#i don't feel much better about it and maybe i never will but i think that's fine

[cherryyluvs]

Late Night Confessions

late night calls and movie nights with you slowly turn into something more.

It started with late night calls. They were innocent, Mark would call you after a long night of fighting villains or finishing his part time in Burger Mart. Just to hear that sweet voice of yours before bed.

“You ever just sit on your roof at 2am and think about how weird life is?” He said one night, voice laced with exhaustion and fondness.

“Mark it’s 2 am.” You whined sleepily. Burying yourself deeper into your blankets. “And you're still wearing your suit, aren't you?”

“… Maybe,” He admitted, a sheepish chuckle slipping through the phone. “But if i take it off now, that means i have to get up and shower and i'm way too comfy talking to you.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side. “You're the worst”

“And yet, you're still on the phone with me.” He teased

You rolled your eyes but the smile on your face was undeniable. The calls became a routine after that. He would call you when he was tired, when he was happy, when he wanted to just hear your voice. And honestly? You didn't mind one bit.

Then came the movie nights, they started as a casual thing. Just two best friends hanging out and binge watching cheesy action films or terrible romcoms while demolishing a ridiculous amount of popcorn.

Tonight, though something felt.. Different.

You were both sprawled out on his couch, snuggled up next to Mark, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket that was his but you'd stolen it ages ago. And a ridiculous superhero movie playing in the background, but neither of you were paying attention. Your head was resting against Mark’s shoulder, and at some point he hesitantly draped an arm around you.

You pretended to not notice the way his heart was racing. “Okay but tell me why this guy just threw a whole car at the villain instead of, i don't know? Punching him?” Mark muttered, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you were curled up against him. You giggled, feeling his voice vibrate through his chest.

“I don't know invincible, maybe you should take notes.” He groaned, tilting his head back against the couch, “Don't remind me. I get that enough of that from william” You hummed in amusement, snuggling a little closer.

Mark stiffened for a moment before relaxing. He wanted to say something but every time he worked up the courage, the words were stuck in his throat.

Now or never.

He took a deep breath. “Hey uh, can i tell you something?”

“Hmm?” you replied, eyes half lidded from the warmth and comfort. His throat went dry. This was not how he pictured confessing, he had a whole plan! Flowers maybe. But with your head leaning against his shoulder, he couldn't think straight.

God why am I like this?

“I, uh like you. A lot! Like more than just friends kind of like you.” You froze, looking at his face, he was so red. Like, cartoon tomato face red.

“Mark..”

“And i know that was super awkward, and i totally just ruined the movie night but i had to say it befor-”

“Mark.”

He gulped. “Yeah?” You smiled, soft and mischievous. “Just kiss me already.”

His breath hitched, eyes wide as you reached the collar of his shirt and pulled him down. The moment your lips met, he melted. Completely.

Every late night call, every lingerie glance, every accidental touch , it all led to this.

Judging by the way you were smiling against his lips, you'd been waiting for this just as much as he had. The warmth of his lips , nervous but eager. It was all so sweet.

When you finally pulled away, his face was still red and grinning like an absolute idiot. “So… does this mean I can finally stop pretending I don't stare at you when you laugh?” You snorted, swatting his chest.

“You stare at me? Mark!”

“Hey! That's unfair. You can't just exist and be this cute. It's distracting !” He huffed, burying his face in your shoulder.

You couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled up. “Well, if it makes you feel better i also stare at you too.”

Mark smiled “Great. So we've both been embarrassing this whole time.”

“Yup” you said, popping the ‘p’ with a smile. “But now we get to be embarrassing together.” He beamed at you, eyes soft and full of something deep. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

You settled back into the couch, Mark pulling you more closer and you knew. This was only the start.

[alskyllhasarrived]

Okay, so, getting marketed like one of those dogs with no back legs and mange up the wazoo was a bit demeaning, but honestly, I could get used to it.

My "foster owner" was good to me, had poured the money out of their own pocket to get me a wheelchair, proper medication, and a diagnosis, something I'd not even been able to get back home. Getting the human equivalent of kibble and wet food wasn't ideal, but it didn't taste bad, and it was nutritionally complete, so I couldn't complain.

I couldn't even complain about getting picked up and babied constantly. My body typically felt like it wanted to crumble under its own weight at all times, and it was such a relief to be held.

They loved it too. It was the first thing they showed all prospective owners. "This one likes to be picked up! Most humans don't, you'll quite enjoy a lap pet!"

Well, except no one wanted a fucked-up dog. Even well cared for, it didn't change that I was genetically effed. I think they were starting to consider giving up. Someone had offered to adopt me, but they couldn't afford all my medications, and were planning to drop some of the less-necessary.

"C'mere! Want a treat?"

They didn't need to wrap my pills in cheese, I'd take anything that made me feel better, but who was I to pass up a piece of cheese?

They scooped me out of my wheelchair after I'd swallowed the cheese-wrapped pill, gently stroking my head. "Sorry, boy. No one yet."

That didn't sound like a problem. This one was nice. They gave good head scratches, and I felt better than I had in years.

"I'll have to send you back to the shelter if I can't find someone."

Well, shit. I'd been at the shelter for a short while before they'd sent me to be fostered. Something about me not being healthy enough for the shelter environment. I agreed, they couldn't keep up on my medications, and there was no wheelchair there, so I just got to rawdog my disabilities, something I hadn't even done before this.

"Or I could keep you. You can get along with others, right?"

That was the problem. They had to foster others too. If I could get along with other humans, well, they could keep me and foster others, if not, back to the shelter.

I'd never been much of a people person, but if that's what it took, so be it. I rolled over and stretched out on their lap.

They laughed. "How about we run a test? I'll bring my brother's human over for a week, and if you two can get along without fighting, I don't see why I couldn't keep you for myself."

I'd met the brother's human once. Some neurotypical, able-bodied person. It certainly wouldn't be easy, that type liked to pick fights with me. But I'd play nice. Maybe just run over their toes "on accident" if they pissed me off.

If it meant I could stay here, I'd do anything.

You have been kidnapped by an entity above your comprehension, only to find out that you are effectively a rescue animal saved from a very serious disease. Due to how good it all looks, you decide to do everything in your power to be "adopted" into your new forever home.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

DEATHSTROKE!READER HEADCANONS CUZ YALL LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

Deathstroke reader's hair is fried, like it was back when they used to be Robin. They used to straighten their hair to an unreasonable amount. Actually, think of Steph back in her Robin days—that was literally the reader's hair back when they were Robin, but it didn't work well for their hair type, resulting in terrible and irreversible hair damage. When they joined Deathstroke, they shaved all their hair off and started fresh. Fresh hair. The reader has a buzz cut that is gelled to be spiky and styled; it's actually pretty good. They used to dye their hair a lot, like blonde, which also contributed to the hair damage. Last but not least, the Wilson family loves to rub your freshly buzzed hair.

Deathstroke reader has acne around their face, which is basically your fault because you wear a lot of makeup, causing some acne. Also, your mask makes you sweat, clogging your pores. You've been thinking about getting a skincare routine, but you're too lazy, so Rose does your skincare every now and then. Your acne isn't really noticeable; it's just there. But as long as you keep up with those face masks, you'll be fine.

Deathstroke reader is non-binary; they go by all pronouns and wear both masculine and feminine clothing. They used to only wear masculine clothes back in their Robin days because they hated femininity due to their mother. I'll get into this deeper in a later fic. Deathstroke reader is also around 19 to mid-20s; I wanted to make them older compared to the other readers, who are either in high school or in college. Deathstroke reader is pretty tall, like basketball-level tall, standing right next to Slade's shoulder.

Deathstroke reader smokes; Rose does too, and I'm pretty sure I saw a comic where Slade smokes. It runs in the family, I guess, but you can't find your lighter anywhere—borrowed by Rose, or you lost it some way, somehow. So you find intricate ways to light a cigarette. Hell yeah, the Flash's electric speed definitely helps your Green Lantern boyfriend light your cigarette for you. Totally, Deathstroke reader will literally walk up to Bruce, smoking in his face. The rest of the Bat Family hates the fact that you smoke, scolding you and saying it's bad for you, like you're some child, even though you're about to be pushing 30. It gets on your nerves.

Deathstroke reader isn't much into relationships; mostly, they have meaningless flings. When you're thinking about getting into a relationship, you're already waking up with someone gone. You have an ongoing fling with Constantine—not a serious relationship, really; it’s routine at this point. You call him up for a favor or he does, and you both get a drink, maybe a smoke. You end up at his dank apartment, then you leave the next day. You don't intend on staying, and you don't intend on loving him either, but he's developing warm feelings in his chest because of you. You always have to remind him it's just a fling. Roy, on the other hand, isn't so easily persuaded. That ginger will not believe it started as a one-time thing. The moment he saw you playing around with Lian was the moment he declared you his. So gentle with her, so sweet; you only say it's because you have siblings, but he knows better. The nights you two spent together are passionate and sweet, but you always seem to leave his bed with no intention of coming back. You're breaking his heart.

