#and I was what one would call an INSIDE kid

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

Just finished reading this and I LOVED IT!!!

May I ask for another part but with Jade, Kalim, and Silver??? Pwetty pwease??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

If you read this, thank you for taking the time to do so and please have a nice timezone!!!

A/n: Hihi!! Srry I just woke up a few minutes ago!!! And sure I can! Thank you for the request, @onegianthotmess !!! And thank you for the kind request!!! Love your pfp btw!

💋🪽Wifey material, but can still kick ass💋🪽

Characters: Jade Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Silver Vanrouge (omg I'm so terrible at writing Silver-)

Warning ⚠️: fem!mc is the warning itself, OOC(cuz I'm not sure if I wrote it right.. I mean, hc, yes?), I'm terrible at describing fights (help), maybe slight cussy as well??, Reader takes a random brick somewhere (Jade's part), violence(?), <-idk it's just the guy bleeding, Jade is a warning bc I said so (and his stupid gorgeous face), idk what else is in here, amazing Grammer/j, it is not accurate since it's future 🫶, idk what else to add.

Fem!Mc [<-but the kid calls you momma bc u give off those vibes.]

The last part here <-💋🪽

Jade Leech (When was the last time hisui-dreamer was active on Tumblr??)

You and Jade were a very happy couple, a bit too perfect (ahem). You are a very sweet and dedicated wife, yet you tend to forget things. Oh, no worries, my dear~ sit back and relax, he'll do it for you. He insists. But, of course, in the end, you'll give him a nice reward. The two of you are just lovey-dovey behind closed doors or subtly outside until both of you had [insert name]. [Insert name] was almost like a Jade 2.0 (when will there be a timeline your kid gets most of your genes? Idk), but had the same fcking compassion for mushrooms as your husband... oh dear heavenly fathers... but it's okay, you still loved them. [Insert name] was kind of like you, having the same hair color and that distinctively obvious black hair strand from Jade's [If your hair is black or dark, just pretend the strand is longer than the rest of the hair, and tends to stick out]. So, your kid was sweet... And cunning asf. Floyd liked calling the kid 'sea bunny' but since the kid was a half-mer (<-eel), it was an inside joke... now, how would you feel if your man/kid got hit/kidnap?

Your man gets hit:

•Idk how that happened. But, let's say he got caught off-guard for once and didn't expect the weak looking client to jump him like that.

•Well, isn't that interesting? And, to think that this client was capable of packing a punch-

•Oya?~ who's that- *A brick being thrown at the assailant with sound effects.*

•Ah... Well, if it isn't his lovely wife coming to the rescue!~ and, to think that you had this wonderfully fierce side of you? How delightful. It felt like he was at the courting stage all over again.

•So fiery, so protective... How come you haven't shown this behavior in a while? He'd love to see more of it. Come, after this, let us go to a private dinner, yes?

•So Cue to weeks later from the incident, he's here just spoiling you, oh. Don't mistaken him for being afraid of you, no, no, what a silly thought. He's just... a bit more infatuated than usual...

Kalim Al-Asim

•No, he isn't planning anything (other than torturing the poor soul that you had to deal with) he just wants to spoil you.

•And keep you to himself, making sure you wouldn't have to deal with 'those' anymore.

When your child gets kidnapped:

Your child isn't really going to get kidnapped. Rather, it was the opposite. It was the kidnapper getting kidnapped. No, your child isn't weird, they're doing the right thing, momma! Look! Aren't you happy?

So your child gets hit instead.

•Jade is enraged. No one should be touching his family. Not his kid, nor his wife.

•So imagine he masked all that, but then you bolted in again.

•With an aluminum bat with spikes. (Club? Bludgeon?) Sprinting toward the assailant with the speed equivalent to a horror movie chase.

•Oh, my. You're wearing the formal dress he gave you when you two were attending an important event! How interesting it is, seeing you wear it now. And in that state of anger as well. Ah, and look at his child, giving you words of encouragement. He beams, revealing all razor-sharp teeth he has. His co-workers trembling, because WTF? WHY IS THAT FMAILY FILLED WITH PSYCHOS?? They really thought you were the normal one (but comparably saying, you ARE the normal one in the family of Leech).

•Then you went back to normal (and no, let your imagination go wild with whatever happened to the guy you hit with the bat..), oh, it's playtime! C'mon [insert name] let's go to your favorite location! Yayayay!

•Yes, a normal family...

Your man gets endangered (<-yes):

So, you were doomed by the narrative bc you're being married to a merchant's son. Not only that, he's the HEIR to a massive FORTUNE. So, what I'm saying in short is... you're cooked. Especially your child. But you two can watch out anyway (maybe not Kalim, but you). But Kalim is emotionally intelligent (hc), so, he's not entirely dumb about his situation either. He's worried you'll be next, getting poisoned, assassinated, kidnapped for ransom, blah, blah, blah... yeah, you had to shut him up for that. And you two eventually had a kid. [Insert name]. Or more, depends. But, nonetheless, what's happen is your man/kid gets hit/kidnapped?

•He knew this would come, but he didn't know exactly WHEN. But it did anyway, so as he was preparing- what?

Silver Vanrouge

•You were there, tackling armed men. Throwing one assassin to the other (<-accidentally kissed), threw the other one downstairs(<-broke his spine and more), another one was hanging on the ceiling (<-doesn't know how to get down bc equipment broke), the rest was being whooped by you.

•Oh...guess he didn't need it anymore! (<-what was it? Don't ask me.) Haha! Whoa! You can fight!??! Hey, teach him! Or both our child! Haha! That being said, the family said no (bc Kalim doesn't need too, the next heir as well. But, shh you snuck the kid out to practice), so let's not tell anyone what you and your child do at night, okay? You totally weren't teaching the kid how to swiftly attack your beloved archenemy. Haha, never.

•Okay, maybeee a little. But hey, never too careful in this family, right?

When your kid gets kidnapped:

•Fuck no. The kidnapper should've heard about the motherly beast of Al-Asim (whom, is you),and they should know. NOT to touch your child, right? But...money... well then they die like [dumbass] men.

•So que to you snapping one of their necks, choking some of them, half of them killed themselves bc they didn't wanna deal with you, most of them pissed their pants seeing you, then getting crushed by a big-ass pillar (dk where you got that from), and using one of their men as a weapon itself.

•Uhm, well...nvm they're letting your child go now... IS THAT A BLINKY- *POW POW POW POW*

•Kalim arrived just in time to see his wife and kid safe. Phew!- wait. Huh?

•How are you guys- nvm. He remembered now, you probably pulled the gun on them. Well, uh... now he knows his wife is fully capable of protecting his family! No, he does not want you to be an servant. You are his wife, not maid. Get back here, and cuddle with him.

You and Silver lived happily ever after. A simple life, a simple house, Silver financially supporting you, and the cycle of love (between his parents) happens all over again. With you being his sweet and dedicated wife, although tending to forget important things, you know you'll never forget to wake up your important Silver, and [insert name]. Actually, [insert name] looks a bit like you, and has the eyes of their father. They have your dedication and tendency to forget, while they also have the determination, soft-spokenness, humility, and kindness from their father (And sweetness from you). So what happens if your man/kid gets hit/kidnapped?

Your man gets hit:

•Ain't no way.

•huh. You really think you could be slick with all that? No. Don't touch Silver dumbass.

•Though, personally thinking, I don't think he needs much protection so let's say you and Silver team up and jump the guy (Silver was doing the talking, he was holding his feral wife back...) but when he couldn't get the message? Oh no, all of a sudden. His hand slipped. Oh, and if they hit Silver's wife? Wallah. That guy asked to meet God.

•So after the entire conflict was over (personal crash-outs, BBW-ing the guy, doing a sumo stance, literally every martial art mechanism) the guy (crawled) ran away.

•Safe to say no one messed with you or him.

•Never.

Your kid getting kidnapped:

Okay so maybe your child was sleeping (like Silver), and unfortunately, Silver was sleeping. He didn't know there was a stranger coming in to take his kid away, thankfully you were awake. You heard the scream, Silver woke up to a very normal morning of you beating the shit of an intruder...

•Ah...What a fresh start in the morning. Really. *Watching you throw hands with somebody while spitting bars of insults.*

•What? You said that [insert name] almost got kidnapped? Ah, well it can't be helped when he felt the feeling of uselessness in him. Because he couldn't protect his child. What kind of father is he?- "Silver! A little help here!" Yes, he's on it.

•*Unsheathes sword.* No Silver, not like that/j

•But anyways, after this, the child was safe, "Momma!" [Insert name] cried out. The child was safe, you were safe, and lastly, Silver's family is unharmed.

•But he must be vigilant from now on, though.

The End

A/n: OMG IM SO SRRY FOR POSTING THIS IT WAS MEANT TO STAY IN DRAFTS??? BUT ITS OKAY ITS DONE ALREADY

[marvelwitchergilmore]

A Cup of Coffee

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You and Bucky make a promise to share a cup of coffee when he gets back from war. But sometimes a promise has to be broken.

Disclaimer: Fluff, hurt/comfort vibes, little angst. Asgardian!reader. 40s!Bucky/Winter Soldier. Kinda ignores the full MCU timeline but follows it enough to make sense...I hope. Mentions of death and violence (but not too much). Not Proof Read.

“Just a cup of coffee, please.” A voice spoke beside you before stradling the stool, two seats down from you. “Thank you.”

You’d been seeing them all day. Young men fighting for an old man’s cause across the water. A lot of them wouldn’t return. You knew that. You also knew the ones that would, would definitely have a few stories to tell. Most would probably take them to the grave. 

You’d seen plenty of men die in war. Some were stories. Most were beside you. 

“When do you leave?”

“Sorry?” The man turned and looked at you eventually. You hadn’t looked at him when you spoke. Your eyes remained fixed on the cup of coffee in front of you. 

You looked at him, eventually. A soft look in your eyes. “I asked, when do you leave?”

“Oh,” he seemed a little embarrassed. He should have known what you’d asked him. “A few hours. Got my orders this morning.”

As the waitress came back with his coffee, he went to pay. But you beat him to it. It’s the least you could do for him. 

“No, I’ve got it.”

He seemed a little surprised but thankful all the same. “I feel like I need to pay you back somehow.”

You shook your head with a light smile. “No need.”

He nodded, looking at his coffee cup before looking back at you. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

You smiled, “Y/n.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

He motioned to the seat beside you. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“No. But I would have figured you’d be waiting on someone special.”

He chuckled a little, but shook his head. “No. Not tonight.”

Bucky moved to sit beside you and you turned your stool to face him a little better. It was up close you realised his eyes were blue. The corner of his mouth raised slightly as he talked, his voice deep. There was still a youthful and hopeful glint in his eyes. 

You hoped he held onto that. 

The conversation between yourself and the soldier lasted two hours or more. Eventually, you walked with him to his train station. Wives were kissing their husbands goodbye, sisters were hugging their brothers, kids were kissing their fathers and uncles goodbye, and mothers were drying their tears from the thoughts that they’d never see their sons again. 

“You really should have let me walk you home,” Bucky told you. 

You smiled and looked away, shaking your head. “No. It’s better this way.”

“If you say so.”

You nodded and looked back up at him in time to see his expression change. The smile faltered for a moment as his thoughts took over. 

“You asked me before if I was meant to be meeting someone special tonight.”

You nodded, stepping a little closer. “I did.”

The smile returned on his face as you felt his hand take yours. He raised it between you both. “I think you were meant to be that someone special.” 

You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment as he kissed your knuckles before kissing your palm. Soon, you felt the scratchy green material of his lapel under your palm, his kiss searing into your skin. You made a decision. 

Pulling him in by his lapels, you leaned up and kissed him. 

It was like electricity inside you before a calming wave of serenity took you over as he held you closer to him. All the other passengers on the train melted away; their voices became nothing but white noise behind you both. 

Laying a hand over his heart, you heard the final whistle being called. 

“Good luck, soldier.”

“Will you be here when I get back?”

You’d been moving from place to place on earth for the last five years. You never stayed in one place longer than a few months. You also never returned. 

But that was the first time you’d broken your promise to yourself. 

“When you get back, I’ll meet you at the cafe. You buy the coffee.”

Bucky chuckled. “Deal.”

He kissed you once more before one of the wardens walked by and tapped him on the back. “Better get on the train, son. Before it leaves without you.”

Bucky nodded, holding onto your hand and kissing your knuckles as you closed the door to the carriage with him. 

“Wait, I-I need your address. To write to you.”

The train was starting to move. You didn’t want anyone to have your address, just in case. 

“Write to the cafe!” You called over the sound of the horn. “I’ll write you back, I promise!” 

The train was moving faster than people on the platform could keep up with and eventually you had to let go of his hand. 

From the distance until the train disappeared, Bucky continued to wave goodbye to you. 

A letter was waiting for you at the cafe two weeks later. You and Bucky wrote to each other for almost a year. Little did you know, those would be the only thing you’d have left from him. 

A little over a year later, you found a thick letter waiting for you at the cafe. The waitress, Dottie, handed it over to you with a saddened look in her eye. 

“The mailman dropped this by, this morning. I’m so sorry, honey.”

You sat down with a weight on your chest as you opened it. A sob caught in your throat as four letters fell out. Three of them you recognised immediately. Bucky’s handwriting. But the fourth…

In the cafe, sat in the same seat you’d first met Bucky on, you read from Captain America’s own handwriting. What had happened on the train, what had happened to Bucky, how he’d talked about you enough to let Steve know the final letters and pictures should be sent to you. He wrote about how sorry he was. A real funeral couldn’t be held until the war was over.

Without a body, it was simply about raising a toast for another young life given to a cause. 

“Can I get you anything, honey?”

You wiped away your tears, quickly. “Yeah, um, can…can I get a cup of coffee. Please?”

Dottie nodded with a sad smile. “Of course, honey.”

So. 

Sitting alone in the cafe you were meant to see him again, you raised a cup. 

“I love you, soldier.”

When you finished, you thanked Dottie for everything and left her a large tip. That evening, you moved away and tried to move on. 

It proved more difficult than you expected. 

You’d lived thousands of years, seen thousands of people die, seen thousands of people fall in love. And yet, Bucky was the one person out of it all that never seemed to leave you. 

After twenty or more years, you stopped running. Asguardian soldiers stopped hunting you, Loki came to find you and you both hashed out your grievances. 

But despite all of that, you ended up settling back in Brooklyn. You watched as people went to and from work, forgetting the histories you’d lived through; creating futures they dreamed of. 

You heard of Peggy starting up Shield. And one afternoon you strolled past the memorial set up in the soldiers’ memories. 

And the first name you spotted was Bucky’s. 

He’d been lost years before Shield, but Peggy still continued to honor Bucky alongside the rest. You kept your eye on his fellow Howling Commandos. Watched as they had kids, who eventually had kids of their own. 

You watched them grow a family part of you still dreamed about with Bucky. 

As the years passed by, you settled into ‘normal’ life. You dated every now and again, but none of them ever lasted. None of them contained that spark you had with Bucky. You didn’t mean to compare them, but what had happened in the 40s…

That was the kind of love that lasted a lifetime. The kind grandkids would look up to and say, “That’s the love I want out of life.”

Yet, as the years rolled by, things started to happen that even you had never seen before. Men came back from the dead. Men you had known. 

First it was Steve. It was all over the news. A fallen soldier pulled out of the ice. A man out of his time. 

You could still remember the thundering in your heart as you watched him run through Times Square. 

He was alive?

He was alive.

“Oh, god.” You held a hand over your heart. 

Three weeks later, all hell broke loose. Loki, a man you’d once considered a brother, an enemy, and then a friend. He decided to have a moment in the spotlight for all the world to see. 

You had ran round New York, helping those you could. You tried to find him. You might not have seen each other in five decades, but you couldn’t just let him tear the world apart. 

But The Avengers beat you to it. From there, Odin and Thor would handle the rest. 

You thought about going back, but you never did. Something in you told you to stay for the sake of Steve. He didn’t know you existed. To him, you’d been long gone since the 40s. Probably dead. 

If he only knew. 

However, everything changed when he was made an enemy of the State and footage from a fight on the bridge made its way to social media. You watched as a masked man with a metal arm jumped onto a car and swaggered his way over, changing the clip in his gun. 

CCTV footage that was shown on the six o’clock news revealed a fight between the ghost dubbed The Winter Soldier and Steve. 

From there, your research began.

Decrypting Hydra files, travelling to countries you hadn’t seen since England’s Tudor era, facing climates some people would never know. But it was just before a bomb had been detonated outside the UN building that you came to discover the first successful subject of the Winter Soldier programme. 

James Buchanan Barnes. 

Bucky. 

You’d eventually found yourself in Serbia, but you were far too late. All that was left were scratches on walls in place of a fight. And, considering Steve was on the run, it didn’t take a genius to work out who it had been between. 

You searched for two years. 

You had tried to contact Thor and Loki. Maybe they could help. But they were no use. Off world and fighting someone else, probably. 

After a year and half in Wakanda, Bucky was finally free of the Winter Soldier’s control. And, ultimately, joined Steve to help weed out the final members of Hydra and The Red Room. 

But the longer he spent with his fellow man out of time, he started to feel like he was being watched. Not by the Wakandans. Not even by his team. But by…a ghost. 

He’d look across the street and see someone. But it was only a flash in his memory. Someone who’d been in his dreams long before the nightmares of Hydra took his mind over. 

But it wasn’t. 

Because a moment later, they were gone. A shadow in the dark. A sunray behind a tree branch. 

It took another year, but Steve and his team somehow received a full padron. Probably had something to do with the whole world going to shit. But even as he lived a semi-normal life outside of the Tower and training facility, the memory seemed to constantly follow him. 

Buses through the city, subway staircases, busy street-corner food trucks, green parks with enough space for kids and cyclists. 

Then one day he found it wasn’t a memory at all, but rather a person. 

The part of his mind that longed for his past was playing tricks on him. So, he made a decision. 

And it was in a cold warehouse with a dusty concrete floor and broken ceiling lights, Bucky came face to face with his ghost. 

