#he’ll probably change in the future but for now there’s the boy

[mangozic]

michael distortion what a goofy guy

[slasherscream]

Hi, sorry to bug but I have to yap to someone about this, and I love your ideas. Do you think Nathan Prescott would take his partner’s last name if he ever got married? Would any of the Crazy Ass Boy Gang?

❥ who would take your last name ❥

Nathan Prescott - He would take your last name so quickly it would make your head spin. You’re the first person who’s given meaning to the world family. His sister tried, but when you’re on a sinking ship, there’s only so much you can do. Try too desperately to save the person drowning next to you and you risk going under yourself. So Nathan drowned alone. Until you, that is. Marrying you, becoming part of your family, is absolution for him. He’s not Sean Prescott’s son. He’s Nathan Y/L/N, your husband. 

Jason Dean/JD - It might seem a little strange for JD to be so willing to change his name. His nickname is just his first and last name together, afterall. This was his mother’s last name. But it’s also his father’s. One night he’ll gently wake you , and in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard him use he'll ask you if you’d like him to take your last name. There are so many questions he’s asking, in that one sentence: Do you want me to be yours, unequivocally? Will you bear the weight of that ownership? Am I abandoning my Mother, if I leave her all alone as a Dean, with only him as her company? Will you ask me to take it? Please ask. Please take the weight of the asking away. I can’t abandon her. But I can’t stay, either. Put your arms around him and tell him he’ll make one hell of a Y/L/N.

❥ who would want you to take theirs ❥

Sebastian Valmont - He has genuinely doodled your names together in his journals like a middle schooler. Without a hint of irony: Mr. and Mx. Valmont. Y/N Valmont. Since the moment he fell in love he was planning to marry you and give you his last name. The Valmont name carries weight. It’s legacy. It’s old money. He throws his name around and people fall over themselves to get things done for him. He wants you to throw around his name too. He wants you to embrace every luxury he can give you. One of those luxuries is the power of his family name. Use it.

Billy Loomis - His parent’s marriage failed miserably. He doesn’t even know if his Mother kept the name Loomis. At this point, what does it matter? He fights tooth and nail not to live in the past when he has a future with you to look forward to. So he wants to look forward. He wants to do better than his parents did. He wants to wake up in ten years, twenty, thirty and reach for your hand and know you two succeeded. His family name isn’t doomed to failed promises, runaway spouses, and unfaithfulness. You guys are a better Loomis pair than his parents ever were.

David Mccall - Don’t piss him off. If you even try to hint at wanting to keep your original family name, it will be one of the few times you see David’s mask slip. “What? My name not good enough for you, sweetheart? Marriage is for starting over. It’s for building our lives together, not for hanging onto the past. Thought you loved me.” Every dirty trick he has in his arsenal will be used. Whatever it takes until you give in. Sex. Guilt. Moping. Anger. Don’t push back too hard, or go back and forth on the issue for too long. On your wedding day you’re gonna be Y/N Mccall, come hell or high water. There’s no need for anything drastic to take place just for that to happen, right baby? 

Josh Washington - Josh could never be anything but a Washington. It’s the name he shared with his sisters. It’s the only thing he still shares with his sisters. He used to be able to see them in his face, at least. But now… he’s so different, even that bit of the twins has died. It isn’t right that there are so few Washington's left. Most days Josh isn’t even sure if he’s a Washington anymore. If he’s still Human anymore. But you are. You’re gentle, kind, and so painfully human. Just like the twins were. He might have failed them, hell, he probably failed himself. But he won’t fail you. He has a second chance at a family, and this time you’ll always be safe. 

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Would be so offended if this was even up for debate. Why wouldn’t you be taking his name? Why is it even a discussion? Why does he even have to ask? Will probably say something incredibly mean and unnecessary when you first talk about it. There’s a pit of insecurity in him that no amount of love you can give him will fill. It’s shaped like the love he should have gotten from his father. From his siblings. But the first love he’s ever felt has been yours. But that’s not true for you. You’ve loved people before him. Other people have loved you before he was able to. He needs you to be his. Just his. You’re the only thing in the world that matters that belongs only to him. But there are little pieces of you that will never be just his and it makes him sick. This can fix all that, though! He knows that the security of introducing you as his spouse will be a balm on his soul. He wants tabloids, newspapers, TV, and the radio to all be parroting the words: Y/N Hargreeves. He hopes- no, he knows it will make that hole inside him ache a little less. 

❥ who wants to hyphenate ❥

Jordan Li - Jordan doesn’t want you to give up your identity, who you are, just because you’re marrying them. They also don’t want to change their name, really. Something about not being a Li, despite everything, makes their stomach turn. But marriage is still about coming together. Making two lives so harmonious, so copacetic, that sometimes, if you’re lucky, it becomes one life, shared. Jordan didn’t propose for a long time, afraid of it all going wrong. Of ruining what you have. You helped them believe you two were strong enough to change and grow together. They want your names to reflect that. So, you hyphenate, and you blend, and grow, together. 

Stu Macher - Assumed you would take his last name, but when you pushed back, not sure if you wanted to shirk your family name entirely, Stu had the most relaxed reaction you’ve ever gotten from him about anything. “Okay, why don’t we both change 'em’? We’ll hyphenate! Like Brad Pitt and Angelina, or whatever.” You were expecting a tantrum. Not the easy acceptance that he actually meant for once. The fact is you’re wearing his ring on your finger, and you’re gonna stand in front of all your friends and family and say how much you love him. He’s already won. Why sweat the small stuff? 

Kevin Khatchadourian - Was quite angry when you began to hint at not wanting to change your name. It was the icy, calculated anger that made him dangerous, too. But if you’re marrying him you know how to communicate with him. Reason with him. You don’t want to take his last name because you don’t want to emulate his family. You want to make something of your own with him. You’re not sure how well the words worked until he sets the paperwork down in front of you. Kevin Y/L/N-Khatchadourian. In those small lines of ink, you’ll realize how deep the love Kevin is capable of runs for you. If you squint your eyes those words start to look like: I want us to be different from my parents. He watches you sign the paperwork to change your name, and Kevin has never been more content to give in to one of your demands. Just this once, of course.

A/N: i LOVE a character study question that’s still x reader. you are my favorite person in the world for this one. if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[naviaknell777]

Dyeing/Cutting Your Hair Headcanons!

All ROTTMNT boys x gn reader (romantic+established relationship)

[Requested from Quotev. Requests currently CLOSED] Posted 10/31/23, happy Halloween!

On a whim, you decided it was time to change up your look

You’ve had this hair length and color for a long while, and it was time to change things up for once!

So impulsively, you booked the soonest appointment to your hair salon, deciding that it would be a surprise for your boyfriend as well

You directed the hairdresser the way you wanted your hair, the shade of the color(s), and by the end of it, you could barely recognize the person in the mirror, but you couldn’t be happier to see the new you with your new hair style!

You just hoped your boyfriend would be happy with your new look!!

Raph

Wasn’t expecting the new change, but loved it anyway!

He really doesn't care what you change your hair to, or even if you got a new tattoo or piercing, he just love you

No matter what you look like he loves you either way, but he thinks your new haircut and color is amazing

“Wow! Your new look is awesome, [n/n]!”

“Ooh, and that color is perfect for you too!”

He’ll throw a thumbs up as well, smiling cause he just loves you so much

Will stare at your new hair for a bit, he’s just absorbing the new look

Overall, thinks you look lovely per usual!

Bonus points if you get it dyed red though, he’ll blush a bit more than normal

Leo

He’s a very go-with-the-flow kinda guy, so despite you not impulsively cutting/dyeing your hair before while you two were together, he’s not surprised when you impulsively do it

“Wow babe, you look good!”

“That color is really working for you!”

Will ask for a turn around from you so he can get a 360 of your new hair

Will probably touch your new hair too (unless you two explicitly stated boundaries when it comes to not touching your hair) just because he wants to

Bonus points if you get it dyed blue, will tease you about it specifically, and very much would love your new hair more if you had it dyed his signature color

“What, you love me so much you had to dye your hair blue? Can’t get me out of your head, huh?”

Mikey

Surprised and screamed cause he thinks you look amazing (not that you don’t normally look amazing, but you know what I mean)

Not actually sad he didn’t know about it but would’ve been happier to know about it at least right before you got it cut and dyed

“Ohmigosh [n/n]! Why didn’t you tell me?” He pouts “I so would’ve joined you or helped you pick out a shade of color!”

“Not that you don’t look amazing, because you do! I just like doing things with you!”

Would appreciate to know and go with you next time because he loves spending time with you and wants to experience it with you in the future if/when you get it cut/dyed again

Bonus points if you dye it orange, will fond over it

“Aww and your hair is orange now too! I love it so much!”

Donnie

Would definitely like to know ahead of time

He wanted to be mentally prepared for the new look

He likes to be an organized and somewhat prepared guy, so when you come to the lair with a new haircut and color he has to do a bit of a double take

Tries to be so supportive though

“W-wow, [y/n], your hair-“ and he smiles a bit awkwardly

It’s not that he’s mad at you, just a bit disappointed he didn’t know ahead of time

He still thinks you look handsome and beautiful and loves you no matter what! Just wants to know changes like this ahead of time is all

“You look good!”

Bonus points if you dye it purple, likes that you (probably) thought of him when choosing that color, will tease you lovingly like Leo

“Purple suits you well, [y/n].” And he smirks

Overall loves your new look, even if it did take him by surprise at first!

——

All Rights Reserved ©️NaviaKnell777 2023

[goldenseresinretriever]

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 1

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (potentially eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“And that’s everything,” Pete says with a grin and a shrug of his shoulders as you approach the board room. He’s been giving you a tour of the facilities since it’s your first day as the team physician of the newly formed San Diego Daggers. You were still pinching yourself. Two weeks ago you’d been unemployed and spending every single waking moment stressing about what would happen once you finished your fellowship at the Cedars-Sinai Kerlan-Jobe Institute when you’d quite literally crashed into the opportunity of a lifetime when hockey legend Pete “Maverick” Mitchell had driven his motorcycle in front of your car at a gas station. Turns out he was the newly appointed head coach of the San Diego Daggers hockey team and when you’d let slip that working for a hockey team was your dream he’d offered you an interview on the spot.

Since then, you’d found out that he hadn’t been kidding when he said that wasn’t his department as the general manager, Beau Simpson had exasperatedly informed you during your interview. Thankfully Mr. Simpson had been impressed with your resume and had offered you the most level-headed response to your situation you’d received in the three months since the incident occurred. You’d taken a chance in trusting him with the details of what happened but you knew it was better that he heard it from you before someone else could twist the story with their own opinion and interpretation of the events. The two of you had struck an agreement that stipulated the basic work contract to account for your situation, but the job was yours.

Now here you were, on your first day, being shown around your new place of work. “Now I want to introduce you to the newest member of our team, he’s going to be our team captain, so it’s imperative that you two get acquainted as soon as possible so you can start organizing physicals for the team. The ink’s quite literally still drying on his contract, but I think he’ll be the perfect man for the job.” You nod along, as you’ve been for the better part of the last hour. “By the way, kiddo, I never got the chance to ask. You said the Ducks were your second favorite team, who’s your first?” His eyes twinkle with humor as you chuckle, embarrassed as you remember your first interaction.

“The Dallas Stars,” you answer. “I’ve been a fan of them for as long as I can remember.” Oh but you can remember, you remember the day your loyalties shifted from the childhood love of Anaheim you’d shared with your dad, but you’ve embarrassed yourself enough in front of Pete Mitchell for a lifetime, or so you think.

His grin widens and his eyes light up conspiratorially as he pushes the door to the conference room open. “Well then, kid, I think the two of you are going to get along just fine.” You blink as your eyes adjust to the change from the dimmer ambient hallway lights to the bright LEDs in the conference room, just as the seat closest to the door turns to reveal its occupant. “Jake! I want you to meet our brand new team physician. Kiddo, this is Jake.”