When Deathstroke reader was Robin, they had internalized misogyny within them, not just because the Robin mantle used to be for guys, but also because of their relationship with their mom. Think about the "I Hate My Mom" song by GRLwood—like, they used to hate almost anything feminine because it reminded them of their mother: long nails, makeup, eyelashes, dresses, skirts, all that stuff. It's not until they worked with Slade that they started to embrace this part of themselves. You're not like your mother; you never will be. It doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't make you any less strong. That's something I can understand—makeup and flashy clothing, embracing yourself more.

Deathstroke reader is brutal when it comes to fights; they do not fight fair at all—biting, slapping, scratching, kicking—almost anything. Sure, they do know fighting styles, but their greatest strengths are brute force and ambushing their attacker with punches to the point where they're unable to react. You had a fight with Cass one time, and you dominated her with hits over and over again, not letting her let up. Sure, she can read body movements, but yours are so aggressive that it's honestly too hard to fight back. You're pummeling Damien like he's not your little brother, more like a stray dog on the street begging for scraps. Your head-butting Jason's Red Hood mask, making cracks in his mask and giving him a black eye in the process. Sure, your head was ringing for at least an hour, but it was worth seeing the shock on his face. You remember one time Bruce visited you at Arkham Asylum—the asylum he put you in—trying to manipulate you into coming home. You jumped across the table, beating the shit out of him. It took multiple nurses to get you off of him. Anytime the Bat Family comes to visit, especially Bruce, you're stuck in a straitjacket with a glass wall in front of you. There's literally a struggle at Arkham to try and get you into the meeting room. They have to roll you in a wheelchair like luggage out of an airport because you tried to escape multiple times, but it always fails, and you're stuck in that meeting room. They're rambling on and on, saying they'll bring you back home. Yeah, right.

[starrihan]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSMovrvKv/

girl i saw this tiktok and just IMAGINE HOW DOMINANT SUNOO/SUNGHOON would be in bed after finding out you admire idols other than them as their non-idol gf like 🤯

and the moment they find out through peeping the through your phone that you have other idols in your gallery they would call you greedy and will start to remind you how they can give you ANYTHING OUT OF THEIR JEALOUSY

no because him saying that on live was actually crazy but yes this SCREAMS sunsun!!! like they're both so sassy and i feel like Sunghoon is outwardly possessive but Sunoo is secretly possessive. like when he lets Jungwon use his skincare and he acts like its fine but he actually hates it he just doesn't wanna tell anyone. i used idols from other groups i hope thats okay! Sunoo would overcompensate while Sunghoon would punish you

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

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Sunghoon:

He would have you face down, ass up, white-knuckling the sheets as he pounds into you, always stopping before you can actually cum.

"You think Soobin could make you feel this good huh? Would you let him see you like this, ass up in the air and pushing back on my dick like a needy whore? Such a greedy girl."

You frantically shake your head 'no', needing him to let you cum as soon as possible. But he's not buying it. Instead, he yanks your head back by your hair, whispering low in your ear as you wince at the sting radiating throughout the back of your head.

"Really? Then scream. Scream my name so loud that you never forget who you belong to, the only person that could ever make you feel this good. Maybe I'll let you cum then."

You muster up all the energy you have, screaming his name as loud as your vocal chords will allow you to. You needed this release, having been edged too many times for your foggy mind to keep up with.

"PLEASE SUNGHOON!!! I ONLY BELONG TO YOU!!!"

How he had so much control was beyond you. He's had you like this for at least an hour and hasn't cum once himself either. His patience has no bounds when it comes to you, it seems.

Your clenching walls indicate your approaching release to him, speeding up as he can tell you're on the brink— before pulling away from you for the nth time in a row.

"I know you can do much better than that, you dirty whore. Try again"

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Sunoo:

"Don't ever think about having a picture of another man in your phone again."

He'd say, harshly nipping at the fragile skin around your neck, hips making quick work of you, cum seeping out of your hole, both yours and his. You can only nod your head 'yes', the overstimulation catching up to you. Your lip was bitten raw trying to keep yourself from drooling all over, orgasm after orgasm the only thing on your mind.

"What? Too dumb to speak actual words? And not even an apology either? How greedy you truly are..."

You're panting at this point, unable to produce any sounds save for a couple of small whimpers here and there, even the ability to speak being taken away from you in this moment. As you prepare for what felt like your 100th release of the night, you manage to croak out a weak apology.

"Sunoo... I'm sorry please... I can't, t-take it..."

He snickers as a smirk draws onto his face, not buying it one bit.

"Tsk, shut up. Greedy whores don't get to beg for forgiveness, especially after I gave you so many chances before. Take what you so desperately deserve and remind yourself that no one else would ever make you feel as good as I can."

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-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

[reiding-writing]

Hello!

I don't know if your 3k event is still open but could I possibly ask for Boyband!Reid with the dialogue prompt "How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers" and the trope of admiring their facial features and seeing not just the outer structure but the person that they are?

Thank you so much and make sure to look after yourself!

HEAD IN HAND. /spencer reid/

“How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers,”

admiring their facial features and seeing not just the outer structure but the person that they are.

s6! spencer x fem!reader 0.7k h/c event masterlist. main masterlist.

You blink slowly, the world tilting in and out of focus like you’re watching it through a warped lens. Your head throbs in slow, insistent pulses, and you can feel the sharp sting of something wet at your temple. Blood, probably. Or sweat. Maybe both. You’re too disoriented to tell the difference.

The room spins when you try to move, so you stop moving. Good plan. Better to stay still. But then you feel a hand—a familiar hand—cradling the side of your face, guiding you with careful, deliberate tenderness.

“Hey, hey, eyes open, that’s it,” Reid murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. You focus on the sound because it’s steadier than your surroundings, more familiar. More real.

You blink again and catch a flash of his face—the sharp curve of his jawline, the faint freckle near the corner of his mouth, the way his hair, damp from the rain, curls slightly at the ends. It sticks to his forehead in unruly waves, framing the wide-eyed panic he’s trying to suppress.

His brows pinch together, and he lets out a shaky breath, eyes flickering over you like he’s cataloging every scrape and bruise. He lifts his hand in front of your face. You can’t tell if he’s trembling or if your vision is just playing tricks on you.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” His voice is gentle but firm, trying to anchor you.

You squint at the blurred edges of his fingers. They swim together in your vision, doubling and doubling again until the answer is a confused mumble:

“Six?”

Reid’s mouth quirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He exhales a sharp breath that’s almost a laugh but not quite. The sound is too tight, too worried.

“...I don’t have six fingers,” he says softly, and you can hear the careful levity in his voice—the desperate attempt to keep things light when everything feels heavy.

Your eyes drift back to his face. You can’t help it. Even as the pain pulses behind your eyes, your gaze clings to him. To the slant of his nose, slightly crooked from that time he broke it years ago. To the fullness of his lower lip, bitten raw from nerves. To the faint lines at the corners of his eyes that only show up when he smiles—the ones you trace in your mind, wondering how many more you’ll get to see form over the years.

“You’re staring at me,” He mutters.

And you don’t just see his face—you see him. The way he furrows his brow when he’s explaining something too fast, only to circle back and make sure you’re following. The way he tucks his hair behind his ears when he’s nervous. The way his eyes soften when you’re tired, or frustrated, or just existing near him. You see the way he always reaches for your hand last—after everyone else—just to give you one final squeeze before letting go.

You sigh wistfully. “Yeah,”

His thumb brushes over your temple, smudging away blood or sweat or maybe nothing at all, just a gesture to soothe. You feel his palm against your cheek, steady and warm. His hand lingers there, longer than it should. You think you might be imagining it.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, his lips tugging into the smallest smile. “You’re gonna be okay,”

You try to laugh, but it comes out more like a breath. And for a moment, you forget about the pain, because you’re too busy looking at him, seeing him, and wondering how you never realised he was so beautiful.

[johnwickb1tsch]

the reason I asked...

(in reference to this poll X) is because I was having a little half-asleep brain rot about bittersweet AUs, like, what if...

reader managed to actually escape John, maybe after Dante attacked the house the first time? you waited for the paramedics to arrive to stabilize him, and then in all the chaos of the 911 response you slip out and steal the RangeRover. ( @sweetwolfcupcake has brilliantly pointed out that Reader would want to escape if for example, John betrayed her trust and followed thru on that spanking 😱😱 Like this version of John is more clinically unhinged)

you drive alllll the way across the country, as far as you can get from New York. surely you can disappear in a huge city like L.A.?

when you try to sell the Rover to a chop shop for cash it backfires on you. you find yourself a captive again. thinking you're a rich kid runaway, they plan to ransom you, but you won't tell them who you are.

lucky you, these bad dudes have been on Tom Ludlow's radar. he raids the shop and kills them alllllllllll. off the books of course. then he's left with the problem of what the hell to do with you?

you wake up at his house, in his bed. at first you're scared of course, but he talks you down, shows you his badge, and explains the tricky situation you're in. he framed the massacre as gang on gang violence. are you going to rat him out?

of course you're not, you're not stupid. you raise him one better when you tell him the situation you just escaped. no, beFORE the gangsters. yes, you really were being held captive [in luxury] by a retired Underworld hitman. no, you don't know if he survived, but if he did you know he'll be looking for you eventually.

Tom does you a solid and offers to get you a new identity. a fresh start. you're floored by his generosity. why would he do that for you? he says he's just trying to do some good in this world that's mostly bad. it's a losing war, but sometimes he wins a small battle, and it keeps him in the fight.

you're so grateful that while you wait for his guy to come through with your new papers, you clean up his messy bachelor pad of a house. you find old photos and lots of empty liquor bottles, and you reason he's either divorced, or a widower.

when he comes home to a clean house and the smell of real food cooking in the kitchen you kind of knock this unflappable man off his feet. he is touched by the gesture, and stunned by how much he likes it, and how much he missed it. maybe towards the end, his wife gave up on trying to have dinner on the table for him because he was never home when he said he would be.

you don't know it, but you've ignited a little fire in Tom, awakening something he thought was long dead. he doesn't act on it. he feels like a piece of shit for even thinking about it. you’re a good kid, and you've been through so much. but a part of him understands why a man who is damned to the darkness would covet a piece of your warmth and your light for himself.

he tells you that you can stay as long as you want. but you feel bad, invading his space. you need a job. a place of your own. to get out of his hair. so he helps you with that too. you find a job at a cute little coffee house in Santa Monica. hey, its what you know. you sublet a room from someone Tom seems to trust. when you move out you kiss Tom on the cheek in thank you. you have no idea how much it kills him to let you go.

you feel like you have a new lease on life. you like your job. you like the warm weather in L.A., and being so close to the beach. Tom still comes in to check on you now and then. This is where you meet a handsome young S.W.A.T. officer named Jack Traven. He comes in sometimes for a flat white and a bran muffin. his smile could stop a woman’s heart at twenty paces. maybe you do flirt with him a little, but you keep it light. then…he starts coming in every morning.

Tom sees the two of you bantering and batting eyes one morning. you cannot know the way it feels like getting shanked between the ribs for him. of course he rolls his eyes with a smirk, putting up his usual front. “Don’t believe a word this guy says, sweetheart, he’s just a meathead from SWAT.” but deep down, Tom realizes he is jealous.

maybe you run into Jack at the bar down the street one night when you're feeling especially lonely. he’s celebrating a successful hostage release. no one died, not even the perp. he invites you to hang out with his friends and fellow officers. you lean on Jack’s [ridiculously muscled] arm, listening to the stories they tell with that devil-may-care bluster cops need to keep going to such a dangerous job day after day. it squeezes your heart, that he risks his life for people he doesn’t even know, because he truly cares. even if deep down you know its a bad idea, you end up going home with him that night. 

Jack continues to come see you at the coffee house. he tries to ask you out on a proper date. you can tell he wants you to be his girlfriend, he wants to treat you right. maybe Tom calls him a meathead, but there is not a cell of fuckboy in this man, bless him. he told you about how he just wants the simple things in life. a good woman. healthy kids. a little postage stamp of grass to mow. for a crazy three seconds you allow yourself to think about it. what would it be like, to be the one he comes home to? gentle kisses in the morning. date night trips to dinner and the movies. a little house. a dog. a picket fence. you could take your babies to the beach, and maybe nothing bad would ever happen… you know it’s not possible for you, and the unfairness of it churns as sharply in your belly as if you swallowed a bag full of glass. he's so sweet, so good, but there is a curse on you, and you're afraid something bad might happen to Jack if he gets involved with you.

what would John Wick do, if he found you living happily with another man? he’s still out there, somewhere. Tom checked for death certificates in New York [and how stupid are you, that a part of you is glad he's not dead?]. your only hope is to keep flying under the radar, living like a ghost. it kills you inside to tell him, “I wish I could. But there are things you don't know about me.”

he's not as surprised by this as you thought he might be. “I'm a cop, y/n. I kind of have a sense for when people are in trouble. you can talk to me.” what he doesn’t say is he has a sense for when people are hiding things. this boy has an incurable case of the White Knight Syndrome, and you can tell he's not going to give up easily. 

you really do try to keep him at arm’s length, but it’s humanly impossible to resist the impulse to flirt with that man. of course, Tom would come in on the day Jack saves you from falling backwards off a ladder–with a hand on your ass. they don’t even exchange words, but somehow the tension in the room between these two men is electric.  

a week or so later you're returning home at night when you find Tom Ludlow leaning on the wall outside your apartment. you can tell just by the way he's standing that he's a little drunk. “out late with Meathead?” he grumbles, his disheveled hair in his dark eyes. 

you stop a little ways from him. you can tell he's in a mood, but maybe underneath that, this man is a little fragile. you have a feeling you might be the only one who gets to see it. “What’s wrong, Tom?” he sighs, shuffles to you, rests his forehead against yours, and you let him. this man saved you when you had no one. this is the least you can do for him–and you have a soft spot for this cranky cop who bends the law to do the right thing.

but maybe you are a little surprised, when he draws back to look at you, those soulful puppy dog eyes fixing on your mouth a moment before he presses his lips to yours. you have to say you definitely don’t hate it, and you're breathless when he pulls away. “shit. y/n…i’m sorry.” “that’s ok.” you reach up to touch his cheek, and he leans into your hand like a needy puppy that doesn’t realize how big he is. you could taste the vodka on his tongue. you’d found the bottles before, of course, but in that short time you’d lived with him he didn’t really drink much. you wonder if he’s slipped backwards again. “where’s your car? I’m going to drive you home.” he grumbles something into the bend of your neck, but in the end he hands over his keys. 

driving in L.A. is a lot easier in a muscle car with a lightbar on the roof. people just magically get out of your way. you bundle Tom back into his home with an arm around his waist. as soon as you get through the front door you see his house is in disarray again, since you haven't been here. some men really do revert back to savages, without a woman to keep them accountable. struggling under his weight, you somehow manage to stumble/drag him to his bed, laying him down in the sheets that obviously haven’t been washed since the last time you laundered them. “I missed you, so much,” he groans, half passed out, as you unlace his boots. 

“Tom…” it truly breaks your heart, to see him living like this. the impulse to try to save him is as strong as it is misguided. but sometimes…people just need a little help, and that’s ok. He doesn’t ask you to, but you lay down in the bed beside him and wrap your arms around his solid trunk of a torso, moulding your body against his. you know there is something healing in just snuggling with another human being–and you’re lonely too.   “Are you sleeping with Meathead?” he slurs, on the edge of sleep.  “Why do you call him that?” you counter, trying to keep things light, and not answer direct questions about Jack. “You’re just as built as he is.” you squeeze his bicep appreciatively, winning a sound that suddenly reminds you of a lion in his den. he turns to you, a dark light in those brown eyes that makes your heart stop in your chest.  “Yeah?”  you have to try twice before you find your voice. “Yeah.” this time, maybe it’s you that cranes your neck for a kiss that curls your toes, and he can’t stop himself from rolling onto you with a moan, his solid weight pressing you down deliciously into the the bed. but then he makes himself stop again, resting his forehead against yours with a sigh. “You don’t owe me anything, babygirl.”  “I do,” you counter, “but that’s not what this is about.”  “What’s it about, then?”  “Well. I kind of like you.”  he snorts, that glitter in his eyes that drives you a little crazy inside. is it stupid, that you feel like he isn’t in as much danger as Jack? is he more lethal, or do you callously just feel deep down that he doesn’t have his whole life ahead of him, the way your pretty SWAT hunk does? you’re not really sure, but when Tom’s big hand dips into your jeans you’re not strong enough to say no. 

you’re there at the coffee house, the day the bus blows up on the street outside. The news crews swarm, interviewing anyone they can for a sound byte. you try to stay off the cameras, but it’s too late. there are too many before you’re allowed to go home, and you end up on the national news. 

hardly a week goes by, before you are at work again, some of the windows boarded up, still broken from the blast. you’ve got your back turned, putting the lid on a café mocha, double checking that it's tight when you sense someone is at the counter. “I’ll be right there,” you call over your shoulder. 

a quiet voice from your past sends a chill to the bottom of your soul. “I think I’m in the mood for something sweet.”  you jump, spilling the scalding hot mocha all over the counter. slowly you turn to find him, the way you’ve always feared you would, handsome as the devil himself in an all black suit. he doesn’t seem angry, but there is a glint of sharp steel in his black eyes that warns you not to try anything cute.  “John,” you whisper, your voice utterly failing you in the face of your doom. With panic in your eyes you look around at all the people in the shop. All the witnesses. “Please…don’t.”  “Come quietly, and I won’t.”  he sounds so reasonable. you know it’s just a facade. 

you’re so filled with fear that you feel like you’re in a daze, like you’re not really in control of your own body, as you nod, wipe your hands, and make your way around the counter to him. he doesn’t grab you. he doesn’t even have to touch you. he just nods at the door, and you follow him out into the bright California sunlight. you know immediately which car is his, the midnight-black ‘69 Mustang parked in the alley on the side of the building. 

you’re ten paces from the muscle car when you hear another voice you know all too well behind you. “Freeze, motherfucker! Hands where I can see them!” 

No no no no please don’t not for me please God not for me...

the two of you turn slowly and your heart falls to see not only Tom Ludlow with his service pistol drawn, but Jack Traven as well... 

[scribbledswans]

✦ slivers of heaven

At the end of the day, 007n7's life was full of the atrocities he made others suffer through. In the middle of the night, your arms are a cage that makes him wonder what he did to deserve you.

WARNINGS: Fluff :3 this work is also up on ao3

He truly believes doesn't deserve this. Cradled in the loving cage of your arms, 007n7 watches you rest peacefully. Your breathing is slow, and calm: reminiscent of the ocean lapping waves against the shore. The tide of your chest meets the beach of his arms when you sigh and pull him closer. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck, little strands of your hair tickling his face as he breathes you in. He doesn't deserve this, but you give it to him anyway— the little slivers of heaven you grant him, tucked away neatly behind closed doors. Out of everyone, he was the one that got to share your affections.

007n7 couldn't bring himself to ask why, as though the burden of telling him would make you change your mind. After everything— all the chaos he caused in his life, all of the stories told about him— you still choose to love him. He would do just about anything for you if it meant retaining that. Luckily, you don't ask him for much. Asking to share a bed tonight was the most you'd ever asked of him, in fact. He feels your hand trace down to his lower back, and he looks up at you, your eyes lidded with sleep. 007n7 pulls away slightly, trying not to disturb you, only for you to pull him back in with a little huff. One of your hands goes to cup his cheek, drowsiness slurring your words as you speak, "You're starin' at me." He leans into your touch, melting against your hand. You're warm, so warm, it feels like he's been cold his whole life and he's finally stepping into the sun. "Admiring you. I don't get to see you this peaceful." 007n7 responds quietly, kissing your palm, "Go back to sleep, my love. I'm still here." You hum fondly, and press a kiss against his forehead. Butterflies flutter into his stomach when he kisses your cheek in return. When you giggle a little bit, he smiles sheepishly, basking in your laugh. "C'mere," You say, peppering his face and neck with gentle kisses.

He makes a small, startled sound, feeling his heart soar at the affection. It's a saccharine feeling, something he finds himself yearning for at times of high stress. The feeling of your hands on the nape of his neck or tangled in his hair, your soft lips against his— all of it. Being alone with you feels like a cruel god's final blessing, something he better not take for granted or it'll be ripped away suddenly and never come back. 007n7 carefully tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, kissing your jaw gently after. He notes the way you shiver at his touch, and the way you pull him closer. God, he used to think he could trade off being loved for being hated, as long as he was known at all. Back then he was wrong, dead wrong. Being loved like this- by someone as kind as you? he wouldn't trade it for anything else. "I don't deserve this kind of love." He whispers into your neck, quietly hoping you don't hear him. You murmur back. "I think you do." And for now, that's all the reassurance he needs. To know that you'll give him this, despite the atrocities of his life, that's all he needs. He nestles his face closer to your neck, savoring the feeling of temporary peace that covers him like a blanket. Whatever he did to deserve this, he's glad he did it. Your breathing becomes steady, slow, and he figures you've fallen asleep again. He blinks slowly, feeling that same peaceful sleep wash over him with time. Thoughts of having met you in life cross his mind like shooting stars. If he had met you when he was fathering coolkid. Maybe you wouldve been able to prevent all of this. That night, 007n7 dreams of a life domestic and sweet.

That night, he dreams of you.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eight

“Uh hu,” Chrissy says into the phone, pacing back and forth across Eddie’s lounge, “so that sounds pretty certain?”

“Who are you talking to?” Eddie asks, Chrissy doesn’t answer.

She smacks Eddie’s legs down off the coffee table so she can make that part of her route. Eddie stares at the muted TV. Mid morning ‘Seinfeld.’ He’s pretty sure ‘Fraser’ will be on right after. Or is it ‘Everybody Loves Raymond.’ ‘Cheers’? maybe.

Eddie flops his head back on the back of the couch. Maybe time is actually cyclical, and he’s living the same shit day over and over again. Or maybe he’s dead, and this is purgatory.

“So can we book Steve for that?” Eddie perks up, looking over the back of the couch, watching.

Book Steve for what? “Book Steve for what?”

Chrissy glares at him, mouthing, ‘shut the fuck up.’

“Uh hu. Uh hu. Okay, send that over to me. No, male Beta is safest, trust me, Eddie’s impulse control is- yeah. Okay, yeah, Tommy, right, I’ll let Eddie know.”

“Hey,” Eddie frowns. Yeah, okay, his impulse control has, maybe, been questionable of late but, fuck. That’s just rude. And who the fuck is Tommy? “Who are you talking-mpfh.”

Chrissy leans over the back of the couch to shove a cushion over Eddie’s face.

Eddie doesn’t fight it. He can kind of breathe, he’s not going to die under here, but ‘Manager murders recovering rock star addict,’ is legitimately a hilarious headline.

“Okay,” the pillow comes off, “they think you’re going to rut again.”

“What? Already?”

“Yeah, basically you fucked with it so much for so long it’s going to take a few goes to settle.”

Eddie flops his head back again, he really doesn’t want to spend another week feeling like a warm gritty turd. “I didn’t fuck with it that much-”

“Eddie, if you weren't suppressing it you were inducing it for a fucking orgy-”

Eddie flaps a hand at her, he doesn’t want to hear it really. He’s fucked a lot of people, and sometimes thinking about the...group activities Eddie has been involved in makes him feel a little dirty. A little sick. Don't get him wrong, he absolutely fucking loved it at the time, then Eddie felt like he was winning at life. He felt like he was peaking. King of the world. Screwing people he didn’t even know the names of. Didn’t care to know their names, even. Now Eddie knows he's so fucking lucky he never caught anything major considering all the risks he took, and no one’s ever come out of the woodwork claiming to have an illegitimate Munson.

Not that there’s anything wrong with it, necessarily, consenting adults and all that jazz but...it’s like finding the best food in the world, and then eating way, way, too much of it.

One day you wake up and just the thought of it is enough to make you throw up.

Eddie’s Alpha bristles at the thought, his stomach turning over. He’d loved it, at the time. Constantly being in a position to dominate everyone around him. His Alpha constantly satisfied. Never being without options for a willing hole to knot, Eddie’s Alpha had been on as much of a rampage as he had. Those times have ended though, and just the thought of it has his Alpha bristling.

Eddie’s Alpha pines for a mate, now. One person, one scent, one nest. Now, the thought of all those mingled scents has him taking shallow breaths trying to clear them. Memories of waking up in damp piles of limbs, covered in the cloying, overwhelming soup of Alpha and Omega scents filling his nose, coating him, suffocating him.

It was fine at the time, but a lot of things were fine at the time.

He briefly flashes on the memory of Steve’s very inoffensive scent. Clean and clear. A sun warmed breeze carrying the scent of something green and alive.

It jogs Eddie back to the present, “is that why you were asking about Steve?”

“Yeah, he can’t do it, you’re having some guy called Tommy.”

“What? Fuck off, no I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, doing his best to reign in his irritation and have a sensible conversation about this, he knows he stands a better chance of actually getting somewhere with Chris if he talks it through, “I only just got used to Steve, I’m not having another stranger in my house again. Please, Chris...I...me and Steve had a system going by the end there.”

Chris sits neatly on the couch next to him, “I know honey, but Steve can’t so-”

“Then I’ll go it alone-”

“Absolutely not. You need someone here to take care of you-”

Eddie scoffs, “I am not a child-”

“Uh hu, someone needs to be here, and it’s not going to be me. No offense but,” she makes a hand wavy motion.

“No, yeah, I get that. Why can’t Steve make it?”

“I don’t-”

“I want Steve. Steve or no one,” Eddie crosses his arms.

Chrissy sighs, rubbing her forehead, “Eddie, I feel like you’re old enough that I shouldn’t have to explain this, but honey, you can’t always have what you want.”

Eddie huffs and stomps off into his bedroom.

Eddie’s done a bit of a lyric pick and mix, and now his chicken scratch stares back at him, mocking.

He’s pretty sure he has something, he just...can’t...make it. There’s got to be a beat in there somewhere. A stupid tune hiding out. Elusive. Cuntish.

Eddie taps at the counter top with his pencil, immediately reminded of Steve and his stupid cross words and his stupid tapping.

Eddie taps. Mirrors Steve. There’s...something, in Steve’s stupid tapping. Maybe-

“Eddie!”

Eddie startles, jolted from his thoughts, good job he’s already sitting down or he’d be on the fucking floor. “What?!” he snaps back.

“I spoke to them, Steve definitely can’t do it, he has PTO next week and that’s likely to be when your ruts going to happen, or at least overlap. He’s dog sitting.”

Eddie pulls a face, deflating, because honestly that sounds like a big fat lie. Steve’s just avoiding him, “dog sitting? For who?”

“Eddie, I don’t know this mans life, come on-”

“I like dogs. Why can’t he just bring the dog?” Eddie can’t resist but poke at it. Will he just make up another lie? Steve never seemed to be the kind to lie like that. Eddie was pretty sure Steve was on the level.

“I-” Chrissy frowns spectacularly, “since when do you like dogs? You don’t like dogs, I had to stop you from punting Paris Hil-”

“I wasn't actually going to do anything to her dog-”

“You called it a ‘vajazzled rat’-”

Eddie immediately looses it, howling with laughter, he can barely speak, “I don’t- I don’t remember saying-”

Chrissy crosses her arms, looking deeply unimpressed, “because you were fucking cross faded Eddie-”

“Oh come on! That’s funny!”

Chrissy sighs, “it is kind of funny. It wasn’t at the time though,” she slaps his shoulder, trying to hold her smile in.

She hits kind of hard actually, “ow,” Eddie rubs his shoulder.

“Shut up you big baby, I’ll go find out if Steve wants to bring the dog.”

“He’s a golden retriever called Falkor, and he belongs to a good friend who is going on holiday. Steve said, if you really truly don’t mind, he will bring the dog-”

“Yeah okay-”

“But the condition is that you will walk the dog, twice a day, with Steve.”

“Why the fuck do I have-”

“I really don’t care Eddie, that’s the deal. Take it or take Tommy. If you refuse to walk Steve’s going to pack up his shit and trade out with the other guy, Steve was very, very clear about it. One strike and you’re out.”

“That does sound like something Steve would say.”

Sitting in the studio is way better than sitting in Gareth’s garden. There’s stuff to do here, distractions, and it takes the attention off. Or at least, spreads it around a little.

“It’s not much,” Eddie is telling the guys as he sits himself at the drum kit. He can play a little, kind of. He’s proficient enough to get his point across at least. He never lasts long though, the pedal makes his shin hurt after about ten minutes and he’s never bothered to push through.

Building callouses on his fingers to play guitar was painful enough, he doesn’t need to suffer any more for his art. It’s not long before Jeff is nodding along regardless, he understands the assignment pretty quick, grasping the bones of it, Eddie can trust him to make it his own.

The bass line is simple, maybe a little too simple for what Eddie usually produces, but it’s enough background noise for Eddie to tentatively wedge the words where he wants them, his guitar slung at his back, headphones half on and half off.

It’s day three, and progress may be tentative, but it feels alright. Feels like the old days. Kind of like starting again.

Eddie does his absolute best to ignore the building itch under his skin.

[givetomurasomechapstick]

Random Period Headcanons ♥ 🩸💔

Boy, cramps suck.

Notes: MHA X Reader. Maybe short and not too much characters because of my own pain never mind, Fem!Reader, ngl I had fun making it tho. Reader is referred to 'you'. I guess it could be PG if you don't know about female anatomy.

Remember that this is all my opinion! You can feel free to think how you like!

INCLUDES: Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, Kirishima, Kaminari

Izuku

Okay, first things first, Izuku did know about menstruation cycles. He just never delt with someone having it first hand.

Sure he knew about the blo0d, the mood swings, the cramps, what you need, all that stuff.

May or may not have a notebook filled with all your period needs. Maybe like your favorite chocolate and favorite pad brands, when it'll come, etc.

If you get your period and your out of pads and ask him to get some, make sure you specify exactly what you want. Or else he'll have two packs of every kind of pad in sight at he store.

Extremely careful about what he says to you. He has heard about mood swings before and doesn't want to deal with it.

Try not to get emotional and cry because he'll 1000% join you. He won't even know what your crying about.

Cuddles cuddles cuddles

I feel like he does more psychical affection, so get ready for lots of hugs.

If you get clingy it's fine by him...

...Unless your dragging him down. That might be a problem.

Katsuki

Yes, he knows what a period is. But just like Deku, I don't think he's ever delt with it first hand.

You're probably thinking I'll say 'He will be careful about what he says to you', well your WRONG. You better watch your tongue with him, mood swings or not.

Its almost scary how he always knows your going to get it as soon as it comes.

If you want something, get it yourself... Unless you start crying. He's considering running out to the store to by every. single. thing. you want.

If something happens where you don't have pads and you ask him to get some, he literally got every kind in sight. He doesn't care if you said you don't need it all or not.

Good thing the money was from your account 😃😃😃

Just kidding!

Crying? Get ready for OOC Bakugo affection. Maybe he'll offer to go to his dorm and turn on your favorite movie.

Unless it's a drama.

He swears on his mother he'll never turn on a drama movie during your period. Because he's already made that mistake.

But if you are clingy,

"GET THE **** OFF OF ME!!!"

In a nutshell I just explained the definition of chaos.

And maybe, just maybe he'll let you pull on his sleeve and follow him around like a lost puppy.

Shoto

"You're on your what?"

Doesn't even know what a period is. Try to explain it to him.

Also keep tabs on your moodswings while your explaining, he will 100% think something bad happened when he wasn't looking...

Or you're upset because of your tummy.

Maybe both *shrugs*

Explained to him or not, he's still confused why your so emotional, the anger kind or/and the sad kind.

After he gets the hang of it, he'll start writing down when it comes and has a ton of pads just... Stored away... Somewhere...

Buying everything and anything you ask for.

I mean, he can even get you that new 2026 phone you've been wanting (Endeavor's credit card will be getting a beating-)

Tell him which kind of pads you like/need PLEASE. He would just stand there in the aisle eyeing all the brands like one of them will jump off the shelf and be the one you want.

If you are crying, even if it's over nothing, he starts questioning and interrogating you. To figure out who and what bothered you.

Clingy? No problem . It doesn't really bother him if you pull on him or not. But if you start getting aggressive, he draws the line.

Ejiro

I honestly don't know who's better. Kirishima or Deku.

Yes he knows but it was like a myth in the back of his head since he never delt with someone who had it before.

And of course, a man is supposed to know when his girl is going through menstruation.

Wake up and it's the day your supposed to get it? Hey what're those chocolates doing on your counter...? (Spoiler alert! It was him! *Continues to Disney point towards Kirishima*)

Deals with moodswings like a Chad. Don't ask me how or where he learned to do it.

Need pads? Don't have any? You don't even need to step outside. Actually, neither does he. He always prepared for your period so his bathroom has a hidden stash of your favorite pads just waiting for you.

Very good with calming you down, angry or sad. Like I said, Chad of moodswings.

Also loves psychical affection. Definitely more than Deku.

And enjoys it if you are clingy to him. He doesn't mind and hey, he thinks it's kinda cute.

Denki

Another one who doesn't know what a period is.

Actually gets freaked out when you tell him what happens.

Five minutes of avoidance and he's back to his clingy self.

But he tries but never remembers when you're suppose get your period. He always says he knows even if he doesn't tho.

Absolutely just spoils you. Would buy to world for you if you asked. (We just gotta make sure he has the money...)

You cry or get angry at him? He thinks you hate him. No like, seriously. He doesn't even know (or remember if you told him) what moodswings are.

He doesn't even know what pads are. But after you explain, he's like "So that's what those things were!" (When you pass by the health products section and always see pads but never know what they are)

Actually just terrible at dealing with moodswings. Like, below zero.

He enjoys it if your clingy. He likes feeling like the center of attention from a girl-

[crushedsweets]

Which songs would you pick as theme music for each of the Creeps?

i'm picking songs from MY daily playlist, which is mostly indie love songs - so these arent entirely accurate, but i think it forces a unique perspective (and im far too lazy to perfectly curate a song per character)

TIM is fast car by tracy chapman; "maybe together we can get somewhere; any place is better; you and i can both get jobs; and finally see what it means to be living"

BRIAN is 4runner by brenn; "i see you're still doing the same old; hanging out with people like me; you know i'm trying to get a little bolder; so, this town is where i'd rather you be"

TOBY is king for a day by piece the veil; "won't you push me for the last time; you want a martyr? i'll be one; now i dont want to feel a thing anymore; im tired of begging for the things that i want; im over sleeping like a dog on the floor; imagine living like a king someday"

KATE is hammer by hana vu; "are we gonna make it? cause i have to; i don't wanna be here but i do; and i run away cause i ruined mine; and i fall asleep cause i get so tired; and its hard to say what the trouble is; ill run away til its all behind"

NINA is cologne by beabadoobee; "at least leave the scent of your cologne; i'm not done yet; please, kiss my neck; lets go for another round; i hate what this song is about; am i attractive? tell me, am i good enough? lately i've been on an off; i think ive hurt too much; think i'm gong to explode"

CLOCKY is tell me its okay/im not angry anymore by paramore; "maybe its been years since i genuinely smiled; and maybe its been years since i wanted to be apart of anything, but lately i've been good, you know, i've actually been great; man, i even laughed a little today, oh so strange"

JACK is the dead coming talking by roe kapara; "feel the worms eating holes through my mind; light regrets that'll kill me in time; walking backwards is always a guess; distance faces burn holes in my chest"

LAZARI is my mother wants me dead by carolesdaughter; "nobody can say they know me; i know my mother wants me dead; i cant trust you, i know you bleed blue"

BEN is hot rod by dayglow; "my memory is not like the other one; maybe i'm not all that you thought; we don't move like we used to do; maybe you're not such a hot rod"

SALLY is oysters in my pocket by royel otis; "oysters in the pocket; not that we are selfish; we just haven't learnt much; send me on my bicycle; the chain is all rust"

JANE is lucerene by richy mitch & the coal miners; "i fervently want some time alone; no wine, no elixir, no spirits can make me whole; i say it with pain; i don't know if im in the right yet; still some burnt blood remains"

JEFF is scrawny by wallows; "still wear the same shoes i did back then; i dont think theyve ever been untied; dont care to watch the story unfold; hate feeling like im not in control; now tell me im a scrawny mother fucker with a cool hairstyle"

LIU is didya think by arlie; "never thought you'd be the kinda guy to get a day job; never thought you'd be the kinda guy to take a safe route; so why ya sittin around? did ya think it'd be easy?"

DINA is my bodys made of crushed little stars by mitski; "im not doing anything; my bodys made of crushed little stars; would you kill me, jerusalem? i should tell them im not afraid to die"

ANN is baby you're a haunted house by gerard way; "better find another superstition; your heart will stay forever; when your last remains are few; ill be the ghost inside your head when we are through; sometimes you scare me; and i'll find a way to scare you too"

LULU is stella brown by jelani aryeh; "i don't know what to talk about; how has my head just hollowed out? spend my time awaiting, lying; patient inside this racing mind; i'm too precautious and i often doubt"

[rei-ismyname]

Magneto arrives to save Iron Man

He's back and he's even hotter!

I LOVE his shit eating grin, rippling cape and muscles, and most of all his cunty posture. 'Hello Stark, check out these thighs.' It's true that his wife (Emma Frost, it's a sham thing but Tony catches feelings) sent Mags to rescue his dumb ass as he makes a huge mess in the Australian Outback, but this is a newly resurrected, kinder Magneto. I suspect he'd have done it anyway. For drama, if nothing else.

Tony only knew that one singular mutant was coming to bail him out. He didn't expect his 'nemesis' (citation needed) mainly because Tony was there when Magneto died on Arakko during Judgement Day. He's surprised, but not unhappy about it. Maybe. See, Mr Stark just had his shit kicked in, and he had hallucinations of the Master of Magnetism while knocked out.

T-Bag is feeling guilty about the whole Stark Sentinel situation (as he should. Not the first time Stark Sentinels have been made for genocide.) That guilt manifests with the face of Magneto, here to judge him. In a petulant reply to this most recent charge, Stark brings up some old shit ( X-Men #1 from 1963) but Mags has a zinger for him. Considering Stark's subconscious is doing all the talking, some part of him thinks he's just as bad as Silver Age Magneto. It's not a competition, but I think he's worse. Mr Military Industrial Complex Billionaire over here can fuck right off.

'The world doesn't need arms merchants' is both true and relevant. Tony has changed, he's been redeemed! Yet engines of death bearing his name are stalking the planet yet again and plan to purge it, having already carried out mutant genocide. Tony will never see any legal or social consequences for this, but perhaps he believes he deserves this judgement. I don't really care about Tony Stark, to be honest. I'm here for Magneto, and this is the war in Tony's subconscious when Max Eisenhardt arrives.

Mags isn't here to point fingers - he's here to save an ally. Red Elon Musk Feilong has a grudge over Arakko, and his fucking face when Mags doesn't know who he is delights me. I don't think Mags is being truthful - he SHOULD know who this ORCHIS clown is, but they've never met. He's been through a lot lately. Besides, they've got bigger fish to fry. Feilong has realised that the AI leopards are eating his face too, so they're on the same side for now and are stuck in a giant Iron Man suit without power.

Luckily, 'I am power.' Mags revitalises the monstrosity and rides to war with two billionaires. After he fucks up a ton of sentinels (a continuity error but whatever,) Nimrod sends one of his bodies (Madrox should sue) to stop them.

Mags is much more effective than the his last Nimrod fight, though he doesn't remember it. Nimrod is weak to Mysterium somehow so he makes the very problematic move of gassing Mags with Terrigen. WTF did he get that from? It's good to know Tony could have easily prevented IvX at any time. I'm sympathetic to everyone who had to deal with the rushed production schedule Fall of X received, but this is Looney Tunes shit.

Nimrod, you chump. You set yourself up for the 'awful lot of metal around here' Magneto classic. Speaking of metal, Mysterium just keeps getting better. SWORD did steal it from the Phoenix's clothes line, so whatever, it can do new stuff if it wants. It's alive, it loves Magneto, it hates Nimrod, and could take or leave Tony Stark. That's relatable. ORRRR, Jean is in the White Hot Room right now, after Moira stabbed her with a blightswill knife. She could be affecting the metal to get this Nimrod jerkoff. Sounds kinda silly - moving on.

Looney Tunes or not, I'm a sucker for Magneto hovering and saying dramatic shit. Preferably hurling vehicles around, but magic metal and a dickhead robot is close enough. Let it be known that Mags is the Mysterium Whisperer. Pretty obvious when you think about it, though his relationship with the miracle metal wasn't explored deeply.

Yes! Haha. Get Magneto'd, idiot! This Nimrod body is dead, as is the Mysterium and Tony's giant robot. Damn, they would have been useful. Anyway, bye losers! Mags has more fascist robots to kill in his wonderful cape. Thanks for fucking everything up only to help at the last minute. Enjoy the Outback (they don't, and Tony leaves a huge mess.)

[illubean]

sorry but I can't stop thinking about Toji with a retired alt baddie as his wife

Like imagine you met at some rowdy concert somewhere or something and he's drawn in by your bold makeup and elaborate outfit

then BOOM years later you guys are married and your teen children found an old digital camera filled with pics from before they were even born up to when they were still too young to remember

Theres one specific picture in there of you and Toji at some house party; the flash is on while you're smiling, red solo cup in hand and Toji's black kiss mark stained face is resting on your shoulder GAHHH

Megumi almost can't believe the pictures he's looking at are of you while Tsumiki is brewing up a genius idea.

Your anniversary was coming up, and what better gift to get you guys than a photo album of pictures you forgot you had, decorated by your own two children?

Megumi didn't care too much for the idea of decorating a photo album, but deciding it would be rude not to get you a gift, he joined Tsumiki in her efforts of putting something together.

The two teens even get Shiu on board, demanding he helps them get to the nearest photo print shop and even burn a cd with all of your's and Toji's favorite songs on them (Megumi was tasked with asking the two of you for that info as discreetly as possible)

And when the day finally comes, your daughter sits the two of you on the couch and presents you with the photo album. You were confused at first, taking the book from her while Toji looked over your shoulder. And once you opened it, you screamed.

"Oh my god, where did you get these!?" you ask, flipping through the pages filled with memories from when you were maybe 20 something.

"We found an old camera in the storage!"

"Look, Toj! It's when we got matching eyebrow piercings!"

Toji chuckled with an arm wrapped around your torso, reminiscing alongside you. His eyes softened once you got further into the album, pictures from when Tsumiki was first born now making an appearance. Motherhood looked real good on you; it still does; but Toji would never forget the joy of seeing you hold your baby girl for the first time. And he got to experience it all over again two years later when his darling boy would be born.

By the time you were finished going through the album, you were sniffling, holding back tears of joy.

"Wahhh, I love it so much! I love YOU GUYS so much!!"

"Nooo, mommy don't cry!" Tsumiki whines, going in for a hug and starting to feel emotional herself.

Toji watched the scene unfold with a small smile on his face, only diverting his attention feeling a tap on his shoulder. Turning to his left, he looked at Megumi who was holding the burned cd out in front of him.

"We made you this too."

Taking the cd from his son's hands, he looks at the case. The image on the front was a picture of the two of you at a backyard grunge set, and he flipped it over to see a list of songs that he remembers being asked about a few days prior.

"Now what the hell do you know about burning cds?" he quips, ruffling the boy's already messy hair as he scowls.

"We had some help."

"C'MERE YOU GUYS!" you demand, yanking Megumi in by his shirt before slinging an arm around your husband, all while still holding your daughter with the other.

Safe to say, you loved your family. And you wouldn't trade them for the world <3

[coolemmasulivan2]

Request for Ruben Dias childhood friends running into each other in the future

More Than a Friend

Pairing: Ruben Dias x Reader

Summary: You and Ruben, drift apart, and years later, you reunite in London.

Word count: 1269

Author's note: I'm not the greatest with requests, but I hope you like it.

I got my driver's license last week Just like we always talked about 'Cause you were so excited for me To finally drive up to your house But today I drove through the suburbs Cryin' 'cause you weren't around

5 Year old

You and Ruben had known each other since kindergarten. He was the tall, skinny boy who always had a football at his feet, while you were the short, distracted girl who somehow managed to run into walls and sometimes into thin air.

Your friendship had an unusual, and slightly painful, beginning.

One afternoon, he was playing football with a few other boys, as you walked past the field with your nose buried in a book. It all happend very fast. You heard someone shout and before you could react, a football smacked you right in the face, knocking the book from your hands and sending you stumbling backward.

Ruben was the only one that approached you. Well, technically it was his fault.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

You looked up, only to find a pair of concerned eyes staring back at you. Everything else seemed to blur for a second. He was… cute.

"I'm fine." You mumbled, dusting off your hands as you stood.

Ruben picked up the ball and gave you a smile. "I'm Ruben."

You frowned slightly. Why was he introducing himself? It was just an accident.

"I'm Y/N." You replied, still skeptical.

"Do you want to play?" He asked, as if nothing had happened.

"I don't play football."

"Try." You hesitated, but something about his easy confidence made you nod.

To your surprise, Ruben and his friends weren't mean when you missed the ball. Again and again. They laughed, but not in a way that made you feel small. Instead, they encouraged you and cheered you on. And just like that, an unexpected friendship was born.

From that day forward, you and Ruben were inseparable.

9 year old

One summer afternoon, you and Ruben sat on the grass in your usual spot at the park, the football lying forgotten between you. The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange glow over everything.

"I think you're getting better at football." Ruben said, nudging your knee with his.

You scoffed. "I think you're lying."

He laughed. "Maybe a little."

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. Being with him always made you feel lighter, like nothing else in the world mattered.

A comfortable silence settled between you as you looked at the sky. Then, out of nowhere, Ruben blurted: "Have you ever kissed anyone?"

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "What?"

He shrugged. "I heard someone talking about it today. Just wondering."

"No. Have you?"

"No!" He hesitated, then glanced at you. "Do you… want to try?"

Your froze for a seconf. "Try what?"

"A kiss!"

Your face grew warm, but you weren't sure why. It was just Ruben, your best friend.

But suddenly, he didn't feel just like a friend.

"Okay." You said quietly.

He swallowed, then leaned in slightly, hesitating. You met him halfway, and for the briefest second, your lips touched. Warm and a little awkward.

When you pulled back, you both stared at each other.

"That was… weird." You admitted, trying to suppress a nervous giggle.

"Yeah." He agreed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded, heart racing. Neither of you spoke about it after that, but something between you had changed, but you were too young to understand.

16 year old

"You don't get it, Ruben!" You snapped, voice tight with frustration. "I’m not asking you to choose between me and football. I would never."

Ruben let out a sharp breath, his hands on his hips, his face still glistening with sweat from the match. "You know how much this means to me."

"I do." You said, your voice quieter now. "And I'm so proud of you. But you barely even see me anymore. And when you do, it's like I don't matter."

His brows furrowed. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" You forced a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "When was the last time we actually talked? When was the last time I told you something important and you actually listened?"

He exhaled harshly, rubbing a hand down his face. "I'm trying, Y/N. But my life is moving so fast right now. Training, matches, media. Do you think it's easy for me?"

"And do you think it's easy for me?" You shot back. "I knew things would change. I just didn't think you'd forget about me in the process."

His eyes darkened. "I didn't forget about you."

"Then why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting to keep this friendship alive?" Silence. His jaw tightened and looked away. "You don't have to say anything." You murmured, stepping back. "I get it. This is your dream, and I'd never ask you to give it up. I just wish I didn't feel like I lost you along the way."

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Without another word, you turned and walked away.

27 year old

The city buzzed with life around you. London was everything you had hoped it would be: exciting, vibrant and a perfect getaway with friends.

But nothing could have prepared you for this.

You had just stepped out of a café, laughing at something your friend had said, when you crashed into someone walking in the opposite direction.

"Sorry!" You said, but your breath caught in your throat as you looked up.

Ruben Dias.

The boy who had been your best friend, standing in front of you, looking just as surprised as you felt. For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was like the city around you faded.

His eyes scanned your face, as if making sure it was really you. "Y/N?"

You swallowed hard. "Ruben!" You took him in. He had always been handsome, but now he looked different. More grown, more settled. And yet, somehow, still him.

He gave a small, surprised laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wow. It's been… a while."

"Yeah. A while." You said, nodding like an idiot.

A beat of silence. You shifted on your feet and he looked at the ground. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Vacation with friends." You said, nodding toward the group standing a few feet away, who were definitely watching.

You had imagined running into him so many times over the years. But in your head, it had gone way smoother than this.

"So…" He started, shifting his weight. "You-- uh.. you look good."

"Oh. Thanks." You winced immediately. "So do you. But I guess that comes with the job."

His smile widened slightly. "Maybe." A beat of silence. "It's really good to see you, Y/N."

You hesitated, but the warmth in his voice made something in your chest ache. "You too." You weren't sure what to say. What could you say after all this time?

But then, rubbing the back of his neck again, Ruben asked: "Do you… maybe want to catch up?"

You hesitated, glancing at your friends. They were pretending not to eavesdrop.

And then, before you could overthink it, you heard yourself say: "Yeah. I'd like that."

34 year old

Your daughter, Maria, looked up at you both, her curiosity shining through. "I still don't get it." She said. "You two were best friends first, right? But then… you fell in love?"

You exchanged a glance with Ruben. The smile on his face mirrored yours. "Yeah, we were best friends." You said.

"And it wasn't always easy." Ruben added, his tone soft. "But we figured it out."

Miguel tilted his head, still processing. "And you still like each other now?"

You both laughed. "Yeah!" Ruben said, squeezing your hand. "We do. More than ever."

[thezombieprostitute]

Would you ever revisit the shy reader and give her a happy ending without Ransom? Maybe she meets Jake? Or Steve? Or Curtis? Or Cole? Really anyone who would be genuine. She deserves to feel safe and loved.

You know, she really does deserve those things.

Summary: Another meeting but with a better outcome. (Follow up to Ransom Drysdale x Shy!Reader)

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Anxiety, Shyness, Stalker behavior (not from Chris!). Please let me know if I missed anything.

"Chris, look at me," Mace grumbles. "I don't care what you say to her, I don't care if it's just asking about a book, just talk to her! Let her know you actually exist, okay?"

"Right," Chris nods a little too much in his nervousness. "I can do that. I can...ask where the astronomy section is or something, right?"

Mace fights the urge to tell him she'll likely think he's an idiot since the astronomy section is clearly marked. Instead he closes his eyes and counts to ten.

Thankfully Sam comes to his rescue. "I mean, maybe go for biology or something? Might ease the conversation into how you're a doctor?"

"Keep it simple," Joaquin interjects. "We know how Chris can get, especially around the cute girls."

Chris's cheeks turn pink. Yale Medical School? Air Force? Nothing compares to getting himself ready to talk to you. He's grateful to his air force buddies for helping him out.

"Right, simple," he reiterates. "I'll just...um...maybe I can ask for a gift recommendation?"

"Ooo! Good idea!" Sam nods.

"Might encourage a conversation," Mace agrees.

"And that's all you're looking for right now," Joaquin assures.

"Yeah, okay. I can do this," Chris tells himself.

It's been several months now since you finally broke things off with Ransom. In some ways you miss him. Life with him was a lot less lonely. But everything else was so uncomfortable. Everything else made you feel worse about yourself than usual. It's for the best that he's not around anymore. You'd tried sending the gifts back to him, but they all got returned making you feel guilty. Not wanting them around anymore, you gave them to friends or dropped them off at second hand stores. Anything to get them out of your apartment and stop reminding you.

You shake your head to stop thinking about him. You're at work, just focus on that. These books won't shelve themselves.

There's a gentle cough behind you, followed by a soft, "excuse me?"

You turn around, customer service smile on, "how can I help you?" While you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, you can tell he's very handsome. He seems almost as nervous as you. Maybe he's the type that hates to admit needing help?

"Um...I was...I just...um..." he stutters, also not looking you in the eye. He starts rubbing the back of his head, his cheeks turning pink. "I need a gift for a friend. Could um...could use some help?"

"Of course, sir," you say with as much reassurance as you can muster. You're wondering if you look the same when you're feeling shy. Well, you can't look as adorable as him, but you're sure you've got similar mannerisms. "Um, can you tell me some of their interests?"

"Right, yeah, that...that would probably help. Um...aeronautics?"

It takes a moment for the dictionary in your brain to connect the term to the appropriate section of the bookstore. "If you'll follow me, I can show you where we keep our books about flight. Would they prefer something about the history of it? Maybe the engineering itself? Or rockets?"

"You...you know a lot about this stuff!"

"Oh, um. Not really." Your face drops slightly as your cheeks start burning. "I just know the subject headings, related topics kinds of stuff. I'd never have the brain for the actual taxonomy."

"I um...I'm...I mean, not to toot my own horn but--" he stops himself and you can hear him quietly muttering "toot my own horn? Who the hell says that?"

"So here's where you'll find our books on aeronautics," you interrupt his self berating. "Those shelves are more history focused, those ones are more space focused. If you need further help, please let me know."

"Thank you," he smiles as he fidgets.

It took a lot more visits to the store than Chris would have liked but he did, eventually, get the courage to ask you out. You surprised yourself when you said "yes" with almost no hesitation. In all of your "conversations" he'd been so polite and understanding. He put you at ease, made you laugh, and respected your boundaries. If you told him you were on your break, or helping someone else, he backed off and he never made you feel bad about it. And he never tried meeting you outside of the safety of your work space. Plus, he was really cute, soft-spoken and encouraging.

You're still nervous that things could go south. That he'll turn out to be another Ransom. That he'll make fun of how shy you can be. But for once, you're hopeful.

O'Malley gave Ransom the file on Dr. Chris Beck. "Let's face it, you can't compete with this guy."

Ransom's cheeks turned red as his jaw tensed. "Why not?"

O'Malley scoffs. "The guy's got med school cred, Air Force connections, and even friggin' space programs. The only thing you've got that he doesn't is money."

"Air Force reserves," Ransom counters as he reads the file.

"Still more than you ever did."

Ransom grabs his phone and types a few things. "Your payment, as promised. Now get the hell out."

O'Malley confirmed receipt of the money and headed out.

Ransom looked over Beck's file and his heart falls. He really can't compete with doctor. Ransom pours himself another drink. He hasn't been happy since your breakup, waiting for his opportunity to prove himself. But with this guy in the picture?

He looks at the photo of you he keeps on his phone and raises his glass in a toast. "At least you finally found someone worthy of you."

Previous

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Catch Me — Xu Minghao

✧ Let's bring out the beast, shall we? ✧

Plot: Picture this… you join an exclusive sex club and meet a mysterious man who helps you embrace your darker tastes.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x mystery man!Xu Minghao 🎥 Genre: dark romance; suggestive [+18], light angst 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, primal kink (I explain it a bit but feel free to look it up if you’re unsure), light knife play (no blood) 🎥 Notes: alright, so this is a little different from my usual writing but I recently read the Legacy of Gods series by Rina Kent and let me tell you I AM OBSSESSED!! so ofc I had to incorporate it into a fic hehe. hope you will like it 🤭 🎥 Shout out: thanks again to bestie @nothoughtsjustfic for reading over this as always 💜

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

Crazy. 

That was the only word you could think of to describe the situation you’d gotten yourself into on this dark and gloomy Friday evening. 

If anyone were to see you right now, running frantically through the forest in the middle of nowhere, they’d think you were in immediate danger.

But that was just the thing. Your life wasn’t in jeopardy… not really. In fact, you had very much agreed to partake in this sick and twisted game. 

It all started with Rose Haven, an exclusive sex club you’d signed up for in an attempt to find something that was more your taste, so to say. 

Although you were by no means a virgin, you’d never really found sex enjoyable, unlike your friends, who swore it was the best thing on earth. Of the few guys you’d been with, none had managed to make you cum, nor had they bothered with anything more than missionary or doggy to get themselves off before taking their leave. 

You’d then turned to porn, hoping that it would be better without a useless, self-centered guy getting in between you and your orgasm. But that didn’t do it for you either. It was all so anticlimactic and fake, you felt like you needed something more, even though you weren’t sure what that something was supposed to be. 

It had gotten to the point where you were starting to believe that maybe you were the problem — abnormal, defect, whatever you wanted to call it. 

But then you’d come across Rose Haven, and you learned about a whole list of sex kinks you didn’t even know existed. That’s how you eventually discovered the world of primal play, aka a type of predator–prey dynamic in which both parties let their primal instincts come out during sex. 

You‘d been intrigued from the start, wondering how something so raw and animalistic could be considered elating and pleasurable. However, the more you read through the club’s primal play forum, the more you began to realize that perhaps this was exactly what you needed. Maybe giving into your instincts for once would finally give you what you were looking for. 

And what better way than to do it with a random stranger, someone who didn’t know you at all, someone who wouldn’t judge you for indulging in something like that, someone who — just like you — was trying out new kinks because regular, boring vanilla sex was not cutting it for them either? 

Yes, you knew it sounded totally crazy and you were pretty sure that none of your friends would understand, but you still signed up that same evening, filling out all the required information and your preferences and submitting the form before you had a chance to back out. 

And now here you were, being chased through a dark forest by a hot guy whom you’d been matched with less than a week after sending in your application. 

You didn’t even know his name. All you knew about the guy was that he’d engaged in primal play before, and his member ID, which was mentioned in the attendance invitation you’d received earlier this evening — it also stated the safeword and the off-site location you were currently at. 

When you arrived at the eerie-looking cabin, you’d been alone. And when he still hadn’t shown up ten minutes after the original meetup time, you started to second-guess your choice to come.

But then he was suddenly there, scaring the living daylights out of you when you felt his warm breath hit the back of your neck. It was only when you turned around and he showed you the card displaying a member ID that matched the one you received, you felt yourself start to relax. 

Next thing you knew he told you to run as his lips curled into a devilish smirk, one that was enough to get you moving.  

Where, you didn’t know. You could barely see anything in the dark, the trees all looking similar and your vision slightly blurring the longer you ran. So you stopped behind a big tree for a moment to catch your breath, keeping your ears open for any sign of the guy. 

A twig snapping on your right caught your attention and your heartbeat sped up instantly as you waited, your body shaking with adrenaline. 

“Oh, thank god.” You breathed a sigh of relief when you realized it was just an innocent bunny. You slowly pushed yourself away from the tree and turned around before taking a step, only to freeze when a piece of metal was suddenly pressed against your throat. 

“Gotcha, little rabbit. You really have to work on your technique,” he mumbled against your ear.

You swallowed nervously, too afraid to move but at the same time curious to see what would happen if you did. 

“Don’t even think about moving. I won’t be so nice next time.” His voice was harsh this time, sending tingles down your spine and to your pussy as he increased the pressure on your throat. 

Fuck, how was he having this effect on you already? You don’t think you’d ever gotten that wet this fast. But here this stranger was, doing just that while manhandling you like a freaking psycho. 

Within the blink of an eye, he removed the knife and forcefully pushed your back against the large tree, leaving you with nowhere to go as he trapped you with his larger form.

Then the knife was back on your skin, right below your throat, sliding down slowly and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

A loud ripping sound echoed through the empty woods, and you watched with big eyes as your dress fell to the ground in tatters.

A terrifying smile overtook the man's features as his hungry gaze moved over your trembling form.

“Now, little rabbit, where do we start?” 

**BONUS CONTENT**

Dear Ms. L/N,

Due to unforeseen circumstances that we cannot disclose, member 234448 is unfortunately unable to attend today's appointment that was supposed to take place at 10pm.

If you wish to reschedule the appointment, please fill out the attached form as soon as possible and we will do our best to arrange something.

Thank you for your understanding and as always, stay safe.

🌹 Rose Haven  

Your breath caught in your throat as you read over the club message you'd received over two hours ago.

“Something wrong, little rabbit?”

Your gaze shot up instantly, locking with mystery man's dark orbs as you tried to keep your cool.

If your supposed ‘date’ had canceled on you, then who the hell was the man that had just ravaged you in the best possible way in the forest?

To be continued…

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[soineffablygay]

(F1 RPF race roll for P19 and P2 in China -> Lewis Hamilton & Lando Norris; in reference to the china cooldown room incident; crossposted on ao3)

Cooldown

The worst thing is, Lewis knows exactly what Nico would say to Lando after his "Throwing the cap"-cooldown-room scene. He'd stare at him with his piercing eyes and give a matter-of-fact "That's not very nice" like he's chastising a child for not saying "Thank You".

But Lewis is not Nico and he was never curt like that, was never outright demanding kindness for himself like that. And besides that, he isn't actually offended by what Lando and Oscar had said, not like Nico would be. He still can't help that little voice inside his head that immediately goes to tell him that Lando and Oscar are nothing like him and Nico and that they know fuck all about what it was like. And that Lando has no right to joke about it.

So when Lewis is standing next to Lando as they're waiting to be allowed to get into their cars parked next to each other in the front row in Japan, he feels a little unnerved, but it's not like he's gonna say anything.

Lando being Lando, though, of course couldn't just let it be. "Sorry if you've seen the cooldown room thing from China, mate. I know it's a sensitive topic," is what he says and he says it in a way that let's Lewis know that he's not actually apologising but instead trying to rile him up minutes before the start of the race.

Of course, Lewis has been around the block a few times, a few times more than Lando, so he's not gonna take whatever Lando is throwing him here. "Sure, mate," he says and looks straight ahead, clasps his hands.

Lewis can see Lando smile innocently out of the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, I mean, we're just always saying we don't wanna end up like Brocedes, you know."

Later, Lewis will be a bit annoyed at how easy it ended up being for Lando to get him there, but this was enough already to make him snap.

He turns around to look at Lando for the first time. "Mate, you could never be like us. You can't even begin to understand how much history and, by the way, talent, you're missing for that. You're just two inexperienced guys stuck together in a winning car for PR purposes," Lewis spits out. "Come next year you won't even have the problem of fighting for 1-2.

Lando simply hums like he's considering it and then smirks at him. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I'm just that much better at getting fucked by my team mate and still being genuinely happy for him when he outperforms me. Because we genuinely like each other." There's a beat where Lando assesses Lewis again, then he adds, "You should try that some time."

Lewis is genuinely too stunned to speak, and his heart is pounding and he's still trying to really understand what Lando had just said to him, when the stewards finally give the OK to get in the cars.

Lando starts to walk off, but can't stop himself from turning around again. He shoots Lewis a "Good luck, mate" with a wink and a winning smile.

Oh, Good luck indeed.

(When Oscar overtakes Lewis from P3 in turn 1 and Lewis watches the two McLarens drive off, he thinks, stupidly, that maybe he should call Nico.)