#but if that's still a work in progress she's not really surprised or bothered by anything

[princessmacedon]

where the spirit meets the bone

Scarcely do they escape one nothingness ere they are brought into another. Laughter, uncanny and sharp, echoes from on high as it demands an answer of all of them:

"Where do you belong?"

Harsh lights flicker into existence in rapid succession, yet their illumination brings little life to… wherever this is; Maria isn’t sure anymore. What she does know— or note— is the sense of unbelonging, the too still-ness. That, and the fact that their parties have been reunited on what seems more alike to a theatre’s stage than anything else. 

“We found you!” She calls to the others, though found is only the least ill-fitting word. The worry that dogs her heels pulls her only a half step forward, leaning in the other group’s direction but unwilling to let go of Tiki. “Are you all alright?” 

(Her gaze flickers toward a bright, unnatural marking crossed upon the floor nearby.) 

“That…” 

(—Isn’t what matters most to her right now.)

Despite her call, the others do not answer, though she can hardly fault them for it. Three years of such excursions have not left her any less surprised by the threads that tangle in the skein of reality -- or at least they do not affect it much. And besides, Maria can still see herself that for the most part, those present look to be in fine physical health -- can feel it herself, even, in the weight now absent from her steps, the aches vanished from her body. What stays with her, however, is Tiki, gripping her hand like a vice and pressed against her side in search of such comfort as Marth or Bantu might offer her, though the cleric is not so well practiced in giving it. 

She draws on memories of what soothed her, then, when the nightmares were too much. "Tiki," she says gently, lowering herself to one knee, looking up with calm adoration as a brother might. "I'm here with you." Her hands tangle into a reassuring, kinder grip around the little dragon's own, and she smiles with such warmth as a big sister would. "...Won't you take a walk with me?" 

And so they do; Maria speaks in soothing tones as they pass each and every answer by, though she steers well clear of that distant crimson stain. There are considerations to be made, and even more so when her dear, sweet friend sticks like honey to her side. Who they are here, in this moment -- who she refuses to let them be... 

She draws to a stop in that cross-marked doorway, still holding fast to Tiki's hand. The others, too, disperse to the different answers laid out before them, and at some point Hilda joins the two of them. In time, it becomes still again, and even the most minute actions become larger-than-life in this unmoving toy town.

And then a burst of violent motion shatters the stillness of the set; Maria pulls Tiki closer to her, watching in dismay as some among them are punished for their answers even as she shields the younger girl's eyes herself. Yet she has nothing with which to heal them, and what if they would be punished for abandoning their 'places'? What if Tiki follows her? The cleric hesitates, eyes flitting across the group. Her gaze lingers lastly on Laslow, a hand pressed to her stomach in silent question, concern writ clear for what seems a bleeding wound (she never knows anymore with these expeditions). Do you need help? It asks him. I'll come running if you do. 

Even then, her weight shifts forward, desperate. Torn. More than once, her foot shifts forward. Then comes the gifts -- the props, as the voice puts it, familiar in her bitterness. She promises them whatever they pick, so long as they suit it... but that's the problem, isn't it? 

Maria does not think again of the lance or the swords (one of them she even recognizes as Princess Corrin's blade, glimpsed in the skirmish at Nahan); only fleetingly does she consider the tools, though they would prove useless in her hands, and the relic, whose price she suspects she would be loathe to pay. Longest of all she lingers on the axe, a note of tenderness plucked upon her heartstrings for thoughts of her brother and her sister, her heroes now and always -- but the axe does not belong to her; it never has.  That leaves her, then, with the intangible. Maria chooses nothing, the seeming emptiness, and the most familiar of all things that she wields.

The correct answer, it seems, leastwise according to their captor's judgement. Thus it is her reward to stand there empty-handed as Laslow and Farina turn their weapons upon themselves, no doubt pulled like puppets upon their strings. Scarlet dances along the blades' edges, then disappears once more, leaving the two of them with naught else than blood-soaked palms. Beside them, something sings discordantly: the shattering of glass, shards lancing through Hilda's hand. Instinct guides the cleric's hand toward her, fingers ready to wrap gently around her arm.

It is not to be; in an instant, they are separated once again, that same laughter echoing across the empty space in acrid notes, but what Maria keeps hold of is its familiarity. It does not exult in its declaration -- not enough. The weight of realization aches within her chest no matter how her hand seeks to soothe it, fingers wistfully digging into fabric, their trails the points of wishing stars gathered in her heart. "...But Aphie was my friend," she murmurs softly. It is not a rebuttal-- it is not anything that can cut through the suffering that spurs their storyteller onward-- but it is the truth. 

"Do you understand the role you play?"

She rolls her digits as she thinks; the motion keeps her thoughts here, where she might do something, light and shadow playing across each of them in kind as the shadow of the sword stretches long across her stage. Full well does she see the way her so-called 'role' has played out across this story, how it reflects the girl she was during the wars, the girl she might still be now: tender-hearted, naïve, helpless -- the girl who needed to be protected, who needed to be saved, though she wishes she hadn't. And it is part of her, but it is not the whole of her. 

In a way, Maria has always known the role she plays, long before she understood anything else. Before she knew her herbs and poultices, she knew all of the bedtime histories that set Michalis' eyes a-sparkle; before she knew her letters, too, she knew how to make Minerva laugh. She was always meant to believe in them, even when they gave up on themselves; she was meant to keep them safe in the way that she could; she was meant to love them.  It is who she chooses to be, always. And, though there is a tinge of sorrow to it, she smiles as she approaches the mannequin; quietly, she imagines that it is Aphie, and hugs it, her arms reaching around to lay gently, soothingly on its back.

(Not all such gestures come too late, she tells herself, even as her heart bleeds. Too often they still do.)

Perhaps the pieces shift, or perhaps they are transported elsewhere -- Maria isn't sure, but as the lights turn, her body follows them all on its own. A town, a scene, its narration distantly unclear as though she listens from underwater. Her mind spins as her feet thunder; this is a story. She thinks of Rusalka. The villagers-- we have lived here all our lives. An unnecessary detail, a tale played out upon knowing minds. Something is being told to us. 

She thinks of Rusalka. 

Then Byleth stands opposite of her, a blade drawn, and still her body does not move as she wishes. But it is alright. Her arms wrap around him as she had yearned to do back in Nahan, the memory of her brother's shield still vivid, warm, and bright. Thank you, she wants to say. I'm so happy you're safe, she longs to tell him. Yet even her jaw remains still. The lights flicker off. In the endless darkness, she wishes she might hug him tighter, that they might both remember they are not alone. She cannot; the scene changes again. 

And her body belongs to her once more, thrown forward at once to hold Tiki in her arms, against herself. The blood is warm through her dress -- and, though her magic still abandons her, at least she can shield Tiki's eyes once more, lest they meet with the glassy emptiness in that of the corpse before them. Though it keeps the company of lifeblood and the grave, it belongs to neither, just as they do not belong to it. And the voice asks again: "Do you recognize Daria?"

Daria. She does not think they ever learned the name, but as her thoughts race through her memories, she thinks it must be someone the three of them know. Perhaps the girl, then? The one on the cart, the one who talked with-- The cleric blanches, eyes darting hither and thither, but she does not find him. 

...She holds Tiki closer still. And then: 

"...Princess Corrin... were you there in Rusalka?"

Perhaps it is because she thinks too often of Aphie, but she is trapped in the thought like a snare. The voice is too familiar, and it tells them too much, the same lesson imparted again and again: you cannot escape your roles. 

Then if Daria, too, was confined to her role-- a victim, a sacrifice, a loss-- the tombstone ill fits her. Such love as she deserves would not be afforded to her by those who would rob her and so many others of the chance to feel it once more. Her gaze lingers on the goblet then, a scant single drop of blood remaining. The blood and bodies of the innocent make a fine feast for the devils that linger in dreams, as Maria is well aware; if this was Daria's role, she has no doubt that this is all that remains of her. After all, look how much of the corpse is wasted -- look how it bears a bow to defend itself, as if they would have ever been granted that hope! But... she thinks of Rusalka. 

"The goblet," Maria says suddenly, "is what's left of her in the story... isn't it?" 

Yet the corpse before them still breathes, living only by the barest definition of the word -- it breathes. Where all the other pieces in this sorrowful play have been mannequins and props, this body is tangible. It is the enigma of the stage-- and, she thinks, the point of it. Gingerly, she passes Tiki into Corrin's care, lilies blossomed in the scent of rust upon her shirt. 

She kneels before the corpse, her hands clasped, eyes closed. Perhaps it is true that she has always been naive, but she wishes no other way to be. 

"...Is this your Daria?"

The corpse's hands begin to move -- pale, withered things that play the bow's string in larghissimo. Maria's fingers remain threaded, the horizon of her eyes touched with a quiet sorrow as she prays to Naga, to Fódlan's Sothis, to whichever deity watches over the dreamers come and gone that they might have their well-earned peace. She does not know if they are answered, but the arrow never comes. ...Only a voice and her question, no longer from the empty heavens, but from in front of them. Her form is indistinct, but her words clear and sharp. 

"Escape one eternal punishment," the voice answers, and in it, Maria hears sorrow. "Trapped by another." The clarity returns: "Do you know who I am?"

And perhaps it is not by her name itself, but somehow, Maria thinks she might. At the very least, she feels the pieces of the puzzle are in their hands, if only they can put them together the right way. Most glaringly of all, the voice-- the girl-- is not a stranger to her. No, she remembers her in the aftermath of Rusalka: the girl between the glimpses of rubble and the clatter of cans, the voice that fairly trembled with rage as she swore she would kill her one day.

"...everyone," she begins, her head turning only slightly -- enough to indicate she speaks to her companions without turning away from the bodies before them. It feels... disrespectful, somehow. "Do you remember the dreamers in Rusalka? They dreamed, and they waited... I think..." A pause; the next words, spoken softly: "...they're precious to her.

"Her family," Corrin answers her, the rhythm of her words bespeaking hesitance. "We... While everyone slept, we met someone similar, but..." A pause. "That dream ended, I thought."

"Where do her illusions end." Ephidel's voice cuts cleanly through the both of them. "Even she cannot escape them."

Plainly, their thoughts are on the cusp of unity, but Maria cannot speak with such surety as Ephidel can. Though her heart still bleeds when she remembers it, in the end, Maria still thinks of Rusalka fondly-- thinks of Aphie fondly. The place itself was steeped in sorrow, the full extent of which she was not privy to. 

"What if there are other dreams?" It comes as a whisper, tentative. "After we returned, I dreamed of someone else -- someone who thanked me, and..." Rose colored eyes rise to look at the figure before them, silhouetted against the light tangled in the mist. They had wished to kill her, too, but this she keeps to herself, lest it be a dream the others were not 'favored' with. "...that was after. After Aphie... and the others..." The sigh that slips quietly past her lips speaks for itself.

"This person," Corrin begins again, in the wake of too-telling silence, "Princess Maria, do you recall if they sought... revenge?"

The truth is not something that can be escaped, and Maria is not in the habit of telling lies. What she says, she believes. It is as simple as that.

But neither is it that she fears revenge (indeed, perhaps not as much as she should; be mindful of death, she must remember, for one day it will keep you.). Rather, she is scared that they will lose the woman before them now, for even if she sows her understanding in hatred, even this can be a bridge. Yet conflict is a cycle, and when lives are the coins with which men barter, they are loathe, understandably, to lay down arms. They do not have to forgive; they do not have to forget. It only has to end... and she hopes, likely in vain, that it will not end in blood.

"...They did," she admits, voice quiet.

"And that is her." Ephidel says the truth the others do not wish to speak. "This is her revenge."

Where words fail her, she hears Corrin's voice rise again above their gloomy mire, so much more than the nothing the woman declares them to be.

"It was your family we killed in Rusalka, wasn't it? You escaped, and you waited for your revenge, luring us here by making us fear for our own families. You wanted us to feel even an ounce of your grief." (How long had she waited for them to wake up? And since when had she known they never would?) "And you brought us here to kill us for what we took from you."

"Not yet," she answers, and therein lies the proof of their suspicions. "You have succeeded in entertaining me, but that is not why I will let you live for a while longer." The light fades-- she fades-- and when she speaks again, it is once more from above. Distant. "My family was fated to die either way. You will die because you are sheltered by the foul beast that condemned us for who we are. But not yet. You have bought me time, at the cost of my energy."

Even the darkness grows smaller, sticking to Maria like mud.

"Pasithee is my name, child of Celephais and Keranes."