You breathed heavily and smiled a little as his blue eyes landed on your gaze. “Hey, Soldier.”

Bucky couldn’t breathe. His hand still held onto your arm as you lay on the floor below him. “You…you…you’re not…this isn’t real.”

“I can explain.”

He was shocked, which you expected. 

“Mind helping a girl up?”

Bucky, for a moment, did so. But then stopped, pinning you back onto the dusty floor. “How do I know this is even…you? Who are you?”

You understood completely. “The day we met, it was in a cafe. I bought you a cup of coffee and our waitress was called Dottie. You asked for my address and I told you to write to the cafe, instead.”

He believed you. You could see it in his eyes. You could also see that he didn’t believe it could be possible. 

“I know I made you promise to buy me a cup of coffee the next time we saw each other, but I think I should buy this one.”

It took a little more convincing but eventually Bucky helped you up from the ground and walked with you to a cafe. 

“Is this?”

You smiled and unlocked the door. “Yeah.”

You locked the door behind you once more and lowered the shutters a little more. Walking around the cafe bench, you started up the percolator. Turning around, you saw Bucky look around the place. Photos scattered the walls. Some that were still on the walls when he was young. But the more he looked, the more he noticed. 

Old signs, posters and pictures. But the ones that stood out to him the most were the ones he was in. One from a pub table in London. Him, Steve, Peggy, and the Howling Commandos. A few more were filled with the same people. Others had soldiers Bucky had met or seen when he was still in the army. A few love letters had been framed and hung up, too. 

“Couples.” Bucky looked at you as you spoke. “Turns out this place can bring people together in unexpected ways.” 

He kept looking across the walls. That was when he saw an old receipt, the paper aged with time. 

The receipt from the night he met you. Dottie’s name was scribbled across the top, the bill was at the bottom. 

“Here,” you said as you began pouring the hot coffee. “Get it while it’s hot.”

Bucky took his old seat across from you, holding the mug in his two hands. 

“Thanks.”

You smiled, “You’re welcome.”

“So,” Bucky took a sip of the hot drink. “When did you buy this place?”

“Mid 90s, I think. It was a cafe for a long time. Then a sandwich shop, then a laundry place. Eventually, it went on the market and…I took it on. Restored it back to what I remembered it to be. 

Bucky nodded, impressed. But one question remained on his mind. And just like that night on the station floor, you watched as Bucky’s smile fell from his face. But this time, it didn’t return. Memories haunted his mind, part of him still not believing it to be true. 

For all he knew, he was about to wake up. 

“How are you here?”

You took your time explaining your past. How you were not from the world he knew…once knew. You were from a completely different one. 

Asgard.

A few earth years before Bucky met you, you’d upset a lot of people. Specifically one of the princes. Eventually, you were pardoned when they realised you’d only meant kindness when you gave your opinion in the court that day. 

You’d voted against Loki. 

He was one of your closest friends, but you knew he wasn’t ready. Considering he was Odin’s son, most people voted for him. 

As his closest friend, you’d not only betrayed him but also the throne he sat on. 

You nearly got caught a few times, but managed to evade them. But despite all being forgiven, you’d decided to come back to the one place that had felt like home since you’d left Asgard. 

“And you’ve been following me ever since?” 

You nodded. 

“So…in London? And Edinburgh?”

You nodded. “I didn’t think it was time for you to know, yet. But I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Does Steve know?”

You shook your head. “No. Peggy didn’t either. But I kept my eye on him when he came out of the ice. I waited for him to walk in here one day. He’d passed this place so many times. He would have known instantly considering the pictures I keep in here.”

“Why do you keep them here?”

You shrugged and smiled, if a little sadly. “Reminds me of a life I nearly had. Of a life others have had. That…” you gave a deep sigh, “that life keeps going but the past should never be forgotten. You never know when it might show up again.”

Bucky looked at you, and for the first time since the day he left you, he smiled. 

Your soul felt light again. 

Sheepishly, he looked at the cup in his hand before looking back at you. “I know I might be…”

Bucky took a guess at the amount of time. 

“Eighty years too late. And that you might own this place but…would you mind me buying you a cup of coffee sometime?”

You nodded, trying to suppress the glow in your smile. “I’d love that.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

NSFW + violence/injury

She’s...just a normal looking little kid. She’s absolutely swamped by one of Eddie’s hoodies, and is currently rocking it like a dress, bare legs ending in floppy, too big socks.

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to leave her in the fluid spattered, clinical white pajamas she had been wearing.

Her eyes are brown; human looking.

The peach fuzz haircut even kind of suits her. Or at least, doesn’t look out of place. She could definitely pass.

Eddie lets his whole body clench, briefly, in fear. Now he has two unregistered Synths in his apartment. Hadn’t seemed so bad last night in the face of Eddie’s exhaustion, when the kid was an inanimate object on his couch. Seems real now though.

Steve had hugged her. It was the first thing she’d done once she’s blinked alert; thrown herself at Steve. And they'd hugged. For ages.

Normal. Human.

Too human.

Affection of the kind that’s organic, that would be almost impossible to fake. Spontaneous. A need for touch and reassurance that is not, even remotely, born from anything synthetic.

“Eddie, meet Eleven.”

She’d shaken his hand, gentle and warm.

“Yeah, going to need to call you something other than Eleven.”

She’d looked to Steve then, for guidance, “how about just El, for now?”

She had nodded, frowned, and then the first words she spoke were, “where is Henry?”

Steve hadn’t hesitated, “Mars.”

“Do you have anything signal blocking? Preferably static resistant too?”

“I...should do?” Eddie rummages through his things, comes up with an anti-static parts bag and small signal blocking storage box.

“Okay if I break this?”

“I...sure,” Eddie answers weakly, and then watches as Steve cracks the box at the seams with his bare fucking hands. He uses about the same amount of effort Eddie would use to open an envelope. Maybe less.

Steve...makes a thing, while Eddie watches. He lies the bag lining flat inside a small towel, then broken slithers of the box plating, lined up neatly, before folding the whole thing over and trapping the shield inside.

Eddie watches, with no fucking clue what’s happening, as Steve pulls the whole thing over El’s face, like a blindfold, blocking her eyes and tying it at the back, “good?”

“Good.”

“Errr..what are you guys doing?”

“Just wait a minute,” Steve tells him.

Eddie does. He waits. He desperately wants to make himself a coffee, but the apartment is silent, and it kind of feels like he shouldn’t disturb that.

So he stands, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as El...does nothing.

And it feels like it goes on for a while, even if it probably isn’t. Just all the nothing making the minutes drag.

Eddie jumps when Eleven drags the towel off her face. It’s sudden, fast, and then she’s blinking, and there’s a drip of green coolant leaking from her nose.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re here, you’re here with me,” Steve kneels in front of her, letting her grip at his shoulders as she orientates herself.

Steve shakes the loose parts out of the towel and uses the corner to clean the green goop off El’s face, “you’re okay,” he keeps saying, “you’re safe now, it’s fine, you did great.”

Eddie has no idea what she did great at, but he sees now why Steve is the babysitter.

El, finally, speaks. “I found him.”

A little, tiny, prickle of fear skitter up Eddie’s spine, “found...who?”

It’s a redundant fucking question, they all know who she found. Eddie knows who she found, he just...needs to ask.

El turns to look at him, “you have a ship?”

“Oh, wow, no,” Eddie waves his hands in front of himself, “time out. Absolutely not. Nu hu. No way-”

“Henry has an army. That’s what he’s been doing. He has ships.”

“An army?” Eddie asks, feeling kind of like the air has been knocked out of him at the news. At the implication. It comes out sounding weak, fearful, but Eddie is only just being to grasp what it could mean. “He’s been building Synths?”

El nods, “thousands of them...but they don’t look like us.”

“What do they look like?”

“Monsters.”

Steve and El are sitting on the couch, watching Eddie pace.

“I can’t tell the girls, they’ll want to get involved. I can’t...they might get hurt. We can’t do that.”

“I agree,” Steve says calmly, “and we don’t have to take you, either.”

Eddie stops pacing, rounds on them both, “like hell, it’s my fucking ship.” He starts pacing again, “besides, we need to smuggle you out. Get you past customs and whatever. It’s easier, on the way out, they care less about the shit you might want to take away. You kind of need a human.”

Steve concedes with a nod, and they don’t talk about that any more, at least.

“We should tell the government, or something.”

“They would lock us up again,” El replies, immediately.

Eddie huffs, “yeah but you guys are...telling them something that could like, save the world, surely they have to listen-”

“We can’t ignore the probability that they already know.”

Eddie stops pacing again, “what? No…” but Eddie trails off because...that makes a huge amount of sense doesn’t it. Of course they already know. How could they not know? It makes so much sense. The uprising, the death of every human colonizer on Mars. The end of the terraforming project. Synths continuing to mine the belt...if they’re mining...then they’re building.

They would know everything about Henry, because it was the government that fucking built Henry in the first place. And everyone who would have been alive when the project was happening would be...well, they all would have died of old age fifty fucking years ago, so no help there.

“Well why haven’t the just like, nuked him or something then?”

Steve shrugs again, “it would admit culpability. And create a fear of Synthetics if the truth came out.”

“So??” Eddie chews his nails desperately, “worst case scenario Synths get like, outlawed, or something-”

“Eddie, what percentage of the work force is Synthetic? The richest people in the world would not be willing to give up their lifestyles just because of a possible threat from a different planet.”

Eddie paces in a tight circle, pretty horrified by the obvious logic; the richest people in the world almost certainly own the government too, or at least have some good friends there, considering the amount of taxes those companies seem to dodge with no repercussions whatsoever. “Well, fuck.”

“So you will take us?”

“What the fuck are the three of us going to do against an army of fucking Synths on a different fucking planet?” Eddie knows he’s being a little too loud, so he goes back to pacing a chewing his fingernails off.

“Henry is...arrogant. It will have made him careless.”

“And the new Synths are dormant, waiting.” El tells them, “the original Mars Synths are building them...but they’re basic models. Old, now.”

“You guys are old,” Eddie points out, waving a hand.

Steve stands, getting up and moving to block Eddie’s path. He takes Eddie’s hand away from his mouth, cradling it gently. Steve’s hand is warm, human. “There are no Synths like us Eddie, you know that. Nothing like us has ever been built, not before or since. We are the only ones left. Us and Henry. We have to do this. Only we can do this.”

“Oh this is such a bad idea,” Eddie breathes out quietly.

The ship has been fixed up, refueled. Eddie stares down at what he owes, looking, specifically at the labor cost for the airlock repair.

God damn rip off is what that is.

Eddie is very aware of the fact that he might be dead in less than a month, “what can you guys do for like, delayed payment? Or like, a payment plan?” Because fuck these guys, you can’t get cash out of a corpse.

Eddie sits with his head in his hands. It’s been a long time since he’s done this; Chrissy is his pilot. Turns out it all just came back to him, the second he sat in this seat. And now he’s waiting, waiting for the flashing comms light. A small, guilty part of Eddie hopes they get caught, and he won’t have to go through with this.

The light flashes, “clear for departure,” the bored sounding woman tells him.

Eddie remembers to close the channel before he swears up a storm.

“Uhm, here,” Eddie tells El, you can have this room.

She blinks at Chrissy’s unmade nest of a bed, “what for?”

“Just in case you…” well she doesn’t fucking sleep, does she? “want some privacy?” Eddie tries, before he scuttles away.

Eddie peels the foil off the steaming tray, sitting in the cockpit to eat, since he’s the only one on board who does that now. Eat.

The little compartments of vegetables and unidentified meat in semi congealed sauce look even more sad than usual, and Eddie stares at the blinking light he’s been ignoring for a day and a half now.

Once the mostly empty tray is discarded, Eddie hits the overhead lights, and sits in the dark. He watches the stars, and doesn’t look at the blinking red light.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when Steve appears with a coffee for him, “thank you.”

It’s shit coffee, but you get used to it. Then you go to Earth, and you drink the good stuff for a few days or a week, and then you’re not used to it any more. Tastes like disappointment for the first fortnight or so, at least.

“Are you going to listen to it?”

Eddie shakes his head, “I can’t reply, can’t risk it being picked up by someone else, it’s not secure, like short range. I don’t want to lie to them.”

Steve nods, like that’s sensible, “you could still listen.”

Eddie rubs his knuckles at the middle of his chest, trying to will away the ache, “no, I can’t.”

Steve sits next to him then, not saying anything else, just solace in the face of all those stars. After what feels like a really long time, Steve speaks again, “you’ll answer it, right before we get there.”

It’s not a question, but Eddie nods anyway.

Eddie can’t do jack shit in the face of a Synth. He’s less than an insect to them, physically. He has a weapon, but realistically even that’s no good if his target can move faster than he can track. At best he’s their get away driver, at worst he will be a sacrificial distraction.

“El will stay on the ship, with you.”

Eddie takes a breath, because although she looks, for all intents and purposes, like a little kid, that does make him feel better, “okay, you going to do your trick with the, you know,” Eddie vaguely mimes pulling something across his eyes.

She nods, “I will help Steve as much as I can.”

“You’ll drop me off, you can safely lower to around forty meters, I’ll be fine from that height at Mars gravity, and El can work from a low orbit. First sign of trouble, you guys get out of there.”

“We’re not going to just leave you-” Eddie starts to protest.

“You will if you have to,” Steve says, and he brooks no argument about it.

“Did you do something? You look different?” Eddie idly tinkers, watching Steve play some sort of Mahjong solitaire type thing with the girls tiles.

“I washed the jump suit last night.” Steve tells him, and yeah. Steve hasn’t changed his clothes since Eddie handed them to him a few weeks ago. But synths don’t sweat or anything like that, and Steve doesn’t have those usual opportunities to drop food down himself that humans have, so there’s been no real need for him to change.

Eddie feels kind of bad, “should have gotten you some actual clothes while we were on Earth.”

“We were a bit busy for that Ed’s,” Steve smiles softly at him. Kind. Full of fondness.

Eventually, Eddie makes himself look away, blush warming his cheeks, but he can still feel Steve watching him.

There’s no fucking chance Eddie’s going to get any sleep. He’s tried. He’s taken his bedding with him, the ship turning chilly through lack of power.

He lies in the cockpit, lights off, seat reclined all the way, the whole ship running dark. It’ll be enough to keep them hidden. In Eddie’s peripheral vision, the message light still flashes dully.

Mars is just visible if Eddie squints.

Close enough to make him nervous. He’s going to get closer to Mars than any human has for a century, more or less.

Only the hushed whisper of the material of Steve’s jump suit gives him away. He makes just enough noise so as to not startle Eddie by just appearing.

“How is she?”

“She’s okay I think, I’ve told her not to do any more today. All of Henry’s monsters are still dormant...she thinks she has a plan.”

“Yeah?”

“She thinks she might be able to wake some of them up, take control. She’s going to try, anyway.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a little while, the ship moving basically on inertia alone now, and the stars don’t really look like they’re moving. It feels unnaturally quiet to Eddie, who has lived for months and years by the hum of the engine.

“Are you going to answer?” Steve finally asks.

“Nah,” and it isn’t like Eddie hasn’t given it plenty of thought, “what the hell could I even say?”

Eddie finally turns, looking at Steve. He’s closer than Eddie thought he would be, having turned the co pilot seat as far as it will go, hunched up with his elbows on his knees, “you can answer them tomorrow, when it’s over,” his voice is whisper soft, but confident.

“Yeah,” Eddie swallows thickly, looking back up at the stars, and tries not to let the fear swallow him.

“I’ve...remembered some more things,” Steve’s voice still low, close by in the quiet dark.

Eddie looks back at him again, hair rustling against the seat, he tugs his blanket up higher, cocooning himself where he’s curled up, “yeah?”

Steve moves cautiously, slow, giving Eddie plenty of time to move away. Steve’s thumb is warm when it presses against the fullest part of Eddie’s lower lip, “yeah.”

Eddie’s tongue pokes out, a cautious touch; Steve doesn’t taste human. He feels human, but he doesn’t have the subtle taste that skin carries with it.

When Steve leans close, Eddie lifts his head a little to meet him. The kiss is soft, gentle. Just a touch to begin with. A soft exploration, a quiet hello.

It turns hungry quickly, Eddie shifting up and letting the covers fall away again, desperately ignoring the chill of the air as it sinks into his clothes. Eddie is half sitting, drags himself closer with fingers tangled in the orange material of Steve’s clothes, pulling fiercely, frantically.

Steve moves easily, half standing out of the chair to hover over Eddie. When Steve easily scoops Eddie up, Eddie goes with it, Steve taking his place smoothly in the reclined pilots chair, it creaks with the added weight of Steve. Eddie grips Steve tighter, not wanting to break the kiss despite the way he’s being manhandled and deposited easily, lying on top of Steve.

“Wait,” Steve speaks in between biting kisses, “wait it’s cold,” and he snags the blankets up, making sure Eddie is covered over where he’s laying over Steve. Eddie’s fingers feel clumsy, trying to work the poppers and zipper to get at Steve’s skin. It’s awkward in the tight confines of the chair, but Steve is just, so strong, he easily manages to take Eddie’s weight and wriggle the material down, the back of his jump suit is caught under his ass, but between them they work it low enough to get his dick out, all the while Eddie making whiny, wanting noises against Steve’s lips.

Steve never breaks the kiss, not for any reason; Steve doesn’t need to breathe.

Steve’s hard and, of course, perfect to look at, thick and heavy. Eddie has no idea just how functional Steve was built, “can you come?” he asks, a little breathless from struggling now to get his own pants off. They should have just stood up and done this, but at least Eddie is still warm. He doesn’t bother trying to strip his shirts off, and when the poppers on the ankle cuff catch he gives up on that too, leaving one leg of his pants dangling from the side of the chair and onto the floor.

“Yeah,” Eddie gives up with his clothes, popping up from under the blanket to kiss Steve again, Steve’s cock long and hot pressing next to Eddie’s, “you can just get inside me, if you want.”

Eddie reaches between them, giving Steve’s cock a squeeze. Steve’s eyes, for a split second, flicker white and back again, “I wanted you in me.”

