tied to you legally and emotionally, the two of you matching with the golden bands placed upon your fingers, yours just a tad bit more extravagant with the stone you had dreamt of forged perfectly into the smooth metal.

Your favorite gift you had received though was once again from your husband. It had been given on the day of your wedding, a little white, bow-tied box placed in your hands before the reception. Upon opening it, you were met with a pretty bracelet, a twisted chain of pure platinum so uniformly perfect, you knew your husband had picked it. Your favorite part however, was the tiny charm hanging from the chain, a cursive “k” inscribed into the precious material, a clear sign of your newly wed’s hand in the purchase. “I’m yours now,” he had whispered into your hair, kissing away a stray tear from your cheek before helping you clasp the delicate chain around your wrist.

For days you had thanked him any way you could for his kindness, the two new additions he’d gifted so beautifully thoughtful, gifts that certainly garnered a lot of attention, especially when it came to some.. exerting activities.

It was like the atmosphere had turned you two into animals, your bodies sore from the endless (sorry for lack of a better word), fucking, the tension so thick you could feel it heavy in your chest, the warm, salty breeze flowing through the mesh, white curtains of your bedroom doing nothing to help calm your lustful state.

It was nearly dusk and your current session had started about an hour ago, any and every position you could think of already tried, your body turned and flipped a multitude of times before you were placed on your back again, thighs pushed up against your chest, your legs falling over your husband’s broad shoulders.

Your throat was dry from the fountain of moans constantly spilling from your mouth, Nanami’s name starting to sound like an imaginary word from the amount of times you’d choked out the syllables. Don’t be too embarrassed though because he was just as knocked as you, his skin flush from exertion, sweat dampening his blonde locks, and his usually cool tone of voice had turned desperate, your own name a slurred grumble or groan every time he felt you clench around him.

Your silky, white nightgown had been discarded long ago, the little scrap of fabric on the floor reminding you of what had started this escapade in the first place. The memory of Nanami’s eyes darkening when you’d emerged for bedtime had your stomach tightening and eyes squeezing shut. You’d known him for who knows how long and he still managed to make you feel like a horny teenager with just one look.

“My perfect wife,” he panted into your neck, heavy cock nudging your deepest parts, you could feel him in your belly, could even see him in your belly, the area below your navel molding just slightly into the shape of his cock every time he would push into you.

Your skin was glowing from the last remnants of sunlight reaching through the gauzey curtains, the ocean waves gentle as they crashed along the shore, wrapping you in a cocoon of pure passion, the current moment so perfect and loving, one of Nanami’s hands snaking into your palm to ground you, the other resting beside your head as he kissed the tender curve of your neck.

He was a warm lover. Caring, romantic, a listener. Someone who focuses on giving instead of stealing pleasure. That’s why it was so easy to give him your trust, to open yourself up to him emotionally, and physically. Someone who easily outshined anyone when it came to choosing who to share your remaining years with.

Your ring fingers clinked together when he pushed into you with a particularly needy thrust, the golden bands once again twining as his fingers curled over your own in a firm lock. “Only yours,” you whimpered out, voice almost breaking from your very vulnerable position, your chest compromised as your legs were propped up, the backs of your thighs fitting against his chest, folding over his shoulders at the knees.

Not only did your words drive him crazy, but the little jingle he would hear every time his hips connected with your own had his eyebrows knitting with some primal need to actually make you his. The bracelet he’d gifted you had ended up clasped around your delicate ankle, the silver charm glinting his initial in the low lights, every little reflection catching his peripheral, spurring him on. You had done it on purpose. You had known he would have you folded sooner or later and you knew how much he loved to mark you, that piece of jewelry a literal signing of his name on you.

Your mouths latched onto each other, hurried kisses ending in heavy breaths against each other’s face or neck, eventually your foreheads being the place of rest as he continued to fuck you with every ounce of energy in his body.

“-love you, s’much,” you murmured, voice lilting with the rising pleasure in your core, his thick length prodding every ridge you had to offer, that spongey spot of nerves catching his head with every pass, eliciting a gasp from your lips, Nanami’s jaw clenching as he held himself back from completely plowing into you, your approaching climax drawing a rush of liquid from your twitching cunt, trickling onto his thighs.

“I love you,” he kissed you this time, his strong hand fisting the sheets beside your head, the other still clutching onto your hand as he knocked the breath from your lungs, his cock feeling like a full-blown spear impaling you, the only thing keeping you sane being his mouth on you, and the sweet-nothings groaned from his lips.

***

It was dark by the time you two had truly finished with each other, your body curled up in Nanami’s lap as he lounged with you on the large chairs placed outside the curtains of your bedroom, the moonlight bouncing off the waves as they continued their trek across the shore.

His nimble fingers traced gentle shapes on your back, your upper body covered by his blue shirt, dwarfing your form in a pool of fabric, Nanami modeling your “half-nakedness” with only a pair of boxers, his strong legs visible to your very sleepy, but eager eyes.

Some type of tropical, cricket creature hummed a pretty song, coaxing your eyelids to flutter, your body sinking further into your husband’s hold, your cheek nestled gently against the soft curves of his collarbone, his heartbeat steady in your ear.

Taking note of your drifting consciousness, Nanami smiled down at your curled up form, fingers slowly letting up on their brief massage session to brace his hold. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, kissing the top of your hair with such tenderness you almost agreed to get up and listen, but he was just so warm and cozy.

Pretending to not hear him, you put on your best sleeping face, mouth opening slightly to really pull it off, the tiniest of snores leaving you in a very convincing manner. Silence followed your antics before a rumble vibrated from the chest of the man you lied on, a soft laugh leaving him as he took in your ‘sleeping state’, a laugh that had your lips twitching, a smile almost breaking out on your face.

“What a shame.. the Mrs. has fallen asleep on me,” he sighed, voice filled with faux sorrow, and when he relaxed back into the chair, you thought the victory was yours, nuzzling back against his chest to comfortably relax again. That was.. before your world was turned upside down, a yelp echoing from your throat as Nanami hoisted you over his shoulder, your bottom cradled by his large hand as he smiled that stupid smile of his and trekked back into the bedroom, all fatigue gone from the two of you, replaced with the teasing air of aching want.

——————————————————————————

[hypewinter]

Hal bent down as the little girl approached him. Even then, he still managed to tower over her with how small she was.

"Hey there little lady," he said. "Anything I can help you with this fine evening?"

The little girl looked at him anxiously, fiddling with her hands. Ok so not a nervous fan. Hal immediately switched to serious mode, scanning the crowd for anyone who could be her parents. He didn't see anyone running up to the two of them or even so much as keeping a watchful eye from a distance.

"Is something the matter?" Hal questioned, making sure to keep his voice even and calm.

The girl continued fidgeting, her big blue eyes scanning from side to side. Finally she spoke. "You wiff da space po-eece yes? Not da am-ear-ree-ca one?"

Hal smiled at the girl. "Yes, I'm with the space police." Honestly that was oversimplifying the Corps a little but he had long since gotten to citizens calling him a space cop.

The girl offered up a small nervous smile of her own. "So you won't tell da gov-ment what I tell you wight?"

Hal was on high alert now. Just what was this little girl trying to tell him? "I won't tell. I promise," he said after a second.

The girl broke into a big smile at this. "Really? Dis way den." She started tugging Hal along and he began to follow.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked.

"You see," was all she replied.

Hal was led down a couple different alleyways and was beginning to think he was walking into a trap when they reached an abandoned building. The girl dashed in and up the old rusted stairs, with Hal following closely behind her.

If this really is a trap, I'll never hear the end of it from Batman, he thought morbidly as he cleared the last step. Instead of finding himself facing an ambush however, he saw a boy curled up on an old mattress. The girl was already by his side as Hal approached.

"Don wowee Danny, I got help. Like I said I would," he caught the little girl whispering as he knelt down next to the boy. He had to have been older than the girl. Three years older maybe? Yet he was still so small. Hal took sight of his condition. He was in pain. That much was certain by his little face scrunched up in agony and his quiet moans. He was also sweating profusely. His raven black hair sticking to his forehead. Fever maybe?

Hal continued his observations as he scanned down the boy's body until he got to his stomach. The boy was clutching it and Hal could make out blood bleeding through from underneath. Oh no.

He quickly yet carefully removed the boy's arm to get a better look at the wound. The kid let out a groan as his arm was peeled away. Hal couldn't help but thank Oa for all his training that helped prevent him from letting out a gasp.

The boy's chest was covered in blood. Dark red mixed with flecks of green soaked through his shirt and there were bandages that had been amateurishly tied around the wound.

"How did this happen?" Hal asked, turning back to the girl. He did his best to keep his tone as gentle as possible.

Her smile was gone now, and her eyes welled up with tears. "He pwotected me," she said. "Dey wanted to huwrt us. Dey shot at us. Danny pwotected me."

Anger boiled within Hal. Who would shoot at these children? They were only little kids. If what the girl had said earlier was anything to go off of, the answer had something to do with the government. He would have to take care of that later though. For now, this boy needed medical attention.

"Let's get Danny to a hospital," Hal said resolutely, as he got up.

"No!" the little girl screeched. "No has-pee-tail. Too dan-er-us!"

"But he needs-" Hal started but then he met the girl's eyes. There was abject fear in them. As if going to the hospital would be a death sentence for both children. Where else were they supposed to go though? The boy- Danny needed medical attention stat. That much was certain.

Hal paused. There was one place. He sighed. Batman was going to kill him for this.

"Okay okay. No hospital. But what about space?"

"Space?" the girl repeated.

Hal nodded.

The little girl smiled. "Danny lobes space!"

"Well then. That's perfect."

Hal constructed a new bed for the boy, carefully easing him onto it before putting a protective dome around both children. The little girl giggled as he lifted them up. He then turned to the wall where he created a giant hammer to knock it down. Then they were off. Flying higher and higher, towards the atmosphere. As the Watchtower got closer in sight, Hal couldn't help but groan. Taking civilians to the Watchtower? Oh yeah, Batman was definitely going to kill him.

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Loss | Nico Hischier x Reader

inspired by the song crazy in love- remix by Beyoncé

Warnings: language, argument, cool off, makeup sex, breeding kinks, unprotected smut!!! BE SAFE PLZZ (very small amount of smut at the end, really only a makeup blurb)

Summary: after the devils lost their last game that could’ve gotten them into the playoffs, Nico takes the loss personally.

💭: JACK THEN LUKE 🩷🤞

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The ride home from the game was the loudest silence I’ve heard. Nico was the last one off the ice and the first one to leave the locker room. He was in a rush to get home.

No comments on any conversation I made, no road rage, no hand on my thigh, no post game kisses. If anything, I’m scared he’ll leave.

