#maybe I should write a third part and put them both in stockings at the same time

[areyoudoingthis]

I really love where this fic ended up going. I love it when ed and stede decide to live in my head and I can write about it

[sitp-recs]

hi :) i simply adore your blog and your fic recs are so spot on, you’ve made me fall back in love with drarry and hp. I rly love reading a fic before I go to sleep but I end up picking a 70k word one and end up staying up much longer than I wanted to so could you possibly recommend me any fics max 15k words, with a happy ending pls i need the cuteness to help me sleep 🥰 Thanku so so much xx

Hi anon! Thanks so much, I’m thrilled to know I had a small part in making you fall back in love with Drarry, that’s amazing! And what a mood lol I used to pick long fics before bed too, it’s a mighty trap 😂 I’ve read many short fics in the last year so I decided to go for these delightful and not-as-popular shorts, with excellent build up and happy endings. Perfect bedtime reads in my opinion! I got a bit too excited with this list so I’ll call it 31 Bedtime Reads! One for each day of the month ;) enjoy!

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (2021, M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

oxygen by @maesterchill (2020, T, 4k)

Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (2017, E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

Harmony (Left-Handed Melody Remix) by mindabbles (2010, M, 5.8k)

He is the last person Draco was expecting, but then again, this is not a place Draco ever expected to be.

Vintage by momatu (2017, T, 7k)

Of all of the vineyards, in all of the regions, in all of France, Draco's blasted editor sends him to Potter's...

Our Ordinary Days by Lomonaaeren (2012, M, 8k)

Two men, both fathers of sons, meet in a bookshop. And the rest is the kind of history that doesn't make history.

Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (2015, M, 8.4k)

Harry Potter apparently wants to talk to Draco about something, but odd events keep getting in the way of that conversation – and bringing them closer together.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (2010, E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

Blind Date by JosephineStone (2016, T, 8.6k)

Draco’s been working with Harry for years when another one of his relationships goes stale. He has to be married within a year, and though the WizNet has burned him in the past, Draco finds a new possibility in man as desperate to marry as he is.

Stories in E Minor by @huldrejenta (2014, E, 8.7k)

Draco has found his place in the Muggle world. He's got his music, he's got his neighbours and he is content. Until a certain someone from the past enters his life again.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 8.8k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (2018, M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

The Interest Here by disapparater (2015, T, 9k)

Draco has his own morning show on the wireless, which he loves; an ambitious assistant, whom he needs; and days in The Tea Shop, where he relaxes. He also has a new caller on the show, whom he finds bloody annoying.

Tidings of Comfort series by @blamebrampton (2012, G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (2020, E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart by orphan_account (2015, NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too.

Adventures in Truth and Texting by @fluxweeed (2020, E, 11k)

Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing.

fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (2015, NR, 11k)

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (2011, E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

Cold Like Fire by QueenofThyme (2012, M, 12k)

Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was.

What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (2018, E, 12k)

Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (2018, E, 12.6k)

Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

The Year of Non-Magical Thinking by whiskyandwildflowers (2018, E, 13k)

“I don't know what I'm going to do, Potter. I'll think of something. So will you. But this is my journey to self-actualization," Draco managed to smirk. "You can fuck off and get your own."

Evolution by @potteresque-ire Pie (2013, M, 13k)

Draco Malfoy was condemned to live a Muggle’s life for his three-year probation. His wand was locked away, and he was forbidden to set foot in Wizarding Britain until Hermione Granger secured a job for him in the Aurors’ stock room.

Plan Alphabet by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2019, T, 14k)

After realizing that his feelings for Harry were unfortunately real, Draco embarks on a foolproof—yes, Longbottom, foolproof—plan to woo Potter.

Countdown by dysonrules (2013, M, 14k)

When the Wizarding world is plagued by random outbreaks of Dark Magic, the Ministry assigns Curse-Breakers to assist Auror teams on their missions.

All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (2015, G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (2020, T, 15k)

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (2014, E, 15k)

Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by @punk-rock-yuppie (2019, T, 16k)

Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.

[bumbleklee]

just read your unplanned pregnancy hcs and first of wow second could you maybe write a continuation to them like maybe during the pregnancy or once the baby (or babies they could have twins) are born. Albedo's had me appdiisodhs like i need answers and i need some closure lmao

sorry this has taken so long anon, been a crazy couple of weeks lol. part 2 to this

diluc's is kinda short bc his ended on a happy note (o´∀`o)

before reading: reader is written as afab and goes by they/them pronouns but feel free to change it to whatever you want in your head, pregnancy, babies

diluc

he adjusted the best he could when you decided to keep the baby

neither of you were expecting a child anytime soon but like you said before, maybe it was a sign

and with diluc's status in mondstadt, no one even batted an eye wrong in his direction

in fact, you were showered daily with gifts or food from the townspeople of mondstadt (there was a rumor that some thought you were bearing an heir to the invisible throne of mondstadt)

in the rare occasion someone said something negative about the pregnancy, usually someone drunk at the tavern, diluc was quick to shut them down

After you gave birth to your babies (yes, you had twins), you thought the overwhelming support from the people of Mondstadt would stop. Instead, it only increased.

When you and Diluc entered the city, each holding a baby, you were always crowded right away. Elderly woman would knit your babies clothes and the young teenagers offered babysitting services. It should have been overwhelming but since your pregnancy was unexpected (having twins was even more unexpected) the extra help was greatly appreciated.

Woodworkers built you cribs for free and shop owners happily donated extra stock for your children.

After a long day in Mondstadt, that was supposed to be a quick trip, Diluc collapsed on the couch. He had both babies in his arms, cuddling them to this chest, while you carried multiple bags full of goods.

"People are so generous," You huffed out, putting the bags down and falling back next to Diluc, "Almost too generous."

He laughed tiredly and readjusted himself so you could snuggle into his side. "It's better than them being hateful, right?"

You nodded in agreement, "Much better."

zhongli

he was right about no one crossing him during your pregnancy

when you went for walks around liyue around, people turned their heads and paid no attention to you

to zhongli, that was delightful - no one cared

to you, it was uncomfortable

you had mortal friends in liyue who had gotten pregnant after marriage and they were praised from strangers on the streets and given free food or wisdom from elders

but not you

You were almost to term when Zhongli wanted to take you out to dinner at the Liyue Pavilion. Childe had given him a hefty check as a Christmas gift and Zhongli wanted to spend it on you and your unborn baby.

The restaurant was packed for a weeknight and Zhongli left for a moment to use the restroom. You sat at the table, absentmindedly rubbing your belly and shoveling noodles into your mouth.

"Isn't that the town whore?"

The words made you freeze. You heard the voices behind you and refrained from spinning around and glaring at the young women.

"It is! I heard this is the third time she's gotten knocked up and her boyfriend wouldn't let her kill it this time!"

"Boyfriend? She's not even married? I would be so ashamed to have her as my daughter - her poor family."

You stopped eating then. The women giggled and their voices faltered away. Your hand stopped rubbing your belly and laid there, your other hand clenching your chopsticks.

You didn't even realize you were crying until Zhongli came back to the table and alerted you.

"Oh, um, hormones," You lied, dropping your chopsticks to roughly push away your tears. Your sniffled and looked up, dabbing at the corners of your eyes to try and stop the tears. "I'm really not hungry anymore. I'll meet you outside, okay?"

You struggled to stand up and once you did, you waddled outside of the restaurant. You tried to pull your cardigan over your belly but since you were so far along, there was no way to hide it. It felt like the world was caving in on you. People could be so cruel.

Suddenly, you felt two arms wrap around you, pulling you into warmth. You smelled Zhongli's scent and clutched onto his shirt, letting even more tears fall.

"A worker told me what happened after you rushed out," He whispered into your ear, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" You sniffled.

"I wasn't there to protect you from them."

You looked up at Zhongli and he wiped away your tears. "Can we go on a vacation?"

When you said vacation, you didn't mean a week away to the beach. Honestly, you didn't feel safe in Liyue and you certainly didn't want to raise a baby in a city this strict.

"Of course we can," Zhongli said, immediately knowing what you meant, "Have you even been to Mondstadt?"

albedo

the minute you returned home on that eventful day, albedo began packing your bags

he knew what the knights were capable of and frankly, he didn't fully trust them right now

you were on the road by night and within two weeks (horses and carriages did wonders to help you), you had safely arrived in fontaine

you stayed in the country for your entire pregnancy and when your son turned a year old, the three of you started your journey back to mondstadt

When you stepped inside the gates of Mondstadt, you swore you could hear every hushed whisper rush into your head. Albedo stood firmly by your side, his hand on the small of your back as he urged you to continue walking towards the headquarters.

Your son wiggled in your arms but you didn't put him down. Until you knew exactly what was going to happen with the Knights, you weren't going to let your son out of your sight.

Fortunately, both Kaeya and Jean were doing paperwork in her office when Albedo knocked. He walked in first and they jumped up, extremely concerned with his absence.

You hesitantly walked in after Albedo and your coworkers stared for a moment.

"Wow," Kaeya said, "You did have the baby."

"We did," You confirm.

There's an awkward silence. No one knows what to say since the last encounter with each other ended so horribly. Jean is the one to finally speak up, "I think we owe you two an apology."

Kaeya nods in agreement. "After you two left, we realized we may have been too harsh on you both. We are getting to that age, after all."

Albedo glances at you from behind his shoulder and you smile softly to him. He turns back to Kaeya and Jean, "We'd like our positions back in the Knights of Favonius."

"You never lost them," Kaeya cheekily says. Albedo nods his head again, not wanting to say the wrong thing. You step forward and rub your son's back, getting his attention. You introduce him and Kaeya bends down towards the baby, "Why, hello there."

Your boyfriend cautiously watches from a distance as his friend dotes on his son. Eventually, Jean comes over to meet the child too.

If you thought about the situation hard enough, you still got upset. But seeing Kaeya and Jean love on your son instead of exiling him made you feel a lot better. Of course, you wished it didn't go down the way it did but the past was the past.

And as Albedo reached out to squeeze your free hand, you knew he felt the same way.

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Babymoon (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Summary: Harry and Y/N go on their babymoon.

Warnings: pregnancy, smut, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hello! I wrote this in order to cross off a few requests. I promised Harry and Y/N would have a baby of their own, plus I get asks all of the time to write pregnancy sex - specifically awkward, giggly pregnancy sex. I also got one about Harry getting a love boner, so here is my attempt at shoving all of that down your throat at once. Try not to choke :-)  I also just reallllllly love Harry, Y/N, and Tallulah, so I wanted to give them some more love. Also made this one pornstache!Harry, so, there’s that. And one last thing...I know the verb tense is way off in this but I could not be arsed to edit it so plz don’t drag me. I hope everyone enjoys! Take care and TPWK.

“Oh my god,” Y/N huffed as she collapsed on the plush sofa in the living room of the cottage.

“It feels so fucking good out here by the water.”

“Breeze is nice, innit?” Harry replied as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to check out how well the place he’d rented for the week was stocked.

“Beats going t’ France at the end of June. Think I’m kinda gettin’ tired of Paris t’ be honest.”

“That is quite possibly the snobbiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Mr. Styles,” she said with a laugh as she began to flip through the tourist brochures that were left on the coffee table.

Not that they’d be partaking in any of it, no. Their plan was to hole up in the quaint, Scottish cottage that sat right on the coast of the North Sea for the whole week, not even planning on changing out of their pajamas.

It was their babymoon after all - a time of peace and tranquility before the arrival of their first child together.

Harry hummed and he made his way from the kitchen to where Y/N was seated on the couch. He stood behind her, knees knocking against the back of the sofa as he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her very large, very swollen belly.

“If I recall correctly, Mrs. Styles, I sat my injured arse in a stiff train seat to Edinburgh for five hours because someone was too scared to fly even though they were cleared to do so by three separate doctors.”

“’M not Mrs. Styles for another year and a half,” Y/N muttered under her breath, albeit not trying to keep Harry from hearing it in the slightest.

Harry snickered into her neck, then playfully nipped her earlobe with his teeth as he whispered.

“Not my fault yeh got knocked up and we had t’ push the wedding.”

“It is very much your fault, Harry,” Y/N swatted at his face, fingers first brushing his jawline that was covered in a rough stubble and then just barely tracing the full-blown mustache that sat like a caterpillar above his bright pink top lip.

Harry smirked down at her, nostrils flaring wide and lips disappearing inside of his mouth.

“How’s your rib?” Y/N asked suddenly.

“Good. Why?” Harry’s brows quickly furrowed together in confusion as to why she was asking about his injury.

“Might have to ride that later if you’ve got the lungs for it,” she tapped her index and middle fingers along her philtrum, right where Harry’s mustache sat on his own face.

Her blunt lewdness had Harry’s cock immediately growing stiff in his pants. It had been a while. His injury coupled with her being in the last trimester of her pregnancy had left them both feeling unsatisfied for the past several weeks. Maybe this babymoon would prove to be relaxing not only because Harry and Y/N get to spend a week without a rambunctious almost six-year-old screaming at all hours of the day, but for other reasons too.

