#in my head this does end up being dead tired somehow

[havenshereagain]

DPxDC Idea

Danny working at Wayne Enterprises as some sort of engineer, uses the in-house app for all his blueprints and stuff

He starts getting notes from a coworker in-app, and assumes its this annoying older guy in his department who constantly undermines him because of his age, despite his education and past achievements (i feel like in this AU the Fentons react well to the reveal and they work together on a number of non-lethal ecto inventions that have Danny's name attached to them)

Except one day his coworker mentions never using the app, and Danny suddenly realizes there's only one other TD he could've been arguing with in the notes of the app

[luveline]

I know you’re asking for Spencer fics… While I adore single dad!Spencer… How about some single mom!reader and Spencer? 💕

You and your daughter work your way into Spencer’s life one chess game at a time. fem, 1.3k

It all starts with, “Hello.” 

Spencer looks up, and he finds any word he could’ve said dead on his tongue. You smile at him oddly gentle, and he assumes he’s got something on his face your afraid to point out.

“Hi,” you say, unperturbed by his lack of response. You keep your head ducked but seem friendly enough as you lick your lips. “I don’t know if you’re busy, but I was wondering if you’d play chess with my daughter. You don’t have to say yes, but she’s really polite and she won’t cheat, and she really wants to say hi.” 

Spencer looks behind you, where your daughter stands a ways away pretending not to watch. She could only be three of your years old —if she can play chess, she’s a prodigy. She has on stripy tights and a dress, a vinyl coat open over the top, her hands wringing together. 

“Okay,” Spencer says. 

Your smile is even nicer, then. Relief and thankfulness aimed fully at him. “Thank you.” 

You meander back to your daughter and bend down to whisper instructions too quiet for Spencer to hear. Shy, your daughter shimmies forward, then walks proper steps when you encourage her with your hand behind her shoulder. “It’s okay,” you whisper, “let’s say hi.” 

The chess boards are built into the tables at the park. Spencer sits on one stone stool, and your daughter makes herself comfortable on the opposite one. You kneel beside her without worry, knees on the dirty floor. 

“Hi,” your daughter says. She has a high voice, reedy, like she needs a drink. 

You rub her arm. 

“Hello,” Spencer says. “Have you played before?” 

“Me and mom play.” 

“So you know the rules?” 

“Some,” she says. 

Spencer’s only human. He does think about the horror of being trapped opposite of a toddler for the next half an hour bumbling through the steps, but it’s not as though he has other things to do, and, really, he loves people. He’s scared of talking, that’s all. 

“We play a lot on my phone, where it tells her what moves she can and can’t do,” you say. “But it’s okay. I have practice, I can be the phone.” 

Your daughter laughs like this is the funniest thing on the planet. “You don’t look like a phone,” she says. 

“That’s nice of you, but that’s ‘cos you’ve never seen my wires.” 

She laughs again. 

“I know all the rules, too, don’t worry,” Spencer says. “Are those your pieces? Or we can play with mine?” 

“Sofie has her pieces, it’s okay, we don’t wanna lose yours.” 

You let your backpack slip down your back and unveil a chess board box with sellotaped corners. The sleeve inside is unhurt, and you put it in the middle of the table. Spencer takes initiative and grabs the purple ones. You and Sofie arrange the pink ones in a mirror. 

Sofie is surprisingly good at chess, considering her age. Sometimes Spencer ends up playing against you, your advice murmured in her ear, and every time you smile at him he feels a little nauseous.  

He lets her win, of course. The first few times, at least. Over weeks, you and Sofia occasionally see him in the park playing chess, some days in the middle of a game with someone else, other times alone. Sofie comes up to him increasingly confident to ask for the next game, and Spencer realises he’s somehow made two friends. 

“Spencer!” Sofie shouts, tumbling over the grass bank to stop on the end of the retaining wall bordering the chess tables. You’re just behind her, looking tired. 

“Sofie, hi!” 

Sofie jumps down off of the wall before either of you can stop her. “Spencer, where have you been?” She rockets toward him. He stands, worried she’ll fall flat on her face, but she continues to race toward him until she’s throwing her arms around his legs. “I missed you.” 

“Well, I missed you too,” he says, surprised. He gives her back a tentative pat. “I’ve been learning new techniques.” 

“But where did you go?” she asks. 

“I went to Alaska. It was super cold.”

“Hi, Spencer,” you greet, flushed as you plop down on the stone seat opposite him. 

Believe it or not (easily believable), Spencer didn’t ask you your name the first time you met. Or the second. On the third occasion you met, you actually apologised with too much sincerity and said, “I’m so sorry, I never asked what your name was. I can’t believe it. I’m Y/N.” 

So now you’re introduced, and Spencer has a raging crush on you. 

Spencer grins as Sofie sits on his seat, shuffling over so they can sit together. “What, you’re on my team today?” he asks her excitedly. 

“Yes!” She pats the chess board. “Mom, my pieces.” 

“It’s okay, we can use mine.” Spencer’s are already out on the table. He’d been hoping to see you both. 

“I won’t lose them,” Sofie promises. 

“I might. Where have you been, Spencer? Sof made us come here four times last week, we had to play chess with Melinda.” 

“I was working,” he says. “We’re always going somewhere far away, I didn’t realise we’d be there for so long.” 

“‘Cos he’s a special agent,” you whisper to Sofie. 

She puts a finger over her lips, “Mom, don’t so loud!” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” You nudge a King back onto his square. “Did I blow your cover?” you ask, your voice a rolling murmur.

Spencer holds Sofie’s back reactively as she wiggles on the seat. He has an answer. He should play along —he’s been reading up on how to flirt like he’s not a lonely weirdo and that’s with confidence and running jokes, but the way you’re looking at him stops him in his tracks. 

No one ever mentions the panic of a shared smile. 

“What happens if people find out?” Sofie asks worriedly. 

“Nothing happens, Sofie, I’m the boring kind of special agent where nothing I do is a secret.” He winces at her crestfallen expression. “I’m sorry. Maybe we can have a secret mission together? Me, you, and mom?” 

“Really?” you ask, surprised. 

Spencer nods enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah! Yeah, of course.” 

“Like… dinner?” 

Spencer bites the tip of his tongue, to an immediate sting. It’s not the first time in his life a conversation he’s in has occurred without him: you’re shared smile was you flirting first. His reciprocation, while not intended, has served as flirtation. 

He didn’t mean to do it, but he doesn’t care, he won’t mess it up, “If you want to?” He clears his throat, his voice returning to a more acceptable tenor. “We could go for dinner… tonight.” 

“Tonight?” 

“Not tonight. Not… unless you want to?” 

“We didn’t have dinner yet,” Sofie says helpfully. 

Your gaze falls to the chess board. “I don’t think I’m dressed for dinner. I had such a long shift.” You’re shrugging, minimising yourself. 

Spencer moves his and Sofie’s first pawn. “You always look beautiful.” 

He cannot look at you after he says it, but he doesn’t need to. 

“Mom, you're doing that smile like when Mr. Mailman brings our letters.” 

“Thank, Sofie,” you say. 

Spencer sneaks a glance at your smile. It’s decidedly shy, and if he were to touch your cheek, he guesses he’d find your skin warming. “What does he do when he brings the letters?” Spencer asks. 

You pin him with wide eyes. 

“He says she’s pretty with a big ‘p’,” Sofie whispers. 

“She is pretty,” Spencer whispers back. 

You move a chess piece with a breathless laugh. “Okay, then let’s get dinner after I wipe the floor with you both.” 

Spencer decides now is the appropriate time to reveal that he is very good at chess. He and Sofie win in ten moves. 

[bunni-v1]

yes u did write basically this exact thought but thigh riding (absolutely scrumptious btw) but I cannot stop thinking abt riding ifa n him straight up not helping. just him laying back, enjoying the view and teasing you when you start to struggle

You're So Unfair

U made me do the thing where it was supposed to be short and sweet but ended up being a full thing i hate-love you goldie. I also like totally ignored your prompt by the end, but I know your horny ass is gonna eat this up anyway so i don't wanna hear any complaints.

TW: NSFW; Overstimulation; Mean Ifa; Title corny suck my dick; unedited

Info: Ifa x Fem!Reader (fem bodied, use of “ma’am”); NSFW

MDNI (I'm serious)

It’s literally his favorite thing to do. You always know it’s coming too, wether you’re out with friends or quietly working on something in his clinic, the second his hat hits your head you know what he’s got in store for you. While he does do it just for fun and to see you squirm, there’s a pattern of him getting annoyed by something or someone right before he does it.

It’s a subtle proclamation to you and whoever you’re around that Ifa’s going to ruin you tonight, though you really hope Ororon (and certainly not Citlali) never connects the dots. Ownership, not that Ifa’s all that obsessive about it, but sometimes he’s gotta remind people that you’re taken. Sometimes he has to remind you you’re taken, what with how popular you can be, it’s just precautionary. So, he sets the hat on your head with a smug smirk - sometimes he’ll even drop a hint or two of what’s to come, depending on how annoyed he is with the other person.

In the end, it doesn’t matter, you still end up the same as always. Settled nicely on Ifa’s lap, dick fully sheathed inside rubbing all the right places, and he’s just watching. Hands behind his head, still fully clothed, smiling without a care in the world as you try every tactic in the book to get off. Rolling your hips into him, bouncing, circling your clit with your fingers, playing with your tits, different angles, combinations of all of it… nothing worked as well as he did, and he knew it too. It's why he was so damn pleased with himself, eyes crinkling in delight as you tried to get off by yourself.

“Hard time-“ He begins, cutoff by a sharp glare from you. He pulls his hands out from behind his head to show you he means no harm, the cheeky bastard. “‘f you don’t want my help that’s fine, but-“

You groan, “Ifa if you don’t shut your mouth I swear to the archons you’re a dead man.”

You don’t miss the subtle raise of his brow, not that you can be assed to care much more about his teasing right now. Too hot and flustered, just wanting to get off and go to sleep. You readjusted yourself for the fifth time, back into the original position straddling his waist. Your legs were too weak to support much more than that now, thighs practically shaking from all the effort you'd exerted by yourself. Readjusting gives you a second to calm down, close your eyes, and breathe - maybe if you just started over it would be easier. You knew it wouldn't be, not without Ifa's help, but you didn't get to decide when he was done being an ass.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Ifa's warm hands settle on your thighs, somehow hotter than your own flushed skin. He gives you a little squeeze when you peer down at him, face scrunched up in a warning sneer. He squeezes lightly, showing no harm, and you're too tired to do anything more about it - not that you could deter him in the first place. One last deep breath, your final moment of sanity, and you lean forward to place your hands on his chest.

This position makes his dick press up into you at an angle, rubbing just right against your gummy walls. You use him as leverage, pushing off his chest to aid in your steady bouncing. Back and forth, slow and steady, making sure the drags of your walls were just as painful for him as they were for you. You couldn't tell if it was successful, his face was as relaxed as it always was, an easygoing smile ever-present as he watched your expression. The only reaction you got was the slight flexing of his fingers against your thighs, squeezing and rubbing over the soft flesh in quiet encouragement.

You had no idea how he could remain so calm when you were doing everything in your power to drive him crazy. You were going crazy, he felt so damn good inside you, but it didn't seem to affect him. Not the way you were drooling along his shaft, not the way you were clenching around him, and not even your whimpering was enough to get more than a smirk out of him. It was impossible to get off like this, and you couldn't even get him back for it. No matter how hard you threw yourself down, there wasn't enough. You needed his help, you needed him to just flip you around and fuck you into the mattress.

You bunch the fabric of his dress shirt into tight fists, focusing more on the power of thrusts than the feeling. The wet slap, slap, slap of hot skin on skin sounded in the room. Your body was heating up again, skin red hot with fury to finish, breaths shallow, and head fuzzy in your need. Did he really break you by doing nothing? Archons, he was the worst, genuinely the worst. The buttons on his shirt pop open from your angry fisting, and his eyebrows raise curiously at your renewed vigor, but your mind is far far away from here. 'Just a little further, a little harder, a little more and you can finish' you repeated in your head. Sweet little lies to encourage yourself to keep going.

You don't even feel the hat slowly slipping off your head, nor do you realize Ifa's hands are readjusting themselves. Too lost in your desperation to notice until you feel him readjusting the hat with a firm push on your head. It throws you off your rhythm so badly that you sit straight up again, unfocused eyes looking at him in nothing short of confusion. He takes his time readjusting it, though, ignoring you in favor of making sure his stupid ugly hat is settled nicely on your head. The realization dawns on you slowly, that he was more worried about you wearing his hat than he ever was about what you were doing. Your eye twitches when he settles his hands on your waist, squeezing as if to tell you to continue what he had interrupted.

You don't, though. Your chest is heaving, your mind is barely there, your skin is burning hot, and you have this awful tight knot in your stomach that won't come undone no matter what you do. You'd worked your ass off to fuck yourself against a brick wall, and he was more worried about his stupid hat. You wanted to scream, punch his chest, tell him how much you hated him... but instead, you curled over and cried. You were so overstimulated and tired, it was all you could manage to get out. You needed him so badly and you tried so hard and the only thing that bothered him was his dumb hat.

