#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. 

[bunnys-kisses]

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.

[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.”

[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 :)

[thetomorrowshow]

“Griiaaaan! It’s cold.”

“It’s not cold. Be quiet.”

And the stupid thing is, it is cold. Grian’s never lived in a desert before, but he’d expected it to be hot all the time, not just during the day. It’s the desert, after all—the only things that grow here are spindly leafless bushes, and all the animals that he’s spotted spend most of their time in the shade of sand mounds and rocks.

Most of the nights have still been a bit warm for what Grian’s used to, but apparently the winter’s coming on fast, and it surely has nothing to do with a certain Red King. An execution had occurred just this morning, and now Ren is Red, and apparently the rest of the world has been suffering from it.

“Yes it is,” grumbles the pile of blankets beside him, and Grian sighs.

He’s supposed to be on watch alone, for half the night, then wake up Scar to watch the other half. Scar, however, thinks that keeping watch is stupid, even when Grian has repeatedly stressed that he is no longer the only Red on the server, and one of the others is a very dangerous enemy to them.

“If you’re cold, get in bed,” Grian tells him, and Scar shifts and bit before speaking, teeth clacking together exaggeratedly.

“It’s c-cold there too!”

Grian rolls his eyes, wraps his arms a little tighter around himself. His sweater’s getting pretty scraggly these days. He just had to darn the elbow last week, but that’s about the extent of his knitting skills. If it falls apart completely, he’ll be stuck in just his undershirt, nothing to keep him warm in the approaching winter.

“You know, there’s a way to make us both warm,” Scar teases, his head emerging from the blankets to wink at Grian. Grian shoves him.

“Scar! Stop it and go to bed!”

“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean anything!” Scar says innocently. “I just meant if we were both in bed right now, we could be sharing body heat! I don’t know what you thought I meant. You have a dirty mind, Grian.”

Grian buries his face in his hands. He never should have signed up for this. Out of the ten-some other players in the immediate vicinity, why couldn’t he have blown up anyone else? Why couldn’t he end up with loyalty pledged to Tango, or Etho, or literally any other player on the server?

“C’mon, Grian,” Scar wheedles. “Nobody’s gonna attack! We have the cactus walls, and the lava moat, and the alarm system you rigged today! Even if someone did try to take some sand, we’d know.”

“Right. The alarm system that consists of a bunch of bells and string, which goes off at the slightest breeze. I have so much faith in it.”

“Great, we’re on the same page! So it’ll be totally safe for us to sleep together.” “Scar! I will push you off my mountain!”

“Hey! I resent that—it’s as much my mountain as it is yours.”

Grian lifts his head. Enough of Scar is visible that he can see the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

And somehow, he’s half tempted to agree with Scar just to get him to go to bed.

It is pretty chilly out, after all. And he’s very tired. He’d only volunteered to take first watch because he really didn’t want to be woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle. First watch just means staying up a couple of extra hours and then sleeping soundly.

He glances at Scar again, who—oh, he’s making the puppy-dog eyes—

“Fine,” Grian grumbles, hauling himself to his feet. Scar scrambles up as well and runs for the house, sand flying behind him.

“At least shake the blankets out!” calls Grian. Scar ignores him.

Does he really want to get into bed with a madman? All it takes is the Red haze getting to Scar, and he’s dead in an instant. No armor, no weapon, nothing to protect him from being stabbed in the gut by his supposed ally.

Then a bitingly cold gust of wind blows sand in his nostrils, and Grian decides he’s rather fed up with all this desert stuff and would much rather be asleep, Scar or no. They should be safe to not worry about watches until tomorrow—after all, Scar’s done nothing to torment anyone (other than Grian) this week! Never mind that it’s Monday night. 

He heads inside, shucking off his sweater right outside the door to shake it off. His bedroom is the first one on the left, putting Scar deeper in the house and therefore safer, so he turns to go in there—

Of course. Scar’s in his bed.

He’d held onto some strand of hope that maybe Scar had been joking about sleeping together, maybe he’d just been trying to get Grian to go to sleep so he could set out on some dastardly scheme without anyone to hold him back. But Scar’s there, blanket pulled up to his chin, a nightcap (where did he get that?) on his head.

“Why, hello there, Grian!” Scar grins at him. “Ready for some sleepy-times-with-Scar? I’ve been warming the bed up for you.”

Grian almost walks right back out the door. Suddenly, being on watch doesn’t sound that bad.

This might be the last full night of sleep he gets for a while.

“All right. Ground rules,” Grian says, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Scar cheers, arms up in the air, the blanket falling off to reveal a grey six-pack and copious amounts of sand.

“Scar! Put a shirt on! That’s the first rule, wear clothes!”

“But-but-but skin contact, Grian!”

“I am putting my foot down! Clothes on in bed!”

Muttering darkly to himself, Scar rolls out of bed, wearing nothing but his nightcap and a pair of shorts. Grian takes the opportunity to tear the sheets and covers off the bed, shaking them out before stretching them back over the thin mattress. He really ought to change the sheets, but he doesn’t have the wool nor the time to make an extra set. They’ll have to make do with this for now, and maybe he can take a moment tomorrow to wash them.

Scar’s put on a t-shirt, which Grian supposes is the best he’s going to get. He kicks off his shoes and socks, strips out of his jeans and dusts his legs off. There’s enough sand clinging to his leg hair that his skin has practically changed color, a clear line separating the brown and starkly pale from where his socks had been. That’s just awful. Of all places, why on earth did Scar have to pick the worst one?

He can dip into the river to bathe tomorrow, and maybe he can convince Scar to wash off as well (not likely, seeing as Scar has as much aversion to a bath as a feral cat, but it’s worth a try).