“Okay. Okay yeah,” Steve’s hand is brushing Eddie’s off, the head of his dick suddenly leaking fucking profusely.

“That works,” Eddie’s already shifting, struggling to wedge his knees up around Steve’s hips, movements sharp and jerky with desperation, Steve’s fingers dripping wet from his cock and he shoves his hand between Eddie’s spread thighs.

They should probably talk about this. Eddie should probably say more than he has. He doesn’t, the need inside him overriding sensible thought. Steve’s hands are smooth and firm and he understands Eddie’s urgency perfectly, easily sliding in one finger, slicking Eddie good, and then following it with another almost immediately.

Eddie’s knees are wedged either side of Steve’s hips, his forearms resting on Steve’s chest so he can grip at Steve’s shoulders, cup the side of Steve’s neck, run a hand into Steve's perfect hair and tug harsh. Steve’s head moves with it, head tilted back, Eddie taking the opportunity to bite along Steve’s perfect, smooth jaw, feeling frantic with it now. Eddie can’t help but do his best to rut his cock against Steve, made difficult since he can’t spread his legs he ends up humping air half the time, until Steve grips his hip with a firm hand and holds him still.

Forces him to be still.

The third finger follows immediately after, feeling like it knocks the air out of Eddie’s lungs.

“Too much?”

“No,” Eddie insists, kissing his way back to Steve's mouth, “don’t stop.” Steve takes him at his word, and Eddie knows it hasn’t been enough before he insists, “in me. Please, now. Please Steve.”

“I don’t want to hurt you-”

“You’re so wet, you won’t, you won’t, please, need you.” And Eddie does. Needs to be filled with a burning ache, needs to have Steve close, replace his fear with something else.

Steve pulls his fingers free, guiding Eddie down with the hand resting tight on Eddie’s hip, the head of Steve’s cock breaches Eddie with stinging pressure, but Eddie feels empty, so empty, and he’s desperate to be filled. Steve’s leaking enough that Eddie starts to slip down almost immediately. Steve’s thick and wet and perfect, and Eddie burns to have him inside.

He takes Steve a little too fast, but Steve doesn’t stop him, the pain is delicious, the sting soon soothed by Steve’s fluids.

Steve holds him still, despite Eddie’s best efforts to shift, to move, to somehow ease the feeling of Steve taking up too much space inside him.

Steve holds him still. Forces him to feel it. Bites at Eddie’s lips, licking away the sting of it.

“Steve,” Eddie whines, pants against Steve’s lips, hands clawing at Steve's shoulders, he can’t think past the feeling of being fucking impaled, breath coming short, “Steve please, I need-”

“Not yet,” Steve shushes him, the grip on Eddie’s hip like a vice, like steel, Steve’s hand reaching between them, running fingers through the wet and sticky mess he’d left on his own stomach, before reaching further to grasp Eddie’s cock.

Steve might be underneath, but Eddie is completely pinned, ass forced tight into the cradle of Steve’s hips.

Steve starts to work him, but still won’t let him move. Eddie’s probably going to give himself bruises fighting against Steve’s grip, but the sting is grounding and feeds Eddie’s overwhelmed senses and Eddie can’t help but lean into the touch. He’s desperate, wants to buck his hips into the sensation of being filled, the tight grip Steve has on his cock.

Eddie whines, and Steve just swallows the noise down, Eddie’s eyes screwed tight shut as Steve starts to work him in earnest, firm strokes, and all Eddie’s body can do is clench down hard on the fierce intrusion that Steve is inside him.

Steve works him harder yet, hand jacking Eddie mercilessly, Eddie breaking away with a cry, back arching, muscles fighting to thrust, thighs desperate to pull together as Steve forces Eddie to the precipice far too fast. All he can do is sit and take it, caught between Steve’s hands, completely filled up with Steve, he can’t writhe to get away, he’s pinned, his body clenching rhythmically down on Steve, asshole fluttering and pulsing as his orgasm builds rapidly, forced to feel all of everything.

Still Steve doesn’t move. Eddie forces his eyes open, blinking down at Steve, Steve’s already watching him in return, eyes greener than Eddie’s ever seen them. It’s too much, the build too fast, Steve jacking him now a touch too fast to be human.

“Steve, Steve I’m gonna’ come, I’m gonna’ come shit I-” It’s dragged out of him almost, forced over the edge violently, Eddie’s body gripping Steve’s so tight he feels it when Steve’s cock kicks inside him, pulses. Pulses really fucking noticeably, the rhythmic orgasmic clenching of Eddie’s asshole dripping with bursts of Steve’s synthetic come. “Shit, Steve, Jesus fuck-”

Steve drags him back down, pulls Eddie in for a kiss even as Eddie is still making a mess of them both, last spurts of come dribbling weakly out onto Steve’s fingers.

Eddie ends up lying in it, pulled down flush to Steve’s chest, Steve's softening cock slipping free with a gush of wet, Eddie’s asshole continuing to drool long after.

Eddie’s heartbeat finally slows, his ragged breathing softens, Steve gentling Eddie with soothing touches.

Eddie didn’t realize he was nodding off; tired enough that sleep was taking him quickly, but he jerks awake when Steve shifts, carrying Eddie and all his bedding back to his bunk, one pants leg still hanging off his ankle, “stay?”

Steve doesn’t answer, not really, but he kisses Eddie’s curls and tells him, “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

It’s easy to spot the place where Henry must be. The reddish surface of Mars is littered with black, creeping cables that curl like dead vines across the rocky ground. They all lead inward, circling a central point that’s thickest with Synth activity. It’s easily visible; the largest cables must be thirty or forty feet across. Eddie suspects the veiny network is much larger and more complex than he can see from here.

Any and all human buildings and supplies seem to have been cannibalized by Henry’s efforts.

“Okay,” Eddie tries to reassure himself, it doesn’t work, “okay.” Eddie slowly starts restarting the ship, bare minimum systems so as not to alert anyone too fast, but realistically he has to bring the engines back up, at this kind of range they’ll be caught by Mars’ weak gravity and end up crashing into the surface.

Eddie flicks the comms panel, and the screens above it, bringing up the airlock. Steve is already standing there, waiting, “ready?” Eddie asks.

Steve turns to look up at the camera, “yes,” he answers, nodding for Eddie’s benefit, before turning back to the airlock.

Eddie turns off the comms, looking over at where El is sitting, legs drawn up criss cross in the co pilot seat. She has her makeshift blindfold on, “super girl, you good?”

“Ready, Eddie.”

Eddie does his best to remember he’s piloting a fucking ship and that should be his focus, “okay,” he takes a deep breath, “this is all totally fine.” Once they’re low enough, Eddie deactivates the airlock door, and forces himself to watch as Steve opens it, then clings to the outside of the door, pushing off to push it closed behind him.

The light above the door flashes as the locks re-engage, and Eddie’s stomach feels like it’s trying to crawl up his throat.

“Steve’s out.”

El doesn’t respond. It was probably redundant; she already knows.

It’s quiet. Just the hum of the ship. Eddie can’t see a single thing going on beneath them, just Mars' strange horizon, nothing looks any different.

There’s a thud, it echoes along the empty corridor, and it’s quiet enough that Eddie eventually dismisses it.

Until it happens again.

“Eddie,” there’s green coolant dripping from El’s nose, “Henry’s waking them, there’s too many,” the arm rests of the chair groan and creek under her grip.

The noise startles Eddie half standing; a solid thud. Something that looks like a giant fucking monster bat just flung itself at the cockpit window.

“What do you need?” Eddie turns the ship, twisting sharply away from the cloud of creatures coming for them from the surface.

“I need to get closer.”

“Oh this is going to suck,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, even as he angles the ship down.

There’s hundreds of them, huge leathery looking wings and long articulated tails. They batter the hull as Eddie crashes the ship through them, sounding like the worst hail storm Eddie’s ever heard.

He prays he’s killing them.

Panic rises as more of them latch to the front of the ship, round mouths full of metal teeth banging on the glass, wings obscuring the outside, Eddie’s equipment showing a snowstorm of static and interference, “I can’t see. Can’t land if I can’t see.”

Except, he can land, he knows it, it’ll just be a really fucking bad landing. And he’s close already, they were hovering low, Eddie pulls up on instinct.

El stands, dragging the towel off her face, shards of material dropping away, she roars in effort, flinging her arm out, the windscreen clears of all the creatures, all flung off to the side, moved by an invisible force.

Eddie has a second to react to the freshly cleared view, making a sharp turn, the ships hull scraping along the side of one of those huge cables, an agonizing shrieking of metal on metal feeling like it goes on forever and yet ends almost before it begun, before the ship finally comes to rest in a gully created by two monster cables.

The sudden silence is oppressive, Eddie’s breathing by far the loudest thing over the odd plinking sound of cooling metal and cycling down engines.

Eddie’s voice sounds funny in his own ears when he finally has the wherewithal to ask, “you okay?”

El blinks, wide eyed, she looks as stunned as Eddie. Just like a kid, and she really is a kid, in some ways. But she pulls herself together faster than Eddie does, “I need to get outside.”

It feels like a bad idea, but they’re past the point of no return now. Eddie just nods, hands shaking so badly it takes him two tries to get into the weapons cache. It won’t do him any good, but he feels better for having it.

The outer airlock door is fucked again; of course it is. It gives just fine when El leans against it. Eddie’s panicked breathing is fogging up his helmet, and he desperately tries to slow himself, counting in his head as he looks around. He holds his weapon closer; safety deactivated before Eddie pulled on his gloves.

The sky is a strange reddish pink that distracts Eddie for all of a moment, and then he’s chasing after El as she marches off with no hesitation. Eddie immediately falls behind, stumbling as he leaves the ships artificial gravity. It doesn’t seem to bother El, but Eddie’s steps are suddenly almost bouncy with the lower gravity. It takes Eddie a few seconds to orientate himself to follow her.

She finds a likely spot on the nearest cable, all of the black coated in a fine layer of red dust. She doesn’t hesitate to drive both hands through the cabling wall.

Eddie lets her do her thing, looking back at the ship, she’s dinged up but looks okay, a bat corpse drops off the hull, landing with a dull thud in the dust.

Eddie raises his weapon, looking around warily; the sky is clear. All Eddie can hear is his own breathing and the dull thrum of whatever power it is that’s passing through the cables. Eddie’s sure he can feel it vibrating through the ground under him.

The chittering noise starts quietly, but Eddie looks up. Bats. A fucking lot of bats, “uh. El. Kind of have incoming.”

“I can stop them,” she frowns, Eddie backing up as much as he can to keep El and the cloud of bats in line of sight, side pressed against the black material.

“Uh hu. You sure? You better be sure?”

“Eddie.”

“Right, right yeah,” the nearest of the bats are close enough now that Eddie can clearly pick out the individuals, and he raises his weapon again, “El…”

As one, the whole cloud of them banks away, moving along the path of the cables.

Eddie breathes out a quiet, “holy shit.”

“I’ve found Steve. And Henry.”

Eddie has never, not once, felt more useless in his entire life. So helpless. All he can do is stand here and wait.

The boom is loud enough that a shock wave travels ahead of it. A cloud of dust and sand lifted and billowed out in a wave that batters and coats everything in it’s path. Eddie covers El with his body as best as he can, she has her eyes squeezed shut in concentration anyway. It takes minutes for the dust to settle from the air, the sound so loud Eddie feels like his ears are actually ringing, his brain shaken around in his head.

Eddie has to resist the urge to brush the dust out of her peach fuzz hair, but he can’t disturb her from where she’s elbow deep. There’s a faint blue glow beginning to shine around her forearms from where she’s entrenched in the cabling.

Eddie keeps her at his back, sheltered in case it happens again.

In Eddie’s peripheral vision; something moves.

A little red dust falls from it’s white skin as it stands. It’s tall, only vaguely humanoid shaped; skinny, and it doesn’t seem to have a face.

Eddie lifts his weapon, “El,” he whispers, but this time he gets no answer.

The thing tilts it’s head, then it twitches sharply. Damaged, Eddie guesses. It happens slowly, but place where it’s face should be opens up, petals peeling apart, dripping yellow black fluid from row upon row of curved metal teeth.

“Come on El,” Eddie tries again, but still, no response.

More red dust falls from the thing as it moves closer. The red dust sticks thickly to the things leg, mixing with something that’s leaking out, it’s definitely damaged, head twitching again, out of the things control. It charges, moving slow for a Synth, Eddie’s weapon firing reflexively, the thing twitching with the hit, a smoking black smear left on it’s shoulder. Eddie twists away on instinct, getting the danger away from El, the Synth suddenly moving faster than Eddie can track, he fires blindly. The Synth crashes into Eddie, and they both go down, Eddie can feel it when something in his chest cracks at the impact.

His weapon caught between them, Eddie pulls the trigger, the monsters wide open face dripping crap all over Eddie’s breathing mask.

The heat between them is beyond pain, but Eddie doesn’t take his finger off the trigger, the weapon whining as it fires repeatedly, Eddie’s mask scratched and then cracking as the thing bites at him, long clawed fingers slicing into the flesh of Eddie’s arms and shoulders.

Eddie doesn’t have the air to scream, the thing on him is so heavy, the burn from firing the weapon point blank searing Eddie’s skin.

The creature on top of Eddie suddenly seizes, becomes even more of a dead weight, and it takes several seconds for Eddie to realize he can stop, and takes his finger off the trigger.

Eddie lies there, panting. Pinned by the creature, he can’t get a full breath in, and he can’t see through the mess of his mask. He can taste chemicals and burning in the air where his cracked face cover must be leaking. He can’t feel his hands, the burning pain across his stomach is all consuming.

It’s all Eddie can do to wriggle, screaming with the pain and effort, twisting sideways just enough that the thing slides off him, and Eddie can just wriggle out from beneath it.

Eddie’s gasping now, short on air, he wipes his bare hand across his mask, smearing the goop and shit but making just so he can see movement, the outline of something coming for him, blurry and indistinct as Eddie’s vision fades.

It uses the last of Eddie’s energy when he raises his weapon.

Eddie’s eyes are gummy and his mouth is dry and shitty feeling, but Eddie’s pretty sure that means he’s not dead.

Yet.

He might be in a minute, if the searing pain is anything to go by. Eddie tries to get away from it on instinct, twisting sideways in pain fueled panic before strong hands press him back. “Hurts,” Eddie manages to whimper.

“I know, I got you,” Steve’s voice answers. The pain recedes, and Eddie floats off to a place that is half awake and half asleep. He’s pretty sure he can hear himself snoring, but he feels pretty out of it and it’s easy to dismiss.

El is there, the next time Eddie blinks awake, peering down at him, “hello Eddie.”

“Hi,” Eddie croaks, immediately relieved that he’s in very familiar surroundings. He can’t hear the engines, but years and years of familiarity tells him that they’re running fine. He can feel it in his bones.

El is passing him a coffee mug of water, keeping hold of it for him so he’s not fully responsible, guiding the straw around with her free hand.

After sloshing some around his mouth and taking several long pulls, Eddie feels better. “Does this mean we won?”

“Yes, I am sorry you got hurt. There were too many.”

“That’s okay super girl, I know you were doing your best. You helped Steve though right? Henry’s dead, so you saved the whole world.”

“Yes,” she smiles, but it’s sad. She has a look on her face that’s far too knowing, far too worn for the young face it’s on.

“I...he must have been your friend once, right?” And despite how fluffy Eddie’s head feels with the painkillers, it’s not until now, with that look on El’s face, that Eddie makes that connection.

“He was my brother. Steve says the...things that were wrong with Henry, they weren't all his fault. It wasn’t his fault he was built.”

She’s looking at him expectantly, waiting for Eddie to throw his hat in the ring. Doesn’t feel fair to have this kind of pressure on him within minutes of waking up, “yeah, I think Steve’s probably right. Regular plain old people are good or bad, too.”

She nods, clearly absorbing that, “I’m going to try and be good,” she says, child like and earnest again.

“Yeah. You and me both, super girl.”

Eddie’s picking at the bandages when Steve walks in, “I wouldn’t.”

“Is it bad?”

“In places,” Steve hedges, taking El’s empty seat.

He goes to take Eddie’s hand, then stalls out, like he’s not welcome. Eddie drops the edge of the bandage, laying his hand on the covers instead, palm up and open in invitation. Steve watches him for a long time, but whatever he sees in Eddie’s face means he’s linking their fingers together a moment later.

“So uhm...what happens now?”

Steve shrugs, “I have Henry’s remains-”

“On my fucking ship-!”

Steve shushes him, squeezing his hand, “what’s left of Henry’s remains. I’ve been salvaging some of his memories.”

Well that’s only vaguely terrifying, “put him out the airlock the second you’re done.”

“I will, but I need to keep El safe. His memories are...proof.”

Eddie tips his head, looking at Steve though slitted eyes, “you mean insurance?”

Steve smiles, “that too.”

“And...blackmail material?”

“Just a tiny bit.”

“Ohhhh,” Eddie nods, grinning at Steve’s mock innocence, “just a tiny bit.”

Steve shrugs, “might get us some identification. Get us left alone, at least.”

“Does that mean,” Eddie flinches as he sits himself up a little better, stomach muscles pulling and burning, “that you guys are going to be looking for work? Might have an opening.”

“Maybe,” Steve smiles again.

Eddie had insisted that he could fucking walk himself, thank you very much. Turned out pretty fast that he couldn’t, like, at all. His collar bone is broken, and the pain is sharp at the strangest times.

Steve carries him through the ship, wrapped safe in a blanket. When Steve sits him in the pilots chair, Eddie feels himself blushing at the memory. Steve smirks at him, before telling him, “when you’re better,” voice prim.

And then Steve leaves Eddie alone with the flashing comms button. Eddie doesn’t bother to listen to it. Eddie takes a moment, centers himself, before flicking a switch to start recording his own message instead, “ladies! Settle yourselves in for an epic tale of heroic derring-do...”