“Think I’d actually drop dead from happiness if yeh sat on m’ face right now, lovie. But, before yeh get too comfortable with that idea, we need t’ head into town. Kitchen’s only got the necessities, and I doubt yeh want t’ eat homemade bread for a week.”

“I’m sure you’d love to eat homemade bread for a week,” Y/N jested, poking fun at Harry’s latest obsession with the carb-filled food.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” Harry toyed as he extended his arms out towards Y/N to use as leverage to help her hoist herself up from the couch.

When she regains her balance, she lifts herself up just slightly to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips that he happily accepts. Y/N hums and jokingly checks the imaginary watch that sits on her wrist.

“How much time do you have? That list is pretty long.”

//

The trip to one of the only supermarkets in the small part of Edinburgh that they were staying in had proved to be rather tiring, because Harry opted to use store-bought pasta instead of making his own - something he never does. Maybe it was his healing rib causing him to be short-winded, but he simply could not bring himself to hand-make the pasta they chose to have for dinner that night. He bitched about it all night, about how it wasn’t as chewy as it should be and how it would have tasted much better if he would have just made it himself, but it still didn’t deter him from helping himself to a second serving.

He claimed it was because while he did use pre-cooked pasta, he didn’t use sauce from a jar and made his own from fresh tomatoes and that was the appeal. Y/N just thinks Harry likes to complain and listen to himself talk.

After dinner, just as the sun was setting and Harry and Y/N were waiting for their pasta to digest before they dove into the box of fresh pastries from a bakery they found along the way, they decided to take a walk around the property. The renovated, stone cottage that was overgrown with vines and leaves sat along a short cliffside that overlooked the North Sea. It was a short walk down the cliff that brought them to the beach, where mist from the ocean whisped around their legs and ankles like a thin veil of smoke. While it was the middle of summer, Scotland’s persistent rain showers and their proximity to the water never made it too hot to bear.

“Lulah would love it out here. We’ll have to bring her when the baby’s older.”

“She realIy would,” Harry agreed as he wrapped his sweater further around his chest.

“Know yeh didn’t give birth t’ her, but I swear you two are just alike sometimes. Absolutely hates bein’ hot and gettin’ sweaty just like you.”

Y/N smiled softly and knowingly at Harry before reaching into the pocket of the patchwork sweater of Harry’s that she’d stolen for their stroll on the beach for her phone.

“I’m gonna call her.”

She picked up on the third ring, Y/N’s phone screen then illuminated with a live image of a gap-toothed Tallulah. Well, it’s Mitch’s phone, but she’d been waiting for this promised FaceTime call all day so of course she’s quick to answer.

“Mummy!”

Both Y/N’s and Harry’s heart swelled in their chest when they heard Tallulah speak. It had been several months since she’d decided to start referring to Y/N as her mother, but neither of them had grown used to it just yet. Y/N felt a sense of achievement in “earning” the title of being Tallulah’s mum after all of the years she’d spent with her, and Harry felt a sense of resolution. His family was a real family now, and not just a patchwork of awkward relationships and trust issues. Y/N was Tallulah’s mum and she was now seven months pregnant with their own child and they’d be married by the end of next year. He was actually there to see his child grow this time, they weren’t a secret kept from him out of spite. He’d be there for all of it, even the gross and bloody and goopy bits. And he’d never felt more complete.

“Hi, baby,” Y/N beamed from ear to ear.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re walking on the beach,” Y/N answered.

“Want to see it?”

The five-year-old (five and three-quarters if you asked Tallulah herself) nodded quickly, and Y/N then flipped the camera around to show her the view of the water. Y/N pointed out their cottage from where they stood in the sand, turning the camera to Harry briefly as he held up a peace sign so Tallulah could see that her dad was also on the beach with her. She told her all about the train ride there and how Harry almost slipped and broke his face when was carrying his and Y/N’s luggage into the cottage.

Harry listened to his two little loves talk back and forth with the biggest smile on his face as he absent-mindedly scoured the beach for rocks he could skip along the water. He noticed whenever Tallulah said something that Y/N thought was funny, she had to cup her bump with her hand and forearm to keep it from shaking her entire body. She told him she hated laughing now, because it made her look like Santa Claus, but Harry thought she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“That’s so pretty! Can we all go when the baby is here?” Tallulah asked, puckering into a pout as she begged.

“I think that’s a great idea, Lulah. We were just talking about that, weren’t we, Harry?”

Harry perked up from where he had been washing a sandy shell off in the ocean and suddenly appeared in view of the camera and took the phone from Y/N. 

“Hmm?” he asked as he studied Tallulah’s appearance.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mitch to watch his baby girl while he went away for a week with his other baby girl, it was that him and Sarah voluntarily asked to babysit Tallulah and that’s what made him so apprehensive to accept their offer. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about a sleepover at Uncle Mitch and Aunt Sarah’s every now and then, but to want to watch his daughter for an entire week certainly was. Harry felt like Mitch was plotting against him and that he’d come back to Tallulah with bright blue hair and bangs or she’d be sporting the world’s worst potty mouth when she came home, but so far that didn’t seem to be the case. 

She was wearing Harry’s “Dream Boat” shirt that she’d claimed as her own a few years back when Y/N had taught her to wear her father’s clothes when she missed him because the smell would remind her of him (he had to steal it back and sleep in it a few times every now and then to keep his scent on it), and her long, brown hair was damp and neatly braided into two plaits and hanging off her shoulders. That had to have been Sarah’s doing, because Harry knew Mitch could barely put his own hair into a ponytail without creating several lumps and redoing it eighteen times before it looked presentable - meaning he certainly wouldn’t have been able to make a five-year-old sit still long enough to braid her hair perfectly. 

She looked fine, though. Happy, healthy, certainly didn’t have blue hair or bangs and hadn’t said a single naughty thing since she’d been on the phone with Y/N.

“Lulah wants us to come back here after the baby’s born and take her with us,” Y/N beamed.

“I think we can work that out. Sounds quite lovely, actually,” Harry concurred.

“Yeh bein’ good for Mitch and Sarah?”

“Mhmm,” Tallulah nodded.

“We had pizza for dinner.”

“That sounds yummy,” Harry enthused, trying to let his daughter know he had his full attention.

“It was bery good,” she sighed.

There was a long pause before Tallulah blurted out suddenly in the most serious tone, “When are you gonna shave the rest of your mustache? Mitchy was making fun of you today.”

Harry was caught between a gasp and a laugh, which resulted in him choking on his own spit. Y/N turned on her heels in the sand to look at him with wide eyes. 

“You okay?” Y/N mouthed quietly to Harry, completely oblivious to everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds.

Harry nodded, wiping the involuntary tears from his eyes as he coughed himself back to life and regained his composure.

“What exactly did Uncle Mitch say about my mustache?” he prodded.

Tallulah shrugged, subconsciously wiggling her loose bottom tooth with her tongue.

“Don’t ‘member. Just that you look weird with it.”

“Well that’s not a very nice thing t’ say, is it?”

“Mummy said you look weird, too,” Tallulah spouted without hesitation.

Her comment left Y/N’s mouth agape, covering her smile with her palm as Harry’s raised eyebrows feigned offense in her direction.

“She did?” Harry asked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah,” Tallulah sighed as if it was exhausting having to tell your own father that his facial hair looks off-putting.

“I think you should shave it, too. It’s scratchy when you kiss me goodnight.”

All Harry could offer in return was stunned laughter while Y/N hid her face in Harry’s peck. Her bump pressed lightly into his and even though he was pretending to be mad at her, he wouldn’t dare think about pushing her off of him - not while she was this warm and cozy against his chest. 

“Well, if mummy really hates it I suppose I’ll get rid of it. But,” Harry pauses and pulls Y/N out from where she had burrowed her face into his sweater.

“I think I might know a trick that’ll convince her t’ let me keep i-”

“Enough!” Y/N exclaimed, clamping both of her hands around Harry’s mouth.

Harry chuckled against her palm and poked his tongue through his lips to lick her fingers, which sent her hands flying back down to her leggings so she could wipe them dry.

“I swear to god, Harry. You’re five years old,” she joked with a disgusted expression on her face, to which Tallulah had something to say to that. 

“No, I’m five years old!”

The two adults laughed in unison.

“Alright, Lulah. We’re gonna go inside now. ‘S gettin’ kinda cold out,” Harry said.

“We’ll call you tomorrow before bed. Alright, lovebug?” Y/N added.

“Okay,” Tallulah huffed.

“We love you, Lulah,” Harry spoke softly into the microphone.

“Love you, too...Daddy wait!”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Give the baby kisses for me. And no bikes!”

Harry wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to cry, so he settled on a closed-mouthed smile that was enough to convince Tallulah that he was unbothered by what she said.

“Kisses for the baby and no bikes. Got it,” he nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna go eat some sweets with Sarah!” the child yelled, suddenly energetic like she had temporarily forgotten that her and Sarah had baked cookies twenty minutes before Y/N called.

“Alright, but it’s almost bed time so not too m-!” was all Harry could answer to before his daughter ended the call and presumably raced to where ever Sarah was in their house. 

“‘S like she doesn’t even miss us,” Harry mumbled as he placed Y/N’s phone in his back pocket and began walking back up to the cottage with his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder. 

Y/N hummed, basking in the warmth that radiated from Harry’s chest as he held her.

“They’re just buttering her up. She’ll be crying to leave by the time we get back.”

“Just don’t really know why they were so keen on keepin’ her t’ be honest.”

Harry positioned himself one step behind her as they walked up the stone steps together, keeping one hand on the small of her back. Y/N peered over her shoulder at him, her tight lips curling up into a smirk as if to say she knew something he didn’t.

“What?” Harry asked.

Y/N shrugged, “Promised I wouldn’t tell.”

Harry clearly didn’t like that answer, because he moved his hand that was supporting her waist and quickly pinched her bum.

“Tell me,” he demanded, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed together in what could be considered a childish pout that mimicked Tallulah’s.

Y/N sucked her lips into her mouth, contemplating whether or not she should spill the beans on the news Sarah had shared with her a few weeks prior.

“They’re gonna start trying for a baby soon,” she whispered as if were a long-kept secret told in a room full of nosey people despite the two of them being alone on the otherwise desolate beach.

Harry’s ears perked up, a wide smile adorning his face from ear to ear.

“No fucking way,” he mumbled, and suddenly all of Mitch’s incessant hammering of baby questions he’d sent Harry’s way in the past few months suddenly making a lot of sense.

Harry thought he was trying to be a good friend and stay engaged in Y/N’s pregnancy, but now he understands the real reason behind his behavior.

Y/N nodded deviously as they make their way into the living room of the cottage.

“They’ve been asking everyone they know with kids to let them come over just to see if they can handle it. I mean, if you ask me, I think they’ll do great. Nothing wrong with trying it before buying it, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

“God, he’s gonna be such a good dad,” Harry was practically beaming for his closest friend.

“I know,” Y/N agreed, walking over to Harry to hold both sides of his head in her hands as if he was a disobedient puppy being disciplined.

Her bump prevented her from getting too close to Harry’s chest, the roundest part of her belly nudging Harry’s tummy.

“They’re both very excited. Which is why, when he finally decides to tell you, you have to act surprised. Act like he told you you just won the lottery or something. Alright?”

Harry sarcastically changed his facial expression to mock bewilderment. His eyebrows rose well off into his forehead and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he gasped.

“How’s that? Think he’ll buy it?”

Y/N jokingly jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Smartass. I’m going to take a shower. I’m sticky and I smell like the ocean.”

“Guess I gotta keep workin’ on it, then.”

When he’s done cleaning up what was left of their dinner, he heads to the master bedroom with the intention of washing up in the shower after Y/N. He’s messing around with the A/C unit on the window to make sure it’s not set to a temperature that will smother them in their sleep and unpacking their luggage into the wooden dresser, where an antique turntable rests.

Stacked long the side of the record player, there was a handful of old vinyl, most of which Harry either recognized or new very well. He was actually shocked to find a Shuggie Otis album in the collection, to which he quickly slipped the record out of the worn sleeve and set the needle to the edge and waited for the soft sound to fill the room while he worked. 

“That thing works?” Y/N’s voice broke up the old 70s tune as she exited the bathroom with her hair tied up with one of Harry’s scrunchies that she stole out of his toiletry bag, wrapped in only a towel that barely fit around her form.

“I know,” Harry agreed, “Needs a new needle but other than that ‘s in pretty good shape.”

“Leave it to you to find a rental with 70s records in the bedroom,” there was a lighthearted tone in her voice as Y/N poked fun at him.

She padded over to her luggage in the corner of the room for a change of clothes, only to realize Harry had unpacked it all for them. As she’s rummaging through the drawers trying to figure out where Harry had put what, she lets her towel drop to the floor freely.