He’s washing the sheets anyway. It won’t be a problem to get them this little bit dirtier.

Grian climbs into bed, and Scar hops in next to him immediately. “Second ground rule—” Grian starts, but before he can finish, Scar has almost entirely enveloped him in a burning hot hug.

He can feel the tension just ooze out of Scar’s body as they lie there, Scar’s body burning his at every place they touch. The man sighs, burying his nose in Grian’s hair.

And Grian. . . .

Grian relaxes too.

Just a bit! And it’s just—it’s really just because he’s lying down, and he’s been so terribly tired. No other reason.

Still. He’s hesitant to push Scar away. He does, of course, sitting up to pull up the covers and thereby disrupting Scar’s hold.

“Second rule,” he repeats. “No touching. No cuddling, hugging, or anything of the sort.”

“That’s a bad rule.”

Grian sighs. “Oh yeah? Why?”

Scar gestures wildly, almost knocking the candle off the bedside table. Grian leans over him and grabs it just in time, blows out the flame. “Well—well, the whole reason we’re sleeping together is for shared body warmth! No touching totally ruins that!”

Grian shouldn’t give in easily. He really shouldn’t. But now bereft of Scar’s touch, he feels even colder than before. All the burning points of contact are just numb, now. And Grian really wants to be warm.

“All right, fine.”

Scar tackles him before he can even lie all the way down. Grian decides to just accept it, honestly. What else can he do?

“Third rule: no talking. We are here to sleep.”

Scar nods, releasing Grian for a moment to mime zipping up his lips.

Good. Grian lays back against his pillow, pulling the blanket up to his collarbone, and sighs. It’s not too bad, really. At least this way, if someone comes to kill them in their sleep, they’ll go out together.

That’s . . . a weird thought to have. Grian’s in the middle of decidedly not analyzing it when something ice cold presses against his legs.

He definitely does not screech as he kicks against it. “Scar! Get your cold feet away from me!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just that I’ve been so cold ever since I died, and you’re like a mini space heater over here!”

Grian groans, trying to maneuver his legs in such a way that as much of the covers as possible are between his legs and Scar’s. “I’m about to bring back rule number two, so behave.”

Scar falls silent again, and Grian tries to relax (in his arms). It’s not difficult to feel the pull of sleep. It’s not difficult to let sleep claim him, his limbs heavy and brain slowing to a soupy mush. It feels so nice to not be poised for battle, not be planning their next move. He hasn’t felt this peaceful in weeks.

“Grian?” comes a whisper from beside him.

He’s suddenly aware that he’s been drifting. He's not sure how long it’s been. Hours? Minutes?

“Rule number three,” he grouses.

A shifting of the covers, pulling them taut. “Sorry. Don’t worry about it!”

Reluctantly, Grian drags his eyes open. The world is still dark, the air as still as before. Scar had started to ask a question, and curse him for it because he knows that Grian’s too curious to let it go now. He has to know what Scar wanted. “No. Wha’ is it?”

“What do you miss most about Hermitcraft?”

Hermitcraft. He hasn’t properly thought about it in a while. It’s not that he’d forgotten it, but the longer they spend in 3rd Life, the farther away it is in his mind. This is—what, the sixth week?

Six weeks since he last did anything with his mansion. Six weeks since he restocked the Barge.

“My diamonds,” he says after a moment. “I was so rich, Scar. I had stacks of diamond blocks. Not that I don’t miss other things,” he adds. “Good community, and my mansion, and all that. I just miss the security of so much money.”

Scar hums into his hair, a shiver running down Grian’s back at the tingly feeling. A minute passes, and while Grian’s still barely keeping his eyes open he’s also still curious.

“What about you? What do you miss?”

“Jellie,” Scar says instantly, some sort of wistful longing in his voice that Grian hasn’t ever heard from him.

It’s understandable, of course. It’s his cat. It’s just that the entire time they’ve been playing this death game, Scar has never wanted something as badly as he wants Jellie right now. It’s touching, in a way—the idea that his love for that cat is so strong that even his Red name can’t make it waver.

And in another way, it’s annoying. Because somehow, Scar has retained the capacity to love and want and he’s only felt that way about a cat.

And Grian is definitely not jealous of a cat, of all things. That would be—that would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

If he were fully awake right now, he’d probably stomp off to his creeper farm or go dig sand for a couple of hours until he's completely forgotten about these gnawing feelings and can focus.

But sleepy Grian acknowledges them, holds them close to his chest, and lets himself feel how desperately he wants to be wanted.

Right now, he’s as close to Scar as he can get, head pressed against his chest and strong arms around him. If anyone happened upon them right now, they would instantly assume the obvious.

Yet Grian’s never felt more alone.

“Scar,” he whispers before he can stop himself. “If I wasn’t here, would you miss me?”

Scar's been shuffling around every couple of seconds, so it’s apparent when he goes utterly still.

“Um. You’ve taken me a bit by surprise here, G,” Scar laughs nervously. Sleepy Grian takes that exact moment as a chance to listen to the rational side of Grian’s brain, which is screaming for him to shut up, run away, hide.

“Sorry,” Grian immediately says, face burning. “I—forget I said anything—”

Then Scar presses a kiss into his dirty hair, and Grian’s brain short-circuits.

“Of course I would miss you,” Scar murmurs. “I mean, we all would, but I would miss you the most. I didn’t put you on a llama and carry you away to the desert for nothing.”

Scar’s voice sounds so very fond that Grian can’t help it when his stomach flips a little. He pushes his head up against Scar’s chin, curls a little closer into his body. Scar really is as cold as he’d said. Grian finds himself wondering if he runs warmer normally, which of course makes his brain send him all sorts of ways he can find out when they get back to Hermitcraft.