Nico would never do anything to hurt me, but when it comes to hockey, he’ll most definitely pick the sport over me. I’m okay knowing his career is a bigger deal than me, because of how big of a deal hockey is to everyone else.

I mean he’s captain. He should be working his ass off and not just for the spot as C, but for everyone to respect him.

“Nico. You know if you need to-“ Nico cuts me off.

“I don’t need to talk about it.” He shoots out. I think i see actual steam coming out of his ears. Before we head home, Nico stopped by a grocery store to pick up a snack.

He gets out of the car and didn’t open my door. “Well i guess I’m not going with.” I mutter to myself.

I see Nico walk into the store, he has tears in his eyes, I watch him walk away, hands up to his face. He’s wiping the tears away.

Real men show emotion.

“God.” I scream in frustration. I take my shoes off, i let my socks hand out, leaving my puffer jacket on i slide my purse off.

I take my phone out of my pocket from my jeans, I’m tired of it, seriously, why am I getting blamed.

~text~

i want choco pretz. (You)

send me $$ then. (Nico)

nvm. (You)

Read (Nico)

~

what a bitch.

Nico comes out of the store with four plastic bags on each side of his arms. He stuffs the goods into the backseats.

“So, what did you get?” I ask him. I don’t my pretzels.

“Your chocolate pretzels- and your gummies.” He slides his arm into a bag sitting behind my seat. He takes his hand and throws the bag of pretzels at me. My eye gets hit, I have a red mark lining through my eyebrow to the bottom of my nose- acrooss my eyelid.

~

We made it home. Nico already had dinner, and i ate Mac and cheese before the game. “Dinner in five. Be ready or I’m going to bed.” Nico says. He walks into the house, leaving me to open my own door and take my own bag. He leaves his hockey gear in the trunk and he gathers the grocery bags.

He loads the bags into the kitchen leaving him to unload them. I walk into the bedroom we share and i take my get ready bag, some makeup, and pjs and i wlak into the guest bedroom.

“Where are you going?” He snaps at me. He whips his head around to look at the hallway I’m in, facing our bedroom he sees the empty space of a bed I slept in.

I took my pillow, my personal blanket, and my phone charger. It looks like we broke up and i no longer had a life in this house. The vanity i sat in every morning is dark, and empty.

“Where does it look like?” I responded. I implied i was leaving for the night by gesturing to the pillow and small blanket in my hands that I wasn’t sleeping in the bed tonight.

“Sure as hell you’re but sleeping in the guest, and you’re not sleeping in your car.” He shouts at me. Nico gets angry easily, obviously not always at me but he was already upset about the game, I didn’t wnat to be around him.

I rolled my eyes and snarked at him. I walk into the room and shut the door. I immediately lock it setting my stuff down on the bed.

“Let me fucking in the room y/n. Open the stupid door.” He screams out for me.

“Just fucking cook dinner!” I yell back. I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at the fact he shuts me out and gets mad at me for trying.

~

Eventually I smell the food go cold, I don’t smell the warm hot steam from the food, so I open the door, I poke me head out. The bedroom door is shut. The lights are off. “Maybe he’s sleeping.” I whisper to myself.

Nico is no where in sight, so I leave the room I was hiding in. I grabbed a plate of whatever he made for dinner and popped it in the microwave.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nico grabs my hips. “I need to talk.” He motions me to the couch.

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?” I roll my eyes and scoff. Ridiculous.

I switch the lights on as I sit my pretty ass kn the couch. “Why talk now? It’s like 1:24 am.” I glance at the clock that sits above our stove.

“I’m sorry I lashed out on you.” He says.

“I love you, and I care about you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” I insisted. The microwave goes off. My food is ready.

We let the food go off. Nico picks me up from the couch. He rubs me over to the bed we share. I had bought this body oil from Victoria’s Secret because it smelt good. Naturally I thought I could put it in my hair, but of course Nico had different plans.

“Turn, clothes. Off.” He sighs as he catches his breath from running around. He slides his sweatpants off, keeps his shirt on.

He spanks my ass. I can feel the stinging pain throughout my whole body.

“Makeup sex to distract me?” I laugh.

“Is it working?” Nico asks as he puts a towel down near my body. He opens the plastic bottle. Pouring the cold oil onto my back he massages into me.

Glitter specks and the rich perfume fragrance fills the room. I feel slippery.

“My turn.” I say. No hesitation I get up and push Nico down. I tear his shirt off of him. Leaving him with his boxers on. I look down motioning to take them off.

He does.

I see a very large cock perked up towards me.

“Gross.” I laugh as turn around to take my bra and tight thing off.

I let Nico lay on his forearms as I run the oil around his abs. He sucks on my hard nippples as I massage the oil into his warm body. I jump onto him. Straddling him, my back facing his face. He pulls me forwards.

I slip, falling face first onto his dick.

I suck o to his cock, Nico lays back, pulling my legs apart, setting them next to his ears.

My pussy opens for him right on his face. He licks every inch of me, I feel a spurt come into my mouth as I suck harder. He jolts yo and down telling me to stop. I can’t.

~

He thrusts harder into me. Pushing his top into my lungs. I feel very heartbeat from his cock into my own pussy.

He pulls out, letting his cum squirt outside of me. I lay flat on my back waiting for him. He pushes three fingers inside and I can feel him wiggle the around looking for something to tease me with.

He lets the oil smother me. The towel wets my hair from all of the oil that pooled into the crevasses of the linen.

Nico takes his fingers out of me and stuffs it I tibuso mouth. Sucking his fingers clean he kisses me. Shoving his tounge down my throat. Massaging every bit of my mouth with his.

I feel his stubble rub against my face. I enjoy knowing he thinks I’ll forget all of the argument within the 19 minute blowjob.

I feel his cock fall onto my lap.

“This should be here, I should be in here.” I pull Nico’s face off of mine. I grab his cock and push it off of my skin, I point to my ribs.

Nico laughs, he thrusts once inside of me, he grips onto my hair falling just to me after he finishes inside me.

Once again he pumps himself into me. This time I do feel him in my ribs.

~

“Goodnight.” I say as I pick up my clean towel and I get in the shower.

“You’re not sleeping in here? Can I shower with you?” Nico runs after me, rubbing my lower stomach.

“I’m tired.” I grunt. And I walk away. “You can shower after me.” I wink as I leave to turn on the hot water.

[darkbluekies]

Can we have a sneak peak of ur upcoming ficc😩🙏 (ignore this if ur not comfortable)

of course <3

These two are the ones I've gotten far enough to know for certain that they will be published. I have a few more that I've only started on which future is unknown, but let me know of you want to see them too♡

Golden trial pt 2:

 Running along your left are cabins and to your right are windows. Silas opens a door and directs you inside the cabin. It’s a suite, and a gorgeous one a that. A king sized bed, couches, big windows, drapes and your own bathroom. Hedwig and Edmund sits on the couch doctor Kry is leaning against the window. Behind him, America swooshes past. 

“Here he is”, Jerry says.

“What’s going on?” you stutter. “What do you want?”

“We are not going to let you be alone in cargo hold”, Silas says. “We are not monsters.”

I’d beg to differ.

“We’ve decided that you are going to be by our sides so that we can keep an eye on you”, Hedwig says and smiles. “If you are in the cargo hold you could die.”

“You’re not going to wear the leash because that will cause people to be suspicious”, Doctor Kry says. “Yes, we are not the only ones on this train.”

“You will not talk to any of them”, Jerry says. 

“You will stay here in my cabin”, Silas says. “My second in command will be in Jerry’s cabin, so don’t think that you can do anything towards me. He’ll be just on the other side of the wall.”

He’s here too? 

Everyone leaves the suite but Silas. You sink down on the bed with your head in your hands. 

“Why do you do this?” you whisper.

Silas sits down beside you. “You did this to yourself”, he says, voice weirdly calm. “You put your nose into the wrong business, knowing that it could put your life in danger.”

“It was my job.”

Was. 

“I still don’t understand why they sent you on that ship without backup … or any kind of protection at all besides that pitiful gun. Almost like they wanted you to get caught.” Silas furrows his dark brows and looks at you, unreadable hint in his black eyes. “Are you even sure if they liked you at all?”

This has to be some kind of scare-tactic. Don’t fall for it.

“Of course they did”, you mumble. “I had a high position, a good salary … they liked me. They did.”

“Are you saying that to reassure me or you?”

Silas stands up and breathes out. 

“Let’s go eat lunch, I’m starving”, he says. “You must be hungry too, I heard from Hedwig that you didn’t eat dinner last night. Come now.”

Silas walks out of the room, holding the door open out to the corridor. His words ring in your mind. Who are you trying to reassure?

“I’m not waiting all day”, Silas calls out. “You’re not getting lunch if you stay in there.”

You hurry to stand up and follow him out to the corridor, having to pass him on the way. The thin corridor is big enough for one of you. He walks closely behind you, peering over your shoulder. You’re led into a restaurant car with tables of four, each having seats instead of tables. The carriage is divided in two with a with a glass wall with open space where a door normally sits. Silas chooses one of these seats. 

“Sit down”, he says. “Now. By the window.”

You give him a questionable look before sitting down in the seat closest to the window. Silas sits down beside you, blocking your escape to the middle aisle. His second in command is already sitting by the table in the seat in front of you. Silas holds three menus laying on the set table in front of you, giving you one. 

“Choose what you want”, he says. “I have money.”

“I don’t doubt that”, you mumble. “With your dirty businesses you must make a lot of money?”

Silas scoffs, but there’s a small smile tugging on his lips. “More than you can imagine, Golden Boy.”

Vacation with Silas family (no name yet)

In the living room you see two men situated on couches opposite each other. One you recognise and one you haven’t met before. The older man is an older version of Silas and the other one … Ares. Upon seeing him Silas tenses behind you and is quick to switch your positions. Ares smirks and rises from the couch.

“Silas, my brother”, he smiles.

“I’m not going to pretend that we’re friends for mom and dad”, he says in english, sounding monotone. “We can be civil at most.”

Ares looks at you, smile widening. “Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

“Ares”, Silas warns. “While we’re here you’re not going to talk to them.”

“They’re my sister/brother in law.”

“They’re nothing to you, because I don’t consider us family.”

“Silas”, you whisper in an attempt to stop the situation from escalating.

Silas glances at you and sighs, letting his shoulders fall.

Their father rises and shakes your hand. You smile at him. When he starts to talk to Silas, you feel a pair of hands on your shoulder and turn to see his mother wanting you to follow her. You come with her to the kitchen where you see multiple pots on the stove. She feeds you a spoonful of the different dishes and looks for your approval. You use your limited Greek to tell her that the dishes taste better than anything Silas has ever cooked for you before. The woman claps her hands together and gives you a bright smile. Even though you don’t speak the same language, you feel like you understand her fully.

“Y/N, come”, Silas says with his arms crossed over his chest. “We will have to decide the sleeping arrangements.”

You walk over to him and Ares. Their body languages are stiff, the air thick.

“We are taking the guest room”, Silas says coldly to his brother, “and you are staying out of it.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Ares questions.

“Fuck do I know? With mom and dad?”

Ares scoffs. Silas grabs your arm and pulls you upstairs before any of them have time to say more. He opens a door and lets you go inside. He closes the door behind the two of you. The room lacks pretty much a personality, the only thing in here being a bed and a wardrobe. There are a painting of the sea and a succulent, nothing more. Silas sits down on the bed and runs his hand through his black hair.

“Fucking hell”, he breathes out and looks up at you. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive a week with him!”

[lowkeyrobin]

reader has had a crush on Rory since they were kids when they kissed (for practice ofc) but rory just has eyes for Erica and it breaks reader's heart but is still supportive cause as long as rory is happy so are they and SOMETHING happens which means reader is slowly dying and rory doesn't realizes his feeling until it's too late and reader dies in his arms.....

holy shit Alex you are evil. when I said angsty mbav I didn't realize you took that personally 😭🙏 /lh /pos

RORY KEANER ; you don't know what you have until you lose it

summary ; you like rory, but he doesn't reciprocate

warnings ; language, death, talk of throwing up, influenced by some music bc I was listening to sleep token LMAO

track ; take me back to eden ; sleep token

word count ; 1.5k

masterlist

The only good thing about living in Ontario, Canada, was your friend group, the Supernatural Squad. Although you were just the comedic relief, you were the most reasonable and level-headed. You were still a staple to the group. You weren't very supernatural, however. Just an ordinary human who happened to be friends with a bunch of vampires, a witch/wizard, Benny couldn't decide on a damn label, and a seer.

You and Rory and Benny and Ethan were the two duos of the group that'd been together the longest. Benny and Ethan met in middle school, and you and Rory met in 4th or 5th grade when he moved to White Chapel. Sarah and Erica met in their freshman year, having been bonded over the lack of friends and their good grades in English and history classes.

You and Rory were a different kind of close. In every universe, you knew you'd met each other, one way or another. He was the funny, dim-witted vampire who was still a geek even through his transformation into puberty and vampirism. You, on the other hand, remain the second half of his comedy troupe, the smart and level-headed companion he needed to keep him mentally stable through all these new, weird things he was going through. He'd forever be 15 while you grew older, something you weren't too worried about right now.

You remembered like it was yesterday when you shared a first kiss for "practice." It was practice, really, Rory wanted to know how to kiss before he tried asking Erica out. However, for you, that was the problem. You didn't want it to be practice for him to be able to woo over Erica.

There was no doubt that Erica, the tall, blonde, vampire, was hot. Hell, if you weren't already head over heels for the younger blonde, you'd totally date her. But, that was the whole thing, he had googly eyes for Erica and you just solemnly looked at him with love stuck in yours like a curse.

But, of course, Rory hadn't learned about the phrase "you don't know what you have until you lose it." He wasn't expecting to lose you, nor was he aware that he even had you wrapped around his finger.

During the final fight with Vice Principal Stern, you'd gotten hurt, and hid it from your friends ; you saved White Chapel for good, ridding the town of evil. You didn't want to sour the mood about a wound that would heal itself, and you didn't want your friends worrying about something so small that'd disappear in time.

Stern hit you with a purplish magenta light-beam from his staff, leaving a very painful, burn-looking wound on your side. Over time, it didn't heal like you hoped it would, if anything it only looked worse, like your skin was decaying.

You had it wrapped up nearly 24/7 to prevent infection, the grey-ish skin was pruney and nasty looking from the amount of moisture. You'd only been living through the pain thanks to a lot of Tylenol, which you probably took a little bit too much of sometimes on accident. The center of the wound was a weird purple color, like a bruise, and it branched off like veins almost. It ran down your hip and up your torso, a grey color, acting as if you were a rotting corpse or something.

The theory was that it'd heal over time or completely disappear after a way since Stern was gone. But obviously, those were both incorrect.

You touch the wound, feeling a sharp pain radiate through the area as you pull your fingers away with a grimace. Your next idea was to ask Benny for a potion or something to help it go away. I mean, he had to have had some wound-dissolving spell or potion laying around somewhere, he was a witch for Christ's sake. It shouldn't be too hard to just ask for one.

That was easier said than done, however. He and Ethan wanted to know what it was for before he made it, and they wouldn't stop pressing after you said it was nothing. They eventually figured you out though, having been the first to notice and point out the veins spreading up to your collarbone and shoulders while you were all hanging out at Ethan's after school.

You kept telling them you were just tired and you had a cold, etcetera etcetera, the past few months, but after a while, they started to wonder why you were only looking worse. Then they persuaded you to just show them so they could help. You complied, showing them the wound you acquired from the final battle with Vice Principal Stern.

Ethan is the first to speak, quickly questioning you, "Dude, when and where did you get that?"

"Fighting Stern a couple of months ago." You shrug nonchalantly as you try your best to force your eyes open to stay awake, "Look, I just need something to make this heal or disappear, okay?"

Benny and Ethan share a worried look, barely able to look at your wound without cringing in disgust and the pain they felt for you.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

Within another agonizing week, Sarah, Erica, and of course, Rory, had found out as well. So much for secrets.

All that week, no amount of drugs or spells or potions could help your condition whatsoever. You would frequently throw up and would have to skip class to go to the nurses office or sit in the bathroom while your stomach twisted and turned inside of you. Rory tried helping you as much as he could, carrying your things and flying you straight home after school, but it didn't help much, neither did the magical help from Benny and his grandma, it was like you were immune to it at this point.

You lay in bed on your side, a trashcan accompanying you for any biohazards. The veins now climbed up your neck, your shoulders, and down your legs, your eyes were made heavy by suitcase sides bags under your eyes, it felt like your eyes were swollen, yet they weren't. Rory sits beside you, one hand rubbing your shoulder as you mindlessly babble on, his other hand holding an ice pack to your forehead as you experience heat flashes.

The four other teens stand outside your closed bedroom door, trying to think of any ways to help you. They wanted to convince your parents to take you to the doctors, but how would you explain the massive wound on your side. And how would you explain that you were now a walking corpse acting like a shitty father after a trip to the bar?

"Y'know, Rory, I've always liked you, like, like-liked you" You giggle, ruffling his hair. "You're adorable"

Rory lightly smiles, not taking your words to heart.

"Really, please listen to me, R" You quickly place your hands on his cheeks, cupping his face, "I like you. And I know you don't like me back and shit, you like Erica and you're constantly talking about it, but I want it off my chest before this stupid thing probably kills me or starves me out of my body"

The blonde boy blinks a few times, and wraps you in a hug. "I'm sorry" He mumbles, remembering the fact you were definitely on your last limb here, "You're the best, most awesome friend I could ever ask for, so you're not gonna die! Wait- could I turn you into a vampire and save you? Would that work?"

You shrug, not wanting to get too excited, I mean, the others probably already thought of that and imagined a bad outcome.

The four walk back in to see you resting your head on Rory's lap, probably sleeping as he speaks up, his speech moving a million miles an hour.

"What if we turn them into a vampire? Would that work? I mean, they'd become immortal, right?"

The four look to each other and shrug, positivity shining through their worried expressions.

"Did they say they wanted to try it?" Sarah asks, "It's a big devotion... I mean, this is literally life changing, maybe for the better"

Rory nodded, "They said to ask you"

Sarah nods down, looking at you, "Ask them, I'll be downstairs, I'm gonna make them some tea" She lightly smiles, dragging Erica along with her.

Rory shakes your shoulder with no response, your cheeks pale as the veins quickly crawl up your face. He gets a little more aggressive with it, calling your name, the fear showing in his voice.

"Y/n, Y/n, Y/n? Y/n? Y/n!"

Ethan stands frozen, seeing your entire face begin to be engulfed by the weird infection. Benny begins shouting for Sarah and Erica, sprinting down the stairs as quickly as possible. The blonde turns you face up, seeing blood trail out from your nose.

You were totally limp in his arms, a sense of calmness painting your face instead of the now usual pained and tired look. You seemed peaceful laying there while your whole body is painted in a spider web like pattern.

"Y/n/n, please, wake up! I can help you!"

No response, your chest wasn't even slowly rising or falling anymore, you were just a limp, heavy body laying on him.

Tears prick at the blonde's eyes as he stares at your relaxed features, wishing that just maybe he'd thought a little sooner.

Maybe if he just thought of that a little sooner, then you'd be okay.

[lace-coffin]

Ughhh i love all ur asa things they make me so happy to read!!!!(the ughhh in a /pos way)

But could you do something maybe if u want of asa headcannons where the reader cant sleep without a stuffed toy because it just comforts them to feel safer and they ask him for one over and over and refuses to sleep without one (literally me fr) and they would be violent snap back at him or ignores him till he gets them one and when they do they would become the nicest person ever and start obeying again and snuggle with it all the time AHHHH also the reader would be a house pet if u write about them being at his home instead of the hotel

sorry for the rlly bad grammer or whatever im writing this ask on phone+im trying to be specific because you said it’s easier but im not that good at being specific😭😭

(even if that’s childish to refuse to sleep without a stuffed toy i rlly relate to it so💔)

Thank u sm for the compliment omg!! Don’t worry about being specific if it’s hard for you, feel free to request in any way that makes you comfortable!

It’s not childish at all to sleep with a stuffed animal so don’t feel ashamed, I sleep with my stuffed lamb “lamby” every night and have since I was like 2, she also travels with me!

Asa Emory x gn!reader! Who needs a stuffed animal to sleep

Requests are closed (for now!)

“Please..I’ll be good”

“We’ve been over this, you’re not having her back until you can redeem yourself. End of conversation.”

—

Usually you were a relatively behaved pet, well maybe Asa was more lenient on you than has other “projects” back at the hotel, but well behaved to your standards. You had the privilege of being your masters house pet and significant other, love and submission were intrinsically connected for both you and Asa.

More lenient or not, Asa would be sure to let you know when you were in trouble, and you fucked up. Bad.

You’d been in a sour mood all day, nothing particularly bad had happened to ruin your day however it was like you were itching for an argument, nit picking everything and back chatting your owner, flat out refusing orders just to be a nuisance. It all came to a head during bed time, after squirming whilst being dressed and refusing to get into bed, Asa had already lost his patience with you. Taking it out on your phone that Asa had recently gifted you was the last straw.