For all it's worth, that got him to react, sitting both of you up and rubbing your back sweetly. You find it in yourself to punch at his chest lightly, which doesn't seem to bother him much. Not when he takes your face in his hands with an unsure smile - seems you'd really caught him off guard with the tears. Good. He deserved it.

"Why're you cryin'?" He asks with hardly restrained amusement.

You give him another firm punch to the chest, "You're a jerk, you care more about your stupid hat than me."

He laughs at you, "That's what did you in, bro. The hat fallin'?"

"You didn't even care until it started slipping," You accuse hotly.

He scoffs, "I wouldn't say that-"

"I was tryin' so hard 'nd I'm so hot and it hurts so bad," you ramble out your woe, Ifa nodding along like he understood it all. You don't know how long you go for, but Ifa hums along diligently like listening to a petulant child. Soothing you so well that you almost forget he was the reason you were suffering so badly.

When you're more level-headed, he tugs on the brim of the hat to get your eyes on him, "You want my help, or are you done for tonight, darlin'?"

"Please?" You whimper, too softened by him to put up a fight anymore.

He smiles sweetly at you, hands sliding down your back to your hips, "Alright, sweetness, whatever you want."

"Take your shirt of first." You say sharply, already tugging at the offending fabric.

He laughs, helping you work it off without any protest, "Yes ma'am."

Once he is uncovered, he leans back into the pillows, chuckling when you look terrified. He doesn't need to verbally reassure you when he carefully takes your hands and pulls them to his shoulders. You brace yourself there obediently, pouting when he takes a second to readjust his hat on your head, then slides his hands down to your hips again. He gives you one last chance to say no, waiting for your nod before he finally gives you the attention you've been wanting all night.

It's much more than you expected after all the sweet cooing and coddling just a few moments prior. The vigor you'd been fucking yourself with earlier had returned, only now Ifa was in charge. His hands brought your hips down on him at a bruising pace, not giving you a second to collect yourself in the flurry of thrusting. It was good though, much better than the nothing from earlier. The head of his cock was bullying your cunt over and over, dragging against each pleasure point and filling you up perfectly.

You could feel the slick leftover from earlier sticking between the two of you, cool against your rapidly warming skin. It made a slick slopping sound with each harsh thrust up into your aching pussy, a reminder of how badly you'd needed him. The harder he goes the louder it gets and the more your mind fogs up. Your body was weak, limbs shaking as they struggled to keep you held up and in position. The only thing keeping you sane was watching Ifa's expression, understanding now why he liked doing it to you.

His eyes were fixated on your body, sliding up and down, unable to decide where they wanted to look most. From the sticky mess where you're connected, to your tits bouncing in time to his rhythm, down to the way your hips sink from his tight grip. Lip permanently caught between his teeth and eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he looked like an art piece from a fancy Fonatainian art gallery. When he catches you staring, the smirk that lights up his face only seems to make it worse.

Your eyes encourage him to go faster, harder, make you fall apart for him. The heat between the two of you makes you feel dizzy, each movement adding to your building pleasure. This time, though, it wasn't plateauing. It kept going and going, climbing and tightening in your stomach, so close. Your arms give out on you, making you fall forward into Ifa's shoulder. Normally he might pull you up by your hair and make you keep going like that, but it seemed he was spent tonight too. Instead grabbing your ass and slamming himself up into you at the new angle. It offered both of you a tighter squeeze, getting Ifa to make noise for once, groaning with each rapid thrust.

The knot in your stomach snaps all at once, pent-up pleasure slamming into your body all at once. White hot pleasure curls up your spine, making you sob into Ifa's shoulder crying out for the archons loud enough for the whole of Natlan to hear.

You hear Ifa mumble, "Hope Mavuika can't hear our prayers."

He continues to fuck himself up into you, prolonging your orgasm enough that you start shaking. Your body was way too used for him to go at it so hard while you were cumming, but that didn't stop him. When you start begging him to stop, he just presses your face into his shoulder and shushes you with kisses too gently for what he is doing to you right now. You dig your hands into his hair, tugging at it almost as a punishment.

Yet, he doesn't stop, just kisses the side of your head, "Just a little more, I'm close, we can stop right after 'kay."

You shake your head wildly as another knot builds up in your core again, and you know you're going to tumble into another orgasm if he doesn't stop soon. He nods, ignoring your protests as he slips his hands under your thighs to pull you along his member. You're drooling into his shoulder now, voice raspy from how loud you'd been crying. The little knot in your stomach was snapping again as his tip rubbed against your gummy little walls, forcing another orgasm out of you. You clench down around him, pussy determined to end the torture as soon as it could, choking his dick until finally, he buried his face into your shoulder. Muffling his moans through wet kisses along your skin, hands coming up to run through your hair.

You are left basking in the afterglow, chests heaving against each other and hands tangling in each other's hair. Neither of you wants to break the quiet atmosphere built up, enjoying the ache between your legs and the warmth of each other. Ifa, always the stickler for aftercare, is the one who finally pushes you up to a sitting position. He smiles at you when your vision focuses in on him, reaching up to readjust his hat for the final time that night.

"Feeling alright, bro?" He asks quietly.

You nod, a little unsteady, but fine, "You're a monster."

He smiles tiredly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple before gathering you up in his arms and pulling both of you up from the bed. "Would a monster draw you a bath and make you a snack?"

You laugh, "My monster would."

[savagebite]

Breaking up with the toxic cod men

Tw: forced feminization, Gn!reader, manipulation, non con, toxic dynamics, blackmail, threatening murder, guns, and etc. Dead dove do not eat. price uses the term “wife” on reader in a forcibly feminized way. Posted this at 5 in the morning so this might be horrible.

Price:

-Look at you! You finally stood up for yourself! Putting your foot down and telling him you don’t want to be in a relationship with him anymore because of how’s toxic he’s been.

-Remember how I said Price is a really big family guy? How he slowly turns you into his little housewife? Yeah well the wife doesn’t make the decisions in the relationship for him.

-Trys to scare you, throws your phone at the wall because it’s “filling your mind with stupid shit” and “your friends are plaguing your mind”

-Throws you in the shared bedroom and locks you in there until you apologize. When you do he does that cute little smile he does with a big ol’ hug.

Johnny/soap

-After finally realizing he’s literally drugging you and keeping you almost in a lobotomized mindset you tell him you’re done! that you refuse to keep dating him!

-Just straight up fucking ignores you.

-Refuses to acknowledge it, changes the conversation, or just walks away. Takes you so off guard you just give up after awhile.

-If you keep mentioning it he gets extremely annoyed. Will snap and yell at you, degrading you.

“You really think anyone will want you but me? You’re lucky to have me! Stop being a spoiled bitch and shut up”

Simon/ghost

-After a really bad night when he came home from the bar incredibly drunk,along with throwing a beer bottle at your head you finally get the courage to break up with him.

-He’s hung over as hell so you think he won’t have the energy to argue about it. You were sort of right. Instead he pulls out his phone and shows you the many videos he has of taking advantage of you while he was drunk.

-“How would my team like to see my stupid wife/husband getting their hole wrecked? How you’re begging to stop but so obviously wet? What then?”

Gaz:

-When you finally step up for yourself and try to break up with him after years of him manipulating you. Tired of him keeping you from your friends and missing the nights when you go out with friends.

-Flips out, immediately gets in your face and yells at you. Loams over you while slowly backing you into a wall, trapping you physically.

-“Oh so is there another guy? Huh? Felt to bad about cheating on me so you’re breaking up with me? You’re lucky to have me. Your ran through, so you really think anyone will love you like I do?”

-Somehow the day ends with you apologizing to him for being a bad partner while you cry in his lap. He softly caresses you while accepting it.

Makarov

-Somehow senses you slowly start to realize everything is waring off and his “Treat you like absolute shit and then immediately butter you up with love” tactic isn’t working.

-You don’t even say anything other than “we need to talk” before he throws you in a truck and drives you to some secluded place. Throwing you out and pinning you to the ground

-“You’re my wife. You’ve seen to much to be anything else, you either die right here right now or you stay my wife” 

Philip graves

-You finally realize he literally only sees you as a wife and not a person. He expects you to cook you dinner while doting on him when he comes home from work. He didn’t even ask if you wanted that.

-You sit him down and explain how you feel in which he apologizes so sweetly. Oh how stupid he was! He should have thought about you more! Give him one more chance?

-You cave in, giving him one more chance.

-That night he oh so gently wraps his hands around your body, erection pressing against your ass before covering your mouth and with little prep shoving it in. Growling in your ear how he owns you and your his.

-You hear his hand dig in his drawer, praying he was grabbing a condom but instead he pulls out his small revolver. Pressing it against your temple forcing you to agree to stay his partner.

-“You’re staying here, you’re not leaving understand? Unless you want your brains on the fucking sheets! You don’t? Good.”

[bunny-jpeg]

baby trapping (vol. 3) - nanami kento

pairing: nanami kento x fem!readerrating: 18+ summary: Nanami, Nanami, Nanami. Always such the gentleman. He brought you flowers, he drove you home from work. He was almost husband material! Except three months ago you rejected his proposal and since then he had been trying to get you pregnant.

So far had had been unsuccessful. tags: smut, pwp, baby-trapping, love hotels, dark themes, breeding/pregnancy kink, love hotels, unprotected smut

Vol. One (Toji), Vol. Two (Geto & Gojo)

join my discord!

Nanami, Nanami, Nanami. Always such a gentleman. He brought you flowers, he drove you home from work. He was almost husband material! Except three months ago you rejected his proposal and since then he had been trying to get you pregnant.

So far it had not been successful.

-

The blond drove to your work in the expensive car he owned. He was on his way to pick you up from the dead-end job you somehow loved. He thought your talents could be useful elsewhere. Like the importat role of a stay-at-home mother to two beautiful children. But he hoped you'd at least have four children. Make the large empty house he owned into a home.

But you were so determined to be a young professional. You wanted to be working in an office. You wanted to go out for drinks and have a good time. There was a lot you wanted to do before you settled down. But Nanami was tired of waiting.

If you wouldn't accept his ring, then you'd have to accept his baby. Or rather babies.

You left work on time and met Nanami in the parking garage. You spotted the expensive car right away and quickly headed over to him. Your heart was in your throat as you got closer. You had a deep love for Nanami, you thought he was so perfect.

You were under the impression that he took the rejection well and was going to wait till you were most established at work before you got married! You got to the car and happily knocked on the passenger window then waved at him.

He smiled at you before he unlocked the door and opened it for you. His eyes darted to your legs where you gave him a flash of your panties under your business skirt. The sight made him tighten his grasp on the steering wheel.

He soon patted you on the thigh before he watched you buckle yourself in. He leaned over to kiss you on the lips, ”I was thinking, maybe, we could check into a hotel before dinner.“ He placed a hand on your thigh, ”I've been thinking of you all day and I don't think you want to be fucked in a resturant bathroom. I know you love a nice bed.“ He softly chuckled before he tucked hair behind your ear, ”How does that sound?“

You cupped his face as he gazed at you, ”Nanami.“ You giggled, ”Am I really that irresistible?“

He leaned in for another kiss, the way a dutiful boyfriend was, and replied, ”Yes, you know I look at you and can't get enough.“ Then kissed you once me. His hand grazed your inner thigh briefly before he pulled away. He watched you nod to his earlier question before he put the car into drive and headed off towards the nearest love hotel.

The hotel was nice, it blended rather nicely into the other buildings in the neighborhood. It wasn't hard to get a room and before you knew it, you were being tossed onto the bed like a rag doll.

He grabbed you by the hair as he pulled you in for another searing kiss. His cock twitched in his slacks at the thought of your beautiful form. You would be so beautiful pregnant, round with his child.

You would be so perfect with tender breasts filled with milk, a sore back and a heavy belly. He believed you'd be happier as his wife, he didn't know what got into your head about being stuck working at  a job that would get you nowhere!

But you were so simple at times, sometimes women couldn't see the bigger picture. It wasn't your fault, Nanami would help you with that. He started to unbutton the front of your blouse.

  “You look amazing.“ He said, ”You look more beautiful than anyone else on this earth.“ He could feel the heat in his face as he exposed your breasts to him, ”Fuck.“

You looked away, ”They're not that impressive, Nanami.“

He kissed down your neck, ”It's more than impressive. It's perfect.“ Then he started to leave marks on your skin and down to the tops of your breasts. He felt you start to loosen his tie.

He didn't let you throw it off the bed. He wrapped it in his left hand while he continued to give all his attention to your breasts. The marks were dark and could be seen easily. The notion of having his marks on you made you wet.

