#also... if I'd drink enough water i guess.....

[autobahnmp3]

also found some retinol capsules from this summer and man this really doesn't smell nice does it

[awearywritersworld]

i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you

sukuna x reader summary: you and sukuna go out for a late night meal. gojo finds out about your... relationship. sukuna is forced to take care of you when you come home drunk. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. fluff. lots of banter. cursing. jealous/protective!sukuna. gojo being a flirt. aged up!yuuji. features a teeny bit of yuuji x reader. drinking and drunk!reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i think i like how this turned out! also, the first two sections could def be read as a fluffy lil stand alone. idc whats happening in the canonverse, sukunas just a tsundere who adores us very much<3 series masterlist // masterlist

"maybe if you stare long enough, food will magically appear," sukuna calls to you from the kitchen table.

"this is no joking matter," you scold from your place in front of the fridge. "i'm starving."

"well, here's an absurd idea— let's go eat."

you turn toward him, finally closing the fridge, and tilt your head to the side. "you eat?"

"of course." he leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "i typically prefer babies, but hell, i'd even go for an old man right now. i'm famished."

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. he lets the panic simmer on your face for a few more cruel moments. "i'm kidding, idiot. i eat food, same as you."

"i knew that," you assert. the way your shoulders sag in relief tells him otherwise.

"right," he smirks. after standing up, he grabs your purse and tosses it in your direction. "where to? you're buying."

with only so many places open at midnight, you begin your journey to a 24 hour ramen shop.

you've hardly interacted with sukuna outside of your apartment, so this is certainly an experience you didn't anticipate. and in fact, you're shocked at how normal it feels— almost as if it's a date.

as you walk down the street, people eye him suspiciously because of the dark lines they assume are tattoos. it doesn't bother you though, nor does the lateness of the hour. you know that you're safe because you're with him.

your hands keep brushing against one another's, and you're hoping that he'll eventually take a hint and reach for yours. he doesn't (i mean come on, do you even know who you're dealing with?).

he does at least pick up on your pouty expression with impressive ease. "what now?"

"nothing," you huff.

"don't be a brat."

you sigh dramatically. "you're supposed to hold my hand."

"sure princess," he says condescendingly, lacing his fingers through yours. "maybe use your words next time like a big girl."

he doesn't fail to notice the ensuing skip in your step, and he kicks himself for regarding it as cute.

when you arrive at the ramen shop, sukuna orders no less than three bowls, which earns him a glare once the waitress walks away.

"when i agreed to pay, i didn't know what a glutton you are."

"oh yeah? cause i'm just the picture of temperance any other time?"

you scoff. "well you've got me there."

a sly smirk settles onto his face before he speaks again. "maybe one day you'll learn how greedy i am when it comes to the things i've deemed pleasurable."

you choke on the water you'd just brought to your lips, your face heating up as if it'd been bathed by fire.

wiping at your mouth, you try your best to recover quickly. "whatever, you hellion. as long as that doesn't involve a fourth bowl of ramen."

you're no more than 10 steps away from the shop when you hold out your hand to him. "ahem."

he grabs it roughly and not without rolling his eyes.

"what?" you ask innocently. "that was a word."

"hardly," he jeers. "for as much as you read, i'd expect you to be more fluent than a child."

"and at 1000 years old, i'd expect you to be more charming than a teenage boy, but i guess we're both making concessions."

"see, this is the part that puzzles me. you never seem to have trouble with your words when you're being insolent."

"maybe it's a sign," you begin whimsically. "the universe decided you need to be taken down a peg."

"ah, yes. you as the executor of the universe's will. i don't know why i couldn't see it before."

you giggle, rather delighted that he's elected to play along with your quips. there's something that feels so warm and pleasant about it.

as you wonder if he feels it too, your hand tightens around his.

you're not quite ready to head back to your apartment just yet, because you're scared you'll lose the atmosphere surrounding the two of you. in truth, it's a bit intoxicating.

the perfect opportunity arises when you spot a small park up ahead. lights are strung around the trees, all of which are situated around a small fountain.

"we should stop at that park!" you hardly finish speaking before you take off in that direction, tugging him along behind you.

after you plop down on the fountain's ledge, sukuna takes his place beside you.

"let's sit here for a little while."

he doesn't respond and you take his silence as agreement. he's not really one to stifle his grievances.

as the minutes pass, the rush of the fountain is the only noise that fills the air, while you gaze at the trees with a serene expression.

sukuna, however, is looking at you. the only care he has for the trees is the way their lights reflect in your eyes. otherwise, he's fully occupied by the curve of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

"isn't this pretty?" you finally ask.

"it's pretty," he agrees, even when such a soft word feels foreign on his tongue.

his eyes still haven't left you, and you seem to be oblivious to this fact until he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the back of fingers.

when your gaze lands on him, the fondness written all over his face catches you off guard and you realize how close the both of you are. without really thinking about it, you lean into his touch.

"very pretty," he repeats lowly, as if he's talking to himself.

your heart lurches once in your chest, then hammers away at your ribcage without respite. he leans toward you a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief second.

truthfully, sukuna has never felt the way he does in this moment. it's a sincere sort of desire. he doesn't want the mindless devotion he once thirsted for from his followers. and he doesn't want the sex he used to crave from his concubines.

no. he just wants you— in whatever capacity you're willing to have him.

the way he's looking at you is just too much. there's a dull thudding in your ears and you swear your thoughts are moving at a million miles a minute.

so naturally, you blurt out the first thing you can manage. "we should take a selfie!"

his face shifts from whatever that expression was to one of confusion. "take a selfie?"

some twisted mix of relief and disappointment crashes through you.

"yeah, a selfie. a picture together. ya know, since the park is so pretty," you ramble.

he pulls away from you. not all the way, but enough that it gives you space to finally breath. he chuckles and it doesn't sound lofty like it so often does. in fact, he seems genuinely amused by you.

"a selfie," he deliberates. "that sounds great, but to the best of my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over."

and just like that, your dynamic feels like it did during your walk from the ramen shop to the park— comfortable and fun.

"well i guess you would be one of the first to know."

ignoring his protests, you take out your phone and hold it far enough away that the camera captures both of your faces. you can see on the screen that he's put on an expression of complete boredom.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your elbow. "you look like you hate me."

the corner of his mouth curves upward. "that's because i do."

you think back on the way he was gazing at you just moments ago and laugh. "you're so full of shit."

then, without warning, you press a kiss to his cheek and click the button.

you decide that his vague look of contented surprise will just have to do.

when you and yuuji walk into the bar, you immediately spot one of the people you're there to meet. he's sitting at a hightop by himself, his snow white hair pretty hard to miss.

you tap his shoulder and his face breaks out into a grin. he slides out of the barstool. "if it isn't my favorite civilian!"

as he pulls you into a hug, you wonder if he's ever going to get tired of that joke. "if it isn't my favorite old man."

"35 is not old," he argues, moving to greet yuuji. "i'm still in the summer of my life, thank you very much!"

"gojo you're 36," the pink haired man remarks.

"gah! such betrayal, yuuji!" he presses his hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. "now i'm going to need another round."

"i'll go and get drinks for all of us," you offer. "you two stay here so no one takes the table."

before either of them can respond, you turn and begin making your way through the crowd. you don't hear gojo when he calls out, "but darling! i should go with you!"

he takes a step in your direction, but stops when sukuna's mouth appears on yuuji's cheek. "you certainly should not, you insufferable half wit."

"relax, dude. he flirts with literally everyone," yuuji informs him.

gojo scoffs. "i am right here—"

"as if that makes it better?" sukuna barks. "she isn't some toy to be played with."

"of course she isn't! you can't honestly think i'd believe otherwise."

gojo is left forgotten for a moment as the other two bicker, so he interjects once there's a lull in the conversation. "do either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?"

yuuji turns toward him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment on his face once he realizes that gojo is, in fact, still standing there.

his eyebrows are raised above his sunglasses and it's clear he is inappropriately amused by the situation (what else is new?). he moves to sit across from the younger man, looking at him expectantly.

having no way to talk himself out of this, yuuji relays the recent events regarding you and sukuna, sparing some of the finer details. gojo's face doesn't really betray much emotion throughout the story, though he does look thoughtful by the end of it.

leaning forward, he crosses his arms on top of the table. "maybe your feelings for her are influencing his own, forcing a sort of bond between them?"

"i don't think so," yuuji contends honestly. "other than her, you're the person i admire and respect the most, but he thinks—"

"that you are perhaps the most imbecilic rampallion i've ever had the displeasure of coming across."

gojo jerks back, as if the insult had hit him squarely in the jaw. the look of giddiness from yuuji's compliment, followed by the shift to indignation at sukuna's insult is almost comical.

he stretches his neck forward, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth as if it'd keep sukuna from hearing. "what'd he just call me?"

yuuji shrugs. "beats me, but i don't think he was singing your praises."

"i see your point." gojo pauses, glancing over his shoulder. you're approaching the table, so he turns back to yuuji and quickly adds, "we'll talk more about this another time, but for now, keep this between us."

a few moments later, you appear in front of them and exclaim, "look who i found!"

megumi and inumaki situate themselves around the table too, offering their greetings. you slide yuuji and gojo their drinks, both of which are filled to the brim of the glass. "now then gentlemen, shall we?"

when gojo teleports you and yuuji back to your apartment that night, it takes everything in you to keep from yakking all over your carpet.

"ta ta, hooligans!"

you turn to request that he never do that again, but he's already gone. taking one step forward, you promptly fall on your ass in the entryway with an unforgiving thud. yuuji staggers toward the couch, making it there just in time to face plant into the cushions.

looking down toward your shoes, you're dismayed to find that each one appears to have two sets of laces. you're fumbling with them determinedly when someone crouches down in front of you, their elbows resting on their thighs.

he doesn't say a word. brushing your hands away, he unties your shoes and carefully pulls them off your feet. you're lifted from the floor before you can register the arm that's looped under your knees or the other that's securely around your back.

"careful," you hiccup, your head falling into the crook of his neck. "'m gunna p-puke."

"i'd rather you didn't."

you groan. "s'not like i 'ave a choice in the matter."

he hums. "how much did you drink?"

"dunno. sss'much. nobara—" you hiccup again. "nobara n' maki made me."

he chuckles, placing you down on what you figure is your bed. "right, i'm sure you had no choice in the matter."

"tha's correct, yes."

unbuttoning your jeans, he tugs upward on your belt loops. "lift."

you do as he says, lifting your hips from the bed so he can slide your jeans off your legs. he knows you won't remember this— hell, your eyes are already closed— but he looks away as he does it anyway.

pulling your phone from your pocket and putting it on the charger, your pants are discarded off to the side. he only turns his head back in your direction once he's pulled the blankets up over your body.

"tuck me in?" you request.

sitting down on the bed beside you, he does so without protest.

he stares at you for a little while, worried about how poorly you're probably going to feel in the morning. he presses a kiss to your forehead, intending to get up and grab a water bottle for your nightstand.

instead, his body freezes when he hears you mumble, "i love you s'much."

his heart clenches so painfully, he honestly considers ripping it from his chest— it would probably be less agonizing.

but a thought that makes him feel like a fool occurs to him. of course it's not him that you love. "i'm not yuuji."

"well, duuuhhh. you're s'kuna." you're peering up at him through tired, hazy eyes. it's the first time you've ever seen him look bewildered, so a small giggle erupts from your throat. "s'okay. you don't 'ave t'say it back."

your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out before he even thinks to respond. all at once, it's as if his head is empty and as if it's about to explode.

love?

what does he know about love? it's a sentiment he's cursed for so long, but sitting here beside you, he can't quite seem to remember why. one thing he is sure of, however, is that there's never been a thing in the world he's loved.

suddenly, he's struck with remembrance of a quote from jane eyre you had emphasized with messy underlines:

"after a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you. you are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. i am bound to you with a strong attachment. i think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

rochester says it as he begs jane to stay at thornfield with him, an act sukuna had previously regarded as ridiculous, but is that still the case?

were you to ever scorn him, would he fall to his knees and plead with you to change your mind? or if you were in danger of dying, would he drag himself to a shrine and pray to the gods he doesn't believe in?

is that what love is?

could he stand to be apart from you? are you special to him? does anything else in the world compare to you? does he seek out your company? is he consumed by you? can he know himself without knowing you?

does the definition of love lie in those questions?

sukuna hopes not, because he's terrified of the answers. being in love is not his way, nor is it in his nature.

he buries his face in his hands as realization settles into his bones. it feels as if they're splintering beneath the pressure, trying resentfully to stave it off.

he transcends any imaginable scale of power. he's bled entire villages dry, he's commandeered death, he's the king of curses.

so why now? and why you? is it divine retribution? a sick sort of joke that even he couldn't have dreamed up?

gods, you were right. the universe has sent you to carry out its will and he's completely powerless to stop it.

the worst part of it all? he doesn't want to.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @thepup356 @risuola *users in bold could not be tagged

[god-i-hope-so]

Buck receives the call from Tommy's captain himself in the middle of the night, during his shift. He's Tommy's new emergency number, he's also been at the center of a recent discussion with Tommy's captain about it, after years of not having a real emergency number except his closest coworkers.

Buck arrives at the hospital, a little frantic, still in his uniform. He knows it's "not life threatening" but bad enough for Tommy to undergo emergency surgery. Captain Garcia meets him near the lobby, his left hand in a thick bandage, his arm in a sling.

"Firefighter Buckley? Evan Buckley? Captain Garcia. I wish we'd met under different circumstances."

"Captain."

"We were on a fire near the station, the structure collapsed, probably due to a weakness we couldn't see. A rebar went through his thigh, lots of bleeding, but he should be okay."

"Should?"

"I'm not a doctor, son, but I know when a man's dying. And he wasn't."

Captain Garcia is clear and to the point, and Buck appreciates it.

Waiting alone in the lobby of the hospital in the middle of the night wasn't on his plan for this shift. He could have called Maddie but it was 2 am when he got the call. He'll call her later.

Then a woman and two very sleepy young children sit not too far from him. While she settles the kids on the seats next to her, their head on her lap, her eyes land on Buck.

"You're Evan, right?" she asks in a low voice.

Buck is surprised, he doesn't know her, doesn't recognize her face.

"I'm Sophie, er, Dan's wife, Tommy's coworker. They were together when it happened. I know we never met but I've heard of you and Philip- Captain Garcia told me you were already here."

She looks at him with kind eyes behind her tired and worried expression.