Jake Seresin. Jake motherfucking Seresin, Centre and Captain of the Dallas Stars, and the very reason you became a Stars fan in the first place, stands from the chair and offers you his hand. “Hey there, it’s nice to meet you, ma’am” His grin is wide and just as blinding as it is on TV, but it doesn’t touch the storm in his eyes. The piercing green that’s always warm, inviting, and jovial now looks more like a raging sea. Thankfully your professionalism manages to rush back to your brain in a timely manner and you take his hand, feeling the calluses on his palm scrape the smooth skin of yours.

“H-Hi,” you introduce yourself with the eloquence of a deep sea fish, as he releases your hand before your curiosity gets the better of you. “I thought you played for the Stars.” It’s harmless enough, it’s not like you’ve divulged anything personal but it feels like you’ve revealed yourself as some kind of unprofessional super fan in front of someone who is first and foremost your colleague and your patient for God’s sake.

He shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck as he deliberates how to answer your question before he settles on, “I did, until,” he breaks eye contact to check the watch on his wrist. “38 hours ago.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage as your brain descends into chaos. “Well, I guess since I signed about a week ago, welcome to the team.” He lets out a laugh at that and you watch some of the weight lift off his shoulders. Your mind is racing but the sensible part of it reminds you that this is your place of work, he’s just a client, regardless of who he is.

“So Mr. Seresin, or do you prefer Captain Seresin? When would be a good time to meet and go over scheduling the team physicals? I know we’re in the off-season right now but I want to get all the routine procedures done as soon as possible and adjust training as needed based on that.” He chuckles and it puts you at ease instantly.

“Just Jake is fine, ma’am. You’re the one in charge here, remember? As for the physicals, I agree that we should get those out of the way first and foremost. Scheduling that is up to our trainers, however, not me.”

“No, right of course, but as Captain would you be willing to go first to kind of show a united front? If I’m going to properly and efficiently take care of your team, trust is key.” You almost miss the bob of his Adam’s apple as he hesitates.

“Sure thing, sign me up.”

“Seresin.” The door opens behind you as Mr. Simpson enters the board room. “And our new physician, good to see you made it.” You nod in acknowledgment. “Seresin we’re glad to have you here, you’re a last-minute catch, but that does mean we need to get you up to speed as soon as possible.”

“Of course, sir.” Jake’s back to his charismatic self for his manager, the troubled man you’d met just minutes ago gone. “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.” He pipes up as you make your way towards the door, your dismissal unspoken.

You turn back to give him a smile, “Nice to meet you too, Jake.” You’ve barely made it halfway down the hallway when the door opens again and Mav is jogging after you, a shit-eating grin creeping across his face.

“So, what do you think?” He’s ecstatic.

“Mav,… I mean this with all the grace of a professional, but how the fuck did you manage to get Jake Seresin?” He laughs, loud and long before leaning in conspiratorially.

“We didn’t. He came to us.” You’re shell-shocked, to say the least.

You open and close your mouth without saying anything for a few seconds before you remember your last conversation. “Mav, about what I said to you earlier,” He grins. “I said that to you as a friend, not a coworker and I’d really appreciate it if you kept that to yourself, for the sake of my professionalism, please. Jake’s my coworker and patient, and anything else would affect his ability to trust me as his physician.” His eyes twinkle as he winks.

“Your secret is safe with me, kiddo. I appreciate your dedication to the job from the get-go. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you asked for his autograph, though.” You can’t fight the flush that creeps across your cheeks. He pats your back gently. “Don’t worry kiddo, any girl in the world would lose their head a bit if they had to work with that boy. I played with plenty of guys just like him in my day.”

“Mav, you were a guy like him in your day.” Mav laughs again as you reach your office.

“Good luck, kid. Break a leg!” He leaves with a wave and you sigh, pushing into the room.

The moment the door swings shut, you turn to press your forehead against the hardwood, letting out a breath you’ve been holding since you entered the board room. You’re fucked, totally completely, royally fucked. You’ve never struggled with professionalism in the workplace. Your entire patient base was made up of multimillion-dollar athletes, any awkwardness due to this had been a hurdle you’d long since crossed. But this? This wasn’t just close to home in the way that you were a fan of the sport your patient played, you were a fan of the player period.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin had had a successful enough career long before he came to play for the Dallas Stars but it was during his first season with them that he first caught your eye. Sure, every girl who knew anything about hockey salivated over the Ken doll on skates but that wasn’t what had drawn you to him. You’d been a hockey fan long enough to know that there were plenty of pretty faces on the ice and sooner or later his dazzling smile would be short a few perfect teeth. Plus, they weren’t there to be pretty, they were there because they could play, and damn if Jake wasn’t the whole package because he was a monster on the ice. He hadn’t earned the nickname “Hangman” for nothing.

It was Dallas vs. Anaheim and Anaheim had the game in the bag, or so you thought. It was the third period, the score was 6-2 in favor of Anaheim. Dallas had managed to take a single point each period, saving themselves from a total wipeout but a four-point difference with nine minutes left in the game had most people switching channels, safe with the knowledge that the match was decided. Then Dallas made a game-changing switch, they switched their centre, just their centre. You’d written it off the same way as everyone else, as a last-ditch effort by Dallas to change the flow of the game in any way they could, but it was anything but.

The moment Jake Seresin hit the ice, the energy in the entire arena shifted, as if they knew what was coming somehow. That was the thing about Jake Seresin you learned that day, he played every second he was on the ice like it was the last second of a tied game. He was a game maker. In the next nine minutes, not only did Dallas tie the score, making up the four points that they trailed, but they sunk a final, victory point with three seconds left on the clock. Of those five points, only two were scored directly by Jake, including the final one, but it was a unanimous opinion that Jake was the reason behind the win. He knew how to move a puck, he knew how to support his teammates while finding shots through a jungle of defense like an octopus in a wall of rock. You weren’t sure if you breathed at all during those nine minutes, and when it was finally over, you’d sat back, too stunned to speak, eyes wide and mouth parted. You’d been brought back to earth by your dad’s laugh from next to you as he gave you a wry smile, “And that’s the moment you’ll fall in love with hockey.” It was something he’d told you once when you asked how he’d come to love the sport as much as he did, a love he’d passed down to you. For him it was an Anaheim game that he was passively watching in a hotel room, half asleep and channel surfing, looking for something to lull him to sleep. For you, you’d always thought you loved hockey, you’d been watching Anaheim games with your dad for as long as you could remember, but it wasn’t until that night that you saw Jake Seresin play for the first time that you realized that while you loved hockey, you couldn’t have been in love with hockey because nothing had ever felt like this.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by a firm rapping on the door you’re still leaning your forehead against. You straighten with a soft groan before opening the door to reveal an unfamiliar woman on the other side. Compared to your forest green scrubs and white coat, she’s a vision in a powder pink suit, her hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun at the base of her neck, and a pair thick of black glasses propped on her head. She extends a perfectly manicured hand to you, her other one occupied with a pink leather folio that matches her suit and nails, introducing herself. “Everyone here calls me Zamboni, though, or just Zam.”

“Can… can I ask why?” You’re a little intimidated by her, the color pink has never made you feel mildly terrified before but there’s a first time for everything.

She laughs at that, a rich, real sound. “I got it at my first unofficial gig, they said it was because I smooth things over, just like a Zamboni smoothes the ice.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “College guys think they are so funny, but the name stuck.” She shrugs. “I like to think it’s because I’m good at my job. I’m the PR rep for the team.”

“It’s nice to meet you Zam.” You weigh your options quickly before deciding to dive right in. “Actually, I have a question I was hoping you could answer.” Zam raises an eyebrow at the way your voice drops but nods to encourage you to continue. “What’s Jake Seresin doing here?” Both eyebrows are raised now. She lets out a defeated huff, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration.

“You know, I pride myself on knowing every aspect of my job inside out, and that includes my players, but that’s one question that even I don’t have the answer to, and not for lack of trying. All I know is that Seresin reached out to Beau two nights ago and showed up here this morning. No private plane, no nothing, the man took a commercial red eye. It does make you wonder,

what exactly had him running like hell to get out of Dallas, but as far as concrete answers go, I’m all out.” She frowns. “Any particular reason why you ask? Do you know something?”

You shake your head, disappointedly. “Nope, but I watch enough hockey on my own time to know he could be anywhere and why he’s here makes little to no sense. I know he and Machado are friends but that doesn’t seem like enough to pass up re-signing to Dallas, and definitely doesn’t explain why he decided to move in less than 48 hours.”

“Just one of life’s mysteries.” An unfamiliar voice interrupts. You both turn to see another woman approach. “I’m Natasha Trace, the head equipment manager.” You shake her outstretched hand as you look over the dark-haired woman. She has a strong grip and you feel the barely there brush of calluses on her hand as if they’ve long faded but stubbornly remained in some places. “If it helps, Javy didn’t know he was coming here either, he’s just as surprised as the rest of us.” Her eyes darken sadly. “Honestly, he’s more pissed than excited right now.”

“Are you two close?” You ask and she’s smiling again.

“Yeah, we went to high school together. He’s actually the reason I have this job, he recommended it to me.”

“And by proxy you know Jake, then?” She shrugs nonchalantly.

“He’s Javy’s best friend, but honestly we don’t see enough of each other to really say I know Jake. Most of what I know about him is what I hear from Javy. I could count on one hand the number of times we’d met before this.” She claps her hands, signaling the end of the conversation. “As much as I enjoy gossiping like old hens with both of you, I did actually come here for a reason. Mav wants to introduce you to the rest of the team so you can start getting into their physicals.” With that, Zam is back in professional mode, straightening from where she’s been leaning on the doorframe to follow the two of you as you do your best to memorize the route Natasha is taking. When you enter the rink, the boys are mid-practice, zipping around on the ice while Maverick watches from the sidelines, taking notes. He turns at the click of Zam’s heels as your group approaches.

“Ladies, welcome! Kiddo, glad to see you’re getting assimilated!” He turns back to the ice, blowing his whistle to signal the guys over to the bench. Your nose is hit with the familiar smell of sweaty athletes as they collect on the ice in front of Mav, removing their helmets and shaking out their name hair. A few swing over the boards to take a seat on the bench, grabbing water bottles as slowly all eyes come to rest on you. You glance over the group, clocking familiar faces. Javy Machado, a right winger, here from the San Jose Sharks and Jake Seresin’s former teammate on the Arizona Coyotes. Left winger, Bradley Bradshaw, the oldest player on the team, from the Philadelphia Flyers. The defensive duo, Reuben Fitch and Mickey Garcia from the New Jersey Devils. Rookie goalie Bob Floyd, whose acquisition has been turning a lot of heads. And of course, Jake Seresin, former captain and centre for the Dallas Stars.

Mav claps a hand on your shoulder. “Gentlemen, this is our new team physician. I’m gonna let her take the floor.” He steps back at that to linger with Natasha and Zam as twenty pairs of eyes focus on you.

You introduce yourself and put on your best smile as the boys chorus back their own greetings. “My first order of business is going to be scheduling your physicals. I want to get as much of the basics out of the way early so we can catch any hidden injuries or undiagnosed conditions as soon as possible so that we can adjust anything we need to have you ready and fighting fit when the season starts in two months.” You almost miss the way Jake shifts uncomfortably at your mention of hidden injuries and undiagnosed conditions and you store away that tidbit for later. “I look forward to working with all of you this season and I want you to know that my priority is your health and safety, and if we want to make the best of our relationship then we need to trust each other so I hope I can earn your trust.” You make eye contact with Jake as you say this. His eyes are back to the stormy seas from this morning and you hope he can trust you enough to tell you what’s really going on so you can help. Just as you’re about to wrap up you remember something. “One last thing! I want to clearly emphasize that this physical will not, and I repeat, will not include any reason for you to be naked. I’m a licensed general physician but this physical doesn’t involve checking your testicles or your prostate unless a specific condition makes it necessary. So please, please keep your underwear on for both our benefit. I don’t want to see any dicks in my exam room, am I clear?” A chorus of laughs and yes ma’am’s bounce off the walls. When you turn to excuse yourself, Mav is grinning too. You decide to get this out ahead of time. “Mav, we need to discuss a good time for me to start the physicals.”

He nods before shrugging. “We’re done here for a bit so If you’re free to start now, you can start taking them one by one.” You nod, turning back to the boys on the ice who are slowly trudging off the ice at his words. “Captain, you’re up.”

Jake stiffens before his mask is back on. “Sure thing, ma’am, I’ll be right there as soon as I hit the showers.” You nod in return and head back to your office to prepare yourself. This is about to be a lesson in professionalism.

[be-my-ally]

I wouldn't tell you no lie

innocent reader x elvis request.

pairing: afab!reader x elvis (’68-71 elvis described; as in the pics below)

warning: 18+, 18+, innocence kink, first times - reader gives elvis a handjob - with the promise of more in the future, and is kissed for the first time. 

summary: innocent reader has been very sheltered but is now on tour with Elvis, she’s never been allowed to even look at the body of a man but accidentally walks in on Elvis changing and has questions - questions that Elvis is only too happy to answer. 

wc: 4.2k

I watched girl happy three times while writing this for absolutely no reason; title is from ‘cross my heart and hope to die’ so that’s probably suggested listening. 

also while I have everyone's attention I just wanted to say thank u to everyone for being so lovely + supportive with my silly little fics + a thank u for 200 followers!!!

You nod at Sonny on the way in, who offers you a slightly mischievous grin in response as you walk past. You wonder what kind of set-up you’re walking into; the boys, well, men, but boys, were known for their practical jokes and you had been jumped out at more than a fair few times. So you’re tense when you walk into the hotel room — Elvis was expecting you, or so you thought, and you were surprised when you walk in and you’re the only one in there, not even Elvis to be seen. But as you look around, ducking to check under the bed just in case he was planning on trying to scare you, you suddenly hear his voice from the bathroom, singing in the shower. It’s gorgeous, and not at all rushed, you can hear him repeating verses and changing the scale and pitch as he goes. You consider if you should just leave at this point; you’d only wanted him for a quick question about the arrangements for tonight but who knows how long he’ll be now. But then you think how weird it would be for him to know you were here but had gone before you had the chance to talk to him. So instead of leaving you plop yourself down on one of the couches to wait. 

You glance around the room — it’s a lot nicer than yours, and although it’s probably one of the smaller rooms that he’d been put in recently it’s still pretty large. Just the one room rather than a suite; a large king bed and dressing area on one side of the room along with a tv facing the bed, and a full living area — complete with couches and a coffee table at the other end. You’re considering what to tell your mama when she rings this evening; since joining the tour you’ve had to …amend some of your tales of your days to her, knowing that some of the antics that go on would be enough for her to demand you come home immediately if she were to find out. But you’re not a good liar - you have to plan what to say to her. 

Elvis walks out of his bathroom, towel slung low around his hips. You gape at him from the couch, twisting to peer over the back at him; looking at his still damp and glistening chest and arms, his hair wet and slicked back, off of his face, pink from the heat of the shower — which you could feel in the steam that escaped through the open door when he emerged. There didn’t seem to be much point to the towel as barely a moment later he was throwing it aside, peering in the closet to find his clothes while completely nude. He doesn’t notice you sat on the couch waiting for him, and you hesitate to draw attention to yourself now - you’re blushing and mortified at what you’ve just seen; the behind of a man’s naked body. Wet and pink, the movement of his muscles as he bent over; his ass — the only reference point you had was in comparison with your own; his looked much firmer and solid, or with statues you’d seen in textbooks; his looked softer, but not too dissimilar. You’re trying not to stare, you know you shouldn’t even be looking, but you also can’t help that your curiosity is getting the better of you. 

You’re mentally debating what to do and what your options are when he turns around again, and before he spots you, you spot it, hanging gently between his legs and you can’t hold back your gasp. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen one in real life, even the anatomical sketches in textbooks often being taken out of your hands by your over-zealous mother, it wasn’t something girls like you needed to worry about until you were married; she wasn’t risking that you were going to become one of those outrageous free-love hippy types. You struggle to even name it in your head, euphemisms coming to the forefront and your brain has to scream — be an adult, it’s just a penis, at you as you struggle to think beyond childish words. Despite this thought running through your head a glance is all you’re allowed - your gasp having alerted him to your presence. Immediately his head swings up to look at who’s in his room. He goes through phases of extreme body shyness and body confidence  - often depending on his weight, but at the moment he’s fit and healthy and keen to show off. So he doesn’t immediately go to cover up, but you can see his brain whirring thinking of the insult he’s about to shout at whoever he thinks it was intruding; Jerry maybe, he’s never far away, or Sonny from outside.  However, upon seeing it’s you he swears, grabbing the towel off the floor and wrapping it around his hips again. You know you should have immediately looked away, but you couldn’t help but continue to stare as he moves, as it moves with him, until he’s all covered up again. 

“Goddamn, honey, give a man a heart attack sat all quiet like a mouse there like that.” His voice is quiet, but amused, and pulls you away from where you’re still staring at his now towel-covered crotch. You stutter through an apology; 

“Oh, uh, oh, I’m so sorry, oh gosh - sorry! So sorry!” He laughs, and you’re distracted enough now to look at his face. It doesn’t help a whole lot, you’ve always liked how he looks - you’ve always thought he had kind eyes and a smile that made your tummy tingle but with how he looks at the moment, his cheekbones so prominent and his sideburns starting to accentuate his face even more you find yourself thinking that you like this iteration of him an awful lot; perhaps the strange feelings from your look at him a moment ago have preoccupied your mind too much - you’re suddenly unable to think of much else but how handsome he looks. You blush even harder than you were before - you can feel the heat rising off of your cheeks. 

“Give me a second hon,” and he disappears into the bathroom with his clothes again, you’re shielding your eyes when he comes back, both out of embarrassment and concern that something similar may happen again, “S’ok baby, I’m decent enough now.” He smiles at you, and you lower your hands to see that he was, indeed, now fully dressed.  He’s put on one of the drawstring shirts he’s been so fond of recently, the top loose and open - the hard line of his chest peeking out of the large open collar. But you were at least used to the sight of that; it had shocked you at first, but now you’ve been around for a few weeks you had grown used to it. He’s buckling a pretty gaudy belt on top of his fitted, slightly flared, black trousers as he walks out. He’s acting as if nothing had happened - continuing to go about his business putting on cologne and his jewellery, necklaces now hanging down in the open collar. He looks back at you through the mirror on the dressing table that was at an angle, allowing him to see you still peering over the back of the sofa. 

“What did you need honey?” You’ve always found yourself a little giggly around him, a little desperate for his attention and you’ve always understood that was partly because he was so attractive, and partly the force of his personality. But now, knowing what he looks like underneath his clothes has, for some reason, made your mouth go dry as you look at him. You try to recall the reason you were there but it had completely escaped you, and rather than answer his question you had to ask a burning one of your own -

“I came to see if you, if you wanted - El, what - what was that … between your legs?” He pauses. Staring back at you in the mirror, 

“What do you mean? It was my dick baby,” You gasp, but you’re pleased to know that your earlier thoughts had been correct. 

“Is that - that’s what they look like?” He’s shocked and he turns around to face you, properly, but he’s also smiling like he’s just heard an amusing joke.

“Well, some of ‘em are quite a lot smaller, but yeah it’s pretty typical looking, for… for an unc-, no yeah it’s pretty typical.” He looks down, and you can see him thinking about something but he doesn’t expand any further, crossing his arms and leaning against the table. 

“So, do you not… you don’t have a kitty like I do down there?” He frowns at you, shaking his head, he’d thought you were playing with him a moment ago, but now he’s not too sure;  “Like at all?” He laughs, 

“No honey, no, uh that’s uh - that’s how boys and girls are different - you got a set of holes in your kitty, and we got… we got penises and uh, balls.” You nod, you already knew that, of course, but you hadn’t known it was just one or the other - you’d always assumed that men just had, extra equipment to yours.  You start to think of things to say to change the subject, satisfied to finally understand the difference between men and women, before a thought pops into your head that you have to ask while you have him in front of you and willing to tell you things others never did. You wrinkle your nose asking; 

“Well then … how d’ya pee?” He laughs, coming towards you and sits down on the couch next to you while he thinks of how to respond, 

“What do you me- do you think you pee out of the same place?” You nod, of course. He laughs at you, his eyes crinkling as he shakes his head,

“Um no sweetheart, You uh, you have a separate little hole; gonna have to get you a mirror and have you take a look baby - but I, well I pee out of a little slit at the head.” You don’t believe him — you know where you pee from, and it’s the same place that gets wet every now and again; otherwise what is that? But you’re too distracted by his own anatomy. 

“Like - like a mouth?” You’re aghast, dreaming up a horrifying looking image. But he laughs, 

“No, no - not, not quite like that.” 

“Well then I don’t know what you mean, I’m sorry, I just, I just can’t picture it.” His gears are turning in his head and he stays silent for a moment before saying, 

“Would it be easier to understand if I showed you?” On the one hand your mother had always told you not be alone, or naked with a boy unless you were going to get married, so you should say no. On the other though you were so curious. And really this seemed like information you should know as an adult! So you nod, 

“Oh would you!” You watch as he swallows, his adams apple bobbing - almost as if he was nervous, but he couldn’t possibly be. He starts to unbutton the trousers he’d just a moment put on. He pauses when they’re undone, as if he’s considering if he should take them all the way off. In the end you stare as he shoves them down to his knees, stops and then steps all the way out. You get to look over at him again, this time much closer.

When you reach out with one gentle, tentative hand and brush your fingers over it, he jumps as if he’d been hurt and you pull your hand back as if you’d been burnt. “No, no, baby it’s fine - go on, you can touch it.” You don’t want to hurt him, just for the sake of satisfying your curiosity, but when you looked up at him he’d smiled encouragingly at you, reassuring you enough that you reach out again. You gently skim your fingertips over it again, you’re fascinated by how it seems a darker colour than the rest of his skin, the strange feel of the simultaneously silky but wrinkled and soft but taut skin. You gently wrap your hand around it, feeling the strange mix of hard and soft and its heated temperature. You squeeze, gently, and brush a finger over the head. Where you can see, just behind, a little wrinkle of skin has left it exposed and shiny where it was half-covered before. Elvis had been desperately trying to remain silent and still but with that move he can’t and he lets out a high-pitched moan. You snatch your hand back, he’d sounded wounded. Apologising profusely, 

“Sorry, sorry - Elvis, sorry, I didn’t know, didn’t know that would hurt you, sorry! I, uh, I’m so sorry you can, you can put your trousers back -” He interrupts you, bright red and blushing, but his pupils blown wide and lips red with where he’d bitten them, as he quickly attempts to reassure you; 

“No no, no I’m fine darling. It feels too good s’all. It’s just, you’re making me feel so good baby, so good.” You frown, uncertain - it doesn’t look like it’s feeling good, it looks hot and sore to you. “I promise, sweet thing, promise - you can put your hand back on, if you - do you want, want me to show you how to make me feel really good?” You’re still not sure, and he continues, pleading, “C’mon baby, my pretty little yittle baby - you, you know you are right? My baby, my little girl, you gonna make me so happy?” He looks down at you, earnest eyes meeting your wide ones. “Gonna show you how to do it? How ta, how ta please a man? Please me? Treat me nice; let me show you how to help me?” You couldn’t deny his desperate pleads anymore and you nod, steeling yourself to try again, reminding yourself you weren’t hurting him, you were helping him. 

“I, I - ok, but you hafta, you hafta tell me how El, I can’t - I don’t wanna hurt you or anything like that.” 

“You won’t, you won’t baby, just, just wrap your little hand around it, there,” He smiles encouragingly at you as you do as he requests; nervously wrapping your hand around and rubbing it up to the tip. You stroke a finger across the shiny pink end and stare, fascinated, as a bead of thin white liquid forms at the tip. You gasp, pulling your hand away when your finger accidentally touches it. 