  ”Nanami.“

  ”You're perfect.“ He rubbed his clothed cock up against your clothed pussy. You could feel the weight of his erection against you, ”Let me take control tonight. Don't worry. I'll keep you safe.“

  ”Nan-“

  ”Trust me.“ He said softly. It was time to put his plan into action. Make you unsuspecting of him orgasming deep inside of you. To fill you with his cum until there was zero choice but to get pregnant.

All it took was one cell to find home with another. The thought aroused him, he didn't have to be sneaky with holes in the condom. He could easily impregnate you tonight, all you had to do was put your full trust into him.

You looked up into his eyes, there was a look of worry. There was even a crease in your brow that he smoothed out with his thumb. He smiled at you softly. Play the sheep until he could become the wolf.

  ”Alright, honey.“ You said as you reached to unzip your skirt, ”I trust you. I'll always trust you.“ Then gave him a broad smile as you unzipped the article of clothing.

He looked at you for a moment, there was a glint in his eye that you couldn't put into words. But it made an unfamiliar feeling rise up in you. Your heart raced as you both got undressed.

His gaze was tense, he wanted to see every curve on you. You wondered what he was thinking about as he observed you. But you would've never guessed it was the idea of getting you pregnant. To trap you with his baby.

He knew better than you, he knew what you needed. And that was a Nanami brat running around. And if he was lucky there would be multiples. He put the tie over your eyes, ”Trust me.“ And you had no choice but to trust him.

  ”You brought a condom right?“

He chuckled softly, ”Of course I did, the thin ones. Just the way you like it.“ He dipped his hand between your bare thighs and touched along your pussy. His thumb brushed against your clit and you shuddered. He smirked to himself, such a vulnerable young woman. So gentle and sweet.

You'd make the perfect wife for him. He wondered if they sold wedding dresses for women who already had their honeymoons. He smirked, knowing you wouldn't see it.

He played with you gently. You got more wet the more he played with you. Your hands dug into the sheet on the bed.

Maybe this wasn't the ideal place to make a baby, but it would have to do. He'd make sure the delivery was somewhere nicer. Maybe at home where he could take care of you. The thought made his cock bob, he may be a pervert but at least he could take out all the sexual frustration out on his soon-to-be wife.

  ”I'm going to move you now, my love.“He said with his voice close to your ear.

You nodded, ”Okay, honey.“ Then felt yourself being put on all fours. You dropped your front half into the soft pillows and kept your hips up so he could reach you. You wiggled your ass to entice him. Which was soon followed by a harsh slap. You made a small ”eep“ noise from the pain but it only made your pussy wetter.

  ”Such a beautiful sight.“ He said, ”I love you, I want you more than anything. I look at you and think of no one else. You're mine,  my love. All mine.“ His words made your heart flutter.

He rubbed your cheeks as he got behind you. His grip was rough which made you roll your hips in an attempt to get out of it. But there was no escaping him.

  ”Nanami.“ You whimpered.

  ”What did I say? You need to listen, I need you to trust me. Be a good girl and spread those legs a little more. I want to see your beautiful pussy.“ He was excited that his plan was working. That you so easily fell into it. It was as if it were destiny that you were meant to get pregnant tonight. And if not tonight, then he'd keep trying until you ended up with a child.

He situated himself behind him and he reached between your legs to your stomach which he playfully touched. His cock leaked pre-cum from his imagination going wild over the idea of you pregnant with his child.

He shakily exhaled to compose himself before he pulled his hand away to hold onto your hip while he guided his hardened cock into you. He groaned out loud as he felt your heat consume him.

  ”Honey!“ You whimpered, ”You're so big. I can feel it so deep!“ You gripped onto the pillow under your head as you tried to relax. His size was impressive and you knew it was his even without seeing.

You held onto the pillows and moaned into them. You knew the rooms were soundproof but you were worried about being too loud. The sound of sex filled the room as he started to move.

  ”Please, honey! Ah, it feels so good!“ You whimpered as you held onto the bed to keep yourself steady. Your heart was racing as he thrusted up into you.

  ”Does it feel good?“ He asked, he smiled to himself. The idea of you succumbing to pleasure. You just let him finish inside of you, get you pregnant and become his wife. It was a dream for him.

  ”It feels amazing!“ You moaned as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts. You held onto the pillows tightly as he started to move faster. Your heart was racing and you knew your face was flushed. You panted heavily into the covers.

  ”Good, good." He said softly to himself as he kept thrusting up into you. Your pussy clenched around him as he kept going. The feeling was erotic, it made his whole body warm. To be so close to you.

He wanted you so badly, he adored you. He was obsessed with you. He wanted to make sure that no one else could ever have you. His breathing became heavier as he moved.

The whole room grew hotter with each passing moment. Two people together, creating something beautiful even if one person didn't know it yet. The bed creaked under you as your bodies moved.

You felt hot all over as you two fucked in the centre of the bed. You panted heavily into the pillows as you tried to keep up. The feeling was amazing, it was like mini sparks were going through you. Your gut twisted with excitement over being so intimate with him.

He was a perfect lover.

Your head became cloudy the closer you got to orgasm. You felt like you were running off hormones as you felt so close to climax. You held on tightly as arched your back as you came. You groaned into the pillows, your voice was loud and almost got stuck in your throat from the feeling of the blond's cock so deep inside of you.

  “I love you, honey.” He said. 'you're all mine, wife,' he added in his head as he watched you go limp on the bed. He pulled you up by the hips and fucked into you even harder.

He was thrilled that he could finish inside of you. Your head was so fuzzy you'd barely noticed if he came with zero protection. It was simply nature telling you it was time to be a mother.

With one more hard thrust, he finished inside of you. He held onto your hips tightly as he gave a final thrust. He leaned a little to make sure that all of it got to its intended destination. He could feel his blond hair sticking to his forehead. He felt hot all over as he pulled out and laid down beside you.

You rolled into his arms, your mind was still blank from the intense orgasm you had. You didn't notice the cum that was oozing out of your poor cunt, but that would be cleaned up soon. As when Nanami came to, he made sure to clean up any trace that he finished inside of you.

You'd know what he did when that test came back positive. He wiped your clean, even the sweat on your forehead. He kissed the warmed skin. He had broken your mind with an intense orgasm and hopefully impregnated you.

The thought made him smile as he said, ”Let's get you in the shower.“ As he approached you. He had to be a husband and father now, which meant protecting what was his.

-

  ”That's it.“ He moaned, ”That's it.“ His wedding ring gleamed in the afternoon light, ”We have to be quick before Misao wakes up.“

You held onto his chest as you rode his cock. Your heavy breasts bounced as did your swollen belly. Two babies in two years, it could almost be a record.

Nanami rubbed your swollen middle, ”My beautiful wife. All mine.”  And you moaned in response. His cock twitched inside of you. This was all he ever wanted, but he'd only be truly satisfied with more than four children. He really wondered if he could break the record within a few years.

Either way, you'd only grow more beautiful. His beautiful wife, at home and caring for the growing home. Just as he wanted it.

xoxo, U・x・U

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

The itch

An: so I’ve never written for TUA, I think, I haven’t written anything in like a long time cause my brain is made of worms most days, but the new season and mostly five in his new attitude? Personality? His almost soft tired of it all way, gives me the feelings. As a 28 year old women it’s odd that a 68 year old trapped in a 18 year old body works for me like it does but hey, I’ve liked weirder (cough I was in the Hamilton fandom cough) so enjoy this sort of bonding with Lila over the new mundane life and the exhausting reality of having to live it, because I love Lila and hate what they did to her and fives characters with the whole 7 year time line romance. Like why make her a mum of 3 and married to Fives brother just to ruin it like that. But anyway enjoy this weird fic.

Readers power: molecular manipulation, think piper from charmed, overhaul from my hero, uhhh it’s hard to explain but basically it means you can make things explode, freeze people and things by fucking with the molecular structure of said thing.

——————————————————————-

You wanted to scream, to smash things, to burn yours and fives apartment down, it had been six years of calm, six years of learning to enjoy ‘normal’. Six years of working at dead end jobs because you didn’t pass the god damn psych evaluation for the CIA, somehow you are far more ‘unhinged’ than your husband.

You and five spent 30 years together, a decade in an apocalyptic wasteland when you ended up teleported there by mistake, and then 20 years at the commission becoming trained and ruthless assassins. Now, now Five worked doing CIA investigations and you got stuck working at a grocery store gas station. It was calm, it was normal, it was absolute hell on earth and made your skin itch.

So sitting in the parking lot of the play place for your nieces 6th birthday, you didn’t know why you couldn’t make yourself leave your car, five was already here, he had texted you as much, everyone else minus Viktor who was in Canada, and Allison who hasn’t shown her face irl to any of her siblings in the 6 years, you just needed to get out of the car and walk in with the gift you signed from both you and five for Gracie. It was a set of toy weapons, knives like her dads old ones, and a few other random ‘play pretend’ things.

Closing your eyes you leaned your head back against the head rest, taking a deep breath. Almost hitting the gas when the passenger side door opened and slammed closed. Turning eyes wide you saw Lila, the exhausted mothers face blank staring forward

“I just needed a minute, just needed” you nodded

“Take all the minutes you need. I assume it’s like pulling teeth in there with Diego?” Lila nodded sighing loudly

“Fives the same way, just on other stuff, like deciding if he wants to go out to dinner or stay in and order pizza, or if he needs new underwear because the ones he has have so many holes in surprised they still count as underwear, or just simple things like the dishes, like how hard is it to wash a cup, it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, how hard is it to just tell me when you need a quiet night cause work was stressful, and you are exhausted from stupid people all day, i work retail, he acts like I don’t understand being tired of idiots…I just…” you paused looking back out the windshield

“It’s like your skin is on fire and nothing stops the itch of being a once highly skilled assassin who could fuck with peoples molecules and freeze them in time or make them explode?” You nodded looking at her

“I find myself flicking my hands out and remembering I can’t just blow up or freeze people anymore, it’s like an itch and anytime I explain it to five he just…”

“Doesn’t listen? Or doesn’t understand that you are used to how your life was and now that it’s different, it’s not bad but it’s eye burning mundane clock ticking by slower then ever reality?”

Nodding you sighed

“Diego, he wants to listen, he just, from what five always told me he had a hard time understanding others because his brain is just, frazzled and he feels inadequate, how they grew up I guess shaped them in every timeline. Five is just used to being alone he was alone for 30 years before we met, then I popped up and it’s just. I don’t think he gets that sometimes I just need him to..”

“Let you Help with the itching”

You nodded smiling at her

“He just, it’s been a lot, and we haven’t quite got the ‘normal life’ down just yet.” Lila nodded

“It’s not easy in normal marriage land either, 3 kids and a chunky husband who, doesn’t make it easier is….”

“Not helping the itching. Well how about me and you, when the itch gets too bad, we help each other? Maybe find a way to do something, go to a rage room? Do a fighting class something to feel the….rush? Of what we did before. Have Klaus or someone babysit the kids, be me and you and just….”

“Fighting each other like the before days?” You laughed nodding

“Yeah…I miss getting to kick your ass and having you kick mine…”

Lila laughed looking around

“We could start a fight club, you, me, Ben when he gets out of prison. Just….maybe we’ll get used to normal eventually….” You frowned nodding

“You know if you ever need anything, help with the kids, a friend to vent to when Diego is being Diego…I’m not to far from your guys place. I can always swing by, let the munchkin tornados beat up on auntie Y/N.” You smiled at her for all the mess you and her had been in against each other, she had become one of your closest friends and family members through it all.

Soon enough you finally made your way into the building, the screams of children everywhere, the smell of sugar and something faintly child everywhere. You spotted five by the ball pit, speaking with Ben, walking over you hugged five from behind sighing as you rested your forehead against his back

“Hello, love.” You squeezed him in response before looking up and over to Ben

“Ahh Benjamin, free from jail, good to see you didn’t die, love that you still look like you want to murder us all” Ben didn’t laugh, just glared at you before sighing

“Not in the snark mood got it.” You felt five squeeze your arm a bit pulling away from you, making you groan

Turning to fully look at you, he looked you over smiling softly

“How was work?” You looked at him blinking slowly before sighing and planting your forehead on his chest, groaning

“Ahh I see” his hand rubbed your back softly, his other lifting the beer to his lips.

“People are stupid. How hard is it to put a gas nozzle in a car….”

“Apparently impossible if what you tell me says anything” you looked at him nodding before turning to look around

“10 bucks says Diego forgets to put up the piñata like Lila asked him” five laughed slightly

“Nah 20 says Lila has a mental breakdown before cake is served” you looked over to where Lila stood with Gracie helping the young girl fix her party hat,

“Nah I think she has a breakdown after presents when she sees what we got Gracie” five laughed looking down at you, brushing the stray hair from your face, smiling at him you sighed softly again,

it seemed even if you wanted to rip your hair out from the new ‘normal’ reality you all had to live in, even if your skin itched from the need to return back to what life was before somehow, it was nice that you still had small moments, where normal wasn’t so bad, normal birthday parties for your nieces and nephews, seemingly normal holidays, and normal, non murder happy work. As much as you loathed admitting it, sometimes it was nice. Like now, now was nice.