"It's- It's nice to meet you, Sophie. I'm sorry, I- I don't-"

"It's alright, I know Tommy is a very private man." She sighs. "He and Dan have been working together for seven years now. Dan has always been the kind to easily befriend people but Tommy was quite the challenge when he was transferred at the station!"

Her smile is genuine. She's picking at her nails, her hands slightly shaking.

"Can I get you something warm to drink?" Buck proposes, already standing up. He needs to move, idly waiting has never been his thing.

"Oh, coffee? Thank you."

"No problem. Anything for them?" he looks at the sleeping children, realizing they're younger than he first thought.

"Water, for later maybe, I don't want to wake them up."

"Of course."

His smile feels stiff on his own face. He shouldn't be here, meeting the wife of Tommy's coworker on the cold plastic seats of the hospital. He should be with his team, sending bad jokes and flirty messages to Tommy who would indulge him.

When he comes back from the vending machine, Sophie is typing on her phone and doesn't see him.

"Here you go," he says softly, not wanting to startle her.

"Thank you." She tastes the coffee, makes a face and sighs. "At least you know the job," she says with a small smile.

"I guess I do. But..."

"I know. It's worse sometimes, because you know what really happens." She lowers her eyes on her coffee cup, swirling the dark liquid in it. Her loose braid slowly comes undone, letting strands frame her face. "Let's meet again around a meal, when our men are better, yes?"

Our men. Buck never thought about Tommy that way, as part of "our men". He nods.

"I'd love that. Thank you, Sophie."

He wonders if that's what if feels to be a "firefighter's wife", to be the partner of a first responder, meeting around unfortunate events and making plans for better days. Sophie shares stories about the station in hushed voice, telling Buck about the people there, the others wives and partners, the children, the parties and the solidarity. Of course, everything sounds very familiar to Buck, but it's like hearing stories from another family.

Then he hears Tommy's name being called and for a second, he feels dizzy. Sophie almost gets up with him then smiles at him. He realizes he didn't ask about Dan, but he'll make sure to stay in touch through Tommy.

The surgeon is in a hurry but takes a few minutes to explain what she did and what will happen next. Tommy will be fine, his leg will recover but the muscle has been badly damaged and it'll take him some time to go back to his daily routine. Even longer before being able to go back to work.

The room is quiet when he enters, safe for a regular and reassuring beep. Buck hesitates a second, seeing Tommy like that feels crushing, even if his sleeping face looks relaxed. His fingers slip into Tommy's hand before gently squeezing it. Feeling his warmth on his palm soothes his nerves.

"Hey, babe."

[astonmartinii]

i don't wanna be funny anymore | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem podcaster!reader

i don't wanna be funny anymore, i got a too short skirt, maybe i can be the cute one. is there room in the band? i don't need to be the front man, if not then i'll be the biggest fan

based on i don't wanna be funny anymore by lucy dacus (this song speaks to me, i love lucy (she's also AMAZING live))

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 341,203 others

yourusername: hey girl hey, new ep coming at you fast this friday all about rotting. as the twilight weather rolls in and it becomes the season of all too well, we'll talk about rotting, how we can do it right and how not to lose your mind this october (a cautionary tale, i've already lost mine)

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user1: my queen hands down five stars already

user2: the bag is so real and the way i know it's a tote that does NOT stay on your shoulder

yourusername: it's the enchante tote, shameless plug for my man

danielricciardo: you singlehandedly sell out my totes every time baby

user3: not this actual fan erasure 🤨

user4: babe be real, she has a massive platform and there was a direct correlation between the first time she plugged a tote and the fact that they sold out that day you guys just love being mean

user5: i'm mean cause i don't want some leech taking credit for dan's hardwork and his fans?

user6: he fucking said it? you guys grasp at straws every time so try and justify your agenda against her

maxverstappen1: idk what rotting is but i'll still listen to every second

yourusername: thanks maxy, though i'd say going on the sim for up to 14 hours of the day is bordering on rotting

maxverstappen1: productive rotting !

yourusername: yes, i guess your sweet little treats are trophies?

maxverstappen1: that would make sense (don't tell my trainer but i do enjoy the little fruity drinks from starbucks)

user7: yall wanna say we're mean but she's literally invalidating max, saying he's rotting on the sim is so invalidating to everything he went through when he was younger

user8: how did we get there? this grasp on straws has to be studied... from a joke about the sim to invalidating abuse?

user9: i honestly thank the lord for dan and max because they're so supportive no matter the shitstorm that yall throw at y/n everyday

user10: literally max is even listening to podcasts... real friends, i hope one day she feels confident enough to come to races

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen, georgerussell63 and 1,034,239 others

tagged: yourusername, enchante

danielricciardo: buckle up, enchante is going to the rodeo 🐎

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user13: i shall be breaking the bank

user14: dan so smart, he looks like a good boyf for including y/n but didn't include her face

user15: yall ever listen to yourself talk, you need to be put in time out for real

yourusername: we all know the phrase, save a horse, ride a...

danielricciardo: daniel?

yourusername: YUP

user16: ugh there are children who are fans of daniel, she's so gross

user17: do you ever get tired of doing all of that mental gymnastics?

yourusername: can't wait for the tote drop for this collection, yall WON'T be disappointed

user18: yes, i will always trust mother's tote recommendations

user19: anyone who carries that much shit knows what makes a good tote

yourusername: this one has survived two dostoevsky book, an unreasonably large water bottle, a laptop and microphone

user19: thank you ma'am

maxverstappen1: real love is dressing as a cowgirl for your needy boyfriend

yourusername: the things we do for love (i actually had so much fun)

user20: here y/n goes doing all the publicity, but never going to races, clearest gold digger attention whore wag of all time

user21: surely a real attention whore would go to every race to get the screen time and papped and all that jazz?

excerpt of y/n y/ln's podcast where she addresses her absences in the paddock.

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 412,349 others

yourusername: life recently lol, the enchante tote is taking a beating

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user24: she's such a crybaby making dan use up an entire portion of his interview to coddle her

user25: she doesn't come to races cause of people like you invading her privacy and being rude and here you are ... proving her point

danielricciardo: pretty lady i can't wait to be back in your arms

yourusername: waiting outside the airport now

danielricciardo: we haven't even taken off yet babe

yourusername: i know i just miss you and can't wait to see your handsome face

user26: dan must be saying this shit at gun point cause there's no way he actually thinks she's pretty

user27: are you clinically blind? cause we must not be seeing the same girl

maxverstappen1: the aperol rawdogging the bag, you are SO brave

yourusername: living life on the edge, is this that thrill all you drivers talk about?

maxverstappen1: i may drive at over 200 kmh but i'd never risk my tote like that

yourusername: is it worse that i have a jar of olives in there as well, one drop and it's so over for me

maxverstappen1: OLIVES? remind me NOT to hug you when you pick us up

danielricciardo: if you want that hug you gonna have to get in line boy

user28: she picks them up from the airport? that's so cute

user29: someone tell her the gross girl aesthetic isn't cute

user30: babe don't worry no matter the aesthetic you have daniel will never want you x

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, christianhorner and 982,344 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

maxverstappen1: finally went on my bff's (no 1 in the world) podcast after i finally convinced her yall ain't shit - oh and dan was there for emotional support x

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user31: SO ICONIC

user32: ep on repeat forever, they're so funny

yourusername: for a man who hates podcasts, you were a star i think the memes hit you hard

maxverstappen1: i enjoy the PROFESSIONALS could you imagine doing a podcast with lando

landonorris: why am i catching strays

danielricciardo: i wouldn't say that too loud, i got about 20 texts as soon as you posted this demanding i ask y/n to be on the show

yourusername: oooooooooo the girls are fighting

landonorris: so can i come on?

yourusername: i'm sure we can schedule something

maxverstappen1: don't say i didn't warn you y/n

user33: ugh now she's going to whore around the rest of the grid

user34: for real wasn't dan enough? she's not even pretty enough to whore herself out

user35: you people have no reading comprehension cause you see how dan says yall are insane and yall keep proving him right

danielricciardo: i'm so proud of you pretty girl

yourusername: i love you cowboy

danielricciardo: forever obsessed with you

user36: i'm living for y/n basically telling all these insecure weirdos to fuck off

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 603,451 others

tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: who was gonna tell me these cars are loud as shit irl

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user39: someone tell sky to stop zooming in on her i don't pay to her her ugly ass

user40: cry your heart out bro everyone else is happy

danielricciardo: oops i think you're my lucky charm you now have to come to every race ever sorry not sorry

yourusername: gosh i think that might be true - i'll be there! (but for real you are so so talented and don't need a lucky charm)

danielricciardo: i'm just so happy to share this with you, i love you so much, i'm sorry people have been so cruel

yourusername: people are passionate about you and rightly so, but i appreciate you protecting me baby

user41: imagine being this irrelevant and demanding protection in the paddock ... the audacity

user42: you finally came to the paddock and this is what you wore?

user43: she's wearing danny merch? if she didn't yall would have a problem with that as well so please just be quiet

maxverstappen1: i need you to come every weekend cause you're the only one drunk danny will listen to

yourusername: we had practice with all the wine tasting we did for his wine line

danielricciardo: i am NOT that bad

maxverstappen1: tbf it's usually him just crying about how much he loves you

yourusername: AWWWWWW (i also cry about how much i love you)

user44: gosh this is my favourite f1 couple

user45: hopefully now she has her dose of fame she'll fuck off

user46: HAVE A DAY OFF

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,451,677 others

tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: as we're nearing our two year anniversary i wanted to say a couple things. one. i love you so much. when you came into my life i was in a bad place and you truly taught me to love myself again and how to love my sport again. you're the most amazing woman ever, the kindest soul and the most beautiful girl ever. two. i am so thankful for the support i have, i do not allow the disrespect some have given y/n. you guys have no real perception of relationships between athletes and fans. you do not have the right to comment on y/n in the way you are. you take extremely low blow and have the gall to confront her in public as well. do not call yourself a fan of mine when you treat the people i love like this. my team will now begin to monitor comment sections and will seek to block and report accounts doing this. thank you and i love you y/n.

comments on this post are turned off.

note: hope yall enjoyed!! i love danny and i saw the danny ric honky tonk this morning and had to write about him. i'd also had this idea for a while but didn't know who to write for lol. please listen to the song i love lucy so much and the song is so relatable xx

also anyone who has requested - i am working on them (but as per some questions in my asks, as for right now i do not write for footballers, if i become less disillusioned with the sport (thanks chelsea) this may change)

[factual-fantasy]

Here is your reminder that the Octonauts fandom is going to be PATIENT, will RESPECT your boundaries, will WAIT for your possible return to the fandom, and will NOT pressure you into anything. Any Octonauts fan that does otherwise should not count, because they clearly do not know what it means to be an Octonaut.

An Octonaut is patient, kind, helpful, and respectful, even if things don't go the way they want it specifically. They will care for the creatures(in this case, people) that come to them regardless of how they want their day to go.

Octonauts are selfless; they do not let what they WANT get in the way of what others NEED. They do not prioritize themselves over others. If you never return to the fandom again, THAT IS PERFECTLY FINE. Because that is what I'd best for YOU. It may disappoint some, but as long as you are safe, happy, and healthy, it should not matter what people WANT out of YOU and YOUR art.

If you do decide to come back to us, then we welcome you with open arms. There aren't enough of us to form an overall opinion about the fandom, and sadly bad experiences can taint the entire look of our community.

Trust me, I've had PLENTY of bad experiences myself(probably TMI, but I once had someone DM me to roleplay something where them as Captain Barnacles had insomnia, anxiety, depression, PTSD, and a crap ton of other things and I as Shellington had to comfort him and whatnot. And then Captain Barnacles got his arm ripped off and they never messaged me again. This was on WATTPAD. They have since removed DMs, and I can see why. So bad experiences can definitely ruin one's image of the fandom.)

But if you enjoy the Octonauts and that's what you want to draw, don't let idiots stop you!! Octonauts do not discriminate and any hateful person who calls themself an Octonaut never truly learned what it means to explore, rescue, and protect.

An Octonaut is meant to protect and care for their communities, and unnecessary aggression or rude comments should not be tolerated!!! Not by you or by us! Guilt tripping is not good either!

AND: Remember to drink water, eat food, get some rest, and take time for yourself! Have a lovely day/night factual :3

<XD The Octonauts fandom is a tough subject for me for a lot of reasons.. I guess now would be a decent time to finally open up about some of it..

To start, I have had more art theft/reposters, art tracers, copying/heavily adopting all my headcannon/design choices.. in the Octonauts fandom, more than every other fandom combined. Including FNAF. 70% of the time when someone shows me an account that has reposted my art? Its one of my Octonauts comics.

I'm pretty protective of my work and I like to keep things to myself, so having all of these happen so frequently in this fandom has kind'a spooked me away..

And I get it, the fandom is not that big. Chances are when someone has a different/unique/good idea, everyone is going to adopt it into their Octonauts universe. I get it.. but that doesn't stop me from feeling really uncomfortable about posting Octonauts artwork. And I also get that a lot of the people in the Octonauts fandom are really young and don't realize that reposting is theft, or that blatant tracing is theft. That doesn't stop it from being really frustrating to see and very discouraging.. especially when you say "hey, you traced my artwork, please don't do that.." they just straight up don't listen 💀

What's frustrating is that despite not having posted anything Octonauts related in a long time, I STILL deal with constant theft and art tracers. I had to block a few recently after they denied clearly tracing my art and refused to take anything down.

Not even to mention the people who have bashed me for not head cannoning Kwazii or Calico jack as trans.. I totally understand that its a widely accepted headcannon, but my Jack is just a rare male calico and Kwazii is a regular male tabby/calico mix. The constant "why dont you draw kwazii with top scars?? are you a transphobe?? stop misgendering kwazii he's trans!!" is really annoying..

Another thing that really bothers me is the constant crab comic asks. Despite explaining multiple times that I do not want to continue drawing that comic, I still get constant asks like this,👇

This was sent after a simple eye study of the Octonauts. And it said that I'm still on the fence about Octonauts. What part of that post makes you think I'm gonna go back to the crab comic?

I understand that a lot of these people are young and just don't understand that all this stuff is wrong or could be making me uncomfortable. But currently I just don't have the patience to deal with all this junk.. So until I can get my patience back or find a work around for this, Octonauts is officially back on the shelf. 😔

[directdogman]

Commenting on DT fan OCs!

Alright, I'mma take a look at some DT fan OCs! I've been sent quite a few, so I'll try to keep my comments for each one short 'n' sweet!

great name, snappy dresser. diggin' the bowtie! the pins are also a fun accessory!

