#lemme know if you'd like me to add something

[tinycoffeeroom]

birds of a feather | daniel ricciardo

face claim: N/A ♡

request: here !

pairing: daniel ricciardo x british!reader

cw: mentions of chr*stian horner, singapore gp 2024

a/n: sorry for the long hiatus but i just had to come back and make something for danny. i've loved that man since i got into f1 and the idea that i won't see him on track anymore hurts so deeply. thank you for the memories honey badger, you will always have a place here on tinycoffeeroom <3

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Hi baby.

Hi love.

You sound exhausted, did you not sleep well last night?

Not really, I've been trying to go over strategies with the team, but nothing seems to be working. There's no way I'm getting in the points this week.

I'm sorry Danny, I know how much you've been working on this...

Have you asked them about that power unit thingy you were talking about?

Yeah... they don't have the time to test it and add it in before this race or even COTA.

What about the new rear wing?

Well...

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Anyway, enough about this shit show. How are you, darling? I miss you.

I miss you too, pretty boy. It sucks that this conference overlaps the race, I wish I was there so bad. Just wanna hug you.

Me too, y/n. Me too. I'm coming back as soon as the race is over. At least we have 4 weeks before the next one. Did you manage to book time off?

I did! 2 whole weeks to follow you across the globe watching you strut your stuff! Hopefully we can get Horsey back for the memories.

Blake's been emailing the owner, so hopefully Horsey will make a reappearance. (LAUGHS)

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Oh wait, Helmut's calling me, I'll call you back babe.

Ok! Lemme know what he says!

Always do. Love you.

Love you too pretty boy.

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It had been a last minute decision, choosing to fly out to Singapore. You knew Daniel would never put his own needs above yours, and while the conference was important for your career, he was important to you too.

It had been easy getting everything sorted. By the time you were texting Blake about flying over, he had already sent you a message, a simple "you know?".

A quick email to your boss, a semi lie spun about a family emergency, and a whirlwind of packing bags later, you found yourself sitting in Heathrow.

Your fingers twitched nervously as you checked the time differences between England and Singapore, double checking Daniel wouldn't find it strange if you didn't respond to his texts for the next 13 hours.

Your flight left at 8PM Singapore time, that gave you at least 10 hours before he would wake up for the race.

Blake had sneakily upgraded your tickets to first class so you could sleep comfortably on the flight and be ready to go straight into race day, or night, when you landed.

Tapping your phone awake, you smile at the lock screen staring back at you.

You and Daniel had gone away with a few other couples from the grid, a well needed break from the stress of Formula 1. In the midst of a late night beach walk with Charles and Alex, Daniel had grabbed your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder.

Your shrieks of laughter had drawn some weird looks from those around you, but neither of you cared. You'd clawed your way back, legs settling tightly around Daniel's waist as his arms wrapped tightly around yours.

You didn't even notice the flash of Alex's phone, too enthralled in the wide smile encapsulating the man holding you, all teeth and gums and happiness dripping from him like sweet honey. A quick peck to the bridge of his nose and then the corner of his mouth was enough for him to lower you gently to the ground, arms still encompassing you tightly. 

The sound of Charles fake gagging beside you finally pulled the two of you out of the lovesick stupor you'd been caught in, eyes roaming the shadows cast across your lover's face from the fading sunset. 

When Alex had texted you the photo once you were back in the hotel room, limbs wrapped around one another in the cool, air conditioned room, you'd chuckled lightly, drawing Daniel's attention. 

"What's so funny?" The hand gripping your thigh draped lazily across his lap squeezed once, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. 

Turning the phone to face him, you watched his eyes light up, that same dazzling smile spreading as he took in the photo. 

"Send that to me."

You hummed in response, airdropping the photo to him as he pulled your thigh higher up his lap. As he leaned forward, lips searching for yours under the dim lamp light, you quickly set the photo as your lock screen, no doubt in your mind that Daniel would soon do the same. 

A tannoy drags you back to the present. 

"All passengers for flight SIA324, please make your way to the gate. Boarding will begin in 15 minutes."

Typing out a quick goodnight message to Daniel, you pocket your phone, sighing as you make your way towards what could be the last time you see Daniel in a Formula 1 car.

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ynstagram uploaded three stories to their close friends

replies:

lilymhe 💔 if i knew you were coming to singapore, i would have come too! ↳ ynstagram was a last minute decision sorry babe xx ↳ lilymhe ... don't tell me ↳ ynstagram 🙃

maxverstappen1 how did you get time off?? i thought you were super busy with work ↳ ynstagram claimed a family emergency, even if danny doesn't want me here, i needed to come ↳ maxverstappen1 he needs you y/n, more than i think even he knows

landonorris does dan know you're coming? ↳ ynstagram nope, blocked him from my close friends for a bit ↳ landonorris sneaky, i like it ↳ landonorris see you soon y/n, glad you'll be here :)

iamrebeccad you're coming to the gp??? come to ferrari hospitality if you can!!!! alex misses you 🥺 ↳ ynstagram don't think i'll be leaving vcarb this weekend, we can meet up for brunch soon though 🩷 ↳ iamrebeccad oh... yeah sure, just let me know 💜

blakefriend hope you got to the hotel alright, me and dan are out for his training session, did you get the keycard ok? ↳ ynstagram i did, and the paddock passes. thanks for this blake, i know with everything going on, last minute admin is the last thing you need ↳ blakefriend if it means dan can have some sense of calm in this mess, i'd do it 10 times over ↳ blakefriend we'll be back at 1pm, see you in a few hours ↳ ynstagram 🫡 see you then

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Getting from the airport to the hotel had been easy enough. Piling the bags you had brought from Monaco to London and now to Singapore onto the only trolley remaining, you make your way down to the Arrivals.

Stepping through the automatic doors, your eyes dart between the people around you. Families reuniting with bright laughter and happy tears, lovers sharing intimate kisses under the harsh airport lights. Businessmen already glued to the phone in their hands as they weave through bodies with ease, their bodies twisting and turning like a well rehearsed waltz.

A man in a black suit jacket and oversized chauffeur hat catches your eye, his eyes following your figure as you try to move around the other passengers. You glance down at the large piece of paper held just above his waist. 

“Y/N L/N” is scrawled in large black letters across the paper, chicken scratch that looks very much like Blake’s.

Making your way over, the man tips the edge of his chauffeur hat slightly, reaching a hand out to shake yours. 

You want to apologise for the clamminess of your palms as you accept his welcome, but before you can speak, he’s reaching across to take the trolley from you, his head tilting briefly in the opposite direction.

You follow behind him, feet double stepping to keep up as he expertly navigates the sprawling grounds of Singapore Airport. 

By the time you reach the car out front, a sheen of sweat covers your upper lip and you cringe, feeling your t-shirt slowly cling to your back. 

The man opens the boot, then the back door and ushers you in. The cold air conditioning feels like a welcome home kiss, brushing away the humidity that clings to your skin from the small journey between the airport and the car. By the time the man sits in the driver's seat, your eyes are slipping closed, head lolling against the headrest behind you. 

You didn’t mean to sleep for the entire car journey, but you’d barely been able to rest for more than 20 minutes on the flight, opting instead to cycle through nonsense films to play in the background as the thoughts in your mind waged a war on your emotions. 

It had been a tense 13 hours, trying to work out what had happened on that phone call between Daniel and Helmut. You knew there were talks of him not extending his contract, but leaving mid season?

Your Danny? The self proclaimed and well known Honey Badger, king of late braking and divebombing his grid mates. You’d been with him since the Red Bull days, and even if he wasn’t winning podiums, or even points sometimes, you thought there would be more of an uproar about this from him. 

This wasn’t the same man you’d watch nearly fight a waiter because he refused to bring you a new meal after they’d brought out a completely different dish, the same man who left everything on the tarmac and often dragged you to his trailer post race interviews for a well deserved nap. 

His texts had been despondent, almost like he believed this was the goodbye he deserved. 

That’s the part you couldn’t move past. The idea that he was going to finish his last race without the flair of Daniel Ricciardo, no doughnuts, no grid walk, no party to celebrate the last 13 years. 

After the McLaren debacle, you understood why he chose to fly under the radar. With COVID and the situation with Oscar, he’d been more than willing to slip away peacefully but this was different. 

This was Red Bull. Or the subsidiary at least. The team he’d spent the longest time in Formula 1 with. The team who took him in as a junior, that he’d won 7 Grand Prix’s with, scored well over 1000 points racing for. 

You would have thought that they would have wanted to give him a goodbye worthy of what he had brought to the team.

By the time the chauffeur shakes you gently awake, your mind is no clearer but one thing is for sure. Daniel will not face this storm alone.

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The time of Daniel getting back from his workout was looming slowly. Since entering the hotel room, you’d hopped in the shower, scrubbing the aeroplane smell from you. The suitcases were lined up against the wall and you were currently lazing on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok. Every so often, you’d flick to the notification screen, just in case Blake’s incoming text had somehow slipped past without you catching it. 

Your eyes flutter slowly closed, maybe a 10 minute nap wouldn’t hurt. Before you can lock your phone and settle into the plush pillows, a notification pings through. Eyes darting open, you catch the banner notification before it slides up. 

They were in the lobby. 

“Fuckin’ hell Blake.” Scrambling up from the bed, you round the corner and make sure there is no sign of you in the living room section. Your shoes are tucked away in the bottom of the closet, jacket strewn across the chair in the corner of the bedroom. 

The telltale ring of a keycard being swiped rings through the air and you slide to hide behind the wall, heart thumping against your chest. Doubt begins to swirl through your mind. What are you even doing here? What if he didn’t invite any of his family or friends because he didn’t want them to see him go out like this? Would he want you to? 

Loud voices echo through the hallway, Aussie slang thrown about but you focus on the one thick with a Perth twang. 

Your Danny. 

“Mate, I’m just gonna go point Percy at the porcelain.” Blake’s voice grows louder as he walks through to the bedroom. He locks eyes with you, giving you a quick one armed hug as you exchange quiet greetings. 

Once enough time has passed, he gestures with a finger to his lips to be quiet, head popping around the corner to Daniel. 

“Did you bring Y/N’s jacket with you by mistake?”

A confused “No” comes from the living room before Blake leans across you, grabbing the clothing from the chair. He holds it aloft, in Daniel’s line of sight. 

“No idea what that’s doing here, mate. You know I always bring a t-shirt of Y/N’s which should be under the pillow.”

Your heart swells at the statement, you had no idea he’d sneak something of yours with him whenever you couldn’t attend races. The earlier doubts dissipate, you knew right here, with Daniel, was where you were supposed to be. 

“Strange… oh! I know what’s happened.” Blake shoots you a grin before wrapping a hand around your arm, pulling you into the doorway. 

Smiling softly at Daniel, you huff lightly at the way his eyes widen almost comically as he takes you in. Silence spreads through the room, the two of you locked in intense eye contact as Blake slowly moves aside to let you reunite. 

“Hello, my love.”

Daniel’s bottom lip wobbles slightly and before you can process it, he’s launched across the room, almost body slamming you with the force he runs at you with. Arms latch tightly around your waist, his head tucked tightly into your neck, trembling lips resting against your pulse point. 

“What, I, how?” The words are muffled against your skin, the edges of them tear soaked as the collar of your t-shirt dampens to match. 

Carding your hand through his still sweaty curls, you scratch lightly against his scalp. “As soon as you told me, Blake texted me. He booked me on the next flight.”

Daniel’s head pops out from his hiding place, all three of you ignoring the tears smattering his cheeks. He looks across to Blake, who simply shrugs his shoulders, reaching down to grab his gym bag. 

“You needed them, and they needed you. It was a no brainer. Also, don’t get sappy with me, I charged the flight to your business card.” A chuckle follows and he claps Daniel on the back once, nodding in your direction before heading out the front door, the sound of it closing echoing slightly. 

Daniel’s eyes track from the closing door back to you, wide in wonderment. “But your conference?”

Shrugging, you lean forward to press a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek. “Called in a family emergency. There’s no way I was letting you go through this alone.” You lift your hand up to his face, tracing a path across the same cheek you’d just kissed. “I know your parents or your friends can't be here, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to deal with everything going on with no kind of support. I know Blake’s here but-”

You’re cut off by his lips covering yours, desperation seeping through as the words die on your tongue. The taste of salt blooms, the tears still dripping slowly from his eyes. Yours join in quick succession. A rushed “I love you” slips from your mouth the moment you part, his own coming straight after. 