She cannot so much as see her hands in this pitch void, let alone everyone else. Tiki, Corrin, Ephidel-- even Daria is gone. Pasithee asks one final question:

"Do you know where you are?"

So it is her. Maria feels at once like she has learned so much, and yet nothing at all. Her hands fall to her lap, still clasped, just as her gaze rises above. 

"The foul beast...?" It is murmured mostly to herself, thoughts treading across intertwined knuckles. When it comes to the high powers of Fódlan there are many, both political and magical, but one who shelters them, children of this land and strangers both? She can only think of one. 

Her throat tightens, her thumbs cross; this isn't the time. Pasithee's question rings out in the darkness, endless and yet echoing across a stiflingly small space. The feeling was far from unfamiliar, albeit she had never felt it with such acuity. At the least, she had always had stone beneath her palms and soles.

 "Hello, Pasithee." A smile curls across her lips like the frond of a tender fern, and her heart yearns to see, to understand, regardless of whether the attempt is futile. And besides-- how long had it been since she last heard her name? It must have been an age. She speaks in earnest: "I'm glad to meet you." 

And now to answer the million-gold question: where are they now? There is nothing telling left to them-- not the props, nor the stage, nor even light itself. The loneliness is cloying. Is this, too, part of her story? She wants to understand. 

"Is this..." The cleric turns the words over on her tongue, as if she might slough away their rough edges. "...your second 'eternal punishment?'"

There is no answer. There is nothing. And like Pasithee must have been all these years, she is alone.

[keerysfreckles]

Lando request, maybe something like Lando taking care about his overworked girlfriend, maybe she has lost some weight and has a headache every single day because of it and he is telling her to relax and taking care of her

just love — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: lando comes home to his girlfriend pushing herself to her limit.

warnings: none! pure lando fluff! (not proofread)

a/n: one day closer to race weekend we cheer ‼️

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

lando loved traveling.

he loved seeing new views, and going to remembered cities. he was grateful during race weeks, meaning he got to jump on a plane to another destination almost every week.

however as much as the brit loves flying over the clouds to another country for the weekend, he wanted nothing more but to be home with his girlfriend in monaco.

he had gotten fewer texts and calls from her in the past two weeks he was gone. he was busy with a double header, and she was busy herself.

what lando didn't know was y/n was pushing herself. she was more than determined to finish her final year of college with a bang. even if that bang included her to drain herself, physically, emotionally and mentally.

she kept telling herself that if she got her work done sooner, it'd be a bigger reward.

the only problem with her plan, was the work was taking much longer to finish than she had anticipated. which explains why she's been attached to her computer for almost every hour of the day, barely looking away to eat and sleep.

lando came home to a dark apartment. not surprising considering it's almost one in the morning in monaco.

he left his bags by the door, deciding to deal with it in the morning when he could be louder without bothering y/n.

what lando wasn't prepared for, was seeing his girlfriend awake in their room. her computer in her lap with one of lando's hoodies covering her torso.

"baby?"

y/n jumped in her spot. lando's heart broke once they made eye contact. his eyes met her bloodshot ones, containing dark circles underneath.

he walks to the bed to sit on the edge, his hand caressing her knee. "what on earth are you still doing up?" he peaks at the computer, seeing many tabs open, one of them being for her psychology class.

"i need to finish. there's only two weeks till finals for most of my classes, and if i don't finish the assignments then–"

"baby," lando cuts off his girlfriend's rambling, "you're going to get it all done. you are one of the smartest people i know. i just hate seeing you like this. you've over worked yourself, just like last year."

y/n takes in lando's words, knowing he has a point.

"you're almost done," lando takes the computer from her lap, checking the progress of her classes from another tab. "you're done for tonight, okay?"

y/n nods, "how was the race?"

"you didn't get to watch it? you always watch the races."

y/n looks down, fiddling with her fingers. "i haven't really put down the computer since you left."

lando simply leans forward to kiss y/n's temple.

"that's okay," he stands from the bed and walks toward the connected bathroom.

y/n's only more confused once she hears water running from the bathtub.

once lando appears back in the room, he holds out his hands to help y/n off the bed. when he wraps his arms around her for a much needed hug, he can't help but notice she's gotten smaller since he was last home.

his hoodie seemed more loose around her, and she felt thinner in his arms.

"have you been eating?"

"sometimes," y/n mumbles into lando's chest.

lando lets out a small sigh, disappointed that his girlfriend would chose her school work over keeping herself healthy.

"i started you a bath, you just get comfortable and i'll be there in a few," he kisses the top of her head before leaving the room.

y/n follows his directions, as she leaves her clothes in a pile before stepping into the bath. she can't help but giggle at the bubbles floating at the top, knowing lando decided a bubble bath was better than a regular one.

she leans against the cold tile of the bath, finally letting herself breathe. no school work in her face, no deadlines, no teachers screaming in her ears.

she needed this, and she could sadly admit that she'd never pause her studies to do this herself.

in the time it took for y/n to put her hair up in a ponytail, lando was back in the bathroom. he changed into a pair of swim shorts, and was carrying a long tray. one that was left to go onto the bathtub.

"i wasn't sure what you were in the mood for, so i kind of grabbed everything," lando explained while setting the tray in the middle of the tub, resting on tile.

"lan it's perfect," y/n's heart melts at the sight in front of her. there were bowls and plates filled with chocolate hershey kisses, sour patch kids, rolled up sliced of turkey and cheese, three mozzarella sticks, cheese balls and two wine glasses of what y/n guessed was fruit punch.

lando kisses the top of her head once again laughing as she dives into the childish feast in front of her.

"you can join me, y'know," y/n states.

lando mutters an excited yes before stepping in the opposite side of the tub. the two clinked their wine glasses of fruit punch together before making dents in plates of food.

"thank you honey," y/n smiles at lando, feeling more than grateful for what her boyfriend did.

"i love you," she states, a blush still manages to make it's way to lando's cheeks at her words.

"i love you more."

[antiquarianfics]

The Best Things Take Time

Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

----

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.

The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.

Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.

Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.

Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.

Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.

Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.

—

“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.

“You get used to it,” Sam replies.

You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.

“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.

You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.

—

It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.

Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.

Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.

Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.

—

“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”

He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.

Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.

“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.

“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.

Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.

—

Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.

He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.

“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.

The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.

“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.

“Oh.”

“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”

You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.

“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.

Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.

“Okay.”

He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.

Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.

“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.

“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widened and you blushed.

“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.

She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.

“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”

She turned to Bucky then.

“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”

With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.

“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.

And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.

“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”

You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.

—

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.

"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.

"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.

"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.

"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."

[teddywook]

(de)stressed ꨄ song eunseok

wanings. dom!eunseok x sub!fem, pet names, breeding, spit, daddy kink, mommy kink (i guess), unprotected sex, and for sure i'm forgetting something but well.

words. 2.229k

i really really hate methodology.

@sehodreams you remember i was talking to you about this like, yesterday? so... couldn't contained myself.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

—stupid bitch

is the first thing eunseok hears when he enters your shared room. his eyebrows rise when he hears you let out an annoyed growl and curse under your breath as you forcefully press the keys of your laptop on the desk.

—harsh words coming from such a pretty mouth

he has a lopsided smile when you turn to look at him, your lips involuntarily pouting after letting out a snort. he crosses the room to get to you, his hands gripping the back of your chair and turning it to face you. eunseok leans his body towards you as he leans the back of your chair and presses a kiss to your plump lips, taking his time to enjoy their softness.

—what is bothering my baby so much?

he asks quietly, one of his hands still holding the seat back as he cradles your face, his thumb rubbing lovingly over your cheek.

eunseok watches your brows furrow, your pout turning into a displeased grimace and your nostrils flaring as you let out another annoyed snort.

—my methodology teacher reviewed my progress and made me correct most of my text. it's a fucking fictitious company. the hell did she mean that my justification is not viable? she even dared to say that i misquoted the author. i've been working with sampieri long enough to know that i'm quoting correctly. does she think i'm that dumb? she's the stupid bitch here, she needs someone to fuck her bad attitude off, maybe then she'd stop being a pain in the ass.

—language, pretty girl

his voice sounds like a mocking warning. it's not that it really bothers him, on the contrary. eunseok finds it funny that his beautiful and adorable girlfriend have such a... wide vocabulary. but he knows it bothers you when he corrects you and he likes to see you roll your eyes every time he does it.

—language my balls. who are you? my dad?

this time eunseok's eyebrows raise in surprise. there's a glint of amusement in his eyes when he speaks again.

—it seems like you're the one who needs someone to fuck that attitude out of you, baby girl

it's you who looks at him in surprise this time. you want to be upset by his comment, but more than being offended, it sends shivers down your spine.

—forget it, i should do this shit before i kill myse-

you can't finish your sentence when eunseok drops your seat back onto the floor. his hands quickly reach for the elastic of your pajama shorts to put it down along with your panties.

—eunseok!— your voice is a squeal that turns into a gasp as your boyfriend slaps your pussy.

his hands hold your thighs, parting your legs, placing them on the armrest of your seat. eunseok falls to the ground on his knees, getting dangerously close to your core

—seok seriously, i need to continue with my wor-

—shut up— another slap makes you jump in your place with a whimper— don't you dare to move

you listen how your boyfriend clears his throat and the sensation of a subtle blow along with the warmth of his saliva sliding through your folds, his fingers rubs it spreading the sticky moisture and he slaps your pussy again.

—where did that attitude come from, huh? such a brat, should i teach you some manners?

—f-fuck you

eunseok clicks his tongue and pinches your clit, putting a little more force on the sensitive bud at your rude response.

—only if you behave well

your boyfriend interrupts what you are about to say with his lips sucking directly on your clit, his fingers dig into your skin while his hands hold your bare thighs tightly, pulling your seat to get you as close to his face as possible.

—damn—  you let out a grunt, trying to push your boyfriend's head away, but eunseok is stronger than you and tightens his grip on your spongy thighs. bites hard enough into your sensitive center to cause a sting of pain, but not enough to do real harm.you look down at him, big dark eyes watching you, you can make out a hint of determination and amusement in them.

you know he won't let you go easily, so you collect your pride and finally allow yourself to be manipulated under his touch. not that it was really anything unpleasant after all. eunseok's lips were wonderful, and he was truly a great pussy eater.

you bite your bottom lip and let your head fall back on the back of your seat, your hands go to eunseok's head again, but this time they grab his hair to keep him close. eunseok, for his part, can feel your body relaxing, your thighs losing their tension under his hands.

—good girl

eunseok uses his tongue to teas your entrance, taunting you and causing you to let out a loud whiny moan.

—c'mon seok...

—wanna cum love?

he asks but doesn't need the answer, he knows your body too well. recognize the trembling in your legs, the rocking of your hips looking for friction, the features of your face contracting in pleasure. you feel your orgasm building up in your abdomen, your hands fisting the head of your chair in search of support. and when eunseok hears your moans become more desperate, he abruptly pulls away from your throbbing cunt.

you let out a cry of frustration that sounds more like a whimper at the sudden drop. your eyes widen with a mix of anger and disappointment and you look at eunseok, a smirk on his face as he watches with amusement the way you thrust your hips chasing your orgasm.

—can't gett off baby?

—isn't fair,  you're so mean...— your pout causes him tenderness and he decides to show you some mercy.

—aw, my baby so adorable... but she's been a spoild little brat, she can't have what she wants just like that, can she?

he approaches you, his arms lifting you from the seat to take your place, placing you in his lap. one of his arms wrap your waist, pressing you against his chest, the other traces lines on your skin, from your stillclothed shoulders to your inner thighs. coming dangerously close to your cunt, taunting you with a smile when he feels your skin crawl at his touch.

his lips lick the skin from the base of your neck to the lobe of your ear, brushing and biting a little

—say the magic word honey, or i won't let you cum 

you bite your bottom lip, a whiny moan leaving you mouth. eunseok knows exactly how to make you weak under his influence.

—please... seok... please

eunseok coos pleased over your ear, a smirk on his face as his fingers make their way to your dripping cunt,  pads rubbing against your folds. eunseok's index and ring fingers part your lips while his middle makes circles your throbbing clit.

—that wasn't so hard to do, was it baby?— he receive a whimper as response —you like it? why don't you tell me exactly what you want, love?

—want you to fuck me seok, please... need you

—oh really? need me that bad? but, i don't think you deserve it tho

his hand stop his movements, getting a little a way from your core but still on your inner thigh, grinding the flesh

you let go a yelp, rocking your hips over his lap on a whine but his hand on your waist moves to your hip, griping it to force you to stop. you can feel his hard cock digging on the swell of your ass.