[mixingandmelting]

If you haven't already, can I request a scenario with the Task Force members 141 reacting to their s/o referring to them as their husband? Like, they could be on a date together and when someone comes over to talk to them, their s/o would casually refer to their partner as their husband. And the members have to do a double take because there's no way in hell they heard them being referred to as such

I think it'd be funny but cute simultaneously

John Price:

Everything that happens during his double-take takes place behind the glass he drinks out of. Eyes widening then snapping towards you as he pauses from the sip he’s taking for a second. And you nor the other person doesn’t realize it.

“What? There’s no way you’re taken. You don’t even have a ring-”

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite.” He wraps an arm around your waist, shuffling closer to you. “My significant other is very much taken and we’re happily married.” 

Just like that, the guy leaves without starting a fuss though the two of you don't take your eyes off him until he’s actually gone and away from the bar counter. 

“So, husband?” 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to put you on spot-” Your quick to turn around, voice guilt ridden until you notice the expression he’s wearing. “Er-Well…”

His heart melts at the sight of your flush going further down, past your shoulders while you try to distract yourself. You love him where you’re subconsciously thinking of him as your husband. You think of him as your husband. 

Smile full of warmth, eyes matching it with adoration, he presses a kiss on your temple and tangles his fingers with yours while you’re nuzzling your burning face into his shoulder. He does make note on the diameter for your ring finger, after all he tends to make it his mission to make your wishes come true while having also been on a window shopping adventure for a ring to get you. 

Johnny “Soap” Mactavish:

His ears perk up, the term you called him heard clearly and echoing inside his head. 

“Husband?” 

If anything, rather than disappearing, his smile continues to grow impossibly bigger at the exasperation you let out as you realize your slip up. 

“Johnny, please. Don’t--“ 

“Don’t what? Say I’m your husband?” 

Wrapping his arms around you, he easily lifts you up and places you on his lap, chuckling when you yelp and warn him you still have food in your hands. Not that it matters, his eyes flickering between you and the other person I.e., your friend he’s meeting for the first time, making sure he wasn’t the only one to hear what you called him. 

“Well, you called him your husband.” Instantly that earns your friend a stink eye from you and complaints how you have no one on your side.

As for him, his chest is about to burst, the fuzzies and warmth of the love you have for him spreading all over his body.  It makes him giddy and want to kick his feet like a kid, just so damn happy he’s not boyfriend, he’s husband. Your husband. 

The rest of the time is spent with you stuck on his lap because he refuses to let you go. No matter how much you tap his forearm, tug at him, he’d whine how your hurting your husband’s heart. He also ends up becoming besties with your friend who joins in and acts as his wingman much to his delight and your disappointment. 

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

The drink goes down the wrong way and he starts coughing. 

“Kyle? Kyle? You okay?” 

No, he’s not. Absolutely not. His heart is racing, his pulse is pounding. He’s really, really hoping his face is not flushing. 

You patting his back makes matters worse, him suddenly hyper aware of you and your existence. The same hyper awareness he went through when he first realized his love for you was more than mutual. 

It was an accident while you gave the waiter his and your order. A fumble. Yet, in as much as he knows it was- 

“H-husband?” 

He swears, it’s because he can hear his voice still sound scratchy that led to him to stutter and clear his throat. Not from shyness or being bashful. 

Though, it didn’t seem like it mattered. Your lips in the shape of a small “o” with your face fairing no better than his when he turns and looks at you. 

For the longest moment, the two of you struggle to hold a normal conversation with you struggling to form a sentence while he tries to assuage you that it’s fine at the same time.

Food appears and a few bites in he and you are able to speak somewhat coherently.

“I,er, it was a passing thought. What it would be like with you being my husband...” 

“I’m your husband,” was his smart reply, stating matter-factly than a question. 

Needless to say, you both didn't let go of each other's hand when walking out afterwards nor did the matching dopey smiles disappear. 

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

“Ghost”.exe stops working, a hand with the glass in the air except he’s not drinking out of it. 

Husband. You called him husband. And not any husband, your husband. Loud and enunciated that it leaves no room for any misunderstandings or mishearing. 

“He’s your husband? Him?” 

“Yeah, my husband!” Blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, he tenses when you wrap an arm around his and pull it closer to you. Tensing because he’s trying to hold back from squishing you, smother you in affection. But it’s not helping when you’re being so fucking cute- 

“Pfft. Yeah? It doesn’t seem like he thinks that way-“ 

“You got a problem with it, mate?” 

He doesn’t need to say anything else, the girl quickly turning around and leaving with her tail between her legs. He assumes you’re keeping your hold on him in case she comes back. Until he looks down and catches the sight of your neck a dusty pink. 

He’s about to say something until you suddenly jump out of your seat and let go of him.

“I’ll be right back.” You further confirm his suspicions, seeing your ears hold the same hue as you head towards the restroom. 

“Didn’t think you’d like being a hubby.” 

“Shut it, Johnny.” There’s no bite in his words, the corner of his lips twitching. 

Catching this, the rest of task 141 take turns making jabs at him, all which he has no choice but to endure as he grunts it’s husband not hubby. 

[m-jelly]

More silver fox Levi and his wife 🌚

You silver fox, you.

Levi x fem reader

Modern AU, married life, CEO Levi, fluff, romance, suggestive themes, date day, your kids are in uni.

After recently dropping your youngest kid off at university, Levi and you are alone again without five kids running around the house. Levi decides to go all out with his dates and romancing him. His hunger for you is unending and it's fun to act a bit young again. Collection of fun dates and holidays you go on.

"Yes, your father is treating me well. He keeps taking me on random adventures." You smiled at your eldest on the phone.

It felt weird that all five of your kids were at university and your eldest was now working. You missed having the kids home and all of them missed you and Levi. They'd come home during the holidays, or when they had the time. They'd call you both almost daily, but Levi had informed them that he would spoil you for a few weeks.

Your daughter giggled. "Dad's a wild one." She gasped. "Speaking of dad, where is he?"

You flipped the camera to show you were on the beach and Levi was walking over after going to the restroom. You couldn't believe how unbelievably sexy your husband was. He was lightly tanned from years of adventures with you. He still had muscle for days, but a bit plump to him from being in a happy relationship and marriage. The undercut of his raven hair was spotted with grey and the top part had some strips of grey that merged so beautifully with his raven hair.

You released a long sigh. "So handsome."

Your daughter laughed. "Chill, mum. Yo Dad! Hi!"

Levi jogged over making his muscles bounce and sending pleasure through you. "Hey, sweetheart." He took your phone. "How are you? job okay?"

"It's great! I took all your advice and I'm killing it! Pays to have a top CEO as your Dad. You're a fountain of knowledge."

You relaxed a little as the two talked for a bit. You smiled when Levi handed your phone over. You said goodbye to your eldest and ended the call. "I bet the others will call soon."

"Likely." He ran his hand up the inside of your thigh. "For now though, it's just you and me." He leaned over and kissed you. "Mm, you taste so sweet."

"Thank you." You hummed a laugh as he began biting and sucking your neck. "Levi, we're in public."

"Hasn't stopped us before."

You moaned as he rolled onto you. "I know, but I'm not as good-looking anymore."

Levi stopped kissing you and pulled back. He stared down at you with a glare. "Take that back."

"Levi."

"Don't Levi me. Take. It. Back."

You laughed as he began tickling you. "Darling!"

He huffed. "Take it back! You're sexy! You're hot!"

You wriggled under him. "Sorry! Sorry! You're right."

He pinned your arms by the side of your head. "Good."

You licked your lips as you eyed him. "Speaking of sexy." You winked at him. "Hey."

He chuckled. "Hey." He pressed his body against yours and began kissing you passionately.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Levi pulled back and looked over at the waiter. "Tch, what?"

"You uh...you can't...you know." He cleared his throat as he blushed. "In public."

You pulled your hand free and patted Levi's cheek. "Down boy." You smiled at the man. "Sorry, we'll behave!"

Levi sat up, pouted a bit and huffed. "Fine."

You sat up and massaged his thighs. "You're cute when you're grumpy."

He locked eyes with you. "This just means later I will ravage you."

You squeezed his thighs. "Good."

You lay in your husband's arms as the boat gently rocked. You took his hand and admired it in front of you, his skin still so perfect with barely any signs of age. You pulled his hand closer and bit it.

Levi chuckled. "Still like biting me, huh?"

"Yes."

He released a long sigh. "You're so fucking beautiful and fun."

You hummed a laugh. "Thank you. You still love me after all these years?"

"Fuck, yes. You know it." He bit your ear. "I can't keep my hands to myself with you."

You giggled as he pushed his hand under your top and began feeling you up. "You're a perv still."

"I've just become more bold with my actions with age."

"True." You stretched and hummed. "I wonder if the kids are okay."

"They're just fine. They're always fine."

You turned in his arms and sat sideways on his lap. "I know they're grown up and strong kids, but I just worry about them."

"I know. I worry too, but if they weren't okay they'd tell us." He kissed your cheek. "They're not our little babies anymore. All five of them have grown up and will give us grandkids in a few years."

You whined. "Our babies having babies."

Levi gave you a squeeze. "From MILF to GILF."

You backhanded Levi's pec. "Dirty man."

"It's true. You're very sexy and pretty."

You cupped his face and wiggled. Levi looked younger than he was, he always did, but he had the cutest wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from smiling and laughing all the years he was with you. You admired his darkly handsome beauty. You eyed his lips a moment before running your thumb over his bottom lip.

Levi licked your thumb. "What you thinking about?"

"Kissing you."

He smiled. "Don't think about it, just do it."

You crashed your lips against his and hummed. "Love you."

"Love you always."

You walked through your holiday home texting your kids and letting them know your holiday with Levi was going perfectly, you missed them all and then you shared pictures with them. Just as you entered the living space, you were tackled into a hug by Levi.

You laughed as he spun around with you. "Hello, handsome."

He moved you in his arms and held you like a bride. "Hi, my love."

"What are you up to this time?"

He hummed. "I wonder."

You pocked his cheek. "You're so adorable."

He carried you along until he reached the dining room. "I sent the staff home and made you dinner." He placed you on your feet. "Three courses. You and me." He held you close and began slow dancing with you. "You deserve the world."

"You spoil me too much."

"I want to do everything possible for you." He dropped you. "It brings me joy."

You hummed a laugh. "You are a joy, my darling."

He twirled with you until he reached the dinner table. "What do you think?"

You admired the candles, flowers, champagne and food. "It's incredible."

Levi hugged you from behind. "I took inspiration from our second date together."

You rubbed your hands on Levi's arms. "Feels like yesterday, but we've had so many years together. I have wrinkles and stretchmarks and you're perfect."

Levi playfully and aggressively attacked your neck with kisses. "I love kissing all of your marks. Besides, it's evidence that you have lived a wonderful life so far and you'll have many more to come."

"Damn right." You turned in his arms. "You're not getting rid of me yet."

"I could never get rid of you. I'm obsessed with you." He nuzzled his nose against yours. "If you ever left me, I'd hunt you down and kill the man you fall for and then lock you up in a pretty home."

You giggled. "I know you're not joking about that." You released a long sigh. "I'd never leave you, you know that. We'd be lost without each other."

Levi nodded. "We're what true love it. My soulmate." He kissed you and smiled. "Dinner."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[studiogrimm810]

Happy Birthday

// Est. Dean Winchester x birthday!you

summary: birthdays as a hunters kid have always sucked and let you to hate the celebration of yourself, but dean can’t help but at least try to show you how much he cares // ~700 // base content: birthday celebration!!, mentions of a neglectful childhood :/, happy ending, lovesick dean

A/N: this is for you, elle, happy birthday <3

Plastic bags crinkled as you turned the Impala back into the garage of the bunker. When Dean had asked you to go out, in his car, to get some ‘necessities’, you knew something was up.

Equal parts of you wished and dreaded the same thing.

Your birthday.

It’s stupid, really. Birthdays were a sore subject for any child of a hunter- slice of stale cake from a roadhouse or diner, thrifted gifts of toys or trinkets that went out of style years ago, and a potential guest appearance from your parent. Birthdays were no big deal, seriously.

Dean knew this. He knew your history with shoddy ‘parties’, if you can even call them that, and he wouldn’t throw some elaborate scheme behind your back, right?

You grabbed the bags and got out of the Impala, ignoring how no breath felt like enough, and walked back inside the bunker. It’s quiet.

If it’s a surprise party you swear you’ll turn right back around and leave.

All you can do is remain casual and walk down the hall and turn into the kitchen, so you do. You turn past the door frame and into the kitchen that is mellowly lit with string lights and dotted with fake flowers- replicas of your favorites to match the lush vase of the real thing on the island. There’s a small, handmade banner strung above the stove and a simple, round cake decorated with cherries and red sprinkles. One, single candle is settled in the center and it’s freshly lit by a careful Dean.

He hasn’t even noticed you yet.

There’s a gift on the table next to two fresh plates of that one meal Dean has been mentioning a lot lately and you realize he was trying to gauge if you’d like it or not in subtle conversation.

The bunker is still quiet and Dean pockets the lighter and finally looks up to see you. His face lights up in excitement but his eyes are unsure as you’ve just been standing there- completely still.

“You’re back!” He beams, scoffing nervously and rounding the counter. “I-,” he looked back at his popsicle stick party held with cheap kindergarten glue. It’s simple and effortless but meaningful and so goddamn sweet. “I know you’re not a big ‘birthday’ person,” he looks back at you. “I told Sam to get lost for the day and he doesn’t even know it’s your birthday, I promise. I just couldn’t let another year go by where you thought no one cared enough to put something on for you. Even if you hate it,” he shrugged, his face apologetic but stubbornly careless of what your reaction would be.

You look back over the room, the wax melting onto the cake in a forgetful puddle. You felt stunned and beyond loved.

“It’s vanilla, despite the cherries,” he clarified with a nervous smile. “So..,” he swallowed, flicking his right thumb over his other fingers nervously by his side. “Do you? Hate it, I mean,” his free hand scratches the back of his neck as he anxiously awaits your reaction.

“Dean-,” you start but the words get caught in your throat. As you stand here now, with love displayed physically, emotionally, materialistically, and vocally, you can’t help but think if maybe it wasn’t the birthday’s but instead the person. “I love it,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on the cake. The perfect, simple, small cake that is all for today. For your day. “It’s perfect,” you sniffled, unable to pull your eyes to look at him just yet but you can see the relief flood his face from your peripheral.

After all this time, you finally realized that birthdays aren’t a selfish endeavor for attention and forced love. It’s a day that the ones who love you want you to relish in the life you’ve made and the way you live it.

It’s a celebration of you.

And Dean never wants you to forget that he’d celebrate you every day, just like this, as long as you’ll let him.

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>>check out my other works here

tags: @blossomingorchids @areswasneverhere @bejeweledinterludes @funkenniffler @iamaslytherin0

[yaoi-enthusiasts]

wake me up

cw: sleep sex | oral | cream pie | fingering | squirting | MDNI

Your husband Kento Nanami, a jujutsu sorcerer, that title meant one thing: unpredictable home time. Despite his contract specifying a 6 PM sharp departure, he couldn’t simply leave if he was engrossed in a mission. But tonight was different. He requested a day off, intending to train with the students at the school. “Satoru, I need you to handle the missions tomorrow. I promised my wife I’d be home for dinner,” he grunted to the white-haired man. “Oh Nanami, you just have to ask,” Satoru would pick lightly at the grumpy man,

Knowing your husband was getting off work today at precisely 6 p.m., you felt a surge of excitement. “Finally, I feel like we haven’t seen each other in weeks,” you exclaimed. It had been quite hectic since adding Yuji and Nobara joined the first years, and Megumi was no longer the only one.

“Ken should be home soon,” you thought to yourself. You found yourself checking your phone every five minutes, making sure you didn’t miss a text, a call, or the time. 

6:00 PM

You spent the entire day meticulously preparing for his return home, eager to shower him with a delightful surprise. You diligently cleaned the house, prepared his favorite meal, indulged in a relaxing exfoliation session, shaved, and even went and got your nails done. All day long, you had been yearning for his presence, hoping that he would finally have his eyes solely on you, not on those tedious reports he usually gets stuck doing at midnight. 

This morning, he was unusually affectionate, slowly caressing your thighs, his lips tracing the nape of your neck, and drawing sweet circles at your thighs. His other hand lightly groped your breast, and he was painfully hard, yearning to sheath himself inside you. It wasn’t quite time to get up, which only made him more excited. He had time to pamper you with his love, stuffing his fingers into your heat. Suddenly, his phone started ringing. 

Letting out a frustrated moan, he pulled his soaked fingers out of you, leaving you whimpering. His line of work required him to answer his phone even off duty, which always frustrated you to no end. Grunting as he walked over to his ringing phone, he muttered, “Fuck. Who the hell could be calling me?” He snatched his phone from the dresser and growled, “Fucking Satoru.” He groaned once again. 

“What is it Gojo-San?” Nanami ask begrudgingly, “Nanamiiiiii-“ Satoru says in a shrill

You didn’t hear all that was said, but as soon as the call ended, your husband stood up and kissed your forehead. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he said, “but I have to leave. I promise we’ll finish what we started when I get home.” He smiled faintly.

“Everything okay?” you ask, wrapping the sheets around you as he enters the shower to prepare for another day of slaying curses. A job you despised, but you knew that his office job was suffocating him and devoid of any purpose in his life. 

“Yeah, just some curses. Nothing to be worried about. Satoru is out of town for something last minute, so I have to take the new kid, Yuji Itadori, with me today.” He says while washing his face. You see the bubbles of soap form and sink into his skin, eventually draining down the drain. You look down and see his member hard as a rock, which makes him look frustrated. 

“Are you sure we can’t fix that before you leave?” You smirk, “Don’t tease me, or you’ll regret it later.” He groans, and you watch as he gently strokes it in the shower, knowing he’s about to burst any second. He yearns to bend you over right then and there, but he knows if he does, he’ll be late and won’t be able to stop. And then, there it is, he’s finished all over his hand, and the water washes it off. 