The slide of his lips against your own turns molasses slow, the cooled sweat on both of you soon making way for its heated counterpart as you gravitate closer to one another. Warm hands sneak under your t-shirt, the palms cupping the swell of your hips as Daniel whispers words of gratitude through stolen breaths. Your own hands rest against his neck, nails creating slight grooves under the pressure. 

Knowing what will come tomorrow, you take in this moment, second by second. The feel of his sweat slick skin under your palms, the slight stubble on his jaw scratching at your chin, the way his heart beats erratically in his chest pressed close to yours. 

Every part of this Daniel you memorise, capturing each memory in a gold plated frame. You store them away in the evergrowing gallery of your brain dedicated to the man before you, seal them under lock and key for your eyes only. 

You always knew that one day, you’d share them with him. When all the racing was over and the two of you had the house with the white picket fence, or more aptly, the farm with the white picket fence. You’d dissect every moment of him you stored away, stacked one by one for safekeeping. From the moment the two of you met in that busy London street, every grand prix win, every high followed by every low. Just in case he began to forget the man he was, the man he would still be. 

You just didn’t realise that day would be coming so soon. 

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ynstagram danielricciardo

[caption 2: gorgeous boy xx]

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After the race, you’d left Daniel to his own devices. You knew he would want to spend his time wandering around the track, soaking in every moment of what could be his last ever race. 

Grabbing a ride back with Blake, the two of you stick to small talk, neither able to formulate the words you truly wanted to say. 

He’d given you a brief goodbye in the lobby, arms wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before the two of you separated, him taking the stairs and you choosing to ride in the elevator. 

Shuffling through the front door, you kick your shoes off, nudging them next to the other pairs in the entryway. On the way up, you’d sent Daniel a quick text to let you know when he was on his way back. 

Expecting him to respond around midnight, you slowly work through your nighttime routine, opting to wear one of his shirts to bed instead of the pyjamas you’d neatly packed. 

Slipping into bed, you unlock your phone, squinting at the brightness. Still no messages from Daniel, the 1:27am at the top of your phone making you sigh deeply. Reaching over, you plug your phone onto charge before starting up a well loved podcast, choosing an episode you could probably quote from memory with how often you relistened to it. 

As the dulcet voices fall away to background noise, you settle in for the night, head half shoved into the pillow beside you, Daniel’s scent still lingering from this morning.

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Blearily opening your eyes as the other side of the bed dips lightly, you quickly tap your phone to see the time. A bold 3:57am blinks back at you briefly before the screen goes dark once more. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry babe.” Daniel’s voice whispers in the darkness, hand winding its way around your waist to pull you back to his chest. 

Resting your hand over his, fingers interlocking in the open spaces, you squeeze twice. “s’ok, wanted to see you when you got back anyway.”

Silence follows and before you can roll over to look at Daniel, his face presses into the centre of your shoulder blades, the skin warm through the fabric of the shirt.

“Danny?”

He stays quiet, the hand on your waist gripping tighter. You can hear the way his breath starts to shake on the inhale, the tears from his eyes slowly dampening the back of his shirt currently wrapped around you. 

“Danny, lemme see you.” A shake of his head rustles the shirt. “Baby, please.”

His grip on your waist loosens and you shuffle around carefully, trying to avoid shoving an elbow in his ribs and adding further insult to injury. 

You can hardly make out his face, the small amount of moonlight shining through the haphazardly closed curtains barely illuminating the curve of his cheek. It does catch the glint of his honey brown eyes, tears shimmering along his lash line. 

“Oh, my love.” Your heart breaks at the sight of the man in front of you, a shell of who you’ve come to know and love. The pressure behind your eyes builds, tears threatening to mirror Daniel’s. “C’mere.”

One hand wrapping around the back of his neck, you pull him to lay against you. He burrows in, head pressed tight into the junction between your neck and shoulder, a sombre juxtaposition to this morning. 

“This is the end. Everything I’ve worked for, over. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” His arm wraps tight around your waist once more, his leg coming to rest between yours. “I’m officially a has-been.” A wet chuckle escapes him, the noise too loud in the surrounding silence. 

You can’t stop yourself from tapping the back of his neck lightly. He knows you hate when he talks like that. “No one’s allowed to talk about the man I love like that.”

His head lifts from your neck to throw you a quick glance. “Even if it’s the man himself?”

Pulling him back to rest against your neck, you run your hands through his hair gently, twirling the longer strands around one of your fingers. “Especially if it’s the man himself. You’re not a has-been, never will be. You’re so talented in so many different ways, there will never be a time you can say you’re past your prime or whatever stupid shit is running around that gorgeous head of yours.” Your fingers tap against his scalp to drive the point home. “Even if you never step foot in one of those cars again, you’ve got your dirt biking, the wine company, Enchante, the 17 other high intensity sports you do that raise my blood pressure every time I watch. You’re smart enough to know how to adapt, and that is what you’ll do. I know it.”

“You seem very sure.” His voice comes out muffled from its spot against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. 

“That’s because I am. I was by your side during the papaya setback, I saw how you came back stronger. That’s what this situation is too, a setback. You’ll find a way through, even if I have to stand by the solution with a flashlight to guide you that way.” 

He chuckles, the edges of his voice no longer tainted with sorrow. “Can you still not say their name?”

You join his laughter, remembering the last time you’d spoken about McLaren. “Last time I mentioned that company, I got a cease and desist. Don’t think Zac was too happy with the way I was deservedly slagging them off.” Your nose wrinkles as you think back to the snottily worded email and attached letter that dropped into your inbox a few days after your last public comment about their shitty management. “So I promised to never let that name slip from my lips again.”

The room falls silent again, just for a moment. The two of you still tangled in an embrace, even as the first prickles of sweat bead against your hairline from the heat of your bodies in the warm Singapore evening. 

Daniel sighs, shuffling minutely to run a hand up and down the length of your side. “I just… I remember when I was 20. Being so excited to get into an actual F1 car, even as a tester. I remember jumping out, seeing that I was the fastest and thinking ‘this is it. This is my chance.’ I wanted to be a Red Bull driver so bad, with every part of me. To win a race, maybe even win a world championship, leave a legacy behind. And now I’ve wasted over a decade of my life with only 8 race wins to show for it. Not even a championship. What kind of legacy does that leave me?”

The sorrow creeps back into his voice, and you have to clear your throat before responding, willing the tears back once more. “A legacy doesn’t have to mean winning a world championship. Or even a race. Think about Jacky Ickx, Stirling Moss, Juan Pablo Montoya. All legends in their own right, but none of them had a world championship. If this was your last race in Formula 1, you leave behind a legacy in your own right. People will know your name for years, even decades to come. King of the late brakers, the guy who always had a smile and a kind word to say about everyone he ever met; even if they didn’t deserve it, the aptly named Honey Badger. Just because you don’t leave behind a legacy in being number 1, doesn’t mean you won’t be up there with the greats.”

Daniel hums, taking in your words, dissecting them one by one. “I’m scared. Where do I go now? Do I even try to come back? Move to a different company entirely? Retire officially and retreat to the farm? I don’t know who I am without Formula 1.”

You take a moment to think about the situation for yourself. A world where Daniel Ricciardo is no longer a Formula 1 driver. It always seemed so impossible to you, the company so deeply ingrained into his being that the very idea of him would cease to exist without it in his life. 

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” Your hand continues to card through his hair, a soothing gesture. Whether it was meant to soothe him or you, you weren’t too sure. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with advice, I’ve never had to walk in your shoes. But that doesn’t need to be something to think about right now. Enjoy some downtime, go home and spend time with your family, race dirt bikes around different parts of the world, go see Scotty and Chloe. The future is still so bright for you, Danny. And I’m just happy that I get to be beside you through it all.”

Slowly, he raises his head from its perch, bright eyes finding yours. Despite the situation, you swear he’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment. Teeth bitten lips find yours in the dim light, clumsy and fierce, but perfect in its own right. 

“I love you. So fucking much. From the first day we met and you shouted at me for splashing you with a puddle, I knew you were the one. Thank you for never leaving.”

You laugh aloud, remembering how you’d been late for university, umbrella thrashing in the England wind, when a bike had come up dangerously close beside you, running straight through a puddle and covering your jeans in muddy water. 

After a long rant at the rider, you’d looked up into apologetic golden eyes and high cheekbones, and immediately the anger had dissipated. “And I love you. Maybe not from the puddle moment, but you won me over nearly immediately after. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, with you.”

This is the moment. The moment to open the gallery in your mind to the man in front of you. To recall each and every moment you’d captured in glossy oils and remind him of who he is, who he always has been. 

And then Daniel lays his head back down to your chest, lips pressing an appreciative kiss to the shirt underneath, warmth blossoming through the fabric to your skin below. And the moment passes. 

Pressing your head back into the pillow below, you listen to how Daniel’s breathing slows, settling down as he drifts off to sleep. The perfect moment will come back. There’s still time.

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liked by fan, fan and 982,167 others

formula1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced

see 238,816 others

fan what the fuck

fan not danny ric 💔💔

fan we just got him back😭😭😭

fan helmut marko watch your back.

user lol not surprised, we all knew he was washed ↳ fan 123.456.789.012 ↳ user did i just get doxxed?

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👤 danielricciardo liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 890,274 others

ynstagram the man of many names. danny ric, ricky bobby, honey badger and most importantly, the love of my life. i've loved you for 6 summers and i'll love you for 600 more.

in the words of our favourite musical, wherever you go i won't be far to follow. whether it's in the navy of the bulls, papaya of [REDACTED], the bee striped renault or the dazzling white of vcarb, you bring so much light and happiness everywhere you go, and i've been privileged to bask in the warmth of you.

and until the next adventure, i will always be here to remind you of the power and strength you inhabit, the souls you've breathed life into and the happiness you've brought to the sport you love (sometimes more than me) for over a decade.

always and forever, your y/n x

see 10,286 other comments

fan anyone else absolutely sobbing right now?? ↳ fan as if his post wasn't enough to make me bawl, ofc y/n drops this

fan to have a love like y/n and danny...

fan not y/n censoring mclaren, they hate that damn team so much ♥️ ynstagram

danielricciardo my darling, i love you, always and forever ❤️ ↳ ynstagram so excited for our future, whatever it holds ❤️

landonorris thanks y/n max is crying now 👍 ↳ ynstagram 🤣 which one? ↳ maxfewtrell both ↳ maxverstappen1 both

alexandrasaintmleux 🩷 we need another double date when you're back in monaco x ↳ ynstagram do we have to bring them? ↳ danielricciardo on my own dedication post... wow ↳ ynstagram 🤷 gotta show my girl love whenever i can

fan helmut better hide, y/n doesn't play when it comes to their man ↳ fan fr don't let the sappy post fool you, ik they have a hitlist in their notes

fan him leaving before COTA is so messed up, he loves that track 😭😭😭 ↳ ynstagram wish you guys could have seen the special helmet :( ↳ fan OH HELMUT MARKO WHEN I CATCH U!!!!!!! ↳ fan special helmet... pls we need to see i BEG

lewishamilton with you by his side, the future is bright for the honey badger 🤍 ↳ ynstagram thanks lew 🩷 ↳ danielricciardo thanks man :)

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a/n: this is not proof read, so ignore any mistakes. i can't wait to see what danny does in the future, whatever it is, i'll be supporting him all the way <3

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love & Liabilities: Chapter 5 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: While you prided yourself on your ability to always put your work above everything else, what happens when you find yourself haunted by a ghost from the past? (A ghost who brings baked goods, waters plants, and enjoys reminding you of what you’ve been missing)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage! Mommy Kink, degradation kink, light choking, dirty talk, blow job, strap-on sex

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back! Finally returning to this fic and planning on updating as regularly as my schedule will allow. If you'd like to be added to my tag-list, feel free to let me know! (if you changed your handle or aren't on here but were previously please lemme know and I'll add you back) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy- would love to hear what you think!

Tag-List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Previous Chapter

Present Day

If there was one thing you had learned from practicing law, it was that the world was filled with misconceptions. For many, misconceptions were nothing more than what the word suggests; small errors. However, as a prosecutor you found yourself unable to revel in that life of luxury. 

In your line of work, a misconception could result in something as trivial as having difficulty filling a jury due to anyone with a beating heart finding an excuse to be sent home. Or to the more extreme case of a criminal being able to walk with no consequences.

However, occasionally the opposite would occur, where the details of a case become so warped and misconstrued that someone innocent is found to be guilty. 

But, you weren’t supposed to worry if a defendant was innocent when your entire job revolved around proving why they were guilty. 

That’s what made the past few days so confusing. 

You had looked over the files Agatha accidentally left behind, and found they held more questions than answers. As crazy as it sounded, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an accident, as any normal person would never compromise such sensitive details to their opponent. 

But then again, most people weren’t Agatha Harkness. 

To your knowledge, one set of the hospital records, Wanda Maximoff’s records, were previously sealed, and you didn’t want to imagine what the attorney had done to acquire them. 

You did wonder if perhaps this was some sort of trap that Agatha was hoping you’d fall into in order to incriminate you, because if there was one thing your former lover prided herself on it was always being ten steps ahead of her opponent before obliterating them in court. 

But that was surely just your paranoia talking.

A few days after Agatha’s impromptu break in you finally finished combing over every last possible piece of information you could gather from the hospital records. The two patients, one of them being Wanda Maximoff, had been involved in a car wreck. Wanda had been eight months pregnant at the time. 

The second patient, Victor Shade, died shortly after being rushed into emergency surgery.

You had scanned and searched the records for more information, perhaps on Wanda’s pregnancy, or even the severity of her injuries. But, and you were nearly certain this wasn’t a coincidence, the majority of the pages were missing.

It didn’t take you long to guess who most likely had a perfectly manicured hand in that.

Agatha Harkness was single-handedly the most pompous, deceitful, domineering individual you had ever encountered, but she was also the most intentional. Every movement she made was calculated, and you knew she had these papers for a reason.

You weren’t Agatha, nor would you wish that particular curse on your worst enemy, but you knew her better than anyone. Or at least you did, for a time. 

Closing your eyes as you rested at your desk, you briefly recollected how intimately acquainted you once were, before remembering how much had changed in the time since.

As you opened your eyes, they landed on the files and a small voice in the back of your head suggested you try calling Agatha. Just to give them back to her. 

You did already get all the useful information that was available, you reasoned. Knowing Agatha, she’d likely question why you had waited so long, but you already had an excuse for that.

You were fairly busy after all, and your paralegal was on vacation, so your normally clear desk now had a mountain-sized pile of papers that made your head spin if you stared at it for too long. If Agatha complained you’d just lie and say they had gotten lost until you sorted through everything.

Besides, you thought bitterly, Agatha lied to you plenty, about things of far greater importance than this. 

Checking the time on your phone, you wondered if nine pm on a Friday night was too late for a phone call, but Agatha had always been nocturnal, often working until the early hours of the morning. You used to find her passed out, slumped over her desk in the home office of the apartment you shared, and you’d drag her back to bed.

Your cheeks grew hot at the reminder of how you’d convinced her to follow you.

Clearing those thoughts from your mind you scrolled through your contact list until you landed on her name. There were a handful of times over the years where you considered deleting it, or blocking her number. But there was this unyielding force within you, prohibiting you from ever following through with it.

Knowing Agatha you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow cursed you.

Your stomach did sickening flip flops as your index finger trembled, hovering over her name. This is ridiculous, you reasoned, finally pressing down, turning on the speaker setting as you set your phone on the edge of your desk. 

Unfortunately, instead of a familiar ringing noise, you were alarmed to hear an automated message, telling you that the number had been disconnected, before the line went dead.

She changed her number?

Your heart sank as you stared at the bright glow of your phone screen, the contact seeming to mock you. Letting out an agitated sigh, you snatched the device, holding it in your palm. Your hands were unsteady, and you hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on her name. The purple heart that accompanied it had been your idea, her signature color. It felt fitting at the time.

Without another thought, you swiped your finger to the right, permanently deleting the contact before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag, leaving your office without another thought. 

She changed her number.

You’d like to say you spent your weekend with your work laptop and phone shut off, enjoying your two days away from the office. But that would be a bold faced lie. You wouldn’t call yourself a workaholic, on the contrary your hours weren’t nearly as intense as when you were still in corporate law. 

Billable hours were a gift from the devil herself, truly.

You weren’t a workaholic, but you were a perfectionist. It was a matter of pride to be detail oriented, to be willing to go the extra mile and find the smallest flaw in a case. It’s what drew you over to the litigation side of things to begin with. Contracts, as thrilling as they could be, didn’t provide the rush of adrenaline being in court granted you.

It was ironic, you swore up and down this side of law could never interest you, but now you couldn’t imagine practicing anything else.

Well, you could, at times, as brief flashes of conversations with the one person you’d felt safe enough to share them with replayed in your brain. But that was a dream you’d given up on a long time ago, among other things.

As it turned out, time could change a lot.

When Monday morning came rolling around, you repeatedly hit snooze on your alarm, not quite feeling rested from your weekend. You took your time for once, even making yourself breakfast. With your paralegal still on vacation you realized how dependent you had become on her for the smallest of things, meals included. 

You should really talk about getting her a raise.

Despite your leisurely start to your morning, you were still out the door before most of the city was awake. You loved the chaos of Manhattan, the crowds of people and thralls of traffic were a warm contrast to the environment you had grown up in. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a morning commute that took under a half hour, as your Lyft zoomed through the relatively light traffic for a Monday morning. 

Since you worked all weekend your email inbox was manageable, and you marked a few messages to reply to later that morning. You were thankful for the lighter workload, as it allowed you to solely concentrate on your case. 

The ticking time bomb of the one month continuance wasn’t something you wanted to worry about just yet. 

Strolling into your building, you were unsurprised to find you were the first person to arrive for the morning. Walking past some of the potted plants near your office door, you frowned, stopping in front of them and examining tiny droplets of water on the leaves.

Did someone water them recently?

Maybe one of the janitorial staff did it, you concluded, shaking the thought from your mind as you fumbled around for your keys. Pulling them out from your pocket, you went to unlock the door, but were alarmed to find the door was already unlocked.

You didn’t have to open the door fully to know she was there, but you did anyway. 

Swinging the door open, you found Agatha already in your office. Only this time she was sitting at your desk, her feet perched up on the edge, her shiny black loafers reflected by the light. She was engrossed in reading something, her thick black rimmed glasses hanging low on her nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Agatha didn’t look up from whatever she was reading, but you watched her lip curl upwards, forming a cruel smirk. “Good morning to you too, dear. Muffin?”

It was then you noticed the box of baked goods on the edge of your desk. The sweet aroma of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the room, they were always your favorite. 

No. You knew what she was doing. 

“I already ate, thanks,” you coolly replied, dropping your work bag near the door, before locking it. “You can’t keep breaking into my office. Do you have any idea what my colleagues would say if they saw you coming and going?”

Agatha hummed, dramatically flipping the page, and you felt a wave of anger rush through you. 

“That sounds more like your problem than mine,” Agatha unhelpfully pointed out, finally setting her papers down to look up at you, and removing her glasses. “Although to be fair, it’s almost insulting how easy it is to get in here. You should really talk to someone about investing in more advanced security measures.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Agatha asked, fake pouting as she put her arms behind her head, the bottom of her dress shirt riding up, exposing her toned stomach. 

Agatha gave you a sly grin, and you quickly averted your eyes. She was unbelievable, really. 

You don’t know what you ever saw in her.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here, Agatha?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Agatha explained, kicking her feet off your desk, standing up. She pulled what she was reading up from a stack of papers, waving it in front of you. “You had something of mine.”

The file she had left behind. 

You fell quiet, and Agatha took the opportunity to approach you, tilting her head to the side. 

“What a naughty girl, keeping something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ignoring the embarrassing rush of heat that threatened to pool between your thighs, you glowered at her. 

“Save it, Agatha. You left those here and I had no way of getting in touch with you,” you spat out, quickly losing whatever patience you had attempted to hold onto. “Who the hell changes their number nowadays?”

You froze, and Agatha’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before taking a step closer to you, stroking her chin with her thumb. 

“I should feel flattered you saved my number all these years later,” Agatha teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You tensed at her change of tone, her words having too strong of an impact on you. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

Agatha paused, thinking over your words, a calculated grin forming as her blue eyes gleamed. “No, actually. The spousal support I owe my ex wife, for example? Not funny at all, although I’m sure she gets quite the kick out of it.”

You found it rather unsurprising that Agatha managed to marry someone even more deranged than she was, but the difference being you actually liked the ex wife more than the attorney in question.

You’d probably have gone mad as well if you had ended up marrying her.

“You have your papers, get the hell out of my office,” you ordered, not in the mood to continue arguing with her.

Frowning, Agatha set the file on your desk, coming closer to you as she brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning in, breath hot against your skin.

“Do you really want me to leave? If I recall, you used to enjoy our little games.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her voice echoing in your ear, as you rubbed your thighs together, wishing she didn’t cause this strong of a reaction anytime she spoke to you. 

“I want nothing to do with you,” you reminded her, stifling a gasp as the attorney blew in your ear.

“Are you sure?” Agatha mocked, her fingers playfully tugging on your blazer. “You’re so stressed, not that I blame you. Imminent doom tends to leave one feeling tightly wound.”

“I hate you,” you breathed out, but your words held no weight as you didn’t move away from her touch.

“Yes, good,” Agatha cooed, pushing you backwards until your back hit the desk, towering over you. “More of that.”

This needed to stop, you knew it needed to stop. Each time you let her back in it did more harm than good. She was parasitic, infecting you with the need to be consumed by her and her alone.

“Agatha,” you protested, shifting your weight around, unintentional brushing against her pelvis, and your eyes widened, shooting her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

Agatha feigned innocence, pressing her hips flush against yours, and you moaned at the direct contact, feeling the strap she was packing under her pants. “I didn't do what, dear?”

Your body betrayed you as you craved more friction, and Agatha leered, situating her hands on your hips to help you grind against her. Each roll of your hips made you lose whatever sense of self control you were barely grasping onto. The reminders of why this was dangerous territory slipping away as Agatha’s grip on your hip tightened.

The attorney raised one of her hands to roughly grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

Gasping, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at her. “You seriously put that thing on to come over here?”

“Bold of you to assume I wore this for you,” Agatha murmured in your ear and your eyes shot open, glowering at her.

Your taste in women was truly questionable.

“I hate you,” you said, choking back a whine as Agatha’s lips latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking on your exposed skin.

“I know you do,” Agatha said mockingly, the hand she had on your hip, moving to the front of your dress slacks, skillfully unbuttoning them. “That’s why I can smell you, isn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, wriggling out of your pants as they fell around your knees, letting out a pathetic whine as Agatha ran two fingers over your underwear. 

“Soaking through your panties like a whore,” Agatha growled, moving the thin fabric aside to touch your aching cunt, feeling how soaked you were. “Is all of this for me?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back as you gave in to her once more. “Agatha, please.”

Agatha moved her fingers through your slick, finding your clit with ease as she rubbed, kissing the sensitive spot under your jaw. “Please what?”

Bucking your hips up you tried to indicate what you needed, and Agatha seemed to take the hint, teasing your entrance and you let out a guttural moan, trying to fuck yourself on her fingers. 

Letting out a disapproving hum, Agatha removed her fingers, smirking when you cried out in disappointment. She raised her hand, her fingers dripping as they circled your mouth as you parted your lips.

“Suck,” Agatha whispered, forcing you to take her fingers in your mouth. “Show mommy that you deserve her cock.” 

Your cunt clenched at that, the ache becoming more unbearable every second you were left empty. Greedily taking her fingers you sucked them clean, whining at the taste of yourself on your tongue. Agatha let out a low groan as she forced them deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth.

“Such a good slut,” Agatha praised pulling her fingers out, lightly slapping your cheek. “So obedient when your mouth is full. You just want something to suck on, don’t you honey?”

Breathless, you barely recognized the sound of the whimper that escaped your lips. Agatha released you from her grasp, moving to settle into your high-backed leather office chair, index finger curling in a come hither motion, beckoning you to join her. 

“On your knees,” Agatha ordered, removing her slacks to reveal her strap-on.

The dark purple cock was thick, and bigger than what you had grown accustomed to taking in the past few years, and you felt your cunt clench at the thought of having it inside you, stretching you out. Mouth watering you dropped to your knees, and Agatha leaned back in the chair, wrapping her hands around your hair to position where she wanted to.

“Desperate fucking whore,” Agatha degraded you, each word making you drip more than the last. “Make mommy come and I’ll consider fucking that greedy pussy.”

Wasting no time you eagerly leaned forward, tongue swiping out to lick at the head of the toy. Patience had never been the attorney’s strong suit, and she tugged on your hair, forcing you to take more of the cock down your throat. 

“Fuck, good girl,” Agatha moaned, eyes locked on your own as she watched you struggle to take so much at once. “So pretty for mommy when you struggle.”

Her words served as encouragement for you to put on a show, forcing yourself to take her to the hilt. Choking around the strap you felt tears begin to swell in your eyes as you breathed through your nose, and Agatha groaned louder than before. 

“That’s it baby. Swallow me,” Agatha hissed, fucking your face as her hips thrusted harder than before, getting off on using you as her own personal sex toy.

Swearing, Agatha’s hips stilled, face contorted in pleasure as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fingers intertwined in your hair as she tugged on the strands to the point where you let out a muffled moan. Panting, the older woman released her grip on your hair, signaling you were allowed to remove your mouth.

Her strap was covered in your saliva as you caught your breath, but Agatha didn’t allow you much time to recover, a feral look in her eyes as she rose from her chair, yanking you up by the hair to face her. The attorney’s blue eyes were clouded with lust as she impatiently spun you around, bending you over your desk.

The humiliation of being exposed this way was too much, and came to the conclusion you could get off like this alone. You didn’t have to look at Agatha to know she was smirking, pulling on your hair again to make you arch your back. 

“Tell me you missed this,” Agatha murmured into your ear, hands groping every inch of your body she could reach. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were almost too far gone to fully think about the implication of what she was saying, but not enough to give in so easily. 

“You wish,” you threw out, moaning louder at Agatha’s responding slap against your ass. 

“Tell me,” Agatha growled, spanking you again, harder than before, cackling at the way your body reacted to it. “So fucking pathetic, no one else can fuck you like this, can they? ”

You remained silent, trying to restrain yourself from climaxing before you felt her inside you again. Agatha spanked you a third time, the slapping sound echoing throughout your office.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Agatha threatened, and you could tell she was just as far gone as you. “Tell me you missed this.”

“I…I missed this,” you breathed out, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the room, as both you and Agatha knew what you really meant. What she was really asking.

You missed her. 

Agatha rubbed the tip of the strap up and down your cunt, and you whined. She had been torturing you with the teasing, all you wanted was for her to be inside you.

“Mommy, please,” you said, nearly crying.

Without warning Agatha pushed inside your entrance in one thrust, making you take her to the hilt. You nearly screamed, her strap almost painfully deep and your walls fluttered around it. You were so full, the only thought on your mind was how you wanted her to stay inside you forever.

Giving you a moment to adjust to her size, Agatha tugged on your hair again, kissing your neck as her hips rested flush against yours. After a few moments she began to move, thrusting slow but deep, staying buried in your cunt.

“That’s it baby, squeeze my cock,” Agatha moaned, making you feel every inch of her. “Good fucking girl.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered, listening to the obscene sound of your hips thrusting against each other, the noise filling the office. 

“No one else knows what a slut you are, do they?” Agatha mocked, increasing her pace as she fucked you even harder. “You’re just mommy’s little cocksleeve.”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, feeling a familiar tightening as your cunt pulsed around the attorney’s cock. 

“Say it,” Agatha grunted out, moving at an erratic pace. “Say you’re mommy’s cocksleeve.”

“I’m mommy’s cocksleeve,” you said obediently, relishing in the deep groan that left Agatha’s lips, the sound causing you to clench.

You were so close, you could feel it.

Agatha could tell you were nearing your peak, as she wrapped an arm around your waist, lithe fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with her unwavering thrusts. Every second teetering you closer to falling off the edge of pleasure. 

“Do you want something?” Agatha teased, as you were left breathless after a particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please I need to…”

“You need what, slut?” Agatha jeered, removing her fingers from your clit, bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “What do you want?”

“Mommy, please,” you pleaded, gasping as the attorney choked you, the delicious burn nearly causing you to finish.

“Come for mommy, baby,” Agatha said, voice hoarse as she kept her hand wrapped around your throat. “Soak my cock.”

You felt yourself let go, body rippling in pleasure as you came, sporadically moving your hips to meet Agatha’s thrusts as she helped you through your orgasm. The attorney grunted before her hips stilled against yours with one final deep stroke, staying inside you as you came down from your high.

Removing her hand from your throat, Agatha stroked your cheek, a stark contrast to how roughly she just fucked you. You let out a deep sigh, collapsing against your desk. It was unclear how long she stayed inside you before she pulled out, chuckling at your little whimpers from being left empty.

“I never understood why you enjoyed running so much,” Agatha said suddenly, body still pressed against yours as she left kisses on every inch of bare skin she could find. “I’ve always found this to be a much more…pleasurable form of cardio.”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room as you felt your heart rate begin to go back to normal. “Funny, Agatha. Very funny.”

Peeling herself off of you, the attorney gently turned you around before settling back in your chair, allowing you to rest on her lap. 

“That was…” Agatha trailed off, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Agatha didn’t have to finish her thoughts, you knew what she was implying.

You wish this could be easier, this gravitational pull you had towards one another; that things weren’t so majorly twisted between the two of you that you could invite Agatha to dinner and try again. Or to even just have a conversation that didn’t start with an argument and end with both of you naked. 

But that wasn’t the reality of the situation, which finally came back to you as you finally caught your breath. 

This couldn’t keep happening.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said suddenly, clearing your throat as you got off the attorney’s lap. “Um, thanks for…”

“For the muffins?” Agatha jested, avoiding your eyes as she stood up, helping you find your clothes. “Your sweet tooth is hard to forget.”

You smiled for a moment, a bittersweet feeling overtaking you as you let her words hit you. 

“Yeah, for the muffins.”

Agatha finished redressing, her brown hair splayed messily over her shoulders as she unsuccessfully attempted to tame it. You grabbed a spare hair tie from a drawer in your desk, and held it up to her. Agatha nodded, turning around, allowing you to gather her hair and pull it back. You swore you heard her sigh as your fingers combed through the tousled locks, but you quickly secured it, taking a step back.

The attorney turned back around, an uncertain expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed, her frown line becoming more prominent as she stared at you, deep blue eyes boring into your own. 

“You read the hospital records,” Agatha stated, in a tone so certain you questioned why she chose to say it at all.

“Of course not,” you lied, but Agatha’s piercing gaze saw right through you as she arched an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“And?” Agatha prompted, looking expectantly at you.

“And what?” You questioned, motioning to where the file lay abandoned on the opposite side of your desk. “The majority of the pages are missing. There’s nothing useful there.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted, looking to the ground for just a second, and when she looked back up her signature smirk had returned. “Of course, right as always, dear. I’ll see you in court.”

She snatched the file in her hands before leaving your office, slamming the door shut, leaving you alone, and wondering what the hell just happened. A sinking feeling in your gut was suggesting this case was far more complicated than you had been led to believe.

[sockatoothewafflebird]

i keep scrolling through the arcane tag and at least 40% of it is about caitlyn kiramman's warmongering dictator arc. apologies to my followers for being so obsessed with her but i have to add more fuel to the fire that is caitlyn character analyses. please hear me because only one of my caitlyn posts gets attention i want it to be this one.

i personally see caitlyn's character in season 2 as:

a painfully realistic portrayal of how quickly the privileged can go off their rockers at the lower class when they do literally anything wrong. "It's so easy to hate them."

a woman in mourning with no outlet for her grief and anger, scraping at the walls for any semblance of revenge she can get her hands on.

a puppet of the leaders that will use her for their own gain, which will ultimately only make the corruption and prejudice in the system worse and worse. (ambessa.... when i catch you ambessa...)

all of these things can coexist. and they do. arcane is so fucking good at making complex, nuanced, morally-grey characters, and caitlyn is no different.

(putting the rest under the cut bc this got LONG... sorry💀)

something about when you spend your life as a part of the upper class, equality feels like oppression. something about the upper class lashes out when the lower class does nothing but defend themselves, because both feel threatened by the other, but only the lower class is justified in that. something about CAITLYN IS A GASLIGHT-GATEKEEP-GIRLBOSS AND I DO NOT CONDONE HER ACTIONS!!! i stand with my cancelled queen in the sense that i just want to know if she pulls out a ukulele or reciepts!

the worst part about being a caitlyn fan is that she's gonna get worse before she gets better. that's a plain and simple fact. she is going to hurt people, she is going to kill people, she is going to fuck things up; whether it be directly or indirectly, by her own hand or through the puppeteering of ambessa. probably both.

she is going to do horrible things, whether we like it or not. she already has, look at the ventilation systems and how she exploited the grey. she'll only truly be able to realize she's wrong if she goes down to zaun and sees the damage she's done for herself, thinks long and hard about what she's fighting for. she's lost her way and she's gonna have to crawl through the trenches to find it again.

she's using and abusing her power because of things she shouldn't be using as excuses. jinx killed her mother; the attacks at the memorial service; except those don't justify her actions. explains them, maybe. but she's turning into the exact kind of person you'd expect someone of her status to become. someone with power to her name, using it against those below her because she thinks it's justified, with no one bold enough to stop her.

she's going down a dark path and i am HERE to see how she fixes her mistakes in the end... if she even does. i'm excited to see what they do with her. will vi forgive her? will anyone?

that's for the writers to decide. i have faith that they'll execute it well no matter which way it goes. flawed, yes, as all things are, but they will get this right. if they don't i'm gonna be on a watchlist by the end of the month.

oh, caitlyn kiramman, gaslighting-gatekeeping-girlbossing in act 2. what a piece of work. and i'm just a down-bad lesbian that likes psychoanalyzing fictional lesbians. like... have you seen that woman???? she's too good to not put under a microscope. it's like the writers were baiting me specifically.

if anyone has any theories btw, caitlyn related or not, lemme hear them because i will listen. i will read every essay about this show i come across if it costs me my life 🫡

[nightfang22]

For the wayne smut could you add the idea of them losing their virginity to each other. Thank you<3

Of course I can!Thank you so much and I hope you love it!Sorry if it's not great,it is my first spicy fic.Anyways,lemme know what you think!

Virgin Lovers

Warnings:SMUT Minors DNI

Pairing:Wayne McCullough x f!Reader

Word Count:1.5k

His smile. His eyes. His lips. Wayne McCullough infected your every thought. He made you feel things that you had never felt before. As you were lost in thought, you didn't realize that your phone had been constantly buzzing. You picked it up on the third ring of the 4th call. "Hello?"

"Hey Y/n, you got any plans later?" It was Orlando. You and Orlando had always been good friends which is how you met Wayne. Orlando had introduced you two one day when you had begged him not to make you skip class alone.

                                                         *Flashback*

"Pleaseeeee Orlando? I don't wanna go alone and you're way better at this than I am! Besides, I'm only skipping to help you get these new Pokemon cards you wanted! I don't have to do this, you know." You pouted and whined until he conceded. "Fine fine I'll go with you. You probably wouldn't know what to look for anyways." You were about to make an offended rebuttal when something else caught his attention. Or someone, you should say. Turning around to see who it was, you thought it was just going to be the girl he's been constantly crushing on with a spinal cage. But no. When you turned around, you saw none other than Wayne McCullough walking in your direction down the hallway. You felt your heart pound and your cheeks flush. Your throat constricted and suddenly your mouth had run dry. You guess Orlando had noticed this and nudged you in the side with his elbow. "Oooo somebody got it bad, huh? Who is it? Is it the guy with the clarinet you have band with?" You jabbed him with your elbow back and tried not to stare at Wayne's gorgeously bruised up face. Orlando caught notice and smiled wide. "Oh, you got it bad for my boy, Wayne huh? Want me to hook you up?" Your head snapped violently in his direction. "I swear to the Gods Orlando, if you embarrass me in front of him I will kill you." Wayne walked up to us and looked at Orlando, giving a little head nod. "Wayne man! Where you been?" Wayne chuckled a little and it was this sexy soft rumbling noise. "Whatcha mean? I'm like 20 minutes late." Orlando laughed. "Yeah 20 minutes and like 3 weeks!" Orlando must have seen you fidgeting with the rings on the chain around your neck cause he put his hand on your shoulder and looked at Wayne. "Wayne, this is Y/n L/n. She's new-ish. She was new, like a month ago." You felt Wayne's eyes on you and you looked up at him through your eyelashes before smiling awkwardly. "Y/n, this is the man. The myth. The legend. My best friend, Wayne mothafuckin McCullough." Wayne punched Orlando in the shoulder and he winced. "Damn man! I'm tryin to do you a favor!" Wayne's eyes never left yours, even when you felt your cheeks tinge pink and you looked away briefly.

                                                     *Flashback Over*

You had been inseparable ever since. Wayne ended up cutting class with you and at some point you had completely lost Orlando and went to some record store where Wayne had asked you if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. You and Wayne have been together for 3 years now and you could never be happier.

"Uh not really. Probably just homework. Why?"

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me and Wayne to this club off campus later? It's supposed to be super rave and like alternative vibes and I know that's your shit. It took me forever to get Wayne to agree and I maybe sorta already told him you'd go?" "Orlando!"

"I'm tryin to get a hot goth girlfriend! Help a brotha out!"

  I sigh in defeat through my nose. "Fine. I'll go. But the moment anyone is too drunk, we're leaving. Got it?"

 "Yeah yeah for sure! Thanks, Y/n! You the best!"

                                                *Timeskip to the club*

You look around at your environment. It's a lot of flashing lights and loud music. Not really your scene. You scan the crowd for Orlando and Wayne when you spot them against the wall outside. You walk up to them and you notice Wayne's eyes scan up and down your body. You're wearing a faux leather 2 piece with a silver body chain covered in dangly purple and blue rhinestones with black sparkly platforms. "Hey guys, sorry if I'm late I-" You get interrupted by Wayne pulling you in by the waist. He keeps you close to him and it looks like he's glaring at something when you look up at his face. You look over and see him glaring at some guy. The creep looked like he was eyeing you and you weren't for it. You curled closer to Wayne before Orlando waved us to go inside with him. The place was loud but very hype and fun. It didn't really seem like your kind of scene though. You don't get why Orlando wanted us to come. Neither you or Wayne were much of the party type. After watching everyone dance for a while, you decided to call it a night.

Wayne took you home and got you settled inside, laying you down in bed. You just laid there staring at his beautiful face. "I love you." Wayne never blushes but his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. You don't know where the courage came from but you leaned up and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss quickly evolved into a heated makeout session. Wayne crawled into bed on to of you, pulling away only to take off his shoes cause he knows you have a thing about shoes on the bed. His hands roam your body in your pretty outfit. You pull away tossing off your body chain and making quick work of his shirt. Wayne wasn't necessarily 'buff' but he was very well tones and had a gorgeous frame. Your hands glided from his shoulders down to his waistline, working on the button of his jeans. He pulled away to look at you. "Are you sure? I-I mean I've never. And you've never. What if you regret it?" You pull him in for a sweet kiss. "I could never regret it. If anything, I wouldn't want to lose it to anyone else." That must have really got him going cause he practically tore off your clothes. He slid his jeans off along with his underwear and kissed my neck, pulling a gasp from you. When he pulls away, you finally have a good chance to look at him and holy fuck. You didn't realize your boyfriend was so….well endowed. Big enough that it looked like it might hurt. Wayne grabbed something out of his wallet and when you noticed what it was, he looked at you sheepishly. "Orlando gave it to me." He shrugged and smiled shyly. He rolled on the condom and crawled back over you. "And you're absolutely sure?" You nodded and placed your arms around his neck so that you could play with his hair. He placed himself at your entrance before stopping. "Hang on gimme your leg." You looked at him confused before lifting your leg and he placed it up on his shoulder, doing the same with the other one. "I read somewhere that it hurts less if you do it like this." He realigned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed in. You felt tears prick your eyes as he stretched you and he kissed your forehead, stopping. He made you look into his eyes. "Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head. He stayed still, waiting for you to adjust until you nodded you head. He began to move and even though it hurt, it was a good hurt. You moaned softly as he bottomed out inside you. Wayne gently bit down on your shoulder and kissed it before placing his forehead on yours, beginning to find a steady rhythm. Your moans were the sweetest sound he had ever heard and he just wanted to keep hearing them. With one especially rough thrust he hit that special spot inside you and you arched your back while digging your nails into his and he ate that shit up. He continued at that pace as you screamed out his name in pure ecstasy. You felt the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and your breathing picked up more. He held you close as you came crashing down from your high as his hips stuttered, painting the inside of the condom with his seed. He pulled out slowly, tossing the condom into the bin. He got up to grab a towel to clean you up and brought back a glass of water for you. After you're all cleaned up, he crawls back into bed with you, covering you up and pulling you close as you slowly fall asleep in his arms.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Brother Mine (Winchester!Reader x Sam and Dean Winchester PLATONIC)

@xweirdo101x Hello, hope you are having a good day/nightI was wondering if I could request a Sam and Dean having an older brother (maybe by one or 2 years)  maybe they haven't seen reader in a couple years. The brother's finally get to see reader when he pulls them out of trouble?

(okay, author's note in that Sam is 22 at the start of the show and Dean is 26. The show spans the same amount of time as in the real world, technically, so Sam ends the show at 37 while Dean ends it at 41. Meaning this elder brother is probably 28 at the start and ends it 43. Good lord, that show went on for a while lol)

"So, explain to me why the two of you chuckleheads are in jail in freaking Kentucky? Because last I heard, Sam was going to college in California and you were still hunting boogeymen with Dad."

The two young men in front of you share a glance as you bail them out of some podunk town's drunk tank.

"Dad's... in trouble." Sam sighs, finally, to a harsh glare from Dean.

"Good riddance to bad assholes." you growl, and Dean clenches his fist

You and your little brothers don't exactly have a great relationship.

With the better part of seventeen years of your lives dedicated to hunting what lies in the darkness, spurred on by your domineering and obsessive father, Dean always has blamed you for "abandoning the family" and "breaking Dad's heart" because you left the life at nineteen and left seventeen year old Dean and thirteen year old Sam behind.

You did the amateur boxing circuit for a while before you were hired on to an indie security company and ended up catching the eye of the owner who trained you until you took over, eventually buying the company and running it.

You know a lot of your money was sent to help pay off any expenses Sam had, but you don't know if it was used for that or blown for motel stays or alcohol or sawed-off-shotguns or salt slugs for Dean and John.

You tried to stay in touch with Sam, but it was awkward. And he wanted space away from "family."

So you know neither of them would ever contact you unless something real bad happened (and apparently Dean's grudge was so strong that he wouldn't even inform you that John went missing)

Though to be perfectly honest, it wouldn't really matter to you anyway, and that's a matter to discuss with your therapist.

"I can't believe you called him." Dean grumbles, like a child.

"Sam apparently knew you'd need a responsible adult." you snark, and he grimaces. "Now, care to tell me why you're road-tripping?"

Sam looks at you. "My girlfriend. Jess. Whatever got Mom... it got her too."

"And you think that Dad is close to tracking it down and that's why he vanished." you sigh.

"Lemme guess, you're gonna tell us that there's nothing that goes bump in the night?" Dean sneers, looking at Sam.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna tell you that it's not your job to chase it. It's not your duty."

"We save people. We hunt things. It's the family business." Dean growls.

"Jesus, Dean, do you hear how you sound?" you groan. "It's this kind of obsession that I tried to get away from! A terrible thing happened to Mom, and there was nothing any of us could do to stop it. It's not our fault, and it's not our responsibility to chase whatever did it down!"

"It's just gonna keep hurting people. We've seen it happening. It's gathering other people like Sam."

"Fuck." you growl.

Dean senses an in. "You were even better than me, back in the day. Remember when you ganked that skinchanger?"

He says "you were only 14" with as much reverence and awe as you do disgust and shame.

"I can't convince either of you to... let the chips fall where they may?"

"Nope." Dean pops the "p" sound.

"Sorry, no." Sam adds.

"I don't wanna kill things anymore, Dean. Not even bad things. But I do care about you both. So here. I'm going to help you, on one condition. We're going to all come back to my place in California, and Sam is going to apply to fucking law school, and you're gonna think about what you really want with your life, Dean."

They think.

They look at each other.

They nod.

"Welcome back." Dean grins.

"You better not still drive that shitty Impala and listen to crappy 80s rock."

Sam winces.

[somehow-a-human]

Moonlight Serenade & Good Omens &... the TV show Lost...?

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

The music of Good Omens is something I have been ACTIVELY avoiding turning my focus on. The risks of hyperfixating and spiraling into it are HIGH. There are so many elements to get lost in, repeating motifs like Dies Irae, tolling bells, character themes... but I digress.

Could I hold out forever? no. and something finally pushed me over the edge. Wait for it..... Lost. Yep. The TV show Lost. WAIT WAIT, don't leave! STAY WITH ME! I promise I don't *think* I'm crazy and I have a point here!

Why Lost? And what does it have to do with Moonlight Serenade and WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH GOOD OMENS?! Well my lovelies continue under the cut with me and keep an open mind...

Okay so... Lost. Yes, the insane 2004 mystery plane crash island adventure drama. It's a wild ride, and a masterpiece and a little bit crazy, but overall pretty damn good. I've been on a rewatch spree and wouldn't you know it... parallels between lost and Good Omens popped up in my brain! I mean they are both intricate mysteries so it makes a tad bit of sense but there was one little detail that *might* be a *clue*, or just an easter egg if anything. I promise you don't need to know anything about Lost to follow this :)

First off, what are some of the recurring themes that Lost the TV show and Good Omens have in common you might ask?

Life & Death

Alternate timelines & Time Travel

Literary Allusions (Catch-22, The Bible, A Tale of Two Cities)

Prophecies & Premonitions

Symbolism of Black & White/ Light & Dark

Yeah okay that tracks, but look there are 121 episodes of Lost and 12 episodes (so far) of Good Omens so there's bound to be some overlap for these two.

You'll be thinking about now, "BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH MOONLIGHT SERENADE?!" I'm getting there, shhh, lemme pet your hair gently and keep giving you background information to build it up shhhh...

If you've never seen Lost there is a very good chance you're mighty confused at this moment, so let me reassure you, you don't need to know anything about it to understand the connections I'm going to make. A brief synopsis is: Oceanic flight 815 crashes on an island. The plane crash survivors quickly discover the island is more than it seems to be and holds many secrets and mysteries. A lot of people die, most of them are murdered, it's giving Lord of the Flies if it was in the horror genre. That's honestly all you need to know.

Time Travel & Alternate Timelines

Time travel is cannon in Lost. It's super confusing and I'm not even going to try to explain any of it here. It's honestly just not worth it. If you'd like to try and read about it, the abridged version is here, but I don't think the details are important. Just know it's real and confirmed and exists.

Okay so, *SPOILERS FOR LOST WILL FOLLOW* In Lost season 2, episode 13 "The Long Con" two of the plane crash survivors are trying to find a signal on a radio they've found. While scrubbing they come across a signal playing Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. One character mentions it must be from somewhere nearby, but the other counters that this type of radio can pick up signals from anywhere in the world. There is a beat and then another character jokingly adds "Or any time. Just kidding, dude."

It's later confirmed that the Lost characters in 2004 are indeed picking up a radio signal from 1940 that is playing Moonlight Serenade, a product of time travel.

Congratulations, you've made it to the point where I'm going to bring Good Omens into the mix. In season 2, episode 4 "The Hitchhiker" we open seeing Aziraphale driving back from Edinburgh late at night/early morning. Uncomfortable with the darkness and silence he asks the Bentley to "play something that's got a bit of swing? I'm in the mood for something modern."

The Bentley obliges the angel, as she always will, and we are shown a shot of the radio specifically lighting up, so we know she's tapped into the radio to play this for Azi, but there is no channel selected.

Compared to Season 2, Episode 3 "I Know Where I'm Going" when we see the radio is playing and does display the channel.

But hold on. Okay maybe it just isn't showing the channel, that's fine, but Aziraphale asked for "modern"? Moonlight Serenade is most certainly not modern. It was recorded in 1939! I'd say in 2023 it's anything but modern, maybe not in Aziraphale's long lived opinion, but certainly in the Bentley's opinion, given she's only a 97 year old car.

I think you can see now what I'm saying here. I think the Bentley picked up a radio signal from 1940, maybe 1941? Episode 4 is of course our 1941 blitz magic show bullet catch flashback extravaganza, so... it makes sense. I know we like to headcanon Crowley and Aziraphale listened to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square in the bookshop in 1941 after the bullet catch, but what if they listened to Moonlight Serenade on the radio instead?

What does it mean?

A reference to this small moment from Lost could be a nod to the first hint of the canonization of time travel in that series. We know Crowley can control time to some extent and we can see some evidence of time discontinuities and possibly time weirdness in season 2 so is it a hint that timeline funkiness IS happening? Do I want to get into the fact that the main character in The Hitchhiker, the Twilight Zone episode this episode is named after, is actually dead? No I don't, not now anyway.

Or it's just an absolutely lovely little Lost easter egg.

SO! There it is... weird little connection that I couldn't get out of my brain. It just seemed a bit too... ineffable.

As always this is all for fun and all for fans! Don't ask Neil about these things, they're for us to have fun with. And something else that I don't think some people on here understand about meta-analysis; the goal of it is not necessarily to be correct. It can be, if that's your thing. Refuting peoples posts, theories, analysis, and headcanons because you personally don't agree with them and telling them they're wrong and stupid doesn't achieve anything. Meta-analysis is an exercise in critical thinking and creative writing. You could write meta about how Spongebob is a critique of the loss of christian values in modern society and you wouldn't be right or wrong, you'd just certainly be a person who wrote that for sure though. Just, be kind to each other, share ideas, you're allowed to disagree with someone's ideas or have different ones of your own but don't be cruel in saying so, don't call someone stupid, that's just silly.

Love you all, do something kind for yourself today <3

ps. The moment I see Michael Sheen with blonde hair come January I'm gonna bark like a dog, that's all. Thanks.

[l1ghtfromthecloset]

Some funny/wholesome headcanons I have for some of the YGO DM characters:

Yugi: Can never find anything. Like ever. Yami used to help him find missing things and now that he's gone, anytime Yugi can't find something, it ends up on his bed exactly 20 minutes later magically. Every. time.

Joey: Is amazing at braiding hair. He used to do it for Serenity all the time.

Téa: Despite being amazing at dancing, she's not that great at singing. But she's also really good at lip syncing so it makes up for it.

Tristan: opposite to Téa, he is severely uncoordinated when it comes to dancing, but pretty good at singing. He also owns a guitar in his closet.

Mokuba: He likes to eat straight up coffee beans. Like, just the beans. Straight from the bag. Seto walked in on this one morning and now he is forever secretly terrified of his little brother in the morning.

Seto: He listens to lofi and Hans Zimmer when he works. He listens to metal when he builds decks, and he listens to "You're not me" on repeat regularly. (I made an entire Spotify playlist based on this).

Seto and Mokuba: they combat train together. It's how they bond. And Mokuba somehow beats Seto every time.

Bakura: despite being the Bri'ish little fella we know and love, he hates tea. Especially black tea. Even if it's sweetened. He prefers coffee over anything.

Marik: used to love tea but stopped drinking it once he found out that Bakura hates it. Now he drinks coffee, despite not liking it that much.

Rebecca: she secretly still sleeps with her teddy. She also reads a quantum mechanics book before she sleeps. 💀

Duke: He has a small side hustle in making resin dice. He has a pretty creative and crafty side.

That's all I can think of for now :p

Lemme know if y'all want more. You're free to add on your own to this if you'd like :)

[merakiui]

HOLY!!!!!!!!! Can i have Floyd with "what's up with not calling me back?"??? if you're still doing the fwb dialogues!!!

(fwb dialogues)

For most of the week, Floyd's committed himself to following you around like a lost puppy. It was amusing the first day (and ominous to those who weren't aware of his involvement with you), but now it's Friday and you're beyond fed up. It was one thing to watch him seat himself beside you at lunch, thereby snatching Ace's usual spot, but it's another entirely to have him wait outside of Ramshackle to pick you up.

He's determined. You weren't expecting he'd last through the week. You're not particularly entertaining when you're so focused on your own priorities, but somehow that hasn't deterred him.

"Do you need something?" you ask, shutting and locking the door. Grim left before you, but now you almost wish he was here. The tension, though not as thick, is still troubling to navigate.

"Nah. Just wanna shadow ya today."

"You've done that all week."

"Shrimpy's been interesting all week."

You roll your eyes and stride ahead. He easily falls into step beside you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. It's quiet for all of two minutes before Floyd decides to break it.

"So what's up with not calling me back?"

"You'd know since you were following me all week." You peer up at him, arms folding sternly over your chest.

"That's just it. I don't."

"I was busy, Floyd."

"Busy," he parrots with a slight frown. "Mmkay."

"I need to study for a few upcoming exams."

"I getcha."

"So you can't distract me."

"I'd never."

"I'm serious. I need to get my grades up. I'm on the verge of falling behind."

"So I'll study with ya."

"Absolutely not."

Floyd pouts. "It ever occur to you that I wanna spend time with you outside of sex?"

"Not once."

"Well, I do."

"I highly doubt that." When he doesn't justify that with a retort, you add, "I haven't been ignoring you if that's what you think."

"I never said that."

"Okay... So why're you so hung up on me not calling you back?"

For a slim second, you think he looks conflicted. There's doubt in those normally bright two-toned eyes of his. But then it's gone, quick as a flash, and Floyd's back to wearing his sticky smile.

"'m not hung up. I was gonna ask ya somethin' real important."

"And you couldn't text it to me?"

"Nah. Calling's better." Floyd skips ahead towards the building. "You doin' anything for break?"

"Probably not."

He turns to look at you. "Cool."

You hurry to catch up, taking the stairs two at a time. "Why? Are you?"

"Yeah. I'm not gonna have my phone, so we won't be able to call."

"What? But... Oh, right. The sea." You wonder if you'll miss him during those two weeks. It'll definitely be quieter. "Have fun."

The both of you come to a halt in front of your classroom. He smiles at you. It looks sincere enough, almost hopeful.

"You could come with, y'know."

"To the sea?"

"Where else? Jade 'n I will show ya around. Take ya to our favorite spots."

"I'll think about it."

"Aren't you writing a paper on merfolk? You could study 'em up close if you came with. I'll even letcha check me out for your research."

You raise a curious brow. "Is that the 'real important' thing you wanted to ask me?"

"Maybe. I'll tell you if you come with. I'll get Azul to make you a potion. He'll do it."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"Where would I stay?"

"My parents' place. They'll let you. Won't be a problem at all." He tilts his head at you. "Sooo, you comin' or not?"

"Um... I don't know. I'll think about it."

"Sure. Lemme know when you decide." Before he takes his leave, he adds, "I bet your paper'll be a real hit. Might even get you back to passing."

You scoff. "I can write it without your help."

"Of course you can. I never said you couldn't." And then he's slinking off to his classroom, his giggle still bouncing around inside your brain.

When you find your seat in class and dig your textbook out of your bag, a startling thought hits you: Wait. I'd stay with him at his parents' place?!

Just what are you getting yourself into? More importantly, why do you feel so inclined to agree?

[gothwineaunts]

woah I have a question

will nevermore get keychains like Shiloh?

(the character keychains) I adore my Shiloh ones and would love to to see nevermore characters as keychains they would be adorable!

Yes! We want to do something very similar with the Nevermore cast. We plan to put spectres on one side and students on the other. Don't quote me on it though because we haven't gotten into designing them yet. There's a possibility we can't make it work and decide to do spectre charms and student charms separately. Either way, you can likely expect probably charms, more enamel pins, and maybe standees (??) in the future. Lemme know if there's anything else you'd all like to see there! We'll probably add a bunch of stuff to the shop during the season break when we've got more time to design new merch. Thank you so much for buying from our shop!! We're so happy you like your charms. <333

[double--hh]

Henry, reluctantly exploring the Astral Circle Appartment Complex, "I swear, I hear a little girl around here, sound like shes nine or something... where's her parents?!"

Quachil, manifesting itself through a wall, "Mmm, I'm 15, so shut the fuck up."

___

*~imagine phones exist in the 50s~*

Ciprianni- can you shrow the hole vid

Steven- *show *whole

Ciprianni- I'm from Italy!!!!!!!!!!

Steven- I pound dudes!!!!!

___

Teutates, writing a very strongly worded letter to Abducius, "Yo, bro, what should I start this off with?"

Ah Puch, "...to whom it may aggravate?"

Teutates, "...Shit, no, that's now the title of a song, think of something else."

___

Anastacha, walking with her friends, "If you remove all veins, arteries, and capillaries from your body and lay them end to end, you will die...or whatever."

One of her friends, "...I'm starting to see why your dad left."

___

Robertsky, walking outside in a torrential thunderstorm, "I got a pocket full of sunshine... why'd you make me ginger?!"

Insert Robertsky getting struck by lightening.

___

Nacha, sitting in Mia & W's apartment with Mia, holding some failed essays from Anastacha...

Mia, "Nacha, I'm getting pretty worried about Anastacha, like, look at what she wrote for one of her essay openers, 'Buckle your seatbelts boys and girls, Teacher or whoever is reading this at this spectacular time in your life.. da-da-da... so sit down and shut up and listen to my 3-AM-Monster-Energy-ADHD-Medicine-Induced-Self-Hatred-Fulled-Extravaganza about the Industral Revolution... or whatever.'"

Nacha, sighing and pinching her eyebrows, "Why am I not surprised... That's the last time I'm letting Francis help her with school work."

___

Mia, two seconds away from a mental break down, knocking on the Rudboys' door.

Steven answers, "Oh! Mia! What's up?"

Mia, eye twitching, "Steven, take me to the range before I pull my hair out."

Steven, nodding, "Lemme grab Ciprianni, meet me downstairs."

~20 minuets later~

Mia, unloading a full magazine at moving targets, hitting all of them.

Ciprianni, mildly concerned, "How... the hell is she doing that?!"

Steven, watching her, "Man, she was a WAC, armorer type. Kinda in her blood."

Ciprianni, shaking his head, loading his pistol, "You Americans concern me."

___

Izaack, writting frivolously in his notebook, "Mn-hm, and anything else you'd like to add?"

Mia, chuckling, "Ah, yes, list the source as... 1984 by Gorge Orwell."

Izaack, stopping mid sentence and slowly glares at Mia, frowing, "...You did not just quote another book and passed it off as facts about the Trojan Horse Project again... did you?"

Mia, taking a sip of her coffee, "What? So I'm the bad guy for reccomenting you more books to read after your 'minute and minute' fiasco earlier today, Gauss?"

Izaack, scribbling out everything except for the book title, flipping it shut, "I'll have you know, Ms. Stone, I read every damn day and our teleprompter is new!"

Mia, smiling, "Oh you're such a phony, Izaack, it's amusing."

Izaack, snapping a finger at her, "Ah! Catcher in the Rye! J.D. Salinger!"

Mia, nodding, "So you do take my recommendations!"

___

The Schmicht's, moving into the Apartment, "Oh, Gloria, I think we did just right chosing this place!"

Gloria, smiling, "Yeah, yeah, watch there be some sort of fanclub for your novels!"

Anold, placing a box down, "Heh, I doubt it! I'm still trying to find a time and place for a meet and greet!"

The Sverchzt's, Lois, Margrette, and Rafttellyn, looking up from the stair case,

"Oh my god, is that the Arnold Schmicht?!"

"You think he can give up an early copy of Ceasefire of Hostility?!"

"I have GOT to get his signature!"

"Do you think we can invite the both of them to tomorrow's meeting?! He said his wife is his muse from the last interview!"

Gloria looks out the door and watches the group of book nerds scramble down the stairs, whispering to eachother.

"Bubbles, because you live on the same floor, you better share the spoilers!"

"Oh hush I will!"

Arnold, "Who was that, sweetie?"

Gloria, "Your fanclub."

[vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds]

My Heart Went Boom (or how The Beatles would react to an s/o who loves their heartbeat)

(Image source is I honestly don't know, I found it on Pinterest- if you know the source, lemme know and I'll add it c: )

This is my first attempt at writing something for all four Beatles (I usually just write Paul ;A;) so please bear with me (and let me know if I've messed up someone's personality) c: also this was written by me specifically for me so it's incredibly niche and I'm honestly only posting in case someone else wants it lol (I'm sorry if it's super weird)

John:

John is a little shit

Anyway

He knows about your habit but refuses to tell you he knows, instead opting to aggravate the shit out of you in the most loving way possible

Most days, he'd come home, out of breath from outrunning fans and reporters, but still with a cheeky smile about his face

"Oh, my little birdie, my heart is beating so fast! Come listen?~"

You'd turn bright red bc how the fuck does he know about that

The day would pass with no other mention of it until you're lying in bed together

"You know I love you, Y/N" he says it almost like an apology

"I know, Johnny"

Paul:

Paul noticed you had a habit of lying on top of him, particularly on days when you were sad

It wasn't until he realized you also tapped his arm in a particular rhythm that he realized exactly what you were doing

After that, he'd make a note to always ask if you were okay or needed anything and to take some deep breaths to slow down his heart rate

Sometimes, if he senses that you're upset but you're not lying on top of him, he'll say, "Come listen to my heart?" (You never felt the need to verbally confess to him, as you had an unspoken understanding)

One time, his mouth got ahead of his brain, and out came, "Come listen, my heart?"

And thus, a new nickname was born

At some point, "my heart" becomes "mon coeur"

Sometimes, he'll ask completely in French and it makes your own heart flutter

George:

With George, it began as morbid curiosity

After all, he's such a skinny thing, if you look closely enough at any of his pulse points, you can see the rhythm

At some point, it turned into a comfort thing, knowing his heart beats only for you, even if it does sound like a bird fluttering half the time

One day, you're lying on the couch, watching the telly, head on his chest

"Are ye listenin' to my heart, Y/N?"

You blush at first, caught completely off-guard, but manage to say, "Yes"

He asks why and you explain

He's silent at first, not knowing what to think, but then his mouth turns up in a smile and his chest puffs with pride

It makes him feel strong knowing you feel comfort in him

Ringo:

You'd had the habit of listening to Ringo for a while, even before you started dating

You'd relish in the moments where you'd simply have a "friend cuddle", as the two of you called them, as you'd press your ear gently above his heart, hoping he wouldn't notice the ever-so delicate touch on his chest

After he'd gotten tonsillitis, though, your habit increased

He was oblivious, thinking you just wanted to hug or cuddle, but for you, it was almost like you needed to hear him to make sure he was alive and well

Sometimes, you'd find yourself pressed against him in the middle of the night, the spaces between beats agonizingly slow (even if it was an average 75 bpm)

At some point, he finally catches on. "Y/N, you know I'm alright now, right?"

You sigh. "I know, Ritchie, it's just-"

He'd cut you off by holding you tight and whispering reassurances in your ear

[toxicbrothel]

(I know, I'm an awful person. I hope Madame won't talk about it to Raider 👀)

POV

1.5k Carter x f!reader (one off, not sweet pea)

I8+ smut, tw ref to past SA, self touch erase. Set in the past. I don't think Joel will mind this one 😁.

Hypothetically, you don't know any of the guys who are milling around your house when you get home from a long walk, but you can tell they're raiders. You manage to slip away undetected, or so you think. You walk by the shed on your way to the woods, and a deep voice greets you, "howdy." You're startled and turn around. You must look terrified.

"Whoa, ain't gonna hurt ya." It's a hot, muscular guy with dirty blonde hair sitting on a log against the back of the shed, finishing a cigarette. He looks like a model. "Just sayin' hey," he murmurs, checking you out. He doesn't have the same vibe as the others. "Go ahead, ain't gonna say nothin'." He nods toward the treeline. When you just stand there, he offers, "or you're welcome to sit" and scoots over to make room. "They'll be in there a while," he mutters. He offers you the cigarette. You sit down next to him and take a small puff. You cough and he laughs and pats you on the back. His smile makes warmth rush to your loins.

"I got more of those," you offer and open your bag.

"Yeah? I'm Carter."

You introduce yourself. You feel safe around him, not sure why. This is the first man you've felt safe around since a stranger forced you to your knees with a gun to your head. You have the strongest urge to suck Carter's cock. He's nice, he's strong, he's sexy. And of course, you've been thinking if you could feel another one in your mouth, that might make it all go away.

"Yeah," you take an old pack of cigarettes out of your bag and fidget with them. "We could, uh, trade or something," you suggest.

"That's alright, sugar. 'fraid I don't have much to offer." He leans back against the barn and you admire the way his tan bicep swells out from his short sleeve as he manspreads on the log.

You scoot a little closer and he watches you curiously, letting his eyes fall down your body again.

"Maybe you do," you practically whisper, then push yourself off the log. You get on your knees between his legs and he tenses.

"Whoa, ok. Said I wasn't gonna hurt ya didn't I?"

"I know," you glance around self-consciously. "But. If you'd let me. I'd really like to. . ." You cautiously reach for his inner thigh and he doesn't stop you. You add your other hand to the other side and slowly massage his thick, meaty muscles.

He relaxes again, then mutters, "What're ya doin' here?"

You swallow and look down. Why can't he just make this easy?

"Could I please," you begin with your heart racing. You scoot forward a little more, and your eyes glue to an attractive bulge in his beige tactical pants. You feel a zing between your legs. Your hand slides up his inner thigh, all the way to his groin, until your thumb brushes his balls, and he flinches but doesn't stop you as you reach his hardening manhood.

You slide your hand over the warm, impressive bulge. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as you massage him. You're gushing now, feeling the shape of his big cock hardening under your palm. After a minute, you bring your hands to the button of his pants and he opens his eyes. You look up to him for permission and he squints at you.

“Lemme suck it,” you blurt out, giving up on a graceful way to ask. “I'll give you the whole pack.”

He laughs in disbelief. “Tryin’ to gimme head and a pack’a cigarettes?”

You nod earnestly. He rests his head back against the barn. “well, shit. . .don't stop now.” He moves one of your hands back onto the bulge in his pants and massages himself with your hand. After a few seconds, he unbuttons and unzips himself for you and you lift your hand as he tugs his pants down a bit.

There's a dark spot on his heather gray boxer briefs that makes you salivate. He shoves his massive hand into the front of his boxer briefs and asks, “you sure ‘bout this?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Please.”

He brings the waistband down under his cock and balls and your breath hitches. You didn't know they could be so good looking. You wrap your hand around his thick shaft and look his tip in the eye as you wet your lips. Meanwhile, you cradle his balls which fill up your other hand with ease. “It's. You're. Really handsome,” you say in a near whisper.

He brushes your cheek with his knuckles. “Ain't bad yourself,” he murmurs with half a smile.

You lower your head and close your lips around his tip.

“Ohh, fuck,” he sighs. You guess it's been a while. You tongue the slit and he gasps. Then you slowly take his shaft into your mouth. You come up an inch, strongly dragging your tongue along his veins, then go down further. His hand comes to your head, and you almost flinch, but he doesn't push your head down. He brushes your hair behind your ear and cradles the back of your head gently. His hand is so large you feel like it's engulfing your whole head. You suck from the back of your throat and he twitches in your mouth. “Ahh,” he moans as if he's close to coming already.

His other hand nudges your jaw as though to take your mouth off his cock. You let it fall out and ask, “did I hurt you?”

“Nah.” He chuckles. “But–”

You hold his shaft again, and gently feed one of his balls into your mouth.”

“Ah, Christ,” he mutters. You swirl your tongue around it and suck. “Ohhhh." You give his other nut the same attention, and he must have forgotten whatever he was gonna say. Then you cradle his balls and return your mouth to his swollen tip, now leaking precum. You kiss the salty bead into your mouth and moan at the taste. His stomach is rising and falling with heavy breaths as you swirl your tongue around. Then you suck him back into your mouth.

You bob your head and suck and let your saliva slide all around his gorgeous cock. He's so hard and thick in your mouth. You let it rest heavily on your tongue for a moment, appreciating it's heft. You inhale his musk and it makes you throb. As you begin to suck again. You finger the dark blonde curls at the base of his shaft. You suck as much of his shaft as you can into your mouth and his tip nudges the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “Gonna cum.” His hips begin to lift gently pushing his tip against your throat. You look up and make eye contact with him and his balls tighten, his cock spasms. “Ohhh,” he sighs and begins to pulse warm and salty into your throat. You let a couple of inches out to get some on your tongue and suck ever so gently. It's quite a load and didn't take long, it must have been a while. “God damn,” he pants as he finishes coming, and you swallow, careful not to waste any. When he's empty, you let him out of your mouth.

For a moment he's speechless. He runs his hand through his hair, then says “Good, that was. . . good.” He brushes your cheek with his thumb, gazing at you in an affectionate haze.

You give him a little smile, then get shy and mutter, “I should go.”

He quickly tucks himself back into his boxer briefs and does up his pants. “Hold on now, ya don't want me to. . .”

You shake your head no. “I should get outta here.”

“Well, that was, uh, that was somethin’.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You sure I can't do somethin’ for ya?”

“That was for me,” you reply.

He tongues the inside of one cheek in stunned silence. “Alright,” he mutters, seeming a little disappointed. He opens his backpack and rifles around. “Shit, I do got somethin'.” He takes out a paper sack. He tilts it to show you what's inside - jerky. You politely decline but can't help how hungry your face must look.

“C'mon, I made it myself,” he urges. He rolls up the sack and sticks it into your bag for you, and you put the cigarettes in his.

You stand up and he looks at you like he's losing something. He stands up and asks, “Can I, uh. Give ya a kiss or a hug or somethin’?” You give him a loose hug but his arms wrap tight around you. He cradles the back of your head again and looks in your eyes, but you look away.

“Bye,” you whisper with a little smile, then hurry off into the woods. You'd love to kiss him, you'd love to fuck him, but you know yourself, you'd never stop thinking about him. And meanwhile his friends are doing god knows what inside your house.

You go far enough to be out of view, then you take off your backpack, lean against a tree, and shove your hand down your pants. Dripping wet. “Carter,” you whisper to yourself as your fingers begin to move.

------

------

this is a possible scenario for this mention in the Carter jack off fic:

[littlerat2]

Premonitions

Chapter 1: Blood and Ash

WARNINGS: Blood, death, nightmares. I think that's it? But! As always, please lemme know if I should add any others :)

Summary: The start of something horrible.

AO3

Words: 507

Author's Note: Thank you so much to @logan-the-artist for beta reading this fic for me! This is quite short. For that I apologize, however the chapters to come should be longer! I will probably be quite slow updating this, but i promise I will update it eventually. If that ever changes, I will be sure to let y'all know! <3

“I warned you,” Virgil started, shaking his head and blinking back tears. He kneeled beside the bloodsoaked prince, taking his head in his lap. “I said loving me would get you killed.” He tried to bark out a bitter laugh, but it came out more like a sob.

Roman just offered a bloody, but genuine smile. “Wasn’t it worth it, though?” Though his eyelids drooped, and his chest heaved out ragged breaths, he looked like there was nowhere he’d rather be.

“Nothing is worth losing you,” Virgil whispered shakily. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at Roman’s perfect, bloody lips curled in such a sweet smile. He couldn’t watch his cloudy, green eyes drift over his figure. He couldn’t watch Roman die.

He broke down sobbing into Roman’s shoulder as he clutched him close to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry.” He pulled back to look at Roman’s face, and Roman took this as an opportunity to wipe his tears away with a shaky hand. His blood colored Virgil’s pale cheek crimson.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not! You-you’re gonna die!” He pressed his forehead to Roman’s. “I told you this was dangerous. I-I knew it was. But I let you get close anyway. God, I-... Roman, I-I’m so sorry,” he wept. His lungs burned, both with the panic of losing Roman, and the ash that quickly got swept up into his lungs. They sat alone in a burnt building. When did they get there? Virgil may have known at some point, but right now he didn’t remember. He didn’t care. All that mattered right now was the man rapidly dying in his arms.

“If I could go back,” Roman heaved. “I’d do everything the same.”

“You’re- you’re dying, Roman! It’s not-”

“I got to meet you,” Roman said with a grin. “I got to love you.” With shaking hands, he pulled Virgil’s body closer to his own. “I love you so much, Virgil. Tell Remus I love him. Patton and Logan too. You’ll be okay. All of you-”

“Stop it, Roman! Stop! You’re- you’re accepting it! You can’t- Just- hold on. I-I can-” Virgil choked on his words, the thick, ash-filled air filling his lungs with every breath.

“You can’t stay here. There’s nothing you can do,” Roman said softly. “Tell my stories. All of them. I don’t- I don’t care what you have to do, just… Get 'em out there.” He smiled, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I love you.”

Virgil watched as the light faded from Roman’s emerald eyes as he exhaled. Clutching the dead man to his chest, he wailed. All color and life draining from his world.

“I love you too,” he sobbed. “I loved you so, so much, Roman. More than you’ll ever know.”

Sniffling, Virgil set the dead man’s head in his lap, brushing aside chestnut strands of hair out of his face. “I’m sorry.”

Then, he woke up. Sun shining on his face, and the still-breathing body of his boyfriend beside him.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic, please send an ask! :3

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Bateman Begins Part 40

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Notes: Slightly shorter chapter this time around, soz 🦇🖤 Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader Rating: M Warnings: None, tbh

"Do you miss him?"

It's a loaded question, and asked without any teasing.

You avoid Barry's eyes, reaching out and nabbing a few fries from his plate. You practically stuff them into your mouth to keep from answering.

He tips his head to the side, giving you a knowing look. You take your drink up next, taking a deep sip and swallowing thickly before offering, "Did I mention it's nice to see you?"

Barry scoffs a laugh, brows raising as he breathes, "Wow!"

"Shut up," You mutter, sliding down in your seat.

The diner is busier than you've seen it, and busier than you expected it to be. Then again, with Christmas closing in in Metropolis, maybe people have come to visit family, or are there to spend their vacation.

The diner is one of your absolute favorite places that you've frequented in the year and a half that you've lived in Metropolis.

The booths are comfy, they don't make farting noises when you shuffle in and out of them, the food is fricking delicious, and not pricey.

But, in the time that you've been in Metropolis, you haven't been able to banish Nathan from your mind.

Oh, you've tried.

You have spent nights wide awake, trying to forget the way Nathan teased you.

The way he held you, and kissed you.

On the worst nights, you're jolted awake by the dizzying nightmares of that night in the Narrows, what you'd been certain were Nathan's cries for help before you'd been attacked on the roof.

But you've adjusted to being in Metropolis, and being alone.

"...How is he?" You ask lightly.

"Depends on who you ask," Barry shrugs. "Giselle's invited me to a couple of events, we've kinda made eye contact, but we haven't talked. Giselle said he's been doing a lot of press....And it seems to be taking it out of him."

Good.

It bubbles up in behind your lips, and you force it down with another sip of your drink.

"What even happened between you two?" Barry asks, folding his arms on the table.

You sigh softly, shaking your head a little.

"We just...We hit some roadblocks. There was some stuff we couldn't get past."

"Stuff like Vicki Vale?"

"No, not that—I mean yeah, that, but not just that. I think her being around made me realize that he and I just had a lot of differences, things that we just couldn't...Fix."

"You tell Nathan that?"

"...Not in so many words." You clear your throat, waving Barry off. "Anyway. That's passed, it's over, it's...Let's talk about something else! Is there anything that you wanna do over the next few days?"

"Hey, you're the transplant, you tell me."

You mimic him, abruptly stopping as the waitress comes by with the check. You reach for it, but Barry waves you off, warning, "Ah ah. Lemme get dinner since you're letting me crash at yours."

"And because it's dead-cheap?"

"And because it's dead-cheap," Barry grins, reaching for his wallet.

--

"So, apart from work, which you spend way too much time at, by the way," Barry adds, hip-checking you as you walk down the block toward your apartment, "How are you finding Metropolis?"

"Uh...Fine," You shrug. "It's like any other city, I guess, you know. Busy streets, tons of traffic, overpriced coffee. Nothing I can't handle."

"And, uh...The crime?"

"It could be worse. Trust me—I know worse." You're quiet for a moment, eyeing the pavement. "I've had a couple of visits."

"From Nathan?"

"Lex Luthor."

You glance toward Barry, then look away again quickly when you see his stunned expression.

"What did Lex Luthor want with you?"

"He was just being a dick, you know. Asking why I didn't come to work for him when I moved."

"Why didn't you?"

Because Nathan would've hated it.

"Because I would've hated it."

Barry leans against the door frame, watching as you fish into your pocket for your front door key.

"You been seeing anyone?" He prods. You frown, glancing toward him.

"What's that got to do with Lex Luthor?"

"Nothing. I'm just curious."

"...No," You shrug. "I've been busy."

Glancing up at Barry again, you find him with his brows raised, head tipped forward in disbelief.

"What?" You laugh.

"Nothing," He reaches out, turning the knob of the unlocked door. "Just trying to figure out why you're still loyal to the man that you left."

He leaves you on your doorstep, gob-smacked and shivering.

--

It stops you dead in your tracks on the way to work. You take a few steps back, squinting at the newspaper in the stand.

Maybe it seems scandalous to the average reader, but you know better, and it has to be a mistake.

Batman takes Prince of Gotham Hostage

How the hell could Nathan take himself hostage?

It's got to be a rumor, or a misprint, or—

Or something?

You pick the paper up, fishing into your pocket for cash and passing it over. You can't take your eyes off of the newspaper as you walk, nearly wandering into traffic a time or two, walking into no less than three streetlights.

You don't have the chance to really dig into it until you reach your office. You shrug your jacket and bag off before you plop into your office chair and finally flip to page two.

According to eyewitness reports, Bateman was last seen at a lavish party. He disappeared around 8:15 on Monday evening, claiming that he needed to speak with the party's coordinator. After nearly an hour without the host, and unable to find him in his cavernous mansion, attendants called 911. Police said that their investigation into the matter took a shocking turn when they caught sight of the vigilante known as Batman escaping through a side window. There have been no further signs of Bateman, and while the investigation is ongoing, police suspect the worst.

You lean back in your seat, lowering the paper as the wheels spin in your head.

Monday. Monday was nearly six days ago. How were you only just hearing about it?

You reach into your pocket, fumbling with your phone and drawing it out with shaking hands.

It has to be a stunt, right? Some kind of ruse?

Something must have gone wrong, or sideways.

Maybe Nathan had gotten a tip about some crime, and had thought he could just leave the party for a little while. Maybe he was caught coming back in the suit and had to hide.

Maybe he's just laying low.

He'll come back with some wild, funny story, something to shut the press up.

You open your contacts, scrolling through to Nathan's. You tap on it without hesitation, raising the phone to your ear.

His voice, you just need to hear his voice and you'll know that everything is okay—

"I'm sorry; the number you have reached is not in service, or temporarily disconnected."

You lower the phone, your heart pounding in your chest.

No. No, this can't be happening, this can't be right.

Something is very, very wrong.

--

"I just think this is a little rash," Barry warns, but he makes no move to stop you as you dart back and forth from your dresser to where your suitcase is open on your bed.

"I know what I'm doing, Barry."

"Do you? Quitting your job to go back to Gotham because Batman kidnapped Nathan?"

"It isn't—" You go quiet, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line and drawing a deep breath in through your nose. You trust Barry, but you can't tell him the truth, not like this. "I know this seems insane, but this just doesn't feel right."

"What do you think you're going to get by going back?" Barry asks. "You've got nowhere to stay, no job, no plan."

"I have a plan," You swear, "And that plan is to find Nathan."

"The cops can't even find Nathan."

"They don't know him like I do."

You kneel up on your bed, cramming your clothing into the suitcase as hard as you can. There's no way you're going to get it to shut—

You go still as Barry reaches out, taking up a bulky sweater and folding it properly before he reaches for the next item of clothing.

"Let me do this," He sighs resignedly, "Go check to see if your flight has anymore seats. I'm coming back with you."

Your heart soars, and you grin, rounding the bed and throwing your arms around Barry, pecking his cheek between your mutters of, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Alright, alright," He chuckles, waving you off, "Go."

You hurry into the living room, opening your laptop.

You frown as you hear what sounds like a rustling of wind, and glance toward your room.

"Barry? Did you open the window?"

"...A little!"

"Why?"

"Fresh air helps me pack!"

You shake your head, muttering, "Little weirdo," Before you take your laptop off of the counter, walking back toward your bedroom. "So there are a couple of seats available, but they're not to—..." You slow, brow furrowing as you spot your now neatly-packed suitcase. "—Gether...Uh. How the fuck did you do that?"

"I was in, uh...Speed-packing competitions when I was a kid?"

"Is that a thing?"

"...In Central City, yeah."

You eye him for a moment, his bright, smiling face and raised brows.

...Something doesn't feel right about that, either, but one thing at a time.

"O...Kay. Anyway, as I was saying, there are a few seats available but none together."

"That's fine, book 'em," Barry shrugs. "Whatever gets us back fastest."

"Done and done."

Tag list: Tag list: @blueeyesatnight ; @revolution-starter ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @foxilayde @danniburgh ;  @carbonated-beverage ; @brandyllyn ; @missredherring ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @ew-erin ; @recklessworry ; @xocalliexo ; @youngkenobilove ; @chattychell ; @lorecraft  ; @thembosapphicclown ; @emotionalsupportbatfamily ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink

[aylacavebear]

Had A Nifty Thing Come to Me

I had a new fanfic come to me a couple days ago and I was wondering if any of you might find it interesting to read. It will be a series, and I have no idea how many chapters it will have as it is still in its beginning phase. I am also not quite sure where the story will go.

The Traveler

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

A/N: So, that's the general idea of it. Lemme know what you think and if you'd be interested. "You" will find your way to the Winchesters dimension, although you'll have to go through some stuff first, of course. I'd love to get you all involved, if you're up for it. Leave a comment with a dimension description and a scenario you'd like to see "you" go through. You can give as much or as little detail as you'd like. I love hearing from all my readers. It encourages me to write more. I am still working on Stockroom Antics and will eventually make it back to Dimensional Shift (that one needs so much editing). If you'd like to be tagged, let me know, and I'll make sure you're tagged on the masterlist for the series as well as each chapter. I'd also love to add whoever's suggestion it is for a particular chapter. If you'd rather I didn't, let me know, and I'll keep your name out of the post for that chapter.

Please don't steal my work. Thank you.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

This blog is NSFW, strictly +18yrs. I dive headfirst into trauma and gore and angst, so please consider this carefully and pay attention to warnings before reading any of my works.

Thus far, I write for Star Wars pretty exclusively, particularly The Bad Batch. I'm only just beginning to actually write things with the intent of sharing them, but requests and comments are always welcome, and all my love to rebloggers!

There are also still a few slots available in my 400 follower celebration!

If there is a trigger warning that you are concerned about but want to enjoy the story, please please please reach out! In many instances I can alter snip-its or tone things down, or at least highlight the sections in question so you can avoid them (I could do a vague summary for continuity).

Doc's Misadventures - Inspired by the prompts of Febuwhump2023, a female medic referred to as 'Doc' deals with the initial challenge of finding her place among the reluctant members of the Bad Batch. Wrought with unending struggles and both mental and physical disaster, a mutual tolerance slowly develops into acceptance and respect, and maybe something more...

OMG THERE BE FANART?! - I will absolutely add each and every bit of Doc fanart yall make to this little list, and I will love and treasure them and and you until I die!

Asks - Have a special request? Lemme know and I'll try to write you up something special to add to this lovely collection (a collection of 1 so far, but that will hopefully grow) - pspsps: my clone adoration is not limited to tbb! I'm happy to write with the others, too!

400 Follower Celebration Asks - Your OCs with various clones in various situations!

Spicy Stuff - 18+ nsfw independent fics with the boys from The Bad Batch. Minors: DNI. Everyone else: enjoy.

My Shame - WIPs that I just couldn't find the gumption to finish...

My Bingo Card - This is really for my personal reference, but can still be used to inspire Asks/Requests!

Unhinged Asks! - Collection of random asks that I've answered, both spicy and not

Prompt Lists - Choose a prompt, some characters, and whatever details yuh like, and slap that all in an Ask. We'll see what happens

I Ranted and Don't Know Where Else to Stash It - Might add more rants/ random headcanons later, maybe? This one's about the reoccurring theme of characters not allowing themselves to admit their mistakes so they double down instead

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