Harry doesn’t know how must time has passed, but he knows he’s staring. He’s staring at the water droplets that drip from the stray hairs on the nape of her neck and run down her bare back. He’s staring at the swell of her stomach where their baby lies, at the faded, almost-shiny stretch marks on the sides and the newer, darker ones on the underside that had only recently broken through. He’s staring at the bracelet on her wrist, the one that’s braided pink and blue with three beads on it - one ‘H’, one ‘T’ and one heart. Tallulah made it for her at school one day and told her the heart was for the baby and also because she loved her. It was hanging on by its last few threads, threatening to snap as each day passed, but she refused to take it off.

All he does know is that he loves her so much that he thinks none of this is real and that he’ll wake up one day and be in his early twenties again with no direction in life and the insidious feeling that he’ll die alone without ever finding his “person.” It’s when Y/N called out to him and snapped him out of his thoughts that he’s realized his underwear are suddenly feeling incredibly tight.

“Har,” Y/N beckoned him away from whatever had been occupying his brain.

“Hmm?” 

He resituated himself on the bed and crossed his legs in an attempt to hide himself from her.

“I said the hot water in there’s kinda shit, so you’ll probably want to wait a little bit before you get in.”

“‘S alright,” Harry dismisses, “Come ‘ere.”

He draws her towards him with an outstretched hand, navigating her around the bedpost and over to the side where he had been sitting. With the gentlest of touches, he runs his fingers over her bare legs. The coolness of his rings don’t make well with her skin that was still extremely warm from her shower, causing hundreds of tiny goosebumps to erupt around her thighs. Harry raises her shirt, one of his that she stole when her own clothes became too uncomfortable, but even now she’s nearly stretching this one to its limit, and rests it on top of her bump.

She doesn’t question him, doesn’t chastise him. She lets him love on her, lets him press kisses to her skin just above her belly button (making sure to give an extra one from Tallulah per her request) and rest his cheek against her stomach while his other hand feels around on the other side in hopes to feel the baby move or kick or do something to let him know that they’re there. Lucky for Harry, baby knows when their dad is around and is quick to make themselves known, so he takes a second to savor these last few moment he’ll have with his newest bub before they’re earth-side in a little less than two months.

Y/N lets him be because she knows how important this is to Harry. She knows that he never got these moments with Tallulah and that it’s one of the things that plagued him during those nights where he feels lonely despite her being asleep right next to him. He never got to feel her kick in her mum’s tummy and he didn’t get to see her grow from the size of a pea to the size of a melon before she was welcomed by her parents and the rest of her family that had been waiting anxiously for her arrival. 

No, Tallulah was dropped on his doorstep like a wet kitten in the middle of the night. Shivering and crying and just needing someone to hold her and tell her that it was going to be alright because her mother had decided she’d be better off elsewhere. Of course, she was too small to remember, but Harry could never forget it.

So, it’s the least she can do. To let Harry love on her. Love on them.

Her eyes catch his once or twice and she can see the gears in his head turning. There’s something on his mind and he’s hesitant to tell her what it is. Y/N lifts his head by tilting his chin up, her index finger brushing over the healed scar on the underside of his jaw from a few months prior.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” she whispered.

Harry shakes his head, a grin on his lips.

“‘M just really, really happy right now. Happy tha’ I’m here w’ you.”

Y/N smiles back at him genuinely before pulling away from his grasp and gesturing to his lap.

“And I’m happy that I’m here with you. Seems like your little friend is really happy, too.”

A soft groan emits from Harry chest, having realized he’d uncrossed his legs at some point and his very prominent bulge had come into Y/N’s view.

“Sorry, lovie. Didn’t mean t’ make it like tha-”

“I’m just messing with you. You know,” she ponders, “I was half-way kidding when I asked about your lungs earlier. But... This will be the last time we’re kid-free for a while,” she taunted.

“Are yeh asking?” Harry jests and points his thumb towards the bathroom door, “‘Cos I was actually plannin’ on just having a wank in the shower.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N shrugs and moves his hands off of her waist as she pretends to walk towards the living room.

Before she can take two steps, Harry’s standing up and pulling her back into him for a kiss. It’s full of heat and passion and almost knocks Y/N off of her feet. He cradles her head in his large hands and moves to whisper in her ear.

“Really gonna let me fuck yeh?”

A quiet chuckle escapes her lips, to which she replies, “What else did you think we were gonna do all week?”

He’s unable to bite back his own laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound to ever grace Y/N’s ears.

“Then get on the bed and take yeh clothes off.”

They work quickly, as they’ve conditioned themselves to do over the years of squeezing in any time they can together before they’re interrupted. Y/N lies back on her elbows as she waits for Harry to undo his pants and her breath catches in her throat when his boxers hit the floor. 

His cock is hard, not fully, but the sight of the first few beads of glistening precum causes a shiver to run down her spine. She’s blown him a handful of times since he’s been in recovery, but she’s been far too pregnant and he’s been far too injured lately to engage in any kind of actual fun. It’s safe to say that they’re both more than ready. 

Harry scratches at his scalp, unsure of how to word his questions as he looks her body up and down.

“How do you...erm...how do you wanna-?”

“My stomach, please,” Y/N says with a laugh.

She quickly reaches for one of the pillows behind her and gets on all fours, wedging the object underneath her bump to keep some of the weight off of her back. Slowly, she arches her spine down towards the mattress, and the glimpse Harry catches of her pussy through the light of the setting sun is enough to send another jolt straight to his cock.

Harry wastes no time joining her on the bed, caressing her hips and moving back to massage the plump skin of her ass. He leans down on top of her, flips her hair over to one side, and begins sucking on the sensitive skin between her neck and jaw.

“Gonna let me taste yeh first, right?” he mumbles into her skin.

Y/N hums in response, attempting to rock backwards in order to feel Harry’s cock rub against her backside. She hears Harry laugh, presumably because he’s caught on to her neediness, so it only pushes him further to be the tease he’s notorious for being.

He sponges wet kisses down her back, getting a rise out of every audible breath that leaves Y/N’s throat.

“Relax, baby,” Harry says when he feels her growing tenser as his kisses travel closer to where she needs him the most.

“Gonna get yeh there. Just gotta be patient.”

Harry presses one last kiss on the final notch of her spine before using one of his hands to spread her legs open just a little bit further. When he parts the globes of her ass, his mouth waters. Her pussy is shimmering with her arousal, perfect and on display just for him. 

He tests the waters by running the tip of his tongue from her clit up to her center and he hears a sigh of relief leave Y/N’s lungs at the contact. Next, he’s massaging her folds, exploring her and refamiliarizing himself with the way she tasted. Harry feels her relax into the mattress with each lap of his tongue against her, silently begging him for more. His tentativeness allows him to read her body language and he draws back momentarily to spread her lips apart with his middle and index finger.

The cool air against her core stuns Y/N, but is quickly drowned out with a moan when she feels Harry’s warm saliva drip from her ass down to her clit. His mouth is back on her before she can recover from the sensation, lapping her up and flicking at her clit with his tongue and driving her mad. He’s got his nose buried inside of her as he devours her in the way that he’s really been yearning to for months (he doesn’t count the late night or early morning quickies because he claims he never gets to spend as much time taking care of her as he really wants to). The scruff from his mustache is staunch against her soft folds, but Harry’s tongue is quick to soothe the burn and she loves it.

He smirks against her as she lets out a particularly loud moan when his facial hair brushes against her clit. What was that about shaving my mustache? he thinks to himself but does not dare say aloud.

When he senses that she needs even more, his fingers move from spreading her apart to pressing against her opening. Gathering her wetness on his digits, he slowly pumps them in and out of her. Y/N’s mewls and whimpers are like music to his ears and only spurs him on further. He ruts his hips against the comforter, anything to relieve the throbbing between his legs that is a result of how pliable she’s become for him. She’s soaking the rings on his fingers in the most picture-perfect way and Harry truly genuinely can’t get enough of it; and neither can she. Which is why he’s confused when one of her hands swings around her backside to stop Harry from working her open.

“Har-” she pants.

He withdrawals all contact immediately and peaks his head around to look at her face.

“Yeh good?” he asks as she’s stands up on her knees and turns around to face him.

“‘M great. Wanna be on top now,” she says, her lips plump and swollen from biting down on them so harshly that she nearly drew blood.

“You sure? Yeh don’t want me t’ finish yeh first?”

His eyes dart from her lust-blown eyes to her round belly.

“Mhm. Now lay your pretty ass down before I change my mind.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice and he’s rolling over on his back, working his way to prop himself up against the headboard. His cock is red and leaking against his stomach, excruciatingly waiting to be buried inside of his girl. He wonders why she’s staring at him with an annoyed expression on her face, but then she speaks up.

“Do you see how pregnant I am? Gonna have to lay all the way down, shit head.”

He does as he’s told and he’s honestly scared that he’ll cum in five seconds if she doesn’t get on with it. 

“I swear to god, if you laugh at me,” she grunts as she straddles his waist, “I’ll cut it off.”

“‘M not gonna lau-”

It’s his turn to moan aloud when she grips onto his cock, running it across her folds to collect as much wetness as she can before she allows him to stretch her out. He’s focusing so much on not losing it right then and there that he doesn’t realize she’s stopped and is waiting for the go-ahead. Through his dark, thick lashes, he nods; as if she would have to ask.

Harry reaches for her hands as she lowers herself onto him, the two of them squeezing a bit too harshly when she reaches the last few inches. The burn consumes Y/N from the inside and out, but it’s never felt so right to either of them. 

She’s not moving just yet, but her cunt is pulsing around him and it feels almost as good as the real thing. They’re staring at each other, both with looks that relay more than words.

“Love you,” Harry’s face softens as he looks up at her.

“Love you, too,” Y/N smiles as she leans down as far as she can in search of a kiss.

He meets her in the middle and their lips find one another and mash together in harmony. The rocking of their hips reminds both of them what they’re actually doing, and causes both of them to gasp at the way Y/N pumped Harry half-way in and out of her. 

When she’s settled back down on the base of his cock, she begins slowly rutting herself back and forth. It takes her just a little bit longer than usual to work up a steady rhythm, but when she’s got it, boy does she got it and it feels so fucking good. The tip of Harry’s cock is pressing against the deepest parts of her and before she knows it, there’s a warm coil winding up in her tummy that bounds itself tighter and tighter inside of her.

She needs to go faster and she needs to go faster now, so she braces her hands on Harry’s chest as she continues to fuck herself on Harry’s cock. Harry lets out a sound that she can’t tell apart between a groan of pleasure and one of pain. His hands dart quickly from where they’d been gripping at her thighs to grip at her wrists.

“Can’t do tha’, lovie. Not the ribs.”

“Shit,” she laughs, subconsciously clenching down on his shaft in the process.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Harry reassures her as he repositions her hands on his shoulders so she can still have something to grab on to.

“Keep going.” 

Her bump is now cradled against Harry’s stomach and it allows her to find relief in the way that her clit is brushing against the trimmed nest of hair that lies around the base of his thick, throbbing cock. He’s twitching inside of her so much that she can feel it alongside her thrusts as they continue. They both won’t last much longer and they know it. 

“‘M getting close.”

“I know,” Harry pants beneath her.

She switches positions, now with her fingers digging so hard into the meat of Harry’s thighs that her knuckles are changing color. She’s able to lift her hips up and down a bit more from this angle, and it allows Harry’s cock to nudge against her sweet spot.

“Feels so good, H,” she whimpers so quietly that almost Harry couldn’t even hear it.

“‘S that it? Right there?” he mocks as he works at meeting her thrusts with his own.

The best he gets from Y/N is a nod as she focuses the best she can on getting herself there. She’s coating him with her juices with each pump and with one glance down at where they’re joined together nearly shoots Harry over the edge.

“Yeh gonna cum f’ me?” Harry asks as his thumb reaches under her to begin rubbing circles on her clit.

“Gonna give me a good one?”

His movements coupled with his words catalyze the tightness within her, threatening to snap at any moment. She’s definitely sweaty and tired of being on top, but she’s so close now that she wills away the pain in her lower back and thighs.

“Come on, bunny. Give it to me.”

He works with that he can and makes sure he’s slamming into her as deep as he can, speeding up the pace he’s making with her clit in the process. 

She cums with a strangled, “Fuck,” and a shrill cry of his name, and that’s all he needs to meet his end as well. The world is black and quiet for the two of them for just a brief moment, and then they’re both seeing all of the stars in the galaxy.

Her walls are coated with the warm ropes of his seed and spills out of her as she milks him, coaxing all she can out of both hers and Harry’s orgasms. Y/N can feel the last few twitches of Harry’s cock inside of her and her movements slow to a stop. 

His cum is splashed along her inner thighs and around Harry’s shaft, and they’re both struggling to catch their breath. Y/N feels sorry for him for a brief second when she sees him clutching onto the left side of his ribs, but then she remembers the situation that put him there in the first place and great incredible fuck she just gave him and so she decides not to dwell on it too much. 

Serves him right.

She collapses on the bed beside him, the two of them staring idly at the ceiling. It’s nearly dark now, the sun having set long ago and only their silhouettes are visible in the moonlight. Harry reaches over to pet her cheek and press a kiss into her hair as their breathing slowly but surely evens out and they come to.