“Could’ve been me,” You moan, “Get out before you tempt me anymore.” He says, looking away from you. You do as he says. You already know how hard working your husband is, you wanted nothing more but to show him how much you appreciate him, how much you admire him, and that he didn’t have to worry about a thing. 

Little did you know that your husband would be working overtime today, and you would be fast asleep by the time he returned home. 

Hubby🩵: Baby I'm running late today, I promise I will be home as soon as I can. I love you. - 6:02PM

As you lay in bed, watching some trashy reality TV, time just seemed to pass quickly, trying to stay awake, you look over at the clock, “Maybe he’ll be home soon, I mean he will have to heat up dinner, shower, eat, he’s going to be exhausted when he gets home,” you thought, eyeing the clock,

11:46PM 

Cuddled up to your husband’s pillow, and the red wine filling your senses, you felt yourself start to doze, your last thought being, how much you wished your husband was lying beside you right now. 

It was 1 in the morning, and Nanami finally made it home. Feeling sluggish and ready to lay in bed next to his wife and feel her warmth, he was thoroughly exhausted from the day. He had been injured, had to do a report, and had to explain to Yuji how this cycle never truly ends. He wasn’t only physically exhausted, but mentally done for. 

“I need to shower.” He mutters to himself. He steps into the guest bathroom, which he usually does after a mission, because he doesn’t want to get your shared bathroom dirty. Washing off his day, feeling his muscles finally loosen up, he stood there what felt like an hour. Tired, so so tired. Finally stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist, pushing his hair back out of his eyes, he heard his phone vibrate against the counter of the bathroom sink,

*Dumb Ass is Calling* “This motherfucker,” Nanami nearly smashed his phone from the grip his hand had. 

“What on earth do you want, Satoru?” Nanami hisses. “Hey, hey, calm down, Nanami-San. I just wanted to express my gratitude for taking Yuuji and taking care of those curses. Please get some rest and some well-deserved ass. Ijichi informed me about your rather grumpy attitude today, not that, it isn’t out of the ordinary for you. I suggest you take the day off tomorrow.” Satoru chuckles to himself, “I had planned on doing that. Now, fuck off.” Nanami hangs up,

His phone beeps, showing that he received a text message,

Satoru Gojo: YOUR WELCOME, have fun😼

Nanami: 🖕🏻

Satoru Gojo: 🫶🏻

He finally turns off his phone, holding onto the towel around his waist, and walks out of the restroom down the hall to your shared bedroom. He knows you’re asleep; there’s no way you stayed up this late for him. As he walks in, his eyes find your bottom half is covered by the blankets, while your top half is completely nude, and you’re sprawled out, star fishing like you do every night. Usually, you’re star fishing on him. 

“Fuck, where are your clothes?” he mutters, his erection growing. He climbs into bed, leaning in to kiss your lips, then your cheek, and finally your neck. “I can’t do this while she’s sleeping,” he groans, god was he unbelievably hard.

You had always told him how you would love to wake up to him in between your legs, but Nanami was always so gentle with you, never wanting you to be shaken by such a scene, which you loved about him, he was so respectful to you, and treasured your body, but you sometimes just wanted him to take charge and do something that wasn’t so good boy behavior. Recalling the conversation as he stroked himself next to you, “Damn it.” He says to himself, taking the blanket off your body.

Seeing your white laced panties, he was surprised his cock hadn’t bust from the scene alone, his cheeks red, he felt like a college student who had sex for the first time. “Such a pretty little thing aren’t you?” He whispers in the crook of your neck, climbing on top of you, placing kisses down your neck, going down to your breast, lapping his tongue around your nipples, blowing on them to make them hard, he placed his teeth in between your nipple, slightly biting it, he pulled a moan out of you, your dreaming form was falling apart, and he had barely done anything yet. 

“Mmm dreaming about me baby? You should wake up so you can catch the live action.” He says swirling his tongue around your areola. He craved for much more, bringing himself down to your heat, he was slow in his movements, sliding your panties down swiftly, he was desperate to get a deeper taste, “If you knew how much I’ve craved to taste you all day,” He says as he began opening your folds with his fingers, gently placing his tongue on your clit immediately. 

He knew your body more than you did, and he definitely knew where you liked it the most. He quickened the pace of his tongue, sucking on your clit, your sweet moans filled the room despite you still being asleep. He doesn’t stop, wanting to taste your nectar all over his tongue. He starts to rub his index and middle finger on your clit, rubbing it up and down quickly, as his tongue dips into your hole, tasting you deeper. Your eyes start to flutter open, and you’re moaning more now, seeing your husband in between your legs. “Ken-kento. What are you- what- ugh yes.” You try to ask what he’s doing, but he has no desire to respond back to you, and you have no desire to care, his only desire is to make you cum over and over until you have melted into him, and your only desire was to cum over and over. 

That knot in your stomach was progressively getting tighter as you felt him suck and finger your gummy walls, before you could tell him you were close, you felt the dam break, and you gushed around his fingers, and finishing all on his tongue, as he flicks his tongue up, tasting every drop coming out. 

“Ffffuuuuucccckkkkkkk” you groan bucking your hips up, practically humping into his face. “Yes baby just like that.” He says, still rubbing your clit, and abusing your hole with his tongue. He had one of your legs pinned down with his free hand, and the other one, was pinned down by his elbow, as he was still flicking your clit with his relentless tongue. 

As he continues to abuse your poor clit into overstimulation, you feel yourself about to come undone once again, giving him exactly what he was wanting. Crying out, tearing spilling from your eyes, the feeling in your stomach was so much more intense than your orgasm before, trying to pull away, he only held on tighter, lapping you up like he was starved, like this was the only way to save his life, after a few more flicks of his tongue, your vision started to blur, and you gushed out a clear liquid, that had him in complete ecstasy, “KENTOO-!” You loudly squealed, “stop, oh my god.” You cried out. Looking up tp see his face dripping with your liquid, you blushed deeply, as your chest raised up and down, trying to breathe, coming down from the highest of highs you’ve ever had. 

“Fuck, that’s was sexy baby,” He says licking his lips, wiping his face with his towel. “Nanami-“ you pant, “Yes baby?” He says, moving up to you, positioning himself to enter. “I missed you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he brings his head down and starts to kiss you, sticking his tongue in your mouth. “I missed you too baby.” He kisses down your neck, sucking on it, leaving purple love marks all over. It would serve a reminder tomorrow of how much he missed you, and also how much more he was going to add. 

“I tried staying up,-ugh, Kento I tried staying awake,” You moan, as he starts to slide himself inside slowly, he was big, despite how many times you two were intimate through your marriage, you could never truly get used to his girth. Slowly pushing himself in, he let out a moan, something you didn’t hear much from him. “I’m sorry baby I was late- ugh, today was so-fuck, - it was- so-s-so stress-stressful.” He moans, feeling your walls clench around his throbbing cock, he felt like he could burst at any moment. 

“Damn baby you feel so so good.” Kento says finally pushing that last inch inside of you. Stretching you out at full capacity. “This sweet pussy has been on my mind since this morning. Can’t believe I went the whole day.” He pants, starting to thrust faster, “yes Kento, just like that.” Your moaned in his ear only spurred him on, if you thought this was the only round, you were crazy, “Fuck me baby.” You say looking into his eyes, scratching his biceps, leaving your mark on him, in the same way he left his mark on you.

That was it, that was the string that kept your husband in control, once it snapped, he and you were done for. Your pussy was about to be his flesh light, and you were going to feel every bit of what he was going to give you. 

His hips pulling back, he thrusted back into you just as quick, beginning to thrust deep and precise, kissing your G-spot with each thrust, you had came 3 times in the last 30 minutes, you didn’t know how your body was still going, you reasoned it to be the lack of intimacy, you were in need of a recharge, and this was exactly what you needed to cure the insatiable feeling. 

Nanami kept edging himself, you knew he didn’t want it to end, he would fuck you fast and hard, and as soon as he felt like he was about to bust, he was slowing down. “Kentoooo- cum inside of me,” You began to moan out, “Not yet baby, I’m not ready for this to end,” He groans, feeling himself overstimulating himself. “Baby you feel so good. We fit perfect for each other. You belong to me, do you understand?” He says, you know it’s not a question, it’s a fact. You are his, and he is yours. And he will kill anyone who tries to get in between you two. He even thought about killing Satoru, for calling him before he was supposed to even be up getting ready to leave this morning, it through his whole day off. 

“Kento, I love you.” You moaned into his ear, cumming again for the 4th time, “yes princess, cum for me,” He grunted into your ear, finally about to reach his high. He didn’t slow down his thrusting into you, absolute no desire to stop. “In or out?” He stammered, looking into your eyes for clarification, “In, please cum in me.” Your moaning had him reeling in the pleasure, it was enough to make him spill everything he had inside, and more.

As he peered into your eyes, as his thrust became sloppy and not so precise, you were cumming again, harder than ever, gushing and contracting around his cock, that was when he finally couldn’t hold himself together, shooting his hot cum deep inside of you, you felt your chest rise up and down, and the sweat from his forehead dripping down to his chin. You both were a complete utter filthy mess, and you loved every bit of it. 

“Damn, that felt amazing.” He pants, staying on top of you, not yet taking himself out of you. “It was.” You were panting to, you didn’t think you’d catch your breath for a while. “I just showered too.” He laughed, finally rolling off of you, pulling you to him, to kiss you. 

“I’m sorry I was so late today, today was long.” He sighs, kissing your nose. “That’s okay baby. I understand.” You say nuzzling your head into his sweaty chest, not even caring that you both felt sticky. 

“Princess, let’s take a shower before bed. I’ll change the sheets when we get out.” He says lifting you up, seeing his cum drip from your core. “Fuck that’s so sexy.” He whispers to himself. Stepping into the warm shower, you felt your muscles loosen, and the sweat roll off your skin, you heard your husband clear his throat, “Princess?” His eyes dark, and god his voice so sinful, “I know you’re tired, and I’m tired. But, I’m going to need you to bend over and hold that rail.” He commanded, you look over and you see his cock rock hard again. 

“Yes sir.” You smirk, you silently thanking the universe you told your husband to give you head while asleep. It was going to be an exceptionally long shower & long night. 

[soonwoosz]

boy next door! woozi x y/n

------------------

It had become second nature by now - your nightly ritual of crouching beside the dumpster in an alley you passed on the way home, calling out in a soft, coaxing tone.

“Bingsu-ya…where are you?”

A faint rustling of leaves would answer, followed by the familiar thud of tiny paws, and then the gray-and-white stray cat would emerge from the shadows, its eyes gleaming with quiet trust. You would set out a small tray of food, watching over the feline like a proud mother, only leaving once Bingsu had eaten and curled up safely for the night.

Ever since you moved into this neighbourhood two years ago, you became Bingsu’s unofficial caretaker.

First catching sight of her running away with a piece of stolen fried chicken, you chuckled when you saw the kid she stole from huffing in anger around the alley - Making it your mission to feed the poor kitten. Sometimes you’d talk to it after long days at work, voice low and tired, and the cat would flick its ear or look up lazily, like it was listening.

So imagine your surprise one rainy evening when you arrived, umbrella in hand, only to find that Bingsu wasn’t curled up in her usual spot beside the bin - but inside a slightly lopsided, tattered, cat house that hadn’t been there the day before.

It wasn’t pretty. The roof was uneven, and one of the planks stuck out like it had been hammered in by someone with an artistic vendetta.

But it stood. It had a cushion inside, and even a plastic cover draped over it like a makeshift tarp to block the rain.

You blinked, heart oddly warm.

Someone else cared.

Grabbing a half-broken piece of chalk on the ground, you scribbled in poor writing beside the home: “Thank you :)”

------------------

From then on, you began noticing tiny signs: extra kibble scattered around when you arrived, faint footprints on the concrete, and once, a suspicious fresh tuna can left beside her own dish. She had missed the mysterious cat-taker by just a few minutes.

Whoever it was, they were stealthy.

------------------

The day was like any other, sun was dipping low, casting gold over the pavement as you made your way home.

That was when you turned the corner and heard-

Bang. Bang. BANG.

The unmistakable clamor of a hammer slamming down on something wooden.

Your heart dropped.

Is someone’s trying to destroy the cat house-

You sprinted toward the source, and sure enough, there was a man hunched over Bingsu’s house, hammer raised.

You didn't think. You shrieked.

“HEY! GET AWAY FROM THAT!”

Before the man could even register what was happening, you dripped onto your purse in both hands, swinging like a bat.

“Ah! What the-?!”

“That’s not your property to touch, that’s his home!”

“I don’t know who you think you are - but LEAVE. BINGSU. ALONE!”

You heaved, pausing to catch your breath before wanting to go back down again.

The man had his arms up in defense, dropping the hammer in panic. “Okay, okay! I built the damn thing—stop hitting me!”

You froze mid-swing, blinking. “...What?”

The man pulled his hood down, revealing a flustered face, ruffled brown hair, and a surprisingly familiar profile.

Lee Jihoon.

Your next-door neighbor. The one who just moved in about two weeks ago.

“You... built the house?” you asked slowly, the purse dropping to your side.

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing his arm where you’d whacked him. “I saw Juno sleeping in the rain one night. Thought I’d make something... I don’t know. Useful.”

Your mouth opened. Closed. “Oh my god. I practically jumped you.”

“You really did.” He gave you a pointed look. “You’re not bad with a purse, either.”

You chuckled weakly, cheeks heating. “I’m so sorry, the hammer looked like you were trying to demolish it.”

“I was fixing the roof. One of the nails came loose,” he said dryly, pointing at the plank. “Didn’t think I’d get ambushed in the process.”

You bit her lip, peeking down at Bingsu, who had curled up again - unbothered by the entire ordeal.

“Wait, did you just say ‘Juno’?” you peered up at him. “Ah, I thought she didn’t have a name and I just thought of Juno,” Jihoon paused. “I guess I should start calling her Bingsu from now on as well.

You pursed your lips. “Thank you for taking care of her these days, Bingsu’s important to me.”

To your surprise, Jihoon’s expression softened.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen you every night. Even when it rains. Even when you look dead on your feet.”

You blinked. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Well - not in a creepy way,” he said quickly, ears tinting red. “I just happen to come back whenever you’re around.”

You ducked your head shyly, laughing at his panic. Cute.

He bent down to pick up the hammer, then paused.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jihoon added wryly.

“I didn’t mean to hit you.” You gave him an apologetic smile. “Want a peace offering? I have leftover kibble.”

He grinned slightly—just enough for you to see the real warmth behind his usual stoic face.

“I’ll take it. And maybe we can fix the cat house together?”

You nodded, pulling out a small treat pouch from your pocket.

Your hands brushed.

“Deal,” you smiled.

“Deal,” Jihoon replied.

“I still think Juno was a better option,”

“No chance!”

Maybe Bingsu wasn’t the only one finding a home.

------------------

끝

a/n i was totally inspired by a woozi hc i saw from tiktok!! she's done hcs for other members too for hoshi, wonu etc.

credits: @/miaoua or https://vt.tiktok.com/ZShmW6MF3/ on tt

IM ON A WOOZI RAMPAGE RNN AND THE SCENE WAS TOO CUTE NOT TO WRITE OUT 👺👺

[linoxpudding]

Routine Chaos- Yang Jeongin

summary: a glimpse into the daily life of the yang household

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, humor, married with kids

word count: 661 words

a/n: back again with more dad!skz content, enjoyy ♡

Dad!SKZ Masterlist

-

The Kids: Eldest Son (Sungheon - 7 years old), Youngest Son (Jaeheon - 5 years old)

~°~

You were enjoying a peaceful morning sitting on the couch in the living room with coffee in hand, scrolling through your phone when a loud crash from the kitchen shattered the silence.

Raising two energetic boys meant living in a constant state of chaos. Noise was the background music of your life, ranging from stomping feet, sudden screams, suspicious giggles, and the occasional crash that made your soul momentarily leave your body. At some point, you stopped wondering if something would go wrong and instead started timing how long the quiet would last before the next disaster. So when you heard the crash from the kitchen, you didn’t panic.

You just sighed, because of course something had exploded again.

From the laundry room, Jeongin called out, "I’m not dealing with it!"

You groaned, setting your coffee down. "You’re their father!"

"You’re their mother!"

Before you could argue, tiny footsteps thundered down the hallway.

"YOU IDIOT!" You heard your eldest son, Sungheon, groan.

"NOT MY FAULT." Jaeheon, your youngest son, said defensively.

Both the boys skidded into the living room, and their faces showed pure panic.

You stood up from the couch and crossed your arms. "What did you do?"

Sungheon immediately pointed at his brother. "Jaeheon did it!"

Jaehoon gasped, deeply betrayed. "YOU TOLD ME TO DO IT!"

"Because I thought you wouldn’t actually do it!"

Jeongin finally appeared, looking completely done with life. His usual soft, sweet demeanour was gone—his eye was twitching, and he was rubbing his temples like he had a migraine.

"Who—" He took a deep breath. "Who put my shoe in the microwave?"

You blinked. "I’m sorry, what?"

You bolted into the kitchen and were met with the scent of burnt rubber and destruction. Jeongin turned the microwave door toward you. Inside, one of his sneakers sat tragically melted.

Sungheon and Jaehoon stepped into the kitchen behind you, their faces painted with guilt. When you turned to face them, they froze, exchanging a nervous glance before instinctively taking a step back.

"You microwaved Appa's shoe?" you asked, completely bewildered.

Sungheon bit his lip. "Technically… it was Jaeheon."

"I WAS MAKING IT WARM!" Jaehoon blurted out. "SO APPA’S FEET WOULDN’T GET COLD!"

Jeongin stared at them, his soul leaving his body. "Why… would you think microwaving a shoe was the solution?"

Jaehoon hesitated. "...The logic made sense in my head."

Jeongin dragged a hand down his face. "I can’t with you two."

Sungheon snorted. "Told you it was a bad idea."

Jaeheon immediately turned on him. "YOU TOLD ME TO DO IT!"

"Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it!"

"YOU DOUBLE-DOG DARED ME! I HAD TO!"

Jeongin turned to you, pleading. "You gave birth to these demons. Fix it."

You barely held in your laughter. "I gave birth to them, but they definitely inherited your stupidity."

"HEY!"

"It’s true."

He sighed and turned towards the boys then pointed toward the hallway. "Go to your rooms. Now."

The boys scampered away, still bickering under their breath.

Jeongin groaned. "I need a refund on these kids."

You chuckled. “Too late.”

You stepped behind Jeongin and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his back.

Jeongin sighed dramatically, looking at his melted shoe. "This is why I want daughters."

You gasped and turned him gently by the waist so you could see his face. You squinted at him. “No, Yang. I’m not getting pregnant again.”

He tilted his head, pouting in that ridiculous way he knew might sway you. “Please? Just one? A quiet one?”

“Shut up.”

“But—”

You silenced him with a kiss, gentle and lingering, until he melted just a little more into your arms. He sighed into your lips, finally letting go of the last bit of his microwave induced trauma.

“I still want a daughter,” he mumbled against your mouth.

You pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll buy you a goldfish and give it a pretty name.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

-------------

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[timeagainreviews]

Spinning Yarns at Omo's Palace

It’s rare to finish a Doctor Who story and you think, “That felt personal.” Not in that it was aimed at you, but rather that the story meant something to its writer. This isn’t to say that Doctor Who doesn’t utilise morals or messaging. Russell T Davies has given us a healthy dose of messaging in both of his eras. What’s less common, however, is when the story feels like a personal expression from an individual’s lived experience. It’s rare to find such individualistic stories which also work. Robert Holmes delivered a muddled take on paying taxes with “The Sunmakers.” Chris Chibnall explored his own experience with adoption with the self-insert Timeless Child storyline. But here, with “The Story and the Engine,” writer Inua Ellams satisfies both the desire to tell a personal story and the need to deliver some solid Doctor Who. And deliver he did.

The story of Inua Ellams’ hiring as a writer is like one of those old Hollywood stories. He contacted Davies only to discover that both Davies and Gatwa had previously expressed an interest in working with the poet and playwright. It was as if he were fated to write for Doctor Who. Perhaps it felt too good to be true, because Ellams wrote this story like it was his one chance to leave his mark. Because of this, we see a lot of elements from Ellams’ work within the episode. His play “Barber Shop Chronicles” explores the home-away-from-home aspect of barber shops in African cities. He even uses the same anecdote about Yo-Yo Ma’s trip through Botswana. Because of this, Ellams’ DNA is woven throughout the story, and yet it never loses its identity as a Doctor Who story.

Following the theme of season two, much of “The Story and the Engine,” is dedicated to exploring the nature of storytelling. In this case it explores the communal and cultural significance of having a place where one feels safe to share. When we join the Doctor and Belinda, they’re in the middle of a well-trodden topic- the Doctor needs to get Belinda home. This is when the Doctor gets the bright idea to take the vindicator to Lagos, Nigeria. The Doctor doesn’t use this as an opportunity to go ghost hunting, instead, he’s respecting Belinda’s boundaries by calibrating the vindicator only. It’s Belinda who pushes the narrative further when she asks the Doctor about Lagos. This is when the Doctor confides in Belinda that its a place where he feels safe to be himself. Belinda understands this from her own perspective and encourages the Doctor to go see his friends at his favourite barbershop, Omo’s Palace.

Before we continue, I would just like to cheekily celebrate the fact that I called it about the TARDIS doing the Doctor’s hair. I’m not saying I’m a genius, but it is kinda wild that just two weeks ago, I mentioned it, and now here it is in an episode. Should I play the lottery this week? I kid, but what this speaks to is that there is a clarity this season between the show and the audience. Clearly the crew want us to think about Doctor Who in creative ways. The show gets that the hair and costumes mean something to a wide portion of the fandom. There are whole theories about how the longer Capaldi or Pertwee are in the TARDIS, the crazier their hair gets. So believe me when I say, it’s not far off for the show to do an episode about the importance of hair.

The Doctor beams as he greets the people selling their wares in the Lagos open-air market. He calls people “Auntie” and “Uncle.” They have special handshakes and inside jokes. I understand the people at Bad Wolf Studios looked into actually filming in Africa, but it wasn’t feasible for the budget. Instead, they brought in consultants to bring authenticity to their fake Lagos set. It’s a really lovely attention to detail. When the set is full of extras, it really works. It feels like a set, but in that classic Doctor Who way. Though when the set is deserted, it does look a bit like the marbles room from Squid Game. Having just sold us on the idea that space is a premium in the marketplace, it’s automatically suspicious just how empty the street is outside Omo’s Palace. Combine that with missing persons posters and a keep out sign, and you’re going to need twelve deadlocks and a panther to keep the Doctor out.

The Doctor enters Omo’s and immediately the vibes are off. For starters, all of the shop’s clients are the men from the missing posters- Omo, Rashid, Tunde, and Obioma. And strangely, while the sign outside says Omo’s Palace, a stranger stands ready to cut people’s hair. Omo has been telling the men about the Doctor, the greatest story he has to tell. When Omo was a boy, the Doctor stopped his village from burning to the ground. Since then, Omo’s shop has become a safe place for the Doctor to come and relax. He trusts Omo, so when Omo encourages the Doctor to sit in the Barber’s chair and share a story, the Doctor trusts that it would be safe to do so. Instead, the Doctor can feel the wrongness of the ritual as the Barber’s cape holds him down as if extracting the story.

The Doctor tells a simple story about Belinda to such a vivid degree that the paintings that manifest on the wall from people’s stories look photo-realistic. The story goes that Belinda was finishing a long shift and was headed home to celebrate her nan’s birthday. However, she catches something in a patient’s symptoms that saves the patient’s life and also costs her her evening with her gran. It’s a very modern Doctor Who story for the Doctor to tell. The Doctor is always going on about the nobility of living a normal life. It’s also a cheeky way for them to throw a brief little Mrs Flood cameo in there. It is a little interesting that the Doctor’s story contained Mrs Flood. It’s almost as if Mrs Flood orchestrated her involvement. What does it mean for her to appear in his story in that moment? And why hasn’t the Doctor recognised her yet? You would think he would notice after Susan Twist. Maybe that’s part of Mrs Flood’s plan. An old lady hiding in plain sight? They’d never do it twice! That’s like robbing the same bank! 

One downside about having ADHD is that our minds wander even when we’re engaged. I’ve had conversations with people where I stop listening to them because they were so interesting that my mind wandered. I kept thinking about their point and they kept talking. I do this with books as well. And I did it with this episode. There were so many profound and interesting moments that I had to rewatch this episode because I kept getting caught up in its concepts. And I do mean caught up and not lost. Never once does the episode lose its central thread, though it does keep some aspects a bit vague. I mean all of this as a compliment. I like that it’s an episode that’s actually about something. And I like that it leaves an air of mystery. I’ve said it often in the past that I love it when stories maintain a bit of mystery at the end. I’m reminded of “The Magnus Archives” or the first season of “American Horror Story.” Two different stories, which I enjoyed thoroughly until they gave away too much information. Sometimes an enduring mystery allows us to keep thinking. Solving a mystery can put too fine a point on things. The imagination has nowhere to go.

Perhaps one of the more enduring mysteries at the end of the episode is why the missing men’s hair grows back after telling a story. I’m in two minds about this. I can imagine a few reasons why their hair grows back, but it’s never fully explained. But part of me wonders if this wasn’t either a muddled explanation or perhaps a missed opportunity. We know from reading the missing posters that the men have been gone for about five years. The youngest of the men, Tunde, was only 19 years old when he was taken by the Barber. Tunde is also a footballer, which puts a bit of a ticking clock on his absence. Every day he’s stuck in the barbershop is a day further from his prime. If the growing of the hair was because sharing their stories aged the men, then it would add to that tension. Perhaps the others take his place to keep him from ageing out of his future as an athlete. It would add an even greater sense of urgency and an element of self-sacrifice. That being said, we understand enough about the hair growth to follow the story. People tell stories, the stories power the big spider vehicle, which causes their hair to grow.

Meanwhile, every time someone enters the shop or powers the spider, the TARDIS lights up all red and klaxxony. I found myself laughing at the way Belinda speaks to the TARDIS. She has no sense of wonder for any of it, and I find that hilarious. I half expected this to be a “The Lodger” situation, where the episode is a companion-lite story by having the companion get tossed about on the very cheap to film on TARDIS set. And if it was one of those episodes, they did a great job utilising Varada Sethu’s screentime because it hardly feels like it. Belinda’s method of tapping the TARDIS console and speaking directly to it surprisingly yields results. I like that the TARDIS listens to Belinda and shows her Omo’s Palace on the viewer. I like those times when the TARDIS relents to the companion’s pathetic attempt at interfacing. She may not talk, but she listens.

Belinda struggles her way through the marketplace. It's a sharp contrast to the way the Doctor weaves through the crowd. In a brief cameo, Inua Ellams plays a stallholder who gets into a brief altercation with Belinda over what appears to be spilled yams. Speaking of cameos in this scene, was that a Space Baby standing outside the babershop? Initially I took her to be a young Abby. I expected it to be a glimpse into how she knows the Doctor. Then I get online and everyone is like "ThAt WaS pOpPy FrOm SpAcE bAbIeS!" Does it mean anything more? The Doctor seemed to shrug it off as his story leaking out of the Nexus. But considering the emphasis on storytelling at the moment, that could still have deeper implications. Kinda cool.

The introduction of Abby with her abundance of food is your classic save the cat moment. She feeds the lads so we know she’s got some good in her. However, Abby kisses her teeth at the Doctor as if unimpressed, but it’s not until later that the Doctor learns Abby and he have a history, though maybe not so much with this incarnation of the Doctor. After learning that Abby is short for Abena, the daughter of the spider god Anansi, the Doctor remembers how they met each other. In classic Fugitive Doctor style, Jo Martin makes a brief cameo where she stands in place of the current Doctor and delivers a single line of dialogue. It’s sort of her main thing. Standing and talking. One day, we might even get to see her do something. This isn’t to say I wasn’t wildly excited to see her. Honestly, the further we get from Chibnall, the happier I am to see her. I was excited by the prospect of seeing what a writer of Ellams’ calibre could do with her. I get why it was just a cameo, but damn, let a girl run down a corridor or something.

Long ago, the Doctor left Abena with her father, where he was free to continue using her as a betting chip against strange men and women. Abena learned to distrust her father and the Doctor, leaving her vulnerable to the Barber’s controlling nature. Having spent the majority of his long life feeling unappreciated as the keeper of the Gods’ stories, the Barber plans to pilot the spider to the centre of the story Nexus, where he will unravel the stories of the Gods, thus negating their existence. If you’ve read Terry Pratchett’s “Small Gods,” then you’ll have a good understanding of the way the Barber operates. The Gods grow strong through our stories about them. People’s faith in the Gods feeds them. Cut that off, and you cut off the life force of the Gods. Cut off the Gods and you cut off people’s capacity to think, to imagine, and to hope. Though considering the Gods we’ve met in the last two seasons of Doctor Who, I’m yet to see evidence of a benevolent God, until Abena.

The Doctor’s honesty toward Abena and the men’s prostrations bring out the true Goddess within Abena. Now it is her time to tell a story. She sets the Doctor in front of her while she weaves cornrows into his hair. She tells a story about how enslaved people once fooled their enslavers by mapping the road to freedom within their hair. They would pass these maps on to others through their hair, and nobody was ever the wiser. Neither my boyfriend nor I knew this, and we both sat there, mouths agape at the brilliance of such a concept. When Doctor Who was initially developed, there was always a plan to use the time-travel aspect of the story to give history lessons. This might be one of the finest examples Doctor Who teaching history. Not only was it fascinating to learn, but it also plays into the story. I can’t stress how much I loved this. Incredible.

The Doctor and Belinda follow the Doctor’s hair through a labyrinth in the back of the shop to make their way to the engine of the spider vehicle. The engine looked like a cross between a baobab tree and something Delia Deetz would have sculpted. It also reminded me of the TARDIS’ architectural reconfiguration system from “Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS.” I find it interesting that there is so much machinery and tech surrounding the Gods in this episode. As Gods go, this use of technology evokes the Thor movies over fire and brimstone, and not just because the Doctor namedrops the Thor movies. It makes me wonder if perhaps none of these “Gods,” are as magical as “The Wild Blue Yonder” would imply. Instead, it feels more like Arthur C Clarke’s idea that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

The engine sits surrounded by relics of every world religion. There are books and televisions feeding stories to the story engine. The Doctor lights up the machine with the six-word story of his life- “I live. I die. I live.” The life cycle of a Time Lord. It is now apparent why the Doctor told such a pedestrian story with Belinda’s life-saving moment at work. The totality of the Doctor’s lives flickers across the screens in the typical montage of past Doctors. The Barber is excited by this surge of power to his engine, but it’s too much power for the vehicle to withstand. Oddly, it was Belinda who delivered this information. I was left scratching my head as to how she would know the engine was about to blow. That felt like more of a line for the Doctor. I guess they realised Belinda hadn’t spoken in some time. With things about to blow, the Barber’s only option is to evacuate Omo’s Palace with haste. I found the destruction of the vehicle a bit strange. The spider never comes off as a menacing creature, but as it explodes and tries in vain to claw its way out of the shop, it feels like more of a villain than a vehicle. Appropriately, the clip the engine room played of the Ninth Doctor from “The Doctor Dances,” was precisely the one this final escape brought to mind. “Just this once, everybody lives.”

When I watched this episode with my sister, she expressed surprise at the mercy shown to the Barber. But when you think of it, the last time someone kidnapped a person for a five-year journey was “Gridlock,” and Milo and Cheen weren’t evil, just desperate. The Doctor forgives Omo, who also forgives the Barber. Omo even gifts him the barbershop and his father’s name, Adétòkunbo. Omo has more important things than cutting hair, like meeting up with the girl in the blue earrings from his photo. It’s an uplifting ending that I hadn’t expected. But it’s heartening to see that not only is Doctor Who becoming more of a space for diverse voices, but one that allows for those voices to express joy. I don’t want to watch trans stories where trans people overcome death and oppression. I can read the news for that. I want to see trans people befriend the Meep. Black fans deserve these moments in Doctor Who without also having to give a pound of flesh.

I spoke last week about the importance of Doctor Who as a bit of escapism. But where do we escape to if not our safe space? This episode feels huge in that respect. A black Doctor, hell, two black Doctors, a mostly black cast, and a black director have come together to bring us what is possibly one of the most heartfelt and joyous episodes in the show’s history. The show has a lot to atone for. It took the show 20 years to hire its first woman writer and 55 years to hire its first writers of colour. But this feels like a step toward making the fandom a safe space for people of colour. It feels monumental, no matter how long it took them to get to this point. This may end up being one of my favourite episodes of modern Doctor Who. The only people this stands to alienate are those who thought Doctor Who was a safe space to be a bigot. Because that was delightful.

[dioslesbianwife]

Can I please request the Jojo's with a partner who a absolute angel always helping people no matter she never gets angry has the patience of a saint and always is there for the people who need her.

Imagine her having a healing and calming presence like she is there guardian angel and even protects their family and friends.

but her stand is a biblically accurate angel she keeps hidden because it's to much of a human person to look at but has like a halo above her head so she doesn't have to show the stand fully so it can hurt people's mind .

(I love you're work stay hydrated and take care of yourself you are important)

sure, thank you so much I really appreciate it <33333- i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting ^^

Jonathan Joestar

You are everything Jonathan has ever dreamed of and more.

He finds your kindness awe inspiring, and your Stand makes him feel like he’s truly in the presence of something divine.

He never pressures you to reveal it fully, but the sight of your glowing halo when you heal someone makes his heart ache with admiration.

“I don’t deserve someone like you,” he’ll whisper, holding your hand as you soothe the pain of a stranger.

He tears up watching you gently mend others' wounds and spirits.

If your Stand shields his friends or family, he will swear to protect you with his life- "Even angels deserve someone to guard them.”

Joseph Joestar

At first he’s a little cocky, teasing you like “Whoa, you’re like a literal angel- what the hell, did I die and go to heaven?”

But when he actually sees you quietly tend to strangers, give your time to the suffering without asking for anything, and still smile when others would crumble?

He’s humbled. Deeply.

“...You’re the real deal,” he mutters once, watching your halo glow as your Stand heals someone’s crushed ribs.

Joseph starts bragging about you constantly- “Yeah, my girlfriend has an angel Stand. Actual halo and all. She’s basically divine.”

But in private, he gets more gentle, more respectful. He leans on your presence when he’s scared or uncertain.

Jotaro Kujo

You’re like the calm after a storm for him.

Jotaro doesn’t say much, but when your fingers touch his hand and that warm, soothing energy flows from your Stand... he relaxes in ways no one else could ever make happen.

He notices how your halo glows stronger when someone’s truly suffering. It’s subtle, but it kills him inside when he sees how much you give.

He starts quietly protecting you. Pushing himself harder so you never have to hurt yourself helping others.

If someone questions your strength because you’re “too nice,” he glares: “She’s stronger than you’ll ever be.”

Josuke Higashikata

At first he’s like, “WHOA, THAT’S YOUR STAND?! IT’S GOT A HALO?!? THAT’S SO COOL.”

Then he realizes just how much you give to others. How you sit with sick kids, hold mourning parents, comfort strangers...

You patch up people he’s fought, and he’s stunned every time. “You’re... so good.”

Josuke starts offering you help before you ask, bringing you water, rubbing your shoulders, sneaking you candy when you’re tired.

His mom loves you. She calls you “an actual angel” every time she sees you.

And when your Stand once shielded him from harm, Josuke actually teared up. “Thank you... for being here. For all of us.”

Giorno Giovanna

He sees your selflessness and patience, and he’s mesmerized.

You’re the only one who can match his quiet intensity- and your energy is gentle, yet powerful in a way even he respects.

He never doubts your ability to protect, and he deeply values how you protect his team.

When your Stand once enveloped Fugo in light to calm him down, Giorno placed his hand over his heart.