—don't be a little bitch and behave

his voice is husky in your ear, rough and just too hot that got you dripping even more. you need him so bad inside you.

—i'll be good, promise daddy

—mhm, that's it baby. what a good girl for me

eunseok press his middle finger to your core, rubbing a little the sensitive nub before having pressing it into your entrance. your wet walls taking him so well. your little moans makes him wanting to hear more of your sweet sounds so he adds other finger, your count clenching around them.

—seok please nee-

he thrusts his fingers hardest, cutting off your words and taking a loud moan from your part lips.

—whatcha saying baby? didn't hear you

you give your best to collect your words despite your tongue feels numb.

—wanna feel your cock insi- fuck! inside me... shit- need you to fill me up daddy

—i don't think you're allow to get any dick until you cum like this

—but-

—you better not finish that fucking sentence or i'll let you here without you can gett off

eunseok was mean most of times, but tonight was meaner. maybe is your frustration floating out, maybe he's just in the mood. no matter what reason is, you love it.

so you make your lips a plane line and let your head rest against eunseok's shoulder. which allow him to see your fuck out expression making him grin at you pleased.

—that's better babygirl. now be good and cum on daddy's fingers.

eunseok thrusts his fingers in and out of your swollen pussy, hitting that spongy spot that got you seening stars.

he can feel the tremble of your legs, your breath getting heavy as your arched your back. your own fingers digging on his biceps as his drive you to your high.

your walls clenching around his fingers as loud whimpers fills your shared room. eunseok let you rock your hips fucking yourself on them. your movements become slow as you calm yourself.

a pleased sigh leave your mouth, your body laying languished against eunseok's but before you can even say a word, eunseok flips you up.

he bens you over the desk, your cheek against the wooden surface as he keeps your arms behind your back from your wrists with just one hand.

eunseok manages to undo his belt and zip dow his jeans with his free hand. you hear him spit on his hand and the wet sound of him pumping himself. the tip of his cock taunting your entrance

—please

—what it is baby?

—fuck me daddy, please

—can't deny it to my baby when she's asking so nicely

he enters slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. he gets in fully and just stays still with your gummy walls embracing him

it's only when you star to rock your hips against his when he begins to thrust into you.

isn't too fast, but certainly not soft neither. he likes taking his time with you. his thrust are deep and rough, making himself sure you can feel every inch of his cock inside you as he fucks you dumb.

eunseok brings his free hand to brush it off your hair that's blocking him the seen of your pretty face. he caresses your hot cheek delighting in your ruined expression. furrow eyebrows, a puddle of saliva on the wood draining from your part lips. he wraps his hand on the back of your neck, holding you in your place as hi starts thrusting against your pussy harder.

your whines and moans drove him into a frenzy, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside you. your legs fail, but his grip keeps you up. you start to cry his name lost in pleasure.

—can you feel me baby? i'm so fucking deep

—s'good, s'good

—keep going love, moan my name so everyone can hear who makes you feel this good

—s-seok gonna cum

—go ahead baby, cum for me. cum for daddy

eunseok's name leave your mouth in a cry loud whimper. orgams hitting you so hard that made your whole body tremble.

eunseok fuck himself in your milky cunt, your own orgams make your walls embrace him in such delicious way that got him letting his head fall back with shut eyes. groans escaping his lips, both hands griping your hips, diggin on your flesh as he chase his peak, overstimulating you along the way

—too much!

—it's not. good girls take what they are given.

tears runs down your cheeks till the wood, your head feels light due the overwhelming sensations. your poor pussy being abuses at this point.

—oh my fuck, i'm so close

—please...

—you want me to fill you up baby? i really want to breed this precious pussy, sounds good isn't? don't you wanna hear me calling you mommy?

—s-seok!

—cum with me, mommy

that's enough for you to clenching around eunseok's cock on your third orgasm of the night.

he cums behind you, his hot seed filling your cunt and mixes with your own fluids, making a mess on your tights.

eunseok pulls out of you carefully, aware that you are still too sensitive. he lift you up like a bride, taking you to the bathroom.

—seok, my work...

—shhh. for now we're having a warm bath and good sleep. tomorrow you can continue with your work.

—alright love— you feel too sleepy to complain actually.

so you just silently allow your boyfriend to take care of you. he press a kiss on your head, a wide smile on his lips.

—that's my good girl

[targaryen-dynasty]

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

GIF.

Modern!Maegor Targaryen x fem!Reader

Based on this request

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, age gap, power imbalance, rough sex, degrading, power play, size difference

WORDS: 1.3 K

NOTES: Thanks for your request @hypocritic-trash-baby! This sleepover really shows me how difficult it is for me to write something with less than 1.5 K words lmao. But I still had so much fun writing modern!Maegor. Hope you like it!

If you had known that working three hours overtime each evening was a part of the job when you had applied, you would not have taken it – regardless of how damn hot your boss was. 

Maegor was just your type. He was in his mid 40s, incredibly tall and bulky, but not fat, and allowed you to savor your feminine energy, despite you being his junior personal assistant and supposed to assist him. Whenever he was around, you didn’t have to bother opening doors, and if Maegor heard of someone being rude to you, it was only a matter of time until that person would crawl back to apologize. 

And not to talk about the looks he gave you. 

It was thrilling. 

You scarcely saw the violet hue of his eyes whenever you were around him, always dark blown with something you couldn't quite decipher. Even if you weren’t alone with him, he undressed you with his gaze, and it always strayed to your middle, lingering there a bit too long. 

You felt desired, and it was no surprise your confidence got a good boost from it. 

This was the main reason for the skirts of your office attire getting progressively shorter, always straddling that fine line between being appropriate or unfitting. 

It was another endless evening in the office, though this time, you and Maegor were completely alone. All your colleagues had left earlier to attend the birthday party of Maegor’s senior personal assistant, Alys, while she had passed all her tasks over to you. 

… what somehow brought you into the current predicament. 

Your chest was pressed flush against the wall of Maegor’s office. He had ripped your precious heart motif tights between your legs, had pulled your thong to the side and had rucked your skirt up around your waist. 

Maegor towered over your small frame. One of his paw-like hands held your arms locked behind your back, while the other cupped your chin to tilt your head back, forcing you to arch your back to accommodate his cock as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. 

“Waited so fuckin’ long for this,” Maegor grunted into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your flushed skin. “All those short skirts…,” he trailed off, seemingly needing a few seconds to regain his breath. “... you were just beggin’ for me to fuck you, huh?”

Your mouth hung agape, and with his hand tilting your head back to a point it was borderline painful, you weren't quite able to make any more sounds than breathy whines and whimpers. “Y-Yes,” you mewled, the sound straining your throat to the point you had to cough once. 

Maegor seemed to notice your struggle, and even though his hips didn’t slow down, he was generous enough to ease the grip on your face, allowing your head to bow forward. 

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, your name leaving his lips so smoothly, you almost came just hearing it, “takin’ my fuckin’ cock like the good girl you are.” While his hand kept your arms pinned behind your back, his other grabbed your thigh to raise your leg, draping it over his forearm as he braced it on the wall. 

The new angle had you seeing stars, his cock repeatedly attacking the sweet spot inside of you to the point you felt the urge to pee. Every moan hiccuped in your throat each time his hips slammed into yours, his heavy balls slapping against your aching clit, but not once giving you enough stimulation to push you over the edge. 

“That’s it, ‘m gonna get you all nice and ready for me. Gonna fill you up to show everyone you’re mine.” He said it as if he had been waiting for this just as long as you had, if not even longer. “Just knew I had to breed you when you pranced into my office for your job interview.” 

As he bent forward, he rested his forehead against the back of your head, looking down to where his cock was repeatedly disappearing inside of your cunt. “G-God, please, daddy… harder,” you whimpered, pressing your eyes shut. “N-Need you t-to… cum in me.” 

Your words made the animal behind you groan. “That’s what you want, huh? Bein’ fucked full of my cum until you’re pregnant with my child?” 

At this point, your mind was blank, his merciless pounding and words forcing every thought right out of your brain. You whined a string of incoherent words, rambling one ‘yes’ after the other. 

You could feel his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, a sign that let you know he was about to topple over the edge. With a few more thrusts, he fucked into you, until he released a breathy groan that heralded his orgasm. His twitching cock spilled his load deep inside of your cunt, and you squeezed him ever so tightly in response, milking him for every drop. 

While you thought he was done with you as he pulled out, a bit disappointed you didn’t get to come at all, your doubts were quickly pushed aside with his strong arms wrapping around you, turning you in his grasp, and lifting you from the ground. You squealed at the sudden action, more so when the coldness of his desk seeped into the naked flesh of your arse. 

Before you could say anything, he draped your legs over his shoulders and plunged his cock back into your cunt, his seed mixed with your arousal serving as lubricant. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, a threatening edge to his husky voice. “I fuckin’ own you and this sweet cunt of yours. Breedin’ you over and over, until I’ve knocked you up. Want everyone to know that I fuck you.”

His possessiveness intimidated you, but you didn’t complain, not when it meant you got to be fucked like this for the rest of your life. 

“You gonna look so fuckin’ radiant with a swollen belly.” You looked up at him with half lidded eyes, drool dripping from for parted lips – a clear sign that he had most definitely fucked you dumb by now. “Gonna be so, so full of me, pigeon, don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Mae–Da-Daddy, please,” you called out desperately, not caring if it was loud enough to be heard outside of his office, since no one was there to hear it in the first place. Finally, you felt the heat in the pit of your stomach building again, the coil ready to snap at any given moment. “I want it, please. Need it so bad.”

Maegor smirked wickedly at you, and reached between your bodies to press his thumb to your clit, dragging it over the little bud in circles. It had your moans growing in volume as your climax washed over you, your convulsing walls clenching tight enough around Maegor’s thick cock to trigger his second release of the night. Your boss came with a shuddered breath leaving his lips, and by the way his jaw set, you could tell that he was slightly overstimulated already. 

You wanted to prop yourself up on your elbows when he pulled out, but his hand was quick to push you down again. A gasp escaped your throat at the impact, wanting to see just too badly what he was up to when he bowed forwards and brought his hand to your abused cunt. 

The uncomfortable feeling of being overstimulated filled your veins as Maegor dragged a thick finger through your folds, eventually sliding it inside and using it as a plug to stop his seed from oozing out of your cunt, making sure it wasn't fruitless. 

A few seconds passed until he pulled your thong back in place and fixed your skirt, helping you down his desk. When you met his dark blown gaze, you knew the insatiable man in front of you wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 99% texts. established relationships? the most basic plot idea everrrr bc I watched The Idea Of You before watching a playoffs match. PART 1. 3.5k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I had just gotten home and sprawled out on my apartment's couch, letting Netflix autoplay something random after finishing Brooklyn Nine-Nine again. My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024Today, 3:16 PM UNKNOWN: Alley said she tried to call you, text me when you're on the way to the rink.

My phone buzzed again.

Today, 3:42 PM UNKNOWN: Steph?

Today, 4:01 PM UNKNOWN: Are you on your way or not?

I glanced at my phone, seeing another message from the unknown number. Smirking slightly, typing a quick response.

ME: Not Steph, good luck finding your girlfriend.

I tossed my phone aside and settled deeper into the couch, trying to distract myself from the uninspired short story I had been working on. Hours passed, and I still hadn’t made any progress. The story was just another tall tale that could easily end with "and then I woke up," and at this rate, it might.

My phone buzzed again, and I groaned before reaching for it.

Today, 12:19 AM UNKNOWN: Gross. I was looking for my sister.

I sighed, feeling slightly amused.

ME: Okay? Hope you found her. UNKNOWN: I'm sorry to have bothered you, I realise the area code is wrong.

With nothing better to do, I found myself replying, curiosity piqued.

ME: 212, Manhattan. Nice area, rich boy charm. UNKNOWN: Not really rich, or much charm. But boy, yes. 619, where's that? ME: San Diego.

A pause. I put my phone down, trying to focus back on my assignment, but the ping of a new message distracted me.

UNKNOWN: I'm guessing you're just as bored as I am right now. ME: Definitely bored, that is correct. UNKNOWN: So San Diego, what’s keeping you awake that’s so boring? ME: Nothing much, Manhattan. Just assignments. But it’s only 12:30 here, isn’t it 3 AM in NY? UNKNOWN: That would be correct. ME: Then what’s keeping YOU awake? UNKNOWN: Won my hockey game, went to celebrate, and now I’m just sitting here.

I chuckled, intrigued by the late-night conversation.

ME: Hockey? Do you play for a college team or just for fun?

There was a long pause, a stark contrast to the quick replies earlier.

MANHATTAN: Yeah, I do college hockey. ME: Nice, what position? I don’t know LOTS about hockey or anything, but I'm friends with some guys on the SDSU team. MANHATTAN: Haha, right wing. But really, I just rough people up 💪 ME: Oh cool! (no clue what a right wing does) MANHATTAN: Then what position does your boyfriend play?

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the conversation shift.

ME: I never said that word. MANHATTAN: And I'm just checking. You are a girl, right? I’m not about to hit on a 50-year-old man.

I laughed, surprised by his forwardness.

ME: You’re about to hit on me? Are you meant to tell me that? MANHATTAN: Probably not, but I had a few drinks a bit ago so I can blame it on the alcohol if it goes wrong. ME: Yes, I am a girl. MANHATTAN: Wonderful, now that I know you're not trying to lure me into your mother's basement so you can use my skin as your new rug, can I get your name?

I smirked, enjoying the playful tone.

ME: Whoa, never said anything about NOT making a new rug. I kind of like the whole Manhattan & San Diego anonymous thing we have happening. MANHATTAN: Hmm, I guess so. A secret identity might not be the best move though. ME: Are you sure you want to risk it? Might say something regrettable since it’s 4 AM for you now. MANHATTAN: But it's only 1 AM for you, so it’s a risk I’ll take ;)

I smiled, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity.

ME: Exactly how many strangers do you text like this? MANHATTAN: If I say only 1 will that make you feel special? ME: So you just go around contacting random numbers in hopes they’re girls your age so you can try to knock their socks off? MANHATTAN: You catch on fast, San Diego.

I rubbed my eyes, getting off the couch, typing as I walked through my small apartment. I passed my roommate’s bedroom, noticing her snoring with her phone still looping the last TikTok she’d been watching.

As I reached my room, I took off my hoodie and left my phone on my bed, watching for the next message.

ME: So, tell me about your hockey match. MANHATTAN: Well… I actually got ejected so I didn’t do much. ME: Ahh, a ruffian. MANHATTAN: All I did was elbow a guy! ME: In the face? MANHATTAN: No comment. ME: While going really fast on knife shoes? MANHATTAN: I said no comment, San Diego 😠😠 But yes. I may have a little notoriety for… enforcing. ME: How many fights does college hockey have? Oh wow. MANHATTAN: I think that's enough of my sports career. Tell me about you. ME: About me? MANHATTAN: I want to know about you. I mean it, tell me something.

I hesitated, then smiled.

ME: Um, I can't think of anything… I just got into bed. MANHATTAN: Then you should go, San Diego, get some rest. Nice chatting with you (and I'll text you later in the day if that's alright). ME: Bye, Manhattan 👋 (and I wouldn't be opposed).

I placed my phone on the nightstand, my thoughts lingering on the unexpected connection as I drifted off to sleep.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I woke up to a new text message, my groggy eyes struggling to adjust to the brightness of my phone screen.

Wednesday, March 13, 2024today 10:32am MANHATTAN: Morning, San Diego! Did you sleep well?

I smiled at the message, feeling a little flutter in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to actually text me again, but here he was.

ME: Morning! I did, thanks 😊 How about you? Finally got some sleep after your 4 am texting spree? MANHATTAN: Eventually, yeah. Slept in a bit, but now I’m back at it. MANHATTAN: Classes and all that. ME: Fun times… What’s your major? MANHATTAN: Business. It’s alright, but hockey’s the real passion. You? ME: English, hence my very exciting letter-writing assignment 🙄 MANHATTAN: Ah, right. The one you’re totally not procrastinating on. ME: Exactly! I’m just waiting for inspiration to hit. MANHATTAN: Maybe I can help with that.

I raised an eyebrow at the screen, intrigued.

ME: Oh yeah? You’re a secret writing genius, Mr. Hockey? MANHATTAN: Hardly. But I’m good at roughing up boring ideas. Give me a shot. What’s the assignment again? ME: I have to write a long letter. Could be to anyone about anything… It's supposed to show off my writing skills. MANHATTAN: How about a letter to a stranger? Like some random person you met by mistake… 👀

I laughed, seeing where he was going with this.

ME: Sounds like something I’d do. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. MANHATTAN: If you need material, I can keep sending you nonsense texts. You know, for inspiration. ME: Careful, I might just put all your deepest, darkest secrets into my assignment. MANHATTAN: Bold of you to assume I have any secrets, San Diego. ME: Everyone has secrets, Manhattan.

There was a pause before he responded, the three little dots appearing and disappearing a few times. I wondered what he was thinking or if I’d said something to make him hesitate.

MANHATTAN: Guess you’ll have to keep talking to me to find out 😉 ME: Smooth. Real smooth. MANHATTAN: It’s part of my so-called charm. So, what’s your day looking like? ME: Not much, honestly. Maybe I’ll hit the library, try to get some work done. MANHATTAN: Or you could do something fun instead. Life’s too short to spend all day in the library. ME: Fun? What do you suggest? MANHATTAN: Well, if you were in Manhattan, I’d say we go skating. But since you’re all the way over there… What do people even do for fun in San Diego? ME: I could go to the beach… but it’s not really the best weather for it today. MANHATTAN: Rainy? ME: Just cloudy, kind of chilly. The ocean looks a bit gloomy when it’s like this. MANHATTAN: Gloomy beaches, sounds like a whole vibe. Maybe that’s your inspiration. A letter to the ocean or something. ME: You really think a letter to the ocean will get me a passing grade? MANHATTAN: If you write it well enough, why not? Make it all deep and meaningful. Professors eat that stuff up. ME: Haha, I’ll think about it. Anyway, what about you? Any big plans? MANHATTAN: Just practice later, then probably hanging out with the team. Nothing too exciting. ME: Sounds like a solid day. Try not to get ejected this time. MANHATTAN: No promises. Gotta keep my reputation, you know? ME: Right, the tough guy. I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: But I’m a softie at heart, San Diego. Don’t let the hockey fool you. ME: Noted. Maybe I’ll write that in my letter. “To the boy who’s tough on the ice but soft underneath…” MANHATTAN: Now you’re getting it. Make me sound mysterious. ME: Mysterious, huh? I’ll see what I can do.

I was grinning now, the banter flowing easily between us. There was something about this random stranger that made me feel lighter, like maybe today wasn’t going to be so dull after all.

ME: Alright, I should actually get ready if I’m going to do anything productive today. But thanks for the distraction, Manhattan. MANHATTAN: Anytime, San Diego. I’ll text you later? ME: Looking forward to it.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I was curled up on my couch, a mug of tea warming my hands as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone. The past month had flown by, and my unexpected friendship with 'Manhattan' had become a regular part of my routine. We’d been texting nearly every day, sharing snippets of our lives, random thoughts, and plenty of playful banter. But lately, something had shifted—his messages had taken on a more flirty tone, and, honestly, I didn’t mind it.

My phone buzzed, and I smiled when his contact name popped up on the screen.

Friday, April 12, 2024today 8:45pm MANHATTAN: What’s up, San Diego? Missing me yet?

I couldn’t help but grin at his words. He’d been dropping little hints like this more and more, and each time, it sent a little thrill through me.

ME: Why would I miss you? We just talked this morning 😏 MANHATTAN: I don’t know, you tell me. Maybe you’re secretly counting down the hours until you hear from me again. ME: Oh, totally. I’m just sitting here pining away. MANHATTAN: Knew it. You can’t resist my charm. ME: Your ego is something else, you know that? MANHATTAN: Only because you feed it. Anyway, what’s the plan for tonight? Any hot dates?

I felt a little flutter in my chest at the question, even though I knew he was probably just teasing.

ME: Just me, myself, and I tonight. Super exciting. MANHATTAN: That’s a shame. If I were in San Diego, I’d take you out somewhere nice. ME: Oh yeah? Where would you take me, Mr. Big City? MANHATTAN: Somewhere with a view, good food, and even better company. ME: Wow, smooth talker. Do you use this line on all the girls? MANHATTAN: Only the ones who accidentally text me back 😉

I laughed, shaking my head at his response.

ME: Lucky me, I guess. MANHATTAN: I think I’m the lucky one here.

I paused, reading the message again, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. There it was again—that flirty edge that had been creeping into his texts lately. And I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like it.

ME: Is that so? MANHATTAN: Definitely. How many girls are cool enough to joke about turning me into a rug and then end up being someone I actually want to talk to every day? ME: Fair point. I’m one of a kind. MANHATTAN: That you are. So, since I’m not there to take you out, what are you doing to entertain yourself? ME: I’m just relaxing, maybe watching a movie later. Nothing too crazy. MANHATTAN: Sounds cozy. I’d offer to keep you company, but I’m not sure you’re ready to handle my charming self in person. ME: Oh, I’m sure I could handle you just fine. MANHATTAN: Careful, San Diego. I might take that as a challenge.

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves at his boldness. This was definitely new territory, but I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying it.

ME: Maybe I want you to.

There was a pause, and I watched the typing bubble appear and disappear, wondering what was going through his mind. My heart raced in anticipation, unsure of what to expect next. Then, my phone buzzed again—not with a message, but with a photo.

I opened it and stared at the image for a moment, a smile tugging at my lips. He was standing in what looked like a hallway, wearing a worn white T-shirt and a Yankees baseball cap. His hair was a little long, curling out from under the cap, and he had a faint mustache that gave him a laid-back, almost mischievous look. His smile was subtle but warm, like he wasn’t quite sure what to expect either.

MANHATTAN: Figured it’s only fair you see who you’re talking to.

I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. He was more than I’d imagined—there was something so genuine and relaxed about him, and that easy confidence I’d sensed in our conversations was clearly just a part of who he was.

ME: Not bad, Manhattan. Not bad at all. MANHATTAN: Glad you approve. Now, your turn?

I felt a rush of nerves as I realized he was asking for a photo in return. This felt like a big step—more real than anything we’d done before. But there was also something exciting about it, about finally showing him who I was after all this time.

I took a deep breath, then snapped a quick selfie, trying to capture something that felt natural but not too staged. I hesitated only for a second before hitting send, my heart pounding as I waited for his reaction.

ME: Alright, but don’t judge too harshly.

My phone buzzed almost immediately after I sent the photo. I could practically feel my pulse in my ears as I watched the screen, waiting for his response. It didn’t take long.

MANHATTAN: Wow.

I bit my lip, a small smile creeping onto my face. Just one word, but it was enough to make my stomach flip.

ME: "Wow" good, or "wow" bad? MANHATTAN: Definitely good. You’re beautiful, San Diego. I wasn’t prepared for that.

I felt my cheeks heat up at his words. There was something different about receiving a compliment from someone who’d only known me through words until now—someone who hadn’t seen my face but still wanted to know more about me.

ME: You’re just saying that. MANHATTAN: I’m really not. I mean it. I didn’t expect this whole wrong-number thing to turn into something like this, but I’m glad it did. ME: Me too. It’s been… nice, talking to you. Getting to know you. MANHATTAN: More than nice, if you ask me. But now that I’ve seen you, I kind of want to see more of you.

My heart skipped a beat at that. The idea of him wanting more, even though we’d only known each other through these messages, made something flutter inside me.

ME: More of me? How so? MANHATTAN: Not in a creepy way, I promise. Just… more of your thoughts, your stories. I like hearing about your day, what you’re up to. I guess I’m just curious about you. ME: You’re making me blush over here. MANHATTAN: Good. You’ve been doing that to me since day one.

I felt my face heat up even more, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was strange how this random guy from Manhattan, who I’d never even met, could make me feel this way.

ME: Well, if you’re really that curious, ask away. What do you want to know? MANHATTAN: That sounds perfect. What’s your favorite book? ME: That’s like asking a parent to pick their favorite child! How would you feel if I asked you your favorite hockey team? MANHATTAN: New York Rangers. Easy. Number 1 😉 ME: Alright, I'll take your word for it. MANHATTAN: So, tell me something else. What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t yet?

I laughed softly to myself, feeling that familiar warmth from our conversation. The idea of us just getting to know each other like this, little by little, was comforting. It felt safe and exciting all at once.

ME: I’ve always wanted to travel more. There’s a whole world out there, and I’ve only seen a tiny part of it. MANHATTAN: Where’s the first place you’d go? ME: Italy, I think. The food, the history, the art—I want to experience all of it. MANHATTAN: That sounds incredible. I’ve always wanted to see more of Europe, too. ME: Maybe one day we’ll both get there. Until then, I guess we’ll just have to keep texting about it. MANHATTAN: I’m more than okay with that, San Diego. Talking to you is the best part of my day. ME: Same here, Manhattan.

As I set my phone down, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. There was no rush, no pressure—just a growing connection with someone who was quickly becoming more than just a stranger on the other end of a text. And for now, that was more than enough.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

It had been almost a month since the night I saw Manhattan’s face for the first time, and our conversations had only gotten better since then. We talked almost every day, sharing little details about our lives, random thoughts, and sometimes just silence on the other end of the line when we were both too tired to text much. I was surprised by how close I’d grown to him, even without meeting in person.

One afternoon, I got an email from one of my professors that sent my heart racing. My university was offering a select group of students a fully-funded, three-day trip to New York City to attend a special literary conference. The idea was to network, attend workshops, and get a taste of the publishing world in one of the most vibrant cities in the world. And somehow, I’d been chosen.

As soon as I read the email, my mind went straight to Manhattan. The idea of being in the same city as him, even if I wasn’t planning on meeting up, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. But as much as I wanted to share the news with him, a different thought crossed my mind—a surprise. What if I didn’t tell him? What if I showed up in his city and surprised him with the news?

The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. He’d been so open and sweet in our conversations, and I wanted to do something special. It felt like the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard, in a good way.

That evening, when I grabbed my phone to text him, I felt a little mischievous. I decided to keep the New York trip to myself for now.

Tuesday, May 2, 2024today 8:45pm ME: Hey, how’s your day going? MANHATTAN: Not bad, just finished practice. How about you? ME: Same old, same old. Classes, assignments, you know the drill. MANHATTAN: Ah, the glamorous life of a student. Anything exciting on the horizon?

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to spill the beans.

ME: Nothing too crazy. Just trying to survive this semester. MANHATTAN: You’ve got this. I believe in you, San Diego. ME: Thanks, Manhattan. I appreciate that. MANHATTAN: Anytime. So, what’s on your mind? ME: Honestly, just thinking about how much I’d love to get away for a bit. You know, escape the routine. MANHATTAN: I hear you. If you ever find yourself in need of a change of scenery, you know where to find me 😉

I smiled to myself, knowing that in just a few weeks, I would be much closer to him than he realized.

ME: I’ll keep that in mind. MANHATTAN: Good. I’d be happy to play tour guide if you ever made it to the Big Apple. ME: I’ll have to remember that. You seem like you’d be a pretty good tour guide. MANHATTAN: Oh, I am. You’d be in excellent hands.

I chuckled, the idea of actually seeing him in person lingering in the back of my mind. But for now, I decided to keep the surprise to myself.

ME: I’ll bet. Maybe one day I’ll take you up on that offer. MANHATTAN: I hope so. It would be fun.

A sense of anticipation buzzed through me. The thought of being in New York, in his city, and surprising him with my presence was exciting. It was something to look forward to, something just for me, and maybe for him too—when the time was right.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

She Stays (Part 3)

Summary: Could you please write one where student!reader appears in Supernatural universe taken from normal life and becomes an angel? Pairing Sam/reader?

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Sam x student!/angel!reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: Wow this is only how many years late? I know it’s been asked for many times for more of She Stays and here it is! Please enjoy this final part!

________

“Ow,” you heard Dean shout from the kitchen. When you came in he was sucking on his finger. “Cut it,” he mumbled, moving to the sink to run it under some water. He hissed as the cold hurt and you yanked his hand away.

“That needs stitches,” you said, Dean letting you twist his hand around. He smiled as he nodded approvingly.

“Yes it does,” he said, your hand reaching out and pulling a fresh towel to wrap it in. “You’re coming up to speed on the medical side of things,” he said. “Sammy’s been a good teacher.”

“I like when Sam teaches me,” you said, pulling him along to grab a first aid kit. “You on the other hand...”

“I’m an asshole who doesn’t give you an inch of slack, right?” asked Dean, putting on his mentor face. “Sam would go too easy on you in fights and target practice. You know it too.”

“I know, Dean,” you said, fiddling through the bag to find a needle and thread. “I don’t feel like I make any progress with you though. Sam tells me I’m doing a good job at least.”

“Kid,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist before you grabbed the supplies you needed. “You’ve come a long way in two months. I might even let you go on a salt and burn by yourself.”

“Really?” you said, eyes lighting up. 

“No, but only because Sam would kill me,” said Dean, chuckling as he moved your hand to the towel. “I know you can stitch and blood doesn’t bother you. Go ahead and try.”

“No, Dean,” you said, jerking your hand back. He frowned and feigned sorrow.

“Guess I’ll just bleed out since, Fledgy wouldn’t help me,” said Dean, holding up his finger.

“I need Cas,” you said, Dean scowling hard as he hoped onto the counter. The hunting stuff, that wasn’t so bad compared to knowing you had these abilities. You were still too scared to use them without Cas close by, afraid of hurting someone. 

“I trust you,” said Dean, holding out his hand. “I’m in worlds of pain here, Kid. Help a guy out.”

“Dean, I don’t want to,” you said, reaching for the medical bag again. “Angel stuff is not your area, remember, it’s Cas’.”

“I’m also bad cop,” said Dean. “Now try or I’ll work you so hard today so you’ll be too tired to go on your first date with Sammy.”

“Thank dad you’re not my soulmate,” you said, Dean chuckling as you grabbed his wrist. “Just don’t move or anything.” Dean stopped playing as he moved the towel back and you saw it still gushing blood. You thought of how big a cut it was, how it was deep and throbbing. You pictured it in your mind and then how it was supposed to be. 

Dean shut his eyes as you let warmth trickle from your fingers and told your grace to heal him. Dean jerked a little but when you pulled back he was good as new.

“I didn’t tell you about the bruise on my knee,” said Dean, shoving his pants up and seeing the black and blue mark missing.

“I wanted it to heal whatever was wrong with you,” you said a little timid. It felt intimate to heal someone, like you were touching their pain for the briefest of moments.

“I won’t tell Cas if you won’t,” said Dean, hopping off the counter. “Now it’s time for your surprise.”

“Please no more push ups today,” you said, Dean chuckling as he pushed on your shoulders.

“You’re going on your first date with your soulmate tonight, kid,” said Dean. “I’m taking you to the mall to go pick out whatever you want to wear. Then I’ll tell you a bunch of horribly embarrassing stuff about Sam you can bring up at dinner if you feel so inclined.”

“You’re such a good big brother,” you said, Dean already moving the two of you towards the garage.

Dean had surprisingly been a good shopping buddy. You picked out a few simple black dresses but Dean had found one with an open back that you fell in love with. You weren’t sure at first how it would look on you but once you were in a pair of heels even you couldn’t help but think you looked hot.

Leaving your room wearing it that night, knowing it was just you and Sam in the bunker, you felt a little silly. You weren’t going out or anything, it was dinner at home. But Sam had asked if you could wear a dress so your first date wasn’t in flannels and ripped jeans and you wouldn’t deny him that request.

“Hi, Y/N,” said Sam, working over the stove. “Could you grab...” he trailed off when he spun around and saw you. You could feel him light up as he lost the ability to speak.

“Plates?” you asked, Sam nodding, his eyes glued to every part of you. “Sam, I’m not that pretty.”

“You’re gorgeous,” said Sam, a little breathy. “You’re always beautiful but...I’ve never seen you dressed up before.”

“Slight improvement over you sweats and tee from that first day,” you said, stepping beside him to reach plates from the cupboard.

“You’re comparing apples and oranges babe,” said Sam, reaching up and grabbing the too high plates for you, an excuse to get you close dawning on you. “I love both those outfits. Anything really. I can almost see your wings in your back like that.”

“Sam,” you said, looking down shyly. “I don’t have my wings yet.”

“Yes you do,” he said, ignoring the cooking and running a hand up to the back of your neck. “They’re just very small right now,” said Sam, his hand moving lower and lower until his long fingers scrapped over the ridge of your shoulder blade.

You giggled as it tickled, the motion pulling something from you that you hadn’t quite felt before. 

“Beautiful snow white,” said Sam. “They’re right there, just under the skin. I can’t wait to see them when you’re full grown.”

“How do you know what they look like if you can’t see them?” you asked, resting your head on Sam’s shoulder. You would stay like this forever, him touching this vulnerable spot you didn’t know you had, making you tingle and smile all over.

“I just know,” said Sam, tilting your head back so he could cup your cheek. “I’m glad we took it slow. Got to be best friends first before trying this.”

“There’s no trying, this is...” you said, letting your angel side take over for a minute. “Cas told me something, about fledglings.”

“You’re very pure creatures,” said Sam. “It’s okay, Y/N. He told me too.”

“Then you know we can’t get frisky or anything like that at all,” you said, backing away from him, seeing the hurt on his face. “Where I came from, it didn’t matter but here...you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“Spending forever with my soulmate? Yes that does sound awful,” said Sam, taking a step closer wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m not scared, Fledgy. I will never pressure you one way or the other. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a preference for how things will turn out between us.”

“I’m not too young?” you asked, Sam unable to fight back a laugh.

“That’s...that’s what you’ve been worried about?” asked Sam with a smile. “I’m barely older. Fledgy, I love you. Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever stop that. Before you ask, I love you for you, not because of this soulmate thing. I’ve felt that perfect at home feeling with you every second I’m with you since the start, before we touched.”

“Can we eat dinner later?” you asked, the burnt smell of chicken filling your nose. “I’d like to do something with you first.”

“Make me yours, Y/N.”

Dean got home after midnight, only slightly buzzed as he found you and Sam eating pizza on the counter in pajamas.

“How’d the date go you two?” asked Dean, stealing a piece of your leftovers. “Going to be a second one?”

“Yup,” you said, Sam eyeing you up and down.

“Yup,” said Sam, a smirk on his face.

“Is this some couple thing or some angel thing?” asked Dean, watching the both of you. “Or did you two do it finally?”

“All of the above,” you said, Sam smacking your arm playfully. “Hey, someday I’m going to be stronger than you ya know.”

“That’ll be fun in bed,” said Sam, winking as Dean looked ready to gag. “Fledgy’s growing up,” said Sam, holding up a single perfect snow white feather. Just like he’d said it be.

“Angel’s getting her wings, huh? All you two had to do was go at it?” asked Dean, genuinely curious about the fledgling rules as they seemed to differ than a normal angel.

“Actually, it kind of...made me more human in certain areas,” you said, wondering if Dean would be angry. “Mating as a fledgling, with a human, it turns off that angel bit that let’s me...live forever. Normal life expectancy for me now.”

“Makes sense,” said Dean, both you and Sam raising an eyebrow. “Why would Chuck make soulmates that don’t get to be together when it’s all said and done? You two must really like each other to do that.”

“He’s okay,” you said, bumping into Sam’s ribs with a smile.

“It’s not so bad having an angel looking out for me,” said Sam, holding onto your feather like it was precious. 

“So you get anything else new while I was out beside some feathers?” Dean asked, silently reaching out to Sam asking to look at the one in his hand. Sam handed it over carefully as Dean inspected it. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool.”

“Too bad you can’t see them like Sam,” you said, moving your left wing to tickle his arm, still so small it didn’t jut out past your back, Sam smirking and Dean looking on confused.

“Don’t stay up too late having angel sex, we’re going to work on werewolves tomorrow,” said Dean. “Night Sammy. Fledgy.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a full day a head of you,” said Sam. “Make sure to carve in some time for your boyfriend if you can.”

“I can always make time for him,” you said, brushing your wing up against his arm again, making Sam laugh. 

“Let’s go to bed,” said Sam, hopping off the counter and picking you up.

“I’m not tired though,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I said go to bed, not sleep, Fledgy,” said Sam with a wink. “I got too much energy I need to burn off before I even think about curling up with you all night long.”

__________

[celestialatlantis]

Sick Headcanons : would they be good at taking care of a sick, human s/o ?

Characters : Sollux, Gamzee Content warnings ? : This is a sickfic so there's that, but not much, no mentions of vomit either.

Beginning of the end (wow, dramatic)

Day one: you'd start feeling off, this headache with a weight coming and going, your throat would feel a bit dryer than it should. Half a day of ignoring the warnings, a coughing fit hits you like a truck and Instantly you'd be hit with dread as you realised, shit, it's a cold; you don't even know where the hell you're supposed to get medicine now. Deciding to leave early, you were thankful that no one pried or probed you for answers. Then you had locked yourself up in your room, trying to logic out whether any of your teammates could get you the meds you used to buy. Unsure of how to bring that up, you decide to call it quits for the night. Feeling sluggish by the time you went to sleep. Waking up, you felt like rock-bottom personified. Fuck.