They’re both too tired and fucked out to have a lucid conversation, so they’ll save that for tomorrow. No. Right now was for cuddles and falling asleep to the sounds of each other’s soft breaths and the peace of mind knowing that they can do this every single night for the rest of their lives if they wanted to because they’re getting married and they have a family together and they’re so in love with each other that nothing else matters.

When Y/N finally manages to muster up the energy to lift herself from the mattress and waddle to the bathroom, Harry breaks the silence.

“Hey,” his voice is calm and collected and there’s a smirk on his face.

“Hmm?” she answers as she cranes her neck and braces herself on the door frame of the master bathroom.

Her other hand is caressing her bump, a tick that she’d picked up over the months whenever she wasn’t doing anything important.

“Sit on m’ face in the morning?”

There’s that laugh again. The one that Harry loves and swears came straight from the angels above.

“With pleasure,” she winks as the door closes behind her.

[me1ancho1y-b1iss]

Her Robin and His Little Ladybug Ch. 2

 Ao3                  Chapter 1          Chapter 2 

As soon as Marinette spoke it set off absolute chaos, everyone started talking at once, asking questions and demanding answers from the small girl. Eventually Bruce, now as Batman, spoke up. 

“ENOUGH.”  Bruce demanded of everyone in the room. 

Silence was all that remained where if a pin was dropped it could be heard. Both parties, Marinette and the bats stared at each other, until Bruce finally spoke again. 

“Who are you?” he asked Marinette. 

“I believe I asked a question first” Marinette smarted back. Jason snorted as Damian glared at her. 

“Answer our questions harlot.” Damian spoke as he glared at her. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” 

Dick or rather Nightwing now, spoke next. “Come on baby bird, be nice, we don't know her and she doesn’t look like she knows us.” 

“That’s exactly the point Grayson! We don’t know her, or how she appeared in the cave!” Damian grimaced as he glanced back at Dick. 

“Codenames, baby bird.” Dick muttered 

Hi! I’m Nightwing! OMG, you're so cute and tiny! You're in the batcave, this is Robin, that's Red Hood, over there is Red Robin, standing there with the death glare is Batman, and finally sitting at the batcomputer in the wheelchair is Oracle!”  

“Uhh… Hi.” Marinette waved. Dick visibly cooed at her while the rest of the bats just stood there. 

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m from Paris, France.” She said as if that would answer all their  questions. 

Realization spread on Bruce's face as he realized what happened. He realized that this must be the work of the Akumas the league was investigating. 

“You said you’re from Paris, correct? Batman asked Marinette. At her nod he continued. “So this must be the work of an Akuma” 

Marinette nodded. “The last thing I heard before I was transported here was a loud voice yelling, that people should treasure their relationships and that people should be able to have soulmates… or something like that, I don't really know, I wasn’t really paying attention as I was suddenly transported here with no warning.” she muttered the last part under breath but the bats still heard her. 

After around five seconds of total silence, Jason started cackling loudly. “You, tiny little pixie is apparently Demon Spawn’s soulmate. Yeah, I doubt that…” Jason spoke, and started laughing again. 

After Jason said that, all of the rest of the bats realized what she said and started snickering, except for Bruce and Damian, who just stood in front of Marinette with his mouth wide open gaping at her. 

Dick asked a question next. “Wait, what’s an Akuma, and if it's powerful enough to actually locate someone’s soulmate and send them here, Why doesn’t the league know about this? Dick asked, looking back at Bruce. 

“The league is aware of the situation. It’s on a need to know basis, and only certain members are aware. Wonder Women, Superman, Aqua Man and myself are the ones aware as the situation is extremely delicate and dangerous. 

Paris has their own heros, that have been handling the situation extremely well and there has been no need to interfere. Wonder Woman has gone out and has spoken to the heroes. They are aware that if they need any help that can contact the justice league and we will send out a member to help aid them.” 

When Bruce was done speaking, the rest of the bats were sort of shocked they weren’t aware of anything happening Paris this year or any year at all. 

Barbara immediately put it into the Batcomputer and pulled up one of Marinette’s old fights. As Marinette watched the fight with the rest of the bat’s, she cringed. She remembered the fight, perhaps she remembered it too well. It was her third battle with Evillustrator. Nathaniel managed to remember that he could draw whatever he wanted. 

He turned all of Paris into a war zone. He managed to draw himself an all powerful army with a stock supply of weapons. The battle lasted almost a full day and was one of the most lethal with over 1 million dead. The second deadliest behind Syren. 

As the video ended all the people in the room turned to marinette with a shocked look on their faces. 

Dick was the first to speak. “You deal with this all the time?” he whispered in a scared tone 

“Usually they’re not that bad. That was the second deadliest attack Paris ever had, the first being Syren. All of the effects of the damage is reversed by the ‘miraculous ladybug,’ Ladybug, the main hero announces that after she broke the object where the akuma was hidden. As soon as she throws up her ‘lucky charm’ and says that phrase all damage from the attack gets reversed.” 

“What a Lucky charm? You said it helps clear all the damage, so what does it do?” Tim spoke next. 

Marinette nodded as she said, “ The Lucky Charm is something that Ladybug calls on during the battle. It’s usually just a seemingly random object, but as soon as she calls on it the battle usually doesn’t last any longer than three minutes.” 

“What are the other heroes' powers?” Tim asked again. 

“Chat Noir has the power of destruction, just as ladybug has the power of creation. All Chat Noir has to do is simply say ‘cataclysm’ and he's able to destroy anything he touches.” 

Again all the bats, except for Batman himself, started at Marinette, with wide eyes. 

“How old are the heroes’ because to me they don’t look to be any older than the demon spawn’s age. Also how long has this been going on? Jason asked of Marinette, in a demanding tone. 

“All anyone can do is speculate the ages, due to the magic, but many say they have to be around 18 - 20 years old.” Marinette said in a rather confident voice

“And how long has this been happening?” Jason asked again in a tone that made Marinette take an unconscious step back. 

“A-about four years.” Marinette said, with her voice trembling a little bit. 

“So the heroes would have been about 13- 15 give or take when they first started given the assumptions are correct…?” 

At her nod, Jason started pacing back and forth yelling, “FUCKING HELL, what the fuck they’re kids, they were babies when they started and they have to deal with the saving the fucking world every fucking week. I admit I was young too when I started, but it was my own choice and I got FUCKING killed for it!” 

‘That’s why he has such a tainted soul, it absolutely reeks of destruction and creation magic, I’ll have to talk to Tikki later to see if we can get rid of it’ Marinette thought wisely. 

“B, why in the everloving hell did you let fucking kids fight in a goddamn war alone?!” Jason yelled at Bruce while still pacing the floor of the batcave. 

“Hood, they are only one able to fight in these battle, no matter what we do, we would not be able to fight, the best we do is investigate the villain. 

Hawkmoth, the super terrorist, is the one creating the akamus. We find him, we stop the akumas.”

“You mean we just sit here while these kids are out fighting and there’s absolutely nothing we can do?” Tim spoke up, finally finding the courage to speak. 

Batman simply shook his head.

A/N: ok, so like I have five chapters of this posted on ao3 if you want to read it there, (im taking a minute to post it on tumblr bc im lazy. ok) Also I swear I’m working on chapter 6, i'm just stuck on a particular scene and its taking a minute to figure out how I want to transition. on a side note this fic is honestly just something that my brain decided it would be a good idea to write at 2am so like don't expect too much.  (sorry for the rant)

Taglist: (people asked in the last chapter to add them, so if you want to be added just ask. I probably wont respond, maybe, but I will definitely add you) 

@alyssadeliv @yannowhatigiveup @sekhmet5

[posi-writes1]

You just make me happy - Oikawa x Reader

Will I ever not write Oikawa fluff? Maybe. Maybe not. The world may never know. But seriously. Yes. I am considering branching out to other characters. Maybe other fandoms. We will see where the future takes me.

Potential content warning: These is a mention of alcohol and a drunk/tipsy reader. Not the main focus, but is definitely mentioned so I have put the whole one shot under the cut.

Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: Around 1.2k

You are not drunk. Nope, nuh uh. Definitely not.

You are simply coming back from having a few drinks with friends and just needed to navigate your way to your apartment without waking up the adorable elderly couple next door. Not a problem at all. You may be a little tipsy, the bartender may have been a little generous with the pour, but you weren’t drunk. So being quiet should be no problem.

You stand at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor. Not. A. Problem. Glancing behind you at the elevator, you hope the sloppily written ‘out of order’ sign was a figment of your drunk--wait no--tipsy imagination. It wasn’t. You pout as you accept your fate and begin your silent ascent up the stairs.

You stumble a few steps from the end but make a smooth recovery as you grab onto the railing just in time to keep your face from meeting the edge of the steps. You haul yourself up to the landing and proudly stand back up, smiling to yourself.

Nailed it.

Now to make it down the hall and to the comfort of your apartment. The true easy part. You meander down the hall, rifling through your purse for your keys until you are standing in front of your door. Finally made it. You let out a small sigh of relief. Not that it was a concern in the first place. Never a doubt in your mind that you would make it back that evening totally unscathed.

Just as the key is about to enter the lock, it stops short as you remember that it is late. Very late. Which means your boyfriend is definitely sleeping because he definitely has practice in the morning.

No big deal though. You have made it this far being completely silent, just a little longer. You only have to make it as far as the couch. All of your focus is entirely on quietly getting the door unlocked. The softest of clicks lets you know that you have completed this task and you open the door just enough to allow your body entry as you slink into the entryway and slowly shut the door behind you. You glance around the apartment as you slide your shoes off and lay your purse down on the table. Your now stocking clad feet pad silently across the tile floor to the living room, making a beeline for your comfy couch so you could finally get some sleep.

You are so entirely focused on not making any noise that you don’t notice the figure of your boyfriend leaning against the doorway to the bedroom, watching your progress. Which means that you certainly didn’t see the soft smile on his face as he watches you run into the potted plant in the corner. You whip around with your hands out, ready to catch it from falling and he can’t hold back the low chuckle as you whisper out an apology.

“Did you seriously just apologize to the plant?”

Your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze.

“I don’t want to be rude.”

You shoot out your response immediately, insulted that he would insinuate that you would run into someone and not apologize.

“And her name is Hana…”

You mumble the last part under your breath as your fluff her leaves but if the questioning raise of Tooru’s eyebrow was anything to go by, he most certainly heard you.

“Right….” He draws the word out, not sure what else to say to that.

You continue the conversation on your own, steering the topic away from Hana.

“Should you be awake right now? What about practice in the morning?”

“Got pushed out a few more hours.” He pulls on your hand, steering you into the kitchen and away from your precious houseplant. You know what that means though. Practice starting a few hours later means a little more time with Tooru in the morning.

You let a smile take over your face as you look up at him. He looks a little stunned for a second before shaking it off and returning your smile brightly. You let him gently push you into one of the chairs around your dining room table. You rest your head on your crossed arms as you zone out watching your boyfriend gracefully move around the kitchen, collecting ingredients and a pan.

You let your eyes wander around the apartment , taking in the pictures scattered throughout the room. They detail the evolution of your relationship spanning multiple years, from your high school days to your time navigating a long distance relationship as Tooru went to pursue his dreams while you stayed behind to get your degree to now, the two of you finally reunited and living happily in Argentina.

Nostalgia hits you as you stare at one from our high school days, near the beginning of you and Tooru’s relationship. It was your first time meeting the other three third years. Not your first time ever, you did go to the same school after all and you happened to share a class with Hanamaki. No, it was your first time meeting them as Tooru’s girlfriend.

You never realized you could be so nervous about meeting people you had already met. Turns out you panicked for no reason. While there was a slight hesitancy towards you initially while they figured out your intentions, they ended up being some of your closest friends, your confidants, the three that joined forces with you to pick on your boyfriend when he turned on his dramatics.

“TADA!”

Tooru proudly sets a plate in front of you and effectively pulls you out of your reverie.

Your eyes start to water as they take in the sight in front of you. Tooru has presented you with the most beautiful grilled cheese sandwich you have ever had the pleasure to behold. It was your favorite after drink meal, made by your favorite person. You tear your eyes away from the glorious sandwich to look up at Tooru. His proud smile falls as he sees your tearful look.

“Wha--”

He is interrupted as you shoot up from your chair and throw your arms around him. He is able to steady the two of you before you both hit the ground but only just. Your hands come up to smoosh his cheeks between your palms. You are barely able to understand his mumbled request for you to explain what is happening.

You opt out of responding verbally and instead bring your lips to his cheek, then his nose, his other cheek, making sure to give his entire face an equal amount of love. Once you are satisfied with the number of kisses you have given, you sink into arms, allowing him to embrace you while you nuzzle against his chest.

“I just couldn’t help but think about how happy you make me. That’s all.”

It’s said like it is the simplest thing in the world. And for you, it is.

His dazzling smile is all you need to know that he feels the same way as he takes your hand and leads you to the dining room table for the second time that night. This time he lets you settle on his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder, as you eat the delicious meal that he has prepared for you.