He said nothing, but the next morning you found a single golden rose on your pillow.

He often looks at you like you’re a divine being- and if anyone tries to hurt you, he’ll destroy them.

Jolyne Cujoh

She doesn’t understand you at first. You’re so calm, so impossibly kind, even in the chaos of prison life.

But when you reach out to help others- even her enemies- and your halo glows with that soothing warmth, she’s floored.

Jolyne grows deeply protective of you. She doesn’t want this world to drain the light out of you.

“Don’t smile through it,” she’ll tell you when you’re exhausted. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

But you are strong. When your Stand shields Emporio or Ermes from danger, Jolyne realizes you’re their guardian in every sense.

You’re her peace in a brutal world- and she clings to that peace with her whole heart.

Johnny Joestar

He doesn’t know how to feel at first. He’s cynical, bitter, broken.

But you never flinch. You sit beside him, talk softly to wounded animals and strangers, and he watches your halo pulse softly as you heal aching wounds- both physical and emotional.

It unravels him. He falls in love with the warmth you bring to even the coldest day.

“You’re... not from this world,” he murmurs once, watching your Stand curl protectively around a child you saved.

He doesn’t say much, but your presence changes him. He lets go of grudges faster. He smiles more.

You're his comfort and courage in a world he never thought would give him peace.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

He’s drawn to you instantly. You’re a mystery, like him- but where he’s fractured, you’re whole. Where he’s scared, you’re calm.

Your halo comforts him more than anything.

You help people even when it hurts. And when your Stand steps in- shimmering, terrifyingly divine but kept hidden- you always smile after.

“You okay?” you ask him after shielding and checking on Yasuho.

He stares. “...Yeah. Because you’re here.”

He starts seeing your halo as a sign that things will be okay. If your glow’s still shining, then the world hasn’t fallen apart.

He leans against you in quiet moments, feeling safe for the first time in ages.

[katzusai]

⊹ preachers daughter

remmick fanfic | sinners

hai this is like my first tumblr post ever, i’m really excited but also scared to post on here. lmk if you have any tips or corrections!ᰔ

(and hi yes i did take inspo from a fic i had seen, i just interpreted it in my own way!!^.^ | intro crd: pureintntions)

tags: slight smut, vampire x human, licking, teasing, praise, neck kissing, biting, begging, possessive behavior, one shot

words: 2.5k (－ｏ⌒)

happy reading! enjoy..^_-

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ᥫ᭡

You were the last one left, pushing a broom across the sanctuary’s worn wooden floors. Staying late wasn’t unusual, you did it often, especially now that your father had started to slow down. Not that he’d ever admit it. “I ain’t old till I stop breathing,” he’d mutter whenever you brought it up. Then his straw would slip from his lips, he’d grumble, you’d laugh, and he’d pretend to be mad before cracking that familiar, tired smile.

You paused to catch your breath, brushing sweat off your brow. The stained glass above glowed faintly, the images of angels and saints cast in muted blues and purples across the pews, more solemn now in the quiet than glorious.

Crunch. A noise outside snapped you to attention. You stiffened as the heavy church doors creaked open.

“Still at it?” your father’s voice called. You let out a breath, nodding as he stepped in with a handful of sermon pages. He glanced around. “Chairs still out back?”

“Yeah. I’ll get ’em,” you offered. “You should head home.”

His look said he had no plans of leaving, but he muttered, “I’ll be back,” and stepped outside again. The doors shut behind him with a thud. You sank into a pew and let your shoulders relax. It was going to be a long evening.

Not long after, there was a knock. Sharp. Deliberate.

“Come in,” you called. No answer. You stood slowly. “…Daddy?”

The door eased open. A stranger stepped inside.

“Callin’ me daddy already?” he said with a smirk, head tilted, eyes glinting with something too calm. Too sharp.

“Who are you?” you asked, standing straighter.

“Not someone you need to be afraid of,” he said, raising both hands. But his eyes drifted toward where your father’s pistol was tucked behind the pulpit. “Wouldn’t reach for that.”

You froze. “Why not?” Your voice trembled despite yourself.

He smiled, too many teeth. “Because your old man’s out back. And I didn’t come alone.”

You took a step back.

“That’s better,” he said, moving closer. You kept retreating until your back met the cool stone wall.

“I just want a word,” he murmured, reaching out like he’d known you for years. “Been hearing all about you. The preacher’s kid. The one who always stays late. The one who never says no.”

His grin widened. “That tenderness? That’s what drew us in.”

The way his tongue traced his bottom lip had your legs wanting to go weak. "And how you're so sweet, and kind. And.. beautiful." The tip of his nose skimmed your neck.

"Stop." You protested breathlessly, "Stop.. You're.. way too close..", His lips were at your ear again, and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. And something else. A low growl.

"Why? Gettin' nervous, princess?" he teased, his fangs grazing against your skin, sending chills down your spine. "You're trembling." He chuckled, his hand pressed against the wall beside you.

His cool touch caused your eyes to flutter as you caught yourself letting out a soft whimper. He smirked, his fangs glinting in the moonlight.

"Scared, darlin'?" he drawled. His free hand traced a path, starting from your jawline, to your collarbone. You tried to move, but you were pinned.

"Or.. excited?" His fingers moved lower, tracing the edge of your top, his thumb brushing against your exposed skin. "You're so.. warm." He sighed. "Feels good to touch something with a beatin' heart."

You should be scared, terrified, but his touch sent your mind into a frenzy. His lips ghosted over your pulse point, his fangs scraping against your skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

"So.. soft," he whispered, his fangs grazing your earlobe. Your mind was clouded by the feeling of his breath, the way his touch left a trail of heat in its wake. And those fangs - they sent a mix of anticipation and dread through you. "I could just.. taste you." He murmured, his voice low and deep. The thought sent a wave of heat straight to your core.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing along your ribcage, and he leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours. You tried to resist, but the sound of your heart quickening betrayed you. He chuckled, "You're shaking again, princess. I ain't even got my fangs in ya yet." He gently captured your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, but there was a hunger in them that wasn't just about blood.

He pulled you closer, one hand still pinning you against the wall, his other wrapping around your waist. Your chest was heaving, and you knew he could feel it. His lips curled into a smug smirk. "I was right. You're not just sweet and kind. You're a little bit.. desperate," he drawled, voice dripping with a mix of mockery and admiration.

You tried to protest, but your words were trapped in your throat. The sensations coursing through you were too much. The warmth of his touch, the sharp edge of his fangs, the way he was consuming you without even biting. He leaned in, his lips hovering above your skin, and inhaled deeply. "You smell delicious," he growled. "Can't remember the last time I had a meal this... enticing."

"No, ple –" You started, but he hushed you with a finger to your lips. "Shhh." He murmured, his eyes flashing with a hint of warning. "Let's see how well you follow instructions, shall we?" He pressed himself even closer now, and the words died in your throat, as your mind became mush.

"Be a good girl," he purred, his lips against your pulse again, "And I'll only take a bit."

He moved his lips to your neck, his fangs scraping against the sensitive skin. You trembled, but remained still, your breath hitched in anticipation. His grip tightened, and he smirked. "There ya go," he whispered, "That's it."

Then, he sank his fangs into your neck. It wasn't the sharp pain you expected. Instead, it was a deep, intoxicating pleasure, like nothing you'd ever felt before. Your body responded immediately, arching into his grip.

He pulled away for a moment, and you whimpered at the loss of his fangs. But he was only admiring his handiwork. Two puncture wounds adorned your neck, a small trail of blood creeping down. "Beautiful.." he murmured, before licking the drops away.

A jolt of desire shot through you as he did, and he noticed, his eyes glinting. "You like.. that, princess?" He teased, licking his fangs again.

You groaned, your mind a mess of sensation. His words, his touch... it was too much. "P-please," you gasped, and you weren't sure if you were begging him to stop or to give you more. He chuckled, and he sounded satisfied.

"Please what, darlin’?" He asked, his fangs scraped against your neck, and you nearly melted.

"Please... don't stop," the words escaped your lips before you could stop them. He inhaled sharply, his grip on you becoming almost bruising. "You sure about that, darlin'?" He questioned, his voice dropping even lower. He moved his fangs to your ear, his tongue tracing the shell.

You nodded, your body betraying all sense of reason. "Yes," you mumbled, your eyes half-lidded in a daze. He hummed, his fangs gliding down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "That's my girl," he crooned, his voice filled with a mixture of admiration and possession.

His lips moved back to your pulse, and you could feel his tongue lapping at the still-fresh wounds. The sensations sent waves of heat coursing through your body. He chuckled, "I think you like this more than you thought ya would, princess."

He traced your jugular with his fangs, a low growl in his throat. "I can taste your excitement in your blood," he murmured. "You taste so damn good."

His words were like fire in your veins, your mind completely consumed by desire. "Bite me again," you breathed, sounding needy. He chuckled, "Demanding, aren't we?" He teased, his teeth hovering over your skin. He moved down, his lips on your collarbone. "Beg for it," he commanded, his voice a low, seductive purr.

"Please!" you whimpered, unable to resist the mix of pain and pleasure he was drawing out of you. "Please... take more." The words spilled from your lips, driven by the heat coursing through you. He gave another smirk. "Begging already, princess? You're eager."

He moved lower, his lips skimming over your breast. "Say it again," he demanded, his fangs hovering over the swell of your flesh.

You trembled as he traced your flesh, your mind a haze of pleasure. You were entirely at his mercy, and he knew it. "Please... god, please," you pleaded, the words coming out in a shaky breath. He grinned at the desperation in your voice. "That's it," he crooned, "Show me how badly you want it."

He moved even lower, his lips trailing down your stomach. "Beg me to bite you again," he ordered, his voice thick with desire.

You obliged, your body and your mind completely under his command. "Bite me, please!" you gasped, your back arching. "I want it. I need it." His lips were now at your hip, and you could feel his breath on your skin, his teeth just grazing over the sensitive flesh. He chuckled, enjoying your pleas.

"You're so damn desperate, princess," he teased, licking a stripe across your hipbone. "It's making you taste even sweeter. I could feast on you all night."

"Please..." you whispered, your eyes half-lidded in a haze of desire. "Oh, God, please... I want it so bad." Your body was trembling now, desperate for more. He smirked, clearly pleased with your pleas. "That's my good girl," he murmured, and finally, he bit down.

The sharp pain returned, this time more intense, but it quickly gave way to the pleasure that came with it. You cried out, your back arching against him.

His fangs were buried deep in your flesh, drawing blood into his mouth. You felt the pull on your vein, your body surrendering completely to his need. "You taste... incredible," he muttered, his voice thick with pleasure. "So damn sweet."

He withdrew his fangs, licking the wounds clean, prolonging the pleasure. "You're so reactive, princess," he growled, his hands gripping your hips.

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensations you'd never imagined before. He chuckled, "I think I could get addicted to you, princess." His grip tightened on your hips, his fingers digging in. "You're trembling for me. Begging for more."

He nipped at your earlobe, his fangs scraping against your skin. "You can't help yourself, can you? You're completely under my spell."

He moved back to your neck, his lips tracing the sensitive flesh. "You're a symphony of sensations, princess," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. "Every sound you make, every shiver, it's all music. Perfect."

He pulled back to look down at you. "You're addicted now, too, aren't you?" His fingers moved lower, and your body tensed in anticipation. "You want more of what I can give you. My touch. My fangs. Isn't that right?"

Your mind was spinning, your body trembling at his words. "Yes," you gasped. "I want more. Please. I need.." Your voice trailed off, the need in your voice was undeniable. He grinned in satisfaction. "Say it. Say you need me."

His lips returned to your neck, trailing kisses and gentle bites down your collarbone. "Tell me you're mine." His voice was a deep, possessive rumble.

The words came tumbling out without hesitation. "I need you," you breathed, completely enraptured. "I'm yours. All yours." Your heart was beating out of control, your body trembling with need. He hummed, clearly pleased with your surrender. "That's my good girl," he whispered, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of kisses on your chest…

He stopped at your breast, his fangs scraping against the sensitive flesh. "You're so beautiful, princess." He murmured, his voice low. "So delicate. So.. willing."

His hand moved lower, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs. "You're mine now. My good girl. My little doll." He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your compliance. "I think I'll keep you."

Your mind was a whirlwind of pleasure, your body completely under his control. "Anything you want," you gasped, "Just... please.. more." Your words were a mix of pleading and need, a desperate admission. He chuckled again, his fangs scraping against your breast. "So eager," he whispered, "You're like a drug, princess. I can't get enough of you."

His lips moved lower, his fangs grazing over your stomach. "So soft," he growled, his hands roaming over your body. "I could touch you all night." He nipped at your hipbone, the hint of pain making you whimper. "You're going to be fun."

His mouth moved lower, his fangs now grazing over your inner thigh. Your body tensed in anticipation, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. He chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. "You're so sensitive," he muttered. "So goddamn responsive. I can't wait to play with you."

His teeth scraped against your flesh, sending a shiver down your spine. You were entirely at his mercy, your body trembling in his grip. "Please," you gasped, the word barely a whisper. "More." He grinned, clearly relishing your desperation. "Beg for it," he growled, his lips hovering near your most sensitive area.

"You," you gasped, your mind consumed by desire. "I need.. you." The words were like a broken record, a constant repetition of want and need. "Please..more...I can't... " Your body was trembling, desperate for release. He chuckled, his fangs tracing over your skin. "You're so eager, princess. So damn needy."

He moved lower now, his lips now hovering between your thighs. "Patience, doll," he teased, his fangs scraping against your skin. "I'm going to enjoy this." Your body was trembling, your mind consumed by the sensations he was stirring up. He chuckled again, clearly relishing the sight of you coming undone. "You really are a symphony of sensations, aren't you?"

He moved lower, his lips trailing along your inner thigh, and your body trembled in anticipation. He chuckled, his breath hot on your skin. "You're so sensitive," he murmured. "I can't wait to taste you." His fangs grazed over your flesh, sending a shiver down your spine. Finally, he reached the most intimate part of you, and his mouth made contact, his tongue exploring and teasing.

You gasped, the sensations he was drawing out of you were almost unbearable. His fangs scraped against your flesh, but they only added to the pleasure. "So..sensitive," he growled, his voice sending vibrations through you. He pulled away for a moment, savoring the sound of your whimper of protest. "Don't worry. I'm only getting started."

His tongue traced over your sensitive flesh, circling around the most intimate part of you. You gasped and writhed beneath him, completely at his mercy. He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. "You taste so damn good," he murmured, his words sending waves of heat through you. "I could stay here all night."

His lips and tongue were driving you wild, every touch building up the pleasure inside you. You could feel it building, growing like a coiled serpent, ready to spring. You whimpered, your body arching against him, desperate for release. "Please," you gasped. "Oh..Please..."

He could tell you were on the edge, the sound of your voice driving him feral. "Please what?" He teased, his teeth scraping over the most sensitive part of you. "Use your words."

…

[gatorbites-imagines]

Could you please do Boba Fett? With a male reader who wants kids. Or when reader and Boba have kids? I have baby fever right now and Boba is one of the biggest things that helps.

Boba Fett x Male reader 

Headcanons 

Lmao, this has been in my inbox a while... Star Wars has been tickling my brain again finally. 

Its a bit of a stereotype that Mandalorians love kids and hoard them like dragons hoard gold. 

But Boba isn't technically mandalorian, at least in his own eyes. Being mandalorian is more about culture than blood, and seeing as how his only ability to learn about said culture was cut short, well. He wears the armor and respects his father's memory though. 

Doesn't stop him from experiencing the baby fever. Especially if you are mandalorian and share the same baby fever. Boba will claim it's something he inherited from Jango. 

I could imagine Boba struggling in the beginning at the thought of you wanting kids, be they adopted or either of you carrying them if you are able. This also very much depends on when you guys are together. 

If its during his bounty hunting days, then Boba would want kids, somewhere deep inside, but he would not have them. Especially knowing how he lost Jango, there's no way he would want to put his own kids through that. 

After crawling out of the sarlacc and being taken in by the Tuskens, I think Boba starts turning the idea more in his head. Hes not gonna allow it until his status on Tatooine is solid, but, it would be easier to convince him. 

If either of you are able to carry your child, then Boba starts getting very broody. Doesn't matter if its you or him carrying the child honestly, he starts pacing, huffing and puffing. 

Call it protective nature, but the castle is getting suited up for war, just in case anyone tries coming for either of you. 

If its Boba that's pregnant, then he wont say it, but he appreciates massages and being cared for, a lot. Hes already older, covered in a lot of scars, so having to carry a pregnancy really wears him out. 

If it's you, then he gets even worse. Hes never leaving you alone, and there are times where you need to call for assistance from Fennec to get some privacy. Theres no need for Boba to be in the room when you bathe, but he will try it. 

Or, you guys can adopt. Even then, Boba acts like a broody hen, no matter the kids age. If they're a baby, then they are strapped to his chest. Or, inside his armor, which he's loosened enough to hold them. Only you get to hold the baby. 

If it's a kid he tries to be as approachable and fatherly as he can. Sadly, Boba doesn't have too much experience with a stable father figure. As much as Jango tried, being a famous bounty hunter didn't create the safest and most stable childhood. 

If its a teen, then Boba still tries his best to be a solid stable person they can lean on. But no matter what I can still see him struggling when it comes to being vulnerable. He tries though. 

Youll find your kid sat on his lap or the armrest of his throne on the regular when you can't find them. They always try to scowl like Boba, but it just looks adorable.  

Your kid will want to dress up as Boba, so you two end up getting them durasteel armor in a familiar mandalorian shape, like any mandalorian who hasnt become an adult yet. 

Here Din is a bigger help, since he knows the culture more thoroughly than Boba. Din becomes the kids uncle too, where Grogu will become their cousin. Fennec is involved too, of course. 

Being a dad would both stress Boba out more, but also calm him. Some part of him would settle at having your kid relying on him, someone to take him down a few notches. 

It means he doesn't always have to be on the defense, always ready for the worst. Obviously, he allows himself to open up with you, but only in private. 