During your struggle you’d grabbed your phone, using it as a projectile to ward him off, not only had you missed, you’d watch it hit the mirror, smashing both the glass and screen. After a moment of shock you retreat back into the bed you were vehemently avoiding the minute prior, tail between your legs in panic.

He understood sometimes it can be a lot in this dynamic considering how it came about from less favourable circumstances but today you’ve been pushing him to breaking point. Pushing his buttons on purpose and running from the consequences.

Asa stares back at you from your place in bed, hands flexing and unflexing. He pauses, taking a deep breath and holding for a few seconds to ground himself before releasing and addressing you.

“Sweep it up” he says sternly, gesturing to the dustpan and brush stored in the corner. You grimace but comply, not wanting to make things worse. You clean silently and efficiently, returning to your bed once you finish.

“Better. Now, I don’t know what has gotten into you today and I’m more than happy to talk if you need to but we both know you’ve been deliberately disobedient and destructive. So, I’ll be taking this-“ Asa grabs your stuffed toy sat beside you “until you can learn to behave and treat your things with respect”

Your eyes widen in shock and your fingers twitch with the need to grab it back, you refrain and lace them together, instead settling to give your owner a pouty pissed off look. You knew that having your belongings taken away was an agreed consequence for bad behaviour but it didn’t mean it sucked any less.

“Don’t give me that look doll, you can have her back when you show me you can behave ok? Until then she’s safe with me.” His voice is stern but soft enough to be reassuring, you know he’s not angry at you and he only wants the best for you.

After placing your plushie into his office and locking it he joins you in your shared bed, letting you cuddle up to his side.

Unsurprisingly you ask for her back the next morning despite literally only sleeping between then and last night. Also unsurprisingly he says no. “It’s only been a few hours cricket, you need to show me how you can be good for me, I know you can be such a sweet pup if you try” you huff but agree.

After two more attempts in the span of three hours you declare war. You can’t and won’t wait. In reality you’re afraid, you know you can’t sleep without her, last night was restless and anxiety filled, you didn’t wake Asa because you didn’t want him to think you were being a baby…

Just like that you’re back to being snippy with him, rolling your eyes and talking back. Pretending not to hear him when he calls for you, making everything difficult out of pure spite. You need her back or you know tonight is going to be just as horrible as the last.

“I’m not doing shit until you give her back!!” You bite at Asa, stomping your foot for good measure. All he’d done was ask you to prepare for a bath…

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Asa relents.

“What is this all about puppy? You’ve been touchy since yesterday and somehow even worse today, I understand you aren’t happy about being punished but you’re supposed to be showing me how much you deserve her back.” He pauses for a moment, taking your hands in his and connecting eyes. The look on his face is taut but not angry, unsure of what the issue is but concerned with your distress.

“There’s more to this isn’t there pet. Tell me.”

“Can’t sleep” you mumble, eyes darting down to stare at your socked feet on the hardwood flooring.

“Speak up please”

“I can’t sleep without her! I couldn’t sleep last night and I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless I have her back! I know it sounds childish but she makes me feel safe, I-i can’t do it without her” you sniffle

Asa’s face softens, hand cupping your cheek and wiping away a stray tear. “Oh pet, thank you for telling me, I wasn’t aware confiscating her would distress you this much. I know we both agreed to this in the rules but it seems to have touched a nerve and for that I’m sorry. We’ll iron the rules out and then she will be returned to you, sound good?”

You sniffle and nod, leaning into the warm touch of your masters palm.

“I still expect you to take your punishment but we will discuss it later and make sure we’re both comfortable with it” he tacks onto the end.

Sure enough you update your contract and your fluffy friend is returned to you with another hushed apology from Asa and even one to your plushy, making you giggle.

The day finally feels normal again, tears are dried and you’re back to obeying and being your cuddly usual self, practically hanging off your master as he works or cooks, nuzzling into his neck contently. Mistakes are bound to happen but you always figure it out in the end, only wanting the best for eachother, there’s no one you would rather make mistakes with than Asa.

[n0vaisnthere]

Hello! Rlly loved your Furina fic!

Could you do an apocalypse, fanfic childe? With Childe's little brother just trying to survive in the apocalypse!

Eto po lubvi

Modern! Childe x GN! reader

Oneshots

Worries about Teucer all the time.

He worries that the entire apocalypse has ruined his chances at just being a kid.

He tries his best to protect him from the harsh realities of the word now.

He has no way to get in contact with his family, so as far as he knows, Teucer is the only real family he has right now.

So he doesn't want to lose him.

"I'm worried about him.." Childe sighed, watching as the fired crackled in the fireplace..

You've been stuck inside a small home in the middle of a big city for almost three months now. It was horde after horde, anytime you wanted to move to a diffrent city, another horde came. At this point, you guys were running low on supplies.

"Why? He looks fine to me.." You said, looking down at the sleeping Teucer who had fallen asleep a couple hours ago. It was always nice to see he had gotten sleep whenever you two couldn't.

"I mean.. I dont know— just the fact he can't really be a kid anymore.." Childe sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. He did his best not to wake up Teucer, who had fallen asleep on his other shoulder.

You gave him a small smile, your hand resting over his own, trying to give him some form of comfort.

"Im sure things will go back to how they used to be soon.." You knew it was just empty promises. He knew that, too. But wishful thinking was better than giving up.

There was a comfortable silence between you two, basking in eachothers presence for a bit.

—★°•

Protective of you as well

Especially when you both go out scavenging in old abandoned stores

Tries to keep you close at all times

Not only were there the dangers of zombies, but there were also the dangers of other survivors

Hes seen first hand the lengths they'd go to surivive out here.

You were walking through the deep freezer. It was slightly ajar, but you hoped there was something still edible in here. It smelt rancid inside the small room. And from the looks of it, everything was rotted already. You sighed, about to leave the room when your heart dropped to your toes. There was a zombie right at the door— skin a freekish green, jaw streatched out abnormally wide. Your hand fumbled, trying to grab your pocket knife when a shot rang out. Your ears were ringing for a moment before you regained your senses. A familiar ginger standing infront of you.

"Are you alright?" He said, his anxious eyes flicking over your body, looking for any injury.

"Ajax.. relax, im okay." You sent him a small smile, resting your hands on his shoulders, trying to sooth his anxiety.

He quickly pulled you into his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head protectivly.

"You have to stop running off like that.." he murmured.. you could hear his heartbeat, how his heat was racing.

—★°•

Tries his best to cook

Of course, supplies is limited

So it isn't the best food..

Look, he tries, that's all that matters.

"Tah-dah! My famous beef jerky and eggs!" Childe grinned, smiling at you and Teucer. Placing two plates infront of you both.

It looked.. diffrent. Small peices of dried beef jerky sprinkled on top of eggs that looked rubbery. Dont judge a book by its cover, I guess..

"It smells delicious, Childe!" You sent him a small smile. Resisting the urge to gag at the smell. Teucer looked at his plate with a slight confusion, poking at the eggs with his fork.

"Is this.. good?" Teucer asked, looking up a Childe with confusion. His fork was barely stabbing through the eggs because of how thick they were.

"Be greatful, you know a lot of people dont have— Hey! Dont dump it behind the couch!" Childe groaned, watching as Teucer tried to sneakily get rid of the food from his plate.

"Whoops!"

—★ MASTERLIST— here

[f10werfae]

Cavill Clan

pairing: Husband!Henry x Primary Teacher!Reader

Summary: fans react to Henry's announcement that not only has he gotten married during lockdown, but there is a new addition to the Cavill Clan...a daughter (Requested by @beck07990)

Requests are open/Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Cavill Masterlist Full Masterlist Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@/purpleraingal: Ok but that video of Y/n teaching her five year old students over zoom is the cutest thing, I heard she personally went and left care packages at their door during the pandemic full of books and pens etc

>> @/therurbulentlion: She brought Henry in during her online PE lessons so he could teach the kids rugby, they loved learning from superman

@/flowerturttlee: ALERT SINCE WHEN WAS Y/N AND HENRY MARRIED? MATCHING SILVER WEDDING RINGS ON THEIR RING FINGERS HELLO?? WHERE IS THE ANNOUNCEMENT AND THE PICTURES

-

@/pinkframer: I hate it here, just saw Henry's announcement on his insta of him and Y/n kissing at their beach wedding. Did you know they had their own secret last vows, ones they only said to each after everyone left. Only found out because Y/n said it in an interview, soso cute!

-

@/33goneandgo: KAL WAS THEIR RING BOY OMGOMGOMG

>> @/cavillfan01: JUS SAYING Y/N HAS A BIT OF A GLOW TO HER, MAYBE A PREGNANCY GLOW??

-

@/unicornfluffpiy: WOAH WOAH WOAH TWO MONTHS MARRIED AND THEYVE ALREADY POSTED A PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT, THAT MAN HAS SUPER SPERM I SWEAR

>> @/tswifters: Bro Y/n said in a recent zoom interview that because of covid they couldn’t have a honeymoon, so Henry turned their backyard into a resort with massage tables etc

>>> @/blanketcase: No wonder she’s preggo, there was fucking massage tables AND NO DOUBT LUBE

-

@/britishteacupxo: Y/n’s maternity photos are so beautiful, that one photo of Henry on his knees cupping her stomach is so cute, I swear I could see the imprint of the baby’s foot on her stomach on one of the pics

-

@/firaffeking: Let’s just appreciate Y/n blessing us with the video of Henry painting the nursery shirtless in cargo work pants, that man is a literal beautiful dilf now. Life’s good.

-

@/wonderwomf: Their nursery is fantasy based, why am I not surprised with all of Henry’s gamer clubs😭 I just know that kid is gonna grow up into being a cosplayer at some point

-

@/brittneytoner: OMG ITS A GIRL, Y/N JUST ANNOUNCED THE BABY’S ARRIVAL ON HER INSTA, THEY NAMED HER CHARLOTTE

>> @/wintersblossom: OMG CHARLOTTE CAVILL, WHAT A CUTIE OMG, HER CHIN IS DEFINITELY GOING TO BE LIKE HENRY's

-

@/basketturb: Omg that video of Henry sleeping with Charlotte on his chest, while they’re both in her crib makes me so soft. Apparently there’s been times when Y/n has had to squirt her breastmilk at him to wake up😭😭 He calls them her “supersoakers”

-

@/HenryCavill: Breastmilk doesn’t taste like actual milk. Betrayed.

>> @Samclaflin: hold on mate how’d you find that out

>>> @/Y/nCavill: How’d ya think 😌

-

@/burterflu: Baby Charlotte literally has one springed curl on her head and it’s so freaking adorable, its just boings up and down when I saw it on their newest interview

-

@/haushejus: Y/n is officially back onto zoom teaching and shes so precious, she asked each and every kid how they were doing and offered her own personal time to talk to them individually if they needed extra help with their work packets

-

@/user8273838: Henry taking care of Charlotte while Y/n is working has to be the funniest things, according to Y/n he had Charlotte handing him the pieces to the PC he was building. Each time he handed her something he said, “Thank you Lottie”

-

@/delicatepetals: Y/n and Henry are such good parents, they are so hands on and openly affectionate with their daughter it’s so heartwarming

-

@/softfeatherlad: I hate it here. Y/n is so gorgeous and Charlotte is quite literally her double, although Lottie definitely got Henry’s cleft chin and dark curly hair

>> @/frederica: THE FAMILY HE DESERVES FOR REALSIES!!!

-

@/supermansdog8: When Y/n posted the baby camera video of Lottie getting up at 2AM with her blankie to go sleep with Kal on the couch, with her using him as a pillow and he just kept licking her hands as kisses

>> @/legendary89: Did you see the video of the timelapse of baby Lottie sleeping in their bed. That little girl has more moves than a ninja, she went from being in Henry's arms to sitting right on his head😭 I swear at one point she just latched herself to nurse on Y/n's boob under her shirt😭 That girl is crazy jus like her dad no doubt

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @beck07990

@fdl305 @princess-paramour @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @kimhtoo17 @thereisa8ella @pandaxnienke

[bigchumpus]

your pirate au is everything, I just discovered it and. my heartttt </3 /pos your art style is incredible too, the way you draw hair and your design for Pearl's wings are both just. woah. mind blown. gorgeous.

Just want to point out a few things I love!! :)

The quotes from the sketches page: "how do you reunite with someone you thought was dead" <- MY HEARTTTT "almost died" "wings are clipped"

That one instance [screenshot from this post below] of Grian's eyes being depicted as purple after he joins Scar's crew (and presumably whatever incident left him almost dead/"injured and unconscious"), as opposed to the brown they were as a kid? The strong implication that something (or someone? the watchers perhaps? I'm assuming it's something to do with the old crew that took them in as kids) were responsible for it.

"...one day things go awry"

And excuse me again for taking a screenshot [from this post], but the one image in which Grian's eyes are obscured by a bandage, complete with a watcher symbol and a glowing purple eye?? And Pearl's eyes being purple too? And they're both dressed in purple robes... just. insane /pos

The watchers are typically depicted as an oppressive force, and yet they both look happy. IDK. Something something juxtaposition, childhood innocence versus the purple symbolising something that's very widely regarded as cruel or even evil.

All this is to say I really really love it so far!!

and also... absolutely zero pressure at all! but would you perhaps be willing to share some crumbs on the story? :)

SEFJJRHPORDHJ Awww gee! You've made my day! :D Never thought people would really notice the little details

I'm not very good at detailing moth wings which is why I went for more of a starry feel, so I'm glad you like it 😆

And since you've asked so kindly, I could share some ideas rotating in my head,

When you're a kid, I don't think you realize as much the cruelty adults are capable of. Especially when they've been treating you kindly for the most part, and the progression to harsher conditions and punishments is slow. (Pearl would've been the first to notice.)

Grian and Pearl were already stealing to survive, having nothing but each other, so when the given the offer to be spared from their decimated town, and leave as a pirate, they took it. Grian would regret that a lot later :D

I've also been pondering over the idea that no one, including Grian, realized he was an avian, because he wasn't born with wings. So was taken from his nest by hunters who'd thought he'd been stolen (hybrids aren't always treated well, and sometimes hunted down in this au, though by the time they're adults that seems to change a bit), and then taken to an orphanage (which he'd run away from) when they couldn't afford to raise him for very long.

On the other hand, Pearl was born with her traits and would live in hiding with her parents for the first few years of her life, before it'd just be her mother and her, and then just Pearl as hunters had gotten to them.

So when the two met, Grian would often use the fact that they look similar to his advantage, like "Well I'm her brother, do I seem like a hybrid? Then neither is she!"

I think in return for certain protection, Pearl would've taught him some of the basics of the alphabet and reading,

And later when they're recruited to be raised as pirates, maybe Grian would be better at the magic stuff, whereas Pearl would be better at the fighting aspect. Idk I just like the thought that they'd cover each other's bases :D

And during the beginning of the period of time where they're separated, I think there would be mishaps where they expected the other to be there, the way it'd always been.

Something something, survivors guilt and Grian maybe not being as kind and trusting as he used to be, and never making promises. Still loyal although all his presence has ever achieved is death.

Something something, Pearl still clings to the feather he'd once given her, keeps searching because she knows he's alive - he has to be alive, still wonders about if she had just been stronger—

and maybe Pearl sees a bit of her old sun in Gem, and maybe Grian learns to trust in others and himself again with Scar.

Iwouldrambleabitmorebutwe'rekindofinapickleatthemoment-

[gilverrwrites]

Meet Cute Uglies

GN!Reader/Black Mask, ≈800 words >[Bruce | Dick | Jason]<

CWs: Swearing, implied threats of violence, mentions of: cheating & messy break ups, vandalism.

There’s a hostage situation taking place with Joker down at the peer, no cop is gonna care about a tiny bit of vandalism. At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you thread your keys through your fingers and ‘casually stroll’ across the street towards your ex’s car.

The lying POS had been cheating on you the whole relationship, sneaking around with the one co-worker he’s told you not to worry about, taking them on dates and fucking them in your shared bed when you were out of town. You’d wanted to keep the break-up amicable, if only to avoid the stress, but he’d been set on making it as messy as possible; airing your dirty laundry, trying to turn your friends and family against you, showing up at your work and causing problems until you snapped and told him that if you ever saw him again; you’d make him regret it.

It had been weeks since you’d last seen him, so you were pretty certain he’d gotten the message. Until today, when you’d spotted his car parked up outside your apartment building. You’d done a double take at first, but no, that was definitely his car. You could recognise it a mile away, a black 79 Mustang, it was a rarity in this day and age, his pride and joy, and it made a very satisfying CREEEAK noise as you dragged the tip of your key along the driver's side door. A sadistic sort of joy washes over you as you circle the vehicle twice over, destruction in your wake, but it’s not enough, not yet. You’re two letters into carving the word ‘CHEATER’ on the bonnet when a voice calls out to you, stopping you cold.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The voice does not belong to your ex. It’s angry, gravelly, Gothamite through and through, and kinda sexy, but you don’t turn to look at them. If it’s a cop, you’re already busted, and if it’s anybody else they should mind their own business.

“Keep walking.” You instruct as you continue on with your masterpiece.

“I don’t fucking think so.” The voice is closer now, you can sense the presence of its owner close behind you, close enough to touch you. Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you the golden rule of Gotham?” You ask, making light work of the ‘A’. As you move on to the ‘T’ you wonder if you can make it look like a penis. “If you see something; No, you didn’t.”

“I think the only person that needs to be taught a lesson here, is you.” And then he grabs you, a firm, leather-clad hand clutching onto your upper arm and spinning you around to face him. Your keys clatter on the hood of the car.

“What the fuck is your prob- ” Your sentence is cut short as you comprehend who you’ve been arguing with, who currently has you locked in the palm of his hand. It’s an unseemly sigh up close, the mask, skull-shaped and pointy. Its expressionlessness only serves to strike more fear into your heart, but what the hell does Black Mask care about you vandalising your ex’s car for, it’s not like he hasn’t done worse things for less.

“My problem…” He jerks you closer, using your captured arm as leverage until you’re pressed against his chest, his mask inches from your face. Up close he smells like wood and smoke, like fine whisky. “is that’s my car.”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“No.” It’s a stupid, instinctual response. Your brain is trying to deny your impending doom. If only the ground would open up and swallow you, that would probably be less painful than whatever he has planned. He nods, pointing at the license plate which you hadn’t checked in your moment of rage, and you struggle to peek at it over your shoulder. “I’m sorry?”

It’s a pathetic little squeak of an apology, a pointless plea for leniency that makes him laugh. “Oh, you’re sorry huh?”

“Yeah, see, I didn’t know it was your car. I thought it was my ex’s and he’s such a jerk and… you don’t care.” He neither confirms nor denies, he just continues holding you close. You can see steely eyes boring into you through the eye holes of his mask. “Are you gonna shoot me?”

He laughs again, realising your arm. Before you can make to leave, he presses forward, caging you between his body and the aesthetically destroyed car. Somehow the new position makes you feel just as trapped but more relaxed than the previous. “Haven’t decided yet.”

You’re not sure what he’s debating between, you’re not sure you want to know, but you ask anyway. “Why?”

“Been a long time since anyone had the guts to talk to me like that. It’s cute.” He’s nodding at you, or maybe to himself. “I’m kinda into it.”

[astromechs]

me like "lol cassian would have a really bad paranoid time if he was ever stoned out of his mind, wouldn't he," and then i put that into my wider college au; this is in no way serious also on ao3!

Inside his chest, his heart is beating fast.

Has it always been like that? At the moment, Cassian thinks, it's hard to remember a time it hadn't been. The pounding feels constant, and it's so loud that it's drowning out all the other voices in the room, along with the terrible music that's been playing from Han's phone from behind the couch all night in the living room of the apartment Jyn and Leia share, and —

No, his heart hasn't always been like this, of course it hasn't — but the way it's beating has to be a sign of something bad. A heart attack? Is that what's happening to him? Even if it's rare, it's not unheard of in someone his age, and now that he's, as Kay would say, become a statistic, he needs to think fast. Act fast.

Needs to grab his phone.

With a shaking hand and breaths that become increasingly shallow, he reaches into the pocket of his jeans, and has to fumble, has a couple of false starts, before his phone is finally in hand. It's only one button that he needs, and they make it easy to find on purpose….

He stares at his lockscreen, and clarity suddenly hits him, with all the force of a brick being dropped onto his head.

The problem isn't in his heart, or anything medical about him at all. No, the problem is the phone — and it's a problem for every single person in this room, for every single person on the planet. Because everyone knows about surveillance technology, how advanced it's gotten and how advanced it's getting more and more everyday, how no one can ever be sure just who's listening, how anyone can sell a collection of data from an entire person's life story for the right price. It happens everyday.

It's happening right now. The phone is the problem.

His fingers curl tightly around the phone in his hands, just like they had around a baseball, once, before the sport (or really much of anything in the way of sports) hadn't taken as a hobby. Without any further thought, he hurls it across the living room; it makes an arc in the air before plummeting to the carpet.

No, the physics of it hadn't been the best, but he's having a little trouble seeing straight and holding up his arm without it wobbling on him. Which — now the phone knows his weakness.

All the phones know his weakness.