[pynkhues]

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

[passivenovember]

And Everyday was Overcast.

Part One : Hammers and Nails

Billy needed someplace to go when the grave was desecrated.

When his eyes unglued themselves, peeling off eyelashes in their wake, when the earth was overturned, torn and left hanging like shreds of old fabric; Steve had been there. By some miracle he had been consumed like he always was, sat thinking by a plot that had grown yellow flowers to blanket Billy in his eternal sleep. And maybe it was those small visits sheltered between morning runs and eight hour shifts stocking the horror section that Billy had come back.

From the grave. From the brink.

The Earth started vibrating, spidery cracks turning volatile, and Steve was met with ocean blue. Red rimmed eyes locked on his face, hands reaching and gripping. Nails digging in as Steve wrapped Billy's grime covered shoulders in his own jacket. Rubbed the chilled skin of his arms, looked in his eyes, and took him home.

Someplace Billy could wash the day from his skin.

--

The blonde haired boy who had turned from human to creature and back again deserved something more than what he was left with. He deserved warm meals, and sunshine on his skin, and soft bed sheets that opened like a celestial sky when Billy felt like shelving the enormity of what he had discovered. What waited after death.

Steve wanted that for him.

Not happiness, not closure, exactly, but something close to it.

At the root of it all, Steve knew Billy should feel safe. Welcome and warm and comfortable, in the house that Steve’s father had built for his mother all those years ago when she was plump and round with child. Steve felt like his father that day as he carried the last box over the threshold and took in the rigid, tense line of Billy’s shoulders.

He let the moment rest. Let it breathe, as his father always instructed. “Do you think you could feel safe here, Billy?”

The air sat heavy. Cold and wet and warm, somehow, like the morning after a night of heavy rain. Billy sucked in a sharp breath and pivoted slowly, face reverent, as if standing barefoot in a cathedral among gods and heroes. Met with divinity.

Instead he got Steve.

Just Steve, trying not to stare at the lone curl hanging over Billy’s forehead when he offered a tight, controlled smile. “It’s fine.” Billy said, only.

Steve tore his eyes away. Focused on the second story banister to stop his gut from falling through the floor. ”Fine? As in, I would rather eat my own toenails than live here, fine or, like. It's okay, I don't mind it here, I might even like it someday, fine?"

Billy adjusted the strap across his shoulders. “It’s just what I expected it would be.”

Steve shook his head. “What’s that mean?”

"Relax, Harrington, it's." Billy turned again, eyebrows scrunched together. “Its. Pastel. And huge. Obscenely decorated—“

”My mom had it professionally done before they—“

”It was built for a happy family with lots of kids. Lots of love, but now it's. It feels. Lost.”

Billy had started saying things like that.

Heavy, saturated, impossible things that left Steve scrambling. Wishing for the intelligence to absorb the meaning rather than question it. Steve rested the box at the foot of the stairs and offered a smile to the second story. Runoff for the pools of blue that looked on.

"That's a lot of adjectives. I can get you a hotel, maybe. Or an apartment. I could cosign, I know they gave you a pretty penny and you could probably afford your own, but. I could. I would." Steve said harshly. "For you. I would."

"It's fine here. It's okay."

Steve felt like a science experiment. Egg boy with three heads and ten legs or something. Suckers on the tips of his thumbs, the way Billy studied him. Steve counted the freckles on Billy's nose--one, two, three, four--trying to stay afloat.

--

Dinner was made every night though Steve never saw it happen.

The cookbooks sat alphabetized over his mother's antique bar cart on that little periwinkle blue shelf. He'd come home, every night, at six on the dot, to a set table. The mixing bowls were always clean and put away, counters wiped and ingredients stored neatly on the shelves his pantry, but the wooden spoons spelled it out for Steve, still shifting from dark to light as they lay drying on the dish rack.

"You don't have to make dinner, you know." Steve took another bite of Salisbury steak, furious that it tasted so good. Like love soaking into his skin.

Billy shook his head. "I want to."

"I know, I'm saying it's okay if you decide not to, one day. Like if you get caught up reading. Or if you can get Max to drive you to the history museum, or if you--"

"It's the least I can do."

Steve hated that. He let his fork clatter to the table. "I'm not expecting repayment for this."

"I'm not a freeloader."

"And I'm not an asshole." Steve deadpanned, lifting a finger that sewed Billy's smug lips together. "Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"Whatever you were thinking, with that clever glint in your stupid blue eyes."

Billy cracked his knuckles, clearly fighting a smile. "Never thought you noticed the color of my eyes, Harrington."

"Yeah, sure." Steve stood, gathering the plates and forks and knives from the table, his own eyes counting primary threads. "Can see those things from space, Jesus." He finally looked up, at Billy's curiously pink face.

Pink lips, cheeks, nose.

Steve gripped ceramic. Swallowed against a swell of guilt. "You don't owe me anything, Billy. I like having you here. I want you here."

Billy gave a simple, controlled nod.

Steve got used to it.

--

The shack wasn't built until the doctor told Billy that he'd probably wouldn't remember all of what happened. The big things would stick out, neon greens and blues against the forest head, but Billy shouldn't be too hard on himself if the important things got thrown away.

And some of those jagged little pieces were there. The bad things. Anger and hatred, both for self and world, left hanging on the cliff of who he was now. Everything that had formed Billy Hargrove--the person he was, the person Steve had pretended not to notice--were packed away. Soft, silky emotion covering knives left dull and rusted in their drawer.

Billy remembered like flashes of lightening across the summer sky--sudden and then gone. Here and away. He remembered Hawkins high and Max who'd grown six inches in three years. Dustin who had been wearing that stupid shirt when the mall burned down.

And Steve.

Always Steve, sat next to him. A foot away at first and then holding his hand, later, when Owens said Billy should be kind to himself. Gentle.

He wasn't.

And he didn't come out of his room for three days after that, after the wall was placed in front of him. The crack under Billy's door always keeping Steve at bay. Trapped behind the starting line. He paced around on the carpet, lifting his fist and letting it fall again, never breaking up the silence.

Billy was crying.

Billy never cried, anymore, but he cried that night and Steve felt helpless. Pathetic and stupid and useless, locking himself in his father's study and trying to formulate a plan, just like Owens had told him to when the sun fell on a world without Billy Hargrove and then suddenly rose again, set anew.

Set crooked when Billy stormed from the hospital room, slamming doors that echoed like rolls of thunder in his wake.

Figure out a way to help him.

Sterile, eerie white walls stared back at him as Steve shrugged his shoulders on the third day, aluminum hospital chair groaning beneath his weight.

I'm not sure how to do that.

You don't have to do anything. Owens said. Just help him get the emotion out. Let him write, draw, sing, dance, whatever he needs to assist in telling us his story.

--

Potato casserole and red wine bore witness to Steve's leap of faith. Billy turned away from the novel he had tucked under his arm when Steve got home from work that day, eyes curious. "Spit it out, Harrington."

"I'm not sure what you--"

"You've been giving me the side eye since you got home." Billy turned the page in his book, still managing to read both it and the room as he urged, "Tell me what's wrong."

And nothing was wrong, and.

Everything was wrong. Steve leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Do you want to come with me to the art store tomorrow?"

Billy frowned. "I don't need anything from the art store."

"It's not always about what you need," Steve reasoned, patting his mouth with a napkin. "We could get stuff you want. That's all, just pretty things. Nice things. It could be a treat."

"Paper and scissors are considered a treat?" Billy cocked an eyebrow. "I do love touching shit, it's one of my favorite hobbies."

Steve scrubbed at his mouth, swallowing down against a big, fat, crooked smile dripping with affection. "C'mon, it'll be fun. We can get whatever you want; clay, oil pastels, acrylics--"

"I wanted to check out the library tomorrow."

"You go everyday, blue, you're a regular bookworm."

"So?" Billy demanded, taking another bite of casserole. "I like to read. Just 'cause you can't doesn't mean the rest of us have to hold back." He grinned, low and slow. "Don't let your jealousy turn you into a tyrannical landlord, pretty boy."

"God, you're the absolute worst."

Billy turned back to his novel. "The art store will just inspire me to paint nudies."

"So paint them." Steve challenged.

Bait. Hook and line.

"You gonna pose for me if I let you buy out the joint?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe once, if you look at the easels while we're there."

"No shit?" Billy leaned forward, biceps flexing in his cutoff as he stuck a polaroid of a smiling blonde woman between the pages of his novel. "The fuck is this about, Harrington?"

"I'm worried."

"That you'll take me to a crafts store and I'll put you out of house and home? Reasonable concern, I guess."

"About the diagnosis, dipshit. About you." Steve gulped down the rest of his wine. Made sure every last drop had seasoned his words before any were said aloud, where they might do damage. He let the glass rest on the table between his fingertips, stem rolling from pad to pad. He took a deep, steadying breath. "You haven't been the same since--"

"I got hijacked by a space demon or crawled out of my own grave?" Billy shrugged, picking at something in his teeth. "Be more specific."

Steve fiddled with the handle of his fork. Hand picked his words. Refined the meaning. "Yes, and. Both."

Billy didn't say anything for a while and the room finally settled. Falling fast asleep, thick with inertia and silence until the book was opened once more and Steve went back to digging through his casserole, picking at the spring onions.

Letting the moment breathe.

Until, finally. "I feel like I could crawl out of my own skin."

Steve tripped over himself to get those blue eyes on him once more. "That's understandable--"

"I feel fucking useless." Billy snapped, voice cracking in two, and. Suddenly Steve couldn't look at him. Couldn't bare to see his face. "I'm trying to replay what happened. Every second, I'm trying to figure out why. Why me."

Steve counted the primary threads in the table cloth. One, two, three. "You can't go on asking yourself questions like that."

"I can do what I--"

"It wasn't your fault, Billy. Any of it."

"I'm not talking about the Fourth of July, I'm talking about. Death. I'm talk about what comes before and what comes after and how they're the same." Billy turned the page in his novel furiously, eyebrows scrunched together. "I never thought they'd be the same. It's like I've started over."

Steve couldn't possibly understand, but.

He watched pools of blue scan the page. Took measured breaths, never pushing until Billy was ready to share more. Until he tossed the book on the counter and sighed, head buried in his hands. "I don't understand how I got here."

"Easy," Steve whispered. "That's easy. You were born from love--"

"My parents aren't in love anymore."

"But they were, once." Steve shook his head. "When you were made. They loved each other, and they loved you, and your life was full of love that never made sound but it was still there." Steve willed Billy to look at him. Willed the skies to turn blue again.

They didn't.

Billy sighed, low and slow. "Did love bring me here again?"

"I guess so."

"Who's love?" Billy demanded, leaning forward into the table and crushing his novel where it lay against light oak tabletops. "Who loved me enough to bring me back here? To wish for me."

And.

There were a lot of things Steve wanted to say. Lines he wanted to map out, directions that lead from A to B and back again, but it didn't seem useful. Didn't rest important, as Steve took the novel from its place on the table and smoothed worn pages, tucking the polaroid in its place. "I'm sorry things feel weird for you." He said softly.

Billy grabbed the book, staring down at his casserole. "'S not so bad, I guess."

And, for Steve, that wasn't good enough.

--

Billy worked mostly in charcoal. He painted nightmares, and doorways into the past, delicate, swirling lines telling a story that made Steve's heart ache to see. To hear, with every drag of material across fruited canvas'.

Steve asked him about it, once. Over dinner, with the lights turned low. "Why do you paint such horrible things?"

And Billy had smiled. Bright and true. "How's that?"

"Y'know. Black scabs and eyeballs melting out of skulls and sliding down the ridge of people's faces, and--"

"It's what I see." Billy replied, voice soft. Measured. "It's what follows me around."

So Billy spent every hour locked in his shed, curls tucked over a growing body of work. Fingers turned rotten with charcoal soot as he made sense of what happened.

Steve liked to watch him work.

Liked to see the tension ease more and more from the strong shoulders that travelled beside him up the stairs each night. Steve felt the dig of each pencil in the crevice between his ribs when Billy finished masterpiece after masterpiece.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Along the ridges of creation, therapy lay half buried in the sand. It was state mandated, that Billy go and learn how to deal with the things charcoal couldn't straighten out for him. Like the nightmares, and the migraines that kept him from eating dinner at the table when June gave way to July.

Steve worried. Constantly, fervently, but Billy refused to go, always wiping his hands on the powder green apron Steve got for him at the art store, and insisting, "This is a form of therapy." Billy gestured around the room. To the mountains of loose sketch papers and half finished canvases that lay strewn across every surface. "This is how I cope."

And it was.

And it happened the same way every time.

Things got bad for him and Billy would disappear into his shed. Steve would come home from the office to find that his mother's prized Thomas Kincaid collection had been replaced by Billy's work. It was haunting. Sick and twisted and so, so beautiful.

He found himself standing and staring at it for hours, eyes tracing over the swirling lines of purgatory.

It made Steve feel helpless, but.

Still, Billy refused to go. Still, he buried himself in his work. Still, he painted himself into a hole.

The path toward recovery was littered with charcoal drawings until it wasn't.

Until Steve came home one afternoon to find Billy talking with a little boy who had his throat cut open.

[faebriel]

ok ok I'm insane and couldn't pick one so have two (no need to answer both if you don't want to)

“You talk to him.” Not kindly, but he does.

“I’m used to him,” he shoots back. “I’m the only person who is.”

That makes Niki feel something, some uncomfortable tug in her chest. She mentally kicks herself. It’s not jealousy, she reminds herself, because despite the near-cliff jumping and the long nights without food and the nuclear fallout that has punctuated her last few months, being jealous of Tommy would be the least reasonable thing she’s allowed herself to be, maybe ever.

“You don’t believe me,” Tommy says flatly. “You never - eugh.” He cuts himself off with another ragged sigh, running a hand down his face. “Look, Niki, it’s - we were all together in Pogtopia, right? But I was there first. With him. And you didn’t see the start of it, it was horrible, and I’m glad no one else saw the beginning of it either but it was still just so shit and he kept saying all these terrible things about Tubbo and Fundy and you and,” he takes a shaky breath, “then, when I died, I saw him.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

Well, the voice in the back of her head whistles. If you were still wondering about all this afterlife bullshit, if you want to know where you’re going after your third life, here you go.

and

“You didn’t even - this isn’t about L’Manberg, Wilbur!” Niki shouts.

And then he stops, breathing hard, and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say.

“What else is there?” he asks.

Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut, her chest, her shoulders, chilled down to the bone. With slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes, sitting in her throat, threatening to spill over into a sob. She swallows - to keep her cool, to stay calm, to keep it together -

And then, something in her chest just snaps.

“You said you’d come back for me!” she cries, and her voice hitches on the lump of tears at the back of her throat and god, she sounds absolutely pathetic. Wilbur’s face softens immediately, which somehow just makes her feel even worse. “In Manberg. When Schlatt put me in prison, and you and Tommy were in Pogtopia, you said you’d break me out when it was safe. I waited for weeks , Wilbur. It was… it was horrible.”

“Niki…” a kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across his face, and he seems unsure which to settle on. “We got you out though, right? After the festival.”

“You looked for the button first,” she says quietly, and he stills.

Her sniffling sounds embarrassingly loud against the quiet background of night.

thank you sm!!! i’m gonna put these under the cut because they got a little long sorry (tw for discussion of suicidal ideation)

to preface: tommy is kind of the accidental but incredibly necessary invisible support beam for niki and wilbur’s making amends in bitter. niki cannot accept wilbur’s actions and apology without first acknowledging her own actions and making steps towards an apology, because otherwise it kind of falls flat? in that ending scene niki finally gets what wilbur is feeling and wilbur finally gets that someone else knows how he feels (it’s not perfect 100% yet, but…. that’ll get explored later)

onto the actual snippet! “tommy talks to wilbur - not kindly, but he does” was very important to me! tommy has stuck by wilbur ever since pogtopia, but the tragedy is that he is not equipped to deal with wilbur’s issues, and it shows. wilbur’s first stream after revival depicts this really clearly, where tommy tails wilbur around the whole time but insults him, is still stuck on calling him the villain, physically fights him at some point, etc. on one hand this isn’t healthy but on the other hand tommy is actually around, which is more than can be said for basically any other ally wilbur has had on the dsmp, maybe excluding his dad, who literally killed him lmfao.

this whole issue is exacerbated by the fact that tommy believes that he is the only person who properly understands wilbur, the only person who gets what happened to him, and feels like wilbur is generally his burden to bear. he failed to stop wilbur from both 1. hurting other people and 2. killing himself after the pogtopia-manberg war - and he doesn’t trust wilbur not to do either of those things again, so he’s stuck hovering around wilbur while wilbur is inadvertently setting off his own trauma and feeling responsible for any way he might fuck up and hating that but not wanting to leave. tommy’s memory isn’t perfect and he isn’t a perfect narrator, what he remembers from pogtopia the most were the scariest parts and that’s understandable but it means he’s holding wilbur to the worst expectations of behaviour (and he does so very vocally). the others showed up later, sure, but in tommy’s eyes he’s the only one who saw wilbur’s descent, and by the time they showed up wilbur had already changed irreversably. tommy tries to rationalise this by splitting the ‘different wilburs’ apart from each other in his head (he does this in canon too - there’s one quote from like late 2020 where he says he and tubbo need to keep on going for who wilbur used to be, not who he became, even though they’re,, the same person), and no one challenges that perspective, so he just keeps doing it even though it’s not healthy for him or wilbur.

and then limbo happened and, oh geez, THAT didn’t help jhfaskjjfsa

tommy is on a bit of a knife edge with niki in this fic. niki’s in this state of “ok, he’s annoying whatever, i’m moving on”, but all tommy knows is that she tried to kill him that one time, disappeared off the face of the map, joined a book club with two people who definitely do not like him, and now is just acting weirdly mellow and polite. she is not someone he wants near wilbur bc what the fuck is she gonna do? what is he gonna do? who knows. he’s frustrated that niki doesn’t seem to acknowledge how he’s feeling (especially bc once upon a time she would have been someone he trusted to acknowledge them - they were friends, they fought together) and he’s taking a big step by telling someone about his concerns here, especially bc tommy doesn’t really like talking about them at all. he wouldn’t be saying absolutely anything to niki if he didn’t truly believe she should stay away from wilbur, even if he’s wrong about him. (sometimes i think i write tommy as a little too emotionally mature here but it all goes out the window when wilbur’s brought up. idk if that balances it out)

ok onto niki: this is the first she has actually heard of limbo! she’s only just come around to the fact that resurrection is possible at all. death is kind of a touchy subject for niki both in general and re: wilbur in the fic - she’s coming off of a period in her life where suicidal ideation was, uh, a big thing (whether you want to read that into canon or not is subjective, that’s just the angle i went with in this fic). the sudden existence of a life after death, miserable as it is - and whether she really believes in such a place, when it only exists in tommy and wilbur’s words - that is a lot of information for her to absorb all at once. death is a weird connection point for tommy and niki here, coming right off of the fact that they’ve just acknowledged each other having those problems - tommy, out of, yknow, altruism, would very much like to keep niki out of that place, and niki is quietly reckoning with the fact that that is where she would have sent him. the concept of limbo from the perspective of a character with no experience of it, even secondhand, is so interesting to me like what kind of eldritch location would you feel like you’re living in asghjkl

(also - i gotta be honest the jealousy angle here but mostly when she’s talking later about dream not deserving wilbur’s companionship kinda came out after this post came across my dash while writing. whoops /j)

-

fun fact, this is the very first snippet of bitter that i ever wrote! all the way back in may!! this is like the moment of the fic - it's where the miscommunication that niki and wilbur have been having is shattered entirely - and so sticking the landing was uhhh kinda important to me lol.

wilbur's entire being in this fic is basically consumed by L'Manberg - he equates his self worth to it entirely. in his eyes, everyone (rightfully) hates him because of what he did to L'Manberg, because L'Manberg was corrupted and he himself with it, etc. niki tries to tell herself this, and while it definitely does form part of her issues with him, it was the betrayal that causes her this much pain - that he seemingly brushed her and their friendship off entirely when he supposedly left her for dead in manberg. because here is what we as the audience know: wilbur couldn’t leave niki in trouble when he heard her life was in danger, even when he was trying to find the button (pretty much the only thing he sees himself as having left at this point) and so he returned. here is what it looks like from niki’s perspective: wilbur told her to wait in manberg until it was safe to come to pogtopia, laid the place with TNT, went to blow up the place, and only returned when he couldn’t find the detonator (and then the first thing she saw him do in pogtopia was encourage the pit behaviour but that’s not what we’re talking about asdfgh). that is massive miscommunication and it’s been brewing between them for months - to make a quirky little reference to the title, niki has been carrying that anger with her so long it's gone bitter. it was never just about l’manberg with niki - not that anger, not her and wilbur’s friendship (hence the little flashback earlier in the fic, bc niki’s relationship to anarchism and statehood or statelessness juxtaposed with her friendships with wilbur and eret - she loves l’manberg bc she loves wilbur, but she loves eret too and those national ties don’t undermine that - is Real Interesting to me) - so when wilbur asks what else there could possibly be (because in his mind, what else could she have bothered staying around for?), she just fucking breaks.

“Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut...with slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes” - prose discussion time! heat and cold are two big throughlines in this fic - particularly for niki, cold is what she is. admittedly when i started with it i mostly wanted to subvert hot = angry and cold = dead but i kinda ended up enjoying this take on it for what it is instead of just as a subversion (also i like the idea of revived people running hot, their bodies r working hard to keep em going). she’s holding onto her feelings and refusing to deal with them, she’s frozen over. descriptions of cold are key to niki’s mental state throughout the fic - cold weight on her chest, feelings of frostbite when she and wilbur hug the first time, ice cold water during the dinner scene, waking up in the cold flat, etc. this was an attempt at describing a more visceral feeling of like, when you’re really mad and you can just feel the adrenaline running through your veins. always felt more cold than hot to me. when she starts to cry, the facade she’s been putting on is finally thawing out and cracking the ice she’s buried her feelings under. (also gives an excuse to write warm comforting hugs towards the end /hj). it’s a loss, it’s catharsis, it’s a whole mess.

and ofc this is all news to wilbur and he feels terrible, because as unintentional as it was, he really really hurt her - because the destruction of l’manberg fucking sucked but above all else wilbur hurt the people he loved because they loved him so much and not in spite of it, because they cared about him so deeply and his death was a massive blow to them. this hasn’t even dawned on him, because how could it? he respects deeply niki (lowkey respects her opinion more than his own at this point) so he has to listen, because it’s niki (“and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say” - because he does), and what she says fucking floors him. in his eyes, he failed her by putting her in danger and then by destroying her home - the idea that she valued him and their friendship so much flies entirely over his head until this moment, and he is forced to re-evaluate the mindset that has motivated him since… basically since pogtopia! the way i write wilbur is like… yes, he’s one of niki’s closest friends and he’s more aware of her insecurities and issues than most (which is why he does always take the time to listen to her, etc) but he does over-idealise her a bit. tbf, i think he does to some extent with everyone (calling tubbo strong on the anniversary stream, for example). also the fact that he really wasn’t around for niki’s lowest moments as a character! he still thinks of her the way she was in l’manberg - confident, steadfast, respected - and this moment shatters that for him as he realises exactly what effect he and his death had on her and everyone else, not just by his actions, but because they loved him and cared for him so deeply.

sorry that this got horrifically long!! and thank you so much for sending snippets in <3333

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 11

Word Count: 3,827

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning, Pens, Jackets, Canes, Islanders (more to come)

Notes: You guys have spoken and so here it is the next part of Bubble Wrapped. The new Jamie Benn series RUINED will be out on Thursday.As always feedback is greatly appreciated and wanted...hahaha! Luv ya all!! Happy Reading to all!

The elevator door opened and you walked with Dougie, Joel, and Svech to your suite. All you could think about was how you were going to live with these three for the next few days. They were extremely easy on the eyes, not to mention the comment you swore you heard Edmundson say in the elevator, had you wondering if he'd be sneaking into your bedroom. Not that you were opposed to that, but the bedrooms were kind of close together so the other two would know what was going on. That was unless they were all in there with you.

 Oh god, you needed to get your mind out of the gutter. You opened the door, inviting them all in. "I'll be sure to have keys made for you guys for the next couple of days." Though if you had to guess Carly was probably already taking care of that as you spoke. "So I'll give you a quick tour. This is the living room, obviously, and over there is the dining room." You pointed out each thing as you went. "The bar is fully stocked, but please don't drink all my pinot noir." The last thing you needed was them showing up to a game drunk and their coach reading you the riot act, but they were grown men and it wasn't like you were going to lock up all the alcohol as if they were teenagers. Well, on second thought, maybe you should after what they did to your hotel room. "This is the kitchen. If there's something special you want, just write it down and I'll have the staff bring it up."

 Svech opened the refrigerator doors and took a peek inside. "Man, you've got cookie dough ice cream in here!" It wasn't something that you indulged in every night, but there were times that you just needed a couple scoops to get through the week.

 "If there's another kind you like, just let me know." You told him and his face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Now, if you want to follow me upstairs; I'll show you your rooms." They trailed after you and you felt like a mama duck with her ducklings. "This door right here will take you to the rooftop pool, but please don't go up there if it's not your team time." The last thing you need was someone being pushed off the roof or some such nonsense. "This is my room." Joel craned his neck inside and damnit if you didn't blush as one of your bras was laying on top of the bed from when you were getting ready this morning. You tried to keep them moving down the hall. "Over here is the room with the king and then this one has the two queen beds. Your stuff should be up in a few minutes, but feel free to make yourself at home. I'm going to have to get back to work and clean up the mess that you made."

 "We're really sorry," Dougie told you, with a sad look in his eye. It was really hard to be mad at someone when they were being somewhat adorable at the same time.

 "I know, it's fine, but please tell me what the hell you guys were doing that you broke a water pipe."

 The three of them exchanged glances debating on whether or not to spill the beans, while you tried to give your best impression of your mother. It was the look she always gave you when you did something wrong that just made you so guilt ridden that you finally confessed all your sins. Svech, being the baby of the group, finally couldn't take it. "You see we have a game tonight against Boston," he explained as if that was supposed to be the answer. When he didn't say anything more, you crossed your arms across your chest and just waited. "Anyhow…we heard that Pastrnak's room was above Joel's here. We thought we could interrupt his sleep and maybe throw off his game."

 Oh my god, you had to be kidding. Did these three really think that something like that would work? From the look on their faces, the answer was a resounding yes. "What about you guys? Wouldn't you be missing sleep as well?" They all looked at you dumbfounded as if that never occurred to them. God, athlete's were really didn't think sometimes, did they? "So I take you were banging on the ceiling a little too hard with the hockey stick that I saw?"

 "Yeah," Joel answered sheepishly for the group. "Again, we're really sorry."

 "Well, please don't let it happen in this room. I'd like to keep my job."

 "No, never," Dougie told you.

 "Besides, we're on the top floor. We couldn't annoy anyone if we tried." Svech added. Obviously, he didn't include you in that anyone part.

 "Well, I need to get back to work." Just then there was a knock on the door and you took off downstairs to answer it. It was a couple of bellhops with all their luggage. "The guys will show you what rooms to put it in. Thank you two for coming up so fast with all this stuff. I'm off to the lobby, if you need anything just give me a call."

 "Will do," you heard the trio say as you headed out the door.

 "Oh, and one more thing. No parties up here."

 "You got it, boss." This time you weren't sure if it was the bellhops or your new roommates calling out to you as you shut the door behind you.

 The day went fast, as you were helping Carly find parts to fix the room as well as trying to get all new furnishings in. You literally had a small window of time you were working with. Thankfully, you still had some new mattresses tucked away, when you changed some of the queen beds to king-size. It was the dressers and televisions that you needed to get in, as well as new flooring. Before you knew it, the night shift was taking over and you were headed up to your room.

 The guys were still playing game three and the suite was quiet as you entered. Last you heard they were losing but you hadn't been able to see any of it on television. You hurried upstairs and changed into some comfy clothes, before putting the game on. It was in the third period and the Canes had the puck in the offensive zone. You were too busy following the puck to see exactly what happened, but then the whistle blew and you saw him laying on the ice. Players often went down and then only seconds later got back up and were back ready to play, so you tried not to think the worst, but then they replayed what actually happened. What you couldn't decide was whether it was Svech's knee or ankle that seemed to totally snap as he fell. Your stomach dropped and you couldn't even watch it again, as the camera seemed to zoom in. Trainers dashed onto the ice to take care of him until they finally helped carry him off; Svech not putting any weight on his leg. You weren't sure if he'd be back tonight or not, it was obvious that he needed to go to the hospital to be evaluated, but he was definitely going to need someone to take care of him when he did get back.

 It was a couple hours later when Dougie and Joel came in, neither of them knowing how Svech was doing at the moment, only saying that he was getting scans and MRIs done. They were both mentally and physically exhausted and everyone headed to bed, including you. It was about one-thirty in the morning that you woke up, your brain in a slight sleep fog as you remembered you forgot to set the coffee pot to have your morning brew ready. Let's face it you weren't a functioning human being until at least one cup of caffeine in the morning, well unless you were greeted by a certain smiling hockey player when you rolled over. Quickly, you darted out of your room and down the stairs. You fumbled with the coffee maker for a few minutes in the dark before setting everything up for auto-perk, then went to head back up to your room.

 You'd just stepped into the living room when a figure in white moved on the couch. "Jesus!" you gasped, not sure if you were asking for his help or seeing his spirit move in your suite. As your eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, you could make out that it was Joel squishing his large frame on the sofa. "What are you doing down here?"

 "I couldn't sleep." He mumbled, punching at his pillow before throwing it behind his head in hopes of finding some sort of comfortable position. His gaze lingered on your body a little longer than necessary and it was then that you realized you were only in a cutoff t-shirt and a thong. You hated wearing sleep pants to bed as your legs always got overheated and, in your haste, to get the coffee ready, you hadn't thought to put any on.

 "Is something wrong with the room?"

 "God, no," he was quick to tell you. "It's just…" he seemed to hesitate, so you took a step closer, knowing that it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do given your lack of dress, but you wanted him to know that he could talk to you. "I rolled over and saw Svech's empty bed and kept thinking about how he went down. Thought if I came down here, I could maybe get some shut-eye."

 "How's that working out?"

 He obviously knew you were teasing, as he gave a light chuckle. "Not so bad." His eyes looked you up and down again, and the sympathy you had for him a moment ago, almost vanished.

 "Oh good, then I'll just head back up to my room if you're all comfy."

 "Wait," he said stopping you even though you were kidding. There was no way you were going to let this nearly six-and-a-half-foot body, fit on that tiny couch all night. "Does this thing pull out or something? This couch is actually kind of small."

 "Well, no it's not a pullout. I was actually going to offer my bed to you." His eyes got huge at your suggestion and he started to grab his pillow and sit up. "I'll just take your bed if you don't care."

 "Oh, no I can't let you do that. I'm fine here." Fluffing the pillow back up he threw it behind his head. His frame curling up as best he could on the sofa.

 "Don't be an ass, and take my bed."

 "What kind of gentlemen would I be, if I did that?" Was he just trying to be difficult now or nice; you couldn't really tell?

 "Seriously, you'll be all cramped up if you sleep down here. Now, get your butt upstairs."

 "We could share your bed." Ah, so there it was, the real reason, he wouldn't take your bed. "I promise no funny business." He sounded like your grandmother when he put it like that.

 "If it lets us both get some sleep, then sure." Joel jumped up off the couch as if he hadn't been curled up in a ball on it, grabbing his pillow and following your up the stairs. Once ensconced inside the room, you shut the door before asking, "Which side do you want?"

 "Doesn't matter." You went to crawl in the under the right side of the covers and heard him make a noise, obviously distressed that you'd chosen that side.

 "You could've just said you wanted this one," you teased him, then scooted over to the left side of the bed.

 "I'm trying to be accommodating."

 Turning, you faced the middle of the bed. The fact that it was a California king meant that even with how tall Joel was there was still enough room between the two of you to fit another person. "Goodnight," you whispered over, closing your eyes and wondering if he'd make any sort of move on you.

 "Night," you heard him as he lay facing you. You were almost asleep when you felt him shift, not wanting to open your eyes to see if it was closer to you or if he actually just turned over. Instead, you laid there and waited, and were surprised when nothing happened. Sneaking a quick peek told you that he was laying on his back. You took a moment to take in his well-chiseled form; arms well defined from lifting weights you assumed, a smattering of chest hair barely noticeable in the moonlight, and that indent leading to a happy trail which was covered by blankets. If he didn't do something soon, you were pretty sure you were.

 He moved again, this time presenting you with his back. "Is something wrong?" you called over, and he flipped back once again. Thank god this wasn't a waterbed or you'd have been seasick.

 "Hmm," he mumbled. "No…sorry." You opened your eyes then, and he was just laying there staring at you. "God, you're beautiful...sorry…I promised nothing…" You didn't let him finish, as you scooched over and planted a kiss on his lips. It didn't take long for it to turn into something heated as his tongue quickly sought entrance into your mouth. His hands slipped up under your shirt so he could cup your breasts. The globes molding perfectly in his large hands. A moan escaped your lips as he tweaked each nipple and you felt a rush of wetness go straight to your core.

 You slid your hands down his chest, raking your nails over his abs and causing him to shiver. Joel gathered the hem of your shirt, then lifted it over your head, tossing it somewhere in the bedroom. Pushing his boxers down, you palmed the length of him, and god was there length to him. He hissed out his pleasure as you slid your hand up and down his shaft.

 His hand slithered into your panties; his fingers toying with both your clit and pussy. "So wet," he breathed out and you took the opportunity to push him down so he lay on his back. You quickly disposed of the flimsy garment that was your underwear, before straddling his hips and positioning his cock at your core. Leaning down you touched your lips to his as you slowly sunk down on him.

 Once he was buried fully inside you, you broke the kiss. Whispering for him to be quiet as you started to rock back and forth. Grabbing the headboard for leverage, your body moved up and down on his length. Joel's hand went straight to your hips, helping you find a rhythm that both of you enjoyed. It didn't take long to find a pace that had you both worked up. "Don't stop baby." He hissed out, then took one hand and started to rub your clit. Your back arched and you felt the hand on your hip slide up to cup your breast as you rode him. His hips were rising to meet you now and with the flicking motion on your clit, you could feel the orgasm start to build. Your pussy started to spasm, squeezing his cock as you climaxed. "Fuck," he moaned and flipped you on your back mid-orgasm. Joel, grabbed your hips pinning you to the bed as his cock pistoned in and out of you, as he thoroughly fucked your pussy, and though you'd just climaxed seconds ago, you felt another bursting to the surface. Your legs started to tremble and you clasp them around Joel's waist holding on for dear life. His head dipped down to your shoulder and he softly bit you there as he thrust a few more times before spending deep within you. His arms were shaking with an effort to remain upright and not just topple on you, but he managed to kiss you quickly before rolling back onto his side of the bed.

 You laid there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Fuck, had you ever orgasmed so close together like that before? There wasn't a time that came to mind, well except when Tyler was playing with that vibrator, but that really didn't count. Joel was like some sort of sex god, and you had to wonder if you had sex again would it be just as good? Hopefully, you'd find out tomorrow night or the next for that matter, but for now, you needed to not act like the man had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life. You rolled onto your side to face him, propping your head on your hand. "Think you'll be able to sleep now?"

 He laughed at the comment, still a bit out of breath. "Oh yeah," he responded finally, though he padded out of bed to the bathroom and you heard him splash some water on his face, before coming back in with a wet washcloth to clean you up. Joel pulled the covers back, then gently spread your legs, before wiping your thighs and then your pussy. It was all rather intimate but after what the two of you had just done, nothing seemed off-limits. He tossed the cloth, back in the bathroom, then crawled back into bed, bringing the blankets up around both of you, before scooting closer to you and tucking you into his side. "I think I'll sleep even better if you're like this. Unless this is too uncomfortable for you?"

 Damn, if this man wasn't a gentleman. "Not at all," you told him and snuggled a little closer toward him. His breathing evened out in minutes and the hand that was idly stroking your back, slowly stopped. It took him all of about two minutes to fall asleep. You chuckled to yourself at that fact, though quickly followed behind him.

 You were still locked in the same position the next morning when you felt the sun peeking through the small opening you'd left in the blinds. Slowly, you opened your eyes, careful not to move too much in hopes of not disturbing Joel if he was sleeping. Though as you opened them, you were greeted with his staring back at you. "Morning," you whispered groggily.

 "Morning, beautiful." You stretched as much as you could, while still held within the comfort of his arms. "Thanks again for last night. Best night's sleep I've had since I got in the bubble."

 "Well, we do pride ourselves here in our customers getting a good night's sleep."

 He laughed, then dropped a kiss to your forehead. "You definitely live up to your word."

 Glancing over at the clock, you noticed the time and knew that you had to get ready to start your day. "I'd love to stay here in bed with you all day, but some of us have work."

 He pulled you close, and took the opportunity to kiss you fully on the lips before answering. "We have practice as well. I should probably grab a bite to eat first. I'll meet you downstairs in a bit." He kissed you one last time, before climbing out of bed and heading back to his room.

 It was about forty-five minutes later, that you came downstairs to find both him and Dougie sitting at the dining room table where a full breakfast was laid out. "Wow, what's this?"

 "I took the liberty of ordering room service," Joel told you. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so there's a little bit of everything." You were used to just grabbing a yogurt and maybe a banana, but the Belgium waffles smelled delicious, so you sat down and joined them.

 "Thanks," you said, as you grabbed a bit of fresh fruit and put it on your plate. "Did you guys sleep well?" You already knew Joel's answer but you wanted to make it look good so that Dougie wouldn't know what the two of you had been up to.

 "I slept like the dead," Dougie answered. "Haven't had that good of sleep in a long time."

 "Same," Joel said only his face turned a delightful shade of red and he started to cough.

 "Dude, are you choking or something?" Dougie said, patting him on the back.

 "I'm fine," he finally got out. "Wrong pipe." Joel was saved from further embarrassment as the door to the suite opened and in came Svech, hobbling on a pair of crutches and wearing a boot on his leg.

 "Hey man, how are you?" Dougie asked as you all got up to go check on him.

 "Ok, still not sure the extent of anything. They're going to do another MRI tomorrow. Doctors just said to stay off it and take it easy." Andrei answered the question you were all dying to know.

 "Well, here why don't you sit down," you told him, motioning for him to go on the couch. He plopped down and you immediately went and grabbed a few pillows to prop under his leg. "Can I get you something to eat?"