With a kid, Boba starts being more vulnerable and finds his emotions easier. In the beginning its because he forces himself to do so, as he wouldn't want his kid to think he doesn't care. 

I have a feeling that your kid sleeps between you two at night for a good while. For safety, sure. But also for comfort. Doesn't matter if they are naturally born or adopted, this kid feels the safest between their two dads. 

Having a kid also means Boba actually sleeps more and cares more for himself, since he has to be worth looking up to.  

You catch the two of them taking naps together a lot, the kid draped across his middle. It's always easy to snuggle up beside them, Boba always wrapping an arm around you even when sleep. 

[coffeelovingcreature]

★a little story I wrote

I just wrote a small image of Eli who calls Ghost "dad" for the first time. It's been two years since Ghost had adopted Eli and he never called him that before :P

---★

It was a normal day at home. It was pretty early in the morning, and Ghost was already ready for work. Normally, he would’ve been off long before dawn to do some training and prepare for a long, hard day of missions, but this morning was different.

Since Eli had stepped into his life, a lot had changed.Now it was already 7 a.m., and Eli had to go to school. Ghost had to wake him up- well, almost drag the little boy out of bed. Eli was eight years old now and in 3rd grade. Ghost sighed, barely noticeably, as he stood in the kitchen preparing some sandwiches for Eli.

With his big, calloused hands, he tried to cut the cheese sandwiches smaller, since Eli had complained that the toast was always too big to eat. When Ghost finally managed to cut the sandwich into four equally sized pieces and put them into a lunchbox, he also added an apple. Then he closed the lid and brought the box over to Eli’s backpack.

When Ghost returned to the kitchen, he saw Eli still sitting at the table, eating cereal. A bit of milk had spilled on the table, and as soon as Eli was done eating, he jumped from his chair and dashed out of the kitchen. Ghost ran a hand over his face and grabbed a tissue to clean up the mess. While doing so, he called out: “Don’t forget to brush your teeth, kiddo!”

He heard Eli’s pounding footsteps heading to the bathroom and the boy shouting back: “Okayyy!”

As Ghost wiped the table, his mind wandered to how much Eli had changed since he adopted him. In the first few months, Eli barely spoke. Ghost hadn’t minded, he actually preferred it when kids were quiet and didn’t get on his nerves, but something had shifted in Eli’s brain. Suddenly, he had become a loud, energetic child who always kept Ghost on his toes.

Even as Ghost had always been against the idea of adopting a child, in fact, he’d never even considered it, he’d somehow has gotten used to having Eli around. The thought of waking up one day and not having the kid there, gave him a weird feeling.

He was used to Eli running around and spreading chaos. But sometimes, Ghost wondered if it had been a smart decision to adopt a child given the nature of his work. He had always kept people at a distance for a reason. Every mission he went on was a risk. Every morning he got up could be his last. He accepted that risk, but now, with Eli in the picture, he wondered what would happen to the boy if he didn’t come back one day. Would they send him back to an orphanage?

The thought stung a little in Ghost’s chest, even if he normally didn’t allow himself to get emotional.His dark train of thought was interrupted by Eli, who now stood in front of him and said: “My teeth are clean!”

Ghost looked down at him. “Really now?”, he grumbled. “Show me.”

Eli gave him a wide, toothy grin.

Ghost just nodded. “Good. Then get to the car.”

Eli threw on his dinosaur jacket, slung his backpack over his shoulders, and ran out to the car. Ghost was already sitting inside, waiting. After Eli climbed in, Ghost drove the usual route to school.When they arrived, Eli opened the door but leaned over to Ghost before getting out. He said cheerfully: “Bye! I love you, Dad!”

Ghost froze for a moment. Before he could say anything, Eli had already jumped out and slammed the door shut. He watched the kid run towards the school building and the other children already going inside.

For a few minutes, Ghost just sat there, staring after him.

“Dad...” he murmured to himself.It was the first time Eli had ever called him that. Normally, he’d say Simon or Ghost, but never Dad.

Ghost looked into the small car mirror and thought about it. It sounded strange. Him? A... dad? But it wasn’t a bad feeling. Actually, it wasn’t bad at all.

As Ghost drove off to work, he caught himself smiling, just for a second. He could actually get used to the term, when he really thought about it.

Then his expression shifted to a slight scowl.If Johnny found out about this, he’d never let me hear the end of it...

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

Prompt: Hate at First Sight | Word Count: 2319 | Rating: G | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Eddie / Steve | CW: N/A | Tags: internalized classism, angst, angst with a happy ending

This is an entry for @corrodedcoffinfest's May Mayhem Bingo.

I know nothing about cars. I can't even drive. But I had some feelings about Steve's s5 truck. Here's the second out of three fics I wrote about it.

ao3 link

The stars on any other car would shine as bright

It was a good practice. One of their best even. Eddie tries not to think about that and not about how they're going to get to their next gig. They might have to cancel. His van is in the shop and renting something that can take all of their instruments and themselves to the venue is going to put them straight in the red. His van is ailing again, probably due to age. Eddie tries not to think about how much it's gonna cost to replace whatever it is that's going to need replacing. Maybe it's time for the girl to go out to pasture. But it's not like he's got new van money either.

He feels a little bit like an abandoned puppy as he scans the street outside Gareth's garage for Steve. He said he was coming to pick him up. But Steve's maroon beemer is nowhere in sight. Eddie tries to swallow down the sudden rush of panic. It's not like Steve to be late, not for him. Something might have happened to the kids, or to Steve while he was on his way. He can't remember the last time he changed the batteries in the radio he carries around everywhere with him at Dustin's behest. Shit. What if his radio is out of battery and the kids are frantically calling him right now?! And he can't even get to them even if he knew—

"You're thinking so loud right now dude," Steve says as he appears out of nowhere.

If Eddie had a tail (now that's a thought), he'd be wagging it hard enough to break. "Where were you?" he whines, sexily.

"Uh, here, the entire time," Steve says sheepishly. He points to a big ugly blue truck right in front of them. "Sorry. I know it's a new car but I figured you'd see me inside. But you kinda stood out in front and zoned out."

"Where's the beemer?" Eddie asks, confused. This truck looks like something Wayne might insist on buying. Practical. Lumbering. Ugly as fuck. The inside looks cheap too. It's all grey plastic and fake suede, nothing like the elegant leather of Steve's beemer. "She sick too?"

"Erm," Steve clears his throat and looks away awkwardly. "I err… traded her."

"For what?" Eddie sputters, "not… not for that thing?! You traded your beemer for that thing?!"

Steve mumbles something to the ground and gently wraps long fingers around Eddie's forearm, trying to coax him into the ugly thing. Eddie stomps his feet like a fucking toddler then plants himself. What the fuck.

"You loved that car," Eddie insists, "what happened?! Who did this to you? Was it Nancy? Did she say something about you being too high maintenance or some shit? As if her station wagon is any—"

"It's just a car Eds," Steve says gently, "it just wasn't practical you know?"

"Not practical for what?" Eddie squawks, "and don't fucking lie to me. As if you didn't spend a few hours a week pampering the maroon lady."

"I just… you know, the kids are going to start moving away to college and I want to make sure I can help them move. Maybe Wayne needs help hauling shit."

"Wayne has a truck," Eddie says, eyes narrowing, "and the kids have at least a year or two until college, and they all have parents to drive them."

"So why the fuck would you trade your car in now?" Eddie continues, talking loudly over more protests and lies from Steve, "unless… It's to replace my van isn't it?" Eddie hisses, eyes narrowed.

"No!" Steve says. A deep flush spreads from his forehead down to his neck, probably all the way down to his toes. "I mean… a little bit. A tiny bit. I figured… you have a gig coming up. It'd be easier? Maybe? If you had a truck for your stuff…"

Eddie looks at Steve then at the car then back at Steve. Back in high school, Steve never seemed to wear the same polo twice. He walked around in expensive cologne, head held high, not a worry in the world. Even when he got knocked off his throne by Billy Hargrove and Jonathan Byers, he still maintained an era of untouchability.

Until Eddie came along.

Now Steve's standing in front of him in slacks he wore yesterday, exhausted after a day of dealing with customers on his feet all day. Broke. Chipping away parts of himself to hand over to him. If it weren't for him, he'd be shacking up with some other rich girl right now. He'd be hamming it up in a big house with an upgraded beemer parked behind a pristine white picket fence. He'd have a cushy job and infinite polos and beautiful men to fool around with in secret.

The Munson curse is spreading.

Eddie can't breathe.

He turns around and runs into Gareth's house.

-----

Wayne's probably an hour or two away from forcibly dragging Eddie out of bed. He'd done it before. When he was younger he used to just flip the mattress over. Eddie shifts and buries himself deeper into the cover, breathing carefully so he doesn't have to sniff his own stank. He knows Wayne is worried. He's heard him and Steve talk in low voices outside his bedroom before Steve left. The kids are probably worried to. He's been blowing off his band. Jeff is probably looking for a new guitarist already.

He's ruining everything.

Eddie buries himself deeper into the covers and yearns for the simpler days when all he had to worry about was how they were going to stave off the end of the world.

Someone throws his bedroom door open and marches in. Eddie fruitlessly clutches his covers around himself, burrowing into it like some sort of pathetic dung beetle.

"Get the fuck up Eddie," Chrissy demands.

"Go away," Eddie calls out.

"Ugh, it stinks in here. Get the fuck up," Chrissy says.

She doesn't wait for Eddie to ignore her again. Eddie squawks in protest as she unfurls her arms into multiple strands of strong vines. The vines grasp the edges of the Eddie's blanket shield and yanks. Eddie's left exposed, shivering.

"Eww why are you in your boxers?!" Chrissy squeals, averting her eyes.

"Why the fuck would you just yank my covers off?! What are you doing here anyway?" Eddie protests, throwing an am over his nipples to protect his modesty.

"I came over because if Robin were here, she'd kill you and I don't want my girlfriend to go to jail for killing my friend," Chrissy says, rolling her eyes, "now get up."

"To do what?" Eddie asks.

"To shower? To get your shit together? To apologize to Steve for running off on him?" Chrissy says, her voice getting higher and higher with each exhausting activity. "You know he's fucking devastated right?! And over a car?" She leans against Eddie's bedroom door and surveys him disapprovingly, eyes narrowed. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you weren't just dating Steve for his money. But what the fuck Eddie? What's your problem?!"

"Since when do you cuss this much?" Eddie mutters, trying to change the subject.

"Since I came back from the dead," Chrissy snaps, "I think I earned it."

Her face softens a bit. She sighs. "Eddie. Do you want to break up with Steve?"

"No," Eddie says. He hides behind a greasy handful of his curls.

"I figured," Chrissy says, nodding, "that's why you're hiding right?"

"I would dump me if I were Steve," Eddie says darkly, "he should dump me."

"Why?"

"Because I keep taking shit from him?!" Eddie says disbelievingly, "he loved that car Chrissy. And he gave that up for me."

Chrissy opens her mouth. Eddie barrels on before she can say something devastatingly correct or reasonable. "And it's not just the car!" Eddie says, standing up on his bed, "the car is a symbol of everything wrong with me. Steve's given up the chance to live a normal life, to get out of this town, to have those six kids in an RV, everything he cherished, it's all going away. Don't you see?! I'm a blight! I'm a blight upon his fate and future and everyone is just letting it happen!"

"Have you talked to Steve about this?" Chrissy says with a sigh.

"Yes! Exhaustively! All the time!"

"In those exact words? Did you call yourself a blight?"

"Well no, I have some dignity," Eddie says.

Chrissy gestures at his general state with a bitchy glare that reminds him (heart wrenchingly) of Steve.

"Is whatever hangup or dignity you have more important than Steve?" she asks quietly.

Eddie shakes his head silently.

"It's hard seeing you both like this," Chrissy says with a sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"Say that to Steve. Don't drag this out," Chrissy advises, "Steve's been hanging out at Lover's Lake most nights. You should go. Talk."

----

Steve's favorite cookies? Check. Weed? Check. Wildflower bouquet? (well, more like a corsage, flowers are harder to come by after the Upside Down tore the town apart) Check. Starlight gently shimmering over the lake surface? Check and double check.

All Eddie has left to do now is wait. Something he's really bad at in general. The worst part is that he's not even sure that Steve is going to show up. Chrissy said Steve hangs out at Lover's Lake most nights. Most. Not all. He kind of wants to radio Robin, to see if she knows if Steve's going to show up tonight. But based on what Chrissy said, and based on what he did, he'd be lucky if she doesn't figure out how to shoot a hole through his brain using radio waves.

He's such a fucking asshole.

Eddie chews his lips and stares out at the lake surface. It's a messed up thought, but he kind of misses the time before the defeated Vecna. Sure, it was terrifying and stressful. Sure, he was slowly losing his mind while guarding the Lover's Lake portal all by his lonesome. But it was… simpler. He had a purpose. Now it just feels like he's just dicking around doing fuck all besides hurting the people around him. He hopes, prays, that Steve choosing to mope at Lover's Lake means something. It's where they first confessed their feelings, where they had their first kiss. At least it means something to him.

"You're thinking real loud again," Steve says out of nowhere. Eddie jumps and nearly crushes the wildflower bundle.

Eddie kneels like the olden knights, holding out the bouquet like a… whatever knights offer their kings. He can't stop shaking.

"Thanks," Steve says quietly. He gently pries the flowers out of Eddie's clawed hands and sits down next to him. He leaves some space between them even though he cradles the flowers like they're something precious. Eddie hates how small he looks, how he's trying to scrunch himself into a little bundle.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says.

Steve grunts. Eddie fiddles with the grass as the silence stretches on. Starlight gleams off of Steve's new truck.

"That hurt. A lot. When you…" Steve starts then stops.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says again, feeling like a broken record.

"I just…" Steve sighs then picks up a stone. They watch it skip seven times before sinking. "I feel like I'm constantly disappointing you?"

"What?"

"Like, my job. My house. My clothes. And I guess my car now," Steve huffs sadly into the flowers, "you keep telling me that you love me. Then you get this look on your face sometimes. And it makes me feel…"

Steve trails off and looks away. Eddie can see the corner of his lips quivering. Can see the peach stones on his chin. Eddie scoots over, closing the distance, and puts his hand over Steve's. Steve doesn't protest when Eddie moves Steve's hand onto his laps. The forgiving, loving bastard.

"You're my favorite person," Eddie says earnestly. Steve scoffs. Eddie grabs his chin and forces eye contact. Steve's eyes are bright. His lashes are dark with tears.

Eddie Munson is a fucking asshole.

"Look. You're smart. You're funny. You look devastatingly beautiful at all hours of the day, even when you're hungover after throwing up on my favorite boots," Eddie lists out. He watches a subtle blush form and flow down Steve's neck. He wants to bite it. "I was being a fucking conservative sickwad alright? I'm the problem. I'm the one feeling like I'm holding you back from what you want."

"What do you think I want?" Steve whispers.

"Six kids. A nice big yard for your winnebago for when you're not traveling. Lots of time off. Long vacations…" Eddie trails off, "you know. The dream."

"That's not—" Steve huffs, "fuck man, I wish I'd never said that. That was the heat of the moment alright? Something stupid sentimental I said when I thought I was going to die, and that Nancy Wheeler and her arsenal might be my only option."

"Am I your dream then, Stevie? Little ol' me?" Eddie asks, batting his lashes. He leans in for a kiss.

"Yeah, you asshole," Steve says, gracing Eddie with a chaste little peck. "A little house together for you and me and Robin. A car big enough to help out however. Enough free time to build memories. This. You and me and everyone." Steve grips Eddie by the face and gives it a little shake. Eddie smiles and lets Steve move him around.

"Want to start building memories now?" Eddie asks, waggling his eyebrows. He points at the truck bed. Steve blushes and nods.

Eddie gets up and grabs Steve by the picnic blanket, relishing in the adorable yelp of surprise, ignoring the way the cookies, the flowers, and the other arrangements he'd made gets scattered to the ground. They've got a new truck to defile.

[cartwrong]

”I’ll have you know that I have not reached my peak dumbass just yet.” 🙏

thank you <3333 god we love when this dumbass dumbasses don’t we?

from this ask game

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jackson Lamb said, pausing to light a cigarette and then staring down at the dumbass he had the distinct displeasure of calling one of his joes. “What part of don’t let him see you was difficult to understand?”

There was blood streaming down one side of River’s face and he was guarding his ribs like they had been caved in by a pair of fists, which Lamb suspected wasn’t that far from the truth. Lamb pulled the lad to his feet, hand to his hip to steady him before he fell over.

“He didn’t see me. His bodyguard did. Didn’t mention anything about him,” River shrugged then winced. His pupils were blown and he was swaying like they were on a ship in the middle of a fucking storm not standing in an alleyway in Brixton.

“If you were any dumber I’d have to call the people from Guinness and have them give you an award.”

“I’ll have you know,” River slurred, then swallowed — likely attempting to prevent himself from vomiting — then swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and held up a bloody finger, “I’ll have you know that I have not reached my peak dumbass just yet.”

“Clearly. God help us all. Now, come on, let’s get you seen to. You probably have a concussion and if you die in your sleep Standish and Guy will never let me hear the end of it.”

“Taverner will probably give you a medal,” River smirked, leaning too much on Lamb for his liking as they limped towards his car.

“You're lucky I wouldn’t accept a cup of water from her if I was on fire.”

“Still got the photos though,” River said then stifled a groan as he reached inside his jacket pocket for a memory card.

“And here I was thinking you were completely useless,” Lamb said before River turned a shade of green and turned sideways and threw up his supper. ”Jesus Christ.”

”—orry,” the kid slurred and Lamb plucked the memory card from his fingers before he dropped it in the pile of vomit. “Did I get you?”

“No, or I would leave your arse here. Let’s get out of here before someone else decides to take their turn to pummel you. ”

”Good idea, gaffer,” River replied and tried to offer him a salute as Lamb deposited the injured agent into the passenger seat of his car. He only manged to hit himself in the face.

River would certainly reach peak dumbass at some point in his likely too short life, Lamb could only hope he’d be dead before it happened.