Not that that will ever happen. This is—this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just two bros, cuddling and falling asleep together. Hermitcraft—and even just tomorrow—will be back to normal.

And perhaps most importantly, Grian cannot allow Scar to become a weakness. He cannot let their enemies see him like this, exhausted and yearning and lonely. He has to be strong to keep the both of them safe.

For now, though, he can just pretend like the game doesn’t exist. He can press closer to Scar, his skin burning in such a good way, and live in Scar’s arms.

In the morning, things will go back to normal.

And when Scar whispers, rasping words loud in the silence of the room, “Grian, I really really like you, I think,” Grian pretends to be asleep.

[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 :)

[lover-of-mine]

Can I submit for the buddie begins idea. Obviously it all starts in the kitchen. And maybe the back and fourth you guys are talking about is definitely the living room. But can we please have the Christopher r3lated stuff happen in there. Like Eddie sort of storms in there and vaguely gestures around. Look how weird we are, I made you gaurdian to my son 2 years after knowing you and didn't tell you for a year!!! It would be such validation for me as a viewer to get will acknowledgement!!!!

Okay, like, my plan is starting in the dining room actually, then you have Eddie run to the living room and then you have Buck chase Eddie into the kitchen. Love love LOVE living room to talk about Chris. Hear me out, we're mirroring situations. In my head, the buddie beings episode happens after one of them almost dies the episode before and it pushes Buck into action. I didn't have something specific in mind until @lesbianrobin made this post and I legit keep building my buddie begins fantasy on top of that situation. Read their post, it's incredible, but basically it suggests Eddie and Maddie in a situation and almost dying, Buck thinks he's gonna lose them both, somehow both of them make it out, but for a second when Buck sees Maddie, he thinks that means Eddie is dead, until he sees Eddie and rushes to him. So picking up from that. Don't make anything actually happen at the scene for whatever reason, like, end the episode with both of them hugging or whatever. I like this idea a lot because it makes the episode about madney too, so we're not forcing 2 episodes solely about buddie. Then we open the next episode the way I pitched the buddie begins episode, you start with Buck a bit frantic as he knocks on Eddie's door. At this point, we all know they're in love with each other and are just waiting, it's day time, Chris is at school. And we start the conversation in the dining room. Why the dining room? During Eddie's breakdown conversations happened there. So we have both of them sit down on the table to talk trauma backwards. The most recent thing, Eddie gets aggravated and starts talking about the lightning, all around those we are getting the flashbacks the way I had said to add some more context to scenes we already have. We reach the shooting. Shooting makes Buck bring up the will. Eddie then decides he can't hear Buck talk about the will as a backup plan or whatever and starts moving towards the living room where they talk about Buck's place in Chris' life. Why is that important to be in the living room? Eddie fights with Shannon about her place in Chris' life in the living room, that scene in 408 where Buck is babysitting? Living room. Eddie asking Buck to talk to Chris during 710? Living room, so your idea to keep Chris stuff there is genius. Again, all these are weaved with flashbacks to add new context to buddie moments, Buck keeps fighting about it "why did you hide it from me" and Eddie decides to run, so he goes down the hallway back into the kitchen and we get the last flashback, the one with Bobby telling Eddie about Buck while trying to poach him from station 6. We're back in the present, Buck is following Eddie into the kitchen, this is the first time they stop without something between them, through the whole thing keep something physically between them, the table, the couch, and we're in the kitchen now. The place of vulnerability. Where they listen to each other. Buck asks what does it all mean, Eddie is mumbling excuses. Buck gets tired and just says something kinda like "because it kinda sounds like you love me" and Eddie kinda looks like a deer caught in headlights "and I love you but you need to want this" Buck gets closer "do you want this?" they're close enough to touch "do you want me?" and then Eddie is reaching for Buck while nodding "yeah-i love you-just come here" and they are kissing. Bam, buddie is canon, history is made.

Yes, I've spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about this kspakapakapkapaa I can see it so clearly. Come on 911, just hire me, I can do so much for the show.

[themoonsbride]

Just Want You To Be My, Emergency Contanct .

pairing; Jace Wayland x Gn!reader

Summary; Your body has been pushed to its limit and you faint, mid mission, with no word to Jace about it.

warnings; demons, fainting, body giving out, description of injury, mentions of death and denial

a/n; SUPRISE JACE FIC EVERYONE <3 HAPPY FRIDAY

--×♥︎×--

Your adrenaline was pumping through the roof, your breathing was rough and unsteady, it burned your nostrils how harshly you'd been breathing in. Sweat was beaded on your forehead and trapping itself under your clothes, making you feel uncomfortable, but too fixated on killing all the demons around you to care.

You and the rest of the crew were out on a mission, You were fighting with Isabelle. Jace and Alec were somewhere else in the huge layer you'd broken into.

wether or not these were summoned demons or just ones who seemed to have ended up here on their own somehow, you didn't know. Your mind felt fuzzy and blank, your clothes were covered in dirt and blood.

You saw Isabelle out of your perberferal vision, she was busy taking on 2 different demons.

In a way you had looked up to her even if you both were around the same age, but she was always extremely independent and spoke up for herself.

And she was really, really good at fighting when it came to missions, she was always self aware.

The demons you were taking on had big claws, and they seemed sharp. They had the arms and legs of dogs and disfigured black heads that you couldn't even describe into words of what it looked like.

But it was horrifying to look at. And you'd been doing your best to dodge the claws of the beasts as you fought, trying to swing at them with your blades and fists.

Your mind felt overwhelmed as you started to feel that feeling in your throat you'd develop before you cried.

But your waterline was far from wet with salt. It felt as though there was eletric hot wire tightening itself around your throat. Your body felt tired and sore from how much work you'd been forcing onto yourself lately.

You weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to attempt to kill the demons off before your legs gave out, you turned your head over to Isabelle.

"Isabelle!" you called out.

"a bit busy here!" she shouted back sounding frustrated, though it'd only been from her concentration being interrupted.

You grunted and groaned as you felt your body starting to cave in, doing all you could to force yourself to keep fighting, your feet were swelling in pain, and your whole body now felt as though the figurative barbed wire that was making your throat sore has wrapped itself around it.

You felt your fingertips tingle and your body weakened more and more.

"I..Isabelle!" You faintly yelled, She shoved her blade right through the demons skull, killing it as it turned to goop and began to dismember more until it was a slimy pile of nothing.

She turned around, nostrils flared and eyes wide. She called your name and watched as one of the demons gashed it's claws into your right thigh and forearm. She gasped as she ran over whilst your vision blurred and soon faded into pitch black.

--×♥︎×--

Jace and Alec had finished their part of the mission and were now in the institute, waiting for you and Isabelle.

And soon that waiting for 15 minutes, turned into 20, which faded from 20 to 30, which ended up being into an hour.

At this point Jace wasn't even aware that Isabelle had returned, all he could think about was you, and how you might've died.

You couldn't have died, no, he didn't want to let himself beileve you died, not without knowing.

In reality, you weren't dead, obviously. You were with Isabelle, in her room, resting in her bed as her and Alec helped give you antibiotics and put a protection rune above your left wrist.

"Does Jace know were here?" Isabelle questioned her brother Alec, he turned to her, his hands at his sides.

"He should know." And then he left to go get more medicine to help your limps fully heal from its wounds. It would most definitely leave scars.

It took about 2 hours for you to awake, which meant Jace had spent the last 3 in denial about you being "dead"

It was silly, really. Did he really think Isabelle would've let you die? With how responsible she always is? Yeah right, she wouldn't let you die even if she were 3 states away.

"You should take a lukewarm shower, clean off those wounds carefully and get a chance to wash all the dirt and blood out of your hair." Isabelles voice spoke in an English, firm accent as she leaned against the doorway of her bathroom.

You looked over at her, sitting up, nodding your head.

"Does Jace know were back?"

"No clue." She handed you a towel and strided over to her dresser, assuming she was getting you some more comfortable clothing for after you got out. you simply just nodded to yourself before closing the door to the bathroom.

--×♥︎×--

You were walking around the institute, specifically aiming for Jaces room, you were hoping he'd known you were here and not in a ditch somewhere.

Once you arrived you knocked on the door lightly, which was quickly answered, once his eyes were met with yours, he let out a breathe he seemed to have been holding almost all his life.

"You're alive." He said relieved, he looked on edge and still dirty from earlier.

"Yeah I'm alive?" you said looking at him strangely, so he did think you died, how lowly of him to think of Isabelle.

"I haven't seen you or Isabelle in almost 4 hours, Y/n."

"Alec didn't tell you we came back?"

"No? he knew before I did and didn't tell me?"

"clearly not." you smiled at him.

"sorry you thought I've been dead for 4 hours" you laughed at your own words from how ridiculous it sounded, but there was a part of you inside that truly did feel empathy for Jace, it must have been terrible not knowing where the both of you were after so long with no word from anyone.

"I'm so glad you arent." He said stepping closer to you, you knew you had feelings for Jace for awhile now, You were both in the library and he was helping you identify runes and memorize them for worst case scenarios. He'd cracked a joke and the both of you ended up laughing together for almost 10 minutes, and the best part was, was that the joke was horrid and not even that funny.

"yeah me too."

"no, Y/n, seriously."

"I'm being just as serious as you are"

"really then?"

"yes??"

"more serious than this?"

And suddenly, his finger was under your chin, gently lifting it up for you to look at him and then your lips connected, the earth started to spin and fireworks of butterflies exploded in your stomach, untying the knot it put itself into.

[ro-written]

Don't Wanna Fall In Love pt. 1 - C.Y

Tags/Warnings: gn!reader, player!Yeonjun, college!AU, bestie!Wooyoung, cursing, mentions of sex (no smut though!), partying, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2.3k

Playlist:

“No Role Modelz” by J. Cole “Don’t Wanna Fall In Love” by Kyle

Part 2

Choi Yeonjun was known around campus for a variety of reasons. He was attractive, had decent grades, and was in a well-known friend group everyone wanted to join.

And he was a player.

Everyone knew this. And yet everyone seemed to think they could change him. Lock him down in a relationship and claim him as a trophy—an easy ride into popularity at school. 

Yeonjun knew this every time he brought someone new into his apartment. But the thing was, that’s what made it so fun to him. Seeing what new tricks they would try to get him to ask them out on a proper date. The best attempt so far was cooking him a full breakfast in the morning rather than leaving altogether. That morning he sat there, ate breakfast in silence, and then gave them his signature “sympathetic” smile, followed by his usual spiel:

“I’m not really the best boyfriend type. Honestly, I’m kind of shitty at relationships. We can be friends though! I do hope you understand.” 

It was well rehearsed after giving it to an assortment of people. Tweaked and polished to perfection. Started by giving a reason that explained his response, put the blame on him and his “shittiness” at relationships, gave them an alternative answer, and played at their sympathy. And they would eat it up every time. Admit their defeat as they walked out the door of his flat.

It was a cycle that repeated every time. And somehow, he never got tired of it.

—

You were never quite one for parties. At the risk of sounding like the “not like every other girl” trope, you just didn’t find too much enjoyment in them. Wasn’t your crowd, wasn’t your scene, but you never held it against others who did enjoy them. Your best friend, for example, was very into parties.

“Woo, I don’t know–”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease,” he pleaded as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes.

Yes, Wooyoung was very into parties, and tonight would be one of the bigger ones that Yeonjun and his crew were throwing at Choi Beomgyu’s house. A celebration for the end of the first semester and surviving through finals. And your best friend was dead set on getting you to go to one party before you both left out for winter break.

“You know how I feel about those things…why can’t we just stay in and drink! I’ll even make your favorite ramen.” You tacked the last part of the sentence as a way to sweeten the deal, knowing he had a hard time saying no to your ramen. His eyebrows went up as he thought deeply about it.

“That’s a very tempting offer, I must admit,” he scratched his jaw. “But I really, really, really wanna go to this party. It’s being hosted by the Fabulous Five."

“Very stupid name.”

“Shut it.”

“I mean who calls themselves ‘the Fabulous Fi’–”

“Okay, I don’t think they call themselves that, everyone else just does,” he rolled his eyes and put his hands in the air. You laughed at his exasperated state, knowing that you could give just as much attitude as he could throw your way. 

“But that’s not the point. The point is that this party means a lot to me,” he looked you in the eye, fully serious. “And I would really like it if my best friend was there beside me.” His words struck a deep cord in you. There was turmoil going on between your head and heart. Your heart was telling you to go with and be there for your best friend, just as he is there for you in everything. Your head told you to stay back, that you would absolutely hate it there. It would all be too much for you, and you knew that.

But goddammit, Wooyoung was looking at you like a hopeful little kid right now.

“You make it sound like you’re getting married, Jung.”

“If I find the right person tonight, maybe I will,” he laughed, grabbing your hand. “Pretty please? I will do the dishes all of next week.”

With a sigh, you looked down at your hand in his and gave it a squeeze. You really did hate doing the dishes.

“Fine.”

—

It was all…quite loud.

As soon as you stepped into the house the heat from all the bodies hit you. Smoke made the air so thick you could almost chew it. The volume of the music really did a number on your ears.

You had found a stair step that wasn’t being used to sit and scroll on your phone. Wooyoung had gone off somewhere with some dark-haired boy - saying something about “I’ll be back in a bit” - and left you to your own device. 

For a while you people watched. There was a beer pong game going you found to be interesting, and afterward, a round of stack cup. You recognized a few of the players from your classes but weren’t super close to any of them. A few people went past you on the stairs up to god-knows-where, which you would shift out of the way a bit to avoid being stepped on. Some people you knew by name swung by to say hey, but that was the extent of your conversations in the midst of the chaos.

Eventually, nothing seemed all too interesting anymore, and you found yourself turning to your phone to do literally anything. You watched some videos, looked through the news a bit, texted back a friend or two, and before you knew, it only thirty minutes had gone by. You closed off your phone and hung your head, social battery depleting fast.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

A voice came from in front of you, and you looked up to find the source.

Choi Yeonjun stood right in front of you, holding out a cup of some transparent drink with an orange tint to it. Your eyes flickered from the drink up to his face, a gentle smile gracing it.

“No offense, but I don’t typically take drinks from strangers.” You gave him a light smile in order to politely decline him. He could have done anything to that drink, I don’t know him.

You knew of Yeonjun’s reputation around your school. You weren’t one to judge anyone for what they chose to do with their bodies. You’ve had a few one-night stands here and there but never made it a frequent thing. You did, however, try to go out of your way to steer clear of him and his friends out of not wanting to be caught up in any attention. Many of his escapades were pretty vocal about their time with him, and it brought them a bit of notice from your peers. You preferred to not be a similar case.

He smiled and nodded his head at your rejection, before putting the same cup to his mouth and downing the liquid. Your eyes widened a bit at how fast he took it down, before giving him another smile and looking awkwardly around at the other party-goers.

“Perhaps,” he started after a moment of silence. “I could accompany you to the kitchen. You could make your own drink, and I can properly introduce myself so we aren’t strangers anymore.” He offered a hand out to you, which you looked at for a second, wrestling your options. 

Either A: Stay here and wait till Wooyoung comes back after who knows how long…

Or B: Go grab a little drink to help make it through this night.

Grabbing his hand, you stood up from the stairs. You immediately dropped it, which caused Yeonjun to furrow his eyebrows a bit before collecting himself.

“Follow me.”

—

Your curtains brought direct sunlight into your eyes, causing you to stir a bit to shift away from the assault. You groaned as your arm came up to cover your face.

And suddenly, an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close to a warm body next to you.

Now I’m awake.

Your head whipped to the side to see Yeonjun still asleep next to you, his pouty lips were slightly open, cheek smushed against your pillow. His black hair was splayed across the pillow, giving him a bit of bedhead. 

Eventually, your eyes trailed down his neck to his bare chest, and lower to where the blanket covered his waist down. You brought your eyes down and found you were wearing his shirt from last night, some band tee that had been oversized on him. 

Your heart was racing as you tried to place all the spotty memories in order.

Kitchen for drinks.

We were talking on a couch at some point.

More drinks, I think.

Wooyoung left out, said he wasn’t going back to the apartment tonight.

You told Yeonjun you were headed out, he wanted to walk back with you.

“Gotta make sure you’re safe.”

You invited him into your apartment to sober up a bit before he left.

So how did he get into your bed?

“Um,” his voice drew you out of the mental puzzle. You turned your head to find him looking directly at you, eyes still a bit groggy. “Hey.”

“...Hi.” You looked at him with wide eyes, certain you looked crazy. This was not how anything was supposed to go, and he needed to leave before Wooyoung got back to the apartment. If he hasn’t been back already…

“Uh, so I’m really–”

“I’m sorry Yeonjun, last night was a mistake.” You offered him a sympathetic smile, cutting him off. His mouth stayed open, lost for words, eyes widened in confusion. He was taken aback, not knowing quite how to respond. You lifted the covers, ignoring his lower half, and stood up quickly, trying to find a pair of shorts, pants, anything to cover your legs. 

“W-...It was?” He sat up and tilted his head to the side, looking vaguely like a lost puppy. You nodded your head with a tight-lipped smile.

“Yea, it’s just…I’m really not looking for anything right now. Mainly just focused on studies, you know?” You pulled out some sweatpants from a pile of clothes you had been meaning to fold. Gotta look for a shirt now.

“Right, right, me too.” His eyebrows creased as looked at you, shuffling around the room in search of something. You went to a drawer to pull out a plain black tee shirt and walked to your closet to change in.

“After I change I can go sit in the living room while you get dressed!” You said in a rushed manner from behind the door.

Yeonjun’s head was spinning. 

No one has ever kicked him out.

Mainly cause they were almost always at his place and he would gently push them out. But this time they were in your apartment, and you were pushing him out. It completely took him by surprise, especially calling last night a “mistake.”

You stepped out of the closet and walked over to the bed to hand him his shirt back. Nodding, you left the room and gently closed the door behind you, not bothering to look back for a second.

A bit down the hallway you could see Wooyoung’s door open, and you tip-toed over to it just in case he had come back and fallen asleep. Peeking your head through, your entire body felt a wave of relief from seeing his bed empty, his keys and wallet that he would usually have on his bedside table gone.

You padded your way to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water, letting your thoughts fly through your head while you sipped at it.

How could you have let that happen? Everyone is going to be talking about you now, and you’ll only be known as one of Yeonjun’s conquests. All eyes on you for the next week now, you’ll have to go to class, keep your head down, and immediately come back home. Maybe he won’t talk about it? He never usually talks about his rendezvous’...Unless he mentions it to his friends! Beomgyu and Kai talk quite a bit, what if–

The sound of your door opening lifted your head up to stare at the hallway that led into your kitchen and living room. You watched as Yeonjun trudged out in the clothes he had worn last night. His hair was a bit more tamed than the bedhead he had earlier. You set the glass down and took a few steps toward him, not completely knowing what to say.

“So…I have somewhere I have to be…in a few minutes…” You trailed off, hoping he’d pick up what you were implying. You still hadn’t quite figured out how to politely tell one-night stands to leave.

“Right yeah, I have to get going too, I was meeting Soobin for lunch.” He smiled, finally having somewhat composed himself while getting dressed. You nodded as your heart hammered in your chest, wanting to force him out the door before Woo did arrive and started telling everyone who was in his apartment last night. With your luck, he may be walking up to the door now.

You moved to unlock and open the door for him, peering your head outside to check for your roommate. Still gone. You didn’t bother to offer Yeonjun anything else, needing him to get out of the building. He stepped around you and out the door, and just before you closed it, he turned back around to you.

“I’ll see you later?” Something glimmered in his eyes as he said it. A warm, hopeful feeling in his chest emerged, something he hadn’t experienced in a while. Your eyes met him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah, Yeonjun…I’ll definitely see you around.”

—

Do not repost or translate any of my work anywhere else.

All comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome!

[havendance]

The overly-convoluted, self-indulgent, au where Tim has an evil stepmother that lives in my head goes something like this:

While Jack is in his coma, none other shows up than, uhhh need a name, Morgan, Janet's estranged half-sister and Tim's aunt shows up.

She's like 'It sucks that Janet and I never got over our issues, but now that she's dead I want to get more involved with her family' and stuff like that

Tim thinks that's cool and his mom never mentioned having a sister, but that was probably because of all the travel, and also the estrangement. When Jack wakes up, he also thinks it's cool. (And also doesn't remember Janet having a sister, but his memory's fuzzy because of the coma, so...)

Morgan is not actually Janet's sister. She is in fact a Sorceress who is the head of Gotham's magic mafia or whatever and she somehow became aware that Tim was Robin (maybe through magic)

Since Tim is Robin, of Batman and Robin, and has sucessfully integrated himself into the mythology of Gotham, he can be used a conduit to tap into the magical power of the city. Which is why Morgan wants to have control over him in the first place.

Then there's Knightfall and Jack's kidnapped and Tim's spending more time with his Aunt. He notices that he's tired more often and also loosing time some, but he figures it's due to stress.

(He doesn't notice the way that Morgan makes it easy for him to slip away and be Robin. The way she pretends not to notice any injuries and believe any lies. He just thinks he's good at keeping secrets. She doesn't want him to stop. He's no good to her if he's not Robin.)

When things go back to normal, Tim doesn't really notice that he keeps staying more exhausted. He's used to it.

insert whump here with all sorts of fun side effects that come from being used as a magic battery for organized magic crime

Tim falling asleep in class, not remembering what he always does on his nights off. He goes on a stakeout with Dick and falls asleep during it. etc etc

When Jack announces that he and Morgan are going to get married, Tim thinks it's a little weird because that's his aunt, but it's not like they're related biologically or anything and Janet's dead so. Also, it could be worse. He likes Morgan well enough.

(Why is his evil stepmother also his evil aunt? Because I felt like it.)

And then, oh I don't know, some time later, there's an accident and Jack dies. (Not identity crisis. Tim doesn't get his identity leaked in this AU)

Morgan gets custody because she's the obvious choice. They're related twice over. Jack left her custody in the will.

Now that she has complete control over Robin, things get worse. She can be more blatant in her use of him. The side-effects increase and Tim and everyone else can just blame it on grief.

And then, uhh, stuff happens. The Bats stumble upon it. Tim has a freakout because how long has this been going on? And he never noticed?

Bruce adopts Tim happy ending.

[atarathegreat]

Shota Aizawa- He's Gone

Sleep had been elusive the last month, and as a pro hero I couldn't afford to be even the slightest bit tired. Fatigue meant that I wasn't on top of my game and could be taken down. Easily.

Yet, still I sat in my living room at two in the morning, halfway through my third book. It was a hardback a friend had given me years ago, I'd probably read it a thousand times at that point. It kept me enthralled every time I picked it up, as any good book would.

"You can't sleep either?" Aizawa stepped through my window, his dark hair falling over his eyes, "Reading some more? Do you ever put the books down?"

I waved the book sarcastically in his direction, "Just staring at the cover, actually. I love the flat green and the singular flower."

He chuckled, sitting in front of my chair so he could put his head in my lap. I let my fingers tug at his hair while I read, using his head to hold the book while I turned pages. I enjoyed his company on those late nights where boredom was likely to kill you faster than villains.

For the last couple years we'd climbed through each other's windows if we couldn't sleep, more him than me. Neighbors had become nosy about him coming in through the front door and I was tired of them asking about my love life. Aizawa didn't seem to mind going through the window, though he also didn't mind the front door, as long as he was able to come in and see me.

Aizawa moved to readjust and wedged his hands between my back and the chair, tugging himself closer to my stomach. I began to tell him about the book, bored of the silence. He listened as I spoke, humming when I asked an open ended question. Normally I asked before telling him about the books, but he seemed tired and I kinda hoped that my droning on would put him to sleep.

"Can I ask you a question, Y/n?" His dark eyes searching deep in mine, "Why do we continue to act like this and not move forward?"

I knew what he meant, but I didn't want to have this conversation yet again, "I already told you, we can share my bed. We don't have to sleep out here."

He rolled his eyes, "We love each other, at least I hope we do. Why don't we do anything about it? We get so close to each other and yet we stay so far away."

"Does he still have such a grip on you?" Aizawa moved so our noses were nearly touching and his breath fanned over my face, "It's been over twenty years, Y/n."

I slammed the book down on the end table as I stood, shoving Aizawa to the side. He followed me, telling me it had been years, that Oboro was dead and I was allowed to move on. My body tensed with each and every word he said.

"I know!" My quirk cracked the kitchen countertops as soon as I touched them, "I know I can move on, Shota, but how am I supposed to let go of the guilt?"

"How am I supposed to! I was there! I could've saved him but I didn't, Y/n!" Aizawa shouted, making me flinch away from the volume and anger, "You and him would probably be happy right now if I had just moved a little faster!"

My heart sunk at his words, "So you love me out of guilt? You think I'd be happy with Oboro if he wasn't dead, so you love me through that guilt?"

In mere seconds my head was shoved into his chest, his hand holding me firmly, "Not out of guilt, never. I love you because your amazing."

The hug was crushing the oxygen out of my lungs, but somehow I still found the air to cry. Aizawa released the back of my head to hold around my back, his own silent cries making him sniffle. My hands tightened around the fabric of his shirt, my breathes coming out in huge gasps.

Of course I loved Aizawa, he was there when no one else was. Oboro being dead changed none of that. It had never changed anything for me, not my love nor my sadness.

But me being with Oboro when he died was what was holding me back. Twenty years had come and gone, Oboro was forever a teenager and I was in my thirties. The relationship I'd once had was long gone, and I was pushing away the only one I wanted.

The realization calmed my crying, but I still couldn't talk. I loved Shota, I needed him and I was the reason I didn't have him. I gripped tighter to Shota and stared into the dimly lit living room, the book shining from under the lamp.

Oboro was gone, resting peacefully, and I was holding onto the old memories of me and him. I had kept myself in that state of mind just so I didn't have to let go of him.

I pulled away and kissed Aizawa's cheek, letting my cries settle before I spoke, "Let's do it. Me and you. A couple."

Before going to bed that night I grabbed the book Oboro had gifted me years ago. A good story can keep you hooked no matter how many times you read it, and Oboro always knew how to pick the perfect ones. I rested it in its spot on my shelf, running my finger down the spine. My final silent goodbye.

Aizawa stood beside me, looking at the book as he said his own goodbye. We were great friends with Oboro and saying goodbye was the hardest thing we'd ever done. Knowing it was the final goodbye did not make it easier, for me it almost seemed more painful. Was it harder for Shota as well?

"Y'know, he'd probably kick our asses if he knew we were still mourning him." Shota chuckled, his arm finding its place around my back.

I nodded, wiping at some stray tears, "He'd definitely kick our asses for not sleeping. Come on, the sun is rising and it's my only day off."

[jabberwondia]

memento mori

Malleus had found a way to make time stop.

Malleus Draconia x Gender Neutral Reader Notes: This one is a little sad. Hurt and comfort, existential angst, fear of death, mortality. Please skip if this is not your cup of tea.

Malleus had found a way to make time stop.

Granted, it wasn’t foolproof, as it would often end up speeding time instead. And yet when it worked – oh, when it worked, it was stronger than any magic he could ever hope to master.

You, on the other hand, were always running out of time. Mostly literally – running from class to class, cramming the night before exams, chasing after Grim – life in Twisted Wonderland had been a vortex of emotions and activities that were hard to get used to. Somehow, in all that madness, you had fallen in love with Malleus, and to your surprise, he had returned the affections with every fiber of his being. But, as it turns out, falling in love with a magical entity is a problem in and of itself. Malleus was always late to your nights out together, insisted on taking you to disheveled ruins far hidden in forests, and although he meant well, a part of him was enveloped in this eternal sadness – not just by his gloomy disposition, but by his adamant apathy to all things regarding school duty, and his jaded view on human life.

“Malleus,” you call softly. “You know, you don’t have to help me study.”

Cradled in his lap, he simply watches in silence as you go through your books.

“The time that remains for us is a precious gift. I’ve come to terms that I cannot have you by my side forever, so in turn, at least allow me to be there for all your moments.”

“That’s... dark.”

Silently, you wonder if the Fae feel the same range of emotions as humans. A different lifespan comes with its own kind of existential dread, though you cannot begin to fathom what it must be like. That being said, Malleus suddenly turning the subject of every other conversation into a constant reminder of your mortality is unwelcome on this particular day, as you are feeling especially emotional.

“Well, your journey is short. Spending it all by your side it the least I can do.”

“You.”

He’s said nothing new. He’s said nothing that he hasn’t before. Listen – if you spin it the other way around, it might actually sound romantic. And yet today – for some reason, today, you’ve had enough. Does it not suffice that you are thrown into a strange world, forced to learn magic (even though you cannot invoke it), lost all notion of what your regular life used to be like – how can he possibly understand? He’s never told you, so don’t even know – what his powers are like, how many centuries he’s lived through. Everything shrouded in mystery as you need to sort all his conundrums and metaphors, deal with his taciturn demeanor; enough is enough.

“Aren’t you tired of playing-pretend as a high school student?” You hiss, holding back tears that go so deep, they feel like they’re forming in the back of your throat instead of your eyes. “What gives!? I’ll be dead in another sixty or so years anyways, eighty if I'm lucky. Please, just stop reminding me.”

At first, your choice of words clouds his eyes with anger and dejection – you can sense an electric current rising as suddenly the outside air is not so clear anymore. But quickly and surely, Malleus steadies down, and so does the weather.

“Child of Man,” he begins to say. “I apologize.”

“No. I’m sorry,” you shake your head. “I’ve been... pondering a lot lately.”

“I should not have voiced such sad thoughts out loud. It won’t happen again.”

“No, really, it’s okay. It’s just... this impossible dream.”

“What do you dream of?”

You dare not say, but you dream of becoming a fairy. I mean, if magic is possible in this crazy world, then it’s not such a farfetched fantasy, right? Not out of greed – you could not care less if it’s ten, sixty, or five hundred more years until you die. Time is not important. You just want to live in the same dimension, the same frequency as Malleus, grow gray hairs together – is that too much to ask? In the current scenario, both your existences are so foreign to each other, that if you had to put it in easier terms, you'd say it feels like being a dog –loyal, unconditional, and sure, we love dogs as much as we love our kin– but an inevitable barrier separates them to us. We might meet one, two, thirty dogs – yet to them, we are their Only Human. How is that fair?

Malleus is not good at guessing other’s thoughts. He’s told you that much before. But when he sees you start to weep quietly, he knows.

“I can stop time.”

“No weird magic, Hornton,” you warn. “And please don’t joke about this. I’m not in the mood.” In all honesty, it’s hard to tell if the Thorn Prince himself is jesting or not – hey, he's capable of the occasional wisecrack now and then, and you don’t doubt him, but then again, stopping the flow of time itself seems like an overpowered cheat skill for anyone to have.

“No,” he assures. “Not magic. Or perhaps it is. Just not the conventional kind.”

A deep sigh escapes your lungs. He is not going to let this go, so you feel obliged to comply. “Fine. I’ll humor you. Show me.”

Malleus shifts your weight on his lap easily, and when he places a hand to cup your face, it dawns on you how it’s so big and monstrous and his fingers are like claws – so much so, that the tip of his little finger extends to your neck, and the span of his hand clutches your nape and ear and cheek all at once, effortlessly. His lime green eyes shine in the rising moon of the evening, heavy lids, zooming in on you, seeing nothing else. And then his pale face inches closer, and he kisses you. It’s that simple. There are no tricks, no spells. But he does it slow and carefully. At first, a peck on the lips, which inevitably tastes of your tears; he wipes them off gently with his thumb, crisscrossing your cheeks, so gently that you can mentally trace the zigzags his fingers are making by the lingering static of his touch. Then again, but this time Malleus is a bit more forceful; not too much, he knows exactly how to handle your fragile skin. Taking turns between nibbling your upper lip, then switching to sucking on your lower lip – wet, tender, reddened; pausing to allow you to catch your breath, and also just to take the sight of you in, as you are panting, squirming on his lap. The sadness is ever present, but a bittersweet joy soon fills you instead – and Malleus kisses you over and over again, scaling in intensity, making you lose your sense of balance, being or gravity, as if you cannot smell or see or hear anything else, all that remains is your sense of touch, and all you feel is him. “See?” Malleus whispers, breaking the lock of your lips, still remaining so close that it makes you shake with the vibrating tones of his voice; like a cat’s purr. “But a fleeting moment, yet it feels like an eternity.”

Malleus had found a way to make time stop.

It wasn’t foolproof, but oh, when it worked, it was stronger than any magic he could ever hope to master. And for a brief instant, time had forgiven you both.

“to kiss you”

A series of one-shots and drabbles featuring the Twisted Wonderland boys, kisses, and a specific body part.

Part 1: Azul Ashengrotto x Gender Neutral Reader, legs.

Part 2: Malleus Draconia x Gender Neutral Reader, lips. [you’re here]