Another snappy dresser! Tied well to an existing location in-game and the idea to explain the stickers is cute! attire is unique/memorable and the blues/browns compliment each other well. solid design. I do appreciate him!

Yo, this guy was in the last one! what is this, a crossover episode???

the bandage on side of face is a nice touch! digging the pinstripe pants too! graveyard shift at a convenience store is also quite an authentic job for a DT side character to have too! very nicely done.

Solid OC! well-drawn, unique job and her fit's stylish (it probably goes without saying that i'm a sucker for TV heads with dogs on them. that's gotta be a given, right?) The stickers on the back of the head are also a nice addition! well done!

Stanley's a real cad, huh? pizza delivery guy with a novelty pizza phone head is genius - making him flirt with milves on the job is just inspired though. i almost wish i'd come up with this guy, as i can totally imagine people around town talking about him. excellent job!!!

he's aptly named for an arcade dude! dig the fit too, especially the black + purple fingerless long sleeve gloves! the decals on the phone are neat too!

I approve of his activities but the lack of a visible mouth threw me off, since i've seen these old toy phones before, ofc.

i was about to ask "how does he drink ocean water without a mouth", before realizing that id been bamboozled into asking the fandom-favourite question of: 'how does he eat without a mouth?', only to then remember that practically no DT characters have visible mouths.

i hope you know that you've strained my weary brain today. cool OC, though.

banana phone's a fun concept! also, i must say your username's quite fitting. crept up on me from my peripheral as I gazed upon the banana phone, like a bizarre centipede of some sort. well, i'd assume so. in hindsight, most centipedes i've encountered have been pretty straightforward with me. i guess i should be grateful for that.

i like mary's fuzzy phone matching the trim of her dress but martin's really got my attention. cool name, neat quirk (he kills people, that takes moxie. hell, even pizzaz too, dare i say?) The dial being a lil clock is a neat touch since it ties his interest into the design. also quite like the cord tail matching the phone head's colour. solid design!

i like his head-type and the attire/pale skin gives a nice bit of contrast!

hard to say how randy'd feel about him, as someone who's only seen his design and 2 lines of dialogue (as someone's personality dictates randy's opinion on them far more than their appearance.) if you feel they'd get on though, you're probably correct! (randy isn't too picky, after all!)

Funnily enough, one of the earliest sketches for crown has a similar bolted plate stuck to a mostly intact phone head. it was even sticking from one of the sides. or corners. i'd have to dig up the notebook, as it's been like 4 years since I came up with the character. Sorry, just made me remember since the earliest sketches had one too.

Copper phone head's a neat idea. Contrasts well with his attire as well (nice and complimentary.) if only his attempts to deter jesse from the za worked out as well, eh?

Alright, that's it for me! thanks for the submissions, these were real creative! good job, everyone!

[alphajocklover]

I'm 23 and have been obsessed with body-building for years. I'm nowhere near big though. I'd love to be blown up into an absolutely massive freak. I wanna struggle to fit through door ways, I want furniture to bend under me. I want most guys I hit on to think I'm too big.

Please can you blow me up and grow me into the biggest bodybuilder possible.

It’s finally time for another one of my personal transformations. It’s been a little bit since I helped turn that guy into a bodybuilder jock with a supernova charged battery, but last time was so much fun I knew I had to do it again when the chance came up. I guess the only real question is what transformation method is right for you. I could always use the supernova battery again, or one of the other transformation methods I mentioned in my first personal transformation, but if I’m being honest part of the fun last time was sharing all the ways I could transform people. So how about we take a look at some of my newer transformation methods.

Your first choice is a CD. It’s a special video made for me by a local football coach who has recently introduced the Jock Studies program to his school. I reached out in the hope of getting an interview with him, and just got this in return. Not even a proper response. It’s… kind of an obvious trap too. I mean, I ask a bunch of people who are famous for turning people into submissive jocks to give me an interview, and they send me an unmarked CD? I mean, you can’t report on this kind of stuff like I do without someone trying to transform you eventually. I was actually kind of honored that they considered me enough trouble to target me… but not enough to actually watch the video. You can have the CD if you want. I’m absolutely certain you’d turn into a massive jock. Although you’d also be incredibly submissive to the coaches who made this, which might not be your jam. Let’s look at the others before you decide at least.

Your next option is a bit complicated. It’s a time machine, recently stolen from a group named the SAD (society against douchebags) by the Douchebag Revolution. I did a favor for them recently so they gave me this. Said they could trust me to use it responsibly. Well, sort of. The way they said it included a lot more ‘bros’ and ‘fuck yeahs’ but that was basically the gist. Anyways, we could use it to change you by changing your past. A little manipulation of your life and you could end up a bodybuilder. The thing is that time travel is… risky. Ever heard of the butterfly effect? That’s why I try to avoid time travel as much as possible. Too much can go wrong. Let’s move onto something else, since this one is so… unpredictable.

How about this one? It’s water from a familiar little town called Maxford, the one that turns anyone who enters it into a straight, conservative jock or bimbo. Turns out drinking water that’s bottled inside the town has similar effects. Turns you into your Maxford self for 24 hours. You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get this. Entering Maxford was an… interesting experience. Um, anyways, it might not be the best choice for you. It’s temporary, and it will turn you straight the entire time you’re a hunk. That can be fun to try, but I get the feeling you want something more permanent. Let’s look at something else

Finally is a specially made necklace, a gold chain with a miniature dumbbell pendant. It’s made by a jewelry store chain that might sound familiar to you if you’ve read some of my earlier stories: EB Jewelry. Normally these are pretty expensive, and you’d have to buy them directly from EB Jewelry, but there was a mistake with manufacturing and they ended up with a surplus of these things. I bought a ton of them and wouldn’t mind parting with one. Put it on and you’ll transform into a total bodybuilder jock. More than that, I can give you more than one. You can share them with your friends, make an entire group of bodybuilder jocks that barely fit through doors. Yeah, that one is definitely the best choice. Go ahead, try it on.

Fuck you look good. You seem quite a bit dimmer now, which is to be expected, but god you look like walking sex. Make sure to share those necklaces with your friends. Using more than one might have… side effects. Plus, the more huge jocks, the better.

[misc-obeyme]

heyyy!!!! It's for the Kinktober list \o/

Solomon and breeding kink please babes ❤️

Drink water, sleep 8 hours and eat three healthy meals a day!!! Luvoo

Hey there, anon!

Okay I already had a prompt for Solomon for Kinktober when I got this ask, but I was like listen. Is it really a CC event if I don't get more requests for Solomon than any other character? So now I feel like it's just tradition.

Also I can't believe I didn't include Solomon's pact marks in the other kinktober post I wrote for him! I didn't even realize until I'd posted it and then I was like how is it that I didn't mention them at all?? I'm so into it, it's ridiculous and yet... anyway, this gave me the chance to include them so I feel that makes up for it a little bit. One of these days I'm gonna write a smut fic that's like... about those marks 'cause they just do something to me.

Anyway, I did afab reader so hopefully that's okay! I also feel the need to thank you for telling me to drink water and so on. Those are all things I almost never do lol. Sometimes I eat three meals a day, but are they healthy?? No. They aren't. Right, sorry for the ramblings lol.

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

KINKTOBER 2023

AFAB!MC x Solomon

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: breeding, penetration (reader receiving)

You were on the sofa in Cocytus Hall in the middle of a heavy make out session with Solomon when you pulled away. Solomon let out a breath at the loss of your lips, but he didn't say anything. You met his eyes, saw the desire in them and the question.

You reached down deliberately to put your hand on his erection. Solomon closed his eyes and tensed, trying not to react to the feeling of it.

"We haven't even been doing this that long and you're already hard," you said quietly.

Solomon took hold of your wrist and pulled your hand up. He leaned in, his lips against your ear. "I'm sorry, MC. I guess I'm just that eager to breed you."

A thrill ran down your spine and you shuddered in his arms. Your reaction caused him to laugh softly against your skin.

"Ah, I knew it," he said. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

You flushed, but you couldn't exactly disagree. "So what if it is?"

Solomon laughed again. "You're so cute, MC," he said. "But you don't have to hold back. If that's what you want, all you have to do is say it."

You huffed. You tried to look away from him, but the close proximity made it difficult. You considered refusing to say anything else, but your own arousal was creeping in now and you didn't think you would actually be able to resist him.

You switched tactics, turning into him. You pulled your wrist from his hand and tugged on his belt buckle. You pressed your lips to his neck and said, "I want you to breed me, Solomon."

Solomon pulled you up off the sofa, his hands already moving beneath the fabric of your clothes. He removed your shirt, kissing along your collarbones as you finally unbuckled his belt. Your pants went next, soon followed by his cloak and shirt, too.

You paused now that Solomon's bare chest was before you. You looked into his eyes for a moment. He waited to see what you would do.

You ran your fingertips over his pact marks. He stayed still as you did so, patiently watching you. It wasn't as though you hadn't seen them before, but most of the time it was easy to forget they were there, hidden beneath his clothes.

Solomon allowed you to be mesmerized by them for a few moments before he turned you around and pulled you against him. Your back nestled against his chest. He still had his pants on, but they were open enough to let his cock free and you could feel it pressed against you. Solomon's lips trailed down your neck, his fingertips trailing beneath the waistband of your underwear.

You felt your body heat up and found yourself filled with impatience. If you let him, Solomon would continue to tease you for some time before finally giving you what you wanted. So you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You removed your underwear yourself, adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Then you put your knees on the sofa, bracing yourself against the back of it.

You arched your back and said, "Hurry up, I can't wait anymore."

Solomon made a groaning sound behind you, but you couldn't see him anymore. It was only moments before you felt him behind you. He kissed down your spine while reaching around to stimulate your clit with his fingers. You pushed against them, letting out a small moan as you sought more of that feeling.

"Solomon, please," you begged.

As you had hoped, that was enough to make him finally push his cock inside you. You were wet and ready, taking it in easily and moaning at the way it felt.

Solomon didn't hold back now. He had one hand on your hip and one hand on your clit as he pounded into you. The angle allowed for deep penetration and you felt your body unraveling with each thrust. The sparks of pleasure ran through your veins, the tension building in your legs and your back, your muscles tightening.

The hand on your hip moved up to rest on your back as Solomon leaned forward further. "You're so ready for me," he said, his voice heavy and shaking with his own impending orgasm. "I'm going to fill you up."

You cried out incoherently as you came, his words sending you right over the edge. Solomon seemed to anticipate this, both hands moving to hold your hips steady as you clenched around him.

Just as he promised, you could feel his hot cum filling you up as he came, your name spilling sweetly from his lips.

From then on, you found it was a simple matter to get Solomon to breed you. As he had said himself, all you had to do was say it.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[grandlinedreams]

|| hey remember that thing I said abt boot riding and condescending, mean Coop :)

|| notes: unestablished timeline, could be seen as pre or post s1, reader can be whatever they want, waves hand something something idk man I've got it so bad for this guy also HEY. MDNI. BIG TIME. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

|| warnings: pretty much pwp, oral (m receiving), cum eating/swallowing, cursing, boot riding, Cooper is mean, hair pulling, afab reader i guess

Cooper isn't sure if it's the oppressive heat, the lack of decent drinking water or food that isn't roasted radroach to blame for your attitude, or if it's something else entirely ㅡ but you've found his last nerve over the last couple hours and are determined to rip it to shreds.

Part of him says he could save himself some long term trouble and put a bullet in your head, but he won't for two reasons. One, that's a waste of ammo. And two, he likes having you around.

You're a good companion, when you aren't in such a piss-poor mood. But it's that mood that's the current issue ㅡ and so, Cooper comes up with his own solution when you get just a little too mouthy for his liking.

"Come on now sweetheart," he grunts, voice low as he watches you, "you can take it, can't you?"

Your answer is garbled for the length currently occupying your mouth, tip of him pushed far enough that it threatens to gag you. Cooper doesn't think he's seen anything prettier than the tears in your eyes over his cock in your mouth.

He groans when you swallow around him, fists a hand tight into your hair to guide you ㅡ and the way you squirm also catches his attention. But one thing at a time, and he isn't about to give you whatever it is you think you deserve until after he's done.

He tells you so, eyes glinting as you whine around him, sound silenced by the rough jerk of his hips. "Come on, sweet thing," he coos, mocking as he cups your chin, thumbs at the bead of drool that slides from the corner of your mouth, "not gettin' shit if you can't behave."

This isn't the first time he's been in your mouth, nor will it be the last ㅡ but the pitiful look on your face only furthers his pleasure as he bucks, listens as you choke and gag around him.

His head tips back as you suck, fist tightening in your hair as you slide your tongue over the underside of him, the steady pulse as his breath hitches a little. "Fuck," he huffs, "see? Told you I'd find somethin' for you to do with that mouth of yours other than bitch."

You squirm again, thighs rubbing together to try and give yourself a little friction as his already rough rhythm turns choppier ㅡ and then he's spilling down your throat with a low groan that only adds to your own arousal.

Cooper pulls free of your mouth and watches as you swallow before he tucks himself away and snorts when you give him an expectant look. "What's that for, sugar? Never promised I was gonna help you out."

Your lips part like you want to protest, but he's right ㅡ he'd never said he was going to do anything afterwards. He smirks, makes a show of debating before he crouches in front of you, tips your chin up so he can meet your eyes.

"Poor thing, did suckin' me off get you that hot and bothered?" Your cheeks flush, and his amusement grows. "I guess I can help you out. But we're doing this my way, hm?" You blink, watching as he moves to settle a little ways away, then gestures. "Well? C'mere, babydoll."

Cooper watches you, tracking you as you settle over him in his lap. He reaches for you, pulls you flush to him before he cups your face with gloved hands. "You wanna get off so bad, you'll take whatever I give you, hm?"

Your cheeks burn, betraying you as you nod and listen to him click his tongue, sizing you up before he leans to kiss you. It'd almost be sweet were it not for the way he anchors you to keep you from withdrawing, muffling your soft noises before pulling away.

"Alright, sweetheart," he breathes, "I'll give you somethin'."

ㅡ

"Come on sweetheart, I thought you wanted this."

Your cheeks blaze, a mix of embarrassment and arousal as your hips rock, bitten off whine that makes Cooper snicker as he watches you rut against his boot. The dusty leather is far from what you'd been expecting, but Cooper had been adamant ㅡ either you got off on his boot or you didn't get off at all.

He at least pushes it against you, offers that modicum of reciprocation beyond the dark, hungry way he watches you grind against the only thing he's willing to offer.

The edge of it digs against the ache of your core, makes you groan and grind down harder.

"Look at you, honeybunch," Cooper drawls, determined to keep up a steady stream of commentary and make this all the worse for you, "that needy for me you're willing to hump my boot like a bitch in heat. Pathetic."

It should annoy you, but all the insult does is send heat curling in your veins to join the needy, sticky slick between your legs as you whimper and continue moving. Your thighs ache, your head spins with the way you're panting ㅡ but you're so close.

Cooper knows it to, doesn't miss a beat as he listens to you whimper, noises arching to something more pitched before you're shuddering, rocking your hips in rough, tiny little movements before you're panting, body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

"See, sugar? Wasn't so hard, was it?" His tone and words are a playful taunt, one that has you glaring at him.

"Fuck you."

Cooper grins, eyes dark. "That's the plan, babydoll."

[cerastes]

I was wondering if you had any advice on doing well in the new RA mode, I'd like to give it a proper go because the mode is interesting but I kind of struggled with the last version. Mostly with being efficient with resource gathering and getting my base built properly for eneny attacks. Even just a quick list of basic tips would be super helpful, thanks!

Sure thing, a quick and dirty on RA Wiseposting:

A basic understanding of math takes you a long way. What this means is, every time you go on any deployment, no matter how small, you are using resources: Six pieces of Rice at the bare minimum (for 2 energy drinks), and an Act, of which you get two per day. So that's the baseline of what you are spending outside of whatever else you bring, such as Wood Harvesters (7 Wood per unit plus 1 Stone), Crabbie Pumpies (10 Wood per unit), and so on. If you use a Harvester, getting 7 Wood out of it is just enough to break even, any more Wood you get on top of that is what you are actually bringing in. Basically, make sure you are actually not losing resources on each outing.

For the love of god, use your resources. Yeah, you need to accumulate resources to level up your HQ, but you also need to use them for Gameplay. For the low low cost of 2 Stones and 2 Water, you can make Urban Barriers that reroute enemies. For the pitance that is 5 Wood, you can make Battlements, which are your own deployable Ranged tile. For 8 Wood, you can craft a Reactive Barrier, a 5 Block wall that can hold light and medium enemies for a bit while you deploy everything else and build your DP, as RA2 maps open very fast for the most part. These are insanely powerful tools and when I hear someone struggling with RA, my first guess is that they are not using these tools. You can shape any map to suit your intent. If you can't understand how strong that is, then you are not ready to tackle this gamemode, which, actually, leads me to the next point:

This IS endgame. Like, endgame endgame. Besides using the game mode's mechanics, it's also expected that you know your team building besides "I can deploy Surtr, Ch'ung and Mlynar, and win". It's absolutely not going to work if you don't know how else to to build a comp and take on challenges harder than Do Damage To It Without Minding Anything Else. That and the raw requirements in terms of number of Operators to truly enjoy all bonuses within the game mode (like Expeditions and Logistics).

Learn to do maps as efficiently as possible: Try to master getting all the animals or resources in any given map, you are using Food and an Act to do anything, make sure to get as much as you can out of it, how to go about each given hunting or resource map, which units, how much to spend on Gatherers and Watch Towers, etc. This ties in on point one. Battlements allow you to put ranged tiles to burst resource tiles more easily, too.

Cook food and use it. Food is incredibly powerful and gives you a lot of flexibility on what you want out of each individual unit: More Block and bulk, more SP generating, more Attack, less DP cost and redeployment timer, food is just VERY powerful and by not cooking and eating these stat boosting meals, you are very much making your life harder for you. Experiment at first to discover recipes, then start cooking what you need for whatever task you need.

INTERCEPT. Intercepting is attacking enemies before they reach your base. If you lose in your HQ, you lose. If you lose anywhere else, you just keep going and whatever enemies died remain dead. You don't need to kill hordes on the first fight, you just need to thin them and make each subsequent fight easier. Why fight 230ish enemies all hitting you at once when you can attack them, thin that out to maybe 160 then 120 then to 33 and then actually defend against a fraction of them with a LOT more leeway? You can just make a team that has no intention of actually winning and instead just aims to kill as many enemies as quickly as possible before you inevitably leak the boss. Figure out your own strategies and use structures and traps you can craft.

These would be the six fundamental maxims for RA2, I would say. You can use Urban Barriers to make mazes on maps and set up kill points and other things, but that's a whole other post.

[feyhunter78]

ms girl I'm begging you to be added to you tag list for the jon snow fic cause I can't keep maniacally scrolling every 2 days this is very very serious.

thank you.

I'll add you to the taglist, but I also thought I'd reward your patience with a little chapter delivery!

Chapter Seventeen - Within the war camp of the Starks and Tullys you find yourself facing your family in different ways. CH 18

You try not to laugh as you watch Margaery smooth down her skirts, Robb’s tunic laces strung back up incorrectly, hanging uneven as he addresses his men.

“Tyrion Lannister has responded quickly, as we expected, considering we have his children and grandchildren.” Robb says, letting your grandsire’s letter be passed around among his bannermen. “He will meet us in the fields outside Bitterbridge and asks that we list our demands so that he might decide if they are worth considering.”

“Does he truly believe he has any leverage? My entire family is here.” You whisper to Jon, feeling a pang of guilt for not immediately inquiring after the health of your family. You have been so preoccupied with Jon, with sticking to him in order to avoid the harsh stares, the whispers that circulated throughout the camp. True you may have Jon’s heart, and Robb liked you well enough but their men? They did not trust you; you remained a lion at the side of a wolf, and it will serve you well to remember that.

“You know your grandsire; he will not give in so easily.” Jon whispers back, his eyes on Robb.

Robb continues, his voice gaining in volume, in confidence. “We know our terms men, the throne for Stannis Baratheon, more bodies for the wall, the annulment of Queen Margaery’s marriage—”

“And enough Redwyne wine to last us through the winter.” Theon chimes in from his place behind Robb, a tongue-in-cheek smile on his face, his eyes bright with mirth.

“Aye, enough drink to warm us while it snows.” A Northman you do not recognize says.

“And perhaps some pretty Southron wives too.” Someone else calls, as laughter begins to roll through the crowd.

Margaery laughs, and it sounds like bells, clear and pure, all eyes shift to her. “While I cannot speak for every woman of the south… I can say that I have found myself quite content with my Northman, and I am sure many others will feel the same once they are rescued from their soft willed and greedy husbands.”

A cheer rises at her words, and you find yourself biting your tongue to keep from laughing once more. Only Margaery can make possible bride kidnapping sound like a heroic deed. Though you guess you cannot blame her, nor would you blame any women that left the South for the North. If you were married to one of those lazy, greedy lords who spent all day chasing after servant girls and squandering away his gold, you would rush into the arms of the nearest Northman as well.

Even though Robb had dismissed everyone hours ago, their cheers still ring faintly in your ears as you walk towards the constructed cells that held your aunt and uncle. They were less cells but cages, bars of iron stuck into the ground, a metal sheet hammered atop for a roof. You had not wanted your aunt and uncle put in these things. They were people, not animals, but you know your presence in the camp is still a precarious one. You are still a Lannister, still an enemy of the North, and your voice is not one they wish to hear.

Tommen and your father have been put in a tent, of course. Your father had helped organize this entire plan and no one truly thought Tommen would run, he was still a boy, but your aunt and uncle? Perhaps your aunt would not run if she were alone, but with your Uncle Jamie by her side? Anything was possible.

Your aunt and uncle look up when they hear your footsteps, both dirtied and tired, the smell of smoke clinging to them.

Your aunt’s eyes are wildfire, the heat directed at you, while your uncle’s eyes are dull swamp water, and downcast. “How could you do this to us?” She spits, rising to her feet when you approach.

“I did not, I had no idea, you must voice your complaints to my father.” You tell her, handing her and your uncle bowls of oatmeal.

Your uncle takes it quietly, giving you a nod of thanks, but your aunt slaps it from your hands, the mushy oats splattering across the ground and the hem of your gown. “Tell your snake of a father I will not be given gruel and locked up as if I were a common criminal. I am the Dowager Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I will tell him, but I cannot promise much, he is sitting on Lord Robb’s war council at the moment, preparing for Grandsire’s arrival.” You say airily, trying not to look at your uncle, trying not to see the defeat and acceptance in his eyes.

“War council? That boy truly thinks he will defeat our father? You disappoint me, niece; you have squandered my lessons.” Your aunt says, her arms crossed over her chest, her head held high, even in a cage she still looks every inch a queen. “Pray to the Seven that your grandsire will be merciful and send you off to become a septa instead of taking your head.”

“Cersei…” Your uncle says quietly, leaning his head back against the bars of his cage.

“I will pray that King Stannis grants you mercy.” You tell her, collecting the bowl and spoon from the ground before turning on your heel, a mountain of guilt ever-growing in your heart.

As you walk back to the kitchen tent you spot Ser Arthur, he is polishing his sword, his eyes drifting in the direction of the cells every so often.

“My uncle spoke very highly of you.” You say once you get closer. You do not know what he had said to your uncle that day he claimed Jon in court, but it had struck him to his core. “He wished to be you, to live up to the standard you set.”

“I know.” Ser Arthur says softly, a frown etched into his weathered face, his hand stilling in its task. “I told him the truth, the whole of it, and in return he told me why he had done it, of the wildfire beneath the city. I have told Lord Robb; he will write to King Stannis and inform him of the danger.”

You are still holding your aunt’s rejected bowl, your grip on it tightening at his words. Your uncle had only once told you the story, you were young, and he was deep in his cups, the words spilling out like water. You wanted to tell everyone of his brave actions, to erase the title Kingslayer from his name, but he forbid you, said it did not matter now.

“He is better than me, surpassed the standard I set, he had always been rebellious, or we thought him rebellious. We did not see it was a conscious he possesses not a nasty streak of near insubordination.” Ser Arthur sighs.

“He hated it, standing guard while two kings raped their queens, it would have been three if Joffrey had lived, I do not know if he could have survived three.” You admit quietly, scanning your surroundings.

It is early morning, the sun still rising, the birds still waking, the breeze slightly cool but ever warming. There is dew on the grass, and in the quiet stillness you look at Ser Arthur. He is soon to be your good-father, you have grown up hearing tales of his greatness, but in this moment he is nothing but the man who failed your uncle. The man followed his oath to a mad prince so blindly he could not see the bodies left in his wake, and could not muster the courage to flee, to take Lady Lyanna somewhere safe. You know he is Jon’s father, that his acknowledgement of Jon, his affection for him has made your sworn sword happy beyond words, but you would trade Ser Arthur for your uncle in a heartbeat. Your Uncle Jaime is a good man, he saved millions. Defended you, protected you, even now as he sits in a cage, he has not lost his honor, has not spat cruel words at you for your part in this scheme.

“My uncle is a good man; he does not deserve to die.” You whisper, hoping the wind will take your words before anyone else hears them.

Ser Arthur stares at his sword, his eyes reflected in the metal. “I will ask the king to send him to The Wall, I cannot see Ser Jaime lose his head, not when he saved the whole of King’s Landing. I trained that boy, he was five and ten when he came to us, I watched him become a man with great honor, I know he has been tainted, manipulated by your aunt, but he is not beyond saving.” He says, beginning to polish his sword once more.

You nod, but do not let your hopes rise.

Your father and cousin sit playing cyvasse in your father’s tent, the entrance watched by two Stark guards, who give you a cautious look but allow you entry. Your father’s tent is large, not as large as Robb’s but more than enough for him and Tommen. Furs are laid out on two cots pushed in the far corner, a small table and a few chairs sit in the middle with a large chest set against one wall of the tent. A fire pit has been dug, a low flame within to heat the tent.

Tommen looks up at your approach, his eyes rimmed with red. “Cousin.”

“Cousin.” You echo, taking a seat between them.

“If I am to die, will you ensure Ser Pounce, and Lady Whiskers are looked after?” Tommen asks, his voice shaky, his eyes on the gameboard.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you grip the edge of the table, glancing at your father. “You will not die; you are a child.”

Tommen nods and wipes at his eyes with his sleeve. “That is what your father said too, but I wished to hear it from someone the Starks truly trust.”

Your father looks away, and you can spot tears forming in his eyes as he stands. “I must go and meet with Lord Robb; I will return for dinner.”

He makes a hasty exit, leaving you and Tommen at the table, the silence only broken by Tommen’s soft sniffles.

“You will not die; I will beg the king on my knees for your life if need be.” You tell him, taking his hands between yours. Besides your father, Tommen is all the family you have left, Myrcella is in Dorne, and your aunt and uncle will likely be killed. Your grandsire will surely be killed as well, if not imprisoned or sent to the Wall for the rest of his life.

“What will happen to me?” He asks.

You curse your father for his quick escape, it should be him who explains all this to Tommen, why is it left to you? Because Tommen trusts you, he finds you far more comforting than I. You can already hear your father’s explanation in your head.

Reaching out to brush away a few stray tears for his cheeks, you lay out your plan. “I will advocate for you to join Lord Stark in Winterfell as a ward, I do not expect it to be allowed, so my next suggestion will be for you to become a septon or a maester in the Citadel.”

“But they will hate me in Winterfell.”

“No, no, you will find happiness there, Bran and Rickon are near your age, and the Starks are good, honorable people, they understand you are not to blame.” You reassure him, squeezing his hands tightly.

“What about Margaery, what will happen to her?” Tommen sniffles.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Margaery will be marrying Lord Robb, to help secure peace.”

“They are a similar age; she will be happier with someone who likes what she does.” Tommen sounds almost relieved by the news, then his bottom lip begins to tremble, and his shoulders slump. “What if he hits her, like father or Joffrey? I saw father hit mother, I saw Joffrey hit you and Myrcella simply for speaking your thoughts aloud. Margaery has many thoughts, and she enjoys voicing them. What if Lord Robb does not like that?”

You squeeze his hands again and give him a soft smile, your heartbreaking at the thought of Tommen seeing what you, your aunt, and Myrcella had tried so hard to hide from him. “He will not, Lord Robb finds everything she says interesting, and if he does then I am sure one of his sisters will make him pay. They do not tolerate such things; you will see when you go to meet them.”

Tommen nods but does not relinquish your hand. “Will you come visit me in Winterfell?”

“Of course, Tommen, I will come see you in Winterfell then I will go see Uncle Jamie at the wall and then when I return, I will stop by and see you once more. Perhaps I will even be able to bring Myrcella.”