“Gosh, it’s leaking! Oh ew Elvis! — don’t pee on me. That’s disgusting!” You shake your hand, holding it away from you. He’s quick to grab your wrist before you can wipe it on the couch, correcting you, 

“No, no, no, baby it’s not, it’s not pee. It’s uh, it’s… it’s what makes babies, darling, but this little bit of it is, it’s the same as why you get wet down there. Bet your little panties are clear through right now.” You blush, how could he know that you sometimes, unknowingly, seemed to wet your pants, 

“Elvis - don’t, it don’t happen often enough for you to accuse me of peeing my pants,” his laugh in response is strained.

“No, no, baby, it’s not pee, it’s slick baby - it’s saying … that your little kitty wants something in it … wants someone to touch it.” He pauses, suddenly realising that he’s your only point of reference for any of this — “but you mustn’t - not ’til you’re completely alone, or, or, with me - you understand?” You frantically nod and he continues talking, satisfied he’d impressed that upon you sufficiently; “and it's making that because it wants to make it easier for a uh, for uh a penis to go in there. That’s how babies are made sweetheart.” You frown, 

“My mama always told me you got given one from the church where you got married - you prayed hard enough and it got put in your tummy like Jesus and Mary,” he smiles, 

“I think your mama was very smart - tryin’ to keep you innocent but I swear… I promise I’m tellin’ the truth.” For some reason, you believe him. And he can tell, moving your hand back onto him, the thin sticky wetness cooling on your fingers; 

You stop, a hair’s breadth away from touching him - looking up at him, “So, uh, so - if we’re alone I can, you’ll let me touch myself too?” 

“Of course honey, of course, I’ll even touch you myself — but right now, I need you to move your hand a little, ok baby? Think you can do that? Just gotta listen to me, ok?” You nod, suddenly determined to show him that you can take instruction. Your hand trembles as you reach it out again, and he tucks it under his own fingers, firmly but gently placing it back onto his length. You’re again surprised at the heat, and how it somehow seems to have firmed up even further.

He directs your hand, his palm on the back of yours, both in pressure and movement. You feel him jerk underneath your palm and you can’t help but jump in slight surprise, 

“S’ok, s’ok baby, just feels good. Tha-tha- that’s just right darling.” It doesn’t take long before his hips are stuttering, and you’re starting to understand the motion and technique that makes him groan in pleasure. He grips the back of the sofa over the top of you, releasing your hands and caging you in between his arms; it puts you at an awkward angle, and you wriggle up to get onto your knees. It puts your head back near his chest height rather than directly facing his crotch and, though you were fascinated by what was going on, you were slightly relieved at the distance. Now that you’re in sole control you feel free to experiment to your heart’s content, twisting your hand and stroking a gentle finger down to his tip. You watch as a thin stream pulses out at the feel of that, and he lets out a little cry; 

“Don’t, don’t tease me baby, s’not nice, not when I’m bein’ so kind - lettin’ you learn like this. Showin’ you what ain’t seen ‘fore.” You nod, feeling slightly chastised even at his soft words, and return your grip. You giggle, suddenly thinking that in some ways it reminds you of milking a cow. All this tugging and twisting. He groans above you again, begging - 

“Can, I, sweetheart - can I kiss you?” He cups your cheek with one of his hands, distracting you and pulling your eyes up to meet his. You nod, whispering agreement, and you think frantically for a moment if you should warn him - tell him that you haven’t done this before either but before you have the chance he’s cupping your cheek and bending over capturing your mouth in his.

You press your lips to his, and he responds in kind, but a second later you’re shocked when he opens his slightly, suckling on your lower lip. He pulls it back a tiny bit with his teeth and you whine at the little sting, but also at the sudden butterflies springing in your belly. You don’t know what else to expect, and go to pull away, but his hand cups the back of your head, holding you in place so you’re forced to breathe through your nose and let him continue. Your hand squeezes involuntarily at the action and he falls even closer to you, pulling you so that your arm is sandwiched between you both. He pushes his tongue against yours, and you can feel his little smile when you catch the hint, letting him push it into your mouth. You feel awkward, uncertain what to do with your own tongue, and you don’t know where you should be looking - he’s got his eyes closed but you can’t help but watch his face - stare at the arch of his nose and his long lashes. You melt against him as his tongue continues to map your mouth, not even realising that you’re chasing his lips wherever they move or that you’re making tiny little gasping noises. It feels weird but certainly not something you’re opposed to, now you’ve felt it, and you certainly are getting pleasure from it, little zings going straight to your core as he brushes over your teeth and cheeks. He pulls back for a second, panting, 

“Was that - have you done that before?” You shake your head, and his hangs forward, chin resting on the top of your head, groaning. “Lord, baby, what I wanna do to you.” You twist your hand, where it was still holding him, although slightly forgotten in the heat of the moment that had just passed, and he moans again, his head lifting to fall back the other way. 

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” He’s gabbling approval at you, and you somehow continue touching him. You narrate to him your actions as you do, feeling and hearing when something felt particularly good to him. 

“Is that right? You like this? Is it better if I do this?” And you swipe your thumb over his head — he thrusts forward, his hand that was still cupping your head coming down to clutch at your shoulder. 

“Just, almost there, I’m almost there. That’s it baby, doin’ so well for me. That’s it, oh god, that’s it.” He’s constantly talking, and you can feel his eyes watching you now, so you bring your other hand up, feeling around to the strangely soft and silky skin just behind his cock, you stroke that, while the other continues its ministrations. That seems to be enough to send him over the edge, as a moment later his hips stutter, and he yells out a curse as a milky stream spurts out of the end straight into your palm. You hold him through it, uncertain of what else to do, and you’re not sure if that’s all you need to do so your hand stays there until he whispers, 

“S’ok little one, that’s me done. For the moment, that’s - uh, that’s not, that's not what you think - that’s babies there in ya hand.” You look up at him shocked, before looking back at your palm, suddenly panicked that you might have to be a mother now. 

“Babies?!” He chuckles, 

“Yeah, hon, but they don’t - they don’t grow unless I put ‘em in you.” You breathe a sigh of relief, “They don’t… you don’t only do that for the babies to grow though, it’s uh, its also because like what we just did - it feels good.” You nod, it’s starting to make an awful lot of sense, but you’ve still got that feeling in your tummy and his earlier accusation was right - you could feel your wetness now; although you’re far less ashamed of it now that you know it wasn’t pee. You squirm, and he strokes your face, just a single finger down your jaw, looking down at you before turning to put his trousers back on. He’s buckling up his belt, and you’re still sat there with the pooling ejaculate on your hand, it looks kind of similar to that thin icing, like your mama used to put on her pound cakes. And you’re tempted to have a tiny taste when he turns to grab something off of the side, but when you run a finger through it you’re put off by the texture, and the reminder that it came from him. He turns back to you, talking again and distracting you from your study. 

“That’s all there is to it, baby - now you’ve seen me and you know. Know how to pleasure a man with your hands and the truth about babies - ain’t that a lot of learning for one day.” You’re about to ask if he could show you what he meant before, since your pussy was, with this heat and wetness, apparently begging to be touched. But you suddenly, as you wipe your hand on the handkerchief he pulled out from somewhere, feel quite overwhelmed. Maybe another day. Kissing and touching was more than enough for the one day. You stand up, as if to leave, and he rushes to you, 

“No, no - what’s all this;  I can see it on your face. Don’t you go worrying your pretty little head about any of it, ok baby? I’ll, I’ll show you what you need to know - don’t you go worrying ‘bout any of it.” You nod, you want to disagree but he looks so earnest and true, grown-up and handsome, that you can’t do anything but agree. “You’ll come to me if you have any other questions, right honey? ‘Fore you go anywhere else right?” He’s speaking authoritatively, like he’s giving you an order, and you can’t do anything but accept his words.  

“Ok - El, ok. I’ll come to you - promise.” 

[heliads]

Hello hey can you do some fluff with Thomas ? 🥰please

when they are talking in the safe heaven they was mutual pinning for them since the glade. She was all ways there for him and vice versa. They are a balancing personality. She was pessimistic and he was optimistic. But they have matching energy: one day he make a stupid joke and she says «  why I’m in love with you remind me «  but she didn’t mean to, and Thomas was surprised because they were in love it was obvious and didn’t stop teasing her for it.

Ps : Newt and Teresa are alive

i believe in newt and teresa being alive

masterlist

There is no such thing as winning over Y/N. That’s one of the very first lessons Thomas learned upon entering the Glade, along with the other crucial ones such as ‘don’t pick a fight with Gally,’ and ‘for goodness’ sake, Greenie, stop trying to go in the Maze.’ Still, he’s not inclined to give up yet. On any of those topics, actually. 

Thomas is not prone to surrender. He is a fighter, always has been. Or, he’d like to say that, if he had any idea what he ‘always has been’ in his life. There is Thomas now, Thomas when he first came up in the Box, and then a great expanse of nothingness before and after that. Blank emptiness is his past, unknowable odds his future. There is only Thomas in the present moment, so capable of changing his future that he doesn’t even know his past.

The nothingness makes it easier to remember the lessons. He has so few concrete memories in his head that the day-to-day events stand out in bright highlighter neon. Thomas can remember the sensation of a pen but never what brand he liked best nor what he might have written with it. Thomas does not know if he has ever worked in a garden growing up, but he knows what seeds can become and that he hates being a Track-Hoe, so he focuses on the last bit instead.

It makes him lie awake at night, spending hours staring up at a sky utterly foreign to him in the hopes of remembering any more of it. The constellation over his nose could have been his favorite, once upon a time, it could have been taught to him by a mother or father, but now it is just a broad handful of stars somewhere beyond his reach.

With so little to fill his head except fear and paranoia of the day before, Thomas is forced to conjure up something better worth his imagination, and more often than not, that happy thing becomes Y/N. Y/N is probably what Thomas will become sooner or later, once the initial rush of finding himself in the Glade wears off and he just grows sick of everything in sight.

Y/N has been here longer than most everyone here. The only rivals she has in terms of tenure would be Alby or the dead boys lying in a grave somewhere in the Deadheads. All that time stuck in these stone walls, and it taught her the importance of never getting your hopes up. Thomas met her the first time and thought that he might make it his goal to get her to smile.

He reached that after a few days, but that didn’t stop him from trying again and again. So what if Y/N is a realist who’s given up on dreaming of a way to get out of here, Thomas has enough heart for both of them and he’ll wield it just the same. Thomas sidles up to her at meals and tells terrible jokes until she has to sip at her water to hide a smile. He listens to her talk about everything that goes wrong in the Glade and intersperses recollections of what went well that day as well.

Slowly, surely, Thomas swears that she’s coming over to his side. He can win her friendship like a battle, a round of cards, anything he can make his own with enough dumb luck and a good few twists of fate. He’s come closer than anyone else, so that surely should count for something, right?

Thomas knows he’s getting there when the other kids start intervening. Minho takes it upon himself to tell Thomas that this whole thing is a lost cause. Been there, done that, Minho says one day while they’re out mapping a sector of the Glade, you’re going to have to give up eventually, and you know that. Y/N doesn’t want to suddenly become an optimist. It’s not going to happen.

I don’t want her to suddenly become an optimist, Thomas argues back, I just want her to like being around me even if I’m one.

Later that day, while they were taking one of their few much-needed breaks, Thomas had dared to ask Minho more in between desperate sips of water.

You knew her at the start, didn’t you? What was she like? He’d prompted.

Minho had sighed, stared at the water in his hands. She was like you. I never thought she’d give up on the hope that we’d get of here, and then she did.

Thomas had pushed for more details on just what had happened to change Y/N’s mind, but he hadn’t been able to get any additional facts out of Minho other than a recollection of several Gladers lost without any monumental change in their slow slog towards getting answers out of the Maze.

Mainly, though, what had done Y/N in was time. She’s spent three years here now, three years without any sign that they’ll ever leave. Fine, then, Thomas decides. If Y/N can’t see a world in which they ever get out of here, he’ll forge a new one just to make her eyes light up again.

He’s good on his word, too. When Thomas finds the way out, when their entire way of life goes awry and Gally tries to exert his control over the Glade, Thomas fights his way out with his friends. He shows Y/N the door out of the Maze, and he takes her through it.