Gamzee Makara

Some would expect him to not notice as fast as he would.

"Nah little mama, something was defo bothering your cute thinkpan and this motherfucker would have to be blind to miss it .Honk"

But no he has a vibe-based radar and depending on how far your relationship has progressed it only becomes more attuned, somehow.

(Of course it did, he's red for you. This isn't a joke for him. it's a startling shift of demeanor to the untrained eye whenever his attentiveness shows, but it really shouldn't be.)

Has no clue how humans work. Still he'll ask you first and if you don't know then fuck. He's gonna have to ask Karkat if his human buddies know anything.

Either way, he'll bring a blanket and make a pile so that he can sleep near you in-case you need anything. He doesn't wanna leave you alone when you're sick, it has to feel extra lonely.

..at least he thinks it would be. Thinks. That's all.

He'll keep you company and bring you food, water, if you need Meds he'll try to look it up and see what he can do.

He's surprised when he remembers a few tricks he taught himself, from the times when he got sick while goatdad was away.

Will set a cold wet cloth on your forehead and switches it out when you fall asleep.

If you feel gloomy when sick, or if you just want him to, he'll do whatever he can to make you laugh.

Ask him to jump-scare someone by crawling in the vents and you'll see he's already five steps ahead of you. You can't help almost heckling a laugh for the second time when he gets back through the vents and you see he brought a Jason mask with him to scare the poor soul for your entertainment.

if you chose peace this time, he still has some tricks! He will make you laugh until you feel better, and you trust that based on experience.

He's strangely smooth as he walks around, not stumbling as much, although he seems to be acting like usual on the day when you wake up feeling well.

...you never did see it, but he couldn't let himself stay high while you were sick, it didn't feel right.

It really didn't feel right. He doesn't think it'll be remotely okay ever again, now that he knows you can get sick like this, - but it's okay. Now he can look out for you, like how you do for him.

Sollux Captor

Well shit, there's a chance that he finds out a bit later than Gamzee simply because he makes himself busy.

He'd notice you not replying to his pestering though, so off his chair and out his roo-..respiteblock he goes.

God, he'd inwardly cringe a little when entering your human room because he can sense the sick in the air somehow.

Asks the humans upfront how to take care of a sick person, which is noted to be unusual by Rose but she promises not to pry.

Sollux also stays in your room, brings a husktop, makes a makeshift pile to sleep on and just monitors you until you're feeling better.

Occasionally he'll leave, but mostly to get food, water, so on so forth.

Lets be honest, locking himself in a room and not leaving is not something out of the norm for Sollux. it's not difficult for him to stay.

Lets you whine if you're an insufferable patient type of person, he can feel a bit irritable but he just can't let himself get angry at you while you're sick.

The thought of snapping at you while you're steaming like a stove-top makes him feel like a jerk, and he has a heart in his ribs somewhere even when he acts difficult about it.

This type of vulnerability is new from you, and he won't make you regret not pushing him away.

He'll bring you a controller to play games together if you feel well enough to play. Would let you backseat him while he plays if you can't but still want to do something together.

He'll pester others for your entertainment too, or if you have human friends who could send over something for you he'll ask them for it too. Comfort soup that you can't make here? Consider it done, your friend will bring it in a few hours.

(he doesn't wanna risk fucking up the recipe and give you food poisoning.)

You get to choose the background music when he's doing coding, still, ask for his attention and you will receive it.

He might honestly fix a few things wrong in your room that you didn't know about if he gets bored while you're asleep. Mild things.

Also replaces some of your old chargers with newer and less beat-up ones.

He might even purr (read: buzz) if you pull his heart strings (not that difficult) and say it'll help you sleep, especially if you have a difficulty falling asleep when sick.

All in all, he learns pretty fast. Not that you should tell him that right after you recover, it'd give him an industrial sized ego.

[writtingsomestuff]

imagine for musiala where you work as a physio for bayern, and jamal has a crush on her and all the guys tease him about it

🩷🩷 love you

OMG you're so sweet!!!! 🩷 love you too! I'm very sorry for being late. I've been busy this past month with my job and college.

More than just a crush - Jamal Musiala

Jamal Musiala x fem!reader Warnings: none ig

Jamal was not very expressive with his emotions, he was rather shy and introverted. He was not very communicative about his feelings or thoughts, but these last few days his teammates, and even his coach, observed how often he visited the physio. The new physio, who was the new intern at Bayern Munich. This was one of the greatest opportunities that were ever offered to her; it is true that it made her feel insecure at the beginning as she was going to directly treat professional football players, and that scared her, but after she met them and saw how close they made her feel, she started to feel more comfortable.

Jamal shyly knocked at her door, “come in” he heard her beautiful voice and he blushed. Jamal cursed himself as he did not want her to notice how red he was.

“Hi” he said quietly, and made his way into the room

“Jamal?” She gave him a small smile as she approached the bed where he was going to sit soon, “What happened this time?” She asked with her eyebrow raised, trying not to laugh as she knew that nothing happened to him

“My left foot” Jamal simply said as he pointed at his right foot

“Right or left?” She asked again

Jamal quickly changed his hand to indicate his left as he heavily blushed, even more, “Left, left”

“Alright, I think a soft message will do – you can sit down” She said as she observed the player sitting down on the massage table “How did you get hurt this time?” The same question was asked every time he entered the room, however, their conversations progressed. No one could deny the attraction between both of them, not even them. The players, the whole staff and even the coach could sense it; it was so obvious.

“Müller stepped on my foot,” He said as he started to undo his shoes. She knew he was lying, little did he know that she watched the training and nothing like that happened. She started to watch them after Jamal caught her attention only three days after starting to work. “I tried to wait a bit but still hurts”

“Oh, really?” She asked with a small smirk that intimidated the footballer, he was ready to lay down but remained sat. She crossed her arms and approached him, Jamal felt his stomach drop and his knees tremble; she was too close. He could see her deep (y/c) eyes, her soft skin he wished he could caress, her cute nose and her unique lips. He closed his eyes and let her famous perfume dominate him. She took all her courage together and for the first time in her life, she shoot her shot. “And, when did that happen?” She whispered as she got closer to the man in front of her, “during the small match, or the running session at the beginning?” Jamal looked at her surprised, she watched the training session.

“No… I mean…” He started to say, but nothing came out. “Is just that-” He tried again but nothing, she raised her eyebrows still waiting for a valid excuse. She held her smirk until the situation in front of her caused her to laugh; all that false confidence soon left her body.

Jamal was confused and embarrassed, he could not understand if she was laughing at him or at the situation. 

“I am joking Jamal, I just find funny the excuses you come with to come here” She told him with her normal tone, “You could have just asked, you know?”

“Yeah… I just did not want to bother you.” He said shyly, “I like you a lot. You are so nice and kind with everyone, you are so soft, and also incredibly beautiful. You make me feel nervous when you are around and I feel like I am not worthy of asking you for even a date -” He was interrupted by a pair of soft lips on him, Jamal was in shock but soon continued with the kiss

“A date tonight?” She asked once they separated, and he nodded. “At 9pm it is” She smiled softly. Jamal kissed her cheek softly before he said goodbye and left the room. Without his shoes.

[agoodomenssideblogiguess]

What if Aziraphale wasn't on earth between 1941 and 1967?

What if, the same way Crowley was brought back to Hell in 1827 Aziraphale was recalled to Heaven in 1941?

Hear me out: Aziraphale has been making slow but steady progress within his character arc right? In 1941 at the end of the night, sharing drinks with Crowley in the bookshop, Aziraphale was willing to accept that things are not always black and white and sometimes there is room for shades of grey (albeit very light grey). Compare this to his thinking concerning Elspeth. Aziraphale kept flip flopping back and forth over whether Elspeth's actions were good or bad. He didn't seem to consider her actions were ethically complicated. In his mind they could either be good or bad depending on whatever information came to light in the moment.

It also seems that after the church, the magic trick, and the shades of grey discussion, Crowley and Aziraphale are back on good terms with one another. At the very least, talking and willing to spend time together again. Other than the mention of how easily accessible the holy water is in the church, Crowley doesn't seem to mention or allude to his request again. However, in 1967, it feels like their interactions are strained again. Aside from the awkwardness and tension in their conversation, it's also strange that Crowley is surprised to see Aziraphale in the Bentley (despite being PARKED IN FRONT OF THE BOOKSHOP) and that Aziraphale is only aware of what Crowley is up to through second-hand means “I work in Soho, I hear things." (You don't need to 'hear things' when Crowley is conducting those things IN FRONT OF THE BOOKSHOP)

So what happened? My theory: Aziraphale has been serving out a punishment in Heaven since 1941.

Fandom consensus seems to be that there is a 1941 pt. 3 coming next season and many are hoping for a kiss or something undeniably romantic (I am too ngl). But what if it's actually a scene where Aziraphale gets dragged back up to heaven?

Shax said that 80-90 years ago was the first time that she heard about Crowley and Aziraphale being an item. We can assume that this 80-90 years ago was during Furfur’s failed evidence presentation to Dagon and F(r)iends.

A lot of demons were hanging around in that scene. It wouldn’t surprise me if one of them (or Shax herself) got in touch with an angel in Heaven and let them know about the rumor downstairs of Crowley working with an angel on Earth.

Obviously, Heaven can’t allow that, and who else could it be other than Aziraphale? He’s the only angel down there, so they recall him. Without evidence though, and given that (1) it's a demon's word against an angel's; (2) less than a century and a half ago, Gabriel awarded Aziraphale a medal for his work on earth (bookstore opening cut scene); and (3) as far as we know, Aziraphale hasn’t had any major offenses other than frivolous use of miracles, I don’t think Heaven can really do much. That doesn’t mean they don’t do anything, I just don’t think they do anything like use hellfire on him or make him fall.

Despite the lack of evidence, Heaven still has to make an example out of Aziraphale for getting caught working with a demon. I think whatever punishment Heaven doles out, keeps Aziraphale up in Heaven for a long time.

(Small tangent: If it can be traced back to one event rather than a slow progression over millenia, this rumor is also probably what makes all the archangels be so cruel to Aziraphale (or at least finally gives them permission to act on what they’ve been wanting to do for ages). Maybe this is when they start looking into Aziraphale’s past endeavors and notice Crowley everywhere.)

It could be worse, if there had been evidence, it would have been worse. Still (Aziraphale might think), this is Heaven, 'the side of good', they wouldn't take it too far. He probably received a trial before his punishment began. And yeah the trial is more for show than anything else, but it's not like Hell would have bothered with any of that. Hell would probably delve right into whatever torture they'd decided for punishment. His time spent in Heaven, no matter how intense the punishment, would have been a breeze to tolerate compared to what Hell would do to Crowley. Speaking of which...

By the time Heaven lets Aziraphale back down to Earth, I think he would be a mess of mindless worry. He had just come to terms with his feelings for Crowley after all. Maybe this is why Aziraphale decides to give Crowley the holy water after all. He's had more than enough time in Heaven to realize that as much as he wants to protect Crowley and keep him safe, all that intent means nothing if he's stuck in Heaven because of his own carelessness. In Aziraphale's absence (or destruction), holy water could keep Crowley safe, at least from Hell, even if it is dangerous. Once Aziraphale is back on Earth, when he hears what Crowley was plotting, it probably further cements his decision to give it to him.

If Aziraphale got taken up to Heaven right after the magic show, he probably has no idea if his palming of the polaroid worked for sure. The bookshop is a safe place for Crowley to be away from Hell, but how long will that last? Is it still an embassy with Aziraphale up here in heaven? Is Crowley defenseless against the other demons down there? Did Hell come for Crowley after all even without evidence?

So how long is Aziraphale gone for? We already know that after Crowley got sent back to hell in 1827 and Aziraphale didn’t see him again for “a very long time.” The next meeting we, as an audience, see between them is the holy water request in 1862. So at worst, Crowley's been in Hell for ~30 years. Heaven probably would have taken Aziraphale back for a similar amount of time. And wow look at that, 26 years ago by between 1941 and 1967.

There’s enough ambiguity in the set and dialogue to allow for this length of absence as well. I already wrote a post about how ridiculous Aziraphale is for saying 'I work in Soho I hear things' in 1967 when the whole scene takes place outside the bookshop and how equally ridiculous Crowley is for seeming to think Aziraphale wouldn't notice him prancing around the block plotting to steal from a church. But maybe Crowley conducting his holy water heist business all over Aziraphale's corner of Soho is because as far as he knows Aziraphale isn't around anymore. In my post, I point out that the bookshop is blocked off by the "Striptease" and "Love Shop Cinema" signs but that you can tell it’s the bookshop because of its pillars.