[iveriee]

tom riddle x sub ! clingy ! reader

( headcanons )

— no mention of reader's gender. tom is a toxic fucking bastard. reader is desperate. emotional manipulation. kind of fluffy. sexually explicit material in the nfsw section. oral. sadism. slight crack. aftercare (?). crumbs of sub ! tom. pulled this one out of my drafts aswell. NOT PROOFREAD !! can be read as a summarisation / alternate universe of escape.

— he doesn't know whether to be annoyed or flattered, for you rarely let him get out of your sight — often clinging to him like a parasite, head buried in his chest, arms wrapped around his neck.

— at first, he finds it endearing how you pout whenever he leaves. you're like an accessory to him — a prized possession that can't live without him.

— you take his hand, oh-so-gently and kiss him every single day. you tell him everything about your day, from the tiniest fragments to entire events.

— and it's nice of you — it really is. but unfortunately it is getting tiring.

— it is getting tiring to listen to your rambles, he thinks as you go on a tangent about how you accidentally spilled ink over your benchmate and how they 'overeacted'.

— you're like a bug now.

— weak. needy. pathetic.

— and he has no time for people with such characteristics, he cannot afford to.

— so he begins to ignore you. slowly but surely he does.

— and you grow crazy.

— why is he ignoring you? what did you do even do? did you mess up?

— you try to talk to him but he doesn't pay any attention.

— fuck. fuck. fuck.

— you always mess things up. you should've never overstepped his boundaries. you should've never clung to him like a fucking parasite. you never should have.

— so you do something you never should have done. again.

— ( you'll never change, will you ? )

— you beg for forgiveness on your knees — tears streaming down your cheeks.

— and he smirks ever so slightly. a sort of sadistic delight jolts through him.

— he pats your head and tells you there's no need to act this way — and that you're being silly.

— this fucker, you think before nodding at his words.

— he fucking ignored you and now he's saying that you're being silly for complaining ?

— you decide to let it be and focus on the positive aspects: you have him back now.

— (..presumably.)

— and so it happens again — you hug him so tight that your arms begin to sore. you tell him about your day. (albeit less), you kiss his cheeks and you gawk at his intelligence and you're...happy.

— or are you?

— because beneath all that affection, you are hollow.

— he can't love you, no, — but he'll accept your affection. it strokes his ego, probably.

— and you don't mind as much as you thought you would.

* what if you try to make him jealous ? or cheat on him. ?

oh merlin. you're screwed. done for. ended. dead. because, (i) it's highly unlikely that he'll fall for your pretense and (ii) if he somehow does, he'll make sure to make that fucker's life a living hell and perhaps yours too. how dare you fucking betray him for some piece of worthless shit? how the fuck could you?

he wasted so much of his time on you. so much of his time that could've been utilised. and yet he spent it reassuring you of your worth, listening to your tangents, helping you, and being..yours. you were his, obviously, but even more surprisingly, he was, in some twisted way, yours too.

and now you cheated on him. after he took the time to be vulnerable with you, after he exposed his true colours to you, after you peeled back his cold exterior. (after he let you pepper kisses all over his face and boop his nose!)

he thought he was the cruel one. but it seems you are. and you're not just cruel, no, — you're a fucking monster. something he never thought he'd use to describe you. a word usually reserved for him, back at that stupid muggle orphanage.

* how would he react to you being thoughtful and remembering the tiniest things about him ?

he'd be flattered, really — it's his most common reaction to your shenanigans, after all. he does indeed love having his ego stroked and your dedication to him would surely do that. you remembered how he prefers using fountain quills ? how endearing. you remembered his favourite colour, his favourite subject, his boundaries, his interests—

still, it's adorable. how you take the time to memorize everything about him in that pretty little head of yours. but that's not all. let's say — you remembered his..... birthday. actually, fuck no. he hates his birthday and would probably give you a nasty glare before walking off.

there are certain things that he doesn't want you knowing, obviously and if you find out, he'll obliviate you or if he can't do that, he'd ghost you or threaten you, depending on what you know. ("love. how can you even say that I went to the girl's lavatory? you have no reason to think that. and no, i absolutely was not being a cree— what are you even on about?")

but still, I'd say his outlook would usually be positive.

* how would he react to you being jealous ?

— he would be, to say the least, amused. it would mean that you do indeed care about him. perhaps a bit too much...

— he taps his nails against his desk smugly as you pout in your classic fashion and yell at him. tom doesn't understand how you feel even a twinge of the hot, burning embarassment you are supposed to feel when acting so utterly ridiculous.

— when you finally stop ( and merlin it is after a long time when you do ) there might aswell be smoke puffing out of your nose.

— he takes your flushed cheeks and squishes them, hands digging into your flesh. when you groan out in protest, he shhs you as if you are a fucking child.

— "you're jealous." he whispers, his lips curling. and he knows he's right, by the way your eyes divert and your breathing turns ragged.

— "trust me, i am yours. why would you think that way? do you not trust me?" he then smoochs your forehead and FUCKING LEAVES !!!! the bastard leaves.

— he can't help but chuckle as he walks out. you are mortifying. ridiculous. stupid. and oh so naive. you are all of that indeed. and worse, even.

— alas, he cannot leave you. you are entertaining. overly so. ( and because he loves you but he would never admit that)

* what if you comfort him because of his past ? what if you just can't handle that the person you love had to suffer ?

he'd be... astonished. despite feigning displeasure, he would be, in somewhere deep in his heart, utterly and completely, — flattered. you. sweet you. hugging him — apologizing for something you were not even apart of. sniffling, hands softly trailing across his cheeks. you had always been affectionate, yes — but this? nobody had done this for him.

and for that, he leans into your touch; your sweet, honey-dripping kisses and words. he feels strange. a strange kind of heat creeps up his body and he doesn't know if he hates it or if he loves it. all he knows that you're the reason why the sudden warmth erupts in his stomach in the first place. you. you.

he's scared. so scared. scared that he might aswell peel back all the boundaries he's been keeping for long, held together by his sheer unwillingness to show a fleck of vulnerability. he doesn't want you thinking he's weak and even more, that...he loves you.

nfsw.

— oh shit.

— you are eager — really eager.

— and he doesn't know how to react to it.

— his drive really isn't all that high, so you have to be the one to initiate it.

— most of the time, you let him take the lead and do he wants to.

— he fucking LOVES teasing you in public places.

— he'll trail his fingers across your thighs in the midst of a class and tell you to be quiet when you whimper ever so slightly.

— and it's torturous — how he coaxes involuntary gasps out of you. how he does not give a flying fuck about your dignity.

— what can you do but sniffle and grip the table tightly, lips trembling? merlin, you want, no, need him. and there's a hot, gashing fire inside of you — all consuming, heavy and ravenous .

— he likes giving you oral too. maybe even more than he likes recieving it.

— he'd drag his tongue between your legs and you'd cry out his name and grab his hair even more tightly, all while he never breaks eye contact. you'd be the one sobbing and breathless, not him — despite him being on his knees.

— it somehow brings him satisfaction to know that you'll always be beneath him.

— he's not that great at aftercare — he doesn't know how to 'comfort' you, so he just holds you suffocatingly tight until you fall sleep.

* would he let you take control ?

not reeeeally ?? yes but also no. he'd let you be in charge occasionally, of course, but if you tried to convince him again, he'd merely chuckle and roll his eyes. ("no, love — i'm not letting you tie me up again. not after what you did. and don't try to manipulate me with those puppy eyes.")

but secretly, he would enjoy it. although he'd die rather than admit it. your eyes seem to light up whenever he says that you can take the lead and obviously.. you're quite enthusiastic and this enthusiasm translates...strangely during the act. he finds that he doesn't mind, closing his eyes and lying back for once. but it is so very mortifying to beg you for more.

[alltimecharlo]

I need an insufferable Smitty at worlds annoying team USA with Mack this Mack that and well Mack does it like this and as soon as they are in the same city a couple of the team USA guys go drop him off at team Canada hotel like here take him we’re tired of hearing about you to a confused Mack. They walk into a team Canada team dinner or something so they’re all just staring

absolutely yes!!! willmack at worlds my beloved <3 fic below the cut :)

(p.s. if you want more willmack being inseperable idiots at worlds, i have an ao3 fic about that too hehe🩵)

Will is insufferable.

Not in the way that makes him hated—no, somehow it just makes him more endearing. But that doesn’t mean the rest of Team USA isn’t completely, utterly over it.

"Mack always tapes his stick like this," Will says, for the third time that morning in the locker room, showing off the little spiral twist near the toe of his blade.

"Mack wouldn’t miss that shot," Will mutters under his breath after a teammate flubs an easy one in morning skate.

"Mack says recovery snacks are sacred. You don’t disrespect a man’s orange slices," Will announces, batting someone's hand away from his clearly labeled post-practice snack bag.

By the end of day three at Worlds, half the team is quoting him behind his back. Mack this. Mack that. Mack would probably coach this whole team better than their current staff, if you ask Will.

"Hey, Smitty," Cutter says one evening, exhausted and rubbing his temples as Will chirps on about Mack's powerplay zone entries. "You ever consider transferring to Team Canada?"

"What?" Will looks genuinely confused. "No, I'm American."

"Yeah, well. Your heart's in Alberta."

They all laugh, except Will, who just shrugs and says, "Mack was born in Vancouver, actually."

As soon as they're back in Stockholm, a few of the older Team USA players look way too smug as they all pile into the bus for a day off in town. Will, as usual, is talking to someone about Mack.

"Honestly, Mack’s backhand—you’d never expect it, but it’s deadly. He scored this shootout winner once and—"

"Smitty."

"Hm?"

"Get your stuff."

"Why?"

"You’re coming with us."

--

Mack is not expecting anything when he steps into the hotel restaurant for the team dinner. He’s late, having just gotten off a FaceTime call with his little sister, and he slides in through the side door near the bar, head down, smoothing the collar of his polo.

There’s a sudden hush.

He looks up.

Will is standing dead center in the doorway, flanked by two Team USA defensemen like some kind of ceremonial offering. The restaurant falls silent. Will is holding a little duffel bag and looking… smug? Embarrassed? Relieved?

"Uh," Mack says.

"Your problem now," one of the Americans says dryly, clapping Will on the shoulder. "We need a break."

"You’re welcome," the other adds.

They turn and leave.

Will doesn’t move. Just kind of hovers there until Mack crosses the room and looks up at him, blinking.

"Hey," Will says, softly.

"Hi."

"They were tired of hearing about you."

Mack snorts, ears going red. "You been driving them that crazy?"

Will shrugs, like it can’t be helped. "You're my favorite topic."

Behind them, someone from Team Canada coughs pointedly. Others are whispering. Mack ignores them.

"You ditch your own team’s day off to come hang out with us?"

"I didn’t ditch. They delivered me."

Mack grins, helpless and a little fond. "Come on then. Sit with me."

He tugs Will toward his usual spot at the table, ignoring the barrage of chirps and comments already flying in their direction.

"You two are ridiculous," someone groans.

"Get a room!"

"They weren’t even subtle about it!"

Will just bumps his knee against Mack's under the table, leans in close and murmurs, "Worth it."

Mack can feel his stupid grin stretch wider. He tries to fight it. Fails completely.

"You gonna spend the whole dinner talking about me again?"

Will grins, unapologetic. "Obviously."

Mack shakes his head, rests his cheek briefly on Will's shoulder despite the public setting, and murmurs, "Good."

He doesn’t even care that everyone’s watching. Not when Will’s right here, where he belongs.

♡

[liyawritesss]

ꜱʜᴇᴀ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ

-> synopsis: tim drake wants nothing more than his little shea butter and vanilla scented baby when he comes home from patrol.

         -> pairing: tim drake x blk!gn!reader

-> from: dc’s batman universe

         -> contains: descriptions of canon typical violence, a few curse words, little to no use of [y/n], black!reader but can be read by anyone, primarily in tim’s perspective, second person terminology (you, your, yours)

-> a/n: had a convo with the lovely @timbits-drake and we came to the conclusion that timothy drake is a guy who loves warm vanilla scents, and so it gave me the incentive to run with it LMAO. love you boo, i just had to give tim a vanilla baddie to snuggle with 

         -> join my taglist!

-> tags: @timbits-drake @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @asensitivecookie @moon-bo-young @flo-milli-shit-hoe @babyboiboyega @romiantic

When the amber rays of the rising sun begin to trickle in through the windows of his apartment, Tim knows he’s been up too long. He can ignore the stinging in his eyes and the ache in his knees from his sitting position in front of his monitor screen. Even the several alarms that he has on his phone that, somehow, he manages to disarm before they even sound. He’s lost count of how many times his hands have been through his hair, the mop of dark locks sticking out in various directions across his head. The blaring bluelight from the screen highlighting the exhausted features on his face was slowly being drowned out with the morning sun rising over the horizon, thawing the cold of crime that glazed over Gotham in the night and bathing the city in its redemptive glow, welcoming the city and its residents into a new day.

For the umpteenth time, his elbows meet the cool surface of his desk, and his hands cup his face for a moment in respite, the darkness providing a soothing ache to his strained eyes, before the digits rake through his tousled hair once more. A sigh leaves his throat, deep and tired. The only other testament to his evasion of sleep being the number of Juneberry Red Bull cans that sit on his desk. Another restless night, leading to yet another dead end. 

While momentarily deterred from his screen, Tim faintly hears the distinct sound of music playing; a low hum that’s warm and resonating. Then, the sweet scent that he’s come to be so familiar and fond with follows after. It is in this split second when his mind is at rest that he thinks ‘at least there’s one good thing about staying up ‘til this early’.

Footsteps are heard soon after he registers that he is not the only one awake now, and he slowly begins to anticipate the best part of his restless all-nighters.

“Another late night?”

The closer the footsteps sound, the stronger the soothing scent becomes. It tickles his nose when you breach the threshold of the study room, and starts to creep over his senses when you place a comforting hand on his back. Feeling your thumb sooth the tension between his shoulder blades, Tim sits up slowly, leaning into your touch without thinking. It is like clockwork, this little routine of yours. One that, while he feels a little guilty of every now and then - he hates worrying you, and tries everything he can to avoid doing so, even though he knows it is wishful thinking - he is so very thankful that you engage in it with him.

Your hand trails the expanse of his back, creeping up the nape of his neck, gently coaxing for him to meet your gaze. His neck cranes slightly upwards, and he feels your fingers curling with the arch of it as he does so. Pretty blue eyes, dark and weary, meet yours, and for the first time since he’s gotten home that night, he breathes.

“Yeah…” Tim hums in response, leaning further into the warmth that’s radiating from your body. A wandering hand traces the curve of your leg, flattening against the fat of your thigh, cupping the supple flesh as if to pull you closer. 

“No luck with recon either, huh?” You prod a little, leaning a little more towards him and letting his head meet your clothed tummy, allowing for Tim to take a sharp inhale of your scent, and suddenly, he’s almost too painfully aware of just how exhausted he is.

“No…” He murmurs against your clothed skin, the sweet, warm fragrance invading his senses all at once, making it hard for him to fight the drowsiness that begins to settle in his eyelids.

Tim has half a nerve to groan when he feels the low rumble of a hum resonate though your body, because he knows what you’re about to say next, and by god, he does not want to hear it, but he doesn’t have it in him to fight your light scolding.

“Y’know what you’d have better luck in?”

“Don’t-”

“-some sleep; now come on,” and then you’re tugging at him, pulling at the baggy forest green pullover he’d lazily tossed on after getting home last night, and he starts groaning up a storm. A few pops echo throughout the room from his joints finally getting movement after hours of being stagnant, “at least get in the bed, please?”

His stance is wobbly, but he stands, but unwilling to be parted from the fragrance he’d come to love about you, he leans a little further onto you, craning his neck to nudge against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and breathes in. Warm vanilla and brown sugar waft through his nose, sifts through his bloodstream, and his tense shoulders relax a little, as if satiated for the time being. It is only while he’s momentarily distracted by the compelling notes of your daily fragrance and lotion layering, you are able to guide him from the study and into the bedroom. There, too, it smells of you, and it’s warmer here than in the study, which his body takes as more than a welcoming.

With a gentle hand, you guide him into the bed, and he almost sinks into the plush pillows, cozy comforter, and foam mattress. Without thinking, Tim buries his head deep into the pillows. God, did you spray the bed with your fragrance, too? He thinks, though he doesn’t ask. He’s already half-way asleep when hits the bed.

The faint sound of your laughter - soft, light, sweet, just like your scent - makes its way to his ears, and Tim can’t even stifle the rush of heat that begins to creep up his neck. 

Gosh, the things you do to him.

The last thing Tim remembers, before the gentle grasp of sleep welcomes him into its hold, is the feeling of your hand coming through his hair and your lips pressed against his temple, and your voice sending him off to sleep for a couple of hours.

Before he completely succumbs, though, he manages to whisper a small, airy, dainty little I love you; and while he does not care for the late nights that trickle into the morning hours, he cherishes that sliver of time the most, as it is when he gets to be lulled off to sleep with the warmth of your love and the alluring scent of brown sugar and warm vanilla.

[littlespoonevan]

I watched the first three seasons of 911 back when that was all that had aired and just didn’t keep watching after the break between seasons for whatever reason. I also didn’t really get buddie, I just thought it was a beautiful friendship. I’m now on a rewatch and just got to the end of season 4 and boy am I all in, Buck’s reaction to Eddie getting shot and the aftermath really made me get it. Anyway, I was wondering if you have any fic recs for a buddie newbie? I’m probably gonna speed through the rest of the show in a few days and need something else to occupy me hahah

hey bud, welcome back to the world of 911!! 🥰 okay so i have some previous fic recs that i've posted here and i also have 489 bookmarks on ao3 which you can have a scroll through here (i only ever bookmark something for rereading or reccing purposes so can confirm i've read and loved them all)

but i'll do my best to make a somewhat cohesive list below of some of my personal faves. i have no doubt i'll probably leave some out accidentally but they'll definitely be in my bookmarks so 100% check those out too!! ❤️

The Nearness of You by allisonRW96 / @homerforsure

Eddie reassured himself that he could do this. Other teams coming in were probably going to be staying at the same hotel in the same double rooms and it was very possible that none of them were going to be having sex. Or even lying awake at night thinking about it. Or: Buck and Eddie go on a work trip.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania / @hmslusitania

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says. “Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says. “I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies. “Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.” -- An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels /@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: Marry Buck.

standing on the brink of emptiness by woodchoc_magnum / @woodchoc-magnum

In which Eddie is struggling in the aftermath of being shot, learning how to take care of himself and realising he's in love with Buck; and Buck is dating Taylor, taking care of Eddie and Christopher and trying to figure out why he's so goddamn confused about everything.

across our great divide (a glorious sunrise) by catchingpapermoons 

“We’re working on it,” Maddie explains, shooting Chimney a look. He nods seriously. “In couples therapy.” “Huh,” Eddie says, and then he thinks about it. "Do you think Buck and I would benefit from couples therapy?" — or, Eddie gets Buck to come to couples therapy with him.

darling, the future's better than yesterday by rarakiplin (gmontys)

Eddie, ten years younger, in this awful 2010, blinks up at him. He's still sitting slumped on the curb, and for a second Buck thinks he might tell him to fuck off, but then his eyes fall shut and there’s something — aching and painfully vulnerable in the bend of his mouth, the faint tension in his brow. “My…um, girlfriend, I guess. She’s pregnant.” “Holy shit,” Buck says. - or, buck deals with some wonky dimensional/time travel and then breaks up with his girlfriend. eddie, obviously, is involved.

i'm here (i’m yours for the taking) by farfromthstars / @buckactuallys

“Everyone!” Around forty heads turn, and Buck shifts on his feet uncomfortably at the attention. “This is my old friend Buck and his husband, Eddie.” “Uh,” Buck makes, turning to Eddie with wide eyes. Eddie's looking just as stunned. “Connor, I think you got–” He cuts himself off when Eddie wraps an arm around his waist. ~ at the winter wedding of an old friend, buck and eddie pretend to be married to each other. the plan has no weaknesses, obviously, not even mistletoe or anyone’s secret feelings… they call it the season of giving i'm here, i'm yours for the taking

Your Fingerprints Smeared on My Heart (Lead Me Back to You) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

In 1880, Evan Buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets Eddie Diaz, cowboy. When fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again. In 2018, Buck walks into his fire station in Los Angeles - and meets Eddie Diaz, new recruit.

no kingdom to come by waywardrenegades

Family, FaceTime, guilt trips, phone calls, church, heart healthy meals, and learning how to let yourself be happy. Whatever that looks like. or; when his father experiences a health scare, Eddie flies to El Paso.

when i was shipwrecked (i thought of you) by catchingpapermoons 

Buck walks toward Jee-Yun’s room, still talking, and Christopher trails after him, asking excited questions in response, and Eddie’s smile grows. He wants this forever. Everything, every part of it; Buck, Christopher, and him—that’s all he needs. And— Oh. Oh no. He shuts his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply. He’s looking at Buck, and feeling something strictly not platonic at all. or: Eddie needs to learn how to let himself feel, and one step at a time, he learns how to do just that. (And he falls in love with Buck along the way.)

i don't swim and you're not in love by hattalove / @hattalove

She turns to Eddie and says something else, but Buck is busy fighting the headrush he gets at the sound of Ana Flores calling Eddie and Christopher 'the boys'. Like they belong to her already. God, what’s wrong with him? What is this? or, eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly.

everything's coming up milhouse by hammersmiths / @bucktommys

LAFD Updates (@L*A*F*D_Metro) LAFD Alert: Red-level traffic on Gardiner Road this morning. If you are trying to get into the city centre consider taking Westerley Lane. buck 🔥🔥 (@firebuck) so true bestie or, Eddie mans the LAFD Twitter account. Buck tries to be supportive.

said i couldn't stay, but it's different now by hattalove

“I think,” he says, watching Karen pull Hen out onto the dance floor, their eyes never leaving each other’s, “I think I’m just—sad.” Maybe. That feels like a close enough word to describe this gaping maw right in the center of his chest. It’s only really there sometimes, taking little bites out of him, easy enough to ignore, but today is worse. “About being single at a wedding,” Eddie says, not a question. Buck shrugs. “Sounds stupid when you put it that way.” or, the one with the four weddings (feat. a drunk karen wilson, shania twain, a single cheerio, and some confessions over cubed fruit).

cause i'm tired of sleeping alone by rarakiplin (gmontys)

Buck goes on dates now. Not often, and never with the same girl twice in a row, but he goes on dates. And the thing is — the thing is, Eddie can’t be mad about that, because he goes on dates too. - or, five (ish) times eddie and buck go on dates with other people, and one time they go on a date with each other

so far from being free by allisonRW96

"That’s Daniel. He was our brother. Buck doesn’t know what to do with the past tense. He never had a brother. He’s always had a brother. He gained one and lost one in the same breath and it feels impossible. But even if Buck was capable of doubting Maddie, the truth of her confession is evident in the way it throws every facet of his childhood into sudden perfect clarity. That yawning, arctic absence. The unnamable fear. The impenetrable target of his parents’ approval that he was never, ever going to be able to hit. That they didn’t want him to hit. He has a brother. A dead brother who has haunted Buck’s steps for his entire life."

don't let the tide come and wash us away by writerforlife

Buck develops a relationship with the ocean, avoids talking about the day Eddie was shot, realizes he might be in love, and drives. Order may vary. (a fic for the "Buck is going to break all the way down in season 6" truthers)

dance, for all that we've been through by catchingpapermoons 

The Los Angeles Ballet’s 2022-2023 season ends with a bang with their fresh take on a ballet staple, Swan Lake. Artistic Director Bobby Nash is in his eighth season with the Los Angeles Ballet, and it has flourished under his direction. However, his associate, Eddie Diaz, is the one whose reimagining of the choreography has caught our attention... (or, Eddie Diaz moves to L.A. to restart his dance career, and ends up choreographing a show, finding a family, and falling in love. Not necessarily in that order.)

I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

When Eddie joins the 118, he and Buck don't exactly hit it off on the right foot. Or continue to walk on the right foot. In fact they kind of can't stand each other. Good thing they each have a beloved anonymous pen pal to share their daily woes with, someone completely unlike their insufferable coworker. Or, in which Buck and Eddie love each other before they know each other, and know each other before they love each other. When Eddie joins the 118, he and Buck don't exactly hit it off on the right foot. Or continue to walk on the right foot. In fact they kind of can't stand each other. Good thing they each have a beloved anonymous pen pal to share their daily woes with, someone completely unlike their insufferable coworker. Or, in which Buck and Eddie love each other before they know each other, and know each other before they love each other.

never felt this way before (yes i swear) by withoutthetiger

It’s the summer of 2022, when Buck no longer wants to be called Evan, and it only occurs to his parents to mind. It’s after the pandemic – or so they say – and before whatever hell will befall the world next, when Buck can’t wait to join the LAFD in September, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever meet someone as gently strong and fiercely protective as his big sister. It’s the summer he goes with his family to the One Eighteen Ranch & Lodge. *** A Dirty Dancing AU, set in Texas in 2022, featuring a whole lot of familiar faces in a not so familiar place.

Fragile lines (and wasted time) by Mellaithwen / @mellaithwen

“Hey Buck,” Christopher says a little shyly, before reaching out to grab Buck’s foot through the hospital blankets—shaking it in the same way he’s woken his father up on many a bleary-eyed morning. The familiarity of the gesture makes Eddie’s head spin. But of course, there’s no response from the comatose man on the bed. “I thought you said he was sleeping,” Chris mumbles, angrily swiping at his cheeks, and Eddie’s already broken heart shatters all over again for whatever hope his son had just lost when his expectations were so cruelly dashed. . While Buck sleeps, and dreams in the aftermath of the lightning strike, Eddie tries desperately to hold himself together.

Don't Take the Money by HMSLusitania

“You know, being stuck here isn’t actually the end of the world,” Chimney says, coming up to the table and picking up one of the smoke detectors. “It just feels like it, Buck. Trust me, I know.” “I’m pretty sure it might actually be the end of the world,” Buck says. “Considering this is the sixth time I’ve lived this day.” Chimney stares at him for a beat and then his eyebrows lift. “Wait, are you like – dude, are you in Groundhog Day?” OR The post-lawsuit time-loop AU literally no one asked for.

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests / @fcntasmas

Buck used to speed through yellow lights; now they’re his favorite part of the drive. -- or; a glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. +++ [Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

as lucky as us by hammersmiths

One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier. “I mean, I get it,” Buck’s saying, overhead, and Ravi’s knee-deep in literal human crap and even he can smell that shit from a mile away. “You and Tommy have a lot in common.” or, Ravi continually suffers as a third-wheel.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 39 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

39. pool time  

You float in the pool, cooling off after a day of training. Not so much your body, as your head. 

John yelled at you earlier for not clearing a chamber jam fast enough for his liking–and you are tired of all of this. 

Mariko continues to kick the shit out of you every other day–but you are learning a lot, so you take it. Just when you think you might be earning her begrudging respect–she finds some new way to put you in your place–and on your face.

John drills you at the range and on the speed course, and you didn’t think you were doing too bad, until about an hour ago. But the slide stuck and the spring was tight and the checkered metal hurt your sore fingers and the guns are heavy…you’re over it.

You don’t even want to go to Argentina anymore. You just want to go home. 

The only one in the pool, you swim back and forth aimlessly, underwater and above, changing your strokes every few passes then floating again. 

This situation is wearing on John too. If they don’t show soon…you don’t know what he’s going to do. Something that will probably mean leaving you here, in safety, while he goes off to do what he does. 

Which according to Winston, is starting fires in the Underworld he doesn’t quite know how to put out, without killing everyone. 

The thought of him going on another rampage terrifies you. 

You sense the shadow of someone standing over you at the side of the pool. Expecting John, you right yourself in the water, looking up.

“I did not know the New York Continental boasted its own mermaid.”

So. Not. John.

You immediately sink again in the water, peering up at the newcomer with narrowed eyes. You’re not sure which clue put you on edge immediately: the wolfish way he looks down at you, his elegant yet flashy manner of dress–or his Italian accent. 

You say nothing in return, your heart in your throat. Somehow, you just know. 

“Allow me to introduce myself. Dante D’Antonio.” He squats down at the side of the pool, paying you a cruel little smile. A lock of his dark, curly hair falls down over his forehead; he’s handsome, but there is something missing in his hazel-green eyes as he stares you down. You’ll admit it. He scares the shit out of you. 

“Your fiancé killed my mother.” 

“Prepare to die?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I thought we were quoting The Princess Bride here.”

“What?” 

“It’s good that you’ve come, signor D’Antonio,” you say more carefully, kicking yourself for being a smartass in this world where everyone spoke carefully and in metaphor, because crossing the wrong person could literally mean losing your head. “My fiancé has been getting impatient.” 

“It was never his strong suit, so I’ve heard.” 

“And yet, you harass him. There are a lot of dead people who would tell you that’s not a smart move.” 

He waves you off with a flourish of his wrist. You are so tempted to splash him. “John Wick is an old man whose time has passed. It is a shame, he would involve a pretty little innocent like you in the crossfire.”

You glare at this man, sinking up to your nose in the water. What is he doing here, talking to you?

“D’Antonio.” 

John’s low voice draws you like a beacon. He stands at the other end of the pool, a dark pillar of death. The air positively crackles with tension, and then it dawns on you that this is d’Antonio’s purpose. Rile John Wick to the point of doing violence on Continental grounds, and make him sign his own death warrant.

Again.

You might have missed it once, but now you can see the bulge under John’s expertly tailored suit jacket. You know he’s wearing a loaded Glock on his hip, and that he could end this troublesome young man in about 1.5 seconds.

That would just be the beginning of your troubles. 

You remember what Winston cautioned you, about what John might do to a perceived threat of you. Fuck. 

“John…” you caution, swimming quickly for the ladder that is conveniently situated between the two men, intending to put yourself between them. Dread floods your system, as you fear you’ll be too late.  “Save it for the parlay,” you beg between strokes. 

If Dante d’Antonio was here, surely the others were on their way? It would be madness, otherwise, for the boy to show his face to John Wick?

“Yes, John. Don’t do anything rash,” taunts Dante with a smarmy grin, one hand stuffed casually in his waistcoat pocket.  

It all happens so fast. 

John rushes the kid, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. 

Dante balks, clearly not having thought through his life choices, facing down the John Wick with no bodyguards and no weapon to his name. 

You don’t think John actually touches the young man, but Dante manages to stumble over his own Gucci-clad feet in his panic–into the pool, in that beautiful silk suit. 

You watch this transpire open mouthed, half-hoisted up on the ladder. 

John’s iron grip on your arm pulls you out the rest of the way from the pool, snatching your towel from a chair as the two of you power-walk out, draping your dripping form with the soft terry cloth as Dante d’Antonio hurls angry Italian expletives after your retreating forms. 

“Are you going to get into trouble for that?” you hiss, your teeth chattering from the temperature change and the adrenaline. 

“I didn’t even touch him,” defends John, bundling you into the elevator. “What a little bitch.”

You snort at that. You are weightless for a moment, as the elevator rises. 

“Go to the room,” John orders you at the fifth floor. 

“Where are you going?” You try not to sound like a scared little girl, certain you fail. You’re not mad anymore. Just anxious, and you realize, a bit excited. Finally, something is happening.

“To talk to Winston.” 

Of course. 

“Hurry back to me?” 

He presses his lips to yours, then gently nudges you towards the hall. “Always.”

[starrywyatt]

☆ chapter 12: what the big fat fuck ☆

☆ never saw it comin'- a george clarkey story ☆

! THIS STORY READS BEST IN DARK MODE !

masterlist

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

george's pov:

i struggle to get out of bed this morning as me and madison didn't stop talking until about 2am and i had to be at podcast filming for 10am. i hop on a limebike and head straight to the studio and i make it for bang on 10am and of course, max is late.

"good morning, you're the first one here" producer callum says and i sigh, "typical".

"sorry guys! my alarm didn't go off" max walks in at 10:15, crocs and disney tshirt on. "i'm so tired, i've been so ill" max says and we run over the brief itinerary for today's episode but we never really stick to it anyways.

"hello everyone and welcome to the useless hotline. i'm max balegde" he says with a lot less energy than usual and i end up finishing off the intro. "okay george, you're gonna have to take the reigns today because i'm ill as fuck" max groans, so i do just that. "well, what have you been up to? apart from being ill and having a skin tone that matches the colour of the office walls" i joke. "well, i went home and saw my dog, josie bless her. her tongue is hanging on for dear life, it was actually quite sad. and then me and andrew have been dealing with a leaky tap in the kitchen" he explains. "bet that's not the only leaky tap in that one" i joke and it lands awfully. "i'm too ill to put up with your shit today" max sighs. "you forgot like the most exciting part of our week, madison's concert!" i say. "OH MY GOD YEAH!" max says, almost jumping back to life. "i thought that was last week, jesus" he says. "no, very much this week. only like 3 or 4 days ago" i laugh. "lots has happened since then. but yeah, we saw the amazing madison scott in concert and i just want to tell you all, i was the one who suggested arthur hill on this podcast! so you can all thank me for that" he says, bragging as usual. "yeah you did. i mean excellent choice and arthur's very grateful too. but what did you think of the show?" i ask him. "well, you all know i'm the biggest madison scott fan so it was amazing. vocals, on point. dancing, stunning and visuals were incredible too" max explains excitedly. "yeah i thought it was great too. i am a more recent madison fan i'll be honest. but she did amazing, i was very impressed and so much i went back to night 2" i smile. "yeah! i heard you went back again, so that's true?" max asks. "yep, got guest list, no biggie" i smirk. "do you guys remember when he was humble?" max looks to camera. "but no, honestly even better the second time. i don't know how she does it, feeling very lucky to have such talented friends" i smile. "yeah, arthur was incredible too! i was like, how crazy is it to have friends that are literal pop stars, like it's my literal dream" max says. "yeah shoutout to arthur too. dead in the disco lives goes crazy and his new one, john wayne. stream the shit out of both of them and go see them if you can somehow find tickets" i laugh. "yeah and then you held an amazing after party" max says. "yep, party planner of the year" i nod. "not quite, massive shout to abigail, madi's bestfriend she helped massively. but i just thought it would be a cute way to celebrate the opening night of their tour. they both worked hard to make the show happen so thought we could all have a little boogie" i say. "yeah and i've been promised there's another big celebration coming at the end of the tour" max smiles. "yeah, i'm looking forward to that one" i smile.

we continue with the episode, discussing random other stories from our week before coming onto the dilemmas. "george, i think i can hear the phone ringing" max says, holding his ear out. "you sure can" i say, pressing the 100% functional button on the phone. "hey max and george and guest if there is one" the girl says. "nope" i bluntly interrupt. "i'm like seeing this guy, but it's not official and we haven't shagged or anything, just kissed but for the past couple weeks we've been together non stop and now he's going on a cruise for a month so i basically won't see him. how do i trust him to not get with someone else or can i even be mad if he does? thanks" the voice note finishes and i realise it sounds kind of similar to me and madison. "hmm george what advice do you have?" max asks. i try to decide whether to answer seriously or not. "hmm that's a tough one because technically if you're not together anything could happen but i feel like it's kind of human decency if you have something with someone else, you maybe don't pursue other people" i say. "yeah i completely agree. like when i was talking to andrew, i shagged 100s of people but i just have no human decency." he says and i awkwardly laugh. "that was such a bad joke, why did i say that?" he says, putting his head in his hands. "my advice would be, maybe just continuously drop subtle hints you're interested and try check in every day and just try maintain what you had at home whilst they're away" i smile. "yeah that's cute advice. and if he cheats on you, chop his willy off!" max says very aggressively. "jesus. but then is it even cheating if they're not together?" i say. "i mean i'd say like emotional cheating. i don't know" max shrugs and move onto the next one.

we wrap up the episode and max heads home because he doesn't feel well. i head home also but stop off at joe and the juice for some lunch and it reminds me of madison, so i send her a selfie.

madison's pov:

i look over at the clock and it was 11:15am and we had parked up outside the nottingham venue, so i did my morning skin care and went downstairs to have some late breakfast with arthur and some of the band. i made sure to change my (george's) hoodie before heading down. however, as i was about to head downstairs, my phone buzzed.

i couldn't help myself. i don't know why but that selfie made butterflies appear in my stomach and a massive smile on my face.

i head downstairs and am met with everyone and luckily they had ordered food for me too. "morning" they all say in unison like we're in a cult. i sit down and enjoy my bacon roll and coffee before heading inside to the venue.

i sound check and realise i need to decide which cover i'm going to sing tonight, i know george isn't going to be here so i could be really bold or i could just do a fun song. after soundcheck i head into my dressing room and scroll instagram for bit until i come across a post...

max and george had mentioned coming to my show on their podcast and they were both so cute saying they enjoyed it and were proud of me. i decide to listen to the full episode as i got ready for the show as i missed both of them already and it was nice to hear them both like they're with me.

i was soon ready and decided to watch arthur from the wings as always. 'dead in the disco' is about to play and i facetime george, he picks up on first ring which makes me smile. "thought you might want to hear this one" i say and flip the camera so he can see arthur on stage. i can't lie my attention is no longer on arthur on stage, i find myself watching george on the screen singing and smiling along to the song. as soon as it was over, i decide i need to get changed before i go on stage so i head back into my dressing room, george still on the phone.

"how's your day been?" i ask him. "busy, i went gym and then filmed with the sidemen for like 4 hours and now tomorrow i have to go film some stuff with max for unihomes so i need to pack and have an early night" he explains. "aww nice, what video did you film with the sidemen?" i ask. i love asking him about his youtube stuff because i can tell he genuinely loves it and that makes me happy. he explains it all to me and we continue talking and it had now been 20 minutes. "okay, i need to go get changed but have an early night and i'll speak to you tomorrow" i smile. "okay, have a good show. don't miss me too much" he says and i roll my eyes and hang up.

i get changed and get ready to head on stage. the crowd was incredible and the show was passing pretty quickly and it was time for my surprise cover. "so, i decided that each night i'm going to sing a cover of a song that i'm loving or relating to at the moment and tonight's song is from one of my favourite artists ever and arguably one of my biggest inspirations. this is 'you belong with me'" i smile and begin strumming the chords and singing the song. i'd be lying if i said this wasn't aimed at george but it was also just a fun song for me to sing.

the show was officially over and we headed back to the tour bus. me and arthur end up spending ages talking on the kitchen table about so many random things but then we decide it's time to head to bed.

george's pov:

i wake up early the next morning to head to leeds with max to film some content for unihomes. madison had text me good night but i had fallen asleep early. so i message her good morning. i get in the uber, scheduling a pit stop at max's to take to us to st pancras. max walks into the uber. "oh my god, have you seen?" he says very excitedly. "no, what?" i say, confused. "LOOK" he shoves his phone in my face.

"madi sang a taylor swift song?" i question, laughing. "NO! LOOK AT THE COMMENTS!" he shouts and then i notice. "oh shit! taylor commented!" i say. "YES WHAT THE FUCK" max says, very excitedly. "madison is gonna freak out" i say, smiling at the thought of her excitement. "me and andrew were screaming! will she be awake? can i call her?" max asks and i look at the time, it's 9:30am. "you can try but she did the show last night so i don't know" i shrug. i know she went to bed late because she texted me but if i say that, max will think it's sus.

max calls and she doesn't answer, so we wait for her to reply.

madison's pov:

i roll over and see the time, it's 12:30pm. oops. may have slept a bit too long. i squint at my phone and see hundreds of notifications.

💬messages abigail

GIRL WAKE TF UP

3 more messages

💬messages george

i hope someone has a defibrillator on standby

📞phone max 3 missed calls

📞phone andrew 3 missed calls

i was so confused. what was going on? i open mine and abigail's chat first.

abigail doesn't reply, so i facetime max. "i've literally just woke up, what's going on?" i say without saying hello. "someone has posted a video of you singing last night and taylor has seen it!" he explains excitedly. "in your famous words, WHAT THE BIG FAT FUCK" i say and max says it back. george's head pops into frame, "i guess you've seen it by the shouting" he laughs. "what the fuck is going on" i say and decide to run downstairs. "GUYS TAYLOR SWIFT SAW ME SINGING" i shout and i get a chorus of reactions. some people already knew, some are shocked. "i haven't even seen the comment" i say, opening instagram and thankfully it's the first post that appears. "INSANELY GOOD? TAYLOR SWIFT SAID I'M INSANELY GOOD?" i shout and have a minor (major)  freak out.

[brucewaynehater101]

I've had a brain worm enter my mind and I can't stop thinking about it warning it gets kinda violent

Imagine:

Evil alternate yj core four kidnap the og core four(I'm gonna use the hero names for the regular yj), the evil ones bring og back the their universe(the evil one) and torture them. (Evil versions are all displayed as pink)

Evil Bart locks Impulse in a freezing room and starves him almost lethally making him unable or simply too tired to use the speed force, keeping him just fed enough that he's not dead but instead just constantly hungry, keeping his body just above hypothermic ranges but too cold to actually use his abilities.

Evil Kon starts messing with superboy's DNA, while this doesn't cause much physical pain for Superboy it does absolutely fuck up his mental state, having someone unconsentually mess with his DNA in the same way he was created? It destroys him, more than getting fangs does, or growing three inches taller, or his hair growing in blonde, or having brown eyes does. Just the fact that this evil version of himself is actively making clones of them and fiddling with his DNA breaks him.

Evil Cassie is one I haven't thought much about, she might honestly just make Wonder girl listen to her friends suffering, or something like that(I don't know much about Wonder girl so if anyone has any recommendations for what to read to get to know her better I'd be so grateful).

But evil Tim....oh evil Tim starts immediately injecting Red Robin with all kinds of toxins, poisons, and drugs while monologuing(sounding like this song[nothing]...when he notices Red Robin growing a resistance to those injections evil Tim starts taking things. Non important organs, chunks of skin, patches of hair, while also starting to destroy Red Robin ability to outwardly express emotions. Like physically express emotions. He slices Red Robin's cheeks open so he's got permanent scars in the form of a smile, he fiddles with Red Robin's vocal cords so he can't raise his voice without being in pain, he surgically removes Red Robin's tear ducts yet comes in every two minutes to put hydrating eye drops in Red Robin eyes. Evil Tim doesn't want Red Robin dead or permanently blind no he just wants to ruin tim..

When they eventually escape, by Superboy getting tired and killing the evil version of himself before throwing the evil version of Bart through several walls and getting Impulse out then Getting Wonder Girl before finally retrieving Red Robin, they somehow find their way back to their original universe. Every single one of them gets hugged by their parents/mentors, Cassie and Kon are crying, Bart is still pretty cold and very hungry so he's eating and being absolutely covered in blankets while Tim is just standing there, Batman is asking him all kinds of questions and constantly repeating the question are you okay but Tim just emptily answers them. No emotion or inflection to his tone, he's completely monotone. After a couple of minutes the young justice end up all staying at Tim's apartment, every two minutes Tim goes to the bathroom and just kinda pours water in his eyes because of how dry they're getting, the other three immediately pick up on this and Kon runs to a store to get eye drops. They do this little routine of putting drops in Tim's eyes for a few weeks before one day as Cassie's getting ready to help Tim with the eye drops Jason climbs through the window, freezing slightly before walking to go grab Tim's first aid kit. As his fixing up whatever wound he has this time Jason questions what Tim and Cassie were doing as he found them with Tim sitting on the couch, head tilted back and eyes being held open by Cassie who's standing behind the couch with a bottle of something positioned over his eyes. Tim tells Jason that he's missing his tear ducts and Jason reasonably freaks the fuck out, cue batman being called and some emotional scene happens only for it to be broken by Cassie who straight up asks Tim if he'd like some artificial tears because both Jason and Bruce are crying but Tim can't. So he straight up just says "y'know what. Yeah, tear me Cassie." Making everyone laugh. A couple days later Damian is looking at Tim very intently and Tim questions him only to be met with ".. something looks different about your eyes." Only for Tim to wide eyed stare at Damian until he notices Tim's missing tear ducts. Cue crack/fluff with the rest of the fam

I ended that pretty weakly but I'm rlly tired and haven't slept yet so sorry if there are a ton of plot holes!♡

Holy shit. This was so dark, but all the colors are beautiful. I've been excited to answer this one due to how aesthetically pleasing it is, lmao.

Carrying on!

Might I say that Tim is just fucked. You really tortured poor Tim that I doubt he'd be able to express any emotions for a long time (not a criticism! Found the methods to be intriguing). Therefore, I think his loved ones would get used to his displays of affection changing.

Some days, even talking hurts. He just remains silent through both mental and physical blocks. Some ways he does this for YJ:

Bart's suit was remade with heaters and coolant that lasts for at least a week. He also hides a shit ton of calorie dense food on Bart and carries some for himself.

Cassie has access to YJ's vitals. When on a mission, she can glance at a screen that details how injured or safe her teammates are

Tim, after getting enthusiastic consent from Kon, reverses any effects. He also finds a way to prevent the DNA manipulation of Kon to his best ability (might not be perfect). He also includes a device that will get rid of all DNA substances Kon leaves behind (like blood, hair, skin, etc.) and gives it to Kon

Through science and magic and whatever, Tim's need to put eye drops in diminishes. He doesn't get them back, but he only needs to put them in every 24 hours or so.

Anyways, nifty and horrifying AU :)

[squeakyleftsneaker]

Watching Voltron for the 1st Time: S7 Ep 12-13

Somehow I am still watching, still present, still accounted for. Stumbling across this clusterfuck in the wild? Have a long explanation of how we got here, or if you prefer shorter explanations, I got recommended this by a middle schooler whose respect I very much NEED (so she takes me seriously when I tell her about science), and now I've gotten far enough along that I feel like I have sunk enough cost to NEED to finish it. I make a list of what I like and don't like and then ramble at the end of a run of a few episodes. I have now finished seven fucking seasons of this show. I'M ALMOST DONE FREE MEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Rare! A Good Decision!

Obligatory Shiro eyeliner appreciation comment

Veronica is so pretty and I am so gay

I'm really struggling here guys uhhhhhhhhhhhhh the artists draw earth very pretty our lil marble-y home looks lovely

I am happy Shiro gets to ruin Sendak. Will we explore the fact that he does it with an arm weapon that resembles Sendak? No. But the thought that it might have happened in a world where this show was actually developed with any time at all is nice

I actually really like the Shiro and Sendak fight. Very nice environmental use, very good stakes, solid motivation.

I am also very okay with Keith getting to murk Sendak. "As many times as it takes" and all that. [EDIT since apparently this seemed unclear. I am okay with this because I think Shiro as a character is shown as being very burdened by having been forced to kill BY Sendak. Shiro not having to kill Sendak, to me, in a better show, could be representative of the burden of having to kill being lifted from him at last. idk what to tell you man. That kind of story would speak to me as meaningful]

I have so little nice to say about robeasts but at least they remind me of the fun stuff in OG Voltron.

The new robeast is a great Haggar moment

Self sacrifice is a very poorly handled theme of this show fr but I can theoretically appreciate it

If I had any goodwill left in me for this show I would be like "What a great way to set up season 8 with the Altean in the robeast" but I don't so I will just say in a better show it'd be a good move but I have faith they'll bungle it.

Typical. A Bad Decision.

I cannot believe this fucking launch sequence has to be so long every time bro I can't take it anymore

The technobabble in this show bro I "Particle emission amplification" I can't do this anymore let's cross beams like in Ghostbusters I am PHYSICALLY tired as a result of this shit. The Death Star never explained to me how it worked with made up science words. The Death Star just murked a planet on camera and we comprehended the threat. SEE MY POINT VOLTRON????

In all honesty the second you have to explain battle strategy to your viewers mid-fight scene rather than just letting the fight play out you've failed to make it work.

STOP EXPLAINING EVERYTHING WITH YOUR FAKE MADE UP SCIENCE OMFG YOU DON'T NEED TO EXPLAIN YOU JUST NEED TO D O THINGS IK YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO THAT

This air fight really has so many moving parts that were just. Not adequately planned for and. Well. Usually I say the fights are a strength of this show. This certainly was not the case here. AND THIS IS A SEASON FINALE???

We've reached a point where not a single paladin feels like even their little trope selves.

I am OKAY with Keith killing Sendak because I think in a better show Shiro's original "I need Sendak dead" moment would've been a big thing for him (it makes sense. He lost his head back in season 1 and launched him into space. Having him NOT have to kill Sendak now after being forced to kill in the arena by Sendak? Okay!) but this moment is just robbed of ANY of that because. Well. WELL. THE SHOW NEVER EXPLORES ANY OF THAT. SO. YAY SENDAK DEAD IG BUT IT MEANS NOTHING NOW

I also think really missed opportunity to have that mean something in that we haven't seen Keith and Shiro really speak AT ALL since Shiro's mind controlled clone tried to murder Keith and Keith broke him free and then Keith had Shiro's dead consciousness transfered to the clone body like what even are they to each other now. Show has Keith say they're brothers, then they don't act like siblings or really ANYTHING??? And now I'm supposed to think Keith murking Sendak matters NOT COMPARED TO ANYTHING ELSE HE'S DONE AND CERTAINLY NOT TO THEIR RELATIONSHIP WHICH DOESN'T EXIST THIS SEASON

Everything in this show becomes a giant mecha inevitably and I think this is modestly lame and uncreative

For the record I predicted the Atlas becoming a giant mecha a few episodes ago and I still think it's kind of lame

The IDGAF Atlas truly does nothing for me I am NOT moved

Self sacrifice is a very poorly handled theme of this show and practically it pisses me off that the show does nothing to really drive home how significant it is. With the blades that die, with Keith pulling that move at Naxela, with Shiro, with the paladins now, it goes on. If you want to examine self sacrifice but you're unwilling to look at what it does to people, if you're unwilling to look at people's relationships and the love that DRIVES people to do that, then you shouldn't! There is no self sacrifice without someone to sacrifice yourself FOR.

Bro what is Axca doing here CAN WE NOT HAVE THAT POOR GIRLIE EXIST OUTSIDE OF THE CONTEXT OF SOME FUCKING MAN FIRST IT WAS LOTOR NOW IT'S KEITH ISTG SHE IS NOT A PERSON TO THESE WRITERS I AM SO MAD FR

I finished this season and I feel nothing at all! Wow! Here's the thing right. This show has a lot of potential tucked away in a soup of bad decisions and a supremely rushed development. I WANT to appreciate what could've been.

But that also feels like appreciating something that is entirely constructed. Yeah, if there'd been a lot of things going differently this show could've been good. If my mom had balls she'd be my dad, if you will. I can't appreciate what's not there. I just. Man! Plenty of things have pretty good concepts. If the actual execution isn't there behind it, there's nothing. Most sci fi has a fun concept. I mean come on, "What if some people got shot into space and there were ALIENS and GIANT ROBOTS" is really hard to make seem boring as an idea. So like. When I mention good ideas being in this show as the only positive that's like... just the fact that the genre conventions are FUN.

I get it man. I get that making a whole animated show in under three years is an impossible task. WHICH. BY THE WAY. IS WHY YOU SHOULDN'T DO IT! It's just. Unthinkable to me that anyone thought this was a good idea. When I am done with this show and therefore unafraid of spoilers/fandom interpretation leakage into my interpretation of the text, I am going to seek out interviews and explanations with showrunners because it is BAFFLING to me that anyone thought this timeline was a good idea.

I've said before that the story feels like it's just moving characters from A to B to C without much thought as to the journey. The meat on the bones. The depth to the story. And that kind of. HAPPENS with first drafts. It does! And you can see the first draft traces all over the show– characters suddenly changing in characterization with very little explanation (cough Lance and Allura and Keith) (Lance's characterization is all over the damn map! That's because they probably MEANT for him to have a pretty significant development as the audience's surrogate, but they just. Did not have time to write the in-betweens) (Allura just doesn't get nailed down at ALL and especially the second they throw Lotor in they forget about anything they had established about her) (And Keith is. Well. The fucking 180 they did on him to the point where he is now. Boring. Without showing us anything)

The plot itself has SO MANY significant moments happening offscreen, or in exposition dumps, or in flashbacks to things we didn't see! There's threads brought up and abandoned (the Blade of Marmora is being hunted down, the fact that Lotor made Voltron his representative to the Galra empire and that's never addressed, hell even Shiro's time as the arena champion!) that would also probably get worked out and refined WITH TIME.

There's also a really spectacular amount of gays that got buried this season. Which. Uh. Makes me a lil uncomfortable! Ezor and Zethrid our space lesbians, fucking Adam. Hell even Shiro himself if you really want to nitpick lmfao. No gay left unburied! There's characters that they just have no clue what to do with (Acxa) that are likely remnants of some plan that never came to fruition.

This show is underbaked! It didn't finish marinating before they threw it in the oven and it CERTAINLY didn't finish cooking in the oven. You can dress it up any which way you want, it doesn't WORK.

And that's a shame because there's a lot of talent on the show! I've spoken before about how great the performances are, how beautiful the art is, and when the writers have something substantial they've written, it's really really lovely (the Keith and Shiro fight and in general their development through the first six seasons is excellent and has subsequently just been lost in the season 7 shuffle) (I really loved Allura and the Balmera as well). But there's just SO MUCH that doesn't have any development.

It's a children's show (or at a minimum geared to middle/very early high schoolers) and they've got characters KILLING other characters and that's never explored! I don't understand how this came to be! Main characters killing other characters on screen in ANY work of fiction, even those for adults, is typically treated with gravity!

There is also how poorly this show handles race which..... I think is also something that would've benefitted from Further Marination Before Attempting To Finish It Off. All of the things I've mentioned about it in prior posts are not in and of themselves inherently problematic if they are handled with some sort of grace.

I do not think this draft of Voltron possessed much grace.

Ultimately the themes of this show just. Are lacking in every way. What is the point of this show? Self sacrifice? In some sense? But that's certainly not explored. To show us absolute power corrupts absolutely? It doesn't! Not in canon! Oppression and colonization are bad? Certainly not a narratively challenged idea in the text!

Ultimately I think the only thing this show successfully says is "Hey isn't space pretty? Isn't it fun to draw bigass robot lion spaceships? Isn't this fight cool?" Which. I think is kind of a shame because of how much the show brings up and either fails to address or just. Reinforces (again, the symbol of peace in this universe is a weapon)

None of the characters are friends, the few that have meaningful relationships are just kind of dropped or forgotten about, the characters don't feel like themselves. I feel like they're all just dolls being moved around. An empty husk of a figure so you can choose your favorite color and a toy they pilot and pretend YOU are your favorite trope, buy it now!

And maybe I was the real clown to hope for more than that when that's what this show was about all the way back in its first iteration, but I don't feel like it's my fault when the openings of this show promised so much, only to deliver on none of it.

ANYWAYYYYYYYYy uhhhhh idk I do have so many fucking thoughts as a result of this show so send me asks DM me do whatever if you wish to access more of them bc I feel like my brain is going to explode like there is so much about this show in it that is. Giving me great distress.

PS: I’m editing this to add that if you don’t get where I’m coming from with something, you can always ask! I’ll clarify, we can discuss it. But I really would appreciate if you come into it in, yknow, good faith given the fact that I am a person YOU DONT KNOW and assuming that you have a better picture of what I mean about something than I do is kinda unfair to me.

[witless-winion1]

Part 2 of Val’s Day Treats series- Hammocks

Elpenor was exhausted. 

He stared at the ceiling with dead eyes, listening to the snores of dozens of men around him, desperate to join them, and yet his mind simply wouldn’t shut up. Perhaps he could go steal a drink from the kitchen…but if Captain caught him doing that again, he might just scold him and put him on night duty. 

Actually, that wouldn’t be so terrible. Perimedes was on night duty this week, right? 

When did that end again?

Elpenor rolled over and stared to his left, where he could see Perimedes’ empty hammock swinging between Polites and Yianni. 

…fuck it. 

He slowly got up, careful not to disturb anyone else, and wandered over to his friend’s hammock, climbing in. It was bigger than him, since Perimedes was too. 

And it smelled like him. All of the men on the boat usually smelled like salt and sweat, but Perimedes somehow always seemed to have this subtle note of cardamom. Elpenor buried his head into his friend’s blanket and inhaled deeply. Oh, gods…

How does he smell so good..? Elpenor wondered, relaxing as he curled Perimedes’ blanket around himself, his eyes fluttering closed. Is he stealing the captain’s perfumes or something? Does the captain wear perfumes? He probably would for Peneeloopeeeee, but…or maybe he made a deal with Aphrodite…yeah…or if there’s a god of good smells…who would that be…

Something large and warm squeezed his shoulder, a deep, tired voice rousing him from his doze. “Hey. Elpenor.” 

Elpenor hummed groggily, head shifting as he hugged the blanket tighter. Had he fallen asleep..?

“Elle.” There was a bit of amusement in his friend’s familiar tone now. “What are you doing in my hammock?” 

Elpenor forced his eyes open, and he shifted a little to see a large, imposing shadow looming over him. But he could tell, even in the darkness, there was a smile on his face. “…hey, Peri…” he yawned sleepily. 

“Hello. Are you going to get out of my hammock so I can sleep?” Callused fingers met his hair, brushing at his curls. 

“..n..noo.”

“No?”

“No.” 

There was a pause, then he heard a small huff of laughter. “Okay, scoot over, then.” 

Elpenor did his best, feeling his larger friend climb in beside him, his wide chest pressed against Elpenor’s back, closely squished together in the hammock that was built for one. 

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and Perimedes’ stubbly chin rested on top of his head with a deep sigh. Elpenor basked in the warm feeling of his friend cuddling closer and relaxing, squirming to roll over and tuck his head into the crook of Perimedes’ neck. 

Creeaaaakkk

Elpenor made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, while Perimedes lifted his head to glance at the source of the sound, the woven strings that connected the hammock to the ceiling. 

twing

twing

twing 

…

Wait-

Elpenor made a muffled yelp as Perimedes’ arms tightened around his middle, a snap of the final string breaking, and the fabric gave way beneath them. Elpenor gasped, grabbing Perimedes’s blanket and shoulder and burrowing deeper into both of them before they hit the floor with a loud thump on the wooden planks. Perimedes groaned, his shoulder and back taking most of the contact, cushioning Elpenor. 

…right. That had only been built to hold the weight of one man. 

They lay there, frozen, both recovering from the mild shock and holding their breath to see if any of the men would stir. 

Thank Hypnos, they didn’t. 

Perimedes’ arms loosened around him, and Elpenor reluctantly did the same, sliding off his chest onto the floor with a pout. 

Perimedes sat up slowly, the collapsed hammock falling off of him as he took in the damage. Elpenor stared up at him silently, feeling a tiny bit guilty for being the cause of the hammock’s breaking, but he’d been so cozy… 

“…whatever. I’ll just get a new one from storage in the morning,” Perimedes huffed, laying back down on the floor. He reached out and pulled Elpenor closer again, his face dipping once more to bury in Elpenor’s messy curls. Elpenor just leaned back into his friend’s chest with a sigh of relief. 

“We just gonna…stay like this tonight?”

“Yeah. An’ if the captain asks, you’re explaining. Since this was your fault, you bastard.”

“Hmph.”

[fukanouna]

Close your eyes (it's okay now)

Summary: Wanda finds herself alone in the afterlife. Then she reunites with a familiar redhead.

Set after the events of DS2: MoM.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 934

A/N: Hello :)

---

Wanda felt like she was floating.

She didn't know where she was and could not open her eyes. Everything felt so heavy, yet somehow, she felt so free. The malevolent whispers of the Darkhold were gone from her mind. Wanda wasn't sure when was the last time she was able to think with such a level of clarity.

Then, Wanda felt her feet land on something kind of solid. She sank into the ground slightly and heard the gentle sound of ocean waves crashing. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself on some kind of beach. A seemingly endless forest stood behind her, while a setting sun that peaked above the horizon was in front of her, painting the skies a fiery red and orange. For some reason, Wanda found herself in a sleeveless cotton white dress and bare feet lightly buried under the sand. The look didn't suit her.

Not after what she's done.

Wanda strolled along the shore, taking in the warm breeze and the salty scent of the ocean. She walked for what felt like hours, yet she never grew tired. No matter how far she walked, there was no sign of any life. Birds, fish, crustaceans, people - there was nothing. Just Wanda, the land, the sea, and the sky.

Then she came across a large log on the sand facing the ocean.

But what caught her attention was not the log itself, but who was sitting on it.

Natasha turned her head and smiled.

"Hey, Wanda."

Wanda almost started crying.

"Natasha?" She was wearing a black tactical suit that wasn't familiar to Wanda, and her hair woven in a side braid.

Natasha patted the space next to her. "Come sit with me." When Wanda stayed frozen in place, she tilted her head to one side. "What's wrong?"

"The last thing I remember was telling Strange I was destroying every copy of the Darkhold and bringing down the castle atop of Mount Wundagore," Wanda said quietly, looking far off across the ocean, before settling her gaze back on the other woman. "I'm dead."

Natasha's gaze softened. "You are."

"Does that mean you aren't real?"

"I'm not part of your imagination, if that's what you're asking," the Widow chuckled. "I just suddenly found myself here, waiting. Somehow, I just knew it was you I was waiting for. Maybe it's because now I also have ties to an Infinity Stone."

Wanda felt the incoming tears in the back of her throat. There was so much kindness in the way Natasha looked at her, the way she spoke to her with such gentleness, it was too much when Wanda didn't deserve any of that. She felt the Chaos Magic flowing through every fiber of her being, and in one large motion of her arms, the pure cotton dress was consumed by blood red energy streams and revealed her as the Scarlet Witch. She thought Natasha would recoil from her new form, but the other woman remained expressionless.

"After what I've done, after killing and hurting so many innocent people, I don't deserve your kindness," Wanda said with strained voice. She started down at her blackened fingertips that were still tainted from the Darkhold. "I don't deserve to see you," she added more quietly. "I'm no longer the Wanda you knew."

Several seconds passed before Natasha stood up and placed herself right in front of Wanda. The smile returned to the Widow's face as she took Wanda's hands into her own. "You'll always be my Wanda."

Tears poured from Wanda's eyes. "You don't understand—"

"I do understand," Natasha interrupted her. "You saw my memories. What I used to do, what I used to be. Yet that never stopped you from wanting us to grow closer." Her thumbs slowly swiped over and over across the back of Wanda's hands in a comforting manner. "I don't know what you did and I don't need to know. Because none of that matters anymore. In the end, you tried to make amends. To no longer let the hurt control you and do good again. That's why I know you're still my Wanda."

Wanda closed her eyes and sobbed hard as Natasha spoke to her and made no effort in resisting when she felt Natasha's arms wrapped around her. She couldn't remember the last time someone held her like this and forgot what it was like to be loved. Not wanting to separate, she reciprocated the embrace and held Natasha as tightly as she physically could.

"You did well, Wanda. You can rest now," Natasha whispered softly into her ear.

It took awhile before Wanda calmed down and finally joined Natasha on the log, shoulder to shoulder.

"What now?" Wanda asked.

Natasha shrugged. "Whatever you want. We have all the time in the universe. What's the first thing you want to do?"

Wanda hummed thoughtfully. Her eyes stared at the warm ball of light that stood across the ocean from them. "Watch the sunset with you," she answered with a smile.

"How romantic of you," Natasha remarked with a slight smirk. "Trying to make me swoon, Maximoff?"

"Perhaps," the witch smirked back. "Is it working?"

"Actually, yes."

Wanda and Natasha laughed together.

While the sun slowly dipped below the horizon to reveal the stars in the sky, the two of them sat in silence as the ocean breeze blew past them. There wasn't much time left until Wanda had to decide what to do next in the afterlife, but as she glanced over at Natasha, she was immediately comforted knowing she wasn't alone.

And that was more than enough.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading :)