#i may update this if i remember any things i forgot

[4kills23deaths]

My Personal Milena Lore

Okay, so we know pretty much ZILCH about Milena in canon. Some things can be inferred (like there clearly being SOME KIND of positive relationship between her and Makarov) and we do know some things in a vague fashion (her husband was murdered), but we know very little that's CONCRETE.

So, under the read-more, please enjoy my ramblings about my special interest favourite character. None of this is canon, remember! Just conjecture.

Okay, so the first thing I have to mention is really to do with Makarov, and that's the fact that there is NO WAY that man was 43 in MWIII. No. Julian does not look a whole year older than my mother, and therefore neither does Vladimir.

So it's my belief that Makarov was born Vladimir Dmitriyevich Makarov on October 4th, 1989. Almost a month before, Milena was born Milena Viktorovna Volkova on September 10th, 1989. This makes both of them 34 at the time wherein MWIII takes place.

She was born to very rich parents - Diana Yuriyevna Volkova and Viktor Mikhailevich Volkov - and grew up in Moscow, just like Makarov.

Upon finishing school with very good grades, Milena decided to attend university. This is where she met one Boris Aleksievich Romanov through mutual friends at a party. The man was rich, with a lot of connections, and the two soon began to date.

Within two years - on October 12th, 2009 - Milena and Boris married and Milena became Milena Viktorovna Romanova. Milena was 20 years old at this time.

Four years later, on Februrary 28th, 2013, Makarov and Milena meet when she comes along with Boris to a meeting.

Boris proves to be decent-ish at first, but becomes a very neglectful husband after Milena turns 25, causing Milena to quickly become incredibly bitter. He spends a lot of his time away from home, leaving his wife to attend to his actual business - which she quickly acclimates to and becomes much better than him at. Whilst her husband is gambling and cheating (which Milena can verify as he uses the same funds he's supposed to give to Makarov and his cause), Milena begins forming a plan to get rid of her shitty, boring husband. In the years between Milena and Makarov's first introduction and when she begins to plan, the two had become good friends. This is where Milena realises that having her husband killed rather than divorcing him will have many benefits - and not just for her.

During one of Boris's 'business trips' (read: gambling sprees), Milena meets with Makarov and exposes all of Boris's recent embezzlement. This both discredits her husband and makes Milena look damn good. Irreplacable, even. Makarov agrees to help her kill Boris, on the condition that Milena formally replaces her husband as a financier to the ultranationalists. Let it never be said that this woman doesn't know how to twist things in her favour.

On June 10th, 2017, during a supposed 'business dinner' between Milena, Boris, and Makarov on Plutus Island, Boris is murdered. Makarov deals with the legal side of things. Work with me here, I don't know how it'd work but it just would.

Milena decides to keep her current name, feeling that she's outgrown the name Milena Volkova at this point. She keeps her wedding ring (which can be seen in the Oligarch mission) as a 'fuck you' to the man who wasted eight years of her life.

Milena is thriving at this point. The personal and business relationship between her and Makarov grows ever more positive.

On April 6th, 2019, Vladimir Makarov is arrested during his terrorist attack on Verdansk. He's sent to Zordaya - this is canon.

During this time, Milena is able to, in Makarov's words 'build an army' - this is, of course, the PMC Konni Group. She works with Ivan Alexxeve and Andrei Nolan for the most part.

She brokers a deal between Las Almas Cartel and Konni Group to get hold of chemical weapons, as seen in (I believe) MWII. This is one of many things that I, sleep-deprived as I am, cannot remember the extent of, but I know are canon.

On November 10th, 2023, Vladimir Makarov is busted out of prison and returns to lead Konni Group.

On the evening of November 12th, 2023, Milena Romanova's island is raided by Task Force 141 in order to gain information on both Makarov's/Konni Group's finances and Makarov's whereabouts. With her security shot dead and her house shot up, Milena gives up Makarov's location.

(Side note: say what you will, but I think this was entirely reasonable of her. Milena's biggest motivation is her money, and she was scared as shit of losing it. But that's not all. As a fellow woman, I cannot begin to imagine the visceral terror I would feel if I were in her situation - alone on an island with nobody to immediately call for help, with two absolutely massive army men who don't exactly wish her well. We, the players, know that Ghost and Soap are protagonists and morally decent enough, but Milena does not. Anything could've happened, and I imagine that scared the shit out of her.)

Now, this is where we reach pure speculation.

We can infer that Makarov and Milena have a positive relationship - in the Praise and Punishment cutscene, Milena is the only one to call him by his given name. Critically, it can be noted that she's the only one in the whole game to be received well by Makarov when she does this. Makarov seems a very tactile man from what we see in this cutscene - most likely as a way to build loyalty - but there is a clear note of mutual respect in this cutscene between the two. She's clearly quite important - she stands pretty much by his side for the remainder of the cutscene.

All of that is to say this: Makarov seems to have dealt with Milena's betrayal in a manner uncommon to him. We see what happens when someone displeases Makarov - he shot Ivan in front of his soldiers to make an example. However, when Makarov speaks to Andrei after torturing one of Shadow Company's men, he mentions that (paraphrasing here) 'if [TF141] can get to Milena, they can get to any of us'.

He's giving her an awful lot of grace. Not cursing her. Not insisting she's hunted down or executed. He's making excuses.

Additionally, the mission after Oligarch (called Highrise) takes place 16 hours after. The cutscene for it takes place some point the night before Highrise begins. This means that Makarov found out about what happened (most likely from Milena herself calling) between 1 and 10 hours after. Remember - Milena was the only one allied with Konni who survived Oligarch. Only she would've known.

I believe that Milena is undoubtably still alive, and if (wishful thinking) we see her in MWIV, she and Makarov may still be allied.

I also believe, very strongly, that there is something between Vladimir Makarov and Milena Romanova. It may be romantic, it may be platonic, but he clearly gives a shit about her in a situation where it'd make a lot more sense for him to write her off as a traitor.

And I find that utterly fascinating.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A week passes in a tense slog. Barrett continues his pandering penance and you wallow in irritation. You want to put it behind you. You want to get past it but every time you do, it just happens again.

If this was the first time, it would be easy but you’ve lost count of all the times you’ve had this fight. 

Your menial office work does little to distract. It only allows you to think about all the bullshit. The way Barrett dismisses everything you do and has to list of everything you don’t. The way he can’t see his own flaws or how you’ve never once rubbed his nose in them like a dog.  

Is it passive or weak or just acceptance? You can’t say. You just always put up with it.  It’s just easier not to make an issue of every little thing. Problem is, now it’s a big thing. 

When you come home, you’re worn out but you still have work to do. Dishes, tidying, cooking. Even your weekends don’t allow you must rest. You need to sort through the bills and go get groceries. All along the way, he’s in the way. You’re not sure he’s trying to help, more so trying to force his way to forgiveness. 

You grab a bundle of reusable shopping bags from the cupboard overflowing with them. It only took about a hundred of the things to start remembering to take them with you.  

As you shut the cupboard, Barrett’s on the other side of the oven. Watching and waiting. He’d be a lot more help if you didn’t have to tell him what to do. You forgot a mug and to him, that’s high crime, but he can’t remember to pay the power bill without six texts on the due date. 

“So... what’s going on today?” He smiles. 

It used to be that that smile made you melt. It would make all your troubles flutter away like butterflies. Now it’s just another irk. 

“Groceries.” You wave the fistful of bags. 

“Oh, cool, want me to come?” 

You nearly scoff. Every weekend you ask and every weekend he’s too busy. His pals want him to jam in their garage band or go fishing down at some dirty river. Another tick on the wrong side of the Pros-Cons list. 

“Sure,” you shrug. It’s easier to just let him come along. You don’t need another argument and you could use the extra hands. 

You shove the bags into the folded shopping cart and put your shoes on. He toddles behind like a lost child. You’re repress a glare as you grab your keys and purse. You’re going to have to talk this out sooner than later our you’re really going to hate him. 

He follows you out to the bus stop and you wait in silence. You had a car but it broke down last year. Ever since, he gets a ride off his coworkers or friends and you flash your bus pass. It’s cheaper than leasing a car, even a used one. 

You don’t know what stresses you out more; thinking about all the stuff he does or just thinking about your life. You get on the bus and sit near the back. He reaches over to grab your hand. You wince but don’t pull away. 

“Nice day,” he says. 

“Mhmm,” you grumble. 

His attempt at small talk doesn’t go much further. You get off at your stop and walk the block to the grocery store. You unfold your shopping cart and pull out your list. Barrett grabs a bag of gummy bears and dumps them in the cart. 

“Those aren’t on the list,” you say. 

“I know but it’ll be a nice treat for later. We’ll have some tonight after dinner.” 

“Oh, alright.” 

You factor in the extra cost and mentally cross off the avocado from the list. You can go without. You roll through the produce section and work your way down the list. Barrett trails behind you. 

You stop in the cereal aisle to grab a bag of oatmeal. As you stand, you flinch and cry out at a surprise peck on your cheek. Barrett puts his arm around your shoulder as he presses his lips against you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“Baby, giving you a kiss.” You look at him and he grins, “I miss you. I love you. I’m tryna be better, honey.” 

“In the grocery store?” You challenge. 

“It’s cute.” 

“Mm, it’s... let’s wait ‘til we get outta here. It’s starting to get busy.” You glance around at the other customers, hoping none of them noticed his little act. “How about you go grab some drumsticks? Flyer says they’re on sale.” 

“Oh, I can do that. Be right back!” He proclaims. 

He shuffles off and you shake your head and turn back to the shelves. The store brand on discount is all out. You hiss in disappointment. You search the rest of the selection. That’s the cheapest on the shelf and you really can’t stretch the extra dollar. 

You look up at the overstock along the top. It’s right up there but you’re just too short to reach. You give a poor attempt then stand flat on your feet. You peer up and down the aisle. You could find an employee. 

“Need some help?”  

You turn to face the stranger and give a start. They aren’t so strange after all. You know him. Well, not know-know him. Everyone in the city knows Steve Rogers, the Captain America. 

“Uhhh...” 

“What’s your brand?” He asks. “They don’t run restock until before closing. I usually come then, less busy but I got... ha, sorry, I’m rambling. What can I grab for you?” 

You lick your dry lips and glance at the shelf. You appreciate the help but telling Captain America that you need the cheapest bag on the shelf isn’t exactly dignified. You point to the price tag on the shelf and he reaches on his toes to grab the edge of the box on the top. He wiggles out a bag and stands flat. 

“Here,” he offers it with a handsome smile. “You know, it’s made at the same factory as the regular brand.” He taps the back of the bag, “exact same address. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re from the same lot.” 

“Oh, well, er... thanks,” you take the oats and put them in your cart. 

“No problem. Sometimes being a hero isn’t very glorious. Sometimes it’s just reaching the top shelf.” 

You force a chuckle. You’re sure the Cap’s life is all sunshine and rainbows. Must be a real ego boost to help the little people. 

“Well, I appreciate it, Captain.” 

“Steve,” he smirks and stares. Your lower your brows and look behind you. Is he looking at someone else? 

“Oh, of course. I should go find my husband.” You roll around him and try to shake off the awkward encounter. You look down at your list as you stop at the end of the aisle. 

“Hope he’s not lost...” Steve calls after you. He says your name and you crane to look at him. You meet his gaze and blanch. He turns and struts off without another word. 

You turn back to your path and slowly leave the aisle. How did he know your name? You replay the interaction and try to recall giving it but you can’t. Well, you’re not exactly thinking straight right now. It’s nothing. You’re just stressed. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Accidental CI

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reader

Summary: When your employer's name comes up in a case, your best friend Deacon calls to ask for your help. He leads you into a dangerous situation, and you come out as more than friends.

Warnings: r works an unspecified corporate job, mentions weapon trafficking and guns, threats, mostly fluff!

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hi, Deac,” you greet as you open the door.

“How was work?” he asks.

“It was fine. My boss forgot to start a software update last night so we didn’t have computer access until after lunch.”

“So, you got paid to sit there and do nothing?”

“Which isn’t that much different than most days,” you tease. “What about you? Any crazy calls?”

You lead Deacon into your kitchen, and his smile widens when he sees dinner waiting on your counter. He pulls you into a quick hug before telling you about his day at work.

“No injuries?” you ask softly.

“No injuries,” he assures. “What about you; any paper cuts that need tending to?”

“Just mental injuries for me. Our financial statements aren’t aligning like they should and if it’s not fixed by the next audit, someone’s getting in trouble.”

“What do you think caused it?”

“Oversight or adding the same bill twice, I’d guess. But I think we should talk about something more exciting than my future IRS investigation.”

“Then let’s talk about that amazing dinner over there and I’ll remind you that Luca wants to have a cooking competition with you.”

Deacon has been your best friend since he moved in next door. You also harbor an ever-growing crush on him. When you saw him climb out of the moving truck the first day, you knew you wanted to be close. He’s got a stressful job, so if you can give him a break and a friend, that’s what you’ll do.

Deacon watches the screen in the situation room as Hondo explains the corporate espionage turned weapon trafficking case. It's a strange move, going from stealing trade secrets to transporting illegal weapons across borders and into areas with strict gun control laws. Metro found a lot of evidence, but when they located the weapons supply in their prime suspect’s corporate office, they called in 20 Squad.

“Wait, go back. Who’s the suspect?” Deacon asks.

His eyes search the monitor as Hondo returns to a page of surveillance photos.

“Elwin Dupree. You know him?” Hondo responds.

“Not personally, but I know someone who works for him.”

“CI?” Chris guesses.

“No. She might be willing to help, though.”

“Call her,” Hondo says.

Hicks adds, “Otherwise, we’re going in blind. Metro has intel but it’s not enough to avoid an ambush.”

Deacon nods and walks out of the room. He presses a contact from his favorites list before raising his phone to his ear.

“Remind me why we work here?” your desk neighbor, whom you lovingly call Nola, says as she sits across from you.

“Because the pay is good… and we’re desperate,” you offer, smiling as you accept your favorite drink.

��May I remind you that Dupree is an idiot who can’t even remember what he asks us to do?”

“Just smile and go with it, Nola, it’s the easiest way to handle it.”

“The man called me into his office yesterday, and then didn’t know why I was there,” she whispers.

“That’s probably a good thing for you. Considering your nickname is based off of your reply of no; lazy.”

“I am lazy! So, I don’t like to do things. He can fire me whenever he wants.”

You roll your eyes and prepare to reply but are interrupted by your cell phone ringing. You apologize to Nola before you answer it.

“Hey, it’s me,” Deacon says on the other end of the line.

“Indeed, it is. What’s going on?” you reply.

“How do you know something is going on?”

“It’s mid-morning on a weekday. And you never call me.”

“I call you all the time!” Deacon argues.

You laugh before you say, “Not when you’re at work.”

“Okay, fine, you’re right. Listen, we’re working on something, and your boss’s name came up.”

“Dupree?” you inquire. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you exactly what we’re looking into, but Hondo and Hicks wanted to know if you’d be willing to help us.”

“Of course. Tell me what to do,” you agree.

“Can you come down here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. You open the calendar on your computer and add, “I can spare an hour and a half, is that enough time?”

“Absolutely. Thank you,” Deacon says.

“Anything for you.”

You hang up and gather your things before standing.

“Where are you off to? Please tell me you’re leaving to go on a date with the hot neighbor you always talk about,” Nola whispers.

“Not today. There was a slight mishap for some of our paperwork. I have to run to another office and get everything sorted out,” you lie. “I’ll have my cell if you need anything.”

“Dodging bullets left and right, aren’t you? Go ahead, I’ll watch your phone and fill in Dupree if he notices you’re gone.”

“Thanks, Nola.”

When you park outside the station, your thoughts begin spiraling. You sit in your seat and wonder if you made the right decision. Will you be in Deacon’s way or be too distracted by him to even help? What if something happens to him while you’re with him? What if he-

A tap on your window draws you from your questions. You turn your head and see Deacon looking at you through the glass. You send him a small smile as he opens your door and bends to look at you. His head tilts to this side, and when he lowers to a squat, his brown eyes distract you as he looks up at you.

“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says gently.

“No, I want to. Just- I was thinking too much, I guess,” you reply.

Deacon nods and stands before offering his hand to help you out of your seat. He closes the door and ensures it’s locked before moving his hand to your back to lead you inside.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hondo,” Hondo says as you enter.

You shake Hondo’s hand and introduce yourself as you follow him further into the station. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins explaining as much as he can about how your boss is involved in the case they’re working.

“We’d like to send you in the get additional details on the office and any other information you can find,” Hondo says. “We’ve got basic floor plans, but we need insider info.”

“She can’t go in alone,” Deacon argues. “We don’t know what he has in that office. If she starts asking questions and he gets suspicious-“

You cut Deacon off by laying a hand on his shoulder and asking, “What if you go in with me? It wouldn’t be that hard for me to lie about who you are; Dupree doesn’t know most of the people who work in the building. Plus, you know what to look for better than I do.”

Hondo looks at Deacon and waits for his reply. You feel Deacon sigh against your hand before agreeing to go into the office with you.

“There’s an employee entrance without metal detectors, but you have to swipe a keycard,” you explain. “They’ll know if you piggyback with me.”

“Our techs can make him a keycard,” Hondo assures. “If you have yours, they can copy parts of it.”

You nod and pass your card to Hondo. He turns and gives it to a passing officer with a few short instructions. Deacon pats your arm as he leaves to change; his uniform isn’t business casual, but he said he'd find something more fitting.

“20 Squad is going to be close by,” Hondo begins. “Deacon can say a word and we’ll be inside, but if you need help and get separated from Deacon, try to get to a window. Signaling for help is easiest with this; just keep it in your pocket or your hand and press the button if you need us.”

You accept the small device and slide it into your pocket. It’s invisible, and you nod as Hondo reassures you everything will be okay.

“I know you can’t tell me what exactly Dupree is doing, but you’re going to catch him, right?” you ask softly.

“Absolutely. Nobody can run from S.W.A.T.”

You scan your keycard and wait for Deacon to do the same before opening the door. The employee entrance is on the side of the building, and you smooth your hands over your hips nervously. When you feel the device Hondo gave you, you relax slightly.

“We’ll walk to my desk, look at a few papers, and then go in?” you suggest as Deacon gestures for you to enter.

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

“The suit looks good,” you mumble as you walk toward the elevator.

Deacon chuckles as the elevator door opens, and you smile as he shakes his head at your flattery. The elevator is quiet, and as you wait to arrive on your floor, you take a few deep breaths. Deacon’s hand finds your lower back, and he rubs small, comforting circles before the door opens.

“Still working on the paperwork issue?” Nola asks when you reach your desk.

“Yeah, we are. This is Ryan from the Santa Monica branch,” you say.

Nola’s eyes narrow at you before she looks at Deacon’s hand. He’s close to you, like always, but you don’t understand her look. You raise your brows, but she only shrugs before looking back at her computer.

“Was it this one?” you ask Deacon.

He takes the blank form from your hand and nods. “Yes, this is the one.”

You return the paper to its rightful place on your desk before leading Deacon down another hallway. Nola’s reaction confused you at first, yet you’re not surprised when Deacon gently grabs your hip to stop you in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s fine. Just stay calm and remember our covers. Like you said, Dupree won’t know any difference,” Deacon soothes. “And the team’s waiting for our signal if we need them.”

You nod, and Deacon’s hands raise to your shoulders as he drops his chin to look into your eyes.

“You got this,” he promises.

“I need to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Dupree,” you inform his secretary. “This is Mr. Ryan Davidson from the Santa Monica branch. There have been some discrepancies with paperwork submitted to their office, which needs Mr. Dupree’s immediate attention.”

His secretary raises the receiver of her desk phone and whispers into it. You turn to look at Deacon, and he tilts his head to the left to signal you to stay calm and wait.

“You can go on in,” the secretary says as she lowers the phone.

Deacon opens the door for you, and you step inside first.

“Hello,” Mr. Dupree greets. He doesn’t pretend to remember your name, you notice. “I heard there’s an issue with some paperwork?”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon says. “I’m Ryan Davidson with the Santa Monica office and we’ve been having issues; receiving incomplete or incorrect paperwork from this branch.”

“My sincerest apologies, Ryan. If you don’t mind, use that laptop there and sign into your account while I bring mine up. We’ll get this sorted.”

You stand back as Deacon walks to the table at the back of the office and opens the laptop. Mr. Dupree didn’t shake his hand, ask for identification, or take other proper steps before jumping to help. It’s suspicious, but probably not what Deacon and his team need.

“What kind of incorrect information have you seen?” Mr. Dupree asks. You open your mouth to answer, and he adds, “Ryan?”

“Financial statements that aren’t matching previous months, for one. Most likely an oversight or adding the same bill twice. Nothing too extreme, just something we need sorted before the end-of-year audits,” Deacon answers.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his response. He practically repeated a complaint you shared during your last dinner together.

“Very well. I don’t know why the system is moving so slowly,” Dupree responds. He moves his hand under his desk as Deacon types.

You watch Dupree because Deacon’s team is getting him the access he needs. When you see the handle of a gun gripped in Dupree’s hand, you call, “Gun!” and drop to the floor just before he shoots above your head.

Deacon pulls his own weapon and points it at Dupree as he demands, “Put the gun down. I’m Sergeant Kay, L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.”

As Deacon speaks, you slowly press your back against the side of Dupree’s desk, where he can’t see you. Deacon’s eyes are on Dupree, but you watch Deacon because you trust him to keep you safe.

“I could put it down,” Dupree says. “But if I angle it like this and pull the trigger, wouldn’t it hit your little friend?”

Deacon glances at you quickly, and you lock eyes before you shift away from the oversized desk.

“One more time: drop the gun,” Deacon repeats.

You can’t see Dupree, but you clap your hands over your ears as you hear two shots. Everything goes quiet, and you lean forward slowly to look for Deacon. He kneels before you and gently pulls your hands away from your head. You let him move you before surging forward to hug him. He welcomes you into his arms as footsteps echo in the hallway outside.

“It’s okay. We got him,” Deacon promises.

You nod against Deacon and allow him to help you stand. Deacon keeps you angled away from Dupree’s desk, and you’re happy to avoid looking.

“Did you get everything you need?” you ask quietly as Street and Luca lead a paramedic inside.

“We did. Are you okay?”

Deacon lays a hand on your shoulder, and his thumb presses gently into your tense muscles as he looks into your eyes.

“Get her out of here. Hondo said you can take the rest of the day. Maybe she can practice for the competition,” Luca calls.

“I think you need the practice more than me,” you reply without turning.

Luca laughs as Deacon wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you out of the office. He takes you back to your desk to get your things, and Nola rushes to hug you when you enter the open area.

“I heard the shots and was so worried!” she exclaims. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you promise.

 “Then I need you to do something. Go home and ask your neighbor out. Don’t wait too long,” she says.

You nod and return to Deacon’s side. He heard everything from where he was standing, yet doesn’t comment as he helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Once you’re on the road, he fills the silence by asking you questions about what you will cook for your competition with Luca. You know he’s trying to distract you from what happened, and you appreciate it.

Back at the station, you sign some paperwork to receive CI benefits before walking to Deacon’s side. He offers to drive you home and keep you company, which you happily accept. You never like leaving Deacon and don’t want to be alone tonight.

“I waited too long,” Deacon murmurs while walking you out.

You stop and turn to face him as you ask, “For what?”

“What your friend said. I waited too long to ask you out.”

You smile and slide your hand into his. “Did you know that Nola looked at us like that because you were standing really close to me?" Deacon shrugs, and you explain, “I never shut up about you, Deac. I’m in love with you, so she was confused about why I was standing so close to another man.”

“Never?” Deacon repeats playfully.

“You didn’t wait too long, Deac,” you promise.

“I didn’t?”

“Not if you take your chance right now.”

Deacon looks around quickly before yelling, “Hicks! Did you file it yet?”

“No; I’m busy, Deacon,” Hicks answers.

“Can you make her Hondo’s CI?”

Hicks looks between the two of you and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I can.”

When Deacon turns back to you, he doesn’t give you time to speak before he asks, “Will you go out with me?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer.

Your smile grows to match Deacon’s, but he makes it disappear when he pulls you in and kisses you. The sound of clapping makes you open your eyes as you pull back. Hondo leads 20 Squad in a round of applause, and you bury your face in Deacon’s chest to hide your grin and burning embarrassment.

“My CI’s never end up like this,” Hondo jokes.

“Pretty good timing, though, wasn’t it?” Deacon asks as he wraps his arms around you.

You stand wordlessly from the couch and walk past Deacon. He turns to watch you as you enter your bathroom and close the door. It only takes a moment for him to decide to follow you.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asks from outside the door. “And don’t just say you’re fine. We both know you’re not.”

You open the door and lean against the vanity as he walks in. “I feel bad that you had to shoot Dupree. I know he’s fine and he’ll recover, pay for him crimes, and everything. But you probably wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t think like that. If he had refused to drop the gun or fired again, I would have stopped him. Whether you were there or not. The only thing that was different was how fast I decided to do it; he was threatening you, but that didn’t affect my reaction itself.”

You nod, and Deacon places his hands on the vanity, caging you and keeping you close. “Don’t carry that guilt around,” he requests. “It gets heavy quickly.”

You slip your arms under Deacon’s to circle his waist. Because of your position, you look up at him and ask, “Could I have another kiss to help me overcome all of this guilt?”

Deacon laughs as his hand raises to rub your back. “Anything for my accidental CI.”

“I’m Hondo’s CI,” you remind him.

“But I’m the one that gets to kiss you, so who has the better timing?”

You let your kiss answer the question, and when Deacon pulls you against him to be even closer, you know that the wait was worth it. Though you probably won’t agree to go into the office of a weapon trafficker with him again, you will always be ready to help him when he asks and comfort him when he can’t. Despite how much you loved Deacon when you thought you could only be friends, you feel more love now that you know he feels the same.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 10 | stanley pines x f!reader 

Summary: pictures paint a thousand words, and it’s time you take some of your own

warnings (TW): swearing, discussions of death, grief, familial-loss 

tags: mutual-pining, character background, familial bonds

notes: HELLO ALL! I am doing much better and settled into my new apartment :) ive had a rather hectic couple of weeks and it may take me a couple more to really transition into my new space and job so there may be some breaths between updates for now!! Does this chapter reflect some of my own experiences? Of course, it does. Was I always gonna write this chapter? YES- this chapter is a reflective/background for our beautiful reader/doc’! The formulative next chapter is BIG BIG BIG (unless i think something is missing in which it will be thrown into said plot between this ch and the next “formed” one) but okay! I missed u all! Apologies for the lack of actual… well STAN in this ch lol

word count: 4.5k 

| masterlist | 

Her childhood home’s walls’ were scattered with differing picture frames. If you were to ask her what she remembers most distinctly about her abandoned corn-field house she would recount the countless pictures her grandmother collected and stretched across every inch of the hallways between closed doorways. She’d recount most distinct the presence of her mother, only ever in picture form, and the bearing weight of her grandmother's ire. 

Not to say the older woman hated her. No, she constantly breathed everlasting love at her. But when she tilted her head in certain lights her grandmother would remember that she was not actually her daughter. She had existed in the shadow of a dead woman for a long time, in that home. Her grandmother didn't have a waning memory though, only a waning heart. Forget herself in between her blame and love for the young child she was to take care of. 

As she grew with age she began to sympathize with her grandmother more and more. To lose a daughter so young, to have to raise the thing that tore her apart. It made her grandmother sick at times, and she didn’t have the heart to fault the woman for open palms and harsh words.

Her grandfather was quite a pillar in her memories though, a lasting good memory of the house and her childhood. He’d come home with dirty hands from fields and fold her into his arms every day, anyway. Some of her favorite memories are shucking corn on the porch with him, the sun cresting over the skyline, and crickets chirping between. She’d talk, and he’d listen. He was a quiet man, a content one, but he also carried a certain grief in his eyes when he’d look at her at times. Something she blamed herself for entirely. 

Reasonably she could compartmentalize that the death of her mother was not her fault, even without a therapist. Her mother was young when she fell pregnant with her, still in high school, had just gotten her driver's license. She knew, could reason, that she held no fault in this. In the entire situation. Besides her looks, she blamed herself plenty for that, she blamed herself for not doing more to distance herself from those picture frames. 

It’s why her grandmother forgot at times, why her grandfather looked most grieved when the sun set just right over the dinner table. She looked remarkably like her mother, a perfect picture replica in just the right shadows, just the right cadences. 

It’s why her grandmother didn’t take down the pictures, truly. Pictures of her mother in her prom dress, of her first and last Christmas under the tree. Of her mother in the backseat of her grandfather's old Buick, of her mother in the golden-crested corn fields just outside their back door. Because there was no point in forgetting because she haunted them every day. Her face was proof enough of that. 

She didn’t have any pictures of her own, any hung up anyways. She had the official ones done, of course, the yearbook photos and the prom pictures her friends’ mother took for them. But that’s where it stopped and ended. It was her own secret grief, but wasn’t comparable to the glint in her grandparents' eyes. So it stayed that, a secret. 

She dreamed of a simpler life at times. That she was her mother. That the pictures were her own, that her (grand)mother kissed her goodnight, and that her (grand)father didn’t hesitate when he hugged her. Dreamt of a life with her very own lover, dreamt of a life filled with children and apple pie and Christmases at her (grand)parents' house. She dreamed about that fantastical American dream, of wrap-around porches and pastures full of fireflies. But this too stayed a secret, until her junior year of high school. 

School came easy to her, and it usually served as a much-needed reprieve from her mirrored hallways. Come five years old she most looked forward to early mornings and car rides with her grandfather. Her caregivers were always drowsy in the morning and forgot themselves in the darkness of early September. Her grandmother would kiss her goodbye, and fold a packed sack lunch into her small hands. Her grandfather would lean in closer, and read blurry newspaper headlines off to her, like she cared to be known and be seen. Soon though, these mornings disappeared, with age. 

From the ages of fourteen to almost eighteen years old she did everything and anything to impress them, to distress them, and to upset them. She wanted them to capture her achievements in scrapbooks, and laugh over misadventures she would get into, much like they did with her mother's memory. She figured that’s how one lived, in shadows and stories. 

She joined every school club, then quickly quit them. She excelled in writing and sciences alike, and then quickly failed them. She earned enough money to buy her first beat-up car, then quickly veered it into the nearest ditch. She snuck off, broke locks on doors and off windows, ran through fields, and came home late with mayhem in her wake. Prayed that the back porch light would be on, that her grandfather would be back there, on the porch, smoking his cigars. That he’d have that awful look on his brow, that he’d look at her different, speak to her like she wasn’t a shadow, carry a cadence in remembering her name in his anger. She hated when he didn’t remember her the most, even if the memory wasn’t a good one. 

For the longest time, her grandfather was her favorite person, even if he stumbled over his words, and misspoke her name at times. It almost didn’t matter as much to her, because he had a predisposition to always apologize, unlike her grandmother. 

She could always count on him being on the back porch, during the fall and summer and spring months. He had a favorite wooden chair, no cushion in site. Most would have called him a rather stiff man. Stiff in his gait, stiff in his politics, and he usually had a stiff drink on him. But he was a warmth that she didn’t wish to forget, she was his only granddaughter, the last line of his family. 

Her grandfather, while quiet, was an amazing listener, and had a plethora of solid advice to usually dish out most nights. But he was only open for certain hours and seasons, only ever when he was outside and only ever when the sun hung low in the sky. 

Most of her actual problems she never had the guts to voice to the stoic man, she mostly spoke of school, of subjects and passing friends and any gossip she could get her hands on. Her grandfather was a nosey man, funnily enough, and enjoyed listening to whatever she could sparse from the school halls that day.                                                                                 

Their topic that night, though, had her grandfather sitting in a longer silence than she was comfortable with, a stiff drink balanced in his left hand. Her grandmother had scolded her during dinner, for not having looked into colleges to attend as of yet. She was in her eleventh year and hadn’t even considered truly attending. She knew a handful of other female students who didn’t even plan to go, she figured she fell into that category also. Figured she’d wind up much like her grandmother was now, doing the dishes while her husband lounged. Something her grandmother claimed she didn’t mind but something she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around. 

Truly she did not know what she wanted to do after graduation. It still felt like she had so much time, but in all honestly that illusion was fading. She knew something for sure though, that she didn’t have a desire to go to college. She wouldn’t even know what for, and she wanted to be close to home. Closer to the shadow she lived in and in suffocating hallways. She didn’t know anything else. 

Perhaps that’s what her grandmother meant, that she didn’t mind, because she had no mind in it at all. She didn’t know anything else, anything other than this house and her husband and the child that had torn her own apart. It wasn’t a comfort it just was. 

She liked routine, despised change, and preferred her adventures in corn and soybean fields. Preferred late nights with friends with windows rolled all the way down in convertible cars, and preferred stiff drinks with her grandfather on the shaded porch. So she would stay. She said as such at the dinner table too, something her grandmother didn’t take too kindly to. Having her (grand)daughter speak back to her. 

She didn’t break the quiet tension between them that night on the porch. She’d love to forget what happened over the dinner table entirely. The heat in her grandmother's eyes, the ire behind her twisted words. That she would leave, would seek better for herself out there in the world. Educate herself and move on from this home, from suffocating walls, and from them. That's what she figured her grandmother really meant, that in some twisted way, she wished to be rid of her. Hated living with a mirror of her daughter around every corner. The old woman could take down sun-stained pictures and be rid of the image of her forever, rest peacefully knowing she’s finally pushed her so far away. Fold what was left of her mother into boxes and ship it all away for once. 

It made her bitter, at the time. She resented the older woman on and off for years. When she was younger she didn’t understand it all, couldn’t quantify her grandmother's grief, tucked herself into corners, and disappeared into nooks of fields and sheds to distance herself from heated looks. At seventeen it had transformed into an equal distaste. Nothing she did seemed to shape up to the image her caregiver had of her, and she grew tired of attempting to evoke even the slightest of positive emotions from the woman now. The only time she was ever at ease is when she forgets who she even truly is. How was she to pretend to be someone she didn’t even know? She couldn’t even compartmentalize the depth of her own self. She was still a little girl in her mind, still six and begging her grandmother to hang their family portrait that she had drawn on the fridge. She didn’t have it in her to beg anymore and didn’t have it in her to even define who she was. 

Looking back at it all, she realized she was never supposed to know. People change all the time, she had changed. It all just depended on who you surrounded yourself with. In that home, in those fields, and on those gravel roads she had no one. No one but a fading grandmother and a tired grandfather, and perhaps it wasn’t even fair to continuously implore that she stay. She wouldn’t be who she is now, wouldn’t recognize herself even now if she hadn’t left. And if her grandfather hadn’t convinced her of such. 

Her grandfather broke that tension between them that night. She remembers distinctly his words that he spoke between them that night. 

“You can live here sure, but could you die here?” He spoke abruptly, nursing his cup along the wooden edge of his chair. 

She scoffed, shaking her head, fixing her eyes to the fields beyond. “Now that’s just dramatic as hell.” 

“I’m being serious.” He sips his drink, humming along the rim of his cup. “You can see yourself living here because you do now, but can you see yourself dying here? Would you be happy to die here?” 

“What are you even talking about? Happy? To die?” She shifts her eyes back to him, his own eyes glassy. 

“Your mother never made it out of here. Never so much as had a life beyond this plot of land. I dreamed of her being free of it one day.” He sighs like it choked his throat and was too heavy on his chest to admit. They didn’t speak of her often, at least not when he was as sober as he was now. “ Happy, out there somewhere.” 

“Was mama not happy, grandpa?” She implores, figuring he may be being the most honest he’s ever been in this moment

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Your mother was the brightest thing in the room. But people grow up, get older, and sometimes those bright things die. I wanted her to get out, explore new bright things, things to push off the dying parts of you.” 

“So you think I should go?” 

“I think one day, when they put people to rest, that the dirt matters. I think you should find new dirt, kiddo.” 

She shakes her head, burying it in her palms. She can feel the pent-up tears, feel the shake of her shoulders before it makes its way from her stomach to her lungs. “I’m scared though, pa’.” 

“Good.” He hums, a comfort to his deep voice. “Humans are scared of things they don’t yet know. Soon, new dirt won’t be so scary.” 

She leaves that discussion on the back porch, and her grandfather does not discuss it again in her presence. He really only needed one conversation to sway her, make her consider. She kept it to herself though, felt too private to consider out loud across dinner tables and porches. She was afraid to admit that it… scared her. The thought of leaving the only thing she’d ever known, leave behind the firefly fields and the four corners of her bedroom. Perhaps she’d even miss the four corners of the picture frames, and the call of her name from the room over. 

Her grandfather's health waned that last year of high school. He soon forgot where simple things were. Forgot where the utensils drawer was in the kitchen, and wondered where the lamp in the corner of the living room was when he turned his back. She learned that memories fade in waves and that there are acts and paragraphs and distances between forgetfulness. That when he’d turn and forget to take his shoes off when he got home from the fields it would evolve into him forgetting where their gravel driveway was. That’d he’d forget numbers and words to describe things. That he’d forget soon, how to spell his name, and how to properly hold a pen. That soon he’d forget how to climb the stairs, and then forget how to put one foot in front of the other. 

Forgetting who people were always seemed to come last because categorically it was the most painful to forget. She suffered through being called by her mother’s name for months, she never had the strength to correct her wilting grandfather. But watching the man forget his own daughter was different, and she grieved differently for her and her own mother that last month of his life. 

After he forgot for good and faded from this plane into the next, it upset her, even more, to watch her grandmother do much of nothing about it. She waited in anticipation, for the rage and denial that came with death. She recounted the stages of them in her head for weeks, but never witnessed her grandmother falter in all that time. It angered her beyond anything she knew up until then. It exploded in her face one day when she came home to her grandmother folding away picture frames into boxes in the living room. 

It took her only a moment to find it was exclusively her grandfather’s pictures she’d plucked bare from the walls. Holes were left empty along the living room, nails protruding from the blank white walls behind the many portraits. How could she fold him away into boxes, remove him from walls and from corners of the house, like he wasn’t still here, in every room they passed through? 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

Her grandmother turned, her usual quirk in her brow and downturned look in her eyes. “Language, girl.” 

“No.” She stomped forward, ripping the frame from her caregiver's grasp. “Why the fuck are you putting him away.” 

“Enough.” She scoffed. “I’m not putting him away.” She waves her hands around the living room, to his recliner chair and the lamp he would turn on each night to read his newspaper. Points to his books of sudoku on the coffee table and his empty T.V. dinner tray he’d set his late-night hot coco on. “He’s still here. He’s right here.” 

“No.” She pushed back and away from her grandmother. “Why would you put his portraits away? Why would you take them down?” 

Her grandmother shakes her head, hands on her hips, a weird look of defeat on her face for once. “I won’t be interrogated about my interior design skills.” She moves around her, back through the open doorway into the kitchen light. 

She runs after her, picture gripped in her left hand, her right continuously running over her chest, self-soothing. “No!” 

“Yes!” Came her grandmother's reply from her position bent over the kitchen sink, going back to washing sudsy dishes that she left to soak. 

“Why?” She begged, stepping closer to her grandmother's back. “Why the pictures? Why the fucking pictures, ma’?” 

Her grandmother doesn’t wilt, twisting her head to look back at the girl she had raised, the girl she had raised twice now. “What?” 

“You know what I’m talking about ma’ don’t play dumb!” She never would have ever called her matriarch that in her right mind, but the disrespect felt inconsequential in the visage of her anger. “Why the pictures?” She held up the portrait in her left hand, facing it towards her grandmother. 

Only then did she melt in front of her, suddenly looking younger than she’d ever remembered her grandmother. Eyes teary and hands soaked from the kitchen sink she reached for the frame, holding it in weathered hands, tracing the portrait with slight fingers. 

It struck her, that she could not drum up a memory of her grandmother ever crying in front of her. Her caregiver had always been headstrong, stubborn at her worst, and mellow yet firm at her best. But never a wavered figure. She remembers now, the woman’s age. 

It has her moving forward, has her reaching for her grandmother's shoulders for the first time in forever, shuffling the smaller woman to the dinner table. Pulling the chair out and allowing her grandmother to compose herself while sitting at the unset table. 

It’s her grandmother that breaks that hanging tension, breathing out around her tears and stuffed nose. Chuckling at the image now held in her hands. 

“It rained right after this picture.” She couldn’t stop laughing now, bent over, and holding the image between them. “He took me out for a picnic, set up the stand for the photograph and everything. Then boom, ten minutes later we were caught in a thunderstorm! We were a good mile away from his car.” 

It was unlike her meticulous grandfather to not have checked the weather. Something she questioned out loud to her grandmother. 

She sighed, a tilt of her head that still spoke of her love for the man that haunted them both now. “He was so nervous that day, he forgot to check. He was going to propose that day, he told me later. Had it all planned out, but then forgot to check the weather.” The first thing he’d ever truly forgotten.

They both laughed, staring back at the framed photo of her grandfather and grandmother sprawled out on a checkered picnic blanket. 

She looked back at her grandmother, finding the older woman was already staring back at her. Her frail hand reached out, tucking frazzled hair behind her ear. Moving her hand back over her cheek to her chin, tilted her head up to face the older woman's head on. 

“I’m sorry.” A break in her grandmother's voice. “I kept them up because I thought it best. I thought you would want to know her.” To know her mother. “But it was selfish of me. To keep her up on all these walls.” Her thumb was firm on her chin now, tears leaking down her own face now, too. “I didn’t make any room, for you here.” 

“I’m not her, ma’.” 

She sighs a smile on her face suddenly. “You aren’t my daughter.” Moved her hand back, to cup her cheek again, palm warm against her. “But you are not nothing to me.” 

“I know, ma’.” Her grandmother moved, wiping tears from her cheeks. 

“But you need your own space now.” 

She nods, understanding what her grandmother finally meant. She needed her own walls and space and dirt. She needed to leave, and find her own four corners and hang her own pictures, and she knew her grandmother would help her get there too. 

“Do you want it?” 

“Huh?” She startles, turning her gaze to Stanley beside her. The camera in front of her was brand new, and a stupid turquoise blue. Turquoise like her mother's bike, in that one picture, hung along the wall right before her grandparents' room. Turquoise still, that bike was, rusty around the chains, when she found it stuffed in the back of one of the many sheds on her grandparents' farm one summer when she was but thirteen. Turquoise, which she loved to hate but secretly adored. Perhaps it was her favorite color, her mother's, that is. 

He’s waiting beside her, his arms full of odds and ends he found in the thrift store. Things he would tear apart and resew into new things- weird attractions to entice customers into their homes to pay the bills. 

She laughs, struck by his ridiculous tactic of not grabbing a shopping basket in favor of stuffing his broad arms full of odds and ends. Easier to steal, he claimed, when you don’t have a shopping basket. 

“Nah.” She lies. “Color just reminded me of something.” 

He shrugs, goofily dropping something from his arms. He bends over to pick it up, narrating out loud to get a smile back on her face. Anything but that deep contemplative look on her face and that scrunch in her brow. 

“I’m bending over now. Definitely didn’t just spot something on the bottom shelf that I want… definitely didn’t just get that also.” He stands again, shuffling things around in his arms. “That thing may or may not still be on the bottom shelf.” 

She laughs, taking some things from his arms and heading up. “Come on, you don’t need much else here. Let's get some dinner already.” Already thinking of the order she’d get at Greasy’s. 

They check out without a hitch, mainly because the teen at the register barely looks up from their magazine to take their money. Stan jokes about the potential to have just left the shop with their arms full without having paid a dime.

“They didn’t even look up! We could have just booked it, hun!” 

“No, we couldn’t have!” She laughs. “Plus I don’t wanna get some poor kid fired, Stan.” 

He huffs, pulling her door open, then putting their bags in the back seat of the car. He doesn’t make another comment until he gets to his own side, sighing slightly in the front seat while pulling something out of his inner coat pocket. 

“Now-” 

“Stan don’t tell me you took that dumb salt shaker from the bottom shelf for real.” 

“No, hun.” He laughs, handing over a flash of turquoise. “Just this.” 

She smiles unconsciously, holding the ugly camera in both her hands. Bringing it up to her eye to see out the camera, checking the back of it for the film. She can’t help but tear up, about something as stupid as the potential to finally take her own pictures. Something she forgot about even wanting between everything else. Next, she’d have to get out of the car and roll around this new dirt she found herself on. 

His doc’ was a terrible liar. He knew she wanted that camera as soon as she stopped in front of it. She kept passing it in the store, kept wandering back in front of it, but never reached out for it. Just… stared. He didn’t wanna figure on the significance of her fascination (unless she supplied it readily), only wanted to figure how she’d brighten up the room if she had it. So he took it. 

It was the best thing he’d ever stolen her. Between her snatched spoons and stolen diner crayons, this felt more significant. More purposeful, more solid between them. He knew she wanted it, so he got it for her. It felt significant, and it made her heart ache for the young girl surrounded by all those pictures that acted as twisted mirrors. He didn’t even know, what it meant to her. 

“Thank you, Stanley.” She smiles at him, all bright like he predicted. The edge of a tear along her eye, so he reaches and folds her into his broad shoulder. He grazes his lips along her hairline, humming close to her ear like he knows she enjoyed. Perhaps it was like that thing she did, soothing her hand over her heart and chest. Maybe the warmth of him and the vibration reminded her of four corners and hallways and home. At least he hoped, stupidly. 

He brings her back out, reaching over her and buckling her in as she smiles stupidly at him and then back at the camera back in her lap. 

“To dinner!” He exclaims, turning the cars’ keys to begin their journey to Greasy’s for their yearly anniversary dinner. 

She’d have to get some picture frames, for them.

[chains-of-destiny]

Few families can say that they've been blessed by the gods, and even fewer can count ancestors as illustrious and celebrated as Niemon, your great-grandfather. He was the very man who led the rebellion against a tyrannical magocracy and laid the founding stones for a free and fair republic. Your family was destined for greatness and respect, but your grandfather ruined it all… You are the heir to House Serin, and the burden of your family's legacy weighs heavily on you. However, your destiny is much greater than that of your forefathers, maybe even the great Niemon's. So, let the chronicles begin! But remember, the chains of destiny are strong and will not be easily broken. Do you have the power to defy fate?

This is the first book of Chains of Destiny, a planned trilogy where you step into the shoes of the heir to House Serin. Set in the fictional continent of Runsas, your choices will not only shape your life but also impact the lives of those around you and the future of the republic. Uncover the secrets behind your grandfather's betrayal, break free from the chains that bind you, and finally take control of your destiny.

The game is more character/story-focused and places less emphasis on stats.

[Link to the demo]

Total word count: ~311k words (as of 2024/10/06)

ROs | Forum Page  | Update Log

The intention is not to make the story as dark as possible but to establish a living, breathing world that exists within the setting it found itself in. So, you will not be swimming in a sea of blood and body parts, it is not the point of the story. Still, I feel obliged to warn any potential players before playing this game, as certain scenes contain things that may not be for everyone.

Reader Discretion Advised: This content may be disturbing or triggering for some players. Proceed with caution and consider your own emotional well-being before continuing.

[Content warning] - this game currently contains (or will contain in the future):

Strong language

Graphic scenes of violence

Graphic depictions of injuries, wounds, and corpses

Scenes of physical and emotional abuse

Blood and gore

Dark and disturbing themes

Body horror - Transformation (skippable)

Alcohol and drug use

Mentions and references to animal death

Mutilation

Physical and psychological Trauma

War crimes

Manipulation and gaslighting

Themes of authoritarianism and oppression/discrimination of certain groups of people

Themes of war and conflict

- The list may or may not expand as the development progresses.

Also, this story was created purely out of my passion for writing. It does not intend to preach or lecture anyone about any particular topic or belief.

If you feel that any part of this game is preaching or trying to convey a specific message, it is unintentional, and I sincerely apologize. The primary goal is to provide an enjoyable and fun experience for everyone.

PS: I should've already made a post like this in the beginning, but somehow I just forgot to.😄

[kazbrown]

I've been thinking about an watching/reaction fic idea for FOP.

Weird, I know, but listen.

Timmy, Tootie, the twins, Cosmo, Wanda, Peri, Hazel and Dev watch some of Timmy's best moments/episodes, cuz I feel like people sleep on Timmy's accomplishments over the years.

I can see a couple things happening in this kinda fic:

Tootie would be matured but still fangirl over her husband's heroics with Peri being almost just as bad.

Tammy and Tommy would see how cool their dad is

Cosmo and Wanda being the sappy, embarrassing, proud parents over their son.

Hazel would be awed at her godbrothers(?) feats.

Dev would be at first be jealous of Timmy and be insecure about himself, but will eventually see Timmy be a better father than Dale.

Episodes they should watch:

Abracatastrophe

Channel Chasers

Fairly Odd Baby ( to embarrassed Peri lol )

For Emergencies only

Wishology

Any Tootie foucued episodes

Jimmy Timmy Power Hours

Nicktoons Unite ( not necessary but fun idea )

EDIT: I totally forgot about one episode they HAVE to see: It's a Wishful Life! It would get EVERYONE foaming at the mouth and angry at Jorgen. I've imagined Timmy never told Cosmo and Wanda about that wish, since they seem to not remember.

Anyway, what do you guys think? Just a fun and unique idea I thought of while getting in back into Fairly Oddparents, I know I can't be trusted to write something this good ( I've still yet to update my Hazbin Hotel fic since May 😭 ), so I hope someone would see this and write it.

Please, I'm VERY DESPERATE for this kind of reaction fic!

[redrose10]

Here is Chapter 6! Things are getting heated between the two. I appreciate the feedback and I hope you’re enjoying the story!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 4,322

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

After what seemed like forever you and Jimin were having a day together at his place. He put out a spread of various foods and drinks while the two of you talked and caught up with each other.

“How have things been between you and Yoongi?”

“Slightly better I guess. We have meals together sometimes and we talk a little more.”

“He doesn’t shut up about you at work.”

“What do you mean?”, you asked taking a bite of your dumpling.

Jimin giggled, “I don’t know, he’s just always asking about you. Like how you’re doing or if you mentioned anything about him. It’s kind of cute. Like a teenager with a crush.”

“I mean we live together and we’re already married. Why doesn’t he just ask me himself?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s always been kind of weird that way.”

“Oh yeah I completely forgot to tell you that he was livid last night about you introducing me to Taehyung. Said he was going to kill you and then fire you. I still don’t know why he got so upset about the whole thing.”

“Well because Taehyung is extremely handsome and also very straight forwardly friendly and kind. He’s a lot of what Yoongi isn’t and Yoongi knows that. I think he was a little worried you’d run off because he knows he wouldn’t stand a chance if Taehyung made a move on you.”

His words caused you to stop and think for a moment. Yoongi jealous? “I mean why would he care so much? I feel like he’s been trying to get rid of me since day one so Taehyung would just be doing him a favor.”

“I don’t know. I think he’s starting to come around a little. Maybe you’re slowly melting away at his ice cold heart.”

You remembered what Seokjin had told you about Yoongi coming around eventually.

“Yeah well tell that to all the women he already cheated on me with. I’m sure that’s still going on somehow.”

“Trust me I know. I’ve had many words with him about that. Now as far as I know he hasn’t been with any women in a couple months. He even transferred out one of his favorite interns because she wasn’t taking no for an answer and kept coming on to him.”

The laugh that you let out bellowed through the room, “Yeah okay. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

After finishing up all the food that was left and helping him clean up you said goodbye to Jimin and headed home. You felt better, lighter even, after spending the day with him. It was definitely something you needed. Getting home you were surprised to find Yoongi sitting on the couch watching a basketball game. He was dressed comfortably in sweats and a tshirt. It was off as you’ve alway seen him in expensive suits. Even his casual wear was usually still designer and well styled. You’ve never seen him look so plain before but he looked happier somehow.

When he noticed you he smiled and told you there was some takeout in the fridge that he had ordered for you just in case you were hungry.

You thanked him and headed off to your room wanting to take a hot shower and get ready for bed as you weren’t really hungry after eating at Jimins all day.

Just as you were about to get under the covers a soft knock appeared at your door. Yoongi was standing there holding a mug which he quickly handed over to you and you smiled at the warm milk staring back at you. You had a feeling that he wanted something more than to just bring you a glass of milk at 11pm.

Your instincts were right because he began to nervously scratched at the side of his neck, “So Y/N our first anniversary is coming up and I was wondering if maybe you would like to go on a trip with me. To celebrate. It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d fully understand. I just thought maybe we could go somewhere or I don’t know. Again it’s okay if you don’t want to go. I haven’t planned anything yet. I just thought I’d ask to see what you’d say. It’s probably a dumb idea.”

At this point he was rambling so fast you could barely make out what he was saying. Maybe it was the fact that you were so tired or that you were still on a high from the great day you had with Jimin but you agreed. “Sure Yoongi. I’ll go with you. Sounds nice.”

You could see the tension leave his body as well as the surprised look on his face showing that he fully expected you to decline his offer. “Okay, I’ll let you know the details once I have them figured out.”

Nodding you shut the door and climbed in bed with your mind racing. Another week stuck on vacation with Yoongi. Something you had hoped you’d never have to go through again.

A few days went by and one day during dinner Yoongi had told you that the anniversary trip was going to be a surprise. All you needed to know was to pack comfy clothes and that he’d handle the rest.

Two weeks later you were in the passenger seat as Yoongi drove the two of you to your destination. While surprised that this trip didn’t involve a plane you were also excited as this meant you werent going to have to suffer in tropical hell again.

After a four hour car ride you pulled up in front of a large cabin.

“I know it’s not the Alps but I thought it would be nice to go somewhere more low key and quiet. I wanted a redo of our honeymoon since I had purposely picked somewhere I knew you’d hate.”

“I knew you did that on purpose.”, you smirked.

Yoongi opened the front door for you with the code he was given while he went back to the car to grab the bags. The cabin was what you’d always dreamed about. There was a large fireplace with a stack of wood ready to be burned sitting next to it. A big comfy couch adorned with fluffy blankets and pillows sat in front. The kitchen was massive and to your surprise already fully stocked with food. Making your way upstairs to the master bedroom you were excited to see a balcony.

Stepping out you were greeted with the most breath taking view you’d ever seen. Snow covered mountains were framed by tall and full pine trees. Off in the distance a family of deer ran through the snow. You felt like you were looking at a Christmas card. It was quiet and peaceful and everything you could hope for.

While taking in the beauty you didn’t notice Yoongi step out onto the balcony behind you. He startled you as he spoke, “Do you like it?” “Yeah it’s incredible.”, you smiled. It didn’t take long for him to violently start shivering which got a big laugh out of you even though he tried his best to hide it.

“Come on you big baby. Let’s go back inside.”

Once back in the warmth of the cabin Yoongi told you to take a shower or a nap or whatever you wanted and he’d start on dinner.

You opted for a nice hot bath letting the water soothe you. The lavender oil provided by the host adding a nice comforting touch. When you were cleaned and changed into some comfy clothes you went down to the bottom level finding that Yoongi had built a fire and was just putting the finishing touches on the meal.

You both ate quietly before you grabbed a blanket and went to the couch to watch a movie while he cleaned up before joining you. There was an awkward feeling in you. Even though the two of you were married you’d never really spent quality time like this together. You weren’t sure if you should sit right next to him or maybe on the other side of the couch but is that too awkward? Should you share a blanket or get him his own? Let him pick the movie or should you? You felt kind of ridiculous because it shouldn’t be so hard to watch a movie with your husband but at the same time it’s Yoongi.

You wrapped yourself up in the fluffy green blanket and decided to just take a seat on the right side of the couch and let him make the next move. Yoongi walked in a few minutes later handing you a mug of warm milk before taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

“I already chose a movie. I hope that’s okay. It’s one I’ve been wanting to see for a while.”, he said.

“Yeah sure that’s fine.”, you shrugged secretly happy that you wouldn’t have to awkwardly try to pick something together.

After he clicked play you chuckled when you heard the familiar music.

“Seriously Harry Potter?”, you asked.

“Yeah I’ve never seen it before and I’ve been told I resemble one of the characters so I thought we’d check it out.”

Snuggling in deeper to your blanket you smiled and began to watch as the movie unfolded.

The two of you made it through the first movie and decided to also get through the second when about half way through you felt a sudden chill. Since you’d planned to go to bed after this movie you stopped adding wood to the fire and it was noticeably colder in the room. Looking over you noticed the goosebumps climbing up Yoongi’s arm and you realized he was without a blanket.

Knowing that you were probably going to regret it later you scooted over so you were sitting closer to him. Not touching but close enough that you could share your blanket so you reached over and placed half on his lap.

“Here you look cold.”

“Thank you.”, he said with a smile and pulled the blanket up to cover himself.

Once the movie was over and after a passionate review on his part you made your way upstairs when the realization hit you. This cabin only had one bed. Yoongi who was not far behind you stopped when he noticed you standing there.

“Oh um how are we going to sleep tonight? I mean with only one bed?”, you asked.

“Well I thought we could share the bed together. Sorry I guess I should’ve asked you first. I can sleep down on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

For a second you really did consider making him sleep on the couch but ultimately decided that the bed was big enough for the two of you to comfortably share.

After completing your nightly routines you got in bed leaving a healthy space between the two of you. Both on your backs staring up at ceiling in silence until Yoongi spoke.

“Red”

You looked over at him with furrowed brows, “I’m sorry, what?”

Not removing his eyes from the spot on the ceiling he continued, “My favorite color is red. When we first went on a date you asked me and I made a sarcastic remark instead of telling you so I’m telling you now.”

You hummed.

“I also do really like to drink whiskey but if I had to choose I would never pass up a glass of ice cold chocolate milk.”

You snorted and he laughed, “You have no room to make fun of me Miss Mug of Warm Milk Before Bed.”

“I love basketball and music. Those are my interests. Growing up I wanted to be a music producer maybe even a rapper but my parents put a stop to that and made sure I would be set up to take over the company instead. Sometimes I regret that I let them stop me. Maybe I’d be a happier person if I went against their wishes.”

“I think you’re pretty good at what you do though. I mean you seem successful. But you should definitely rap for me one day. I’d pay to hear that.”

“I don’t think you could handle my lyrics.”, he said causing you both to erupt into laughter.

After a while of silence he continued, “Y/N I want to apologize for the way I treated you this first year. I know these are just words and you’re going to need a lot more than that from me but I’m going to do my best.”

“I heard from Jimin that you haven’t been hooking up with other women any more. Is that true?”

“Mmhm yeah it is. I haven’t been with anyone in a couple months.”

“Can I ask you another question?”, you asked.

“Go for it.”

“Why were you so determined to make this marriage miserable?”

He let go of a long sigh, “Well it’s kind of a long story. But uh when I was sixteen I met this girl, Mia. After a few months I finally worked up the courage to ask her out and she said yes. We dated for a while and when we were nineteen I wanted to propose. We were young but I knew I loved her more than anything in this world and I wanted to spend my life with her because there’d never be anyone else that I could possibly love that much. She was my everything. So I had this big elaborate proposal planned. She thought I was out of town on a business trip but I had lied about that and I left her a note in our apartment telling her to meet me on the rooftop of our building and I had the whole area decorated with roses and there was a dinner planned and I had a piano set up to play her a song that I wrote and then I’d get down on one knee. But after she was like 45 minutes late I went down to the apartment to see what was going on and she didn’t even read the note because she was too busy fucking some guy in our bed. Then she confessed that she’d been cheating on me the entire relationship and was only with me for the money and perks of my family. So after that I swore I’d never love anyone ever again. If I don’t love anyone then they can’t possibly hurt me like that. So after I met you I wanted you to hate me and treat me like you hated me because then I’d never fall for you but no matter what I did you’d still always be kind and be there waiting for me and putting in effort to make this work. I found myself starting to realize that maybe not everyone is out to just use me and that someone could actually love me.”

You sat in silence trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry Yoongi. That did sound like a really nice proposal though. A lot better than here’s this contract, sign on the dotted line like mine.”

He chucked, “Nah looking back it was pretty cheesy anyways. Maybe one day I’ll give you the proposal you deserve.”

“Okay but I want a song. And there better be a rap verse.”

“Deal. Any thing for you.”

The room fell into a silence after that.

“Anything you’d like to ask me?”, you questioned with a smile wanting to change the subject.

“Nope” he said but thankfully you could hear the playful smile in his voice.

“What is your family like?

You knew he was trying to ask about the orphanage thing without directly bringing it up so you decided to just spill it.

“Umm well my parents were great from what I remember. They were killed in a car accident when I was around five. Then I lived with my Aunt Erica until I was eight when she passed away from cancer. No one else in my family was willing or able to take me in so I was sent to live in an orphanage which is where I stayed until I turned eighteen. Then I met Jimin in college and we became really good friends. When he moved away I was pretty much on my own until I came here. So I guess we’re both just a couple broken hearted people, just in different ways.”

He didn’t respond right away and you weren’t sure if maybe you said too much until he spoke again.

“I’m really sorry Y/N. No one should have to go through something like that. I wish I could take away that pain.”

“It’s alright. Nothing can change it now.”

The two of you talked for a little while longer until finally falling asleep feeling a little closer.

The following day Yoongi took you sightseeing through the little mountain town. You ate lunch at a very cute cafe owned by the sweetest elderly woman who recognized Yoongi and kept gushing about how out of all the places to eat he chose her cafe. She even made him take a photo with her to hang on the wall. The woman wrapped her arms around his mid section clinging to him for dear life while completing how toned he felt which caused Yoongi to turn a shade of red you didn’t think was possible for a person. You got a good kick out of it at least.

After getting back to the cabin you changed out of your snow soaked clothes and agreed to continue watching the next Harry Potter film as a continuation of the night before. This time though without thinking you sat down next to Yoongi and immediately covered both of you with the blanket before grabbing the tray of cookies and various pastries he had bought at the cafe earlier. He gave you a smile before taking one of the cookies in his mouth.

You guys got through two more movies before deciding to call it a night and getting into bed.

When you fell asleep you were on opposite sides of the bed. So you were extremely confused when you woke up a couple hours later and Yoongi was now spooning you while holding you as close against him as you could get. His arms tightly wrapped around your waist as his breath tickled the back of your neck.

Part of you wanted to scramble out of the bed and get as far away from him as you could but another part of you was really enjoying the warmth and comfort of being in his arms.

You tried to distance yourself and push away from him a little but his arms only snaked around you tighter pulling you back.

In your attempt to push away you may have accidentally stirred something in him. Slowly he began placing kisses along the back of your neck and down your shoulder. His hand running down the side of your hip before his fingers began dancing on your thighs. Your body seemed to melt into him.

“Yoongi”, you whispered trying to get a better grasp of what his intentions were. Maybe he was just dreaming you thought. He placed another two kisses to the back of your neck, “Is this okay? I’ll stop if you want.” You really thought about it. Your heart was telling you no but your brain and the rest of your body was saying yes. “You really haven’t slept with anyone else in the last couple months?”, you questioned. “I swear on everything.”, he answered.

Turning over to face him you suddenly felt an extreme wave of nervousness come over you.

“We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable Y/N.”

You nodded, “I want to.”

He kissed your lips before adjusting himself to be on top of you. He began placing kisses along your neck past your collarbone. His hands reaching for the hem of your night shirt lightly gripping the edge. “Can I?”, he asked. You nodded slightly sitting up so he could pull the shirt off you.

“You really are beautiful Y/N.”, he said as his hands traced over your body.

As the kisses between you became more and more intense and his hands seemed to have more courage you felt him begin push himself against you and any apprehension you had went away. It had been so long since you’d been touched like this and you wanted him bad.

The rest of your clothes were removed as were his and your bodies reconnected like a magnet had pulled you two together. Whether it was the fact that it had been so long for you or the way that he took his time making sure to pleasure every inch of your body, it was the best and also most intense experience you had ever had.

Afterwards he pulled you close against him while you both tried to slow down your rapid breathing. He placed another kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. Just before he fell asleep you heard the faintest whisper, “I love you Y/N.”

After that you had a hard time falling asleep. Things in your relationship were moving a little too fast for your liking. This is what you had always hoped for and what you had always wanted but after everything that had happened with him you knew you would have to move forward carefully.

Having fallen asleep at some point you were woken up when Yoongi began moving and got out of the bed making his way to bathroom. A few minutes later the shower kicked on so you sat up stretching in the bed to wait your turn.

The nightstand next to you kept vibrating and you saw Yoongi’s phone laying face down.

Every few seconds

*Buzz*

*Buzz*

*Buzz*

You started to get annoyed but then you worried that something may be wrong. You grabbed his phone preparing to knock on the bathroom door when you happened to glance at the phone screen. There were several texts and missed calls nothing that concerned you as he was a busy guy after all. Until something red caught your eye. A text from someone name Suri. In the text a photo of a woman dressed in a barely there red lace lingerie set. You thought back to Yoongi telling you his favorite color was red. The text included with the photo is what caused the room to spin around you.

“Last week was amazing. Can’t wait to see you again. I went out and got a new outfit for you and in red just like you like it. Maybe don’t rip this one. ♥️😘”

After tossing the phone onto the bed you grabbed your suitcase and started throwing all of your belongings into it. You felt sick. You felt like crying. You felt like throwing something. He lied to you. He lied to you before, during, and after.

Yoongi unknowing of the events that just transpired came walking out of the bathroom towel drying his hair. “Y/N I think we should go back to that cafe for breakfast, they had a croissant sandwich I think you’ll really like, and then maybe walk down to that lake it looked really nic-.” He stopped when he saw you stuffing your bag.

“What are you doing?”

You looked up at him with a tear stained face.

“Y/N what happened? Did someone do something to you?”

“Yeah Yoongi, You!! I can’t believe you. What kind of sick game are you playing? Just when I thought you were changing for the better. That maybe deep down you were a good person and not a self centered jerk.”

“Y/N what’s going on? I don’t understand what happened?”

“Oh cut the bullshit Yoongi. You know if you wanted to just use me for sex we could’ve stayed at home and hate fucked each other or something. You didn’t have to bring me out here and make me think you were actually falling in love with me.”

“Y/N I do love you and I have been trying to change. I’m trying to show you that.”

“Fuck you Yoongi. I’m not doing this any more. Next time you need someone to stick your dick into go ahead and call Suri. It looks like she’s replaced the lingerie set that you ripped LAST WEEK! It’s a cute one too. I was even thinking about getting something similar last night but now at least I don’t have to waste money on it.”

Yoongi took a step forward to try and reach out to you but you put your hands up to separate yourself.

“Y/N nothing happened with her. I swear. I know it looks back but let me explain.”

“Save it.”

Before you grabbed the door handle you stopped and turned to face him, “You know I actually felt really bad for you after you told me about Mia and what she did to you. I understood how you could be the way that you are and I was 100% committed to trying to forgive you and move on with a loving happy marriage. But now, I don’t know if I can ever truly love you Yoongi.”

You slammed the door behind you and stormed out of the house. Thankfully the bus station wasn’t too far of a walk and the cold air gave you a chance to calm down anyways and also have an excuse as to why your face was so red. After buying a ticket you took a seat on a bench near the window to wait for your bus. You really wished you would’ve taken a shower before storming out of the cabin. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla heavily staining your skin, a painful reminder of your mistake from the night before.

[quinnonimp]

We Watch the Clouds & Stars: an OriginsSMP TNTduo Comic ☁️💫 | Anecdote: Awake or Alive [part 1/?]

content warning: discussion of death and afterlife

read left to right

NEXT

hello !!!!!!!!! im back on the grid again and with a bang, here to deliver a comic ive been working on since september ! its gonna be pretty messy, inconsistent, and just purely me having fun . therell be a lot of things ive thought through thoroughly, and therell be some things i forgot to even existed ! all in all this is a comic about a character whos been gone for a year and one that doesnt even exist, so its all built from me being silly

there will be sensitive topics discussed or depicted ! those will have a warning placed beforehand for each update, even though many of these things are meant to be up to interpretation or implied . some anecdotes ive written have been quite heavy though, so if i end up finishing them, listen to the content warnings

this will be a non-linear story, so instead of chapters i have named them anecdotes . they will be moreso bits and pieces of my o!quackity and o!wilbur's lives, specifically of them together, so some parts will be before or after others . some parts will reference each other, or foreshadow, but u likely wont need to read the anecdotes in any specific order

^ and so, because of this, the dynamics of wwtc&s!tntduo will change and will be inconsistent, just as what happens with real people if u look into random pockets of their life . some anecdotes theyll be more comfortable with each other, some theyll be more spiteful, some theyll be more awkward, etc. especially since oquackity has no character and owilbur is underdeveloped

this comic is a lot about change but also keeping familiarity in said change, which is totally not just an excuse for my inconsistent ass nope nuh-nuh. this time its actually relevant to the characters !!!!

and YEAH . i am doing all this just bc cc!quackity mentioned in the 2021 wine stream that he was in the originssmp discord and wanted to actually play but never did . im still mad abt it so ive decided to just make shit up now 👍

by the way !!!!!!!!! the big wings wilbur has on the cover r actually not canon anymore . Lol . i drew that before i had a more concrete idea of the comic and its concepts, but i really didnt feel like editing it (the tail is also missing), so i kept it cause idrc FDKDFKJ

i may draw him with wings again sometime just bc i really like it, but for the sake of story - know that theyre not canon, and that his cloak compensates for his lack of wings

there is likely more for me to explain, but rn im all over the place so i dont really remember what ! the next part will probs be up tomorrow or so, im not sure . really hope u guys enjoy

[drukhari]

Tristan do we get a list of ur horror movie recommendations??👀

Of course 🎃 this list is by no means comprehensive, i'm sure I forgot a few titles that I may come back and update later on if I remember them and it's not in any particular order. Cw for pretty much everything so watch at your own discretion and if there's stuff in particular that anyone wants to avoid i'd recommend doing some online searches first to see if the thing you wanna avoid is in the title you want to check out.

1. It Follows

2. 28 Days Later

3. Terrifier 2 and 3 (I also enjoyed the first one tbh but the first one has like 0 plot to speak of beyond "Art the Clown kills people in extraordinary ways")

4. Evil Dead 1, 2, Army of Darkness, and Rise

5. World War Z

6. Tetsuo the Iron Man

7. Halloween (the original and the 2018 one, I actually have a bit more appreciation for Halloween Kills now than when I first watched it so I'll add it as well but a LOT of fans hated it so ymmv I guess)

8. Scanners

9. Skinamarink (this one you really need to be fully engaged in watching the movie and putting yourself in the place of the main characters for. I watched this one solo in a dark room with my phone in the other room and really really enjoyed the nightmare journey it took me on but if id been on my phone or talking to friends then I don't think I'd have gotten nearly as much out of it)

10. Midsommar

11. Hereditary

12. Get Out

13. Nope

14. Us

15. House of 1000 Corpses

16. Noroi the Curse

17. The Thing

18. The Strangers

19. I Saw the TV Glow

20. Cabin in the Woods

21. Train to Busan

22. Saw (really just the first one tbh, while Saw X was also good it does kind of require you to have slogged through other titles in the series to fully follow the story)

23. Psycho Goreman

24. Mandy

25. The Midnight Meat Train

26. Ready or Not

27. The Descent

28. As Above So Below

29. Alien

30. Prometheus

31. Prey

32. I'm Just Fucking With You (another horror-comedy)

33. Mandy

34. Ichi the Killer

35. A Quiet Place

36. Scream

37. Talk to Me

38. Hellraiser (the original and the 2023 remake)

39. Green Room

40. The Lighthouse

41. The Grudge (I've also heard the Japanese version Ju-on is really good but have yet to see that one myself)

42. The Ring (same as with the Grudge, I've heard the original Japanese version Ringu is better but I haven't seen it yet to confirm)

43. Audition

44. X, Pearl and Maxxxine (they're a trilogy, X and Pearl can be watched as standalones but Maxxxine really doesn't hit if you haven't seen the first 2)

45. Texas Chainsaw Massacre (the original)

[slightlymediocree]

☆Update 2:☆

I remembered to take pics today! Sort of. Only after i had put away my machines and stuff...

Here are (most) of my edwardian undergarments

(i am wearing modern clothes under bcs the internet is weird)

Chemise, bustle pad, underbust corset, petticoat

I still need to make a corset cover someday, ive just been using a second thin chemise over all this:

I used these vintage buttons on the cuffs. I wanted some more security but ran out of buttons so i used small snaps:

Also put one on the collar so i could try it on. I think the placket at the back of the blouse is a little ugly and larger than ive seen in extant garments but i forgot to adjust the pattern for my broad shoulders and need the extra width for comfort.

I tried on the blouse and skirt together:

I may need to loosen the waistband of the skirt, the corset is a bit bulkier than i thought itd be. Also the blouse is just stuffed into the skirt and currently only has one closure on at the collar so it looks a little bit disproportionate. The belt/sash will help smooth everything out so i dont look like im drowning in voile.

I might go without the bustle pad during the final shoot because i think it gives too much volume in the waist/hip area for edwardian tastes. Its from an 1890s pattern, so the silhouette is a bit out of date. I should probably try the skirt on without the pad before extending the waistband though.

Im pretty happy with how the sleeves turned out! I have some vintage nottingham lace i bought on etsy from penelope textiles that i was going to add to another project. I think ill sew some different laces together and add it to the cuffs to elongate them a bit. Since this dress is supposed to be from roughly 1905, i want the sleeves to look as they wouldve in that time. The photos ive seen mostly feature large ruffles at the ends of elbow-length sleeves but i dont think ill be likely to wear ruffles very often. Ive also seen tighter cuffs that extend from the elbow to mid-forearm or from the elbow to wrist. I think the elbow-length sleeves are a feature of afternoon dresses but i could be wrong. Maybe that was just day dresses? Not sure.

Im also not sure if i want to get gloves/a hat/parasol for this project. On one hand, it would look really cool for the video. On the other hand, it sounds quite expensive and i doubt ill wear it again. I dont want to buy things i wont use and create waste, theres enough of that in fashion. I have a pink 1900s parasol that i might cover with black fabric, but idk.

There isnt much left to do! Im gonna make a list here so i have it written somewhere:

-sew snaps onto blouse

-finish blouse hem

-attatch lace cuffs

-press pleats on sash/belt

-order synthetic whalebones

-add bones, hook/bars to belt

This is just the sewing tasks though, i need to edit the video clips and record audio. I have no idea how to do any of this. I just downloaded davinci video editor so hopefully i can figure it out. The only experience i have with video making/editing was in 3rd grade on ipads on the imovie app. Ive just been binge watching bernadette banner videos bcs i love her video style.

Any tips/feedback are much appreciated! ♡

Date: 4/22/24

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Okay, either the scientist knew she was preggo or they just thought she was going through hormonal changes or whatever, there is NO WAY CROWLEY DOESNT KNOW THE HUMAN IS PREGGO.

Also, how much should I bet that Cater is just going to keep the whole world updated with every single DETAIL.

Oh, Lilia is going to have a FIELD DAY WHEN THE BABY IS BORN, same for Trein, he’s probably going to love it.

Referring to this fic snippet here:

Okay, to be fair, I forgot to mention that the events take place shortly after Yuu's arrival. Probably between chapter 2 and 3 given the timeline we have, which puts it at about...two, three weeks after the prologue and shortly after Riddle and Leona overblot.

As for the scientists/researchers, while logically speaking they would immediately jump at the chance to come to the island to start their studies, they first had to make sure these pictures circulating on Cater’s Magicam posts were legit first. Once it is established through a video or two that was posted, that's when they reach out to Crowley to make the arrangements!

And they actually arrive a week after the pregnancy announcement, so you can bet that they are very eager to get some studying done as quick as possible! 😂

As for the staff not realizing that fem!Yuu is pregnant, they are aware of what a pregnant monster's scent is like for sure. But because there hadn't been a human in centuries, even if Crowley was old enough to have been around humans, it's not like he remembers the scent off the top of his head! The staff would all essentially be like those confused cats and dogs trying to figure out what this strange bump is and why their human smells funny before instinctively feeling protective.

Can you just imagine Crowley building a nest for Yuu without realizing just *why* he was doing it in the first place? Or the blank stare he'd give the moment someone asked him like, "...why am I doing this??" and it only becomes clear shortly after the announcement, in which he tries to pretend he knew all along 😂

I'm also reminded of this one post where OP's cat had had multiple litters in the past and was so excited when OP got pregnant that the kitty kept trying to show her to the nest she made for OP's "kitten", and it was the sweetest thing I'd ever read 🥹

Anyway, you can bet your bottom madol that Cater will absolutely be keeping EVERYONE updated on Magicam throughout the whole process, and he is getting flooded with baby picture requests 🤣 It's also sweet how mothers come across the posts and try to offer advice that they'd learned on raising their kids, which is nice, though not all of the advice would really be practical based on species 😅 But at least they're sweet enough to offer that and words of encouragement! I can even see some inviting Yuu to a mother's support group meeting ;;v;;

You can also bet that Yuu will be receiving a lot of baby shower gifts and such from Cater’s followers. At least they don't have to worry about needing to buy diapers for a while! 🤣

Ooooooh yes, Lilia is going to be ecstatic to be able to hold and care for a baby again! He will offer to help watch over the little one (hadn't decided on a gender or name yet for the new baby) so Yuu can take a break, though don't worry about him trying to feed the baby his cooking. He learned and knows that milk is important for the baby, so he makes sure to have the bottles readily available even at Diasomnia~ (though Silver and the others make sure to keep an eye on him when it comes to feeding time just to be on the safe side)

Trein has already raised two daughters, and while he may not be interested in raising another, that's not to say he won't wind up spoiling the little human baby like any grandparent would! He'll also offer a shoulder for fem!Yuu to lean on and reassure her that she's doing a great job as a mother ;;v;;

[thr0wnawayy]

A Thought, A Theory

I'll probably make a more indepth post or may just update this one once the offical translations get dumped (which means pictures!), but I have a bit of a crack theory that chapter 430 isn't as real as we've been led to believe.

(As for when this actually takes place, that's up to you but I like to imagine the start of his third year marks the beginning of his mental decline)

This mostly comes from some inconsistencies in regards to the hero rankings and some other stuff

Its stated that Best Jeanist and Endeavor are still active. With the exception of Jeanist, this should not be possible for obvious reasons.

2. Something feels off visually and narrative-wise, I don't know how to describe this other than everything looks too ideallic. Like it feels too sanitized and sterile, this probably because Hori ripped the last bits of life this story had away. But hush. Also Aoyama is there didn't he leave UA? (and Japan)

3. Apparently people forgot the connection between Endeavor and Shoto. Normally this would be a good thing as Shoto would be able to become his own person.

This falls flat when you remember that also includes people forgetting the reason and happenings behind Shoto's existence, it just feels to good to be true. Everyone overlooks the bad and gets tunnel vision over any semblance of good.

Now you may be wondering, so what's going on.

Well, Midoriya's having a breakdown fantasy to cope with the fact that he won't be becoming a hero due to the loss of his quirk.

It sounds crazy but consider the following.

Midoriya subconsciously knows the way he's been treated was wrong. This manifests within the escapists fantasy in Bakugo's drop in the rankings + the attitude surrounding him (as well as his damaged hand never fully healing)

He meets a kid who just so happens to be in a near exact same position as he once* was (and still is to an extent). One could take this as his mind's way of trying to cope and heal itself, by having Midoriya do what he does best and help others, henceforth working though his trauma by using the kid as a stand in.

*Even the kid's "bully" seems to be a warped version of Bakugo (perhaps this is how Midoriya tries to fool himself into believing how it was)

We see Kota. I believe that here, Kota serves as what Midoriya thinks he could have been had he not failed. Kota is the idealized version of Midoriya here, the unobtainable.

I believe the abandonment/limited contact from his classmates to be based in reality, unfortunately. Whether it was by choice or forced by their PR to preserve their images (can't be seen around the "freaks" for too long, now can we?). The lie may come in the form of busy schedules.

(either it's what Midoriya tells himself or he's been told, you can't tell me they can't just make a group chat or video call. At least a High School Reunion)

The Mech Suit is a massive cope, it's the dying whimper of Midoriya's childish hope that All Might will save the day. This time there's no magic quirk, no garrish mech suit, no plot twist.

No. There's only Midoriya and the consequences of his, his classmates and hero societies actions. It doesn't matter how shiny and seamless the illusion, how sweet the lie.

You can't hide the blood.

[yellowbunnydreams]

Bunny Punk (Part 2)~Punk!William Afton x F!Reader~

~Know it's been a while since I updated this, but I have been busy and just kinda forgot about this one for a while since it wasn't one my main focuses before christmas. Sorry! Also sorry for any mental scarring this chapter may give you, it's definitely one of the spicier one's I've written.~

@robin-the-enby @ruh--roh-raggy

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI, mention of scars, body and face piercings (inc, tongue, prince albert), tattooed!reader, punk!William, tattooed!Afton, age gap (Reader 20's, William 40's). Dom Will/sub reader. Sir, you should not be using animatronic parts like that. Cunnilingus, riding, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, teasing.

Your little dorm room was right at the end of the hall, though the hall felt like it lasted forever as you fumbled for the keycard in the back of your phone, finally pulling it out ready for your door. The heavy footsteps of the tall, older man behind you a constant reminder of what you'd gotten yourself involved in.

William Afton, your idol, your celebrity crush, was following you with an intense stare and the bruising force of his kiss still lingered on your lips. Feeling where his piercing had pressed against your skin the deepest and left it's mark, you shivered slightly as your shaking fingers pushed your card into the reader and allowed the door to open, turning to see what William was doing before you raised an eyebrow at him.

He was looking around at the widely spaced doors, far wider spacing than when he'd been in college dorms. Looking at you curiously, he stepped through the open door and immediately saw the reason for the larger gaps. There was a little kitchen inside and a lounge, what looked like the door to a bathroom on his right and towards the back left, what appeared to be two doors leading presumably to bedrooms. William had to admit that he was impressed, although a glance at some paperwork on the counter made his lip curl as he was distinctly less impressed with the price of the place per month. Surely, there were cheaper apartments to rent in the city that were within a small commute?

"Luxurious, far more so than what I remember." He commented finally, making you shrug as you locked the door behind you and set your keys down on the table, kicking off your shoes and padding further into the open space. Hearing William remove his shoes behind you.

"It's supposed to 'promote independence'," you scoffed, making the man raise his pierced eyebrow before he stepped further into the space, wrapping his large arms around you from behind and smiling to himself as he felt you tense up under his touch, enjoying that you responded so eagerly to his touch. "I-I guess that's the idea."

"Hm...And what would your roommate think to you bringing strange, older men home to play?" He asked, letting his breath brush past your ear just to feel you shiver delightfully in his arms.

"I-I live alone, sir." Confirming what he suspected already with how organised everything was, tutting softly before he turned his head and whispered into your ear, making your heart pound as his low voice rumbled through your body delightfully, setting your nerves on fire already.

"Then I don't have to worry about making you scream, do I bunny?"

The words sent a shiver down your spine, turning around to see him biting at his tongue piercing, watching it run against his teeth before he wrapped his arms around your smaller body, letting his body press against yours before he chuckled darkly. Seeing how flustered you were, such a cute little thing that fed into his ego so perfectly, made him all too eager to dive into you and drink you up. But age had made him patient, and the weight of the spring-lock arm in his hand reassured that flare in his mind as he wondered if you really knew what you had walked yourself into when you met him. Such a project was impressive in itself.

A project that he could test on an all-too-willing subject whilst being adored for it, now that was a rare and precious gift.

"Show me your room then, or do you plan on me making a mess of you right here?" Prompting you to move as your cheeks once again heated up, eyes flickering over his smug grin and the dark light in his silvery eyes as you padded over to the door to your room. Opening it and gesturing for William to go inside first.

The beige walls had been decorated with plenty of posters of bands, but there were also cork-boards filled with blue-print paper and post-it notes of various colours detailing little formulas. Sometimes even simply scraps of paper torn from notebooks with various sketches and equations scribbled down as your creative mind had worked on the go. The desk littered with parts and boxes of spare pieces, recognising the disabled smoke-alarm sat on one part of the desk as you were probably using a soldering iron in your room despite the potential hazard.

He could see so much of himself in you, and soon he would definitely be seeing himself inside of you.

You sat on the edge of the double bed that had been crammed against the wall, sitting back on it slightly as William looked around your room with amusement and curiosity, his gaze landing on a small pile of fabric. Picking it up and inspecting it with a slightly furrowed brow.

"It's a prototype cover, for the arm." You explained, watching his eyes light up as he felt the velvety fabric beneath his rough fingertips and slipped on the spring-lock once again, pulling the cover over and feeling that familiar flexibility of foam covering the metal and the fabric over the top. "I tried to get the most accurate match I could to the original from photos."

"I'm sure I could find the original invoice for the fabric somewhere..it would tell you the exact dye code." He mused, watching your eyes light up in the way he'd seen in so few people when he talked shop. Smirking as you nodded your head eagerly, although he was quite impressed by how close the colour was to the original already. Leaving it on as he watched you, running the labret over his teeth before he spoke again. "Strip, slowly now bunny. I want to savour this image."

He kicked out the chair from your desk, sitting opposite you and leaning back with his legs spread. Giving you an ample view up the tall, older man's body as he put one arm over the back of the seat, the one in the spring-lock casually draped over his thick thigh as he watched you with a burning intensity.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your hoodie again, slowly pulling it up your body and revealing the tank-top you'd been wearing. How your jeans hugged your hips as you looked away from your idol sat there, savouring you as your fingers found the hem of your tank-top and pulled it off of your body too. Throwing both articles of clothing into the corner somewhere, leaving you in a maroon bra and jeans, glancing at Afton to watch as he raised his peirced brow, gesturing with the spring-Bonnie hand to continue and making you feel even more flustered.

William watched as your jeans came off, being kicked away as you were left in just your underwear. He felt himself twitching in his jeans, a smirk creasing the corner of his eyes as he watched your fingers hook into the straps over your shoulders before he raised his finger in a pausing gesture, watching how your left breast moved slightly with your rapidly beating heart. Standing up slowly and taking slow, deliberate steps towards you and feeling his excitement growing as you looked so vulnerable stood in front of him, pressing down onto your shoulders and forcing to sit.

He took his sweet time sinking to his knees, resting his hands on either side of your knees and brushing up the inside of your thighs, able to feel the contrast between the soft cool velvet of the animatronic hand and the warm, rough callouses of his bare hand. Yelping as he moved quickly and snapped his grip to your hips, fingers hooking into your panties and pulling, biting into your skin for a moment and making your eyes water slightly before the material gave and left you entirely bare to him. The older man smirking before he looked over your body. The bare hand holding onto your hip again whilst the soft fabric of the spring-lock hand traced over the inside of your thigh with a practised precision.

"You know, I wonder if you managed to work out one...kink...that Henry and I never could," He murmured, voice low and soft as he shifted on his knees, jeans too tight on him as he glanced up at you and saw you watching him through thick lashes. "see, spring-locks have a nasty habit of snapping closed when exposed to water."

The colour drained from your face as you heard him speaking and felt the breath from your lungs being stolen as one of the fabric covered digits stroked your outer lips, making your whole body shudder at the strange new sensation. Realising what he was planning to do and suddenly more concerned for his wellbeing.

"I-I haven't tested-"

"Well consider this the test, bunny. If you did it right, I give you indescribable pleasure...And well...My hand gets mangled if you haven't." Shrugging as he pressed one of the thicker digits into your body, listening as you gasped and clutched onto his shoulders, feeling the slight burn and ache as he stretched you over the soft digit. Hearing William's soft groan of approval as he pushed into your body, the fabric surprisingly not rough on your body as he continued to the hilt, slowly dragging each stroke against your walls and observing how they made your body move and shudder. Each little quick breath and shivering gasp reaching his ears and informing how he moved, Afton partly observing your body and the rest of his attention on the mechanical device on his arm. Surprised how well it was holding up under the exposure as you grew more slick with his careful attentions.

"Such a good job for me, and I haven't even started on how sweet you sound yet." Chuckling as he slipped a second digit to join the first, making you whine as you were stretched somewhat uncomfortably, though William barely paused to see if you were okay and willing to continue. Finding the slightly spongey spot of your g-spot and curling his fingers into it, making your knuckles go white as you gripped your bedsheets, legs shaking either side of his shoulders. Afton leaned in, his breath warm against your increasingly sensitive folds before he pressed his face in, attacking your swollen clit with kisses and little licks.

His name fell from your lips followed by a string a of curses as one hand moved to his head, holding onto him as he purposely made his piercings catch the bundle of nerves as he lapped at you like a man starved whilst he used your own work to stretch and touch you. Combined together, it didn't take long for the knot in your stomach to tighten beyond belief, fraying as he increased his pace and showed you exactly what experience and a tongue piercing produced.

"William!" You screamed, toes curling and legs shaking as your knees pressed together, trapping the man's head between your thighs as he continued to assault your orgasming body so delightfully. His fingers and palm becoming soaked in your arousal, feeling the dampness leaking through the thin foam and fabric, just as he wanted as he tasted your sweetness on his tongue, lapping at it eagerly as he finally withdrew his fingers. Gripping your hips with both hands as the lewd, wet sound of him cleaning your orgasm off of your body with his lips and tongue as his scruff lightly burned against the inside of your thighs turned your cheeks flushed again, panting and fingers tightening in his hair as he threatened to quickly tip you into over stimulation.

Finally after a few more shaking moans as your thighs tightened on his head and he felt your body spasming under him, leaving you unsure if you had been left with one long orgasm or smaller ones in the aftershock, he relented. Grinning up at you and making a show of licking your slick from his beard and face, your eyes hazy and unable to focus properly and William Afton felt that dark pride that he'd fucked you stupid already and he hadn't even done all that much to you.

He had many more plans for his little fan, after all.

Standing up, your gaze following obediently, you watched as he inspected the spring-lock hand, testing the movements before he slipped it off of his own hand. Smiling in the way that made your stomach flutter with pride as well as the butterflies of being so close to the man you idolised, still coming down from your high. When William grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and picked it up off of his body, revealing his broad chest and the dark hair that covered it, trailing down his toned stomach and disappearing into his waistband, though he was quickly making short work of his jeans, your eyes went wide. Seeing that the intricate bio-mechanical designs extended over his shoulder and onto one pec, flexing slightly as he caught you admiring him, his large hands shoved his jeans off of his hips and left him in his black boxers. Straining against the thin fabric as he crawled ontop of you.

Dexterous fingers made light work of your bra, throwing it off with a growl before his calloused hands groped your breasts, kneading them eagerly as his knees pressed between yours, forcing them apart so that you were entirely on display for him. Feeling his hungry gaze running down your body as you tried to not whimper and moan too loudly, though you gasped as he pinched a nipple and rolled it between his fingers, lip curled into a slight sneer.

"Poor bunny, anybody would think you're all fucked out when I did the work for you!" Sitting back on his heels for a moment and he pushed his boxers off of his body, your eyes widening as his thick, erect cock smacked against his stomach. Drooling precum already, his hand wrapped around it and his thumb played with the silver piercing at the tip, smearing his own arousal on his shaft as he looked at your shocked expression with smug satisfaction. "Never seen one of these before?"

"N-No sir." Swallowing softly as you heard him groan, biting at his labret again before he sat back on your bed, taking some of your pillows and stacking them behind his back. His lopsided, cocksure grin making you feel more flustered than any peer who'd shared your bed had. Patting his lap in an almost condescending fashion before beckoning you over with one thick finger.

"Good girl, now, get yourself over here. How about I show you how good this can feel when it's pressing into all those hard to reach places?" Watching you crawl over to him, growing impatient as he throbbed harder at the sight. Grabbing your upper arms hard enough to make you bruise and yelp as he dragged you over. Breathing deeply as he buried his nose into the crook of your neck, holding his cock in one hand and the other pressing into the small of your back and positioning you over his tip.

"I'm not a patient man sometimes, bunny, you'll have to get used to that whilst you work with me."

You opened your mouth to speak as your brow furrowed, wondering what on earth he was talking about before he slammed you onto his length, knocking the breath out of your lungs as your eyes rolled back. Body shaking as your mouth remained open in a silent scream, hearing him moan as he felt your walls flutter around him. The sudden intrusion hitting all the sensitive spots that had barely recovered from his previous intensity.

"Fuck...." You breathed, making him chuckle as he bit your shoulder, sucking at the skin until he sat back to admire the dark hickey against your skin and the red imprint of his teeth against you. Deciding he liked how you looked all marked up for him.

"Fuck is right, bunny! I'm going to fuck you back to being stupid," He purred, placing his hands behind his head as he looked at you, watching as you tried to blink your senses back into place. "But you're going to put in a little work for me first, how about showing me how pretty you look bouncing."

The trembling in your legs wasn't enough to stop you from following his wishes. Your hands resting on the older man's broad chest, feeling the coarse hair beneath your fingers as you slowly began to move yourself up and down his length, body trembling as the piercing touched and stroked inside you like you'd never felt before, combined with his stretch, you weren't sure how long you were going to last as he let out a contented growl. Grey eyes half-lidded as he kept his hands behind his head, letting you do all the work for him and reaping the pleasure from it.

William loved watching how your face subtly twitched and contorted as you focused on your movements, his words before he slammed into you clearly playing quietly in the back of your mind. Hissing your name softly as you clenched around him, knowing he probably wasn't going to last too long with how worked up you'd gotten him.

The thought that he'd get to see you working for him, in his workshop, available to fluster and praise and fuck as much as he liked. You'd already dedicated your career to him, and now you were proving to be anything but boring as you continued to take his length, moaning and whimpering as your thighs shook from the effort. Still weak from his fingers and tongue. He ran his tongue over his teeth, moving one hand only to run it through his hair and over his beard, watching you intently.

Your pace was good, but not enough, wrapping one hand around your hip and guiding you up and down his length and making sure to grind your hips at the bottom as he filled you to the hilt. The way you clenched around him and he throbbed at the feeling bringing you both closer to the edge. Afton releasing his head finally and grabbing your other hip, using his large hands to set the pace you were expected to keep for him. Rolling his hips in time with the thrusts and making you whimper as each one seemed to press into spots that made you want to see stars.

His pace picked up, chasing his own high with a growl and sitting up more, looking up at his pretty bunny bouncing on his cock. Grip tightening on your hips before one hand moved to the back of your head and pulled you to him, kissing you hungrily and sloppily. The sensation of his piercings pressing into your skin and mixing with your tongue again making you shiver, wrapping your arms around him as he laid back. Moaning into the kiss as his hips began to hammer up into you, setting a brutal pace that you definately wouldn't have been able to keep had you been expected to do it by yourself. Whining into his mouth as you felt a second orgasm approaching rapidly, clenching tighter and harder around William, who moaned into your mouth too. The kiss becoming sloppier and more desperate as he made sure that it was a race to finish, wanting to feel you cumming around his cock, leave you breathless and stupid in his arms as he reached his own peak.

It didn't take long for his wishes to be fufilled, a silent scream leaving your mouth as your back arched, clenching hard around him and practically pulling his cock deep inside you as he swore. Fighting against your velvet walls as he gave a few more brutal thrusts whilst you soaked his dick before pulling out, stroking himself and painting your lower back with his load. Swearing under his breath as he pressed his forehead to yours, holding you close as both of you were left breathing hard and heavy.

"I could definitely... get used to this." He breathed, laughing as he let his head fall back against your pillows, still holding onto you, needing a few moments to compose himself once again before he looked up at your shaking body, how you blinked as you tried to orient yourself and wincing as he realised he might have gone a little hard.

Carefully extracting himself from beneath you, he looked around and found some tissues on your bedside, reaching over to grab them with a grunt and cradling you against his broad chest as he cleaned himself off of your back. Planting soft kisses against your shoulders before he chucked the tissues off into your room, rolling you over and laying you down onto your side. Standing up for a moment before he pulled the comforter on your bed over your body, knowing that you'd feel cold any moment now that everything had slowed down.

Climbing in next to you, his arms wrapped around you, kissing the top of your head and stroking between your shoulders and upper back as your body began to tremble.

"William..." You breathed, finally able to find words again as he planted another soft kiss to your head. Smiling softly against your hair as he closed his eyes for a moment.

"I'm here bunny, you did such a good job." Reassuring you as you felt like the world stopped spinning after a few moments, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his chest.

"Did...did you say I would be working with you?" You asked after a moment, hearing an embaressed chuckle running through the large man as another soft kiss was given freely and you looked up at him, seeing a sheepish smile on his face.

"That was quite bad of me, I decided your work was solid, so I wanted to offer you a job... Gotta remember to only take you on only one emotional rollercoaster at a time."

"You...You really do.. I..."

"Hush bunny, you're alright. We can discuss it when you wake up, but you should try and get some sleep." He suggested, and the way your body felt so heavy didn't beg an argument. Letting your eyes close and keeping your head pressed to his chest, his chin resting ontop of your head and stroking down your back as exhaustion started to take you.

Secretly, you were glad you'd decided to take snacks from the table. Who knew that you were going to find employment and a lover all wrapped into one tattooed, pierced package?

[aces-personal-whore]

Doflamingo x Defiant!Reader Smut Ch. 3

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Welcome back y'all. What's poppin? Chapter 3 is finally here, and it's a little different from the last few chapters, this time focusing on somnopilia (taking advantage of someone who is asleep [although the literal definition is to be aroused by someone who is asleep, but that's not exactly what's going on here]). There isn't very much dialogue because of that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

☣️WARNINGS: NONCON/RAPE, dubcon, NSFW, MDNI, smut, sexual assault, abuse, violence, aggression

Themes in this chapter: NONCON/RAPE, dubcon, forced submission, forced creampie, breeding, inflation, slight degradation and humiliation, manipulation, somnophilia, false affection.

Notes: PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT THERE IS NONCON/RAPE THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE FANFICTION. THIS FANFICTION IS VERY GRAPHIC AND MAY BE TRIGGERING, UPSETTING, OR DISTRESSING TO SOME READERS. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!!

P.S. I'm sorry if I forgot to change any pronouns/names/etc. ;-; I'm still trying, aight. I do update these after I've reread them and gone through them a couple times, but there may still be some things I miss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Chapter 3]

Doflamingo picked you up off the bed and held you, the blood from your welts was a stark reminder of what he was capable of, and a warning of what was yet to come. You shook with anxiety in his arms, the trauma settling in. "Remember," he began, his voice soft and gentle, "there is no escape from me. This is your new life now. You're mine to do with as I please. Now that I've broken you, even if it may be in the slightest bit, it's time to build you back up to the person I want you to be." Your submission was a necessity, a requirement for your continued existence under his rule.

Carrying you to the bathroom, Doflamingo started a bath, the steam rising, the water bubbling. As he lowered you into the bath, the warm water enveloping your battered body, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope, a distant, faint whisper that perhaps, one day, you'd find a way to escape his twisted, sadistic grasp.

Doflamingo stepped into the bath with you, his presence looming, dominating the small space. The water rippled around you both, a stark contrast to the tension that filled the air.

Your mind raced with thoughts of 'what ifs', a constant, nagging fear that he would try to drown you, to end your life in this very moment. The idea filled you with a deep, primal terror, a fear that gripped your heart and squeezed, making it hard to breathe.

But in the back of your mind, a small, rational voice whispered, "he won't kill me. Not now, not when he needs me, when your body was a vessel for his twisted desires and his future offspring."

The thought of death, of the sweet release it would bring, was tempting, a siren's call, promising an escape from the pain, the humiliation, and the constant fear. But you knew, deep down, that death would not come easily, that Doflamingo would not grant you such a mercy.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Doflamingo's hand reached out, his fingers trailing along your arm, a touch that was both gentle and threatening, a reminder of the power he held over you.

"Shh, no more thoughts of escaping, my dear." His voice was a low, menacing purr, a snake's hiss, full of venom and promise. "You're mine now, and mine you shall remain."

The words were a brand, a mark of ownership, a seal of your fate. You were his, body and soul, a plaything for his twisted desires, a slave to his unyielding, sadistic rule.

As he pulled you close, your body pressed against his, the water lapping at your skin, you knew that this was your life now, a never-ending cycle of pain and pleasure, of submission and degradation, of a love that was anything but loving, anything but pure.

You sighed, a resigned acceptance of your fate, and simply let Doflamingo do whatever he wanted. Your body continued to shake, a physical manifestation of your fear and trauma, but your eyes were dry, the tears spent, a well of sadness that had run dry.

In the very darkest corners of your mind, a tiny, insidious thought began to take shape. Arousal, a desire for this twisted fantasy to continue, a part of you that reveled in the humiliation, the degradation, the pain. It was a voice that whispered promises of pleasure, of submission, of a perverse, masochistic love that twisted your body into knots of yearning.

But you knew better than to give it any attention. You refused to accept it, to let it grow, to let it become a part of you. This was Doflamingo's doing, the result of his sadistic pleasure, not a part of you that he had awakened.

As Doflamingo's hands roamed your body, his touch a mixture of gentle care and brutal ownership, you couldn't help but feel your body respond, your nipples hardening beneath his fingers, your skin flushing with arousal, betraying your mind's rejection.

Your body was a battleground, a constant struggle between mind and flesh, between the woman you were and the creature Doflamingo was molding you into, and whether your mind accepted it or not, your body was already beginning to embrace its new role, a submissive, willing vessel for his twisted desires, a part of you that craved the pain, the pleasure, the attention, the violation that he offered.

Doflamingo's fingers traced patterns on your skin, a promise of more to come, a reminder that you were nothing more than a plaything in his hands, a pawn in his grand game, a slave to his will.

Doflamingo's grabbed some soap and gently began cleansing your skin, the soap creating a lather, washing away the blood, dirt, and sweat. But as he cleaned your welts, you couldn't help but cry out in pain, your body arching, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

"Shh, my dear, the pain is necessary. It reminds you of your place, of who you belong to." Doflamingo's voice was a soothing whisper, a cruel lullaby, his words a balm to your battered soul.

His hands continued their ministrations, his fingers exploring every inch of your body, tracing the curves, the dips, the planes of your flesh. "Your skin is so soft, so delicate. It's like the finest silk, waiting to be torn, to be marked, to be claimed." His fingers traced the line of your collarbone, dipped into your cleavage, teasing your nipples into hardness.

"And these breasts, so full, so perfect. They were made to be worshipped, used, and abused." His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them roughly, his thumbs circling your nipples, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through your body.

Your mind began to dissociate once again, a desperate attempt to escape the present, to flee the horror that was your reality. But the memory of what happened last time brought you crashing back to consciousness, a sharp reminder that your escape had been short-lived, that there was no escape from Doflamingo's insidious grasp.

He finished cleaning you, rinsing off the soap, the water running clear. He lifted you both out of the tub, the water draining away, the evidence of his cruelty and your suffering disappearing down the drain, only to be replaced by a new, more twisted chapter in your story.

Back in your room, the sheets changed, he placed you on the bed. The exhaustion that engulfed you was a suffocating blanket, a weight that threatened to crush you under its oppressive force.

Your mind and body were spent, your will broken, and all you wanted was to sleep, to escape into the dreamless void of unconsciousness, to forget, if only for a moment, the reality of your new life.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his body close to yours, his fingers trailing along your arm, a whisper of a touch that still held the weight of his dominance, the promise of more to come.

"Sleep, my dear." His voice was a soft command, a directive that you couldn't refuse, a demand that you obey. "Tomorrow, we start your new life."

A new life, a life you never asked for, a life that was a constant struggle between your mind and your body, between what you wanted and what you needed, between what you were and what Doflamingo was forging you into.

And as you closed your eyes, as your body succumbed to the sweet oblivion of sleep, you knew that when you awoke, you would be different, a part of you having died, a part of Doflamingo's creation reborn, ready to serve his twisted desires, ready to embrace your role as his submissive, willing pawn, in his grand game of power and control.

As you drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you, Doflamingo watched over you, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. In the dim light of the room, his gaze was intense, a predator watching its prey, a possessor admiring his new possession.

But as the minutes ticked by, and your breathing evened out, Doflamingo felt a weariness of his own, a fatigue that he couldn't shake.

With a sigh, he reached up and removed his sunglasses, setting them carefully on the nightstand next to the bed. He crawled into bed next to you, his body wrapping around yours, his arms pulling you close against his chest. The warmth of his skin was a stark contrast to the coldness of his heart, a reminder that his affection was nothing more than a means to an end, a tool to keep you compliant, to break you further.

As he held you, his eyes drifted closed, his own exhaustion overtaking him. In sleep, his grip on you loosened, his hold on your body and your mind relaxed, if only for a moment. But even in sleep, you could feel his presence, the weight of his body against yours, the heat of his skin, the scent of his cologne.

As you slept, your mind tried to process the events of the day, the horror of your new reality, the fear of what the future held. But sleep was a merciful release, a momentary escape from the pain, the fear, the despair that consumed your waking hours.

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

Doflamingo stirred awake in the dead of night, his eyes snapping open, his senses immediately attuned to his surroundings. A glance at the clock revealed the time - 3:23 AM.

His hand, still wrapped around you, slid lower, his fingers caressing the swell of your abdomen. The feel of your flesh beneath his touch, the knowledge that he had put it there, that he had claimed you, filled him with a sense of primal satisfaction, a dark arousal that coursed through his veins.

His fingers traced the curves of your body, mapping the landscape of your flesh. He could feel the heat emanating from your skin, the softness of your curves, the way your body yielded to his touch, even in sleep.

His arousal grew, pressing against your ass, a physical manifestation of his desire, his need. He wanted you, needed you; he craved the feeling of your body beneath his and the sounds of your cries.

A low, dark chuckle escaped his lips as he realized that your body was his to command, to use as he saw fit, regardless of your mental state. It was a power that intoxicated him, a control that he relished, a dominance that he would never relinquish.

His fingers found your clit, the sensitive nub already swollen with arousal, begging for his touch. He circled it, teased it, his touch feather-light, a tantalizing promise of pleasure to come.

His fingers slid through your slick folds, feeling the heat, tightness, and readiness of your body. He couldn't resist the urge to plunge a finger inside, to feel your walls clench around him.

Your body responded eagerly, your hips bucking, your legs parting, inviting him in, even as your mind remained lost in the depths of sleep. It was a sight that filled Doflamingo with a dark, twisted arousal. His fingers pumped in and out, curling to hit that sensitive spot deep within, coaxing your body to new heights of pleasure, even as your mind remained blissfully unaware.

When he could resist no longer, he removed his fingers and flipped you onto your back, positioning himself between your legs. He could feel the heat of your core, the slickness of your arousal, the invitation of your body.

With a swift thrust, he entered you, his member sliding into your tight, wet cunt, a groan of pleasure escaping his lips at the exquisite sensation. He began to move, his hips rocking, his cock sliding in and out, driven by the primal urge to claim, conquer, and possess.

Doflamingo continued his slow, deliberate thrusts, savoring the exquisite feeling of your body, the way it clenched around him, the way it begged for more with each movement, your unconscious moans of pleasure echoing softly in the night. He was in no hurry, content to revel in the moment, to absorb the sensation, to bask in your unconscious submission.

His hands roamed your body, exploring, claiming, as his hips rocked. Each thrust was a statement, a declaration of ownership, a physical manifestation of the power he held over you.

As he moved, his breathing grew heavier, his pace increasing ever so slightly, driven by the insatiable hunger that burned within him. He wanted to claim every inch of you, to fill you with his presence, to leave his mark on your body, to make you his in the most primal, animalistic way possible.

His fingers found your clit once more, his thumb circling it, applying just the right amount of pressure to tease you, to build you towards the edge, to coax your body further into submission.

Doflamingo's fingers danced across your abdomen, undoing the strings around your cervix, your body responded with a surge of pleasure, your orgasm drawing nearer with each passing moment. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of your tight, wet cunt, combined with the delicious pressure on your clit, was too much to bear.

Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in deeper, as your body quivered and shook, a cascade of pleasure washing over you. With a piercing moan of pleasure, your fluids gushed out, soaking him, coating him in the evidence of your ecstasy.

Doflamingo's hips continued their relentless rhythm, his cock throbbing inside you, his own release building with each thrust. "I love using you, knowing that your body is mine, that I can take you whenever I want, however I want. And look at you now, cumming for me, even in your sleep. Your cunt knows what it wants."

Doflamingo felt his own climax building, the pressure in his balls growing, his cock twitching and pulsing inside you. With one final thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could, his glans wedged against your cervix, as he erupted, his seed pouring into your waiting womb, filling you, claiming you.

His testicles, heavy and swollen, churned out more of his essence, each pulse of his cock sending another wave of his potent seed into your depths. Your body, already swollen with his previous offerings, began to expand further, your stomach growing taut, a tangible testament to the power he held over you, the control he exerted over your very existence.

Doflamingo's thick, veiny cock, slick with your juices, buried deep inside your tight, wet cunt, his heavy balls pressed against your ass, your pussy stretched and filled to the brim, your stomach swelling with his essence. It was a picture of complete dominance, a physical manifestation of the power he held over you, the control he exerted over your body, your mind, your very soul.

In this moment, as you lay beneath him, your body a vessel for his pleasure, your mind lost in the depths of sleep, Doflamingo knew that he had found his perfect plaything, a woman who would be his, always, in every way, a possession to be used and enjoyed, a pawn in his twisted game of power and domination. He collapsed on top of you, his body spent, his seed still leaking from the tip of his cock into your depths.

Doflamingo's glans slipped from your cervix, the connection between your bodies severed, but the effects of his actions lingered. With a satisfied sigh, he began to sew your cervix back together, his strings weaving through your flesh, knotting and securing it shut. He finished securing your cervix with a final tug and rolled off of you, his spent body collapsing onto the bed beside you.

Your body, exhausted from the day's events, remained lost in the depths of sleep, your mind unable to process the horror, the pleasure, the twisted mix of emotions that coursed through your veins. You were utterly spent, drained of the energy needed to resist, to fight, to escape the dark reality that had become your new life.

But for now, in the stillness of the night, he could revel in his victory, in the knowledge that he had claimed you, that he had made you his, that he would forever hold the key to your pleasure, your pain, your very existence. And as he drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped possessively around your body, he knew that tomorrow would bring fresh horrors, fresh delights, fresh opportunities to solidify his control, to cement his dominance, to ensure that you would be his, always, in every way, a possession, a plaything, a pawn in his twisted game of power and domination.

[flightlessangelwings]

My Favorite Bartender

bartender!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), no powers au, bartender Peter, lounge band performer reader (I left it vague so you can imagine singer or plays an instrument), mutual pining, flirting, fluff, romance, drinking, praise, bar isn't described so you can imagine any type, background reader x Flash but I just used him in name only cause I needed an ex, no use of y/n

Notes- Starting my Year of AUs with an idea I've had in my head for over a year! It took me a while to come up with more than just vibes for this but I'm happy with how this turned out! Inspired by the gif below. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up of date on when I post new things!

~

A smooth melody floated through the air as Peter shook the mixer in his hands. The clinking of the ice added to the music as if they were meant to be played together, and Peter smiled at the patron as he put on a little show. The woman who sat at the bar gave him a flirtatious grin in return as she watched him pour her drink into a glass. 

“One Manhattan for the lady,” he said smoothly. 

“Thank you, handsome,” she winked and gave Peter an extra tip… and her number on a napkin before she walked away, glancing over her shoulder one last time before she rejoined her friends. 

Peter smirked before he tactfully slid the napkin out of sight, never to touch it again.

He never expected his life would turn out this way. Peter Parker had always worked hard and excelled in school. He found his way with the help of a scholarship to a top college to study more of the science that he loved so much. And from there, he got into a grad school where he perfected his craft and applied for research grants. However, life came crashing down around him when he didn’t get it and all over work opportunities fell one by one like dominoes. It was a hard time for Peter, and it took him some time to climb out of his hole again.

Following his Aunt May’s advice, Peter learned a new craft to earn some money while he figured his life out. And that was how he ended up bartending… for the last few years. The money was decent, and after some disasters with spilling drinks and shattering glasses, Peter became quite skilled at it. He and May exchanged stories about their work often too, and her words always provided comfort for him.

“You’re not a failure just because you didn’t end up where you thought you would, Peter,” May told him on several occasions, “I love you and I’m proud of you.”

“I love you too, May,” Peter would reply meekly. 

But what really kept Peter tethered to the bar was you. You had started about a year after Peter did, and he was captivated with you from the moment he first saw you. Swallowing his nerves, he mustered up the courage to say hello and introduce himself. When you gave him your name and said you were there to audition for the house band, Peter’s heart fluttered in his chest.

“Here,” he slid a glass of sparkling water your way, “On the house,” he winked as he hoped he hid how flustered he actually felt.

“Thanks,” you raised your glass in a cheer and drank before you went and nailed your audition. 

Peter loved to watch you perform several nights a week. And he felt lucky that he got a prime seat for the show. At times, he almost forgot about the customers who were waiting for drinks when you were on stage. And as you swayed to the music that filled the room, Peter would sometimes drop his glass as he [aid more attention to you than what was in his hands. 

Over the months, the two of you even started to become friends, talking occasionally whenever you came to the bar for some water or whenever you both saw each other in the break room.

However close you seemed to Peter, though, you were just out of reach. He remembered the day a man came to watch you, seated right up front the entire time you were on stage with the band. Peter’s instincts told him who he was, but his heart still dropped when you introduced him as your boyfriend. 

“Peter, this is Flash,” you introduced him as you hung on his arm.

It took everything within him to not let the heartbreak show on his face, and Peter extended his hand with a taut smile, “Pleasure,” his words held no genuine emotion.

“That’s a strong grip, Pete,” Flash responded, shaking his hand, “Good thing you’re here to watch over my baby at work,” he continued, telling Peter about how much you’ve spoken about him.

As Flash rambled on, Peter’s eyes drifted to meet yours where he noticed your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. He wondered why that was, but he also decided to interrupt your boyfriend with, “How about a drink for the happy couple? On the house,” he raised his mixer and a glass with his trademark smile on his face.

You breathed in relief, “I’d love one.”

Watching as Peter spun a glass in his hand and poured from a liquor bottle from the other, you were captivated. You loved to watch him mix drinks as he put on almost as much of a show as you did when you performed. Peter lifted the liquor bottle up, allowing the liquid to frame his shoulders like a rainbow before he lowered it back down. A perfect pour. Peter then covered the mixing bottle and shook it diligently, smirking at you while he did so. The look on his face made your heart flutter- something Flash hadn’t been able to accomplish in a very long time.

The truth was you were enamored with Peter. From the moment you met on your audition day, you felt a spark unlike anything you had ever felt before. His kind way, his handsome smile, the way his hands nimbly worked the glasses along the bar, it all made your skin tingle and your face warm. You couldn’t say anything, though. You were still with Flash, more out of comfort and convenience than true love at this point. So, you just enjoyed the time you spent with Peter at work, burying your feelings deep down every day. 

As Peter poured the two glasses and slid them towards the two of you, you couldn’t help but grin widely at him. Next to you, Flash was oblivious as his eyes never left the drinks.

“My compliments to the chef,” he raised his glass towards Peter, who gave him a weak smile in return, “Thanks, man.”

“Thanks, Peter,” you agreed as you took a sip, “It’s delicious.” It was just the drink you needed at the moment, and you wondered how Peter knew. 

“Later,” Flash guided you away from the bar to mingle.

Looking over your shoulder one last time, you and Peter locked eyes and your heart fluttered in your chest. Peter kept the fake smile on his face until you were out of sight, and he felt his entire self slump down in disappointment. His heart ached in his chest as Flash put his hands all over you, treating you more like a possession than a person. But, he knew it wasn’t his place to say anything, and he didn’t want to complicate anything by telling you how he really felt. So, Peter took a deep breath and donned the mask once more as he was flagged down by a fresh wave of patrons at the bar.

*

Even though Peter couldn’t call you his, he could still enjoy the time he spent with you. And he found that the bar always felt brighter whenever you were there. Whenever your eyes met his, he couldn’t help but smile, and there were times where the flutter in his chest almost felt like a heart attack. Peter would take any time with you he could get, and he truly valued the growing friendship between the two of you. 

Every night before you took the stage with the rest of the band, you always stopped by the bar and got a sparkling water from Peter. “My favorite bartender,” you would always say as you tripped your glass towards the identical one he held.

“It’s bad luck to drink alone,” Peter would quip with a mischievous smirk as he poured himself his own glass. He cheered it with your own and together the two of you would drink in unison. From the first night he did that, it became a tradition for the two of you, and something you both secretly looked forward to.

One night, the bar was unusually slow, and there weren’t many customers inside. The band took a break from performing, not wanting to waste the energy, and you went right to the bar. “How about something a little stronger than sparkling water, tonight?” you couldn’t help the subtly flirtatious tone in your voice.

“You sure about that?” Peter replied with his own coy tease in his tone.

“I’m positive,” you shimmied your shoulders.

“Alright, you asked for it,” Peter smirked back as he mixed something new for you. It was a beautiful color, and another perfect pour. Peter was just glad he didn’t drop a glass every time he glanced in your direction as you watched him intensely.

“To a slow night,” you raised your glass to him.

“To a slow night,” Peter agreed as he clinked the glass he poured himself with yours and you both drank.

As the hours passed, you and Peter continued to talk and drink at the bar until the last customer left. The manager decided to close early since it was so quiet, and the two of you stumbled towards the back to gather your things. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter as you lost your footing for a moment, but Peter was right there to catch you.

“You alright?” he asked in a soft voice.

Looking into his eyes, you felt time stop for a moment. Everything else faded away, and all you could think about was Peter. His arms wrapped around you, his soft eyes looked deep into yours, and his lips looked so… kissable. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in closer. Your eyes started to flutter shut as your lips ghosted over his. Feeling his breath against your skin was like a jolt of electricity to your entire system.

Peter breathed your name as he made no attempt to stop you, as much as he knew he should. It was the moment he had wanted for so long, and it was right in front of him. The alcohol buzzed in his system, clouding his judgment slightly, though he knew neither of you had enough to be fully drunk. You knew what you were doing, your inhibitions were just down at the moment.

Just before your lips were about to touch, though, something snapped in you and you gasped as you jumped back. “I…” you cleared your throat, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that,” you stammered as you closed in on yourself.

“It’s ok,” Peter rested his hands on your shoulders, “Hey, look at me,” he waited for you to meet his gaze before he continued, “You’re ok. We’re ok.” Conflicting emotions ran through his head- Peter wanted to kiss you more than anything, but he also didn’t want you to regret kissing him. So, he pushed his own wants aside and looked after you instead, like he always did.

Somehow, you knew what Peter meant with just those words, “We’re ok,” you echoed.

Peter proved it the next night when you both came back to work. He poured you a sparkling water and one for himself, cheering you as if nothing happened the night before. You wanted to apologize again, but something in you said that he knew. And everything fell back into your usual routine again.

*

But everything changed the night Peter found you in the back, alone and crying as the bar was closing down.

Immediately, he went on alert and was ready to help you no matter what. He gasped softly as he rushed over to you and sat next to you, “Hey, hey,” he cooed softly, “What’s going on? Are you alright?” Peter hated seeing you like this.

You looked up from where you held your face in your hands, and the sad look in your eyes made Peter’s chest tighten. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be crying at work…”

“Hey,” Peter pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “I won’t judge,” he tried to make you smile.

It worked, and you gave him the brief hint of a laugh before your face dropped again, “It’s over with Flash,” you confessed, “He…” you choked back a sob, “I caught him with someone else yesterday.”

Anger flashed across Peter’s face as he tightened his grip on you and murmured your name, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. You deserve better than this… Than him…

A few more tears fell from your eyes, but you stubbornly tried to hold more back, “I shouldn’t even be that upset,” you almost sounded bitter, “Considering I almost kissed you the other day,” your voice was so hushed you weren’t sure if Peter even heard you. 

“Hey you did nothing wrong,” Peter cupped your face, “Nothing happened, and it was my fault anyway…” 

You looked into his eyes and the world stopped around you. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. All you cared about was him, and the warmth of his hands. Truthfully, you hadn’t felt the same about Flash in a long time, but you stayed with him more out of comfort than anything. At the same time, though, being cheated on definitely hurt you to your core.

“Pete…” you breathed as the whirlwind of emotions made your head spin. Before you could stop yourself, you felt your body leaning more toward him as your eyes glanced down at his lips.

Peter whispered your name as he brushed your cheek with his thumb. Everything in him told him to push you away, that you were too vulnerable right now. But, he wanted this more than anything. He wanted you. He wanted to kiss your problems away and make you feel safe. He wanted to make sure you were never hurt again, since he would never do anything to hurt you. And as Peter felt your breath against his skin, he found that he was about to give into his selfishness for once in his life.

But, before your lips connected, the door slammed open and Flash, your now ex, bellowed your name. “What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed at you as he stomped over, “We didn’t even officially break up and here you are about to fuck your coworker?!”

“You cheated,” Peter interjected before you could reply, “I’d say that’s pretty broken up to me,” he stood strong as he placed his body between yours and your ex. 

Flash puffed up his chest and balled his hands into fists as he approached Peter, “You think you’re tough now, nerd?” he scoffed, “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Peter replied, holding strong, “But I’m not gonna let you do anything to…” he trailed off as he felt your presence behind him. Peter could feel you start to say something, perhaps try to talk him out of putting himself in harm’s way for you, but Peter didn’t care about his own safety. He only cared about yours. 

“How cute,” Flash sneered as he shoved Peter back, making you both stumble.

Not wanting things to escalate further, you called for security, who rushed in and quickly escorted Flash out. Peter stayed in front of you, blocking the view of your ex, who was cursing and hollering as he was dragged out. You knew you heard some insults thrown at you in between the obscenities, and you couldn’t help but wince.

“Hey,” Peter turned to you once the room was clear, “You alright?” he asked as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I uhh,” you stuttered, unsure of what to even say. Taking a deep breath, you relaxed your tense muscles, “I think so,” you finally replied in a soft voice as your eyes dropped to the ground.

“Listen,” he tried to keep his own tone even for your sake, “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight? He can’t find you there and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Your gaze snapped back up to meet Peter’s and the breath in your chest felt like it was pushed out of you. “Are… Are you sure?” you struggled to find your voice again, “I won’t want to put you out or anything…”

“You aren’t,” Peter cut you off before you could finish the thought, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

*

“Home sweet home,” Peter gestured to the small apartment with an awkward grin on his face, “It’s not much but… It’s home,” he shuffled in, closing the door behind you both and locking it tightly, “What’s mine is yours. Help yourself to anything.”

You stood in the doorway taking in the space. Peter lived in a little studio apartment. It was older, but you could tell he put a lot of care into the space. The tiny kitchen had snacks all over the counter. On the other end, there was a small desk against the window next to a little tv and refurbished couch. The bed was in the far corner next to the door to the tiny bathroom.

“Aunt May must have dropped off some things,” Peter rushed to the kitchen counters and shuffled the snacks into drawers clumsily as he chuckled, “I actually try to keep the place neat, if you could believe that.”

For the first time that night, a smile lit up your face, “It’s fine, Peter,” you stepped further into the studio and sat down on the small couch, “It’s a nice place.”

“Hey,” he crossed the room and sat down next to you, taking your hand in his, “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.”

Your eyes landed on where his warm hand held yours, and once more you felt the breath knocked out of you. It felt as if a jolt of electricity ran up from where your hands were connected to your heart, making it skip a beat. Meeting his gaze again, you spoke in a more confident tone, “Thank you.”

Peter smiled back at you, “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” his tone was soft as he squeezed your hand in his.

“Peter…” you breathed as you felt yourself leaning toward him as if gravity was pulling you closer, “Call me that again? Please.”

He exhaled sharply, the smile still lighting up his face as he leaned in too, “Sweetheart…” Peter cupped your face tenderly like he did before back at the club. As he felt your breath against his face once again, Peter murmured, “Can I kiss you… sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whispered before your lips were pressed against his. 

The kiss was soft and sweet, yet it sent a jolt through both of you. Months of buildup led to this moment as you both melted into the other. Heat quickly rose in the room as you started to cling to Peter, running your hands all over his body. Peter groaned into you as he did the same and soon the kiss turned more deep, more passionate, more desperate.

You broke away from Peter, breathing heavily as you looked into his eyes. You saw the same look on his face that you knew you had on yours- the same neediness was apparent on his face. As your eyes wandered across his body, glancing down between his legs for the briefest moment, Peter murmured your name.

Meeting his gaze again, you knew the question on the tip of his tongue, “Yes,” you breathed as you jumped on him.

This time, you parted your lips for Peter immediately, and you moaned into him as you tasted him on your tongue. Passions rose as the two of you clumsily pushed yourself off the couch and made your way over to his bed, never breaking apart for long.

Something crashed as you bumped into it, but you didn’t care. And neither did Peter, who completely ignored it. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment other than you. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and his wandering hands started to tug at your clothes while he shuffled your bodies over to his bed.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you felt his desperation, and you mirrored his actions by clawing at his shirt. The two of you only broke away from the kiss to remove clothing, not wanting to miss a second of the other. A trail of clothes led the way to Peter’s bed, and once your legs hit the corner, he grabbed you and flopped you both down.

Laughter erupted as you landed side by side on his small bed. Peter paused for a moment to cup your face, cradling it tenderly in his hand for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed before he kissed you again, maneuvering you so that he straddled you.

“Peter…”

“Do you need me to stop?” he asked, freezing in place.

“Never,” you smiled as you grabbed him and yanked him down, crashing your lips into his once more.

Peter’s laughter was muffled in your lips, but he also couldn’t help but buck his hips against yours. His cock, already hardening, rocked along your body, causing you both to gasp into the other.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes… Please, Peter,” you begged in between kisses as you rocked yourself against his body to match his rhythm.

“I can’t say no to you, sweetheart,” he smirked as he dripped his hand between your legs, “Fuck,” he breathed as he cradled your body, carefully pushing a finger into you slowly.

The moan you let out went right to Peter’s core, and he groaned as he pumped his finger in and out a few times before adding a second, “Sweetheart,” he sighed, “You’re so beautiful like this,” he stammered as he sped up his thrusts with his fingers, “I’ve thought about this for so long,” he couldn’t help but confess.

Your eyes blinked open, “Me too,” you felt the heat build under your skin and your nerves burst into flames at your own confession.

“Well let’s make it worth it then,” Peter’s signature smirk lit up his face again as he pulled his fingers out and positioned himself at your entrance.

“I know you will,” you replied breathlessly, “Don’t make me wait another second, Peter. I need you too bad.”

All he could do was moan in reply as he pushed himself into you. Gasps and moans filled the room as Peter filled you, connecting your bodies together for the first time. The bed creaked as he started a slow and steady rhythm, rocking in and out of you to the tune of your cries of pleasure.

Brown locks of hair fell in front of Peter’s face as he fought to keep himself hovering over you, not wanting to miss a single expression on your face. But every time he thrust fully into you, Peter lost himself in how good you felt. He breathed your name as his hips stammered, “You feel so good, sweetheart,” he groaned.

“You’re amazing, Peter,” you breathed, “Fuck…”

Emotions ran high between the two of you as skin slapped against skin. Peter picked up his pace and lost control of himself. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as he felt himself engulfed by you over and over again. Fuck, you looked perfect underneath him like this, and Peter hoped that he could see this sight over and over again.

“Peter… Right there!” you cried out when he changed his angle slightly, “Fuck Peter you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Let me see it, sweetheart,” he cooed as he intentionally hit that spot inside you over and over again, feeling your inner muscles squeeze his cock every time he did so. 

It only took a few more thrusts for you to fall apart underneath Peter, crying out his name and clinging to him tightly as you did so. Your eyes snapped shut as your mouth hung open, letting the screams and moans spill without inhibition. Your body trembled as the emotions caught up to you, and as you rode out your climax, tears started to fall from the corners of your eyes.

Peter groaned your name as he watched the display in front of him, and the emotions became too much for him too. He came without warning, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he moaned your name and spilled himself deep inside you. Peter thrusted a few more times until he had nothing else to give, and when he couldn’t hold himself up any longer, he flopped down on top of you with an exhausted huff. 

Once more, giggles erupted between you and Peter as you felt the warmth and weight of his body overtop of yours. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked in a soft tone as he cradled your face.

“Never better,” you replied.

Peter smiled at you as he slowly closed the gap between your faces, placing a soft yet heartfelt kiss on your lips as he pulled out of you. He swallowed the moan you let out, and he kept your body close to his as he made yourselves comfortable on his bed. Peter cradles you safe and secure in his arms, savoring the feeling of your warmth. It felt like a dream, but if it was, Peter didn’t want to wake up from it. And he certainly never wanted to let you go ever again.

“Just rest tonight,” Peter murmured to you, kissing the side of your head, “We’ll get your stuff from Flash’s tomorrow. I won’t leave your side, I promise.”

You just hummed contently, comfortable in his arms.

“You need anything? A snack? A drink?” he asked.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, and with a smirk you replied, “How about I make you a drink this time?” your tone dropped.

Peter’s own grin beamed back at you, “I would love to see that.” 

[britt-kageryuu]

Donnie and Leo are streaming together, but Leo is playing the game. Their masks with lightly glowing stars, models are in matching starry hoodies, black legging shorts that showed off their leg marking, and leg wraps/socks.

Leo is replaying Skyrim w/DLC,(not the new update) but without any mods. Because there was an issue with something in their modded game, and Donnie couldn't tell if it was a mod, or a base game w/DLC. They bought a version of the game that had the DLC pre installed into the game, and they already know base game is held together with ductape and the Will of the Devine Beings.

Leo was messing with the character customization, "All these options, but the only thing I can make Blue is my Eyes! I miss the Terrapin mod already. Well can't do much more, now what do I name my Argonian?" Leo rambles on engaging with chat while Donnie is looking over the active running code in real time with his laptop.

"Let's Go, Lord Scaly Butt! On through the tutorials, then the place we keep crashing!" Leo shouts almost knocking Donnie over with his enthusiasm.

~~~~A bit of relearning the basics and 1 dead dragon later~~~~

Once they finished with the beginning quests, bought the Whiterun house to drop off the dragon parts, and returned the Golden Claw, Leo started to mess with simple tasks that quickly raise your levels.

"Alright Dee, what requirements are needed to replicate this crash scenario? Also this took over an hour! Did the game always take this long in the beginning?" Leo is once again rambling, looking back and forth between chat and Donnie.

This is causing the audience to wonder what kind of energy drinks or something he had, or what might've been added to his tea/coffee today.

Donnie in the mean time is reading over a list, ignoring his twin while scrolling, "The build according to your last save, you had the light dragon armor, not enchanted, you had finished this list of quest," they lean over to show Leo the list, "and as you can see, a long list of negligible variables that I have already tested out of possible crach sources. And while this may take a long time, I will try to keep you on track."

Leo's eyes go wide at the list as he reads it over, "How long have I been playing on that save! How long is this going to take!?!" He says slowly getting loader.

Donnie just leans away, "Give me a moment, I forgot to cull the quests that are not important to this process." They show the new list, "It might take a few dozen hours, it might not. You will need to fast travel occasionally to the crash point to help narrow down the possible source."

Leo stares at Donnie for a moment thinking over what he just said.

"But wouldn't that also mess up the results, since it might've been a combo of more things, not less?"

Donnie pauses, turns to Leo, then back at his laptop.

"Dee, how long have you been awake?" Leo asks with a look of disappointment.

Donnie was about to make their argument, but then let out a loud, long yawn. They shake their head before looking a bit panicked, "Wait, I'm fine, I've stayed up for longer, plus don't you want to replay Skyrim? And explore, fight dragons, try to complete those glitched quests?!" Donnie rambles, trying to justify his tiredness.

Leo still looked at him with suspicion, but goes back to the game. He is very much not convinced. He just knows is he fights Donnie on this, he might get bit.

The audience is making some jokes about Leo stealing Donnies energy, some are trying to justify Donnies argument, and some kinda want to see Leo force Donnie to go take a nap.

Leo continues to play, chatting with the audience, meanwhile Donnie at some point passed out, and started to let out snores, chuurs, a hiss or two, and some slight growls.

Either way the audience was enjoying themselves.

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

Masterpost

This was originally just an them replaying without mods, then I remembered how Stupidly Long the beginning of Skyrim is, then I remembered that the Skyrim background music makes me sleepy, thus we end up with the above.

I could not stick to my original plan since I was also replaying the beginning of Skyrim.