Thomas doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the look on her face when they step out into the sunlight for the first time. The sun was still there in the Glade, obviously, but it isn’t the same when you can feel the shadows of the Maze walls on your back with every other breath. Out there in the real world, though, that was something else altogether.

It was good, even when they were fighting for their lives in the Scorch. They spent their days terrified of Crank activity, but when the sun sank beneath the horizon and they were finally able to rest in whatever meager shelter that crossed their path, Thomas looked at Y/N and he knew that her hope was back. It was enough to make him keep fighting for a better life. It was enough to make him feel infallible.

And they did it, didn’t they? They found their way out. Thomas is reminiscing about old, worse times from his hut in the Safe Haven, far away from harm. Cranks cannot reach them here, nor WICKED, nor anyone else. He is here with his friends and Y/N, and he could not want for anyone else.

The final fights were the worst of Thomas’ life. He lost allies, but he saved some, too. Thomas doesn’t know that he’ll ever experience a fear quite like the one ricocheting through his chest when Newt was bitten. For a few horrific minutes there, Thomas had thought that he might lose him, the one friend he’d had from the very start. 

Minho had made it back in time with the cure, though, and then Newt was blinking up at him with shocked eyes and asking what had happened. Thomas hadn’t been able to answer him, not for a while. He remembers standing there, clutching Y/N for support, knowing that without her there he might have collapsed to the ground by Newt’s side.

That was Y/N for him, Thomas supposes. Whenever he was low, she was high. They complemented each other perfectly. He held out hope when she couldn’t, and when he was in danger of losing himself, Y/N pulled him back from the brink. Survival does horrible things to us all, but sometimes it gives you salvation in the form of people. Y/N is his people. Y/N is all he has ever needed.

Y/N was the one Thomas was thinking about when he was fleeing Janson through a burning city. Y/N was the name on his mind when Thomas caught Teresa just before the roof caved in. When the explosion hit him too hard and Thomas passed out on the Berg carrying them away, her face was the last one that flashed through his head.

It is all okay, though. They have lived through the horrors, the desolation, the grief. All that is left for them now is a quiet sort of ending, an epilogue in which the heroes win and the villains are forgotten. Thomas rises with the sun and goes to bed with the moon, and slowly, carefully, he heals.

They do that together, too. Thomas hands over leadership duties of the new settlement to the others; he wants no part of that now, no forced maturity of any kind, and he runs away to the one person who will always want him now. It’s funny, looking back on the Glade, how Thomas had always operated with this slight fear that Y/N was just humoring him because they were both stuck in the same place. He knows now for a fact that was never the case.

She’s told him as much, both directly and through the little things. He picks a wildflower out of surprise that such a colorful thing could idly grow on the side of the road and she tucks it behind her ear for the rest of the day. He wakes with nightmares and she holds him until the dreams become just that, just dreams, just memories which can no longer touch him.

Thomas thinks for the first time that growing old sounds like something that he can finally ignore. In the Glade and Scorch, the thought of making it to infirmity was something of a dream, an impossibility he would never reach. Right now, though, Thomas wants all the time he can get his hands on. He’s desperate for it, greedy and drunk on every moment. He loves the little things. He is enchanted by the big events. All of it is his, and all of it is beautiful.

He finds Y/N in the mornings, the evenings, the afternoons. They walk until their feet ache and sleep until the sun has climbed far too high in the sky, laugh and cry and live. It is nothing like what he thought growing up would be like, but then again, he never thought he’d make it far enough to judge. Right now, he is happy.

Very happy. He turns to Y/N as they’re sitting by the edge of the water and tells some sort of stupid joke. He’s been prone to them recently, like some inner comedian has suddenly remembered it exists and dusted itself off for its fair share in his personality. Maybe the Thomas before the Maze liked being funny. He’s never had enough time to figure out who that was at all.

Thomas waits for Y/N to say what she usually says in response to his attempts at being funny:  laugh along, maybe, or swat him on the shoulder, or come up with an even better joke just to make fun of him.

Instead, she rolls her eyes fondly. “That was awful.”

“Great,” Thomas corrects, “I think you mean it was great.”

“I certainly do not,” she says, smiling, “Remind me again why I love you?”

It’s late in the evening, maybe she’s tired, maybe that’s why she slips up and says something like that. Neither of them have been willing in any way to put a name on what they have or what they feel, but it occurs to Thomas that he wants that label more than anything he’s ever wanted before.

Y/N’s face looks tight, as if the skin has been yanked up on her bones to expose the skeleton beneath. She starts talking about something else quickly, the words tumbling out in an attempt to hide what had been said before. It doesn’t matter, though, Thomas knows what he heard and he adores it.

“I love you too,” he says. He feels like shouting it.

Y/N stares at him. “What?”

“I love you,” he answers her. “I love you. And you totally knew that, by the way. You’ve known that all along, so you do not get to just pretend like that didn’t happen. I know what you said. Also, I want it remembered from here on out that you said ‘I love you first.’”

Y/N gives him a look, but she can’t stop her lips from twisting up into a grin, so even her fiercest glares can’t weather him in the slightest. “Why does the order of who said what first even matter?”

“Who knows?” Thomas says, shrugging as casually as he can, “Probably that you’re just, you know, obsessed with me or something. I wouldn’t blame you.”

This time Y/N does swat him, but she kisses him too, so Thomas supposes she could be forgiven. He already has. He’d do it in a heartbeat, even if she was stabbing him through the chest instead of toying with him. He loves her. He loves her, and he won’t do anything else but that.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

tmr taglist: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[koifish67]

Overwatch x GN! Reader adopting a kid part 1

Tw mentions of vomit

(Since solider 76 is CANON gay, his section will have have he/him pronouns for you(

(The baby is a girl)

Mako is a good dad, a great dad even.

You’d think he’d get annoyed easily by the crying of the baby, but he simply will just scoop up the small human and cradle them ever so gently.

His nickname for his baby? “puawai iti” (little flower in the Māori language)

He’ll put his baby on his stomach with a hand on them and omg it so adorable.

You catch him staring at you while holding the baby, he’ll lie if you ask if he was smiling. (He 100% was)

When he’s out and about he has his baby in a sling on him, it has lil pachimari all over it. He also dresses her in a cute pachimari onesie!

Is scared to feed her but after you show him he’s a bit more confident. Does the airplane thing 100%.

Scared but happy, he genuinely is scared that he’ll accidentally hurt his baby by doing something stupid. But happy cause he finally gets to have a kid with you.

Makes baby clothes and it looks cute! Probably goes crazy when he sees baby shoes.

Puts all his dangerous explosive stuff on a very high shelf.

Cant change diapers for the life of him, like he will gag and vomit if he has to, so it’s your job now.

Giggles so much if she farts or burps, he takes videos of it and sends it to you with him giggling in the background.

Dresses her in very funny costumes and onesies.

ROADHOG BABYSITTIER!!!

Hanzo

Omg is so so happy he finally gets to have a kid with you. He always wanted a kid, and a kid with YOU, his dream is coming true.

When he finally gets to see his child, he starts crying and hugging you and his new baby girl.

Dresses his baby in cute little dresses! He found a cute dragon onesie and is obsessed with it.

Calls her “my little dragon”

Is a pro at feeding, changing diapers, calming her down, and making her laugh.

He spoils her so much that her room is engulfed with stuffed animals, blankets, and the cutest baby bottles.

The dragons love her, they cuddle her all the time.

Mcree

Is super excited, like omg I’m gonna be a father finally!

Dresses her in a lil cowboy hat sometimes it’s so cute, its brown with little bees on it. Has her own little cow boy boots to.

Feeds her like a pro!

Does that thing where she’ll toss her in the hair and catch her, gently of course.

If he’s out and about he has a baby carrier with horses all over it.

Doesn’t smoke when she’s with him, refuses it and will never do it. He actually stops a lot and rarely does in the future.

Has pictures of her and you in his hat, takes it out to show it off to his teammates.

“Look at my amazing husband/wife/partner and our baby!”

Calls her “my little cowgirl”

Doomfist

Very excited! He’s gonna be a dad! It makes him so happy to have a baby with you.

“I cant be evil today I’m to busy being a dad”

I’m sorry but he’s really bad at matching her outfits, but she’s dressed so it doesn’t really matter.

So gentle to her, he treats her like the most breakable glass in the world.

Lots of plushes, so many omg.

He makes her dance, like he does that thing where he moves her arms and legs to make her dance and it’s adorable.

Her first words are “dada” and he starts fucking sobbing.

Solider 76

OMG HES FINALLY A FUCKING DAD! He crys in your chest when that happens

Loves taking her around everywhere in a stroller, especially at the park when he’s on his daily run.

“Where’s the wife today?”

“My HUSBAND is at home making lunch.”

Mercy babysits for you

Stricks me as the guy who builds everything, like he built her crib, a shelf, her diaper changing paper.

Has 20 books on parenting, and asks Ana a lot of questions to.

Starts crying when she touches his face and giggles, his heart is all warm and fuzzy.

Goes to check ups with mercy with her

Dilf

Starts crying when she says her first words.

[softrozene]

Comforting Female Reader Who Has Experienced an Assault

Anon asked: Hey honey, I was too shy to ask off of anon... But do you think you could do some HC’s for the boys helping a f!reader who was previously sexually assaulted? I am having a really tough time right now. ( I am handling it all and I have people helping me too) it’s just really weird for me to deal with I guess Thank you sweet Ro!

rdr2 masterlist

I’m sorry to hear that stuff like that is happening to you but if you ever need someone to talk to just to vent or for advice you are always welcome to talk to me since I have experienced past sexual assaults and harassments. It’s always a no-judgment zone when talking to me fyi. Just remember everyone processes it differently but you are not alone and hopefully the people helping you are a strong support system.

I love you anon and I hope these make you feel better.

 I chose almost all the males I usually write for because they would all kill/die for the ones they love. 

Originally published on February 11, 2020

*Speaking to everyone who reads this: These can be taken as platonic relationships or romantic. Just know I am not romanticizing the issue. There will be solid advice. There will be dumb advice. These are after all my headcanons for how I think they would treat the issue with a fem!reader (I think with a male!reader they would act just a little bit differently. This is a sensitive topic so please read the warnings and just remember you are all loved.

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, fluff, mentions of past sexual assault

Hosea Matthews-

He would hear this from you directly

  Would be shocked before he drops everything in order to listen to you

  If you don’t wanna talk about it he won’t push you but he will hint that it may make you feel better

  If it happened all in the past he would piece together some of your tendencies that relate to the assault, what you tend to avoid and whatnot, and basically, he’ll help you so nothing at the camp will trigger you

  If it happened more recently he will try and urge you to tell him who it is so he can sick the boys on them, without your knowledge of course

  He’ll just say “It’s been taken care of Sweetheart. No need to worry about it.”

   Hosea is the most caring one out of them all and will constantly check up on you, see how you are doing/feeling, will get you whatever you want whenever you want, and more importantly will always put others in their place if he feels they are getting on your nerves or are crossing boundaries

  If you do daily talks he’ll always ask if it’s okay to hug you or hold your hand because he wants you to know desperately how much you mean to him and the gang

  If he sees you heading down the wrong path, he will pick you up without a doubt. Orders you to take care of yourself and if you don’t listen to him, he will send Arthur and John the most awkward boys in the universe to go and talk you into doing the stuff he told you to do

  He’ll do about anything you want in order for you to feel better and get past this traumatic experience

  “We can’t change what happened to us. That’s all in the past. However, we can change how it affects us now. How we’ll go on in the future. Turn this into something to make you stronger.”

  Dutch Van Der Linde-

  Will deadass go on a rampage after learning you’ve been assaulted

  All you have to say is that you got hurt by someone- He doesn’t need any details unless you want to fill up the rage he already has

  He will hunt down whoever they are no matter where they are with most of the gang by his side, it doesn’t matter how long ago it was, he wants to see that bastard/bitch who did this to you in the ground

  “And they will surely be dealt with” literally will be his words- Anyway after they are dealt with will he only focus on you

  He’ll be careful with you and probably the most annoying thing he can and will do is, treat you like glass

  It doesn’t matter anymore if this was in the past or more recently, he will make sure someone he trusts is by your side and preferably a woman so probably Miss Grimshaw

  Eventually, he will realize that he is overdoing it but he will give you one of his speeches saying it’s only because he worries about you

  You just gotta be upfront with him, tell him what you need and what you do not need, and he will fix himself after apologizing

  Expect a lot more gifts from yours truly

  By a lot, I mean a lot

  He will make it rain jewelry for you if it means you know how much he cares

  Can’t say that about the money though

  If it still lingers over you he will without a doubt, try and help you through the process of at least accepting what happened well happened

  “Try and focus on the now and make yourself better for the future” Or something along those lines would be his advice

  Arthur Morgan-

  Is a saint no matter what he says

  You would have to tell him face-to-face and rather bluntly that you were assaulted. If you hint at it, he may take a moment before he realizes what you mean

  He won’t act fast but he will sit down with you and have a talk with you

  Of course, he wants to act, his blood would be boiling at the thought of someone even touching you without your consent but for your sake, he will take a breather and wait until you are done venting to him

  He would treat you the same

  He wouldn’t necessarily tread lightly on certain topics unless he sees that it makes you uncomfortable and omg if one of the boys dares to mess with you he will be on their ass in a hot second

  Basically, he may hover but he won’t realize it since he’s treating you the same way as always

  It’s up to you as well to decide the fate of who hurt you

  If you want them dead, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

  If you want them beaten, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

  If you want them threatened, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

  If you don’t want anything done, he’ll just keep an eye on you and make sure you are faring well

  When he’s not at camp he’ll have Hosea, John, or one of the ladies keep an eye on you

  He makes sure that you know you can bother him for anything, he may be grumpy about it but he’ll do it just for you

  If you’re having nightmares or just can’t sleep you can sleep on his cot and he’ll stay with you until you do fall asleep

  If nothing works to make you feel better you bet your ass he’ll take you with him, on rides to town just to get you out and about

  His last resort is letting you see his journal- That’s how you know this boy genuinely cares about you because no one touches the journal

  “People are not so kind. But you are. What I’m tryin’ to say is don’t let that bastard/bitch put out your light. I care ‘bout ya.”

  Charles Smith-

  He would be the most understanding like Hosea

  Would make sure that you are in a safe space mentally before he allows you to vent

  Will reassure you that you are safe no matter what but he will want to get back at this person

  It usually goes against his code for killing but he cares about you and no one deserves to get hurt like that so he will take time out of his day (probably go gather Arthur) and go and kill this person

  Whether you wanted that or not he would have convinced you this person would probably have another person to prey on soon enough

  Speaking of, he will remind you that you are not a victim but a survivor

  He’ll be there for you all the way

  If you need some company he’s there for you even if you don’t want to talk

  Charles can and will be your rock if you need it

  He’ll help pick you up and depending on if it’s okay with you, tell a selective few what happened so they can also help you

  It may be cheesy but I can see Charles in this scenario making you say positive things about yourself in order to ward away the negative thoughts

  “Repeat after me. I am a strong woman. I am resilient. I am a tiger.”

  May or may not be making fun of Mr. Pearson at the last one in order to get you to laugh

  Either way, he’ll make sure you to feed you positive lines almost every day

  If you need to get out he’ll take you on nature rides and remind you out beautiful the world is despite how cruel the people are

  He won’t exactly hover but he will be constantly glancing your way at camp to make sure you are all good

  Tells you venting is actually good without needing to hear the advice

  I forgot to mention it in the others but, all these males will make sure you know self-defense. They give you tips and tricks with each weapon of their choice that way no one will mess with you again

  You can always rely on Charles to give you good advice though. Understands that sometimes you just need someone to rely on so you know you’re not alone

  “I know you. You are strong and beautiful. Don’t give anyone the power to doubt yourself. Only you have that power.”

  John Marston-

  Is fucking awkward when it comes to this kind of thing

  He will 100% see red as soon as you tell him and no matter what no one but Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea can stop him from going after the person who hurt you (and those three will join him tbh)

  He is not the best to talk to about this so he’s okay if you just need the company

  May take you to a saloon and get you a drink or two just to ease you, will not give you more

  Honestly, I see John as completely awkward and not knowing what to do for this situation. He’s at a loss and if the problem (the person) has been dealt with wouldn’t know how to help you

  He would go ask the girls how to cheer you up or make you feel better, go to Hosea would be a better option and would finally just ask you what you need and how so you don’t get stuck in your PTSD

  Though he may understand but not in the way that is relatable. He’ll understand the nightmares and such but he won’t understand if you fear that person because his situations have always been near death

  He will desperately try to understand you though

  Will send Jack your way if that kid can cheer you up

  “Well fuck, y’know I always have your back. Just- I um don’t let ‘em get to you.”

  Javier Escuella-

  This man would have no idea what to say at first

  It’ll take him a minute to register before he asks if he can hug you- mostly to reassure himself that you are physically safe

  Once that is done and over he will get straight to business and ask what you need

  Murdering the person would cross his mind tbh but he’s too focused on you that he won’t ask till much later

  If you need to clear your mind he’ll take you fishing, show you how to fish and have Hosea come along so it’s all positive vibes

  He’ll write some songs and lullabies for you and serenade you to show you how much he cares

  I honestly think Javi bottles everything up when it comes to himself so he’ll be more than happy to talk to you about your PTSD or share stories and even his own past if he deems it right by you

  He would gut whoever you want like a fish for you btw

  “Hermosa, you’re strength inspires me”

  And it truly does

  It takes a lot of guts to admit and accept what’s happened and even more to want to reach out for help

  Javier would admire that and remind you whenever you need to hear it

  Sean Macguire-

  Ahaha if you thought John or Dutch had a short fuse for this- The minute he finds out he’s already spouting nonsense of them meeting their demise

  And if you allow it or they are not dead he will surely make them have a terrible death

   He would risk getting caught by bounty hunters again if that were the case

  As for comforting you, this boy doesn’t exactly know how to do that

  He laughs off his own traumatic experience so he’d probably be trying to get you to crack a smile or drink with him

  Homeboy would try and get you to kill some bloody people for the fun of it ngl

  Hopefully, his energy will rub off on you

  I don’t really see him as the sitting down type but if he cares about you he is more than willing to listen to you and also more than willing to give you unwanted advice and a shite ton of his opinions

  “Yer fuckin’ priceless. No mutherfucker hassa right to touch ye.”

  He will end the speech with something gory I bet

  *I was going to add Keiran and Lenny but I ran out of ideas but I hope the lovely lads I did write and their reactions/comfort help anyone who needs it

[futurepastme]

I'm stuck in a bit of a creative block so I decided to try and write a synopsis of my latest potential first fic ( I got a bunch of potential fics that never saw the daylight) and this is what I managed to write

After releasing Kilgharrah from underneath the castle, Merlin thought that his life would continue pretty much the same, until one day the dragon came knocking at his door to take him to a long forgotten island, and everything began to change. Uther’s hunt for magic reached a level that was only seen before at the first years of the Purge. Merlin, seeing his people’s suffering, decides to take them away from the wrath of camelot to somewhere they wouldn’t be found. Quickly, the rumours of a magic-friendly kingdom began to spread throughout the lands of Albion; and Merlin, as Emrys, sees himself ascending to the position of ruler and saviour. Now, the peasant boy has to learn how to be king of an oppressed people, protect them from Uther’s war, and somehow keep helping Arthur fulfill their destiny as Emrys and the Once and Future King.  But a kingdom is not built in a day, so it is a good thing that he’ll get some help doing it. Or, the au where Merlin helps his kind and accidentally turns into a king.

I've had the first idea for this fic over a year ago and lately I've been writing some of it for fun. I don't know If I'll ever finish it 'cause I usually don't but I sometimes post bits of what I have so far.

If anyone is interested in more and haven't seen it yet; here's everything I've posted about this Au so far: Prologue; Bit of Ch1; Ch1 again; Bit of Ch2A; Bit of Ch2B

I haven't posted more than this because chapter 1 ended up with 14k words and I just think this is too long for tumblr so I just posted some scenes that I felt like. Ah! I almost forgot, the official name so far is "Emrys and the council of the 7" because that's literally the first thing I thought about this universe, so that's probably staying. AH! And it'll be merthur, eventually...

Just a reminder that english is not my first language and everything I post here is basically a first draft

[mayordea]

MORGAN HEADCANON POST!!!

so i have posted my elaborate “the robins are separate entities and siblings” headcanons and i think i’ve said too many damn times that i wanna extend a similar headcanon post for morgan and now it is TIME!!

(im also a lot less nervous sharing this time teehee)

more info about the guys under the cut :]

morgan

the girl one

robin’s adopted daughter. parents died after grima goes bananas and robin decided to take her under his wing. i like to think robin held out a little longer than the rest of the shepherds once the apocalypse started so he was able to teach morgan what he knew. plus she self taught herself magic and tactics using his notes even when he’s dead

can be blunt, hates being the butt of the joke, but has a pretty dry and witty sense of humor. sometimes clashes with lucina’s inability to pick up on jokes

since she was a kid when grima goes bad, she is the oldest among the second gen. older than lucina by a few years perhaps

has a close sisterly relationship with lucina. she and lucina sort of reflect robin and chrom’s relationship in the group, with the exalted leader having a wise magic man by their side. given the situation in their family tree (though morgan is adopted, she is still lucina’s cousin) i’d refrain from defining it as anything romantic (besides i hc lucina to be aroace anyway. queerplatonic relationship, perchance)

since morgan was only able to cross paths with lucina and the rest of the second-gen shepherds through her adoption from robin, it is unlikely that she will meet lucina in the good future or at least have the same very close relationship with lucina since she’ll be raised by her bio parents. (one may argue that none of the second-gen shepherds will meet or form a close band without the backdrop of acopalyptic bonding in the good timeline, but the point is that morgan will live a significantly different upbringing if the grima threat is taken care of). lucina sometimes worries about this possibility, but morgan’s conviction to change the future for the better is stronger than this uncertainty. this conviction was also probably inspired by lucina’s drive to change fate

ngl this is all i have unfortunately 😭 but i do wanna work with her more, especially her relationship with lucina

marc

the boy one

chrom and reflect (girl robin)’s son from… a different future. he does not hail from the same doomed timeline as lucina and the rest of the kiddos. instead, he’s from a timeline where grima was vanquished with the falchion (keeping reflect/the vessel alive). he was born shortly after the war ended (though in actuality he’s born after chrom and friends leave smash bros but that’s a whole other can of worms)

the youngest of the future kids

due to his unawareness of the apocalyptic future and grima in general, he has a much more jovial attitude compared to the rest of the kids

brash and a bit of a jock

has a little bit of aptitude in magic from his mom, but he has no interest in actually touching a book

lucina (and the rest of the kids) were confused about this guy’s existence and why he was sent to the past but they embrace him as one of their own anyway (he still doesn’t really know what’s going on)

tbh i have even less going on with him, but i think exploring the silly sibling dynamic he’ll have with lucina should be fun in future projects

his design is kinda messy atm, i do not know if ill fully settle on the one here idk

OH and lastly: his mark of the exalt has not surfaced yet at his age, but i think it’ll appear on either the back of his right hand (like the defile brand) or on his upper back (jojo reference). or maybe even in his right eye like inigo (but that sorta feels like his thing so i don’t wanna rip it off lmao)

anyway that’s it!! i’m kinda pressed for time rn but i wanted to get this out before i forgot lmao!! will edit if needed ough

[clangenrising]

Month 9 - Leaffall

Oddstripe was restless. So was Floodpaw, who had returned for a check up on his shoulder wound. 

“Dad,” groaned the apprentice as he wiggled impatiently, “I’m fine. Seriously, you shouldn’t worry so much.” 

“Oh,” Oddstripe chewed his lip. He didn’t know how to explain to his son that his worry was probably going to eat himself from the inside out for the rest of his days. He hadn’t realized warrior training would be so dangerous! Although, he probably should have known better. The thought of his boys - his baby girl! - out fighting murderous rogues and foxes and who knows what else! It made him want to pick them all up by the scruff and secret them away somewhere safe for the rest of their lives. 

Working the last of the horsetail poultice into Floodpaw’s skin, he sighed. He knew that wasn’t a real option. Still, he didn’t like how cavalier Floodpaw was about the situation. 

“I just want you to be safe, sweetheart,” he said and Floodpaw scoffed through his nose. That was disconcerting. 

“I am safe,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Goldenstar is the best warrior ever, she’s keeping me safe. And soon I’ll be able to handle myself for real, anyway.” 

Oddstripe frowned and began to apply the new cobwebs. “You got bitten. I’d hardly call that safe.” 

“I was safe enough,” Floodpaw shook his head. Oddstripe sighed. His little man was growing up and he didn’t like it. 

“It’s part of a warrior’s duty to risk their lives,” said Sagetooth as she walked into the den and Oddstripe jumped to attention. “The Clans have always faced dangers. StarClan smiles on those who defend their Clanmates.” Oddstripe tried to mask the frown that wanted to pull their lips even further down. 

“Right,” he nodded. “I’m sure they can forgive a bit of parental worry, though.” 

“Of course,” Sagetooth chuckled. “How’s the wound doing?” 

“Good,” smiled Oddstripe. “We’re nearly out of horsetail but we should be able to make it last long enough to avoid any infection.” 

“We’ll have to find some more then,” Sagetooth said. “Or some garlic. We’ll want to be prepared.” 

“Right,” Oddstripe said, gut twisting. There were going to be more wounds in the future. Sagetooth had taught him how to treat all kinds of wounds in theory but in practice he’d never tended anything worse than some bramble scratches. He wasn’t looking forward to gaining experience. Sagetooth, for her part, didn't seem that bothered. The advantage of age, he supposed. 

She continued into the den to look at the herb stores. “And Pantherhaze? How is he?” 

“Oh, much better,” Oddstripe said, trying to shake off the clinging sense of dread. “Although it looks like Branchbark has come down with whitecough instead.” He smoothed out the edges of the cobwebs with care, making sure that every inch of his son’s wound was protected from the elements. 

“Tch,” Sagetooth shook her head. “‘Tis the season, I suppose.” 

“Can I go now?” Floodpaw whined, shimmying in place as if it were physically uncomfortable to sit still any longer. 

“Mm, I guess so,” Oddstripe relented with a half smile. “You’re sure you don’t want to stay a little longer? I miss my boys.” He gave Floodpaw a few licks around the ears which his son squirmed away from. 

“Daaaad!” he whined, pushing at his father’s muzzle.

“Sorry, sorry,” said Oddstripe, pulling back to let Floodpaw run a paw over his new cowlick. “I’ll let you go. Just… be safe, please.” 

“I will,” promised Floodpaw, and he dashed away, barely impeded by his wound. 

“He’s young,” Sagetooth said softly. “He’ll learn patience in time.” 

“I hope so,” sighed Oddstripe. Straightening himself, he added, “I’ll go check on Branchbark again.” 

“Thank you,” smiled Sagetooth. With that, he headed out to try and focus on what he could change; a friend’s cold. That was simple enough at least.

UPDATES:

Pantherhaze has recovered from whitecough. Branchbark comes down with a case of whitecough instead.

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ LITTLE HANDS: EUSTASS KID

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Being a parent is a scary adventure for you and Kid, your partner has a lot of insecurities and fear, when he's about to freak out, the slightest sign can reassure him that fighting for his family is enough to convince him not to give up."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : MALE READER, TRANSMASC READER, TRANS MALE READER, FTM, PREGNANT MAN, MENTION OF BIOLOGICALLY PREGNANT MEN,calling Kid your husband, you can decide if you are really married or just a nickname, first-time parents, insecurities and fears about being a father, Kid being insecure about himself and his ability to be a father, Considerably calm reader, Kid pirates being the best uncles and aunts to spoil your child

꒰ WC ꒱ : 753

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Yes, again babies, I really was in baby fever and I still have some good baby stories, I can't help it. This is part of the collection for cannonically trans readers, but in the future most of the fics will not have this specified because sometimes it triggers me to write about some trans issues. I hope you like it and I still have lots of stories to share!

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You were in the huge armchair that made your whole body sink into the softness and comfort of the snuggle, honestly everything you needed after hours without sleep with the arrival of your newborn. You sighed, opening your eyes and looking for Kid. He had been in the same place for the last few minutes and you laughed softly before getting up and walking over to your huge husband.

He stood in front of the crib that he had built himself, it was made of beautiful, dark wood and was rocking gently, rocking his little baby into a deep sleep. The little boy had his skin color but Kid's wild red hair… Although he didn't really have much hair yet. He was wearing a beautiful, extremely soft and probably very expensive outfit that the crew had given you two, in fact they had given you so many clothes that the baby must have had more clothes than you and Eustass combined.

The baby's face was peaceful and he sucked his pacifier while sleeping like a starfish. After two days in a row crying without calming down in any situation he was now so peaceful that you had become paranoid that he was sick or dying. Luckily, the ship's doctor came to assure you every two hours that your son was healthy and was just resting and regaining his strength, soon he would start crying and screaming again and the whole process would repeat itself again.

You hugged Kid's waist and turned to face the sleeping little creature. Kid didn't have any expression on his face, but you knew him too well to be able to read even the smallest signs. You had seen his emotions changing in the last few days, fear, joy, love, insecurity, he had been on a roller coaster and now it seemed like the ride was over and he didn't know which of those feelings he wanted to keep.

“If you stare at him that much he’ll wake up…” You teased him, hugging his waist tighter.

“I can’t help it” he said in a low whisper, still staring at his son, your son.

You understood his fears, the fear of having a child on a pirate ship, the fear of his first child... But you knew that Kid's main fear was himself. You knew his past, you knew he had to become a monster in order to protect everyone he loved, but he would never want his own son to see him as a monster. What if his own son feared him? Hated him? He never had a father, how could he be one?

“Don’t overthink it, it’ll melt what’s left of your little brain” you mumbled and rubbed your face against their back and in return he pinched your waist, making you jump and laugh.

“How do we make something perfect?” He sighed as he watched his son with love and tenderness.

“I don’t know, but I don’t regret it” you stated calmly “What’s wrong Kid?” You tried somehow to get your husband to let you in and you could help him.

“I… I don't know… I'm afraid of doing something wrong to him… Failing with him” he sighed.

You smiled and released him, staying next to him and then gently took his hand and led him to your sleeping baby, using his finger — which was much bigger than yours — and made him caress the baby on the cheek gently, just letting go. when he started doing it on his own.

“You won't fail... And if you fail, I know you'll realize it and do your best, that's what matters, you try and have good intentions about it” you smiled at him, trying to calm him down.

“I…” Before Kid could disagree with you again your baby rolled over, waking up for a brief moment, when he saw that it was only his parents who were watching and petting him, he cooed and grabbed his redheaded father's finger with his small hand, then turned over to go back to sleep. “Their hands… They’re so tiny… Little hands…” You smiled, knowing that that was enough to calm all his insecurities while ensuring that being a father would be the best adventure he could have. And you both knew very well that even if you weren't experienced parents, with risky lives and insecurities, you would do your best for that new being so that he would have the best life and the best parents... That would be enough for now.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

[ihni]

Fist-fights and kisses

For @harringrovemicrofic, the February prompt: "Explode" (772 words) (Also side note, but do you realize how difficult it is to write a RHYME that ends up in an exact amount of words???)

Anyway.

~~~

Press down on the pedal; go harder, go faster Away from a slip-up, towards a disaster So what if he ends up all wrapped ‘round a tree? And dies in this shit-hole, so far from the sea?

He flies down the dark road, he’s rocketing, soaring He speeds up until the car’s engine is roaring He takes a turn sharply, he’s almost off-road He grits his teeth harshly; about to explode

Drive on in the darkness, don’t stop and don’t linger Ain’t no one got Billy wrapped tight ‘round their finger He cannot be tied-down, he cannot be tamed (A lie, he admits; he is leashed and ashamed)

He cannot show weakness – he’s always the strongest (At least he’s pretended to be, for the longest) He’s wild (he’s controlled) and he’s fearless (he’s scared) He’s charming and smiling (a mask with teeth bared)

This town is a prison, the move retribution Billy’s the problem to Hawkins’ solution His dad brought him here so he would be set straight So far it’s not working; he’ll die at this rate

If Billy dares speak up, Neil calls him a faggot And tells him he’s useless; worth less than a maggot If late, he gets punished; gets bruises and welts If loud, he gets beaten; with fists and with belts

His father once burned him with a lit cigarette And that wasn’t nearly the worst he would get If Neil finds out what his own son did tonight? It’s over for Billy; goodbye and goodnight

~~~

Steve is confused and his bruised cheek is stinging His eyes; wide and staring, his ears; red and ringing Yet all of that now takes a backseat to this: The memory of Billy’s lips against his

A kiss, Steve is certain, which does not make sense Perhaps it was just some bizarre self-defense? They had been fighting and Steve was not losing (Which was, on its own, a little confusing)

They fought and they pushed and they punched and they battled Both of them eager but none of them rattled Just two boys fighting; a scuffle, a brawl Which ended when Billy was thrown to the wall

It wasn’t the usual way their fights ended And probably not what Steve’s rival intended; His back to the wall, with Steve’s arm against his throat Steve opened his mouth – to taunt, perhaps to gloat?

And that was when Billy reversed their positions He re-wrote the rules and he changed the conditions He held on and grimaced and then, with a hiss He leaned in and Steve’s lips met his in a kiss

Steve froze where he stood, ‘cause he did not expect it There wasn’t a reason for him to suspect it Why was he– What was he trying to prove? Steve did not kiss back, he was too shocked to move

He felt as if he was the cure to starvation As Billy kept kissing with raw desperation Steve let out the first sound since all this began And Billy? He drew back, eyes wide – and then ran

~~~

His life here is over, a moment of weakness Was all that it took, now the future is bleakness He shouldn’t have done it, he was such a fool Come Monday, oh Steve will have told the whole school

They will all believe him, ‘cause no one likes Billy He’s popular, sure, but he’s got no friends really A day, at the most, and then Neil will find out The subsequent ‘talk’ will be painful, no doubt

If Billy survives it, he’s grounded forever He won’t have a life after this whatsoever Bullied and carless and locked in his room Hurting and aching, it’s safe to presume

If Neil does not kill him, the people in town might They hate his kind here, it will be a town highlight He’s all out of options, he’s on his last leg He will have to go back to Steve’s house and beg

Forgiveness and mercy, he hopes he can get it That impulse to lean in – oh how he’ll regret it If he could have just tampered down on his need If he could have not given in to his greed

He drives back to Steve’s place, his heart beating madly No crash on the way there, he makes it safe (sadly) He swallows and walks up to Harrington’s door Prepared to kneel right there on Harrington’s floor

The red door swings open before he can knock He starts to say “Sorry–“, then shuts up in shock Because that’s Steve’s hand on the back of his head And this time it’s Steve kissing Billy instead

~~~

(On AO3)

[neutron-stars]

I would first like to start by saying yes to your GC and the anons who are sending in spicy ideas. I have, however, another one.

In this universe all rookies do this for a year, right? Well what if after Rykers rookie year he comes in ready to mesh with the team, a little sad that his time with Vince is done, but accepting and even eyeballing a rookie or two himself.

But then Vince reaches out and pulls him down on his lap, spreads Rykers thighs open with his hands, and palmed Rykers crotch.

"You're still mine pretty boy."

oh HELLO more delicious prompts in my inbox WHAT A TREAT

context for this: in my canon of this verse there's a hierarchy over who gets to use the rookies: cup winners and captains are highest, then alternates, then other hardware winners, then by # of games played. the formal definition of "rookie" in this verse is 82 NHL games played, but if a team has no numerically eligible rookies up then the position of "free use rookie" defaults to the player with the least games played.

full fic eventually but here's a snip under the cut. can be read while listening to mr brightside for best results

Ryker starts to come a little bit undone on the third day of camp. He knows it shouldn’t bother him, but…it’s the new draft pick. Catton, he’s called, and the D-men have taken to calling him “Little Cat”, an obvious play on Lars’ nickname. He’s young, bright, talented. And ever since camp started, Vince has been circling him like a vulture. Ryker can admit it- he’s jealous. For all the teasing and toying and angst the older D-man put him through last year, Ryker misses being Vince’s little plaything. He liked being so blatantly wanted, taken, Vince’s claim so immediate and all-encompassing that there was no doubt among the rest of the room to whom he belonged. As a Cup winner, Vince was high in the hierarchy when it came to using the rookies. He had the right to throw his weight around, and he did. Tye was shared around the room, free use proper for whichever vets wanted him, whenever they wanted him. But Ryker belonged to Vince and only Vince. Vince made sure of that. Ryker watches the two of them now with searing intensity. Vince swirls around Catton, knocking at the kid’s skates, trying to muscle him off the puck. Catton is about Ryker’s height, got the same straight blond hair and blue eyes, and if Ryker lets his eyes unfocus and his mind wander just a little, it’s almost like watching himself in third person. Which Vince made him do once- put his own iPhone down across the room before putting Ryker on all fours and fucking him senseless, then making Ryker watch it back like they were fucking rolling tape. Ryker watches Vince and Catton now, first off the ice, feeling the jealousy simmer hot in his chest. He knows things are different now: Ryker’s got more than half a season under his belt; Ryker’s gonna make the opening night roster; Ryker should probably start thinking about how to play with the rookies for himself, though he knows he’ll be last in the pecking order for the foreseeable future. This is part of becoming a veteran, he tells himself- you can’t have change without loss. Ryker takes more than a few extra laps around the ice to cool his head down before making his way into the locker room. By the time he gets back, the locker room is already half-empty, most of the guys already having made their way into the showers. Prominently featured in his usual spot is Vince, with Catton kneeling- just literally kneeling, no cockwarming or anything- at his feet. Ryker swallows the sinking feeling in his stomach and makes his way quickly to his stall. He faces the wall as he strips off his jersey and shoulder pads with peak efficiency. He doesn’t have to make things harder for himself by looking more than he needs to. As he’s removing his elbow pads, he feels a warm, strong pair of arms wrap themselves around his stomach, pressing Ryker tight against their owner’s chest. He knows it’s Vince- can smell the expensive coconut shampoo Ryker once made the mistake of using. Vince’s arms spin Ryker around in one fluid motion so he’s facing forward and plopped down on top of the vet’s lap. “What- what are you doing?” Ryker asks, even as he relishes the way his stomach swoops. Across the room, Catton is staring at the two of them with wide eyes. Good, Ryker thinks. Let him watch. “Did you miss me, baby?” Vince whispers in his ear, planting a kiss to the back of Ryker’s neck. He snakes his hands up Ryker’s chest, cupping his pecs, rubbing thumbs over his nipples. Vince used to call them his tits, loved to play with them, dress Ryker up in pretty lace and call him babygirl. Ryker lets his eyes fall shut as he tries to keep himself from squirming. “I’m- I’m not a rookie anymore,” he breathes, in case Vince had forgotten. Ryker desperately hopes Vince won’t care. “You haven’t played 82 games yet, so you still count,” Vince croons, nibbling at Ryker’s ear, and Ryker thinks it’s the sweetest thing the man has ever said to him. “Not even 40 yet, right? Plus, until you get yourself a cup-” Vince nips hard, causing Ryker to squeak- “I’ll always pull rank over you, pretty boy. You’re mine.” Ryker’s dick kicks in his jock.

[aparticularbandit]

The Rehabilitation of Agatha Harkness: Prologue

Summary: Being a ghost isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

next chapter

Being a ghost, admittedly, is not all it’s cracked up to be.

Sure, sure, she could haunt a few people – Jen, in particular, would be hilarious – Look, you’re unbound!  But now you’re stuck with me forever! Hahahaha! – but that would get boring after a while.  You can only knock so many shitty edible candles off a shelf before it gets old.  She’s not a cat, after all.

Besides, there really aren’t that many people Agatha wants to haunt.  In fact, the one she wants most is apparently already dead, which defeats the purpose.  Maybe she should be more surprised that Wanda isn’t a ghost, haunting one of her precious baby boys.  But that would involve knowing that one or the other had survived, and from what Agatha picks up here and there, she doesn’t seem to have known.

Pity.

(Agatha doesn’t dwell on that thought.  She doesn’t like the implications.)

Which really just leaves the boy.

Teen.

Billy.

Who, also admittedly, has enough going on without having a ghost hanging around, but let’s be real here, that’s precisely why he needs her.  Because otherwise he’s going to get his head up his ass about accidentally killing all those people and then he’s going to start having those stupid teenage feelings where he blames himself for everything and then he’s going to start thinking he’s a horrible person when really he’s just an average person with very strong powers that he doesn’t know how to control.

Like a lot of baby witches.

How many witches could have been saved if they believed Lilia?  (How many more could have been saved if she’d stopped running when others stopped listening?)

How many witches could Alice have protected if she hadn’t denied the very existence of magic?  (And how could she deny it when it crackles along the skin and in the veins?  Every witch worth their salt can feel it!  And yet.)

How many witches – and non-witches – could Jen have helped if she’d realized she still had the ability to craft potions the same way she always did?  (How many more if her magic hadn’t been bound?)

Okay, so maybe not just baby witches.

Control requires lessons from a teacher who knows what they’re doing, who has been there, who has enough power of their own to prevent disaster from occurring while the baby witch tests their wings – to catch them when they fall (because they will always, inevitably, fall).

Normally, that person is someone within the family lineage, since most witchcraft is passed down from one to the other.  Even outside of blood magic, usually there is someone within the family with the unique focus that their descendant holds.  In Billy’s case, that would be his dear departed mother.  Wanda, however, if found early enough, would likely have an upbringing much more similar to Lilia’s – her family would find a witch (or coven) who could train her, and she would learn from her.  Of course, then she might not have become the Scarlet Witch.

Dominoes and time and wibbly-wobbly bullshit with one thing leading into the other and something about the flap of a butterfly’s wings causing hurricanes and destruction and why, exactly, is it always destruction?  Why can’t the flap of a butterfly’s wings cause a soft wind to carry a ship safely into harbor?  Why is it always bad when someone steps in and changes something about the past?

….

She’s getting a little off track here.

The point is that little Billy Maximoff, who is not so little anymore, needs a teacher if he’s going to keep from killing people in the future.

And he’s going to need someone to blame so that he can keep that holier than thou heroism about him.

Which he doesn’t need, exactly, and it’s going to get torn away from him eventually, but it seems like the not killing thing is a really big deal to him, and he’ll probably have a whole identity crisis if he realizes he’s killed anyone by accident, so it would be better to pop on over and—

~

Being a ghost, admittedly, is not all it’s cracked up to be.

Most people would think that living forever would mean having a lot of friends, but really it means that everyone else dies, and you’re left behind while the world moves on as though you’re nothing more than a thorn in its side.

Billy Maximoff, it seems, is a mixture of two things.

And, no, she does not mean Billy Maximoff and William Kaplan.

One of them is that judgmental, holier than thou prick that was once his mother.

The other….

Well. Agatha will hang around with him for a little while longer.  At least he won’t be boring.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

Therapy for literally anyone in 911

thanks ever so much for letting me use this to untangle (at least somewhat) these silly buddie boys

this can also be found on ao3 - and it will prolly make more sense after the first chapter

It’s been two months since Buck stopped fighting, two months since Eddie showed up at the location of the underground fighting ring and dragged him to the hospital. Of course, it’s been a long two months, the kind of months that feel like you lived multiple years within each one. It’s not all been bad. Eddie and Buck finally admitted their feelings for each other and are slowly starting dating—which really isn’t much different than how they were before, just with more times out just the two of them.

This has been one of the good things—Eddie is sitting in the waiting room while Buck is in their therapist's office. Their therapist—that’s still wild to think they share this and so much more now. The way this has been going is Buck gets 40 minutes if he needs it. They get 20-30 minutes for the two of them together, and Eddie gets some time afterward. He’s working through a few things he didn’t bother with when he briefly did this therapy thing after his own time in the fighting ring. Buck has put his foot down and said if he’s working through all of his stuff, then so will Eddie. They’re getting mentally healthier for each other—and Christopher.

Christopher has taken to Buck and Eddie actually being together remarkably well. Of course, he’s never shied away from his love for Buck. So, other than a few more times when they go out without him, it’s not like things have changed a lot for him yet. At some point in the future, it may, though. Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever want anyone other than Buck. He knows they need to take things slow, not necessarily glacial, but slow to protect themselves and everyone else. Neither of them necessarily has the best track record when it comes to dating. So for now, they hang out and go on dates with the added bonus of kissing and …

Eddie’s thoughts are interrupted when the door to the office opens, and the therapist motions him in. He walks in and notices that Buck looks a bit nervous. He doesn’t know what that might mean, but he just has to hope it’s not bad. He sits down next to Buck in his usual spot for therapy and smiles at him. He gets a smile back, and it relieves a little of the anxiety that was ramping up. Buck’s smiles have always had an insane effect on him, even before he realized why that might be.

Their therapist sits across from them and starts. “Eddie, Buck has something he wants to tell you to start this week's joint session. I will go over to my desk to give you a moment, but I’m here if you need me.”

Eddie’s confused. Why would they not stay in the usual spot for their sessions? Isn’t that the point of all this? He turns to Buck, who still looks slightly nervous but less than when Eddie came in. Buck smiles at him, and he feels the anxiety that is starting to ratchet up again recede. How it took him so long to realize what he actually feels for Buck still amazes him.

“Eddie, I need to let you know that I remember a few things from when I was in and out of consciousness at the hospital after surgery.”

“Okay …”

“I remember you saying you love me.”

Oh. “Oh.” That’s a development Eddie doesn’t know what to do with.

“I want to tell you, and not because of that; I know we haven’t said that yet—at least not outside our heads and both conscious, but—I love you.”

“Oh, Buck …” Eddie’s brain has yet to catch up with his mouth, so he’s unsure what to say next. He wants to kiss him and let him know that way that he also loves him, but he probably actually needs to say the words. “Buck, I love you, I’ve loved you for so long, and honestly, I think I first realized it when I was stuck in that damn well. When I didn’t know if I was getting out of there, you and Christopher were the people who kept me fighting. I had wanted to tell you then, but I got nervous, and then stuff happened so fast, and before I knew it, so much time had already passed. I missed my opportunity, or so I thought, so I kept my feelings to myself, sat on them, and they continued growing.” He stops to take a breath, and Buck lets out a giggle that Eddie doesn’t get to hear often but treasures every time he does.

“Eddie, I … you know this wasn’t a contest. You didn’t hafta take my love confession and blow it out of the water. But since you did, I’m not going to bother with a grand love confession. I will repeat, however, that I love you. Have for so much longer than I knew.”

Eddie leans across the loveseat, and his lips find Buck’s; they kiss slowly, just lips, then tongue, then Eddie nipping at Buck’s lip with teeth. Eddie sighs into the kiss; he knows they can’t stay like this no matter how much he wants to, so he pulls back. Eddie pulls back and laughs when Buck’s lips chase his before leaning in and whispering, “Later. We’ll come back to this later.”

Buck leans toward him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I intend to hold you to that.” Eddie looks forward to it.

Their therapist is joining them again, saying, “That went well. Based on what I turned back around to, I'm assuming there isn’t anything you need to discuss, but if there is, we can do that now.”

Eddie looks at Buck and shakes his head. There is nothing more he needs to say about this at the moment, at least not with just their therapist. All he wants to do is repeatedly tell Buck that he loves him—he wants to shout it from the rooftops and tell the world. Buck smiles as if he’s heard all of Eddie’s internal dialogue and turns toward their therapist, replying, “No. We’re all good right now.”

“Perfect. So, shall we pick up where we left off last week?” The rest of the appointment goes by so fast. Their joint session ends and Buck leaves the room for a bit. Eddie feels so much lighter for one of the first times since he started therapy. He feels complete. He’s ready to tackle whatever comes, with Buck at his and Christopher’s sides.