I admitted that it was weird to cover up half the windows, but didn't really have any diegetic explanation for it. Maybe the explanation is that Aziraphale’s bookshop has been abandoned for years. In which case, I think Crowley might be hanging around Soho caring for it and the books, making sure it doesn't get vandalized, protecting it from snooping humans, etc. (tangent: this could also be why Aziraphale says that the bookshop is both of theirs. Maybe the "plenty of use" he said Crowley got out of it was while Aziraphale was away. Maybe Crowley used it as a pseudo base of operations.)

Aziraphale being gone would also explain why, suddenly, 105 years after his initial request, Crowley is plotting to steal holy water from a church. Aziraphale has been gone a long enough time that Crowley is starting to get antsy. Maybe he’s starting to think that Aziraphale is gone for good (not dead, he is an OPTIMIST DAMMIT). I think Crowley is spurred to start the holy water heist because he thinks Aziraphale isn’t going to be assigned to earth any more and whoever they're sending down next is going to be more of a smitey kind of angel. And if Aziraphale isn’t around anymore, then the demon-proof-except-for-Crowley-bookshop/embassy is also likely not going to stop any demons from getting to Crowley whenever they want. If Aziraphale is really not coming back, then Crowley is alone again, on his own side, for the first time since they saved Job's kids. He's gonna really need that insurance now more than ever and unfortunately, he has no one else to rely on. He’s gonna have to procure it himself, even if it’s dangerous and dumb.

Aziraphale's absence (as much as I am loathe to let go of the theory that Aziraphale and Crowley are just being incredibly dramatic idiots) can also explain some of the dialogue from the 1967 scene.

“What are you doing here?” might seem a silly thing to say when Crowley is parked outside of the bookshop, but makes sense if he's reacting to seeing Aziraphale for the first time in years, so damn close it can’t be a dream, right inside the Bentley.

“I work in Soho, I hear things,” is not just a way to give the audience exposition that Crowley wouldn’t need but a way for Aziraphale to explain why he’s there.

The barely concealed desperation in Crowley's voice when wanting to give Aziraphale a lift home (despite being LITERALLY OUTSIDE THE BOOKSHOP), or to take him anywhere he wants, makes a little more sense if he hasn’t seen him in years, wants to catch up, and doesn’t even know where Aziraphale would be staying if not the bookshop.

If this theory is true and Aziraphale has been absent between 1941 and 1967, it could explain why we don't see the bookshop in the 1967 scene even though everything else in the scene points to it taking place on that corner, it would give Aziraphale a reason for deciding to give Crowley the holy water after all even though hes been stubbornly opposed to it for more than a century, and it could also explain why even though he was making a lot of progress character wise to, it felt like he was regressing again.

[hobies-princealbert]

having fontaine as a boyfriend hcs | (this is a long one y'all)

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♤▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♤▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♤▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♤▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♤▪︎

♤ fontaine is a very stoic man. he prefers to be reserved, only speaking a few words at a time when necessary. keep to yourself, you keep yourself alive. that's his motto. that's just life in the glen period.

♤ so everyone in his immediate circle was kinda taken back when you were spotted in the passenger seat of his car, one too many times. no one really hung round taine like except junebug. so no one expected him to actually get a girlfriend. a ting of the side, yes. but a girlfriend....nah.

"yo taine, who's that gurl we see you hangin' 'round? i ain' go hold you she fine asf" one of his 'buddies' straight up ask his boss what everyone's been thinking for weeks.

"my girl" he answered without missing a beat.

"by girl you mean main bitch right? i see you boss. how many more girls you got?"

"just the one. that's all i need" since then everyone in the glen knew you as taine's girl.

♤ if you were wondering how you guys met, it was a simple infatuation turned relationship. he was the regular plug for your brother, and would come by every once in a while. you rarely spoke to each other, just stole glances at each other for a while.

♤ fontaine knew he was only there for business. but he couldn't help actually looking forward to when your brother called, cause that meant he would get to see you again. things slowly progressed to the point he started coming over even when your brother didn't call. now yall are dating.

♤ he is a surprisingly attentive and supportive partner. if you have anything bothering you, you can always lean on him. he's not good on advice, but taine's a great listener and knows how to cheer you up. whether it's a late night drive, or stuffing your face over at his house on the couch, he'll do everything he can to make his girl smile again. and god help anyone makes you upset.

♤ despite his rough exterior and line of work, taine's super gentle with you. he'll open the car door for you, offer you food even if you just ate, and drive you anywhere you need to go, especially at night. he knows the glen ain't safe, he can't risk it especially with his reputation.

♤ he also doesn't mind buying you stuff too. he's not kingpin rich, but he's not broke that's for sure. from a simple drink at the corner store to a pair of gold earrings from the pawn shop. he buys, no debate.

♤ to many, he's an outwardly emotionless man. rarely expresses an emotion besides annoyance and anger. even slick, who's known him since grade school ain't never seen him smile before. but you have. yup you saw fontaine's laugh himself to tears. though the reason wasn't idle, you vividly how he looked when he genuinely smiled.

"t-taine that's not funny, i almost DIED. shut upppp" he snorted as you smacked his arm. you dipped you head on his shoulder in embarrassment cause he was still laughing at you.

"wha' ma- you expect me not to laugh at that shi' you just pulled. calm down you aight" he took back the blunt that nearly choked you out cause you wanted to look bad infront of your boyfriend.

taine knew you weren't that much of a smoker and smoked a blunt every once in a blue moon, or when you really needed one. so it surprised him when you walked over and took the blunt that was resting between his lips and took a drag.

a fast, deep drag, that he knew damn sure your lungs were not prepared for. so when you bursted into a fit of coughs, he couldn't help but laugh his ass off.

don't worry after he cooled down, he rubbed your back and assure you at you were still that baddest bitch on the block. even if you couldn't smoke a blunt.

♤ supppperr touchy. doesn't matter time or place. he has to have his hand resting on you, he just wants to make sure that of he turns his head your still there, and that your real.

♤ he introduced you to junebug once and ever since then he could never shake the thought of making you a mom one day. i know he doesn't look it but he's very family oriented person. he hopes to have one day. but that's a story for another day.

♤ he loves you. he won't out right say it but just by the way he treats you and looks out for you like no other, trust me he simply adores you. that nigga would take a bullet for you cause to him you're absolutely perfect.

[wisteriaiswriting]

OMG HI! I love all your Valorant stories and how you write. Especially ones with deadlock! Gosh she’s so pretty, I never expected her to be quite popular here? Anyways, I was hoping if you could write one with her about enemies to lovers. The plot is completely up to you! Fem reader or Gender neutral reader, I do not mind.

I hope you are doing well and have a good day!

Enemies To Lovers

Words: 602

This in a gender neutral reader as I don't write for fem! But yes, she is a decently popular character here, so don't be afraid to ask for her.

Iselin knew that she shouldn't be getting so worked up and angry at someone like you. Like fuck, she just used her ultimate, which mind you, missed you by a hair. Luckily for you though, it hit your teammate.

But instead of being some level of rational about it, like running away, saving said teammate or try kill her, you laughed. Like some idiot! Who does that, especially when she was still standing right in front of you.

“And you said she would get me, look at you!” Laughing at the flailing cocoon, completely ignoring the highly trained agent slowly approaching. Both of you taking a step back when the body finally fell.

“Maybe now yo–” Finally you shut up, although it was due to Deadlock smacking you in the back of the head with her gun. Knocking you out cold literally in both ways, as you aslo fell face first into the snow.

***

“Look, Brimsto–” “Deadlock. It is final, they’ll remain under your watch until they speak. That’s when we’ll talk again.” When he didn’t continue the conversation she sighed before leaving the office, finding you on the floor with Gekko standing over you. His creatures were either climbing over you or just wandering around.

“Y/N, let’s go.” Without waiting she started walking off. “Hey– what! How’d you know my name!?” If she could get that reaction from you more often, rather than the otherway around, then this time might be worth it.

***

She was so right.

Over the past few months she has managed to learn just a bit more about you, nothing about Kingdom though. But there are times where she’ll forget that that’s why you’re here, remembering when someone eventually asks about the progress.

“So why’d you bring me here?” Looking around only to find no one else around, “Just wanted to get me alone? Look I get it, I’m that irresistible~” Surprised when she threw you a gun, finding it to be the one you specialise in using. “If you’re not going to talk, then you’ll earn your place here.”

“And you’re teaching me,” Scoffing just before your brain finally caught up, “You want me to stay! Oh Iselin–” “Don’t call me that name, you haven’t earned it.” “Haven’t I?” Now that was a true challenge.

***

The clock said it was about 7 in the morning, a few agents finally waking and leaving their room, with the first being Phoenix. Finding you standing at the counter, two smoothies and a small pile of protein and granola bars next to you.

“Phoenix, hey!” Even as you waved he eyed you suspiciously, stepping closer to the table. “Don’t you give me that look, me and Iselin ar–” “Woah woah woah! When were you two that close?”

“If I had to say,” Putting the snacks into your pocket before grabbing your drinks, “A while ago, guess you didn’t notice.” Leaving the room and Phoenix. Heading down the hall towards the gym, using your shoulder to push open the door. Not letting it slam shut as you don’t want to wake any of the agents that just returned, shuttering at the thought of the last time you woke up Viper.

Never again.

“Y/N, are you going to join me or keep staring?” Fuck. You really wanted to, not that she’d let you. “As if, now here.” Handing her the drink and half the bars.

“Are you sure?” Stepping into your path, “You’re not subtle you know?” “Huh?... HEY!” The others could hear her laughter from outside the gym, but no one dared enter or was even bothered to check.

[zinthelost]

The Wellness-Check

So after being drug into this ship entirely against my will, I've finally wrote something after 2 years. I guess it's working out for me, then. So here's a ficlet or a vignette or a wip, I dunno. There is a longer story attached to this in this in my head, but I thought this scene would make a good stand alone. (There's no AO3 entry for this.)

This fic pretends that TDP didn't happen cus that's the world I choose to live in. So the timeline is still progressing to the future we saw in DoFP.

-

“Professor?” Jubilee called as she knocked on his door.

“I don’t think we should bothering him. Either of them,” Kurt put in from the back of the small group in the hallway. “Dr. McCoy said not to-”

“We’re not kids anymore Kurt,” Scott cut in. “Hank might think we are but we’re instructors now. Someone should check on the Professor. Someone other than Magneto. Who might be injured too, right? After that, whatever. That was serious.”

“And the Professor has me completely blocked from his rooms,” Jean added in. “He’s never been so firm about his shields with me.”

“Professor?” Jubilee called again and a projection of the Professor appeared standing beside the door.

“Thank you, Ms Lee. I heard you the first time and I assure you all I am fine, as is Mr. Lehnsherr. You should be focusing on your own classes right now. After last night’s unpleasantness, normalcy will be good for the children. Only my own classes need canceled.”

“If you're fine then why cancel at all? And why not actually come to the door?” Scott asked and turned to glare at the door, as if daring it to open.

“Because I am occupied at the moment and there is no need for me to come to the door,” he replied simply and made to wave them off. “I made my announcement about my classes and I’m telling you now. I’m fine. Go about your day. Thank you for your concern.”

“If you’re hurt from that-”

“I am not, Ms. Gray.”

“It’s just that you’re being really cagey and-” Jubilee started but stopped as footsteps could be heard approaching the other side of the door.

“Well, this is one way to solve the problem…” Charles mumbled, looking exasperated.

The self-appointed wellness-check team stepped back as the door swung open to show... Magneto. In his boxer briefs and nothing else. He positioned himself firmly in the doorway, leaning against it casually. In one motion he effectively blocked them and laid claim to the rooms within and their contents. “How many times does it need to be stated? He’s occupied. And I intend for him to be so for the foreseeable future. Or until we’re both hungry,” he added with a shark's grin. 

“As I said,” Xavier repeated before letting his projection blink out. “Everything is fine.”

“Fine? Just fine?” Magneto asked slyly over his shoulder as he closed the door. “Not the word I’d use,” he growled playfully.

“Erik!” they distantly heard the Professor laughingly admonish through the door as Magneto’s footsteps stalked away back into the rooms.

The small cluster at the door stood there a moment. And a moment more. Before Kurt said weakly. “Oh mein Gott…”

“Well!” Jubilee added with an evil, joyous grin.

“...That would explain the shielding against me.” Jean said as they finally started back down the hallway.

“Hey, Scott. Remember way back when we were all so surprised that the Professor welcomed Magneto to stay at the school for a bit right after that crap with Nurr?” Jubilee chirped.

“Please don’t…”

“And we did not understand why he was so pleased to have him stay here for the Genosha talks?” Kurt tossed in.

Scott groaned.

“And then when he showed up to stay and help with the school and the Professor let him have free reign and we thought that was a stretch given the whole ‘dropped a stadium around the white house’ incident? But her just never left and the Professor was so happy to have him around?” Jean added, knocking in that last nail.

“I think we know why now.” Jubilee said in a sing-song voice, absolutely giddy with this new gossip.

Scott “we’re not kids anymore” Summers just covered his head, making the noise of a dying animal.

“And did you see him?!” she continued, ignoring her suffering teammate. “He’s like fifty, right?”

“I didn’t know a fifty year old guy could look like that. That was…” Jean agreed.

“Totally.”

“Oh come on!” Scott chimed in, breaking free of his torment in the face of this injustice. “He wasn’t that- I mean, he’s old.”

“And tight.” Jubilee couldn’t be deterred. “No wonder all those international incidents could be so easily forgiven. Well done, Professor. That’s a score.”

“This was such a mistake. Why do I ever listen to you all?” Kurt said as they stepped into the kitchen. “We’re back Dr. McCoy and-”

“Oh my God, McCoy! You would not believe what… we just…” even Jubilee’s happy announcement of juicy gossip dwindled out to nothing as they entered the room. At the island Dr. McCoy was quite focused on pouring himself a very tall glass of gin. At 10 am. 

“Um…” 

He said nothing nor acknowledged them as he screwed the cap on and set the bottle down. He then grabbed his glass and turned to leave with it but appeared to think better before turning back to snatch the bottle as well. Both in hand, he walked out without a word.

Jubilee leaned towards the others and loudly “whispered” to the others, “I think he knows.”

“Knows what?” Peter asked zipping in to the fridge and then popping back into vision here and there as he assembled a few sandwiches. 

“The Professor is getting it with Magneto!” Jubilee announced, all her enthusiasm returned.

Shockingly, Peter actually stood still for two whole seconds at that news before shaking his head. “Nope. That’s enough of that conversation.” And then he was gone with his sandwiches, though the bread and everything else was abandoned in his wake.

“Oh not cool… What, is it our job to clean this up? Jerk.”

[jester089]

This might be a strange idea but i was thinking that you could mabye wright the amazing digital circus with a reader who is trying to find a cure for abstracting, but also doing it in private so less people will bother them

It'll be worth it

This doesn't sound at all strange. Thanks for the request.

You had been in the circus a while. Having initially arrived slightly after Ragatha, unlike her you always kept to yourself never really being seen. Everyone just assumed that you loved being alone or hated people so they left you to your devices. A few had guesses on why Caine seemed to spend so much time with you but most just assuming that was just trying to give you some company. It had been a few months since anything of note has happened. No new arrivals, no abstractions. Everyone was starting to get a little on edge which lead to Ragatha checking in on everyone much more then usual. The main reason being that Jax had started being more aggressive with his boredom. It was actually Ragatha who first found out why you never went out, why you always seemed to be in a bad mood. She was stopping by to check on you when she overhead you and Caine celebrating something. Despite her best judgement she eavesdropped and heard you yell something along the lines of "Finally! Progress! It might... It might actually be possible! Caine! My work is paying off!" She didn't know what that meant so she took a moment to get back to normal then knocked on your door asking to come in. You surprisingly let her in so she, with a little hesitance walked into your room and saw an abstract in a glass cage type thing. That's when it clicked in her mind what you had meant. She walked up to you and did her best to keep a steady and calm voice. "Are you finding a way to fix abstraction?" "Yeah. But don't tell anyone. And before you ask, no, I don't want your help. I'm better at working alone." "But... You're letting Caine help you." "Yeah, but only cause he gets me the resources I need when I need em. wouldn't have that abstract contained without him. He has something of value to me, you don't. Now why are you here." She looked a bit hurt at your words but didn't want to intrude. So she saw herself out and let you get back to your work. Once she was out of the room Caine turned to you. "That was awfully rude, you should apologize. You don't usually act like that even when someone is annoying you. What happened?" You sigh and face your desk again getting back to work. Your thankful that you don't have to eat, drink, or sleep. It's sped up your work a lot and is the only real reason you're still healthy. "Caine, don't start this now. I'm the only one here with the skills and will to actually help those who have been lost. I can't afford to feel bad for hurting someone's feelings right now." "Well, you should still apologize when you can." "I will" ~~~~~ It's been. You don't even know. A month, two? It's hard to tell when you never leave your room. Another person has arrived in that time. From what you've heard from Caine her name's Pomni but you can't bring yourself to care not with what has just happened. You... You did it... You're currently sitting in your desk chair staring at the once contained abstract. It's not an abstract anymore though. It's who it was before, a yellowish orange and green wiggle worm. You slowly turn to Caine who is just as surprised as you. "Did I... Did we... A-are they ok? Are they themselves again? They look normal physically, but is their mind in one piece?" After a few more seconds of staring Caine snaps out of it and joins them in the containment cell. You can't hear what their saying but it seems that it's going well? He pokes his head through the wall with a giant smile on his face. "She's ok! Speaking in full sentences and not at all hostile!" You fall back onto your chair again completely taken back. You did it. YOU DID IT! "Ok, ok... This is big. But we need to be careful. It feels wrong but we should keep them contained for a bit longer. We don't know if their going to change back. Until were sure lets just take it slow." ~~~~~

It's a few days later now, you've been checking on them every 10 minutes or so. You also had Caine make it so you two can hear each other through the glass so she has someone to talk to and doesn't lose her mind again. You do one last check, nothing abnormal. You with a happy but tired sigh open it up and let her out. "Well, miss. How are you feeling? Sorry I kept you contained like that I just had to be sure as you are the first person I've been able to help." "Oh it's no trouble, I understand completely. And I'm feeling, great! Wonderful even." You let out a breath more happy to hear that then you had expected. Years of work. And it wasn't for nothing. "Well... Do you wanna meet the others? Sadly the people you knew since have long since abstracted, but I'm going to change that. But for now. We should introduce you to everyone." She doesn't have a mouth but you can tell she's smiling. You motion for her to follow then walk out of your room. For the first time since you've arrived you feel happy. Years and you finally have something to show for all your hard work.

(I enjoyed writing this. Enough to probably want another part. Hope you enjoyed it!)

xoxo, Jester

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I don't think you've ever gone into much detail on the relationships between Alfred and Zee/Jack. Does he care about them or is it more like an an adult sibling in their 30s suddenly having siblings that are in their teens? Nothing in common and generally don't really speak to each other or feel like they're really related at all. Just some other people that his father calls his children that he couldn't care less about?

It's really not very sibling but it's kind of distantly familial. But mostly they interact as friends. Zee has been very sceptical about Alfred pretty much from the get-go. She met him probably in the early Victorian Era and Alfred interpreted her clinging to Uncle Rhys as shyness, but she was low-key cranky and not having it. It's not that she doesn't like him, because she does. Alfred's impossible not to like especially when he's being genuine. But she's not sure she trusts him. He's ambitious and cunning in that bible salesman kind of way.

But he also has had some moments where he recognizes how Europe rejects both of them for being very obviously on the edge of European hegemony. They might ride a lot of human context of whiteness but empire is a very fucked up cosmopolitan thing so "neither you nor I are entirely European. We're western states but never going to completely European and there will always be a barrier there. Don't bother with them, I've already tried and pushed our limits." made for some surprising commonality with them. He's also had his head in her lap hallucinating and begging for Matt, death or Dad when he was low-key dying of malaria or dengue in the South Pacific. She also, perhaps ironically given their power differences, has given him the biggest fuck you anyone ever has by banning his ships from her ports while not only not escaping punishment but still entirely benefiting from the American security apparatus. He saves the majority of his emotional attachment for Matt but they can have a beer and go surfing without major incident. He certainly trusts her more than she trusts him but like it's just more solid than intimate.

Jack's relationship with Alfred is both more and less fraught. Mostly because of gender. Zee has it harder in a lot of ways being afab and feminine presenting most of the time but that's also made her less concerned about masculinity. Especially the sword clashing virility-as-nationalism they came of age in. The stolid, stoic, takes-his-lashes-silently ideal of British manhood that Jack does not suit. He looks at Arthur and he looks at Matt and he doesn't want to be them. His father's rage, Matthew's senseless martyrdom. He wants that respect, the warriors right to respect as it is. But he looks across the Pacific in the late 19th century and early 20th and Alfred is bright, forward-looking friendly and progressive. He has a navy. He has respect. He has a battle scars waged in the name of glamorous things like freedom and democracy and equality. That's an example of masculinity he likes. Alfred standing on the flag ship's prow, at the head of the Great White Fleet announcing him as the next great power kind of beat Jack over the head with a 'oh I'm a baby I need to grow up and get a navy and be a man and earn respect.' And he does pursue those goals and something of Alfred's version of great power projection. But its also not long before Alfred scares the shit out of him too. The costs of his father' ambitions have always been visible but when Alfred's are revealed to Jack they're shocking and frightening. He doesn't want to be his father and he doesn't want to be Alfred. But sometimes, the blunt imperialism of his father is a little easier to handle than the way Alfred operates as an empire of militant idealism. So while he and Alfred appear to get along very well on the surface, and work together very well while they're at it, there's very fundamental differences to who they are and that keeps them friends, not family.

[cartoon-cass]

Absolute Solver's influence

Absolute Solver (AS from here on out) has the ability to possess, so I thought for clarity I'd list all the characters under AS influence, from possession to manipulation. This will be sticking closely to canon so wilder theories like solver Khan, Thad, etc will be left out but feel free to add if you like.

This turned out longer then I thought so it's going under a read more.

Unpatched AS

This would be Uzi, Nori, Cyn and any others that have the world altering powers. Cyn was patient 0 and it's unclear if there's anything left of her or she still has a mind of her own, at this point we can't tell. Uzi and Nori still have their own personalities but AS can over ride them in some cases. I should note Nori, and there for possibly Uzi, have the Patch 2.1.8 "in progress" what this entails is unclear but AS did think Nori was dead and did not try possessing her in episode 7 so take from that what you will.

The humans in Cabin fever labs transferred AS to other drones but most if not all are dead at this point.

Patch 2.1.8

Yeva had this version of AS, they can use the powers but presumably can't be possessed. It's never actually out right stated that that's what the patch does but it's implied. Yeva seemingly long dead unless she's like Nori. Doll likely had this patch too and that's why Tessa/Cyn ASMR mukbanged her core in episode 7.

The Cross patch was also destroyed so unless Nori copied the code while we were not looking this patch is not likely coming back.

Disassembly Drones, aka DDs

So the DD's are difficult but I'll try my best, this is more going into theories then canon but that's Murder Drones for you. We know from episode 5 that the DDs worked in the Elliott Manor before AS came along. During the gala J and V were possessed, and N was tied to a tree, presumably he got possessed too at some point but it's unclear.

Some time between the gala and now they changed to look like how they do today, the main question how and why? We can safely say at this point it's clear AS made the DDs possible using part of the very machines that were used to disassemble drones. We see in the Zombie Drone tapes the disassembly unit has what looks like a DDs arm with the distinct yellow and black stripes. We also see the DDs with there complete look go absolutely nuts on some humans in episode 7 which means they were being possessed then too, unless N secretly really likes eating humans / joking.

J also got possessed and went spooky snake crab in episode 2 after Uzi blew her up.

All this makes it seem that the DDs can be possessed too but then why do they bother manipulating in the show? Why lie and make up a whole story of the company sending them to kill worker drones? It could be that it takes a lot of energy and that was easier but I think were told why in episode 7, where AS pretends to be V to taunt N. "You know you're (N) one of the main reasons I wanted your team to retain your personalities, you always surprised me" their just playing with them, it's more entertaining for them not for any grand plan.

Right after they say that line they hug N making him flashback to what he did to the humans but then we see this

Access denied contact admin "darkXWolf17", which is Uzi! AS was trying to possess N here but couldn't that's why they drag N along until Nori saved him. That's why in episode 1 administration"Cyn" blocked the absolute solver string, they wanted to see what N would do.

This mean N and V can't be possessed as Uzi is there administrator but J and any other DDs out there can, and who was gearing up for a fight at the end of episode 7? J!

So in conclusion, Cyn is the main drone to be possessed. Uzi and Nori can be possessed but it can be limited. Yeva and Doll can't be possessed but are dead and the DDs including J can be possessed but after episode 5 V and N can't be possessed.