So it's better for all of them to be crushed under his feet, isn't it? Starting with the one he'd brought with him.

He moves to stand from the couch, but the world wobbles under his knees in the instant of his first attempt; his head is cloudy, his vision starts to swim. As he sinks back down onto it, heart pounding and breath shortening again, the only thing able to get through the noise is a soft hand on his thigh, and an even softer voice in his ear.

"Cass?"

Slowly, he turns on his side until Jyn's wide green eyes are all he's looking into. Her other hand, the one that isn't still resting on his thigh, moves to his face, the warmth of her fingers a welcome balm against his cold, clammy skin. Her mouth twists into a frown.

"Oh, fuck," he can hear Han breathe out from somewhere across the coffee table. "He's one of those."

Jyn shifts away from him then, her hand dropping back down to her side, and he feels, more than sees, her tense, in the way she always does just before she spits venom. "What a brilliant fucking observation."

"Can you both just stop it for once?" Leia's voice nearby — about ten seconds from snapping, if he had to estimate.

Neither Luke nor Bodhi have anything to add, but their wide, worried glances in his direction are obvious. They probably don't know about the phones, he thinks — and he has to tell them; if the phones are listening and something terrible finds them because he hadn't told them, it'll be all his fault. He can't let that happen, because too many things have been his fault already.

But his heart's pounding and his throat's dry, and he can't manage to get his voice to speak. It feels like everything's spinning around him when he's completely still, and he just can't distinguish much of anything in the noise. He scrunches his eyes shut once, and then again.

Nothing helps.

A hand takes his, tugging him toward the edge of the couch. He gives it everything he has not to let it move him. This is important.

It tugs at him again. He stays still.

Even through his current hazy grip on consciousness, he knows Jyn's irritated, frustrated huff of breath like it's an extension of himself. Still, he doesn't move.

"Come on. You can stand. I've got you." She sounds like she's literally gritting her teeth, and she probably is, but still, he doesn't move. "We're gonna go in my room, okay? And you're gonna sleep this off, and you're gonna be fine."

Cassian shakes his head fiercely. Which makes the room spin around him all over again, so he stops that motion in its tracks. "No." It's only after scrunching his eyes shut for a moment that he's able to think a little bit again, able to meet Jyn's gaze. Able to rasp, "I have to tell them. About the phones."

Because she has to understand.

Her brows knit in confusion as she looks back at him, and he doesn't know how long they stay there like this, in this silent standoff. Eventually, though, she turns her head away from him even as her hand is still gripping his, and his eyes follow her as she sets her attention on Han across the coffee table.

She doesn't say anything, but he sees her mouth form words: I'll kill you.

It's all silent, because… clearly she knows about the phones, even if he hasn't been able to say anything.

Of course she knows; she's smart and great. And also beautiful — which doesn't have anything to do with the other things or define who she is to him, it's just true and he likes thinking it.

So, actually? He can let her lead him anywhere, even if it's out of the room and out of sight, because she'll know what the right next move is.

Later, probably several hours later, when he'll stir awake with a headache like nothing he's ever known but unable to move on account of Jyn collapsed on top of his chest, snoring softly, it'll occur to him that something had tasted a little off in the brownie that had been suggested for him to try.

And later still, it'll occur to him that following any suggestion coming out of Han Solo's mouth would never be destined to be anything but a terrible idea.

[scoundrels-in-love]

things you said at the kitchen table - (i was gonna say vashmeryl but you already did one of those for disconnect :3) soooooo stryfewood

This only took a genuine month to write, oops.

| Stryfewood (Mashwood hints) | Pining | Teasing | Wolfwood in a turtleneck | Also on AO3 |

---

Meryl does not often drink to the point of hangovers and for good reason. She prides herself in knowing her limits and abiding by them. But somewhere after leaving her work party with Milly timely because they had decided they deserved to celebrate their promotion proper instead of playing polite with work seniors, her sensibilities (and a shoe) seems to have gotten lost while drinking and dancing.

She remembers having fun, laughing and feeling light, and honestly, not much else. Certainly not how she must've stumbled home and face planted onto her bed without changing her clothes. And it all feels very unfair trade for the absolute misery she's experiencing right now.

When she makes her way to the kitchen for the second time this morning to have more water and attempt to stomach some food, Meryl feels a touch more human after a shower and fresh change of clothes, but there is still a wild herd of buffalos stampeding around the inside of her skull.

She does not see improvement in that condition in her future, considering just who is leaning against the kitchen counter, smirk spread on his handsome face.

Of course it would be just her luck that Wolfwood, her best friend's slash roommate's other best friend (more than that, she suspects, though they've not introduced any label to her, but neither are very good at being discreet about anything), has not left yet.

She thought he might have, since Vash is gone for the weekend without much explanation as to why (she's gotten used to his odd ways, even if she's not given up on bugging him for some truth), but then again Wolfwood treats this like his rent-free place. To the point she's told him he might as well move in with Vash and not waste money on his own apartment.

(Doesn't matter that she would probably need to look for a new place herself then, because she isn't sure she'd handle looking more often at Vash casually draped over Wolfwood's lap as the other man combs fingers through the blonde hair in a way she's quietly wanted to since their second uni year, or increase in the other sweet, casual intimacy acts on the daily.)

She mumbles a greeting to Wolfwood and slumps into her chair and then over the table, resting her head on her arms. 

"Rough morning?" Wolfwood asks and she can hear him move around the kitchen, the soft clink of glass. What she doesn't expect is for it to be placed next to her on the table, his warm fingers brushing against her hand. She shifts to peer at him over her arm without lifting her head and his expression promises nothing good.

Still, she thanks him and straightens up to drink. 

Wolfwood keeps watching her in a way that makes her incredibly self-conscious. He always does, when he puts his full attention on her, his dark eyes making her want to squirm and smooth down her hair. But right now, it's more and it's worse. (She hadn't known that was possible.)

Meryl feels a drop of water escape the corner of her mouth as she drinks and roll down her chin and neck and she could swear Wolfwood follows its path with his gaze, lingering where the droplet meets its end at the collar of her t-shirt and tracing the path back up to her lips.

Suddenly she really wishes Vash was here - though his cheeriness and volume would make her headache worse, at least he would distract Wolfwood, turn this into something more familiar. And the hangover soup he makes is divine.

It's not that she and Wolfwood can't hang out or don't get along - they do. In their own way that would make most people assume they can barely tolerate each other, sure, but what do they care about how others perceive their bickering. When she needs an honest, if biting opinion on her newest article or wants to tear the newest popular, but lackluster and plothole riddled series to shreds with someone who gets it , there is no one better to go to than Wolfwood.

(Vash loves to sit down and just listen to them go at it, chin in his hands and warm smile on his face that she can't look at too much directly or it sends butterflies dancing in her chest like sun spots.)

But all of that is one thing and the way he's looking at her as if he's gauging the best moment to pounce is something completely different. What's worse, he looks so good in the early morning - black turtleneck accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, long fingers wrapped around a huge coffee mug almost as if on display, hair mussed just enough to make her want to mess it up a touch more and run her palm down his stubbled cheek.

Meryl drops her gaze first, gets a refill of water. If he makes a joke about her being thirsty again, she will cuss him out for real this time.

"So, what got our Miss Proper utterly wasted last night, hm?" Wolfwood doesn't seem satisfied to just let the silence rule across the kitchen and Meryl groans in mortification. She'd really hoped she hadn't run into him last night. God only knows what nonsense (or truths) she could babble in such a state.

"Got carried away celebrating a promotion with Milly," she admits, resting her head against the wall, skirting her gaze over him and toward the window, squinting at the light. 

"Oh, how come I hear about that only now? Thought we were friends, gatinha," she makes a disgruntled noise at the pet name, out of principle not actual upset, "'N Vash usually can't wait to brag about yer achievements, can't believe he didn't call me to yell all about it."

Meryl hopes the heat in her face is not as vivid as it feels, she hadn't known Vash spoke about her like that when she isn't around. It feels more special somehow, than just the way he hypes her up when next to her, though she dearly loves that, too.

"We learned last night ourselves," Meryl explains. The news had mixed well with the champagne, sweet bubbles filling her head and making reason pop like one, too.

Wolfwood hums softly as he considers it, turning away from her to start washing his mug. It's a relief, not to have his eyes on her anymore, but part of her, a part that is surely still drunk, misses his gaze, the intensity and focus that he's been giving her this morning. The sort she could feel even when she wasn't looking at him at all.

Meryl is looking now, though. Letting herself appreciate the way the turtleneck hugs his form, how his shoulder blades move beneath the fabric as he reaches for the dish towel and dutifully, carefully dries his mug. He's always been the tidiest of them all. Her gaze tracks upward, to the back of his neck and she suddenly thinks - if she was taller, she could peel it back, revealing the beautiful line of his throat and press a kiss there, right beneath his ear. If she sat on the counter, she'd be just the right height -

The thought is not unfamiliar , but it startles her all the same and as she pushes it away, it rolls away with a sound like a cat toy filled with something to make a noise at the slightest shift.

"Suppose we oughta celebrate then, when Vash comes back," Wolfwood interrupts her attempts to ignore the rattling ball of bad ideas. She'd seen him turn back around, but somehow not registered it. Meryl hopes she didn't startle too visibly.

"That'd be nice," she agrees with a smile. Vash has a habit of throwing celebrations for the silliest reasons, like today is national pasta day or the day has gotten a specific length before the sun sets, so casual, silly get togethers aren't strangers to this apartment. And she really doesn't think she wants anything more, either. Even if they just treat her to pizza and her pick of a movie, she'd love it.

"No getting trêbada, tho, wouldn't want a repeat of last night." 

There is something in his tone, something knowing and sly, that makes Meryl straighten up and tense, while he's still the perfect picture of relaxed swagger, relaxing against the counter and grinning at her.

"What do you mean?" Meryl's voice sounds dry and cracked, a pitch higher than she would have liked, and her heart is beating the drum in her temples at the tempo contest.

"Ya don't remember at all, do ya?" Wolfwood drawls and pushes himself off the edge counter. She sits with her hands clutched in her lap, feeling drawn like a bowstring, as he approaches her, stops so very close that their knees touch and when he leans down, she can distinguish his pupils from the deep, rich brown surrounding them. 

She watches like spellbound when he hooks one of his long fingers behind the edge of his turtleneck's collar and peels it back, turning his head just so she can have a good look at the smudged lipstick mark on his throat. The same shade she'd scrubbed from her face earlier this morning, half surprised it had lasted until then, half lamenting it had gotten so smudged all the same. Perhaps it was understandable, considering what she'd gotten up to, Meryl thinks numbly.

"Kept that one for a good luck charm today," Wolfwood says, in a low voice that makes all of this somehow even more something she can't define in her current state. His word choice doesn't help - that one, as if she'd kissed him all over - and she can't tell if it's an image created by him or a stray memory, but she can picture doing just that, straddling his lap on the couch and pressing her mouth all over his face, with loud mwah noises to accentuate each sloppy kiss.

"If ya want to shower me in affection," Wolfwood continues, either oblivious or sharply aware of her internal spiral, and then his index finger tips her chin up just so, "prefer ya did it sober next time so I can reciprocate."

Her heart might jump through her mouth and into his face, for him to do with it as he pleases. Surely, even that would be less embarrassing. Surely, even that wouldn't be as impossible as the picture of possibilities that Wolfwood's just created.

"'N I think Blondie would like to join in on the fun, too." His thumb brushes a whisper of a touch across her bottom lip, a burning tingle left in its wake, and then he draws back to his full height, leaving her gaping up at him.

Just like that, he walks away, as if nothing has happened, as if her world didn’t just get shaken like a snowglobe.

At least that's what she thinks, until Wolfwood trips over the threshold and curses loudly. She can hear him stifling more choice words as he slightly limps down the corridor and the beautiful absurdity of it all makes Meryl burst into giggles, burying her face in her hands.

Maybe she'll get to kiss his ego better, later. God knows he doesn't need it, but she might anyway.

---

Wolfwood last night: exhibit a, exhibit b.

[randomwriteronline]

"Pohatu - fancy seeing you here."

Nokama smiles a little more when the Toa turns to her. He sits slightly hunched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, powerful legs swinging idly in the emptiness that divides the rocky wall from a plummet into the ocean, completely unafraid; the unusual shape of his Kakama Nuva greets her wordlessly.

"I hope I did not bother you," she continues gently: "You seem so caught up in your thoughts, these days..."

A comfortable silence follows the pause she allows to hang.

For a moment a sense of dread creeps along her spine, around her arms, ensnaring her neck: Pohatu, whose voice rattles the mountains, stares at her eerily quiet with a terrifyingly blank gaze and a lack of emotion in his expression.

But he blinks, and his eyes widen, and he says: "What?" as he leans his head forward. "I'm sorry Turaga, I was not listening."

She exhales, amused, as the broken tension allows her shoulders to sag a little: "I only mentioned that you seem very distracted as of late - even during Vakama's tales."

"Ah," he replies with a slightly embarrassed laugh: "I guess my head likes to be in Lewa's domain far more than my feet do in Onua's."

Nokama laughs with him: "May I?" she asks.

He gestures to his side amiably, inviting her to sit with him: "Of course, of course."

It's surprising how little he's worried. Even her head starts to spin from vertigo when she dares to look down at the swirling waters, and she is the furthest thing from the infamous Po-Matoran hydrophobia; yet he sits there without the barest hint of concern despite knowing very well he would sink to the depths of the ocean horribly easily.

Pohatu looks again to the horizon.

He's unusually unreadable.

"I've spoken with the Mahi of Po-Koro, on one of my visits," she tells him - her Rau's abilities have already been unmasked by now, so it's less strange than it could be - "They've told me you quite love to pamper them, more than the Hapaka."

His laugh vibrates out of him, but she notices he does not smile as wide as the sound would imply when he simply shrugs: "I like horns."

They've told her that, too.

"What troubles you, Toa of Stone?"

He glances back at her: "Nothing."

"Yet your mind is so often elsewhere, and you almost don't look like yourself. I've come to know you, Pohatu - I wish to help, if I can."

Nokama's gentle worry makes him sigh deeply: "You're as good a teacher as Toa Lhikan thought, Turaga," he replies with a heavy tone. "Very attentive."

She looks to her feet: "Vhisola was proof otherwise," she mutters.

Pohatu tilts his head: "Then it just means you've gotten better."

The Turaga smiles: "You're always too kind."

He does not reply to that.

His fingers sink into the stone of the precipice to rip a chunk out of the cliff like it's nothing; he tosses the rock from palm to palm absentmindedly, neck craned back to look at the sky.

"I'm just thinking of Po-Metru."

Curiosity, then. "It's only natural," she soothes him: "Your siblings wonder about Metru Nui too. Gali has asked me about Ga-Metru and the Great Temple quite a lot in the past few days. I'm certain Onewa will not be too shy to answer your questions."

She watches him pull one knee up to lean his chin on it: "I don't have many, to be honest - not about the city."

"Really?"

A shrug: "Turaga Vakama is very good at descriptions."

"Ah... Yes, he is, isn't he."

The Toa does not smile back at her; he keeps looking further away into the endless sky, as if to pull on the rest of the ocean with his mind until the other side of the island appears on the horizon.

"What is it, then?" Nokama nudges him. "What doubts take hold of your focus?"

He does not answer immediately.

The rock falls back in his hand perfectly each time he juggles it.

He does so halfheartedly, distractedly - in the same way he sits at the Amaja circle and looks at her brother speak as though he could see right past him, through him.

"The Matoran come from there," he finally says.

She nods.

At last, his strange nearly impersonal gaze returns upon her mask.

"Do you know where we come from?"

It takes her a moment to understand who he speaks of: "You come from the canisters," she answers, because that is nothing if the truth. "You come from the sea."

"The sea bears life - the sea bore us," he says under his breath at that, as though he is repeating a memory. It sounds a lot like Gali.

She nods: "That is as much as we Turaga know."

"And nothing else?" he insists. His words don't hold any desperation, but there is something in them she can't explain with any other term. "Did we have anything before that?"

"No, nothing. Nothing that we know of."

"You were Matoran. You became Toa. Do you not remember us?"

"No - you were never in Metru Nui. We never could have met you there, not even as Matoran."

"It remains we must have been Matoran. Isn't that right?"

His tone is... It strikes her enough to make her stagger before she can offer a response.

He sounds like...

He sounds like them, in a way.

He sounds like he is testing her - to see if he can trigger a specific reaction from her.

His tone is somewhat methodical, scientific, like a researcher interrogating a subject to observe the effects of whatever he's administered them; it is that of calculated questions that one already knows the answer to. His mask is unreadable, incomprehensible - not for a blank anonimity but instead an overwhelming amount of minuscule tells and signs that muddle the waters of his emotions, obscuring them within their own cacophonic confusion.

If only she too knew the answer.

If only (she assumes) he had not forgotten it.

"I imagine as much," Nokama finally replies. "But you six are special, Pohatu."

"You were chosen by Mata Nui himself," he interrupts her. The kindness in his voice is nearly an afterthought, but he masks that fact well. "I would say you too are not necessarily as ordinary a bunch as any Gukko flock might be in Le-Wahi."

She chuckles despite the strange atmosphere: "Oh," and then she laughs, and she laughs some more, bent over herself to try and stifle the giggles that bubble in her chest, "Oh, be careful not to say that in front of Tamaru or Kongu, lest you want a very angry lecture on how the Gukko force is so very different from their wild siblings."

Pohatu's smile is lukewarm.

The Turaga recomposes herself quickly when she takes in his lack of amusement: "But you are different," she insists. "You are something more than what we were or could have hoped to be."

"That sort of thing doesn't spring out of the ocean from nowhere."

"That sort of thing is what legends and prophecies are made of. Your arrival was foretold in stars that cannot be rewritten; you came to aid us, delivered upon our shores by the elements themselves; you battled against the Great Spirit's most insidious, terrible enemies, and defeated them. You are special. And perhaps you had no need of a Toa Stone to become who you are."

The reply she gets is a silent stare.

The rock creaks from within the Toa's grip.

If she were looking at it she'd notice the liquid manner it behaves.

"It's a sad idea," he finally says, "To be born only to fight."

The Toa protect, for that is their duty; the Matoran create, for that is their destiny.

Her hand lays on his arm with a kind, humid pressure.

"I may very well be wrong," Nokama reassures him now. "I've told you, not even we Turaga know much."

"You know prophecies."

"Those can only get us so far. And they can't see the past."

"I wish they could," Pohatu says with a focused gaze.

His eyes are locked onto her own.

"I will pray the Great Spirit to bring you answers soon, Toa of Stone," she promises - because what else can she do? How else can she reply to the perfectly still stare that seems to pass through her, carving holes within her head with the precision of a sculptor? "So that you and your siblings will never have to feel as you do now again."

He does not move.

Then, at last, his head tilts with a tired, relieved smile.

"Thank you, Turaga," he tells her earnestly. "I hope so too."

Nokama grins back at him, so gentle, so sweet - so glad that the disquieting spell is over and the Toa is once again fully himself.

She raises herself from her seat with a bit of a struggle, helped upright by his powerful arm. Another burst of vertigo makes her sway for a moment as she catches sight of the long fall into the waters, head feeling light before she imperiously shakes the sensation out of it: there is nothing to fear, the cliff won't fall. Even Pohatu has gone back to swinging his legs in the nothingness with the carefree movements of a Matoran dangling from a jungle vine, and if he is not afraid then she has no reason to be either.

He does not move to follow her.

"I shall return to Ga-Koro now," she tells him: "Soon enough we'll have to carry the boats to Kini Nui, and I ought to make sure they're nearing completion."

"Call Taipu when you need to move them, if my brother is too busy listening to stories - I'm sure he'll be happy to help," he suggests.

Her smile confirms that his poison is mistaken for a lighthearted jab: "A good idea. I will ask Whenua to send him to us, if he is not busy enough already and wishes to lend us a hand. You should be off too, listening to stories like your siblings, should you not?"

Head thrown back and legs stiffened, the Toa whines like an annoyed child: "But Turaga," he exaggerates his whimpering drawl to kick a laugh out of her shoulders, "I don't wanna!"

"Neither do I want to go fetch Nixie out of her observatory for the eleventh time today, but duty call us all the same."

He huffs and pouts dejectedly as his body slumps on himself in a comical manner; his furrowed brow clears into a simple smile as Nokama hiccups chuckle after chuckle at his stellar performance.

"There's still a little while," he bargains with her.

"And will you be at Kini Nui on time?"

"Am I ever late?"

No, she can't argue with that. Her eyes shine with affection as she lays them on him again.

"Alright," she pretends to concede with a sigh, as though she were doing him a big favor. His grin amuses her to no end. "But make sure to be there."

He places a hand on his heartlight: "I will be."

"And try to focus, as best as you can."

"I will try my hardest. I just need to clear my head a little more, and then I'll be the most captive audience Turaga Vakama has ever had."

"I'm certain you will. I hope the sea brings you solace, Pohatu."

"Thank you, Turaga. Goodbye."

She does not see his cheerfulness drop in an instant as soon as her back tells him she will not turn to look at him again, smile flattening, eyelids drooping, eyes hardening. He watches her until she disappears from view with a face devoid of love and a sizzling in his heartlight that almost makes him feel sick; the stone in his hand squeezes through his fingers like putty, slithers between them, takes a slug-like shape as it coils around his digits squirming like a worm emerging from a fresh tomb into a summer downpour, before he lets it collects itself in his palm once more.

He crushes it gently and looks down only when he opens his palm again. It looks like a Kane-Ra bull. He tries again: this one is a Makika. A Fikou. A Dikapi. A Tunnel Stalker. A Husi. A Fusa.

A Turaga with their mask shattered.

Without a word he presses the rock with both hands to somewhat shape it back into a proper sphere, carefully, taking his time.

He kicks it as far into the ocean as he can. His eyes follow its trajectory until the distance turns it far too small for him to distinguish it against the flickering gleams of the waves in which it no doubt sinks. He continues to look at the calm waters, legs swinging idly much like branches in a light breeze.

The sea bears life, Gali said; the sea bore us.

Pohatu looks into the cradle of his siblings' rebirth thoughtlessly, quietly, hating it as much as he hates them for not swallowing them whole.

[oknerd3]

SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG OT RESPOND </3 BUT! I AM SO freakin autistic about dinos, i would LOVE to see if you post the bedroom like designs and stuff just to see!! THE DRAWING is of an acrocanthosaurus from the game beasts of bermuda (the game is KINDA fantasy but only because of- the physical morphs to indicate age- like the spikes on her back! but it is just a survival sim where you play as a dino)

BUT my favorite dino is beloved spinosaurus the most trans dino to me /silly (but i enjoy the idea of a large "gator" guy so much listen..)

my favorite herbivore is ANY kind of sauropod, they make me cry /pos

what is ur face dino- grabs you

I have some paintings of dinosaurs I’m gonna post whenever I get around to finishing them, I’ll probably show the bedroom depending on how it turns out I need to go to a thrift store and look for some dino toys for some of the little projects I have planned, crossing my fingers it turns out well (I NEED a dinosaur themed blanket I will DIY it if I have to I need one in my life)

Favorite dinosaur: I know this is basic but TRICERATOPS ARE SO COOL I love them so so much they’re my favorite

Raptors of course are my favorite carnivore, but Spinosaurus are so so cool, I need to look up more videos about them they make me so happy to hear about cause there’s always something going on there and *shakes* I love learning new things about dinosaurs

The main dinosaur game I play is a couple of the Jurassic park Evolution, I will just sit and stare at them run around for an hour, they are my little creatures and I love giving them vile little names

I wish I could play beasts of Bermuda so bad but anything even shark-like freaks me the fuck out especially mosasaurus, despite the fact when I was younger they were my favorite dinosaur (Minecraft archeology mod is to blame for that, if that mod didn’t exist I may have never gotten into Minecraft RP like I have now and like. I have no idea what I would even. be interested in now if that were the case) so I have to steer clear (unfortunately that does rule out a lot of dinosaur games, so I have to check with my brother before playing anything :/)

My little brother let’s me see his dinosaurs sometimes when he’s at a safe enough spot it won’t freak me out which is nice, he has like. Every dinosaur game he can get his hands on and we love talking dinosaur facts together, he’s already talked my ear off about inaccuracies in dinos I’ve drawn but ya know. I got the vibe down lmaoooo

Dinosaurs just make me so happy and I need to watch some more old dinosaur Minecraft videos

[gallawitchxx]

ficlet tuesday: birthday edition 🥳

today is a most blessed day, the birthday of my sweet anna of @rereadanon, who has never failed to fill up my prompt cup & is a constant source of joy & inspiration. she has also planned the weddings of most of the au boy dolls around these parts, which is delightful. her tropes were slow burn + dom/sub undertones & well, they definitely become overtones, but i did my best!

enjoy 1.4k words of a quickie au for my muse on her birthday below or here on ao3!

- - - - -

The first time Ian Gallagher laid eyes on Mickey Milkovich, he was waiting to meet with his parole officer for the first time since he’d been released. He had no priors and a Bipolar diagnosis, and yet they gave him three years for blowing up a van. Something about endangering lives, and setting a precedent. 

He was out in two for good behavior.

Milkovich was the only other person in the waiting room. He was slouched in a chair, picking at the fraying threads surrounding a rip in the knee of his jeans, his bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth. The energy between the four dingy walls of the office was fraught—even the receptionist had snapped at someone over the phone—and as Ian’s eyes traversed from tattooed knuckles to cut arms lightly dusted with hair, up towards piercing blue eyes and ink-black hair, an extra jolt of electricity shot through him.

It felt both dangerous and incredible.

“Ey,” a voice said, breaking Ian from his reveries. 

Shit, Ian thought, his head snapping towards the stained ceiling. He’d been caught staring, in just about the worst place you could get caught staring—besides prison, which he’d already survived—and by a guy who looks like he would ruin his face before he’d ever let Ian bend him over and ruin him for anyone else.

“You like what you see?”

Ian exhaled, bringing his gaze back down to his fellow parolee, who’s eyebrows were cocked high up on his forehead, steam practically pouring from his ears.

“I wasn’t…“ he stammered. “I mean, I don’t—”

“You don’t like what you see?”

“No, that’s not what—Sorry, I just—“

“Milkovich!” bellowed the gruff receptionist. “You’re up.”

Thank fuck.

Milkovich slapped his hands against his thick thighs before standing, and Ian looked away again, trying to keep the desire to scratch, and bite, and lick, and soothe at bay. 

“Too bad,” Milkovich said, his scent of cigarettes and soap wafting egregiously into Ian’s space, and filling his mouth with spit. “I like what I see. Kinda wish I’d gotten to see you in cuffs, big guy.”

He was through the door and into the belly of the office before Ian’s brain came back online.

- - - - - 

The second time he saw Milkovich, he hadn’t even made it into the building, stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of smoke curling around plump, pink lips. It was enough to warm his frostbitten fingers, heat spreading from his dick through the pockets of his bright orange-lined coat.

Milkovich was bundled up tight in an oversized coat, a black beanie, and fingerless gloves, which hid his ink, but still allowed him to cradle a cigarette tenderly between his digits. 

Ian wanted to unwrap him like a fucking present.

“Staring again, Gallagher.”

Ian short-circuited. “How did you—Have we—“

“Christ, do you ever finish a sentence?” Milkovich huffed, taking another drag.

“Yes,” Ian answered with finality.

Milkovich smirked, scratching his nose with the tip of his thumb as if to hide his growing smile.

“We got the same PO. Seaver? Saw your file on the desk.”

“Oh.”

“Arson, huh? Kinda sexy.”

Oh. 

Ian had thought he’d imagined it before—how overtly this hot, brash criminal had been flirting with him. But now it was undeniable, and that made Ian fucking weak. He wanted to get this guy on his knees. See how he would respond to a little authority; figure out if he’d get bratty or willingly submit.

Worse, Ian kind of wanted to feel how he’d respond to it, too. Wanted to know what would happen if Milkovich were the one barking orders, telling him what to do, encouraging him to keep going, don’t stop, open up…

But then the guy was finishing off his smoke, pinching the cherry from the tip and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. He chucked the butt into a nearby trash can, and opened the door to the office, either oblivious to Ian’s gaped expression or delighted by it—a master chess player who’s just a few moves from victory.

“You comin’ in, hot shot?”

Ian cleared his throat and followed.

- - - - - 

Ian has lost count of how many times he’s seen Mickey. 

Mickey, the supernova that had blasted his life wide open. 

Mickey, the wildfire that had chosen him, sure from day dot with certainty that perked his cock right up and screwed with his other head too.

Mickey, the hurricane that had felt familiar like his past, that had ripped his way into his present, and was  now barreling straight into his fucking future. 

Even now, as Ian’s tied to the headboard with some fancy silk scarves that he’d splurged on—neither one of them actually interested in being cuffed outside of a law enforcement setting—he can’t take his eyes off the man in front of him, who’s grinning vulpine and holding a remote control between fingers that had immediately stolen his attention, and have since been in his mouth, his ass, and wrapped around his dick, his throat, and his heart.

“Look fucking good like this,” Mickey says, his baby blues roaming with heated pleasure. “Bet you’ll look even better when—“

His thumb pushes a button that has Ian vibrating from the inside. He squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth falling slack with a whine that has Mickey chuckling.

“Yeah,” he groans. Pleased. “I was right.”

They don’t always need to play like this, but they’d be lying if they said it hadn’t provided some of their favorite orgasms, the two of them riling each other up, pushing, and pulling, and teasing, and commanding until they both fall the fuck apart.

They’d earned it: this comfort, this trust. For as quickly as they’d fallen into the sack—four meetings at Seaver’s office enough to have them jacking each other off in an alleyway near the L train station—the emotional aspects of their relationship had been a trudge. Two Southside felons with a slew of daddy issues didn’t provide the firmest of foundations for commitment. But they’ve made it work. They’ve been bold and brave, and when necessary, they’ve allowed for their wild physical connection to keep them afloat.

The court order to stay inside the city limits helped too.

“Mick,” Ian mewls, his prostrate almost numb against the pulsating plug.

“What’s that, tough guy? You want more?”

A few more clicks of the toy and Ian’s about to explode all over himself and the bed. But he also knows what would happen if he were to do that. 

Disobey. 

So he grits his teeth and lets his gaze go fuzzy over the light trail of hair that leads to Mickey’s thick, stiff cock. God, he wants to taste him, his tongue almost reaching for his length as his own dick dribbles against his stomach.

Mickey saunters over to the bed and climbs on, tossing the remote to the side.

“Goddamn Gallagher, look at you,” Mickey praises, doing absolutely nothing to help Ian come back from the ledge he’s so precariously teetering over. “Think you’ve been good enough for me to ride this monster?” he asks, running a finger up Ian’s reddened hard-on. 

Ian nods, reeking of desperation, barely able to squeak out a, “yes.”

“What was that?” Mickey asks, gripping him at the base.

Ian sighs with relief and tries again, finding his voice. “Yes, sir.”

It’s Mickey’s turn to nod, his other hand disappearing behind him to remove the plug he’d been wearing all night; the bulbous bung keeping Ian’s afternoon release warm inside of him. His eyebrows pinch as he pulls it from his body, throwing it towards the abandoned remote. Then, he straddles a quivering Ian and lines them both up, smiling lazily as the head of Ian’s cock pushes at his loose rim.

“Hold on tight,” he instructs, sinking down with practiced ease. Taking what’s his.

Ian knows what he means, understands that he’s both warning him about the wild pace he’s about to set, and alluding to the fact that Ian can’t go anywhere if he tried, but it’s more than that too. 

Even without the directive, Ian doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon.