#idk who’s giving these to him but shuddup

[dailyweeklybenposting]

Happy Valentine’s Day!! Holiday appropriate post!

[spinecouture]

nsfw alphabet — daryl dixon

a/n: all canon events cus i say so! very opinionated. yes, i am insane.

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

daryl isn’t exactly warm and cuddly. aftercare doesn’t come naturally to him. the first time you have sex, and you latch onto his arm, he sort of just freezes. he’s never had anyone who wanted to snuggle with him. he lets you, but he doesn’t really reciprocate. he’d do anything if you asked, sure, but it’s a process.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves your hips. little waist, hip dips, chunky thighs, tummy. it’s primal—he loves the little V pointing him directly to your cunt. an ass man, too, definitely. if your shorts ride up, oh, he’s melting.

he really doesn’t think about his own body a lot, but he knows he’s got nice arms. thick, muscly biceps, he loves the way you cling to them whenever you can. he likes being able to pick you up at a moments notice.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

eats his own when he’s alone fs i don’t care. it’s easier than finding a towel and wiping it up. whatever, it’s protein, right?

but he doesn’t expect you to enjoy his cum. of course, you would, lapping it from his tip greedily and making him swoon. he secretly adores when you swallow, ‘so good, takin’ it all.’ the feeling of unloading in your mouth (or cunt) makes his knees wobbly.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

daryl can be a sub little princess sometimes! he’d never ever admit it aloud, but if you praise him during sex, purring some ‘good boy,’ ohhh, he’s a goner. he loves when you take the lead, when you boss him around tellin’ him how you want it. you’d make fun of him, only to get shoved around for it later, because he’s still a dom at heart.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

eh. he’s had sex, definitely, but he’s not a sex god by any means. he’s awkward, uncoordinated and hesitant unless he’s having sex with the same person consistently. even then, he’s not super experimental, constantly worried about hurting the other person. if you two are dating, he takes things slow and definitely doesn’t make the first move. he waits for you to start something, finding your pace and matching it.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

cowgirlllllll all the way. he loooves seeing you on top, rolling those hips. if you have rolls, he’s all over it, squeezing and pawing at your soft skin. watching you bounce on his cock, seeing it bulge in your tummy has him reeling. that way, you have full control of how much you want, how fast you want it. he can finally relax, and let you take control. reverse cowgirl is hot, too, giving him a beautiful view of your ass as it wobbles atop him.

otherwise, doggy is a safe bet. you can always count on daryl to hold your hips the right way, hit it just so to make you melt.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

definitely not a goofy man, but a flustered mess, yes. blushing profusely, grumbling little ‘shuddup’s when you tease. he’s not one to make jokes during intimacy, but it’s mostly because he’s too focused on the task at hand.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

idk who said he’s well groomed but uh… that man does not own a razor. whatever hair he’s working with stays, and while you may convince him to shower regularly, he will not tame the bush (i like a hairy man, what can i say?). chest hair, armpit hair, back hair. god, he’s like a bear.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

daryl is not a romantic, not a smooth talker, not a flirt. but if he loves someone, he isn’t going to have sex unless he can handle the emotional aspect. he’s not going to call you his baby, not going to whisper sweet nothings, but he’ll tell you he loves you. he’ll praise you, tell you you’re doing so well. maybe he’ll stroke your hair (before pulling it), or kiss your neck softly.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

daryl doesn’t jerk it often. hell, he wouldn’t even think to do so unless he was falling for someone. when he finally admits to himself that he has a crush, it opens up a can of worms, and those worms are horny. i imagine he’d hold out until he was going mad, pressed against a tree in the woods or the side of a shed, fisting his cock trying to relieve himself quickly. he’s huffing and puffing, trying desperately to get rid of the arousal. i feel like he either can’t cum, or edges himself until he just falls apart. definitely struggles with shame afterwards, staring at his load sitting in the dirt, panting and sweating. if he can’t cum, oh god, he’s stiff and irritable for days. whining and close to tears as he jerks himself till it hurts, bucking his hips mindlessly.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

daryl has a complex relationship with sex, i feel like that is obvious. he’s fairly vanilla. but if he’s comfortable, he may open up about some stuff he might be into. i don’t feel that he’s had a chance to explore a lot of those kinks, but he’s definitely stroked his dick thinking about them. he’d moan if his hair got pulled during sex, or if you claw at his back in missionary. primal stuff gets him going; sex is a very primal thing for him. he’d love to fuck your throat, despite hesitation and concern for your wellbeing. he’d need a lot of reassurance to really explore his kinks.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

he’s not an exhibitionist, he’s not willing to do things in public, buuuuut!!! going back to the primal aspect of sex, doing it in the woods would be so hot to him, although he’d be hesitant. if you reassure him, he’ll fuck you anywhere, really. but against a tree, in the dirt, connected with nature, would get him going. otherwise, he’d love bending you over the couch, or the bed.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

daryl is not interested in PDA, and is very stubborn about keeping sex to when you two have time alone. you won’t catch him getting hard during a supply run because you rubbed up against him (“knock it off!”). with that being said, what turns him on? domestic things. you’re washing dishes? he’s coming up behind you, nuzzling your neck. you’re cooking? let him paw under your apron. you could be sitting still, reading a book, and he’d get all hot. all he’d want for his lover is for them to be comfortable, healthy and safe. seeing you enjoying life would make him drool.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

like i mentioned earlier, he isn’t into PDA, public sex. if you tried to make the moves on him in front if the group, he’d shove you off, ignore you. sex, love and romance is private for him. he wouldn’t ever hit you, he won’t tie you up or gag you. he’s been through that on his own, and he does not want to recreate it.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

don’t get me started!!!! we all know daryl is a certified pussy muncher, eating you out with his whole body. he’s sloppy, drooling, slurping, sucking. he loves giving you head, doesn’t care if you haven’t showered, shaved, if you’re on your period. getting head is different, he’d be more hesitant to let you do it (“i wouldn’t put my mouth down there, why would i make you?”). once you did it, however, he’d be a total mess. whimpering, whining, struggling not to fuck your mouth. eventually, like i mentioned previously, he’d fall in love with throat-fucking you. once he found your limits, knew when to stop, how long to go for, he’d melt into it. of course, he’d only do it if you mentioned it. he’d be too nervous to ask for it.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

daryl is slow and hesitant, cautious and mindful. of course, once he gets permission, he might lose it a little, fucking you hard and fast. he struggles with self control, which is why sex is so hard for him. i imagine during sex, daryl might turn into a sweaty wreck, begging for you to tell him if he’s hurting you. he holds back for your safety, because he’s a big man, very strong, he could very well break you. generally, he wants to make it last, to ensure you’re satisfied. he doesn’t need to cum, as long as you feel good.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

again, daryl likes to make sex last, but time does not always call for that. if he’s comfortable enough, he may ask for a quickie, just to get some tension out. you might ask for one, and he’ll allow it if there’s time. it’s not his favorite thing, he’s pretty particular about when and where, but if he loves you, if he feels safe with you, he’ll do it.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

eh. i feel like the most he’d do is screw in the woods. if not for the apocalypse, yeah, i’m sure he would. but daryl is too much of a survivalist to take a lot of risks. especially with someone he loves, he won’t put your life in jeopardy for sex.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

oh boy!!! premature ejaculation daryl is canon per norman reedus himself, sooo… but! if he’s in a long-term relationship, stamina builds up, and he’ll go as long as he can to make you happy. he’ll torture himself if it means getting you off. overall, he’s not really down to go for hours and hours, he needs energy to protect his people, but he’ll do his best.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no!

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

hehe. he’s a major tease once he’s established a relationship with you. making little comments that he knows will rile you up, edging you until you cry. once he learns your boundaries, what makes you tick, whoo, you’re in for it. he loves toying with you, rubbing your sex until your squirming all messy and desperate. he’s constantly making fun of how needy you get, how bad you want it or how quick you cum.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s quiet, for sure, but those feral grunts and groans escape his lips. he works hard, pounding into your tight holes with conviction. he’s sweating, huffing and puffing like a wild animal. he never gets real loud, always extremely self aware (unless you’re giving him head / rimming him, then he’s a whiney mess!!).

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

daryl’s first time trying something freaky was nerve-racking. he was shaking, constantly asking if you were okay. you kept saying, “daryl, i’m fine, you haven’t even done anything yet.” he was just so nervous, so scared to hurt you. all you had asked was for him to choke you during sex, and he could barely manage. once he sunk into your tight heat, you placed his fingers on your throat. he hesitated before he wrapped them around, squeezing gently. you had to guide him, reassuring him every five minutes. until he found a rhythm, got close, thrusting into you as you clenched around him. every time you moaned, begged for more, his hand tightened.

now, every time you ask for him to choke you, he will oblige. he loves hearing your wheezes and croaks as he squeezes your neck.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

FINALLY!!!! daryl isn’t a monster, but mans is thick. call me a psycho idc, somewhere around 5-6 inches, cut, veiny, fat. untamed bush, do not test me. dad bod for sure, but we know he’s fit as hell.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

daryl could go his whole life without sex. if he needs to cum, he can do it himself. once he’s in love, though, all he wants is to provide and protect. that includes pleasing you. he doesn’t have a high sex drive by any means, but if you’re home, pouting with those pretty eyes, how can he deny you?

z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

daryl is a snorer. he’ll try so hard to stay up, to keep you entertained after, but he works so hard, especially if you’re needy that night. coated in sweat and slick, he just passes out next to you.

[soleilnomoon]

HEYYYY 2/20 REQUESTS!! LETS GOOOO

ice cream sundae, nougat, neapolitan rose, ice cream cake with honey and caramel!!! for trafalgar law as I'm a one trick pony

give us the pirate x marine angst!! the tension!! the forbidden love!! getting caught by Law and forced (not really, reader wants this badly but has an act to uphold) to play his lustful game where reader ends up throwing out the act in the end and just wants him, and he gives and makes them stay on his crew after!

"don't think I'll let you run back to your shitty marine corps, you're staying with me. but first, I need to punish you some more for all those times you've stopped my crew..."

"oki bb, whatever you say~💅✨😘"

let's pretend i didn't take 100 years to finish this request, however!!!! i had so much fun (i love enemies to lovers sfm, as u know ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡) so sorry it took forever, but it's here at last. i hope you enjoy bc i def had way too much fun writing this.

6.5k words (i know omg, i know shhh), fem reader, nsfw, 18+, mdni; angst angst angst, fluff? don't know her; she doesn't exist here. smut, obvy bc that's what i do ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა enemies 2 lovers, babey. feat. cutesy things like alcohol, public exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), pussy slapping, lil bit of nipple play, other stuff probably; idk law is a mean bitch bc he can't handle his feelings; reader is a marine who has zero self preservation obviously. both of them need to shuddup and kiss. (if u see spelling/grammar errors no u didn't; also the section in italics is a longass flashback i'm not sorry).

“because i am the kind of woman who leaves scars” — anaïs nin

ONE, TWO, THREE

when you received your promotion earlier on in the year, you assumed the higher ups would loosen their leash and let you do as you please. to your inevitable disappointment, they haven’t; you learn this the hard way when several thick stacks of documents are left for you to review on your desk one brisk morning. you scoff, fight the urge to set them on fire, and plop down on the cushioned chair. with your boots propped on top of the desk and feet crossed at the ankles, you close your eyes and sort through the running list of tasks you need to complete before you can set off for the new world.

it's never your intention to think about trafalgar law, but somehow he always finds a way to sneak into your thoughts throughout the day. agitation works its way slowly through your veins, teeth clenched as you grind them against each other. it’s even worse at night, where you find yourself twisted in your bed sheets, tossing and turning, plagued by dreams where his hand wraps around your throat almost too easily. instead of fighting him off, you’re always breathless and mesmerized, lips parted and wanting — his amber eyes holding you in place, seeing through all your thick layers and steel walls that you’ve erected to protect yourself.

no one’s ever penetrated them before and survived.

it's terrifying and unsettling that you always wake up panting, trembling fingers clutching the front of your shirt desperately, sweat pooling around your temples, curls frizzing from the humidity. you fear that your heart is beating hard enough to incapacitate you and you clamp your hand over your mouth as if it’ll prevent you from screaming out in frustration. if you keep your eyes closed, you can still feel his hands around your throat; if you keep your eyes closed, you can ignore the guilt that accompanies those dreams and tread the dangerous path towards impossible fantasies.

an unsteady tightrope that you tackle head on — one foot in front of the other, blindfolded and nervous, unsure of what awaits you at the end.

there’s nothing abnormal about a marine trying to figure out a pirate’s next moves, but your case is a little different. irritated at yourself, you kick your feet off the desk and knock the documents over; the pages float through the air and you laugh as you ignore the mess. you suppose you’ll sort through it all later. the transponder snail rings loud enough to startle you, but you take your time answering.

you pop a mint into your mouth and chew thoughtfully, not bothering with pleasantries as your voice denotes your irritation. “what is it?” you’ve never been one to be polite when speaking to other marines — no matter the rank; and since your mood still hasn’t lifted, you don’t bother pretending.

“oh, absolutely not,” you grit out, brows furrowed, a frown settling on your lips. the commodore refuses to let up, berating you for your past failures and reminding you that as a captain you need to be setting a proper example for your subordinates. right now, the commodore was not happy with you; and if he’d let you explain the situation, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so inclined to lecture you like a child.

“right but—” you’re cut off by another long diatribe of his and the longer he speaks, the angrier you get. “well if you’d listen, then i could—” again, you’re unable to get a word in; you try several times over to no avail. irritation swells inside of you, an itch you can’t quite scratch yet; you clutch the receiver tightly and end up hanging it up once more foolishness is spewed your way. it’s ridiculous that headquarters wants you to drop your current mission and focus on capturing law. they refuse to let you shirk any responsibility as you let him escape the last time you crossed paths. you knew the decision would come to haunt you, but you didn’t think it would be this soon. and while you had a very valid reason for letting him go, you still can’t forget the last thing he said to you before slipping away. it follows you around throughout every day, an unrelenting reminder of your incompetence.

weakness is not an option, even if the enemy in question tends to throw your world into chaos whenever he sees you.

FOUR, FIVE, SIX

you’re nursing your fifth shot of vodka when trafalgar law approaches you; the pub is dingy, overcrowded, but popular. you’re not much of a fan, but the alcohol is cheap — business is always booming. since you typically don’t wear a uniform regardless, no one seems to recognize you — it could be the fact that most of the patrons are drunk or exhausted or a combination of both. you’re too damn tired to make any arrests so you drink to your sorrows and ignore the ache on your face and shoulder.

he slides into your booth, opting to sit right next to you, leg bumping against yours without a care. you cast a sharp glance his way, scowling as you knock back the shot. there’s something off with him tonight; he’s much too relaxed — in all the years you’ve been pursuing him, you’ve never seen him with a devil-may-care attitude. until now.

“bold of you to assume i won’t take your head right here and now,” you say lightly, alcohol sitting heavily on your chest; you’re sure that that’s the reason why you suddenly feel out of breath, but you steel your features in his presence and trace the tip of your finger around the rim of your shot glass. you observe him through your lashes, eyes trailing along his jaw, admiring the distinct features that you can never tire of. if he was uglier, then you’d have no problem dealing with him. but he’s not. it pisses you off.

law pauses, mulls over your words, and tilts his head as he studies you. “that’s the thing,” he leans forward, crowds your space until you back yourself against the wall, wary and critical as you narrow your eyes at him. if he gets any closer, you might not be able to resist whatever nonsense he’ll tout your way. his voice is unnecessarily hypnotic, but if you voice that out loud, he’ll never let you live it down. “you’re not in a position to act right now.” how he knows that is beyond you, but you suck your teeth and roll your eyes.

“don’t test me, i’m not in the mood.” not that you ever are in the mood to deal with him, but he doesn’t need to know that. “now, leave me alone.” you’d rather ignore his presence altogether, but he’s doing that thing where he makes you squirm under his gaze; you try to hide it, but he catches the movement, eyes dipping lower as he takes in your appearance.

it's hot out and you opted for something breezy and short, sleeveless and stress free. you blame the vodka for bringing an uninvited heat to your face when he leans in again; and you blame the vodka for not giving you time to defend yourself against his sorcery. because that’s what it is — that’s what you keep telling yourself, anyway — why else would you inhale deep enough to commit his cologne to memory.

absurd. foolish. this sort of behavior will get you killed.

and yet—

he snorts — a surprise to you both — and coughs to clear his throat. “what will you do if i don’t?” you almost slap him, but keep your hands balled into fists, nails sinking into your palms to keep yourself grounded. it’s not the words that get to you, but the rich timber of his voice drips onto your skin, permeating through the layers, its huskiness mixing into your blood.

his is a voice you’ll never forget, and you hate that so fucking much.

frowning, you fold your arms against your chest, cheeks slightly puffed, that heat still lingering on your face as you try to steady your heartrate. his eyes are hawkish, raking over your body in broad sweeping motions; you watch his throat as he swallows, and suddenly you’re very aware of his proximity. you’re both silent for a long moment, but when you part your lips to speak, you choke on your words as law tugs on your plump bottom lip with his fingers.

you stare at him incredulously, but you don’t move; normally you tell him off, give him scathing words and go back and forth until you’re both too tired to continue. to make matters worse, your tongue darts out and briefly flicks against his finger. a harsh current of electricity shoots up the length of his arm, making him retract his hand quickly. he gives you a hardened stare, jaw clenched, eyes narrowing before muttering something under his breath. you catch the words, “ridiculous” and “unnecessary” and “how irritating.”

you want to point out that he’s the irritating one, but you’re still reeling from what you’ve done. shame settles onto your shoulders, makes it hard to move around. so you order another drink. you half-expect law to leave, but he doesn’t, which is strange. very, very strange. you don’t bother talking to him but find that you can’t ignore his presence any longer. his knee presses against your thigh and he leans against the palm of his hand while his elbow is propped on the table. always silently watching, crafting contingency plan after contingency plan — you’re a wildcard that needs to be dealt with. swiftly.

it must be an act of pure possession that forces him to snatch the shot glass out of your hand and chuckle darkly when you try to grab it back. the words that fly out of your mouth are tart yet welcomed; he’s comforted by that sort of behavior, because it’s predictable. and it’s your predictability that will allow him the chance to escape with his crew. when he brings the glass to his lips, you feel your annoyance reach its peak.

“don’t. you. dare.”

it's your drink, he needs to get his own. granted, you definitely don’t need to drink anymore; but you’re committed to wallowing and throwing a pity party that you don’t want law to interrupt. the vodka floods his senses as soon as its in his mouth, you watch in horror as he finishes your drink, a small smirk prancing onto his lips when he places the glass down. he’s testing your patience, you know that, however it doesn’t stop you from grabbing onto his shirt, fisting the fabric as you bring your face close to his.

“the fuck did i just say? what is your damn problem?” your anger is rolls off of you — lethal and toxic, spreading through the air — but it only furthers his interest in you, although he’ll deny that later on. he’s not sure why, but he grabs your chin roughly and runs his tongue along your lips. your breath stills, and you wonder if maybe this is all a dream; since you’re properly distracted, he releases your chin and grips your neck, long fingers pressing into the sides. firm enough to make you gasp, but not hard enough to cut off your breathing completely.

you can feel your pulse skyrocket, and while you try to keep calm, you can’t; not when he traps your bottom lip in between his teeth, not when his other hand runs along the inside of your thigh, and not when you inhale sharply and lean forward to kiss him impulsively. you completely take him off guard, as he fully expected you to fight him a bit more. law rubs his thumb along your neck before squeezing it again, slanting his lips against yours, tongue stroking hotly and licking inside your mouth. you were upset he took your drink, but you can taste the alcohol on his tongue — it’s more potent than the other five shots you downed previously.

his hand inches higher, fingers gliding underneath your dress, goosebumps pricking your skin mercilessly with every swipe of his tongue. you place your hands on his chest, the warmth from your skin nearly burning through his clothes. this is a mistake; he knows it, he should’ve left you alone — but he knows that’s easier said than done. besides, you’re one of the few constants in his chaotic life right now. he kisses you to sate his growing appetite, but it’s not enough; if anything, it only stokes the mania that he keeps locked away. ravenous and unyielding; he knows better than to open that door just yet.

your lips are softer than he imagined, plush and inviting, supple enough to stir certain feelings that he continues to ignore. his annoyance still lingers as his arousal builds inside of him; he didn’t think you’d be this pliant, didn’t think you’d allow him to squeeze and caress your thigh like that. in all honesty, you just aren’t thinking; he’s taken that away from you — all your logic and sound judgement — and when the tips of his fingers graze the front of your panties, you let out a soft whimper that nearly makes him forget himself.

he swallows all your doubts and worries, gives rise to a feverish madness that whirls inside of you; turbulent, accosting in nature, a force to be reckoned with. he only meant to tease you, but in return he set himself up for failure; his cock strains inside of his jeans, the front pressing painfully against his half-stiff length. if he doesn’t stop soon, if he doesn’t find a way to purge you from his system, he might never be able to stop touching you.

law’s fingers stroke along the front of your panties, the fabric growing damp as he rubs firm circles on your clothed cunt. you nearly leap out of your skin, whine pathetically against his lips, legs spreading as he applies more pressure. a small voice in the back of his mind reminds him that he’s wasting time, but when he tugs your panties to the side, when his long fingers work their way inside of your needy hole, he forgets himself. your walls are warm and tight, and squeeze around his fingers as soon as he starts to move them.

the pace he sets is slow enough to annoy you, but you moan against his lips, he plunges his fingers deeper — enjoying the way your pussy clenches around his fingers with each thrust. impulse coats your tongue, makes you kiss him wildly to gain control of the situation; your hips roll forward, desperate to chase the high that is just outside of your reach. he pulls away, chest heaving, eyes darkening as he keeps moving his fingers; you’re left in a daze, fury rising at your inability to resist his charm and at the shameless way you let him handle your body.

it's pride that prevents you from calling out his name, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you stifle the wanton noises that rattle around the back of your throat. because he’s determined to not let you have your way, he plucks his fingers out of you and admires the way your slick wetness drips slowly down the length of his fingers. appalled and embarrassed enough to want to hide forever, you look around to make sure no one is paying any attention.

“wipe them off,” you whisper loudly. law looks at you briefly, an idea forming as he pulls you close and swipes his fingers along your lips. they glisten under the dim lighting, and you can feel a flush take hold of your entire body. before you can say anything, he licks the remainder of your arousal off his fingers and then licks your lips again.

“sweet.”  he blurts it without thinking — more so an observation than anything else, but he berates himself internally for not keeping the comment to himself.

your thoughts scatter, a shiver gliding down your back as you watch him with widened eyes. it doesn’t take long for your brain to start functioning normally again, but the residual embarrassment will stay with you for the duration of the night. after smacking his hand, you scoot away in the hopes of ridding yourself of the moment. absently, you lick your lips, mind replaying that small series of events over and over, tipping your sanity over the edge.

“go away,” you say again, as you try to quiet the thundering beats from your heart. you squeeze your thighs together, ignore the way the ache keeps growing, and hope that whatever spell he cast on you disappears once he leaves. you’re surprised that you can formulate coherent statements, as you’re still trying to sort through the haze from your arousal and your rising anger. “you had no right—”

“relax, relax,” he says nonchalantly, shoulders loose as he grins devilishly at you. “you’re making quite the scene. i’m sure you’d like to keep your identity hidden in here, right?” you swallow back your retort, eyes roaming around the pub as you take in the various pirates that have gathered there. he makes a solid point. if you cause a scene, you won’t be able to fight them all; you’d certainly try, though. he can tell. brows knitted closely together, you consider your options, but ultimately decide to back off.

“fine.” it’s difficult for you to let things go, but you don’t need anymore broken bones; your subordinates are still resting, so you can’t risk putting their lives in danger all to shut trafalgar law up. “are you done? can you leave, now?” because it unnerves you that he still hasn’t moved away.

the issue is that he doesn’t know how to leave you alone; he hates the power you hold over him, the one you wield without trying. and then you have the nerve to act clueless; he’s certain you know exactly what you’re doing, and he won’t believe otherwise. still, he shouldn’t linger any longer, because if you decide to change your mind — which, he suspects, could happen if he pushes you hard enough — then he’ll draw more attention to himself than necessary.

he takes the initiative to slide out of the booth and regards you coolly, that stoic mask he’s infamous for returning in full force. with a tilt of his head, he says, “we’ll play again another time, firefly,” and strides out of the pub without looking back at you. once the night air hits his face, a burst of clarity follows; it takes a lot for him to keep walking, to inhale through his nostrils to calm himself completely. by the time he reaches the polar tang, he’s agitated all over again. his crew mates know better than to ask questions, and he motions for them to start preparing the ship for the next voyage.

if any of your subordinates find out what happened, you’ll be ruined. still, you can’t say you detested any of it — if anything, you feel more invigorated than before.

SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE

that memory drives you to act; reminds you that you have a mission to uphold, that as a marine you must prioritize the safety of the public over whimsical fantasies about a man who intentionally tries to catch you off guard whenever possible. if the commodore caught wind that you not only let law escape, but that you kissed him too. you gather the scattered documents together and sift through them quickly; you know what is expected of you. if you don’t catch law soon, they’ll demote you; and not that you care about promotions or titles, there’s a certain level of freedom awarded at your status as a captain.

you refuse to give that up.

it doesn’t take long, but you gather a small group to travel with you to the new world; they’re not the bravest, but they’re stealthy and creative. you don’t need brash idiots who will run into battle without thinking things through — not that you have room to talk, you’re much more reckless than you let on. it takes a little more than six days to reach your destination, a lovely island full of lush plants and flowers, with lively towns and villages. you reach the island before the heart pirates do and bide your time until they discreetly dock along the coast.

it's been two months since the last time he saw you and he’s yet to find some semblance of peace because of it. while law prides himself on being able to multitask, to be able to think several steps ahead of his enemy, he can admit that you tend to divert his plans without even trying. insomnia prevents him from properly resting, although that’s due to the way his thoughts are often haunted by the memory of your lips on his. if he closes his eyes, he can still picture the way you struggled to keep quiet, the way your pussy kept sucking his fingers back in; he should be disgusted and ashamed, except he’s not.

and even as fatigue settles over his bones, weighs him down, chaining him to his bed, his mind still won’t let up. it’s because he hates you, that his cock won’t let up. he hates how you can’t seem to take a hint, hates the way you insist on chasing after him, and hates how you defy his expectations every single time. it’s almost always late at night when he dreams of you — writhing underneath him, skin littered with bite marks and bruises courtesy of the brutish way he handles you — and he’s always startled awake, desire coiling around his legs, restricting his movements as he fists his cock.

it's out of hatred and annoyance, it’s what he keeps telling himself — even after he bites his fist to keep from moaning out loud — but the lie gets harder to tell as the days go on.

bepo takes note of law’s change in demeanor, confers with penguin before confronting their captain with his theories. law sighs loudly, irritation coming to a boil, festering underneath his skin as he tries to listen calmly.

“i’m staying one step ahead,” he says smoothly, flipping through a medical textbook and ignoring the pointed looks from shachi; he’s read this book before, but they don’t need to know that. “what do you think will happen if we don’t eliminate her soon?” his notoriety has caught up with him; there’s very few islands he can frequent openly without having to worry about the navy catching him. not that he actually worries about that, but still. it’s rich, though, coming from him — and bepo almost points it out but refrains when he catches the look on law’s face, the one that chills him to his bones, makes him shrink back and keep quiet for the duration of the morning.

law grinds his teeth together, ignoring the guilt that plagues him; it’s not bepo’s fault, but he’s on edge and doesn’t see a clear way out just yet. he instructs his crew to scope out the area and set up camp; he’s not too concerned with any navy interference, but one can never be too careful on the grand line. it’s intentional when law loudly announces that he’s heading to town alone, already discovering one of your subordinates before carrying on; he leaves his first catch behind for his crew to deal with, while he waits for you to find him.

you don’t know why you thought this would be easy; infiltration is your specialty, but with this lot you’re not able to be as discreet as you hoped. you’ve had to shush a few of them several times already, much to their annoyance — although, they don’t voice that out loud, instead opting to mumble under their breaths to one another instead. you don’t care, though; you’re focused on the mission at hand. you follow law as quickly as possible, going from street to alleyway — but when you take the wrong turn, you can’t find him anywhere.

it's suspiciously quiet around you, which is when you notice that the others are nowhere to be seen. great. just great. you’ll have to scold them later, but for now, you’ll just do the job your damn self. after an hour of searching, of combing through the crowds of people in the hopes of spotting law, you nearly give up. a familiar hand grabs onto your arm and pulls you into a nearby alley. you stumble and law uses the momentum to shove you against the wall — weathered bricks crumbling as you look up at him. anger courses through you, but before you can act, he smiles slyly and confusion takes hold of your face.

“before you say anything,” he starts, voice smooth and intoxicating, “your men are being held captive.” it’s not that he cares enough to tell you, but he thoroughly enjoys the way desperately try to steel your features to appear unaffected by his news. “they’re not your usual crew,” he muses out loud, eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out if he’s missing something.

you simply shrug, opting for nonchalance — even though you can feel your heart leap out of your chest when he moves closer to you. “what can i say,” you pause, lick your lips, mind racing as you try to buy some time, “i have a lot of men under me.” an unintentional slip of the tongue, one that simultaneously impresses and infuriates him; mostly because he now has an image of you fucking other men and he doesn’t like that. at all. jealousy prompts him to keep your wrists bound together, the restraints digging into your skin as he drags you back to the shore. he could’ve easily transported both of you to the polar tang, but he wants to teach you a lesson instead. you struggle to keep up with his long strides and curse at him behind his back; although it’s mildly entertaining to him. at the thought of running, you remember his previous threat — that he’d fuck you publicly, in front of your men and his — and behave. somewhat.

your skin flushes at that, your mind wandering as you consider your options; if you let law have his way, you’ll be proving the commodore right. you refuse to let that old bastard have the last word. you don’t realize you’ve made it to the ship until you see your men being held hostage by law’s crew. if you can slip away from law long enough, you might be able to help them escape — and, as if he can sense that very thought, he glances over at you sharply, dark brow raising, almost as if he’s challenging you to do just that.

you doubt you’ve ever hated anyone as much as you hate him right now.

“two options,” he says suddenly, voice permeating the air, menacing and matter-of-factly, “i let you go and eliminate your men.” you make a face at that, the frown semi-permanent as you wonder if the second option is any better. “or, i let them go and keep you.” he hadn’t meant to say it like that, and bepo gives him a knowing look that he conveniently ignores. the answer is clear-cut, and, without hesitation, you tell him to let your men go. he smiles at that — every bit as devilish as they say — and while he half-expected your men to bargain, to plead for mercy, they don’t.

it rubs him the wrong way for some reason.

“that eager to get rid of her?” he asks them, and they remain quiet before voicing aloud the opinions they were only brave enough to tell one another. apparently, you rub people the wrong way with your polarizing views, contrary opinions on most political matters; you always need to have the last say, and while you do your best to fight on what you believe is the right side of justice, you only do so on your own terms. the men you chose for this mission never had faith in your plan, and it could be because the commodore manipulated them into double-crossing you.

is it pathetic that you didn’t see it coming? you can’t blame them for bailing, but a bitter taste seeps up your throat as you try to stay focused. law gives them three minutes to get out of his line of sight and they push one another as they scurry away. he’d threatened them earlier too, that he’d kill you if they breathed a word to headquarters. they believed him — he could tell from the way their eyes widened, from how their shoulders tensed, and from how their hands shook. he had no intention of killing you, of course, but they didn’t need to know that.

you watch them retreat and let out a humorless laugh; it’s cut short when law leans in to say, “checkmate, firefly. time to play.”

TEN. TEN. TEN!

aboard the polar tang, law endures endless questions about why you’re still alive, but law insists that he has a plan — he always has one, even though his current one is unraveling slowly. he hadn’t planned on you caving, but he assumes this is a ploy on your part so that he can lower his guard. even though he removed the restraints around your wrists, it doesn’t matter; you know you can’t escape him now. you’ll have to bide your time until you can find an opening.

it's rare for law to venture into his room before nighttime, but he makes an exception to interrogate you — or, that’s what he tells his crew. you know nothing good can come from the two of you being alone together, but you’re currently at his mercy, hoping whatever he has in store won’t be too painful. he leans against the wooden desk in his room, arms folded against his chest as he watches you — eyes hawkish, tracking your movements with precision.

“strip.”

you blink at him repeatedly, even laugh and shake your head. “absolutely not.” you know you’re in no position to try and barter your way out, but you’d like to try anyway. law, however, doesn’t give you the opportunity. he closes his eyes, inhales sharply before repeating himself — the command latches onto your skin, burns you alive once he sets his eyes on you again. you don’t think you can refuse him the second time; not out of fear, but because he’s giving you that same heated look he gave you month ago in the pub.

you tell yourself that it doesn’t matter, that you can follow whatever asinine rules he’s set for this “game” and take your time undressing. it’s that audacity that makes him want you badly, the desire nearly taking hold of every rational thought in his mind as he takes in your hips and thighs. you inhale deeply, do your best to remain in control, but feel your nipples harden under his intense gaze, turning you into some blushing fool.

“get on the bed.” he’s never shared his bed with anyone, so this is all quite new for him, but he doesn’t voice that out loud and instead takes pleasure watching the way you comply without much of a fuss. you move to the center and before you know it, law’s pushed you onto your back, hand gliding down your stomach, fingers hovering over your pussy. if you inhale deeply enough, you’ll be forever consumed by him — and you’re having great difficulty trying to convince yourself to keep on fighting.

this isn’t exactly a part of his plan, but as he’s a quick thinker he’ll improvise on the way. you should have more self-preservation, but law flicks his tongue against your pert nipple before sucking on it selfishly. you let out a startled cry and place your hands over your mouth to keep from making anymore sounds. you refuse to let him have that satisfaction, but the longer he teases your breasts, teeth grazing over your skin, the quicker your anger fizzles out. you know better than to keep indulging, to stop this before it’s too late, but your mind grows hazy once he spreads your legs and instructs you to grab onto the backs of your thighs.

despite not being a connoisseur of the fine arts, law admires the way your slick arousal glides down your slit; he wonders, briefly, if you still taste the same. you’re much too aware of your own breathing, and when law’s mouth hovers over your pussy, you almost lose your mind. “don’t move,” is all he says before running his tongue in between your folds, making your hips buck against him. “what did i just say?” he glances at you, his cock stiff beneath his pants, making it difficult to concentrate. you swallow hard and nod at him, steadying your breath as he slowly crafts a very crude love letter on your pussy with his tongue.

in between strokes of his tongue, he tosses questions your way, fully expecting you to answer as you keep holding onto your legs. in the span of two minutes, he’s already extracted a few deep confessions from you — ones that he pockets for later, to investigate further — but you’re beyond caring at this point. your body burns as you try not to move, chest heaving, teeth biting down on your lip hard. it becomes impossible to pay attention to his words, and your wetness clings to the insides of your thighs as law continues to antagonize you in the best way possible.

you’re not sure how long you last like that, but when you sift through his dark hair with your fingers and tug hard, he pulls back to give you a look before slapping your pussy. the shriek you let out quickly turns into a moan when law pinches your clit. “don’t be a brat,” he warns, voice gruff and husky. your legs shake when he slips two fingers inside of you, tongue circling and swirling around your throbbing clit, as he thrusts his fingers in and out. your stifled moans annoy him, he tells you as much before sucking harder, fingers scissoring as your walls squeeze tight. his erection is partially to blame for why he's acting irrationally, but it’s also very much your fault too.

the last time he had his fingers this deep in your pussy, you had to keep quiet, but now? he’s interested in hearing what other sounds you can make.

“don’t close your mouth, i want to hear you.”

if you weren’t so captivating and alluring, he wouldn’t have any issues; but there he is, slurping on your pussy like the delectable piece of fruit it is. it’s a rush, really, and he doesn’t stop you when you roll your hips again, enjoying the shameless way you buck against his mouth. you’re not sure if it’s the way he holds onto your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin, or if it’s the way he moans against your cunt, that insatiable hunger raw and feral, turning him into a man possessed. you tug on his hair again, harder this time, crying out as your orgasm brings a deep shudder through you. law doesn’t let up, tongue lapping at your wetness, not bothering to wipe it off his chin.

you watch him through your lashes, face growing hot as you watch him take his clothes off too. you’re not sure what comes over you, but you pull him down for a sloppy kiss, tongue brushing against his as he rubs the thick head of his cock in between your folds. he knows that if he doesn’t fuck you soon, he might just die. or, something close to it. the kiss is all tongue and teeth — fervent and sensual. you taste yourself on his mouth and completely forget that things have gone a little too far.

and just when you think you’re close to having the advantage, he bites your lip hard enough to draw blood and flicks his tongue out; it’s a sharp, coppery taste that fuels him to kiss you all over again — a euphoric delirium, deadly and carnal. you drag your nails down the hard planes of his chest, taking your time to commit each dip and curve of his muscles to memory. rather than let vulnerability catch him off guard, he grabs your face and runs his tongue down the length of your throat.

that lust-filled haze guides you onto your knees, ass playfully rubbing against his stiff length; he grabs you roughly, teases your entrance, and inches his cock inside of you before snapping his hips against yours. law burrows his cock into your puffy pussy, your soft, gummy walls clenching as he pulls out and slams into you all over again. your moans bounce around the room, swirling around his head, making him light-headed.

his girth is every bit as imposing as he is, but you take it without much issue, hips rocking against his, fingers grabbing at his bedsheets as you arch your back. law slaps your ass before fucking you harder, watching the way his cock disappears into your pretty pussy with every stroke. you feel another orgasm approach, his thrusts brutal, but delicious, making your toes curl as you shamelessly moan his name. if he was a better man, he’d take his time with you, let you get acclimated to his size, and hand you the reins.

but he’s not; he’s a pirate, after all.

he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you towards him, leaving behind open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck and jaw. his hips stay close to yours, strokes getting faster and rougher, pussy squelching loudly, but you don’t ask him to stop — if anything, you keep chanting more, more, more. he dips a hand in between your thighs and rubs your clit, making your body convulse, voice growing hoarse from how loud you’re being.

when you cum you’re nearly incapacitated, eyes rolling back, cunt fluttering around his thick cock, squirting as his hips knock against yours. a merciless, unrelenting tempo, one that has you melting under his touch. he doesn’t last much longer, his cum thick and hot as it pours into you, dripping down his length as his hips slow down. you can hardly move, legs completely giving out, body like jelly as you plop down onto the bed. he runs a hand down his face and looks at you, a warmth invading his chest, making it hard to breathe properly. to combat that ridiculous feeling, he tells you that he’s far from done with you and that he has no plans on letting you return to the navy. if you had more sense, if you weren’t as obsessed with trafalgar law as he is with you, then you’d find fault with his words.

he tells himself he’s doing this to teach you a lesson, to punish you for all the times you’ve interrupted his journey, but he knows the truth — and, after seeing this side of him, the one where he’s completely tossed aside that mask he wears, you also know too.

[jrueships]

I’m aware that this was not the point of the kawhi and pg retiring together post but pg calling kawhi honey!!!!! Omg!!! I’m in love with nicknames so this was so cute 😭. And Luka having them for Dennis in the redacted post !! CUTE “honey” 🥲 “kitten” 😳 “SWEETHEART”!!!! Ahsjsksj- *explodes* anyway do any of your other ships have nicknames for each other 🤔

GOOOOD bruh this is SUCH a good ask literally like. im SO sorry it took me so long to finally answer it but I've been looking at this and trying to figure out how to do it justice FOREEEVER it was just That good 2 me. IM SO GLAD U THOUGHT THAT WAS CUTE!!! I LOVE ships where the couples give each other nicknames I DUNNO they hit DIFFERENT!! The way yall be reading my tags 😭 !! IS NICE 🤩🤩‼‼ BUT YEA!!!! LETS GET RIGHT 2 IT!!!

Marcus Smart+Giannis: OKAY so I think that they BOTH kinda like??? Secretly Pride themselves on being GREAT at nicknames lol. Giannis's "khash money and big money" (Khris STILL calls jrue big money its so funny. The bucks love giannis so much and honestly?? Who doesnt??? ((Harden))) I think giannis uses nicknames more tho?? Because marcus wants to be cool and not look so sappy for giannis but sometimes it slips 🥰 ANYWAYS THOOO i think giannis calls marcus like "SMARTIES!!!!" or "MY SWEET!!!" or something endearing old grandparents call each other And like. They run to each other and giannis sweeps him up in his long arms and they spin around laughing all cheesy like that!!! Or sometimes giannis will call him, the very loving, "mahkus shart" or "fart" and then try excusing it on having a relapse on the English language even tho they both know Damn well he's just being a little shit. But when giannis and Markus are cuddling in bed together during the sleepy hours of trying to drift into dreamland, giannis probably calls marcus like.. "stars", or somethin. Kisses his freckles and his acne scars. Marcus probably calls Giannis "gianny!!" On the downlow or "hey, deer" or "beanpole" LMAO. Sometimes "prancer" or "big man" But for the public he does his 'GRANT.' tone but with "GIANNIS." instead to get his attention

Trae + John collins: I think they stick to their usual stupid nicknames like. Trae is IceTrae and john is The Baptist. Trae probably makes jokes about wanting John to wash his feet when they're high together. Trae calls John his "girlfriend" his "wifey" his "bae" you know whatever typical fuckboys use to make their tiktok gfs feel special! John is probably like "dude, im a guy." but can't help but feel his heart beating at the nicknames anyways because he is WEEK and STOOPID!!!! BUT OF COURSE they use the typical bros and dudes and mans!! John probably has to call trae "big man" or "chief" LMFAO. Trae literally does Not have this kinda energy but despite that... he probably really Really wants to be called d*ddy IM SORRY IM JUST TELLIN THE FACTS OKAY. ANYWAYS

Draymond+Swaggy P: swaggy p will sometimes not acknowledge dray if he does not call him swaggy p*nis at least Once a month. Nick could be hanging off a cliff on the verge of falling and Draymond would extend his hand out saying "NICK!! GRAB MY HAND!!!" And nick would just cross his arms and be like "refer to me with my Full Name, Draymond." and then plummet to the void. Draymond does Not call swaggy p swaggy p*nis tho, and will be actually really glad that he gets a moment of silence from Nick's deranged fuckboyness. Nick never wins the silent games with dray. He probably ends up trying to tug on his hoodie or vandalize dray's things to try and get his attention again. ANYWAYS nick tries to get away with calling dray anything really cheesy that he THINKS is hot. Like "hello my gorgeous hobgoblin" or "hey butterfly bae 🥰🥰" and dray tells him to shut up but he secretly enjoys them LMAO. Dray probably just calls nick "swaggy" or "nick". Bitch in the bedroomlolANYWAYS

Pat bev+Lou will: yes, I snuck them in here SHUDDUP my game MY rules!!! I think pat would be like... committing a crime .. kicking a fire hydrant and turning over cars or whatever, but then he'll hear lou call him "Patti !" and he'll suddenly stop and snuggle into his lap or somethin LMAO. Idk... I love.. the grandpas 🥰🥰 crazy man who has soft spot for destruction, crime, and lou will

Jeff teague+LeBron: LISTENLISTENLUS- OKAY. LISTEN. I love their relationship in like a FUNNY sense like.... bron really sweeped teague SO many times it's FUNNY. I like to think about them as the like... D-classed villain, who can only rob small children, declaring the strongest hero Ever as his arch nemesis... and the superhero not seeing them as a threat at ALL. LIKE WHEN TEAGUE SHOVED BRON ONCE and bron just got back up without a care LMAO. I think Teague stays up all night dreaming about one day finally like BEATING beating LeBron.. and when they meet on court he's like "your castle will be MINE as will be your CROWN and your CAVS, 'kiNg bRoN' " and LeBron just laughs, pats him on the back, and says, "okay Jeff lol" and then blows his team out by 50 points . AnNYWAYS yea i think teague comes up with a Lot of not pg13 nicknames for bron and bron just calls him Jeff

Robin +Kris Dunn: kris probably calls Robin "old man" and "twiggy" and "birdnest brain" and a thousand other teasing words, and he smirks up at him expecting a reaction, but Robin just laughs and calls him "peanut" and kris goes home and claws off the wallpaper to his bathroom walls

Myles+ Victor oladipo: myles is a nerd so he loves when vic calls him "myles Morales" because IT'S CLEVER. and hes a geek. Victor gets called Viccy or just Oladipo ! Sometimes thingamajig !!!

Keldon+Anthony Edwards: I JUST THINK THEIR PERSONALITIES WOULD BE GOOD TOGETJER anyways I think keldon would call him "eddy!!!" While Ant prefers to call keldon like "my shawty boo Thang 🥰🥰" LMAO

Russ and kd are the classic "only call each other by the last names until something serious comes up". like maybe they pass each other in the hall. Russ with his classic head down and beady eyes to the floor stance. They don't look at each other as they exchange a cold "Westbrook." "DURANT . " but then when conversations get heated or they start talking things over... Durant finally calls Russell "Russ.." and westbrook calls him "kd." Again .....

Fultz/Fox: they go by fultz and fox!!! Sometimes "Feds" and "Fox"!! I think because Fox is a weeb he calls Markelle the "vegeta" to his goku. The sasuke to his naruto etcetc!! While fultz smiles and thinks about gay astrology/ poetic analogies like " de'aaron.. the sun to my moon. The flame to my hearth. The key to my heart". and feigns petting Fox's past goku hair LMAO

demar/kyle: deebo calls Kyle Fat Ass. it's very romantic

[shyneanon]

I don't entirely know the details either. It could be a debt of some sort (maybe he stole some donuts from her lol), or just an random dislike of him. Idk, I just have a feeling a lot of the UF cast have a mutual loathing of Fell XDD

Splynter gave me a prompt about UF Sans having to go speak to Muffet. I knew they disliked each other, but didn’t really know the details of their dynamic, so I  asked. Honestly I agree, I feel like most of the Underfell cast just hates Sans. Which makes sense, considering pretty much everyone seems to love Sans in Undertale. Kind of reversed.

I’m not... sure how accurately I wrote UF Muffet, but I tried. I hope you like it!

---

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

Sans stood outside of the door to Muffet’s, feeling countless beads of sweat running down his forehead. Sure, they were on the surface now. He was… pretty sure she wouldn’t hurt him.

But there weren’t really any guarantees.

And besides, even if she didn’t hurt him, she would find some way to make his life miserable. He just needed to get in and back out as fast as possible. Why couldn’t Boss have done this?! He’d asked, but apparently Boss had taken that as a “Sans needs to learn to not be such a fucking wimp all the time.” He wasn’t a wimp! This was Muffet they were talking about! And she hated him! Him specifically! She would listen to Boss, at least a little bit…. Ugh. There was no point in stalling. He just needed to go in already.

He forced himself to place his hand on the door handle and push it open, rushing inside before he could change his mind.

The bell attached to the door made a little jingling sound as the door shut behind him, and he froze immediately. Muffet was right at the counter, wiping it down. She hadn’t noticed him yet.

“I’m afraid we just closed,” she began, but immediately paused after turning her head and seeing who had just entered the store. Sans felt himself start to sweat again and looked away.

“Hi, how are ya?” He tried to say it casually, but didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t want her to think he was being disrespectful.

She gasped, an utterly false gasp of joy. “Oh, Sans! How are you? It’s been so long!”

An army’s worth of spiders scuttled down from the counter and surrounded him in a semicircle.

“Too long.”

She giggled. Sans could feel himself shaking a little. It’s fine. She won’t hurt me. She knows Boss would kill her if she hurt me, even if it is against the law. Reminding himself that his brother really did care made him feel a bit better.

“What’s the matter? Go ahead and tell me what you’re here for, hm?”

He managed. “I got some’a yer money I owe ya.”

“Oh! Really?”

He nodded vigorously, pulling out the cash from his pocket. At the sudden movement, the spiders instinctively moved forward, but relaxed when they saw that he meant no harm.

“Oh! How lovely!” She looked down at something he couldn’t see behind the counter.

God no.

“Why don’t you go grab it, pet?”

There were several snarling sounds and Muffet’s horrible pet crawled over the counter and over to Sans. It opened its drooling mouth and displayed its sharp teeth. Making sure to barely hold the cash between the tip of his thumb and index fingers, Sans held it out and let the pet grab it, flinching when it bit down. Thankfully, his bones were untouched.

“Aww! It likes you so much!”

Just make this end, dammit….

“Why don’t you give it a few pats, hmm?”

“H… huh?” Sans felt himself start to sweat again. He smiled nervously. “I mean… I would, but I, uh--”

“It will be sad if you don’t!” She flashed him a smug smile. “And I’ll be very upset if you make it sad.”

ffffffffff

“R… right,” he said, and reached out. It flinched, which made him flinch, but he eventually patted its head. It started to growl, but he knew better than to stop, so he just continued and prayed that it wouldn’t decide to bite his hand off.

“Aww. It enjoys being pet so much! You can stop now.”

He immediately withdrew his hand, shoving it in its pocket, and the pet scurried back over to Muffet and handed her the cash. She started to flip through it.

“Well! Finally, we…”

She trailed off, counting the money again, and Sans started to shake once more. Had the pet swallowed some of the cash? Please no.

Her eyes went from the money to him.

“This is only half of your owed amount,” she said, her voice riddled with distaste.

“Y… Yeah.”

All five of her eyes narrowed as she stood up completely straight. “I thought I told you not to come back until you had all of my money, Sans.”

OK, time to completely cast aside his pride.

“I know!” he said. “I’m sorry! I wanted tah wait till I had it all, but Boss--”

“Hmmm, or wait forever?”

“N-- no, I was savin’ it up, but we had ‘n agreement an’ I didn’t wanna--”

“You know,” she interrupted, although he hesitantly tried to continue blabbering. “I just realized my pet hasn’t had any food since lunch.”

The pet, which was still standing on the counter, turned and stared at him with its beady eyes. He tried not to look too afraid. Technically, he could annihilate Muffet and her pet if he wanted, but he didn’t want anybody to know about what he was capable of.

“That’s illegal,” he said. “Yer shop’ll get shut down.”

“Oh trust me,” she said, “I can make sure no one pins it on me.” A bit of a manic smile. “It’s not as if they’ll have a body as evidence.”

“My bro’ll know you did it, he’ll kill ya.”

“Mmm. Your brother is only so strong.”

That may as well have been an insult, considering the Underground’s culture. Sans didn’t think before speaking-- a bad habit he often suffered from. “Shuddup, my brother’s stronger than you’ll ever be!”

A moment of silence as they both realized what he’d just said. They just stared at each other. Sans started to panic. He didn’t want to shortcut right in front of somebody. She was going to let that stupid pet eat him and--

No, the door was right behind him. He could run! Cowardly, sure, and embarrassing, but he’d be alive. He turned-- only to find someone towering over him.

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

“Boss!” Sans practically yelled in relief. His brother raised a brow at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh!” said Muffet. She suddenly looked nervous. Only so strong, my ass. “Hello, Papyrus! Your lovely brother here was just paying me some of his debt. I’m quite appreciative!”

“AS YOU SHOULD BE,” said Papyrus stiffly. He must have seen Muffet’s sadistic smile through a window. Sans turned back around, giving Muffet a smug smile of his own when his brother wasn’t looking. How the tables have turned, huh?

She kept her fake smile plastered on her face, and her attention on Papyrus. “We just now closed, but you and I are always such good friends! Would you like something? It’s on the house! I made cupcakes just a few hours ago, they’re still--”

“NO,” said Papyrus, “WE ARE NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR SECOND-RATE FOOD.”

She looked like she’d just been slapped in the face, she was so horrified. Sans saw his chance and sauntered up to the counter, the spiders on the floor scuttling out of the way.

“I’ll take some,” he said, giving her a massive, shark-toothed grin.

One of her eyes twitched.

“I mean, ya did say I’m real lovely, right? ‘N we’re all such good friends.”

“... Of course,” she said, though the murderous rage radiating off of her was quite palpable. “Anything! What would you like?”

“Ya said ya made cupcakes?”

“Yes, I did in fact do that.” She pointed at six cupcakes immaculately decorated with clean frosting.

“Nice. I’ll take all six.”

“All six? I didn’t say you could have...” She stopped, looking over in Papyrus’s direction, and her grin became somehow more forced. “... I mean, of course, yes! Six cupcakes coming right up!”

It was almost like she had to force her limbs to grab the cupcakes, put them into a box, and then hand them to Sans without asking for any pay.

“Aw geez, Muffet, yer always such a great friend,” he said, beaming maliciously up at her.

“Always. You two take care now!”

“See ya,” he said, and headed for the door. Papyrus said nothing, just held the door open for him. Once he’d left, Papyrus followed.

“YOU KNOW I ONLY LET YOU TAKE SIX CUPCAKES BECAUSE I SAW THAT SHE WAS THREATENING YOU DESPITE HAVING THE MONEY.”

“Yeah, thanks fer saving my ass.”

“LANGUAGE! DON’T SPEAK LIKE A BARBARIAN, SANS!”

“Sure.” Sans opened up the box, grabbed a cupcake, and began stuffing his face. “These are so fuckin’ good,” he said through a full mouth.

Papyrus sighed with exasperation.

He then held out a hand. Immediately understanding, Sans handed him a cupcake.

“Ya didn’t mean, it right? When ya said her food was second-rate?”

“OF COURSE I DIDN’T!” said Papyrus as he carefully unwrapped the cupcake. “HER PASTRIES ARE AMAZING! BUT SHE WAS THREATENING YOU! SHE DESERVED TO FACE CONSEQUENCES, EVEN IF KILLING HER ISN’T AN OPTION!”

Sans was too absorbed in his sweets to reply.

“... I’LL ADMIT, WATCHING HER SQUIRM WAS QUITE SATISFYING.”

“Yeah,” said Sans, “it was hilarious.” His smile faltered. “You’ll, uh, probably need tah take the second half of th’ debt to ‘er when ya get it. She’ll… prob’ly kill me if I try tah give it to her.”

“... THAT’S PROBABLY TRUE, YES. I’LL DELIVER IT.”

Cool.

Sans shoved another cupcake into his mouth.

[five-wow]

I WATCHED 10.22. HERE ARE SOME THOUGHTS UNDER THE CUT. i promise they won’t all be in full caps, but i feel i should also warn you that this was not proofread.

the episode is starting! it has started. the start has started.

lots of flashbacks from 10.21 with VERY dramatic music in the background and it’s very much working on me. EMOTIONS.

oh my gosh we’re now getting a flashback (a new one, not “previously on”) to wo fat and victor hesse planning some evil shit with daiyu mei serving them tea and it is EVEN MORE DRAMATIC than the previously on was. i am IMPRESSED. also maybe laughing a little bit, but in a way where i’m genuinely enjoying the extreme “LOOK, THIS IS BAD” of it, gosh.

fun way to remind us of how it all started, with these two planning anton’s extraction! they get to show us bits and pieces from the pilot while we still get something new.

wo fat: “blood. is blood.” hmmm, the show seems to want us to think he has a point but i’m mostly amused this is coming from the ultimate bad guy because yes, that seems about right. (hashtag you don’t owe people anything just because you’re related to them, shuddup.)

daiyu mei looks all shy and awkward when wo fat asks for her input but i’ve decided that’s an act to keep victor underestimating her.

steve and cole are in a car and fjdkfdjk wait catherine is a super code breaker now? idk, she may have displayed some skills that leaned that way in the past, but now she’s suddenly well-known as one of the best in that field even though that’s not even her field as far as we know? i. i don’t mind catherine getting brought up in conversation but this is such an odd way to do it.

“we were together for a buncha years” hahaha, fandom never really knows how to define the start and end of their relationship and it seems steve doesn’t, either.

“she was the one that got away. what’re you gonna do?” well, look sad and frowny while this guy you barely know throws you a somewhat awkward look because you’re suddenly baring your heart to him, apparently! (for real though, i get that people will be upset at this phrasing and i’m sort of thinking this is a lead in to things i won’t like at the end of the episode and that’s bad but for what it’s worth, i don’t mind this at all! she did slip away from him at a time where he thought they were going somewhere else and he’s talking in past tense now.)

cole is worried he ruined steve’s day by bringing up catherine and that’s sweet, actually! seals emotionally supporting seals.

OOF it is TIME for danny to get ABDUCTED. also: i love that steve immediately drops everything, including the very important super secret difficult to arrange meeting to maybe finally get some insight into this cipher that doris left him, to race to wherever danny is in his car. i feel like alerting hpd (or anyone else in five-0 who might be closer) would be a good idea, but it makes a lot of sense for steve to need to Be There himself.

ohhhhh steve continually nearly crashing his truck while yelling for danny but only hearing gunshots over the line is 👌👌👌. THE ANGST. THE TENSION. very good, very good.

the camaro is BURNING. well that’s one way to smack us in the face with the end of an era, damn.

steve is ALSO BURNING because he obviously tried to get inside the car ahhhh.

fjdkf steve calls tani with instruction about cameras and tani asks if everything is okay because he sounds upset and all he says is “danny’s been taken” and that’s how tani an junior find out, poor dears.

steve, instructing hpd: “we’re looking for detective danny williams. you know who he is, my partner, right? we’re looking for him.” YOU KNOW WHO HE IS. MY PARTNER.

steve is already out of breath from sheer stress and he’s just standing around the tech table with the team, my gosh. (I LOVE THIS.)

danny, bloody and chained up and facing his captor, a woman he already knows is very, very dangerous: [makes a joke about exchanging insurance information because they burned his car] (LOVE HIM TOO.)

OOF though, daiyu mei lets danny know she knows he has two kids and the jokes are over because that’s definitely the line with danny, god.

here’s the scene from the one preview clip i watched! i’m really enjoying daiyu mei, by the way. she’s still a totally bonkers way to bring the threat of wo fat back even after he’s dead, but she is genuinely threatening.

“i have the person you care about most in the world” hello yes i’m still yelling about that one and might not stop soon

daiyu mei telling steve not to make the same mistake he did with his father and “allow a loved one to die” is so mean but so good and narratively pretty darn cool.

we’re not even eleven minutes in and we’re already at “come alone, commander, or your friend dies”. [insert that escalated quickly meme]

steve thinks he has zero options except give in to exactly what daiyu mei wants and it’s very unsteve of him but also fits perfectly with the mindset they’ve maneouvred him into over the past few episodes and with DANNY BEING GONE so i like it. i like that steve is very obviously freaking the fuck out.

never though i would say this, but... steve, you should listen to adam. it’s shocking, especially this season, but he is making an actual good judgment.

steve alone in the elevator on the verge of either a panic attack or breaking down crying and curling up into a ball is A LOT.

steve goes to the meeting alone, gets a location and confirmation that danny is alive and then hands over the cipher, and that’s good but also... i mean, for real, if he had just printed some random symbols on a similar piece of paper (maybe even the same symbols but in a different order!) how on earth would daiyu mei have known?

OH. OHHHH. danny does the badass steve-ish thing where he pulls himself up by his shackles to somehow get himself free, holy fuck, yes man.

IT WORKS. knocked out the guard, got the keys, got a gun - damn son. not only do we get worried out of his mind steve, we ALSO get bamf danny, ahhhh.

AND THEN HE GETS SHOT IN THE SHOULDER, which is where all those promo pictures came from obviously, and also means we’re about to tick off the hurt part of h/c in an even bolder font than we already had.

fdjkfdjkfd steve’s litany of comforting little nonsense lines while he’s dragging danny to the car and getting him into it and NOT GETTING BEHIND THE WHEEL BUT STAYING WITH DANNY IN THE BACK is killing me slowly.

fdjkfd steve hugging danny’s bloody face in his lap oh my god

apparently that wasn’t GOOD ENOUGH YET because then they’re at the hospital and steve tells the doctor’s what’s up and they’re about to roll danny away and danny, half dead and according to steve in and out of consciousness, somehow finds the time to try to grAB AT STEVE’S ARM BLINDLY. steve: “hey, i’m with you buddy, it’s okay.” DEAD. NOT DANNY, ME. I AM VERY DEAD.

the entire team is stressed and worried and just dead quiet, watching danny and steve. ohhhh boy.

oh fuck oh fuck steve is praying and red-eyed and furious and telling god “you wanna take somebody? take me. not him, you take me.” and i have a very big massive weak spot for exactly this.

cole comes to find steve to offer to figure out the cipher thing and steve has a very hard time giving a single flying shit and then HANDS COLE HIS GUN. welllll. just letting go of stuff they never would have normally left and right, here. i was kind of expecting steve’s badge to follow.

tani has a lot of good worried moments and i love that.

danny is out of surgery!!! steve gets to see him!!!

oh GOD we get a sad version of all for one while steve is in danny’s hospital room and grabs danny’s hand and i am. oh. oh. not okay.

STILL ONLY JUST PAST THE HALFWAY POINT OF THE EPISODE.

it’s honestly kind of weird that cole has this much screentime (i know he was supposed to be back for the season 11 that will never happen, but with the way things turned out that’s not very relevant anymore in story), but i mind it less than i thought i would have. i like him, and i’m glad he has quinn with him now, because i always want more of her.

danny wakes up and his slightly loopy conversation with steve has me fjdkfdjkfd. d: [says you’re supposed to be happy when a patient wakes up] s, like he might still be about to cry: “i’m happy.” d: “yeah? yeah, me too.”

steve is hurting and blaming himself for everything (very in character) and danny tells him he’s already annoying and that if he had a dollar for every time steve saved his life he’d have like twenty bucks (also very in character) and i’m glad for that bit of comic relief and they need it, too, but somebody also needs to give steve a good shake until the thought that this is on him leaves his head. if anyone except daiyu mei is responsible here, it’s doris. blame doris, jfc.

danny, after nearly dying and only just waking up in the hospital, while he still has trouble speaking: “put [the call steve is getting] on speaker, would you, i’m bored.” more jokes! but it also makes me go fjdkfdjk because you will not convince me that this is not danny, extremely injured, still trying to take care of steve by distracting him from all the misery they’re in.

fjdkfd OKAY SO. plot stuff: the cipher translates to coordinates that apparently lead to the place where the mcgarretts thought doris was buried. steve says he knows the place because his dad used to take him there and ? because i always thought john sent his kids away pretty soon after doris died so he can’t have had much time to visit her grave a lot with them, but also just, the drama of it, wow, doris. send your son an encrypted message that sends him to your fake grave, why don’t you.

jfkdsjlfksljfds the mcgarretts have a family mausoleum now, apparently, omfg. and there was still a space with doris’s name on it? even though they’ve known for how many years by now that she was still alive oh my gosh

cole is along for the ride to doris’s fake grave and steve keeps dropping these little nuggets from his family history and cole keeps (rightfully!) looking a little confused and/or alarmed, poor guy, hahaha.

daiyu mei is running full tilt and doing some mad parcour shit in a suit and what looks like high heels and there is a whole action scene here with lots of players and constant shooting and some one-on-one fighting, but i am fully distracted by the shoewear.

oh, false alarm, probably! not quite high heels, just something ballarina like with a very tiny heel. that’s better.

fjdkfjdkfd OOF daiyu mei nearly kills steve, steve gets the upper hand, daiyu mei says some things and we’re given another flashback to wo fat and victor hesse and this time also john when he was held hostage, and suddenly we’re told he’s not surprised that doris had a secret son (wo fat) and that he suspected her death was staged.

OH MY GU==fdj

okay so those were typos but i’m LEAVING THEM because “whatever happens next, don’t tell my son. it would be too hard on him.” HELLO JOHN, FUCK YOU JOHN. he wanted??? to keep this secret??? from steve??? and also he doesn’t even acknowledge that he maybe has more than just a son. maybe there is a person called mary out there somewhere? might ring a bell, if you think about it long and hard.

wo fat: “you’re a good man, john mcgarrett.” i really don’t know if we’re supposed to agree with things wo fat says but he’s mostly voicing the opposite of what i feel this episode.

daiyu mei to steve: “you are your father.” oh gosh. oh no.

ahh, here’s a point where cole’s presence really starts to take away from other characters. he shows up to steve and daiyu mei’s confrontation to back steve up, and that obviously should have been any other character that we’ve known for way longer and have way more attachment to (junior! that would have been so good, or maybe lou, who’s also been here for seven years, or tani, who keeps worrying), especially, very very much especially when steve goes “book her, cole”. that’s just confusing, too. so far the cole and steve parallels have been thrown at us and now he’s suddenly in danny’s place.

32 minutes out of 42 and we’re at “one week later” and steve hopping through his garden to get to the beach chairs where danny is sitting. this is good but worrying for how early it comes.

danny says he misses the very nice nurse who brought him jello and steve tells him not to confuse a caregiver for someone who cares and danny goes “yeah? you know jealousy is not uh, pretty on you.” and then they’re both awkwardly quiet for a moment. dear lord.

AND THEN THINGS WENT PEARSHAPED. danny: “you all packed?” my heart is sinking fast. maybe i should just quit here and leave it at danny telling steve jealousy is not pretty on him (which implies other things are pretty on steve - let’s get back to that).

steve to danny, who is talking up hawaii (which is of course very good): “who are you?” i am having FLASHBACKS to junior asking tani that exact same thing just a few episodes ago.

danny seriously questions steve’s decision to just up and leave hawaii a bunch of times and yes, danny, good, grill him. this is a stupid plan.

danny: “you know, it don’t feel like it’s gonna be okay. it feels like- my main dude is leaving me.” HI STEVE. MAYBE DON’T. MAYBE DON’T GO. MAYBE DON’T HURT DANNY.

“you got a phone, right?” we’re seriously at that point. we are. seriously at that point. wow.

steve forces danny to get up to give him the frigging tenderest, dopily smiliest hug and it is so very sweet yet so very wrong.

“I LOVE YOU, MAN.” / “I LOVE YOU TOO.” THEY DID NOT YELL THAT BUT I AM BECAUSE THIS IS ALL I’VE WANTED FOR TWO YEARS and now it’s under these circumstances which ugh BUT I AM STILL HYPED. THEY GOT TO SAY IT AGAIN. GOOD. FUCKING GOOD.

“don’t make me come looking for you” danny says after he sits back down and without another word steve starts walking away and then he stops and looks back and catches danny looking over his shoulder but quickly looking away again and holy fucking damn if this isn’t how stories go when they try to tell us that two characters shouldn’t be parting because they don’t want to. turn around, steve. it’s so easy.

EDDIE. my gosh, ANOTHER blond guy who loves steve to pieces and who steve Should Not Just Leave, wtf.

eddie gets an i love you too and then a kiss and my heart! is having a hard time today!

oh LORD there’s a knock at the door and it’s the whole entire team and lou!!! is making me cry!!! and everyone whispers how much steve means to them at him while they’re hugging him and fjdkfd what. why is he leaving! it’s starting to sound like a worse decision by the second.

i could cry at all of these goodbyes seperately but right now i am also crying at tani immediately hugging noelani when she joins the pile of people who have said goodbye. ohhhh.

EVERYONE IS CRYING. not cool. VERY UNCOOL. also, honestly, i love that danny got to say goodbye seperately and it’s fitting that he just can’t watch steve actually walk out the door but also... he should have been here, gdi. now there’s this huge emotional team moment and he’s absent and it’s weird.

steve boards a plane and sits down and his phone beeps and it’s danny texting him “miss you already” and i cannot believe this is actual canon and had to pause to kind of laugh/gasp for air for a little bit.

and catherine shows up! i’ve been braced for this so i’m not surprised and it’s less bad than i thought in many ways but also. they talk about cath driving danny’s car and steve says they can’t have danny williams driving his own car and if that’s true, then why the hell are you leaving, steve. what are you doing to danny? (also. uh. danny’s car kind of went up in flames? he has a new one already? i. what.)

cath asks if steve is ready and they hold hands and steve turns to look out the plane window and smiles and that’s very suddenly it.

you know what? you know what, for the most part, i absolutely loved this. i was prepared for VERY BAD THINGS and i don’t enjoy steve leaving at the end at all and i have MANY NOTES on how things could have maybe ended even better but i. i am okay with this. i am okay with this! that is honestly more than i thought i would be able to say and i’m just VERY RELIEVED right now.

as for the show ending with steve and cath... that was weird, but... he also held danny’s hand this episode and that was supposedly platonic, and steve and cath did not suddenly have a big romantic kiss or get engaged, so i am choosing to take this as a platonic reunion with a person from steve’s past he still cares about, someone who travels a lot and was in hawaii to break that code and therefore this makes sense. he leaves with cath, and then, in a few weeks’ time, he comes back to danny (the person he cares about most in the world), and canon just, y’know, forgot to mention that little tidbit. it happens.

anyway, i had EMOTIONS and i still need to let all of this sink in and i hope you’re all doing okay after this whirlwind of a thing and ahhhh, it is so very weird that it’s over now. 💖

[oasisofgalaxies]

Its raining where I am so...

Grab two characters and have them walking in the rain. Or have the walking in the woods and the trees are a little canopy protecting them from the rain.

Idk

     Gravel crunched beneath their boots as the two walked through the empty park. A dark grey sky above sent heavy drops of rain down on the earth below as thunder rumbled in the distance. The water pattered down on the umbrella protecting two people from the storm. There was no one in sight, who would want to be out here in this weather anyhow? These two, apparently. 

     One of the pair broke the silence between them, “Do you ever think about how old the rain is? Do you think dinosaurs saw this? What if a dino like.. pissed in this or something. Gross.”

     “Mike, what the genuine fuck are you talking about. Please don’t tell me you ate the “bad” icecream again, I swear to god-” The one holding the umbrella, Heap, took a moment to bonk the handle on Mike’s head as he cackled. 

    The icecream dealer ran a hair through faded blue hair, slightly damp from the rain, “I may have had a spoonful on accident-”

     “MIKE!”

     “LOOK, I THOUGHT IT WAS VANILLA-”

     “I’m getting you a fuckin label maker for your birthday, you need it man.” Heap spun the umbrella as they walked, watching the droplets whip out into the air. 

     “Oh yeah, my birthday! I think it’s soon actually, don’t know when though. Should probably make a cake soon, ooo I need to start thinking of decorating id-” 

     “Mike.”

     The man blinked and stopped walking, tilting his head a bit at the interruption, “Yeah, what’s up?”

     “Buddy. Your birthday is today. You forgot again, didn’t you?” Heap was still fidgeting with the umbrella as he tapped his foot against the path. The rain pattered down around them as another roll of thunder rumbled. Closer this time.

     “Oh.” Mike quietly realized that yes, it was his birthday. He was... twenty two today, right?, “I- I did forget again. Oh shit.”

     Heap shook his head. With his free hand he grabbed his friends arm and started tugging him down the path. Mike, startled by this exclaimed, “Hey, what gives?”

     “Shuddup nerd, we’re getting pizza and then we’re robbing a gas station. No buts.”

     To be honest, Mike wasn’t sure if he was joking about that last part or not. But honestly? Getting pizza late at night during a thunderstorm sounded like a great way to spend your just-realized birthday. As the two walked (or dragged, in Mike’s case) thunder rolled high above their heads. The rain still fell down in sheets, a melody on the earth.

[donutpwns]

ToTS AU Idea

So I was going through my WIPs and found this. Kinda like it so figured I’d share it. Who knows, if people like it I might write more, IDK.

There's a terrible stench, burnt fabric mixed with cooked meat; it nearly turns his empty stomach. There's a hissing sound that he can barely hear underneath Stanley's scream of pain, his brother's face in anguish. Instantly Ford regrets everything, even as he still hugs his journal to his chest. “Stanley! Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, are you--"

The fist swings wide, missing him by a good foot, and then Stanley's knees hit the ground. His brother is breathing heavy and gripping his shoulder. The air still stinks of cooked meat. Ford tries to go closer, that burn needs to be treated after all, but freezes when Stan curls up on himself and screams, “Don't touch me!”

Ford stumbles backward until he feels the door at his back. He slides down the surface of it until he's seated on the floor, across from his brother with his journal hugged to his chest like a lifeline. There are the sounds of his machines running but it's all quickly becoming white noise as he listens to the way Stan is sniffling quietly. Reminds him of the sounds he used to hear coming from the bottom bunk when he was a kid.

Don't tell Pa. Real men don't cry. 

“Stanley?” he tries quietly and earns a watery, red-rimmed glare in return. He swallows and readjusts his grip on his journal. “We...need to get that cleaned up.” his throat burns and his limbs were starting to feel heavy as the burst of adrenaline began to fade.

Stan sniffs again and scrubs his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “It doesn't matter.” He looks away and grabs the edge of the console to try and pull himself to his feet. “Just give me the stupid book. I'll disappear and you'll never see either of us again.”

Ford drops the journal when Stan immediately collapses again, moving to his brother's side. Stan shoves him back but Ford still catches a look at the inflamed skin on his back, pattern matching the side of his console perfectly. Something in Ford locks up knowing that he did that. There's a boot print on Stan's shirt to prove it.

You're the older one, Stanford. You’ve got to look out for your little brother. 

If their ma could see them now. “I-I’m sorry, Stanley, I didn't mean--"

“Shuddup.” Stan slumps back against the console at an angle, keeping pressure off his burnt shoulder and avoiding the glowing mark. His eyes are all red and watery, the dark circles under them standing out more now that Ford was actually paying attention. How long had it been since Stan had gotten proper sleep? How long had it been since Ford had? “You don't care, so shuddup.”

Ford returns to his spot against the door, journal at his hip; his hand moves to the cover without him really thinking about it. Suddenly he remembers just how tired he is. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Stan was the one in the wrong, what right did he have to be mad? The old anger mixes with the fresh guilt; Stan's breathing is heavy and he refuses to look at Ford again, his face streaked with dirt cut through by wiped tears. Ford was angry but he didn't want to hurt his brother any worse than a punch.

Maybe this was a bad idea, asking Stanley here. Thinking that for once he would just listen and do as he was told. Ford didn't have time to worry about him. Long gone was the days of bandaging Stan's wounds and comforting him. Though Ford had never been the direct cause of Stan's hurts, indirectly at worse.

Still, he wants to clean up the burn and bandage it, wants to let Stan sleep on his couch to heal. Wants to offer him food he knows he doesn't really have at this point. Wants to do something for the crumpled up man that used to be so big in his mind. He doesn’t have time to deal with ten years of emotional baggage topped with a fresh burn but still, his little brother is right there.

And somewhere around here, perhaps even in this very room, was Bill, watching and waiting for Ford to slip up. The thought of it twists Ford's insides more and there's the sudden thought of clarity that Bill knows about Stan now. He always knew, of course, the way that Bill knew everything, but he doesn't know that Ford still cares this much.

Ford didn't know he still cared this much. He doesn’t have time to care right now though. He should just let Stan leave; he could find another solution for the book even if his mind was fizzling at the mere idea of trying to think of a new idea. Leave it to his brother to make things so much more complicated than should even be possible.

“Stanley…” he doesn’t know what to really say, torn between wanting to tell Stan to go and asking him to stay. He stands once more when Stan tries to get back up and ignores his twin’s weak attempts to push him back. He’s not strong enough to actually lift his brother, not running on fumes and six hours of sleep four days ago, but he was at a loss. He still wants to yell and demand to be listened to, to force Stan to see his point, but even as short of a spat as they’d had was enough to further drain him.

Stan didn’t speak but allowed himself to be propped up, even getting an arm around Ford’s shoulders. Ford leaned into him despite himself as they moved back to a long-unused cot in the back of the room. Both of them practically fell back onto the thin mattress, though Stan very quickly scooted to put nearly a foot between them.

Ford swallowed thickly, hugging his journal to his chest as they sat in painfully uncomfortable silence. Despite himself, he looked around the room, wary of seeing the dreaded slitted eye staring at them. The room is quieting down as the machine begins to shut itself down. He watches the glowing symbol that begins to dull and, with a lurch to his empty stomach, can see what is clearly burnt flesh stuck to the side of the console.

He needed to work. He needed to figure out what to do next, what to do to stop Bill, how to clean up Stan’s burn. Did he even have any bandages left? He can’t remember if there was any left after the last time Bill had taken a boxcutter to his arm. Ford finds himself leaning forward as his mind swirls with all the things he needed to do. “Stanley…” he mumbles and tries to remember what he was going to say. Everything was so heavy.

He doesn’t hear Stan’s response as his eyes fall closed and his chin rests against his chest.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

If you’re still doing the writing prompt thing I have this Destiel headcanon that Dean figured out he could lift up Castiel and he does it all of the time just to annoy him.

Here you go! It’s kinda long, and more fluffy than it was supposed to be Idk but I hope it’s up to your liking, fren!

***

The first time he does it, he has a very valid reason to. Cas has a broken femur, and a cast, to show for it. Thankfully, it isn’t a femural shaft fracture, and doesn’t require surgery. He’d broken his leg in the minor accident he’d had with a car - he was the pedestrian - and Dean had made sure to yell at the twenty three years old driver until the kid swore to never overlook a traffic light again. Anyways, they’d taken Cas to the hospital, and after a small procedure and a couple hours in the hospital - they’d let him take his boyfriend home.

Of course, at that moment, neither Dean nor Cas had remembered that they live in a first-floor apartment, and due to the stellar landlord-tenant relationships, the elevator was often down.

“The doctor told you to,” Dean snapped, when he saw Cas trying to put weight on his injured leg. “Not do that very thing, Cas!”

“Well,” Cas defended. “I’ve gotta, Dean! Because I can’t exactly teleport to our bedroom, so -”

“- shuddup.” Dean finds himself marching up to Cas, far too up in his personal space to not be about to do what he’d been debating with himself about doing. “You’re not a wriggler, are you?”

“Is that a sex term?” Cas threw back, smirking.

Dean ignored that - still sorta pissed off at Cas for coming in front of a slightly-speeding car just because he thought everyone on a city road was as law-abiding and respectful of zebra crossings like he was. Cas should’ve known better than to do something like that - what if, in his stupidity, he’d broke something more than a leg!? The thought pained him, and made him even more mad at Cas.

“I’m gonna pick you up and take you to our house.” Dean declared, equally for his benefit as for Cas’s. Cas blinked at him like he’d gone paranoid, and Dean swallowed, to absorb even more of the determination he knew he should feel.

Half-limp, and unable to move back, Cas shook his head firmly. “You’re not doing that, Dean.”

“Are you planning to set up camp in the lobby?” Dean bristled. “Because I’m not into the idea of going to a motel or back to the hospital!”

Cas was silent.

His eyes were a show of vulnerability, suddenly shining with the realization of being a liability. That very moment, it struck Dean, and it was like a kick to his stomach. He was hurt, and Dean was being an asshole to him.

“Cas, babe,” He put his hand on the shorter man’s spine, comfortingly. “You worried I’d drop you..?”

Cas looked at him hesitantly. “I know you wouldn’t..but what if we both fall and fracture our hips or something?”

Dean scoffed, dismissing the thought. “Will you just lemme do this, Cas?”

Cas pursed his lips, and there was indecision on his face - which was better than the definite refusal before and the cue for Dean. He knew his boyfriend well enough to know that Cas wouldn’t ever say a ‘yes’ outright to an idea like this, but him considering it meant - in Cas-tongue - that Dean was allowed to do this.

He grinned at Cas, readied himself, and keeping his eyes trained on Cas the whole time, picked him up bridal-style, with a hand under his neck and the other under his thighs.

Cas gasped, as Dean lifted him up, automatically clinging to Dean in a hurry that Dean found more endearing that he’d ever tell Cas.

“Ready?” Dean teased, before beginning to climb the stairs.

Cas almost screwed his eyes shut, until when he didn’t, and kept staring at Dean’s face as he carried him up. “We’re actually doing this.” He muttered, looking down at the stairs for the first time - careful not to move any more than he had to to inconvenience Dean.

Of course it wasn’t easy. Cas was six feet of running muscles (and concentrated snark, but Dean was hoping that was weightless or something). Dean may be taller, but even he knew that Cas looked bigger than him because of how he was built. But Dean was determined. They didn’t even really quiver.

Dean, aware of his own strength, put him down on the first landing, for a few moments. Cas still leaned on him, but Dean was very much okay with that, in spite of the fact that he was panting.

“You’re strong,” Cas informed Dean, coyly, when Dean picked him up again - with way more expertise than before, instantly adjusting his hands in the space behind Cas’s knees (careful to avoid the plaster) and the other holding up his upper body.

“Damn straight.” Dean replied smugly, resisting the urge to blush, and directing all of his attention to getting Cas to their doorstep first. “Get down, Cas, you’re home.” He let him on his feet, still half-steady, and began to unlock the door to their apartment with his keys.

Cas was grinning wide, at him, when he straightened and the door swung open.

“What?”

“I’m regretting the cast on my leg right now, because otherwise, I’d ask you to carry me to the bedroom.” Cas raised his eyebrows, giving him that look which made him weak in the knees -

Which was not the way to go right now, with one of them unable to walk right now.

Dammit, Cas.

“You enjoyed it, huh?” Dean prompted instead, not picking him up, but tucking Cas’s arm around him and supporting him as they walked into their living room. They both landed almost at the same time on the familiar couch they’d chosen together, at the time of moving in, almost two months back.

“I wish I could show you how fun it was,” Cas replied, without a speck of suggestion in it. “I could lift you too, you know.”

“You know I’m taller than you, right?” Dean couldn’t help the note of pride.

“You can lift me up two flights of stairs, and you think I can’t -” Cas narrowed his eyes at him, but there was a smile on his lips. “You clearly haven’t realized all the benefits of dating another man, Dean.”

Dean smirked. “Don’t promise me stuff you can’t deliver, Cas. At least not rightaway.” Cas frowned. “Well, I suppose I’m also supposed to get food and everything now that you’ve rendered yourself unpotable,” He smiled fondly at Cas, who huffed in annoyance. “So, my cooking or takeout, babe?”

*

The memorable next time, they’re in the middle of an argument. It’s a goddamn funny argument too, because Cas is hell-bent on not sleeping yet, and Dean will not let that go.

“Fucking 48 hours, Cas!” Dean yelled, “I’m not here for a weekend, and you don’t even go to bed!”

“I told you that I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Cas bristled, looking away from Dean. He looked like he wanted to use the ’but I dozed off on my desk enough times’ line again, but Dean was glaring at him too hard. “And if you’d stop freaking out about my sleep schedule for a moment, I’ve gotta finish this paper!”

“When’s the last date?” Dean clenched his fists, and hissed through his teeth.

“Thursday.”

“Today’s a Monday, you complete -” Dean lost it, and began to march towards his annoying boyfriend, who obstinately took a step back. He stood in front of Cas, inches away from his beautiful goddamn face, adorning an annoying frown.

“Are you planning to kiss me to sleep?” Cas rolled his eyes. “Because I’d like to see you try.”

“Nope.” Dean shot back, hella serious. “But I will carry you to bed.”

Cas narrowed his eyes, like that didn’t make sense - unless something must’ve clicked in his head, and he raised his eyebrows. He stole a glance at his computer, the word document of his paper for college open. He turned back to Dean, swallowing. “What?”

“You know what.” Dean’s voice was more level, but he was still exasperated with Cas. “I can do it, and I will, Cas.”

“Fine.” Cas bit his lip. “Carry me.”

Dean was slightly taken aback at the change of heart, but he also knew that he’d not seen Cas since friday and wanted to be close to him - would’ve made it much easier if he’d slept human hours, but still.

Without a word, Dean bent and picked Cas up with a flourish. It was still hard to do it, but at least he knew all the correct ways to make it more comfortable for them both.

Cas, this time, wrapped his hands around Dean’s neck, beaming. “Hello, Dean.”

“Come on, you sleep-deprived idiot.” Dean muttered, deliberately bouncing on his heels before walking towards his bedroom.

“This is unbelievably hot.” Cas told Dean, burying his face in Dean’s neck, and making Dean swear under his breath because goddammit.

“I know, right?” He joked, instead of making a lewd comment like he really wanted to - because believe it or not, Dean had that level of self control when it came to his boyfriend’s health. They reached the bed in no time, and Dean practically let go of Cas once he reached the memory-foam mattress - one of the loves of his life.

Cas, making a content little sound in his throat, began to make himself comfortable - for all his bite against this, literally five minutes back.

Sometimes, especially as a twenty four year old in college, you just need your bed to remind you how much you actually want to sleep.

Cas was already in just a ratty tee and pyjamas, so Dean stripped down to his boxers and joined Cas on the bed, who, for all his stillness and adorable sighs, was still awake.

“What else d'you need to sleep?” Dean teased.

“I was just thinking,” Cas returned, turning around to face Dean who was lying on his back, and wrapping an arm around his middle.

“About how awesomely strong I am, for being able to carry my big, grumpy boyfriend around?” Dean suggested.

“I’m not big.” Cas muttered, drowsily.

“You are, in all the ways that matter.” Dean chuckled at his own joke, because Cas was too asleep to react to it anymore. Fucking finally.

Dean carded his hands through the sleeping man’s hair, comfortable in everyway ever, and began to drift off to sleep himself, even feeling a little proud of himself.

*

Of course, those were the good two times. Followed by a number of bad times too. Once Dean realized that he could carry Cas around, he began to do it more freely.

There was a certain thrill in picking Cas up when they kissed, and an equal thrill in seeing the annoyed frown on his face on the Sunday mornings when Dean picked him up and landed him on the kitchen chair so that he had company while he cooked breakfast.

He carried him to bed when he fell asleep on the sofa, and Cas would regularly wake up bitching that there was a reason he napped on sofas, so that he could wake up due to the factor uncomfortability, and resume his work - and that by carrying him to bed like this, Dean was disrupting his work schedule too.

The number of 'pick you up’ puns were endless, once Dean discovered the joys of that. Cas must also enjoy it too, because he didn’t exactly laugh at all of Dean Winchester’s lame jokes, but he practically fell over laughing when Dean uses an old and tried one.

But he also knows that it annoys Cas most of the time now, but that’s part of the charm, really.

Cas swears that he’s gonna put on weight so that Dean can’t carry him around, randomly. Dean does him one better and says that he’ll restart going to the gym to sustain his newfound ability, and eat in just as much increased quantity as Cas says he will for the purpose.

One evening, when Cas remembers that he’d once told Dean he could pick him up too, he acts on it. Its almost easier for him, which is annoying for Dean - but Cas was right. In his previous 22 years of being in the closet, he’d clearly missed out on the opportunity of this. None of the chicks he went out with could’ve pick him up like this, or even been into the weird idea.

Then there’s the time that Dean wins an argument at Wal-Mart, when he threatens to pick Cas up - which is one of the weirdest things that he’s ever done, but Cas is laughing just as hard as he was taken aback - and that settled the debate on frozen meat.

So yeah. There’s a lot of times Dean does it, purely to annoy Cas. And it works like magic and that’s amazing.

But then there’s the really awesome times too, where Dean gets to actually fucking dramatize the line, 'carry you over the threshold of the altar of our marriage’ or something before Cas swears at him to shut up and start kissing him already, and he was getting impatient to be dehymenated as a wedded man or some shit Dean doesn’t remember because then they started making out.

Their honeymoon, close to Dean’s 27th birthday, is the only time Dean’s actually close to dropping Cas - but Cas has only himself to blame because he began to kiss Dean while in the middle of the act - and forgive him for not being completely stable on his feet whilst necking your husband.

And then there’s all of the times when they’ve put their daughter to bed, and Dean has insisted on carrying Cas to bed after a few moments too - a ridiculous gesture but greeted with annoyed grins and half-meaningful rolled-eyes.

So, there. Dean Winchester could pick Castiel up, and he does it often. Castiel can pick him up too, but he knows Dean loves it so he lets him do it. And most of the reason Dean does it, is because Cas either melts in his hands and goes all fluffy and clingy - or he snarks at him mid-air and yells for Dean to get over this phase, or argues that he’s a grown man who doesn’t want to be carried around like a fucking baby.

Dean has a good argument to that, especially when Cas looks at him with that crease in his forehead and hint of a scowl, even while he’s hiding a smile. “No offense, Cas, but without your degrees and computers, you’re kinda like a baby in a trench coat.”

*

I actually liked this one! Thanks for the prompt very much, dear anon!! Tagging @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @all-or-nothing-baby @styggtroll @notyoursweetbaboo @moderatelypanickedbisexual@telefunkies @adventurous-blob @crack–attack Thanks for reading!! Edit: If you feel like it, please leave a comment. Kinda need it somedays. Have an awesome day!

[matildaverse]

Dummies guide to... Nygmobblepot!

❓= Riddler

🐧= Penguin

Season 2

- ❓ undressed 🐧 also there was only one bed in the apartment? They shared it!!!!!

- They sang tunes and murdered people like an old married couple??

- PHONE CALLS ™️ [even Lee thought ❓ was on the phone to to his partner!!]

- Jim “what’s the nature of your relationship with 🐧 ???” ❓ stops to think then 💔 says friends [yees I realise it’s because ❓ was put on the spot but he was still sad!]

- ❓ asks 🐧 if there is anything he can do for him when he’s at GCPD? He was 💯% ready to smuggle 🐧 outta jail??? Where HE WORKS

- ❓ makes mental checklist of what 🐧 asks him to do (and I’m pretty sure he kept his word)

- ❓ is ecstatic to see 🐧 when he is released from Arkham Asylum (crazy jail)

- ❓ rejects 🐧 after he is released from Arkham because he is busy and 🐧 has changed

Season 3

- 🐧 visits ❓ in Arkham, gave him sweater and cookies and found the most difficult puzzle box he could to gift 🎁 ❓

- ❓ knows how to make origami 🐧. Is so apologetic about rejecting him

- 🐧 talking to you is keeping me sane or something...

- 🐧 eat 🐠

- 🐧 knows ❓ suit size “I had to guess” da heck you staring at him??

- ❓ is like bruh you gotta win this election honest .🐧 : love you but nah I’m not good enough now shuddup

- ❓ *love riddle*

- *❓ reprises love riddle* *🐧 answers it* omg the PEOPLE LOVE ME . ❓ looks disappointed 😔 for a split second like “yah sure the people not me hahhahahahah”

- ❓ reaches out to protect the statue of 🐧 mummy from blowing up cause he knows 🐧 cares about it

- Husband moment ™️ - ❓ cleans 🐧 shirt sleeve after 🐧 spilt wine on it and 🐧 calms down around him but is also very open about his problems and insecurities.

- ❓ stands in front of 🐧 when butch attacks. Gets choked! Cue:

[In this scene 🐧 lets go of ❓for a split second in which ❓grasps quickly on 🐧 collar. They feel safe with each other 🥰]

- ❓” I hope you know 🐧, I would do anything for you.”

- The hug that we ALL know was gonna be a kiss like c’mon!! 🐧 had to physically push ❓ out of the way to hug him!!!

- 🐧 falls in love with ❓(canonically)

- 🐧 attempts to confess. ❓ looks a upset when 🐧 goes oh I forgot as if he kinda knew what was up.

- ❓EXTREMELY apologetic about not finding Butch (the guy who betrayed 🐧)

- 🐧” I would be lost without you”

- 🐧 basically arranges a date!!! ❓is down for it but gets distracted by Isabelle (an unhealthy relationship)

- “I understand that you’re meant to wait 24hours before filing a missing persons report buT SIR I AM THE MAYOR”

- Basically every 🐧 scene when ❓ is with Isabelle

- ❓didn’t figure out 🐧 killed her when that was LITERALLY HIS OLD JOB (love made him blind???)

- ❓love is about sacrifice! You didn’t love me cos you killed my gal pal!

- 🐧 actually agrees with him. 🐧sacrifices himself for ❓(even though he tried to murder him???)

- ❓ wth am I supposed to do now??? Panics and shoots 🐧 anyways (suppressing his feelings much)

- ❓ forces hallucinations of 🐧 to keep him for a little longer... 😭😭😭 nobody he met could replace 🐧

- Hallucination!🐧 SANG A LOVE SONG!!!!!💔

- ❓tells 🦊 stuff about 🐧. He CASUALLY mentions that 🐧 is the only one that understood him!

- calling each other names (hairpulling)

- Was that the only plan you had ❓to escape jail???

^You don’t have to hold him like that????

- 🐧 freezes ❓and KEEPS HIM 🥶

Season 4

- ❓cosplays as 🐧 making fun of him in the narrows.

Skip ahead... [I forgot this part]

- Evil❓breaks 🐧outta Arkham...

- ❓helps 🐧adopted son “let’s get ice cream” . ❓is now Martin’s 2nd dad!

- ❓🐧and Lee team up.

- ❓talks to 🐧 like they’re bffs again. *rants about how he had to dress up like and old lady for Zsasz or something???*

- ❓gets tortured and he doesn’t give up 🐧??????

- 🐧saves him. ❓ “you gave up your revenge for me?”

[Context: Sophia Falcons betrayed 🐧 threatened his adopted baby boi (forcing 🐧 to relocate him). 🐧chose to save ❓over killing Sophia which for him is like HUGE (he loves revenge)]

- “I trust you” 🥰

Yada yada.. ❓mildly betrays 🐧 for some reason (later 🐧 forgets it and he hates betrayal it’s like his thing: Rage revenge)

Season 5

- 🐧 saves ❓ life after he been 🔪 🔪 (with the help of a man who TORTURED them both)

- His “I’m going to fix you❓” is soft and sincere (in the 2nd version Idk why but the two times it played it sounded different to moi)

- 🐧names his 🐶 “Edward”

- 🐧 hates whoever 💣 haven! Until he finds out it was❓

- 🐧 *so soft* “ ❓ what have you done” I swear it’s like genuine concern!!!!

-❓🐧 reunite (again) ❓ is 😡 but 🐧 kinda calms him

- ❓: you saved me whyyyy???

- 🐧: “what was I meant to do LET YOU DIE?!” [love you idiot] “...friend...”

- Promise to never stab each other in the back (only the front) as friends 🔪🔪��

- Basically the weedding vows of murder husbands if you ask me but hey I might be biased!

- Oh and they’re holding hands in the leaked pics what kinda friend holds hand not to mention they’re hanging together after 10 YEARS (excluding the 4 years they were frenemies + 1 year acquaintances)

I may be looking into some stuff a little bit but I’m mad and it’s midnight. Maybe I missed stuff???

Side note : gifs are not mine

TL;DR

Penguin canonically loves Ed

The domestic phone calls and convos

THE HUGS (mostly the almost kiss)

Wedding Vows

Ten years time they’re still hanging out!!

[aggressivetapdancing]

Race being your secret admirer HC’s

Race x Reader

Requested by: Anon

“Can you do a hc where you’re a girlsie and you have a secret admirer. (Hint hint! It's race) and maybe on one day race gives a pearl from an Erster as a gift and you start to swoon even harder for your secret admirer. P.S. is it weird that I giggle whenever I see the word pumpkin butt? It just sounds funny ; )”

A/N: Here’s what you asked for bb

- So ever since you became a Newsie you had been getting these little gifts from a anonymous person

- It would be like little notes reminding you how pretty you were, or just simple messages to “smile” or “have a great day”

- And you rlly thought they were cute and sweet

- And every day you’d just be rlly excited to see what your secret friend/admirer would write for you everyday

- The messages got sweeter and sweeter everyday

- And you were just dying to see who wrote you these messages

- MEANWHILE

- Every night, Race would take an extra pape from his bag and write down the little messages you’d be receiving the next morning

- He’d put so much time and effort into making it rlly nice for you bc he loves seeing you get so happy whenever you read it

- He once asked Davey if he could borrow one of his books on poetry so he could write down a cute poem for you

- Davey was suspicious so one night he went to see what Race was up to

- And all he saw was the boi hunched over on his bed scrawling some words down under a rlly dim light then placing it by your bed

- Davey decided to see what the note said and !!!

- The next day, Davey confronted Race about the notes and Race was so so so so embarrassed

- “You like Y/N?”

- “What!? Ha ha! No!”

- “ So.. ‘No mountain, nor sea, no thing of this world could keep us apart, because this is not my world… you are’ was meant for a different Y/N who so happens to also live in this lodging house?”

- “Shuddup.”

- Davey would help Race with his poems tho

- Davey even let Race keep a poetry book

- And Race got the hang of writing some poems on his own

- And then Jack found out about this cute little note thing

- So he teaches Race how to draw small little flowers and roses

- And Race gets the hang of that too

- So your little notes varied from being small poems to sketches of flowers, plants, or sometimes even you

- AND YOU WERE SO IN LOVE OH MY GOSH

- But wait! You thought this was it? No!

- One day, Race decided to finally tell you who the secret admirer was

- So he found a pearl (somewhere idk lmaoo)

- And he found some wire and then fashioned it into a cute little ring

- So he left that and a note saying to “Meet me at the Penthouse at 7:00 to find out who your secret admirer is”

- (Jack let him use the penthouse)

- So timeskip to 7 o’clock and you’re climbing up and

- “Race?”

- “Hello Doll.”

- “Is- is this you?” You’d say and show him the note

- And he’ll just smile and nod

- And you just run up and kiss him

- And kjskajsa

- Your secret admirer was a secret no more

[lemonlilyxx-blog]

Average -Minicat- Part One, Tyler

         “Tyler, honey,” the nurse’s voice seemed to fill the air around us and suck any reaction from me, like a poison of it’s own I was to do whatever she said. It was mind control. Manipulating in it’s tone of false safety, a trick I’ve fallen for too many times.  “Montoya wouldn’t be terribly happy if you didn’t take the month’s testing injections, isn’t that right?”

         “Yeah,” I sorrowfully admitted. “I still say no. My body, my rules.”

         “Well, that could be debated. You are under our command, Tyler. And that command is where you agree to let us do our research, okay honey?” He voice was twisted and wretched, growling deeper and deeper with every word.

         “I want nurse Kelly,” I whimpered. “She’s nicer than you. Where did she go”

         “Nurse Kelly isn’t here, and will never come back ever again.” She hissed, anger suddenly flooding through the blonde’s veins. “Nurse Kelly isn’t coming back for you, or Evan, or Anthony or anybody, now or ever. You hear me?” Her face was twisting into darkness, eyes blue to black, being sucked into a void of nothingness- what it looked like when they injected the chemicals into me the first time. The room was swaying with blackness, heat, death. I closed my eyes, and tried pushing it all away, pushing away my motion sickness from the floor swaying beneath the rolling cot. Then it stopped, and the most spine-chilling voice reached out to me through the white walls that only the nurse and I were in.

         “Tyler, wake up,” Montoya hissed. “Wake up, wake up. Dude!”

 I jerked up and away, smacking my head against something solid, and two pained groans filled the room.

         “Evan, what the hell man?” I asked, slurred with sleep. The Canasian winced slightly while rubbing his head. Either a new bruise or new swelling, hard to tell seconds after it happened.

         “You started screaming again. Was it the, uh..?” Evan began, yet his voice trailed off in fear that when he finished his sentence I would hate him for it. But even he knew I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

         “Yeah, it was. Goddammit, sorry, did I wake you?” I asked.

         “No, I also uh, woke up with nightmares.” He sighed. I nodded, heart full of sympathy. It was what we get for escaping, for knowing the truth behind that lab. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, neither of us knew. But at the moment, it seemed like a curse. One that would creep up on us each day, whether it was the nightmares that haunted us, or being shocked full of fear whenever we saw the logo plastered anywhere and everywhere. Or maybe it was even when we were thrust out onto the playing field when the city was too selfish and dumb to save itself from itself.

         “What time is it?” I muttered, mainly to myself, as Evan flopped down next to me and I rolled over to grab my phone. 5:49 in the morning, I guess eleven minutes off wouldn’t screw me near at all. “Want some coffee?” I asked Evan, who nodded slightly. It was no use trying to go back to sleep now. I quickly made my way out of my bedroom and down the hall, where Evan’s bedroom was wide open for all to see what was inside. His TV had a show I didn’t recognize playing on it, which meant he was probably up hours before me, and finished Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. in less than a week.

         I hopped down the stairs to our apartment and into the small kitchen, quickly brewing up coffee for Evan and I, and setting his mug on the counter. He’d probably fallen asleep in my bed again, too exhausted to manage to his own. It was normal. With the late nights we sometimes needed to pull, and then waking either ourselves or the other up. Our sleep schedule was heroically screwed.

         A few minutes later, Evan clomped down the stairs with his hair a rumpled mess and deep bags under his eyes. He gave me a grateful gaze before grabbing the lukewarm mug off the counter and taking a long swig, before jumping up and sitting on the counter as a replacement for his mug. After another few minutes of relaxing silence, Evan hopped off his ‘seat’ and into the living room, the TV quickly flipping on after and the soft hum of news reporters talking about boring shit as always. Though, from where the TV peaked out from behind the wall, there was a logo slowly flowing by at the bottom of the screen in the text bar. I didn’t focus on what is said. Only the haunting logo. The same one that I had stared at for hours and hours a day, the only thing that kept me from panicking from all the needles being pushed into my sore arms, the beating into obedience, and the glares the other experiments had given me, jealous of my apparent ‘success rate.’. Plastered from coats to mugs to pens and even the wall.

          It was only Evan’s mocking voice that brought me back from the pain of what was once my life, our life. “Tyler, it’s the guy you like,” he teased. Pretending my innocence in confusion, I waltzed into the living room.

         “Huh?” I muttered, sipping the cooling coffee in my mug, hiding my small smile.

          “The news reporter that you always get blushy gushy all over. What was his name, like, Peter or something?”

           “Craig,” I corrected, and Evan’s lopsided smile grew into a large, satisfied grin.It took me a minute to realize I had just completely admitted that I had a thing for him. “Wait no, that’s not what I mean’ta say, uh,” I tried, and failed. It was far too obvious for Evan to stumble away from.

            “Dork,” Evan laughed. “Sit down so you don’t fall over yourself, heart-eyes.” Evan patted the spot next to him, and I flopped down.

            It would be useless to try and argue with Evan about how I didn’t have this crush, how easily swayed Tyler was when he first saw the chestnut hair, and brown eyes that seemed to change to green in an instant. But it’s a lot harder to run into a news reporter at a grocery store than one may think.

s almost ended accent.

             “Damn, Tyler, stop drooling,” Evan laughed, and I hid behind my mug, taking a long sip and ignoring the Canasian.

             “Hey, Evan, I might sneak down there in a bit and see what’s happening around. Y’know?” I breathed.

              “You mean ‘and see how my boyfriend is doing,’ correct?”

              “Shuddup, fucktard.”

              “Love you too, asshole.”

              “Reporting live on the scene at Danville Park, I’m Craig Thompson from TDC News, and will be right back with you after these messages, and talk about the opinions of some of the protesters. Have a wonderful morning.” The screen switched to an ad about some useless brand of orange juice, and I stood up and stretched, grabbing Evan’s empty coffee cup from his hands and bringing it into the kitchen.

                “I might join you too,” Evan sighed from the living room. “I mean, it could be fun. You never really know.”

                “Oooh,” I laughed, “does somebody have a crush too?” I mocked in a sing-song voice. “Who is it, that chick Veronica? Or the guy who probably used to be a porn star, what was his name, Harry? Harry Sparkledick?”

                “Shut up, Tyler,” Evan snapped, but I could hear the blush on his cheeks through his words. “Neither of them.”

I asked, dropping the mugs in the sink and parading back into the living room, where Evan had curled up under a blanket and was staring daggers through the TV.

                “Can we not act like immature middle grade kids?” We both let out a too-exhausted laugh.

                 “Y’know, it’ll depend.”

                 “On what?”

                 “Whether you have a crush or not.” Evan let out a long groan, and I snickered.

                 “Oh look, Tyler,” Evan kicked my side. “It’s your husband.” I sorrowfully admit, I turned to look at the screen. Craig was back talking to a girl wearing a plain white t-shirt and business coat. She looked to be in a hurry.

                 “Do you care to give us your name?” Craig asked politely.

the woman growled, and the reporter suddenly looked extremely nervous, as if this woman was a bomb about to go off. But surely he has had his fair share of assholes, right?

                  “Okay,” Craig cleared his throat. “What’s your opinion on the spectacle about the court case?” His normal voice and initial fear had dispersed.

                  “I don’t understand it,” her voice had gone from snappy librarian to a sickly sweet grandmother with a knife in her pocket, trying to coo her children to eat the cookies. “A man violates a woman, forces her into adulthood, then steals her money.” She shifted the bag slung across her shoulder and I nearly started screaming at Craig to run.

                  “Evan?”

                  “Yeah?”

                  “We need to get down there right now. Right fucking now.”

                  “Wha- Wait why?” He turned to stare at me.

He did as their own conversation went on behind the screen, oblivious to it all.

                    “Tyler I bet she’s just on her way to-”

                     “Evan Fucking Fong, that is the B.C.T.R.F. standing right there for us, right there for us to finally fucking just,” I let out a groan. “Evan we leave now.”

                     “Now, like, now now?”                      “Get the fuck ready now, I’ll grab the car and you grab our things.”

                     “Done,” Evan nodded. Despite knowing that this man would be right by my side the entire time, it still felt like I was going out alone. Alone in a lab of crazy people, only looking to sample my blood and create more of their mutants, and ruin more people’s once average lives.

 Hey look I did a thing that that is idk. Hope you enjoyed???

Oh yeah this is art one it won’t let me do shit to the title y'know

[maximoffdanvers]

Nebula, Lexa, Logan (Wolverine), and Amaya Jiwe

Nebula(contains gotg2 spoilers obvi)

Why I like them: she’s just such a badass and her character has developed amazingly and her personality speaks to me so much i just lOVE HER

Why I don’t: there are no reasons at all

Favorite episode (scene if movie): the scene where she saves gamora at the end of gotg2

Favorite season/movie: gotg2

Favorite line: “you’re the one who wanted to win, but i just wanted a sister.”

Favorite outfit: the one in gotg2 i guess??

OTP: her + happiness 

Favorite Friendship: not a friendship since she’s her sister, but her and gamora’s relationship built up so nicely

Head Canon: she stayed with the guardians at the end of the movie instead of going away on her own and she helps them on missions, yells at the boys with gamora, kicks ass and is just overall the best person on the team imo

Unpopular opinion: don’t really have any

A wish: for her to get the credit she deserves!!

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: IF SHE EVER DIES I WILL KILL A BITCH

5 words to best describe them: i dunno

My nickname for them: i just like calling her nebula tbh

Lexa

Why I like them: she’s powerful and a really great example of a strong female character

Why I don’t: there aren’t very many 

Favorite episode (scene if movie): watch the thrones

Favorite season/movie: s3

Favorite line: “i thought i’d never get over the pain, but i did.”

Favorite outfit: the outfit she was wearing in 3x07…before….yeah

OTP: her and clarke

Favorite Friendship: hers and octavias

Head Canon: she lived

Unpopular opinion: 99% of her fans are fucking annoying and i want them to choke on acid

A wish: that she didn’t have such a shitty fandom so everything didn’t become a shitshow after she died 

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: idk 

5 words to best describe them: THESE ARE COMPLICATED I HAVE NO CLUE

My nickname for them: just lexa

Logan (big spoilers for logan)

Why I like them: he’s one of the characters i grew up with & i love him so much :( 

Why I don’t: one of my faves, again can’t think of something for this

Favorite episode (scene if movie): all of his “go fuck yourself” kind of moments 

Favorite season/movie: logan

Favorite line: “so this is what it feels like.” even though it makes me cry every damn time

Favorite outfit: white tanktop

OTP: him and anna were pretty cute

Favorite Friendship: charles

Head Canon: he lived, went with the kids at the end of logan and him and laura kicked ass together

Unpopular opinion: no clue

A wish: that he didn’t die

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: everything bad has already happened at this point

5 words to best describe them: why is this so complicated for me LMAO

My nickname for them: don’t have one

Amaya:

Why I like them: she’s such a powerful character and she inspires me a lot

Why I don’t: I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT HER SHUDDUP

Favorite episode (scene if movie): 2x13

Favorite season/movie: s2 obvs

Favorite line: “don’t deny the animal. don’t let it control you, either. i can help you. believe me, i know a thing or two about controlling wild beasts.”

Favorite outfit: her outfit in 2x06, along w the black leather outfit in 2x16

OTP: her and sara

Favorite Friendship: her and mick, ray and nate

Head Canon: don’t have any really (but i’m awful with hc’s)

Unpopular opinion: i don’t ship her with nate, ray or mick, i prefer them all as brotps

A wish: let her date a girl

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: DON’T KILL HER

5 words to best describe them: strong, courageous, brave, caring and badass

My nickname for them: just amaya

GIVE ME A CHARACTER AND I WILL ANSWER…