He smiles, it is slow to spread across his face, and it is watery, but it is still a smile. “I would like that.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @designatedramaiver

[rorywritesjunk]

No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you're fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn't want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn't necessarily take husband's feelings into account as well.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I'm just trying to vibe off what I've seen of Kid Buggy. I'm no expert. I'd protect that kid with my life. He's so adorable. I also like the trope of "Meeting your self from another time" and "gets turned back into kid-self". This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don't know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them.

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue

Chapter One

You would have thought you drank the pub dry the night before and were still drunk with what you were seeing in front of you. Except you very much didn’t drink. You stayed back on the ship, wanting a quiet night while the rest of the crew and captain went to drink the pub dry. You were perfectly sober, no hangover in sight, but you really weren’t sure what you were staring at.

Blue hair, red nose, and a scowl you knew all too well was in front of you, clutching something in his little hands while looking you up and down. “What?!”

“I… don’t know.” Which was true, you didn’t know. The kid in front of you looked every bit like the captain who was currently sleeping back on the ship, having managed to find his way home without falling off the docks and into the water to drown(this time). He never mentioned having a kid, ever, and considering how long you knew the captain and your relationship with him, and guessing the kid’s age, you would have been having a very serious talk about infidelity and why keeping your love child a secret? Seriously? wasn’t good for relationships. 

“Why are you staring at me?!” The kid snapped. “Don’t stare at me!”

“Sorry!” You smiled and knelt down in front of him. “You just look so much like someone I know, I was confused. I promise I wasn’t staring.”

The kid was on guard, tense, and looked ready to bolt, but you were curious. He just looked so much like Buggy that he had to be an offspring or some kind of relative, but the scary thing to you was how much he really looked like Buggy; he had kept some photos of his childhood onboard the Oro Jackson, and you knew what he looked like as a kid. He would show them to you on nights when he was drunk and reminiscing about the good ol’ days, singing shanties and drinking heavily. Last night was one of those nights before he passed out asleep in bed. 

“What’s your name?” You finally asked. The kid didn’t seem sure about telling you, but he must have felt brave because he straightened up and smirked at you.

“I’m Buggy!” He told you, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’m an apprentice under Captain Roger, y’know, and I’m one of the best already!”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Yea, no, something weird was going on. Why was there a kid who looked like Buggy, had the same name, and was talking about Captain Roger like he was still alive? Was this an elaborate make believe game the kid was playing, or were you staring into the eyes of your husband’s childhood self?

Weirdly enough, the latter made more sense to you. You heard of this happening, stories from sailors and pirates alike, but the stories were overheard at the bar after too much alcohol was consumed. Stories of children appearing for several days on a ship, like ghosts from a distant past, only to disappear again without a trace, but sometimes it happened the other way around, with the storytellers insisting that they met themselves as a child in the past, got to relive some memories, good and bad, before coming home again. 

“Yea?” You grinned. “That’s impressive, so where’s your crew? Your ship?”

The smirk vanished and he deflated a bit, looking around with the smallest bit of worry. “I don’t know. I was in front of them and there was some kind of flash of light, and… I don’t know where I am.”

“Oh, well, want me to help you look for them?” You asked, knowing all too well that his crew was nowhere around, he was not where he thought he was, but you didn’t want him getting into any trouble (which you knew was difficult because as an adult he managed to get himself into enough trouble). “If we don’t find them, you can stay with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I-I don’t need to be kept safe!” He snapped. “I’m tough, okay? I can take care of myself!” 

You made sure not to laugh, but it was hard not too. He was so cute as a kid that saying those things with such passion and intensity just made him even more adorable. Instead, you nodded, agreeing with him as you held your hand out to him to take.

“Well, how about something to eat? I’m just finishing up a supply run for my ship.” You said. “I’m happy to make you something before we find your crew.”

He looked at your hand, looked at you, then back at your hand before hesitantly taking it. Whatever he held in his hand he put in his pocket, making you wonder what he stole before coming here. You decided not to test the waters yet, he was feisty, proud, and if you treated him like a kid then he wouldn’t be very happy. You needed to treat him like the apprentice that he is, proud, determined, and passionate. Once his hand was in yours, you gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled at him as you started walking back to the docks.

“I have fresh apples and peanut butter, if you’d like that as a snack.” You said, eyeing him with a grin as his face lit up. That was the same snack you’d promise the captain whenever you wanted something from him. It wasn’t fancy by any means, just a simple snack, but you kept the peanut butter hidden from him so he never knew where to find it. The way the kid’s face lit up told you all you needed to know that this really was Buggy as a kid.

Oh, it was about to get fun on the ship.

~

“-and then I stole it!” Buggy exclaimed with a laugh, holding up the pendant for you to see. He had just finished telling you of his latest act of piracy, stealing some necklace from a vendor on the streets. You had fed him, given him something to drink, and you couldn’t help but walk over to him once he finished talking to wipe some of the food off his face with a dish towel. He was caught off guard and made a face at you when you did that.

“Pirates with food on their face scare no one.” You chuckled as you slung the towel over your shoulder before clearing the dishes in front of him. “And then what happened, Buggy?”

He fell silent, brow furrowed as he thought of your question. What did happen? He took off running, met up with the crew, and then a flash of light and he bumped into you-

“Buggy?” You tapped on the table in front of him, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yea, yea.” He mumbled as he looked down at the pendant in his hand. “Next thing that happened was I ran into you.”

He quite literally did. You had just stepped out of a shop when he walked right into you, and you had been in shock of seeing him that you weren't bothered that a kid was yelling at you about being in the way.

“Oh!” You nodded and went to refill his glass. “Well, you can stay with me until we find your crew, okay?”

“Are you a pirate?” He asked. “I'm on a pirate ship, but you don't seem like a pirate.”

You laughed softly at that, shaking your head. “I'm not, no. I don't do piracy, just help with the upkeep of the ship. My husband, however, is a pirate.”

“What?!” 

“Yea, he-”

“It's too loud in here.” Someone grumbled from the doorway. You both turned to look; the kid’s eyes widened and you grinned. And there he was, groggy, a little hungover, and obviously needing food and coffee if he was going to start the day. You went over to him and led him to the table, helping him sit down before you started on the coffee. “Time?”

“Lunch time.” You chuckled. “That's what time it is, honey.”

He glared at you, oblivious to the guest that was staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Buggy was a little hungover, having had his fair share of alcohol the night before. Normally you had the coffee ready for him before he woke up, so he was confused and unhappy that it wasn't readily available for him at that moment.

“It's too early.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What's for lunch?”

“Wake up first.” You brought him a cup and kissed the top of his head. “But I need you to look across the table before you drink that coffee, honey.”

Buggy looked up at you, eyes squinting in confusion. You took hold of his head and turned it in the direction you wanted him to look, and a few seconds later he pushed back from the table while you still held his head. Swearing, you popped it back onto his neck.

“W-What is going on?” He shrieked upon seeing the kid. Thankfully Kid Buggy remained seated, but you could see the confused look on his face. The two were staring at each other, mirror images except for the age difference. Before you could explain, your husband got up, marched over to the kid, and picked him up by the back of the shirt, carrying him out of the kitchen.

“Buggy-” You went after him, not sure what was happening.

“Hey! Put me down!” The kid shrieked, fists swinging and legs kicking. 

Buggy didn't respond and before you could stop him, he tossed the kid over the side of the ship and into the water. You couldn't believe he did that. You rushed to the side to look over, relieved you saw the kid treading water. So this was definitely a young Buggy, pre-Devil Fruit, otherwise you would have thrown your husband overboard after the kid. You threw a rope down to him while your husband went back to the kitchen, rambling on about curses and bad omens. 

You wanted to know what the hell that was about.

~

“I’m fine!” The kid insisted as you wrapped his hair up in a towel. His clothes were soaked and you did not have anything that would fit him, so he was currently wearing an old shirt of Buggy’s until his clothes dried. They were draped over a chair in the bedroom, the pendant he stole earlier sitting on your shared dressing table. 

“I don’t need you getting sick, sweetie.” You sighed as you used another towel to make sure his face was clean. You were mindful of the nose, touching the towel to his face except there. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“Why did he do that?” He grumbled as he crossed his arms, glaring up at you.

“Because pirates are superstitious fools.” You told him. “And… seeing you scared him I guess. I don’t know, I’m going to talk to him.” Carefully, you unwrapped his hair, making note that he needed to have it brushed to keep from tangling too much. You got up and set the towels aside before grabbing your hairbrush. “Buggy, I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you to get scared, okay?”

“I don’t get scared!” He insisted. “Not like that guy! I’m braver than him!”

“Okay, here’s the thing about my husband-”

“Don’t tell him anything!” Your husband suddenly appeared in the doorway, glaring at the two of you. “Where did you find him? Who is he?!”

You weren’t bothered by his mood, but you wanted to make sure the kid felt safe. Without a word you moved between the two, keeping Kid Buggy behind you as you crossed your arms.

“We ran into each other, Buggy.” You told him firmly. “He got separated from his crew.”

“Crew?!” Buggy shook his head. “No, get him off this ship. He could be… a kelpie or something. Get him out of here!”

“He’s not a kelpie.” You sighed. 

“You don’t know that!”

Rolling your eyes you looked down at the kid. He had grabbed hold of your pant leg, gripping it tightly as he stared at the man in the doorway. This was a lot for both of them but you needed the captain to calm down. You knelt down and touched the kid’s bare toes. He took a step back and gave you a weird look.

“Human toes, no hooves.” You pointed out. “He also mentioned the Oro Jackson and being an apprentice…” You looked back at your husband. He paled and shook his head. This was too much. This was not him, this had to be some form of trickery, or a shapeshifter. “Besides, I’ve spent enough time with my husband to know when I’m with him as a child.”

Kid Buggy’s eyes widened, looking between you and Adult Buggy. Child? Was… this supposed to be him in the future? As an adult? His jaw dropped, he couldn’t believe it. You smiled at the expression on his face, pleased the kid was in awe of this.

“I turn out to be a drunk loser?!” The kid shrieked. “Why?!”

Okay, that was not what you expected. You slapped your hand to your face while your husband looked ready to throw the kid overboard once again. Kid Buggy just shook his head, not believing this. Was this an alternate reality of some kind? He wouldn’t be like this. Was this guy even a pirate? He didn’t seem like it from the little bit the kid had seen already. He was not impressed in the slightest.

“I want him gone.” Buggy snapped. “No kelpie or bad omen crap is allowed on this ship!”

He stormed off after that. 

[junkiefox]

Teen Wolf "Green Creek au"

Part 2 | Part 1

It was a strange thing to think about Theo Raeken as an omega. Okay. It was expected, Theo was a loner. The one of a kind. The first Chimera. He was selfish, bitter, didn't care for anyone. But Liam was stroked by a feeling of wrongness when he saw Theo's eyes. Purple, so, so purple.

Because Theo was selfish, and bitter, and didn't care for anyone, but Liam didn't believe that they were all true. He was all those things, but he was also the boy who fought with him. Who decided Liam was enough saving or didn't see enough on himself to save. He was the boy who didn't know how to take someone's pain away because no one had taught him. The kid who was manipulated into thinking that to be powerful, he couldn't trust anyone.

"His leg is going to be okay," Deaton said. "It's going to take longer to heal, at least longer than it should for your kind."

Liam was stroking Theo's head, his fingers moving as if it was an instinct. He wasn't awake, Deaton had given him a sedative so he could close his wounds, and stop the unstoppable bleeding. "Why? Silver shouldn't work on him. I couldn't smell any poison. So, what-"

"He's an omega, Liam. Have been for a while. The Dread Doctors have created a perfect imitation of werewolves, even on this thing."

"He didn't have a pack before."

"Didn't he? They could be dysfunctional, and wronged, somehow, but they were all he had. A family born into that mess, or, at least, something he could rely on. He was with ten for what, ten years? They might not had the strongest bond, but they were all he had. And then, well, he had you to rely on, I suppose." Liam felt out of breath for a second, his hand stopping its movement before he relaxed, letting his hand rest on top of Theo's head. The thought was too close to saying Liam was Theo's anchor.

"How long?" was all he managed to say. "How long is going to take to heal?"

"It's not so easy to guess, but I'd say a week. He's not eating properly, nor drinking water, it's not only he being an omega that's doing this."

Liam worried his bottom lip, eyes focused on Theo's fur "I'm going to take care of this."

"Liam-"

"He can't go back to the woods. He's hurt, and he's going to be vulnerable. He can't go back. Theo is my responsibility, I'm taking care of him."

"I can't tell how long he has shifted, Liam. He- an omega can be dangerous, they can go feral. He's been missing for what, one to two months? He can be in his wolf form since then. This, combined with him being omega is dangerous. He's unpredictable. Theo might be too lost in his wolf. Besides, we don't know when he actually became an omega and how this works, since he is a Chimera."

"Exactly. We can't tell when he became an omega. Deaton, Theo was unpredictable before, and I chose to take him as my responsibility. I'm choosing again."

The vet sighed, shook his head, and pitched his nose before he looked at him again. "Call Scott. He'll want to know what his beta is doing, and why my clinic smells like Theo. Call him as soon you can."

"Yeah. I will." Liam hadn't thought about that.

Nor had he thought how he was going to hide a huge wolf in his room without his mother finding out.

He ended up sat in his bed looking at a still-asleep black wolf. His bedroom smelled like a hospital, a slight smell of blood. But it was combined with citrus and rain, caramel and lightnings. It made his stomach twist.

Theo was an omega, and I felt wrong. Because Theo deserved a pack, a second chance, and happiness. He was eighteen and was caught up in a mess when he was nine. They had promised him that he would be powerful, he wouldn't need to feel insecure or afraid, and what kid would deny that? Theo was a kid when they came, he had been manipulated and used and Liam felt nauseous.

And then, he was ignored by Liam's pack. They had been betrayed before, they had forgiven those. But they ignored Theo. He was left in the woods, they were happy that he was missing —even if Liam said it wasn't true, that he had to hold himself so he wouldn't go searching for him, he never did, so it didn't matter. They didn't care Theo was still a kid, a kid who was brought up in a broken place.

They had failed him. Liam had failed him. He was his responsibility, after all.

And Liam got it, okay? Theo had destroyed their trust, he almost destroyed them. But now, he was an omega, he had shifted into his wolf form because feelings were easier like that. And even then, he couldn't imagine how lonely Theo must have felt. Wolves weren't meant to be alone.

Liam felt sick.

He needed to call Scott, but he wanted to scream at him, even though it wasn't his fault. He never asked anything to them. However, Liam wanted someone to blame and the Dread Doctors were dead while Theo was still suffering.

He inhaled slowly. Citrus, rain, caramel and lightnings filling his lungs. His eyes were on Theo, his wolf form occupying half of his bedroom.

Liam was going to take care of him, at least until his leg healed. He wasn't going to let him alone, not again. Everything was going to be okay, somehow.

He needed to call Scott.

[batrogers]

Silenced

Written for an old Gore prompt from a friend, "Ravio + Drugs"

Rated M, for non-consensual drugging, self-inflicted harm, mouth trauma and stitches.

Also on AO3!

IIII

Rumour said the rabbit-eared merchant had finally been caught and made to pay his debts. Link had heard about it and, panicked, gone home to look for his --

He might not be a friend yet, but the way they spoke didn't bode well.

Ravio wasn't there. He wasn't at the house, and Link immediately felt sick. He swallowed hard and returned to the tavern: it'd only been a few hours. The men were still there, still drinking: still laughing about the debts in question. He walked up and seized the man by the shirt.

Link was too short to throw him to the wall, so he forced him to his knees instead and put a knife to his throat.

"I want the merchant," Link snarled. "Take me to him. Now."

The man looked from the knife at his throat to the medallions hanging from his neck, copper tokens heavy with magic, and caved.

The man led him to a building in town, not far from the tavern: his home, Link guessed. He took him inside and downstairs, past a locked door. it easily could've been a trap; Link didn't care. He'd bring the house down on their heads if he had to. He (and Ravio, he suspected but wasn't sure) healed faster -- better, more completely -- than this man.

At the base of the stairs, the man lit a torch from his lamp and turned and retreated back upstairs.

The door hung open behind him, but Link didn't care.

Ravio was crouched in a corner, arms around his legs. He was rocking himself in place, hair loose around his shoulders, dishevelled in the absence of his hood. His robes were pulled close around his body, and his arms tight around his knees.

A chain went from his ankle to the wall, and Link knelt and dealt with that first. The key hung on the wall, just out of reach, and he unlocked it and spoke, voice soft.

"Ravio? Ravio, look at me."

When the other man raised his head, his pupils were narrow despite the darkness around them. He looked frantically from one side to the other, unable to focus. Unable to see, Link guessed and he cupped his face to stop the frantic movement.

Ravio tried to focus on him, but Link didn't notice. Instead, he saw against the line of his lips black lines crossing his lips and dried blood down his chin. Horrified, Link tilted his face up and ran a hand over the lines, as if he could make that not be the case just... just by looking.

Shit.

"He sewed your mouth shut?" Link whispered.

Ravio didn't respond. Couldn't, not verbally, but instead he raised one hand and Link saw, with rising nausea, a bloody needle in his own hand.

Eyes narrow, and unfocused. Unresponsive to him speaking, for the most part and...

What the fuck had this man given him?

Enough. Link forced himself to focus. He took the needle away, and picked up the other man (Ravio was so thin; he'd seen it before but never felt it, never had to hold ihim and be reminded by the far-too-slight weight in his arms how starved he was, why he was so possessive and so concerned about the food in the house...) and he carried him home.

It wasn't great, to move between worlds with Ravio in his arms, but he did it. He got him home with him, got him to bed.

He cut the stitches from his mouth and, carefully, with tweezers and rising nausea, picked the threads from his lips and with water and rest Ravio slowly came around. He huddled against Link's chest the whole time, until finally he seemed aware enough to speak up.

"...You found me?" he whispered.

"Yeah. What happened?"

"Nothing," Ravio lied, and Link sighed.

"What did he do to you?"

There was a long pause, a longer gap as ravio clearly did not want to answer. Finally -- reluctantly -- he gave in. "He drugged me." When Link made an irate noise, he groaned. "I thought if he heard me I'd be hurt more so... I stopped it."

Link pressed his forehead to Ravio's hair. He wondered if he believed him, that that was all. He wondered if it mattered. He considered and discarded a thousand words: why did you go back, why did you risk it. Don't you know they're hunting you.

Don't you know people have asked if I was you, disguised by magic to escape the queen?

But of course he knew. Link knew that.

Instead, he breathed out slowly and kissed Ravio's hair. "You're safe, now," he said, and the other man went loose again in his arms.

"I know," Ravio said, and his voice cracked. "Thank you, Mr. Hero."

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F Chap 3

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I wanna say this real quick before this gets any deeper. This fic was my first, so I didn't know a whole lot about Batman and the Batfam? I'm not gonna change anything about it cuz growth and progress and shit like that (also I cringe looking at these first few chapters...) but I know a lot more about the DC verse now and I know some of this to be wildly inaccurate or OOC. I'm not apologizing. I just thought you should know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Galaxies on the brain, Dick wallows in the pain

Sore.

That's all Tim could feel. Sore and tired and heavy and cold. He could feel warm hands (weren't they supposed to be cold?) Holding him by the shoulders and knees. Something soft meets his back and he falls deeper into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim wakes up with a groan. His arm ached like he'd hung by Dick's trapeze for too long, his face felt itchy, and every time he took a breath his chest burned. His eyelids felt like lead and his head filled with cotton, he absently wondered what day he was on of no sleep when he'd finally collapsed.

As his thoughts swam the contents of the previous night (nights? How long was he asleep for?) Started to bubble to the surface of his consciousness. The stakeout, the full-bodied chill and his missing bug leading to the warehouse, sounds of gunshots and a closeup with a steel grey roof. After that, things get fuzzier. He remembered… Green, and white hair? Then an image of a galaxy came to him and he wondered if maybe he really had died.

Something to his right rustled and he struggled to pry open an eye enough to see. Dick was slumped in a chair next to his bed (when did he get to a bed?) reading over what seemed to be police reports. Tim tried to speak but when he went for air he came up in a coughing fit.

Dick's head snapped to attention as his little brother, now awake, tried to hack up what was left of his lung.

"Hey! Hey, Tim, you're okay. You're in the medbay in the Batcave. Calm down and try not to breathe too deeply okay?" Dick soothed as he reached for the glass of water with a straw Alfred had left for when Tim woke up.

As he watched his little brother get his breathing under control and take a small sip from the cup offered Dick felt his nerves settle for the first time that night. His brother was awake. Awake meant alive. Hurt, but alive. He settled back into his chair and shook out a relieved sigh.

"What are you doing here?" Even with the water Tim's voice sounded like he hadn't spoken in weeks.

"I said I'd be in Gotham for the weekend, didn't I? I got the call from your comm and picked you up from the warehouse district."

"Call?" Tim's voice cracked with confusion. "I don't remember sending a distress signal…" He trailed off as another hacking cough wracked through his frame. Dick held out the glass again and Tim gratefully took a longer drink.

"… What do you remember from last night?" Dick asked tentatively.

"I remember… the stakeout, my tracker going missing and following the signal to a warehouse by the docks…" Tim gasped, then cringed as the motion sent a jolt of pain down his front.

"I remember the thieves," he ground out. "I'd found their base of operations… but I was sloppy, I didn't notice one of the goons come up behind me until I'd already knocked him over. Then shit hit the fan… I remember making it out, and running, then I guess I got shot? It gets fuzzy from there…" He huffs, shaking the flashing images of white hair and swirling nebulas clear from his sleep addled mind.

He looks over to see Dick with a serious yet contemplative expression, looking down at the bedrest between them and nothing at all.

Curious and weary, Tim mutters a raspy "Why? Something happen?"

Dick seems to mull something over before shaking his head and looking up with a tired smile.

"Nothing serious enough to discuss right now. Why don't you get some more sleep Timmy? God knows you could use it."

Tim wanted to protest, he really did! But the sound of the heart monitor and that strangely familiar buzzing was already restuffing his head with cotton and his eyelids were getting heavier. That feeling of calm and safe washed over him again, sleep quickly following it. He nodded sluggishly and dove back into dreamland with his last thought ringing in his head; 'huh, the buzz sounds more like a purr now.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was not freaking out. He wasn't! He was completely fine with being in the freaking Batcave because he was a hero too. Totally normal.

The sound that wanted to escape his throat was not a squeal. Anyone that told you it was is a liar. 

As he floated through the stalactites (stalagmites? He slept through that particular science class.) He had to physically stop himself from dropping his invisibility and glowing with the force of a neutron star. He was in the Batcave! Tucker and Sam would totally freak over this when he told them. Tucker would have an aneurysm over half the tech he'd seen since getting here (not that he wouldn't already have an aneurysm over him not checking in over the last three days) and Sam would have a field day with the aesthetic of the place. He didn't dare stray too far from his—(not his, no, that's not right) the vigilante he's protecting, which was, in fact, Timothy Drake-Wayne??

He has so many questions.

Like, why was Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprise, going around at night as Red Robin?? Not that he thinks it's wrong, or anything. Danny just feels like that's a lot of stress to have on a teenager's shoulders.

He knows from experience.

The fact that he's also seen Nightwing out of costume, as well as Robin, Orphan, and spoiler with their masks off has Danny feeling like he's seen them practically naked. Because, come on, Damian Wayne was Robin, Orphan was Cassandra Wayne, and Dick Grayson was Nightwing? He'd basically just learned Gotham's richest socialite family all lived double lives as superheroes! If he wasn't already fangirling about being in the Batcave ('the freaking Batcave, ancients end him!') he'd be rolling in his grave laughing and crying from the irony.

Kicking off the nearest stalagmite (stalactite? Still no clue) he floats back down to hover just above the main floor housing the Bat Computer (!!!) with Dick Grayson talking to someone on the other end.

"-have listened to him when he first brought it up a week ago, now he's in a hospital bed! Barbara what am I going to do, I feel like this is all my fault." He watched as Dick (Nightwing? Mr. Grayson?) slumped down in his seat and put his face in his hands. That faraway stare listlessly gazing at the keyboard through slits in his fingers.

Before he could startle the man out of his train of thought the woman from the other end of the call—Barbara, he remembered—spoke up.

"You know you can't blame yourself too badly for that, Dick. While the ribbing may have gone a bit further than you'd have liked, you couldn't have been able to save Tim from getting shot. You were still at least an hour outside the city limits when Tim went to follow the lead his… friend gave him." The way she said 'friend' told Danny she still didn't quite believe in his existence yet, and he was okay with that. As long as Red Robin—Tim?—knew he was there to help, he could let the other members of the batclan think he wasn't real.

A loud groan escapes the older man as he leans back to look at the ceiling of the cave.

"I know Babs," he bemoans, "But I still can't get those thoughts out of my head!" He reached up to message his temples with one hand as silence fills the cave. This time Danny is able to help his friends(?) brothers' turmoil by blowing a bit of frost out and directing it to the back of Dick's hand.

Startled, Dick's head whips around to either side of him, spinning the chair around to face away from the bat computer with a wary gaze before slowly rotating back. He stared at his hand, the one that had previously been nursing his headache and the one that had been covered in frost.

At least, he thought it was.

Dick recalls when Alfred had first pulled off Tim's first aid bandages. He hadn't even changed out of his gear, needing to see the extent of the damage to his little brother, only to watch as green tinged blue ice was revealed to be keeping him together. The ice kept the hole from tearing and bacteria from entering his punctured lung. Alfred shared a look with Dick, confirming that he wasn't the only one seeing the strange ice. As they tried to touch the ice though -get a sample for analysis- it, along with the glove being used as a tourniquet, sublimated away to mist. Leaving the now gaping wound in his brother's side and arm to weep blood, slow and thick.

He left for the showers after that. Better to let a professional patch his brother up than someone with shaking hands and blurry vision.

"Do you think Tim's imaginary friend is a meta?" The words escaped Dick's lips before he'd realized he'd thought them. Refocusing as he heard Babs hum pensively.

"With what you've told me about the magic ice that sealed Tim's wounds, it's possible," she mused. The soft tapping if a keyboard registered on the mic as she pulled something up

"The thing is though, there aren't any registered or rumoured metas with an ice-like powerset in or around Gotham. If there were, we'd be seeing more of them somewhere, ice power sets tend to be flashier." More tapping, then a pained huff came through the speakers.

"It doesn't help that I can't seem to restore Tim's footage from after he fell off the roof," she grumbles.

"What do you mean 'can't restore it'? Even with his mask torn the way it was, the cameras in the lenses should've been working fine."

"That's the thing though! His mask only cut after he fell, it was working perfectly up till that point, then this static whine comes on over the audio and the video glitches out before cutting to static until you find him. It wasn't a signal jammer or EMP, both would do damage to more than just his camera, and a jammer would leave a trace of interference." Her groan echoes through the cave, bringing a small smile to Dick's face as she continues.

"The comm too, if something had tampered with it I'd be able to tell! And yet there's no evidence of tampering and I have a recording of some almost unintelligible mess of a voice talking to us over the main line. Right beside ours that come over with perfect clarity. It just doesn't make sense!"

A chuckle couldn't help but escape Dick's lips as Babs let out a defeated huff on her end. Glancing back towards the medbay he recalled the few times Tim tried to tell him about his patrol companion.

"A snowflake in September," he mumbled pensively, gaze sinking down to his hand again. Then with sudden clarity, he whipped his head up and scanned the Batcave more closely than before, squinting up into the dark corners of the high ceiling.

At one point Danny thought Dick had caught him somehow, the odd cold spot in the area. His shoulders sagged in quiet relief when the vigilantes' eyes swept over where he was floating.

A cold spot in a cold cave isn't odd, after all, and the sensors weren't displaying anything unusual.

Dick glanced back to his hand one more time before turning back to the bat computer and telling Barbara he'd give her an update on Tim's situation in the morning. Saying their 'sleep well's' Danny watched as Dick shut off the giant computer, checked in on Tim one more time then headed to the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim woke up quicker than he had previously. The smell of breakfast wafted to the medbay even from all the way upstairs and his stomach rolled in hunger. Something cold was sitting over Tim's wound, pressing into it but strangely not hurting him in any way. The cold felt familiar, comfortably cool but not chilling, and he could faintly make out a low hum -purr?- coming from somewhere to his left. He cracked one eye open to see both what was in him and the origin of the purr, when the pressure on his wounds released. The lightness around his shoulder probably meant there was another cold comforting thing there he hadn't noticed before. Prying both eyes open fully he looked around the small patient room and realized the purring had stopped and that he was alone. He wasn't awake enough yet to wonder why that was strange, just happy when he heard the ding of the elevator open.

Someone in the Batcave meant he could get some food, after all.

Dick poked his head into Tim's room a few seconds later, a bowl of what appeared to be Cream of Wheat in his hand. He gave a smile, seeing his little brother awake, and let his body follow his head into the room. Setting the bowl down on a pull out table for Tim, Dick chipperly asked "how are you feeling, Timbo?"

"Like I decided taking Bane one-on-one was a good idea," he groaned. Sitting up enough so he could eat, he watched Dick give a half-hearted chuckle while staring into the mid-distance. Half remembering the conversation he had with his older brother last night while spooning the warm cereal into his mouth, he looked around and sarcastically commented between bites, "sooo, you gonna tell me what was on your mind when I woke up before? Or do I have to figure it out myself?"

The comment startled Dick more than it should have, and as Tim frowned at the reaction Dick turned his head, his gaze sweeping the room before he spoke.

"That imaginary friend of yours," Tim cut his brother off with another groan.

"If you're still going to make fun of me for that-" Dick raised his hand, trying to pacify the conversation before he could finish.

"Don't worry Timmers, I believe you now. I should have believed you when you brought it up the first time and I'm sorry for that."

Tim almost groaned again when he felt the tension drop from his shoulders, jostling his arm. He wiggled in his bed to readjust himself before allowing Dick to continue.

"I was going to ask if you knew anything more about them. They've been following you around for a month, right? Do you know if they pose any risk to you or the family?"

Tim shoved another spoonful of the gruel into his mouth, it was bland, but it gave him something to distract him from the fact that Dick had steamrolled over an actual apology and went straight to business.

Shaking his head as he swallowed his mouth full down, he began.

"While I don't know much other than they can apparently make ice from nothing and make things glow, I can say they don't have any ill intent. They saved me Dick, after I fell from the roof they caught me and… I think they got the guys chasing me off my back."

He ignored the images of a black-clad white-haired figure flitting through his mind with another mouth full of cereal.

Dick sighed, none of the bats liked not knowing things about what's happening to them, but the fact that the entity following Tim saved him from a bad fall released some tension from the older birds shoulders.

"So you don't think it would do anything to hurt you? I need to make sure, Tim."

They both shivered as a sudden chill filled the room. Pretending not to notice Tim answered, "no, I don't think the thing that's been following me on patrols, helping me with cases, protecting me for a month would hurt me now after all this time."

Was it weird Tim thought that so surely? A little bit. But with the way the room warmed up just as quickly as it cooled had him realising that maybe he and his brother weren't the only ones in the room. Now that he focused, he could feel the quiet cold sitting behind him.

It had never followed him to the cave before.

'Shit.'

The implications of something potentially dangerous being able to make its way into the Batcave, a heavily protected and monitored fortress of a hideout had Tim shivering for a different reason. If B ever found out, he'd have Tim's neck.

He also realized he could hear the thing purring again. 'Like a big cat,' the thought made him huff a laugh, it certainly did seem like he'd taken in a stray, an invisible, cold, possibly monstrous stray, but a stray nonetheless. The purr grew louder to Tim following his laugh and that same feeling of safety washed over him again, like a blanket.

Tim turned around—really just craned his neck, he couldn't really move otherwise—to try to pinpoint where the purr was coming from exactly, but when he faced away from Dick the comfortable noise stopped dead. The feeling of safety stopped with it, making Tim wonder darkly if the creature was intentionally making Tim think it was safe to gain his trust. He pushed that thought away as soon as it came, if it did intend to hurt him, it would be Tim's fault for trusting it.

Turning back around he found Dick watching him. Mumbling a weak and slightly annoyed "what?" He shovelled another spoonful of the now room temperature cereal.

Dick shook his head. 'So the thing following Tim really did come back to the cave with us,' it didn't bode well for them to have a potentially dangerous sentient creature of unknown origin in the cave, but if his brother thought so highly of the thing, he supposed he could let it stay his secret for now. Dodging the question he drawled, "you know, there isn't any footage on your feed from after you slid off that roof."

The "what?" That came from his brother this time sounded less annoyed and more confused, so he counted that as a win.

"That doesn't make sense, my mask wasn't that badly damaged in my escape, or the display would have told me." He watched his brother's brow furrow in thought.

"Yeah, Babs is pulling her hair out because of it. Apparently after you go over this whine comes over the audio and both cut to static until I find you."

The faces his brother was making would be funny if he weren't so curious about it. Seeing his expression finally land on clarity Dick urged "you know what happened?"

"I think I do," Tim admitted. "I heard a buzzing… it didn't have any source that I can remember, so maybe that's what caused it?"

"A buzzing? That could be it, I didn't hear anything when I found you, so it lines up for when the feed comes back."

Noticing the bowl in front of Tim is now, in fact, empty, Dick figures that maybe now should be where he cuts the conversation. The voice over the comms can be addressed once his brother's gotten some more rest. He stands, takes the bowl from the table and turns to leave when he hears Tim mutter a quiet "wait."

Dick stops paces from the door and turns to face his brother. Tim seems to fight with himself for a moment before he ground out "thanks for believing me, finally."

He doesn't look up to see his older brother's reaction, but the smile could be heard in his voice.

"Of course, Tim, I'm sorry I didn't believe you sooner." With that said, he walks out feeling lighter, and yet with more questions than when he walked in.

Danny watches as Tim sinks into his bed, mindful of his injuries. The bats know about him, with that fact alone he should be leaving, yet even now his core urged him to stay and protect. 

He knows staying is only going to lead to trouble.

He doesn't want to leave.

Leaving means going back to that rundown dump of a townhouse he's been squatting in for the last three months, doing odd jobs around town during the day just to get a bit to eat (not that he needed to eat much with all the ambient ectoplasm in the air) and going back to looking over his shoulder for the GIW or, ancients forbid, his parents.

A soft "hey" breaks him out of his anxious thoughts, and looking over he sees Tim looking in his general direction. The goosebumps on his unbandaged arm tell Danny that he may have made the temperature dip again, unintentionally this time, and he makes a conscious effort to raise it back up to a more comfortable level.

"I know you're there." The sudden admittance made him jump, but Tim continued on, "I know what I saw last night was you. You saved me and I wanted to thank you. Not just for the save, but also the lead on the ghost thieves. For whatever reason you're reluctant to show yourself, and knowing some of my family you have every right to be, but maybe some sign you aren't just some hallucination or actual imaginary thing would be nice? I kinda feel like I'm talking to an actual ghost here." The last bit came out with a chuckle on both ends, Tim for how crazy he feels talking to an empty room and Danny for just how close Tim got with that quip.

Another internal struggle for Danny, oh joy. Revealing himself would be bad, but maybe something small? Tim already knows he makes ice to some capacity, and he's asking so nicely, Danny thought it wouldn't hurt, right?

On the table in front of Tim, where his bland breakfast previously rested a small statuette slowly materialized from condensing mist. Tim watched as the small mound of green tinged ice formed a base, then on nearly invisible supports a nebulous disk spread out. An icy galaxy sat before Tim, about as big as his hand, and it moved. Even after finishing its creation, the edges twisted and swirled in a continuous dance. He could see glittering stars and fluctuating nebulas as tiny clouds of glittering snow.

It was mesmerizing.

Reaching out to touch it, Tim was surprised at how solid it was. It was like touching compacted sand, if they had stuck the sand in an ice box overnight. Ever so gingerly he took the galaxy off its supports and cupped it in his hand. Despite it being made of ice entirely it gave off a strange warmth. It reminded Tim of holding a warm cup of coffee and relaxing with his family. He had to remind himself to breathe as he put the statuette back on its pedestal. The warmth lingered on his palm as he again searched for the cold spot.

It was right in front of him, and he could tell it was watching his reaction. Carefully, he reached out, like he'd done before on that night he'd decided to befriend the strange creature. Unlike before though, his fingers brushed against something. Fabric, he could feel it but there was still nothing to see. His hand slid down what must have been an arm before feeling a fisted hand just over the bed near his thigh. It was tense, and as the cold familiarity of the hand he was holding set in he realized the being sitting on the bed in front of him was afraid. He could feel the quiet anxiety coming off in cold waves, and he had to wonder what it was afraid of.

Tim shifted for better balance and the hand underneath his flinched. Was it… was it afraid of Tim? Afraid of what Tim would do if he knew it was real? That both did and didn't make sense. The being in front of Tim was powerful, he had no doubt it could level all of Gotham if it wanted to, and none of the bats would be able to stop it (not for lack of trying, of course) and yet it was afraid of Tim. Tim, the guys that practically lived off coffee and 5-hour energies, Tim the one that accidentally falls asleep at the batcomputer so regularly Alfred had a specific blanket tucked away just for him. That Tim.

The hand below his flexed again and he realized it must be waiting on an answer. With what he hoped was a reassuring pat to the back of the gloved hand before him, he smiled and snickered, "now, was that so hard?"

The fact that while the hand hadn't moved, the waves of anxious cold he felt warmed up had Tim cheer a silent victory. Trying to look in the direction of where the beings head could be, he continued.

"I get it if you don't wanna show yourself, I really do, but maybe you could keep me company? I probably got six to eight weeks laying in this bed, and I don't know about you, but I'll probably die of boredom before that's up." He chuckles, and going off of the way he feels the hand underneath him bounce, he guessed the thing in front of him does too.

"So yeah, you're welcome to stay, if you want. Maybe help me pull a prank or two, and I know that no matter what you are, you're going to love Alfred's cooking."

Well shit, Danny basically just got the go ahead to haunt the Wayne family, by one of the Waynes. He feels like he should be honoured? Sure the fact he doesn't want to go back to living in that stupid townhouse is another driving factor, but having a friend that doesn't mind his ghosty bits outside of Sam and Tucker sounds really appealing. It doesn't help that he's been really lonely.

Tim feels the hand slide out from under his. Before he can marvel at the fact they did it without making any sound, or mourn the loss of the comforting cold he watches as the galaxy statuette lifts off its base. The statuette hovers above the table for a few moments, then raises and dips repeatedly, straight up and down. Tim laughs at what could only be described as the floating statue nodding at him, before being set down on its base.

"Well I guess that settles it then," he laughs, "if you're going to be around more often, I'll need something to call you though." The room temperature takes a dive, not as cold as before, but still noticeable.

"Okay, I'm going to guess you either don't have a name, "the room temp doesn't change " or have a name but can't or don't want to say it." The room slowly warms up at that. So it has a name but can't use it. Tim can work with that.

"Well, how about I give you a name until you can tell me your real one? I'm not as good as Damian in naming things but I'm sure I can think of something." A hum heard and Tim begins to think of what he could call his new friend. Remembering the white hair he saw the night before and what was probably the same figure as a nebula had his eyes wandering to the statuette sitting prettily before him. So the being either likes space or space themed things (did it come from space? An actual alien? Just another thing to think about.) Trying to recall the knowledge he gained from the few times he's gone stargazing, a name pops into Tim's head that makes him want to laugh.

"How do you like the name Arcturus? If I remember right it's one of the brightest stars and it looks white when you see it in the sky."

The reaction he gets is instantaneous, a loud purr reverberates throughout the small room and this time Tim does laugh.

"I suppose that's as good of a 'yes' as I'll get. Good to finally meet you Arcturus." He holds out a hand before realizing that a handshake probably wasn't going to happen. Before he could take his hand back he felt the hand he was holding previously snake into his and grip it gently. He smiled and shook it, absently noting the claws he could feel poking at the back of his hand.

"I feel like this will be the start of a beautiful friendship," he grins.

A puff of frost in his face has him snort and grin in the direction of his new friend.

Yeah, this'll be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Ao3][Prev][Next]

[gayerthanevertbh]

tall child | i want you pt. 6

natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation

pairings: older!natasha romanoff x young!fem reader

summary: your father doesn’t know it yet, but you’re in love with his best friend. and what makes it better is that you’re sure enough that she feels the same way. the sad part is, neither of you can word out your love for each other properly.

warnings: slight argument, heavily detailed smut, g!p natasha, dom!natasha & sub!reader, dirty talking, pet names, slight fluff, and angst - MINORS DNI.

notes: what you ask, you shall receive! also listen to “i want you” at the end of the chapter, trust me it’s worth it lol x 

I had anticipated the party at Felicia's house before I arrived. Only a few people were present; by "few people" I meant at least 20 people gathered around the house. Most of them were outside, swimming by the pool. The others were by the kitchen, where a single man serving them drinks appeared to be my dad's age. While watching MJ try her best to flirt with Felicia, who showed no interest, I was in the pool area with my feet in the water. Why would you go after someone who has no interest in you? I don’t understand the concept of that. You’re just wasting your time, leave before you get hurt.

I wasn’t an experience alcoholic drinker, I barely even drank half of the beverages that were served in the kitchen. Maybe it's because my tolerance for alcohol isn’t so great – I remember myself getting drunk for the first time and being woken up by my father laughing fondly at me. Oh, Y/n, he would say with a sigh. You’ve always been such a little girl. And maybe I was; which made me feel a little uncomfortable being here.

Yet I still drank half of the vodka that was in my glass.

I considered calling Natasha and asking her to drive me home, but she mentioned that she was going to play poker at an underrated bar in town. I was intrigued at first. Why would you play poker this late in the evening? Are you seeing someone else? Is some girl touching your crotch now since I'm not good at it? To be fair, though, I was also outside, and if I had those thoughts, I'd come off as hypocritical. I wonder what she thinks of me and what her thoughts may be when it comes to me. Did she like the way we kissed? How our hands touch under the dining table with my father around? I could still taste the saliva from her mouth, and it was sweet like a grape. Having these naughty thoughts tingles down my spine, it wouldn’t be the best idea to do it here out and open.

“Y/n.”

As I slowly turned around, I saw Bucky standing there with his yellow shirt open to reveal his bare chest. Before taking a sip, I grinned at him a little, hoping he wouldn't notice how I was cringing at the taste.

When I did not respond to him, he sat down next to me and removed one stick of tobacco from his shirt's small pocket. He gave me another look in the hopes that I would return at least one, but I did not. He sighed.

“How are you?”

I shrugged. “Doing okay I guess,” I finished my glass and felt myself wincing. I shouldn’t even be drinking this kind of alcohol, it makes me feel sick. “How about you?”

“Doing great now since you’re talking to me.”

“Are we supposed to be on speaking terms?”

“Y/n–”

“I know what you did the other day,” I told him, showing him that I’m not into small talk. He pursed his lips together and hung his head low. “You tried ruining us both, I thought you were my best friend?”

“My feelings for you don’t go away for a day,” he explained. “You expect me to be fine when she looks at you the way I look at you? No, of course not. You picked someone so old when you could have me to spend the rest of your life with. I think she’s using you only for pleasure, Y/n.”

“How do you even know that?” I couldn’t help but scoff under my breath, turning away from his face as I could see an agonizing pain from him – which I cannot endure. But when he said that Natasha might be using me, somehow that made me think. What if she was? What if I’m just some girl that she’ll take advantage of, and that I’m nothing special? That stung my heart, and I could feel my knees weaken from his statement.

Are you using me?

“You don’t think I hear you having sex with her in your room?” Bucky scoots closer to me, his lips trembling with anger or despair. “You don’t think that I haven’t seen her touching you by the waist? Or sometimes by your fucking ass? She’s using you!”

“Keep your voice down–”

“I would never use you like that,” he sighs, pinching his nose bridge. “I would never touch you the way she touches you, I don’t even think you like the way she does it.”

“But that’s none of your business!” I hissed at him, as I furrowed my eyebrows. Our conversation was getting intense, and I had this feeling to walk out. But I couldn’t. We both looked at our surroundings, and no one suspected us of having a short argument. Perhaps we weren’t so loud after all, since no one batted an eye. I kept our distance again and whispered to him, “I love her, and she loves me. She wouldn’t do something like that, I know her better than you do.”

He shrugged his shoulders and lit his cigarette before throwing it across the bushes. "Maybe you know her, but something in her eyes that screams evil," he continued. He made a poor choice by saying that. "Y/n, I love you. I doubt I'll ever love anyone else the way I love you. I will respect whatever relationship you have with her since I am still your best friend. Just... don't harm yourself. When it comes to her, be cautious.”

I wanted to stand up for her and convince him that Natasha wasn't like that. Whether or not we had sexual relations, she loved me unconditionally. She showed me numerous displays of affection that didn't require her to physically touch me, and they led to me falling in love with her. She is not at all what he has described her to be.

A moment of unbearable silence abrupt us both.

I added softly, entirely off-subject, "My mother has never reconciled with my father ever since they had a divorce,” I didn't need those sad expressions he gave me as he stared into my eyes. "And I've loathed my mother ever since. She was nothing but emotionally abusive towards me and doesn't have anything pleasant to say when it comes to my being. Natasha has been looking after me more than my mother has since I've been here. She cares about me and is always there. And when I needed her, where was she? Gone. She was there for me physically, but not emotionally. Simply put, Buck. But Natasha? She spares me the kind of suffering I've experienced."

Nothing else was said by him after that. Instead, he gave me a quick nod before getting up and heading off. I didn't chase him down or even shout his name. I simply sat there with my mouth open, thinking that if I had ever loved this boy, I never would have fallen in love with Natasha. Yet no matter how little of the world Natasha and I were a part of, I know I'll come back to her. There was nothing I could say to change the fact that we were both intended to be together.

I soon found myself back at Felicia's home. Bucky didn't bother to offer to drive me home, so MJ said she would. I offered to walk home, but she refused and grabbed her keys by the handle before leaving with me. While we were in the car, I thought heavily about what happened with Bucky a while ago. Although the drive was quiet, it wasn't uncomfortable. I listened to the music she liked on the radio and took in the nighttime sky as I imagined Natasha. For all of us, this summer was perfect. Maisy, our second maid, was chopping off leaves from our garden as my father was reading an ancient book that came from my grandfather. Natasha, meanwhile, simply sits next to him while sporting a nice expression and smoking a cigarette almost as an aesthetic. The people that were a part of my life this summer, whom I utterly cherish, are what I have enjoyed the most.

Especially that woman, that sane woman.

“Is he okay?” she asked, breaking our silence. “And you don’t seem drunk.”

“I could say the same with you.” I chuckled in response, causing her to laugh quietly as well.

“You and him have been always fighting, I don’t get it,” she said while turning her steering wheel. “Like, what are you two fighting about? Just tell me you’re gay, Y/n. Maybe then he’ll leave you alone.”

Despite being a closeted bisexual, MJ made me feel protected. Perhaps I should have told her that I could fall deeply in love with a woman, but it didn't feel appropriate to say it now, especially since we were both drunk. Yet my mouth spoke differently.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll tell him that.”

She smiled, shaking my left shoulder gently.

“I’m sure he won’t mind.”

If she only knew that I was in love with a 38-year-old woman, then she would react in a different way.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I know he won’t.” that was the biggest lie that I’ve ever said.

I entered my room, tossed my tote bag on the floor, and flopped onto my bed to smell the fresh sheets Maisy had just changed. Tomorrow might be a better day for me, maybe my father would make something nice for breakfast, or fish at the sea with Natasha and the rest of them since that's something that we enjoyed doing. MJ might invite me over to do something fun, I don't know. My mind was clouded with exhaustion.

As I began to breathe slowly, I heard the door being closed. Too tired to turn, I whispered: “Who is it?”

“Hi, detka,” the woman that I’d been thinking about not nearly 15 minutes ago was in my room, and it made my night entirely better because she was here. I turned my head slowly and smiled at her before she got into bed with me and gave me a small kiss on the head. “I’ve missed you today.”

“Missed you too, Tasha.” I sat up with a groggy look and hugged her tight, smelling her scent. Did she drink tonight? I thought to myself. Before I could even ask, Natasha lifts up my chin and looks down at me with the most sultry eyes I’ve ever seen. “Tasha? Are you okay?”

She sighs under her breath and pushes me back down onto the bed gently, kissing my mouth with hunger as she does so. “Yeah,” she murmured while fondling my breasts over my shirt. “I just… I need you tonight.”

“What’s going on? Did something happen tonight?”

She simply shakes her head as she keeps her tongue slithering inside of my mouth. Our kiss was so intensely needy and desperate that I could hardly even comprehend it. I gently pushed away from her chest as I worriedly eyed her, but when she looked at me with those hooded eyes, I knew she wanted to fuck me right then.

“Tash, are you sure about this? You look–”

She pleaded with me imploringly, "Please," tucking her hand into my shirt and squeezing my left breast. I whimpered in return. “I'm begging you to let me make love to you tonight… please.”

How was I going to refuse her? Of course, I also desired to have sex with her. I cupped both of her cheeks and nodded, kissing her briefly before her hands assaulted my naked breasts again. As she continues to kiss my neck with her tongue flat against my skin, I notice that her eyes are closed. I shivered, not because I didn't want the kiss, but rather because the intensity of the experience made me want her to take me right there. But as soon as she lowered her sweatpants and bounced her cock in the air, my needs were satisfied.

“You want me, baby?” her voice was huskier this time, and I could feel myself getting wet from it. She swiftly removes my shorts, along with my underwear, and spreads my wet folds apart. “You want me to fuck you now? Oh, I’ve been wanting to be inside you for days…”

We didn’t have sex for the past week since everyone was at our house. But since my father was asleep and it was just the two of us, she immediately took this opportunity to fuck me in my bed – alone in the dark of my cold room. As my eyes were shut tight, I felt her hand gripping my jaw gently – asking silently to open them again.

“Look at me when I fuck you,” she demands, but not to the point that her voice is scary. I nodded in reply, my breath trembling as she slowly pumps her dick. “You know that I love you, right?”

“O-Of course,” I replied, biting my lower lip as she dragged the tip of her cock through my folds in an up-and-down motion, teasing me with that sinister grin. “Oh, god–Natasha–”

“Shh,” her thumb presses against my lips as she spits on her other hand, spreading it along with her penis while her eyes were looking down at me. My god, I think I’ve never seen this version of her before. “It’s okay, ‘m here. Daddy won’t hurt you, I just need to be inside of you right now…”

Before I could even utter a word, she slowly slipped her cock inside of me as we both groaned about how good it felt to experience this kind of sex once more. She moans into my neck, whispering: “Fuck, you’re still so tight. I could barely move inside of you, oh god…”

“Tasha,” I murmured into her ear as my nails scratched her back, her shirt still on. “You’re so big!”

“Shhh,” her lips met with mine once more as she pulled out slowly, then thrusting back in with much force this time. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me. Never notice how wet you are for me, you wanted this too… don’t you?”

I nodded, whispering with a moan, “Yes! Yes, you feel so good inside of me–Oh god, go faster!”

We could only hear my bed squeaking and quietly banging against the wall as she rocked her hips against my skin. Since we typically make a lot of noise when having sex, I was surprised by how quiet we were this time. I held her tight in my arms as she thrust into me at a faster pace, her thrusting was more different. It felt like she was in a hurry, or that she needed to release that quickly. So I lifted up her head and asked, “Take it slow, Tash. We have the time in the world.”

“Can’t,” she replied back with a whimper. “I just–Fuck, just need you right now sweet girl.”

She clung to me while repeatedly pulling her cock out of me as she observed the connection between our sexes. Natasha had a thing for watching us fucked, it was as if it was her favorite thing in the world – and I could be right. The room started to fill with the sound of our skin, and the moisture started to warm up. Once more, our lips met, and I felt her tongue brush up against mine. My body began to feel like it was heating up like a kettle. Natasha pushed thrust after thrust into me, as if I were a balloon about to burst.

Her hands were now on my hips, forcefully gripping my skin, and huffed each time her cock was hitting my spot. I felt overwhelmed by this feeling, and there was nothing I could do but hold her close and let it all happen.

“I love you,” she whimpered with a deeper voice, snapping her hips back and forth against my mind as I felt her entire length inside of me, making me whine in desperation. “I love you so much, detka. I don’t want a-anything else but you, o-only you…”

Each time she thrusts into me hard, I could hear the squelching sound coming from our joined sexes. Her gaze on me was heavy, as if she was hungry for more and I couldn’t help but give her the same look, since I felt the same way that she did. A low hum escaped from her mouth when I clenched around her dick, her hips stuttering for a bit.

“I love you too,” I whispered breathlessly. “I’ll always love you.”

Natasha's eyes were closed and she thrusts into me at a much faster pace, her hips rising. As she pursued her orgasm, she grabbed the sheet next to my head, her groans growing louder and faster. “Just like that,” she cried. “Keep taking it for me, j-just like that… Oh god!”

The bed was starting to creak loudly, and I patted her upper arm to keep ourselves quiet. She sees my hand and decides to give me a strong kiss instead, though it was sloppier than usual. “This pussy belongs to me,” Natasha panted on my lips. “All mine, okay? Not Bucky’s, mine.”

“Yours!” I moaned quietly, biting my lip hard that I could feel the coil taste on my tongue. “J-Just yours, Oh god–please!”

She stutters her hips and says, "I'm here," as she buries her head in my neck and forces her cock firmly back inside of me – her balls tighten with orgasm. “Fuck, I’m here. Just stay like that, yeah…”

I came around her cock, crying out with my eyes closed tightly. She touches my cheek with her hand and kisses the corner of my mouth, flopping herself on top of me. Our chest heaved while she lazily thrusts her cock inside of me, eventually pulling out with a sloshing sound. I looked down and saw her dick twitching, and I smiled fondly at it.

Natasha hugged me that night and slept next to me after our passionate encounter. She still had her head buried in my neck, and her leg was wrapped around my waist. Looking up at the ceiling, I held her in my arms and realized that everything we did was driven by an insatiable need for one another. I noticed her mouth was slightly gaping when I looked to my side. It made me want to reach out and touch it. She wasn't a restless sleeper, so I refrained from doing so.

“I love you,” I whispered to her slumbered self, smiling blissfully. “I love you, and I’m sure that I’m all yours until the end.”

The house was once again crowded, and this time I was irritated. My father kept inviting his colleagues, and as much as I wanted him to be happy, I also felt lonely with him because I haven't spent enough time with him since Natasha entered the scene. As I strolled down our house's hallway, I noticed Maisy making Natasha's bed. This made me concerned; it was as if she had departed without saying goodbye. "Where's Natasha?" I said as I walked past her room.

“Went out for a walk,” Maisy replied tossing her dirty sheets into the basket. “She was trying to find you a while ago, but you were still asleep.”

I let out a huff. “Oh,” I sat on the foot of her bed and placed my hand against the mattress. “When will she come back?”

“She mentioned around late noon, since she looked like she was in a rush,” she rubs the sweat off her forehead, and I decided to help her with the laundry basket – but she refused me to do so. I still don’t understand why she treats me like a kid still. “No, don’t do that! Your father will be angry if he sees you helping me.”

“But you’ve been with us ever since I was a baby.”

“And you'll always be a baby in my eyes," Maisy laughed, leaving me alone in the room. I stood up and quietly shut the door, hearing it click. I was finally alone in her room, with no one to bother me. I clung to myself on her naked mattress, desperate for her to return and kiss me again. Our sex a few weeks ago wasn't enough for me; I needed more of her like a hungry little bitch. But instead, I was all alone – just like any other summer back at home.

A few moments passed, and I suddenly felt nauseous. So I went to the kitchen to grab myself a tab of paracetamol and drank it with water, then went back to my room and rested. But by the end of the day, I still felt even more sick than usual. I was surprised that I still had more energy in me as I walked to Natasha’s door and knocked. And when she opened it, she gave me a huge smile on her face.

“Hey,” she greeted, brushing her short hair away from her forehead. “Maisy told me that you were feeling sick all day, are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured, holding my stomach together with my arms. “Just feel like I want to vomit.”

“Sweetheart, do you want me to call your dad?” she worriedly placed her hands on my shoulder as she took me back to my room, and I shook my head in reply. “Are you on your period right now?”

“I think so,” even though I haven’t checked my underwear today, I have a feeling that my period has started. “It’s okay, Tash. I can take care of myself from here.”

She merely lets out a small sigh before gently kissing my forehead and enfolding me in a cozy hug. She whispered "I love you." into my ear like a baby in a swaddle. It was pleasant to hear her utter those three little sentences once more. She looks down at me while stroking the back of my hair while having those brilliant green eyes. "Are you certain you'll look after yourself? I have to spend tonight with your father because of work and other stuff."

“I’ll be okay, I promise.”

That evening, she left with my father, leaving me once more by myself in my bedroom. After I realized there wasn't any blood on my underwear, I made the decision to use the restroom and urinate. Strange, I observed. I was supposed to have my period this morning.

I then remembered my experience with Natasha from a few weeks earlier, and I realized I had sex with her without using any form of contraception. I gazed in the mirror, terrified, but decided to remain cool because I didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Fortunately, there was a pregnancy test in the drawers since my father had added them in case of emergency and took the test.

Nine minutes later, I checked the test and it was revealed positive.

Positive.

My eyes widened, and I suddenly felt more sick than ever. I was pregnant, with Natasha’s baby.

With her baby, I’m having a child with her.

I sat on the floor, the test clenched on my fingers, my mind racing with plans to tell her about it. Would she be upset with me because I was careless? Will she accept that I won't be able to have this baby right now? I wailed quietly into the corner, feeling my world darken with horror.

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