 "Yes, I'm starving. I haven't had anything since before the game." You went over and made him a heaping plate of breakfast food, while the guys talked specifics with him. He was definitely out for the rest of the series and you had a feeling it would be the rest of playoffs if the Canes made it through this round. "This is great, thank you."

 "I need to get downstairs and check on things, are you going to be ok here?" You asked Svech.

 "Yeah, I just have to figure out the stairs. I slept like hell." His face confirmed the words he'd just spoken as there were bags under his eyes. "Sure, that wasn't the case for you guys."

 Joel avoided looking at his younger colleague and you almost burst out laughing. "If you can wait here for about twenty minutes, I'll take you in through the pool." You told him. "We can use the door upstairs that has a private entrance into the suite that I showed you yesterday, that way you don't have to use the stairs. You just need a different key to get back in."

 "Wow, been holding out on us." Dougie teased. "We could've had a pool party last night." You rolled your eyes.

 "Finish your breakfast, and I'll be back in a few." You headed off to make sure that everything was fine in the hotel and to see if you were needed for anything as you had a feeling that Svech was going to need a lot more help than just making it upstairs.

[romyr4]

A hot flash or just hot?

Part 2

Catch up: Part 1

Rating: Not under 18

Warning: Full on fluff

A/n: You guys wanted another part to this one so here it is. Let me know if you maybe even want a third part or if you have a request for me to write about these two amazing beings. 

The gif is from: @rubyanjel​ 

Tony opens his eyes as the sun shines through the curtains. He feels Frances pressed against his side with her hand on his chest and her leg over his. She is still sleeping soundly and he gently rubs her back. Waking up like this is the best way for him as he inhales her scent. Suddenly she grabs his chest tightly while her breath stocks.

He tries to soothe her by rubbing her arm as her body stiffens. She shakes her head multiple times and he can feel the panic seep into her body. Her tight grip on his chest gets worse and he feels her fingertips going into his bare flesh. There escapes a sob out of her mouth and he feels his heart break a little. She whispers something over and over, but he can't hear clearly what she is saying.

Her leg kicks his as she pushes against him. He doesn't know if he needs to let her go or hold her even tighter to him. He notices that she is crying when a few tears drop on his chest. He hugs her closer to him and she settles a little against his side. He exhales a breath that he has been holding when he feels her calm down a little. He brushes the back of his fingers over her now wet cheek and wipes away the tears.

All of a sudden she screams and sits up in bed. She is in a full sweat as she feels two arms around her waist. "It's okay, it was just a dream." He whispers into her ear as he shifts behind her so she can fall back against his chest. His legs are now beside hers as he stretches them fully.

She is breathing heavily as her head leans against his shoulder. She can't even remember that he was in her bed. The feeling of him being here for her makes her relax instantly. "I'm sorry." Her eyes are closed as he looks over her face. He tightens his grip around her waist, trying to reassure her that he is here to stay.

"You never have to apologize for something like that." He snuggles his head in her neck and kisses her skin just behind her ear. She shivers and he smiles at her reaction. They both hear the gong and they sigh simultaneously. She shifts and pulls his hands into hers in her lap. She entwines their fingers and looks at them, suddenly having the feeling that this is something she wants to wake up to forever.

"Thank you." She whispers and he kisses her neck again. She closes her eyes automatically at his closeness and tries to remember every little detail about this moment. She feels his tongue lick her neck tenderly and she can't do anything about the moan that escapes her lips. She opens her eyes and brings her head away from his shoulder. His long legs are entwined with her short ones and she giggles at the sight.

He smiles when he hears her beautiful and cute giggle. "What is so funny buddy?" He says as he caresses her hand with his thumb. She feels completely content at this moment with him wrapped around her. Without thinking she puts her head back on his shoulder as the feeling of this moment overwhelms her.

"We are so different, but in a good way." He laughs a full belly laugh when the gong chimes again. He groans and she chuckles. "I think we need to go." He disentangles himself from their hug and gets out of bed. She looks at him while he tries to find his shorts and shirt. He put them on her radiator so they could dry throughout the night from their little encounter in the pool. She giggles while he bends down and he looks behind him at her on the bed.

"You like what you see?" She chuckles and pulls the duvet all the way up to her nose. He gets a wicked look in his eyes and creeps towards the bed. He is still in his boxers when he jumps on the bed and takes her down with him. She giggles as he lies on top of her. "Are you laughing at me?"

He tickles her and the sound of her giggle makes his heart melt. "Stop! Please stop. Okay okay. You are just crazy." She laughs as he falls in between her legs and her chuckle subsides as she feels him in between her legs. The atmosphere changes in the room and she feels her cheeks getting hot.

He supports himself on his hands that are on either side of her head as he slowly lowers his face to hers. He pecks her lips sweetly and smiles at her. The third gong chimes and they both know they have no time left together. "We should go." She says as she traces his lower lip with her thumb. She comes up to meet his lips again. Her hands are traveling through his hair and beard as she deepens the kiss. His tongue caresses hers and she moans at the sensation.

He breaks the kiss and he puts his forehead to hers. "Yeah, we should go." He gets off the bed to find the rest of his clothes as Frances does the same. When they both have found their outfits he grabs her hand and kisses the back of it. She smiles shyly while getting a little flushed.

"Let's go." He says, still holding her hand when he walks out of her bedroom.

----

A/n: So... what did you think? 

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Lights The Dark

Chapter 7 Lesson Plan: Confrontation Conversation

Whitley sits slumped over his desk, scroll sitting on the edge and laptop still open, fast asleep. Sunlight beams through the window shining just enough light into his room to stir him out of his slumber. Whitley looks around confusing for a bit before fully waking up. Stretching out his arm he yawns before refocusing on his computer. He had been checking the profiles of some of the suspects’ children, looking for a target to probe for some information on their parents. Being the youngest child of the wealthiest elites in world Whitley knew just how much of the parents’ troubles reached the children’s ears and how most would pour their hearts out to the first good therapist or trustworthy kind soul they could find. And with the economic in such a downward spiral there should be plenty unfortunate souls ready to spill all that sorrowful truth to next person to lend their ear. All he need to find was one so ready to burst that they’d spill everything out to the sweet little non threatening newcomer Penny. He had narrowed it down to four possible targets and already message one about meeting a “friend” of his soon. He goes to check for a reply when he notices the time. 6:26 am, less then hour until his day started.

He gets up from desk and to his bathroom to get cleaned up. After a shower he drys, brushes and styles his hair, brushes his teeth, then vigorously his face. Once he’s done in bathroom he heads to his closet and pulls out a clean, ironed, and pressed set of clothes. He gets dressed then checks himself in the mirror, straightening his tie, cuffing his shirt sleeves, and making sure his teeth and hair look perfect. He then goes over himself one more time to make sure that any “ blemishes“ are covered. Everything looks good, he’s clean, orderly, prim, and up to standard.

Soon there’s a knock on his door and a maid Sue, enters.

Sue: Good Morning Young Master, it’s time for breakfast.

Whitley: Will Mother or Father be joining me this morning?

Sue: Master is sleeping in and Mistress is….

Whitley: Already on her third Bloody Mary and having a cry in her library again?

Sue: yes..Yes she is.

Whitley: (Sharp inhale and exhale) Just bring it here then. There’s no point in setting up a dining room for one person. Besides I still have things I need done soon rather than later so I could use the spare time.

Sue: Yes Young Master, since you’re eating alone would you like to make a request? Maybe some pancakes or crapes?

Whitley: Sue, you know that Father has me on a strict diet that I must follow. If I don’t then I’d be going against Father’s wishes and we all know how that ends.

Sue: Yes…we do. I’ll go retrieve your schedule meal.

Whitley: Thank you Sue.

Sue leaves and Whitley returns to his desk and continues his work. After a bit Sue returns with a tea cart, coffee kettle, cup, and a plate of food hidden under a silver food cover stocked on it. Sue pours the coffee and sets it down on Whitley’s desk , then removes the cover from plate revealing a piece of avocado toast topped with raw thin cut salmon, egg, herbs and a tomato slice with small side salad. Sue places the plate and some silverware next to the coffee. Whitley thanks her and Sue takes the cart and leaves allowing Whitley to fully focus on his task as he works and eats. He scrolls through profiles and timeline with one hand and he handles his breakfast, taking a few bites and sips between reading with the other only using both when eating the side salad. Half an hour later his meal time is up, Whitley places his dishes on the side of his desk for the maids before getting up, wiping his face, and heading out to the other library to begin the most taxing part of his day.

From a little after sunrise to only moments before sunset Whitley was to study. Advanced Mathematics, Business statistics, management, and technology, Languages, Computer science, World history, Politics, Advanced reading and Writing made up the list of academics lessons Whitley partook in. Then there’s his etiquette lessons. Despite taking this lessons from the time he could walk and finally mastering them a few years ago his Father was firm in his stance of Whitley continuing with them so he “wouldn’t get sloppy and embarrass the family”. So he continued taking classes on speech, maintaining his posture, table manners, and dance alongside his piano lessons. But even with all that structured schedule there was still a wild card in his day to day life. That being his father getting lazy and randomly handing down his work to Whitley. He’d frame it as “ preparing him for his future as the next head” but given the difficulty of some of the task he was assigned, Whitley never believed him.

This had been his life for some time and it had only gotten worse since Weiss left, returned, then left again. With her doing the unforgettable in their father’s eyes Whitley was now his father’s last chance to maintain his twisted empire and for the sake of himself and the people around him Whitley had no choice but to play along. He likened his life to a porcelain doll on display, he was to be beautiful, pristine, and perfect in the eyes of Atlas at all times. This left no room for him to have a life of his own. Everything was planned, monitored, noticed so nothing ever changed and did it was only for a moment and was never pleasant. That was until they made this new deal with the military. It had been hours and Whitley had just finished up his piano lesson when his scroll began beeping, notifying him of his upcoming afternoon appointment.

This will be the third day of her lessons in the manor and Whitley still couldn’t decipher how or what she made him feel. Ever since they met and the dream had changed her presence had made him feel uneasy. He wasn’t disgusted by her or afraid of her rather being around her had been…. far from what he was expecting. His only experience with soldiers had been some small interactions with Ironwood and what little he saw of Winter before she disappeared from his life. Both had been as cold and stoic as one would expect from a soldier but Penny was completely different. He originally thought it training a rough and tough soldier to blend in with high society would extremely difficult but Penny had been doing surprising well. She was intelligent, awkward, curious, childish, and kind if trained correctly she could become a bit of a darling, someone of lower standing elites could cast their worries on without care, a human pet a novelty they fawn over and complain to. Her sweet disposition and intelligence she’d fit the role well and she’d been in the perfect position to gather the information she needed.

But that’s where the problem had began. Her kindness, her curiosity, even her awkwardness was all so different from everything he knew. Her curious glancing, her smiles, her worrying and awkwardness, they were all so…sincere. Now Whitley had known some kindness through Klein but that had come from years of Klein caring for him and his sisters in their parents stead, but Penny’s was a completely different entity. Her positive attitude and cheerfulness made being in her presence feel effortless, her kindness was unconditional and selfless she care for others without constraint, her intelligence made him curious he wanted to know just how far it went. Was just all military based or did she have more general knowledge? Was she just a quick learner or was she just good at problems solving? He couldn’t help but wonder about her possible intellectual abilities. But what was truly unnerving to him was the way Penny looked at him. She looked at him with this gentle but intense stare, as if she saw something more in him. Beyond him being from Atlas, beyond his status as an elite, and maybe even beyond his title as the heir? Whitley couldn’t really tell what she could possibly be seeing when she looked at him and it drove him mad. Why did she look at him like that? Why did she care so much about a person she barely knew? And why..Why did she make him feel like this!

Whitley had been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized that he’d already walked into one of the lounge rooms, today’s lesson room. He sat on the L shaped sofa in of the lounge room patiently awaiting her arrival. Today’s lesson will be geared towards teaching her to lead a conversation. Getting information from an elite was not something you could just ask for. No, there was a sort of verbal dance one had go through to get even the most chatty of elites to tell what they wanted to know. And today Whitley would be teaching her the first steps of that dance.

Soon Penny and a butler, Alexander enter the room. Alexander stands by the door holding some in his left arm as Penny walks towards him, they make eye contact and she looks at him with that gentle stare again. A warm tingle burned in his chest but he ignores it and put on his best “smile”.

Whitley: Good afternoon Ms. Polendina. Are you ready for today’s lesson?

Penny: Yes!

Whitley: Good.

Whitley motions towards the other end of the sofa.

Whitley: Sit down over there then we’ll get started.

Penny takes a seat at the other end of the sofa, place her bags by her feet. Once she sits she puts her feet close together and her hands are in her lap, fidgeting. She seems a bit nervous but far less then she did at orientation. Good, she’d need to be calm for this lesson to take properly.

Whitley: Today we’ll be working on the art of conversation.

Penny: The art of conversation?

Whitley: Yes, you see when dealing when with elites you can’t just ask for it upfront, you have to know how to have a successful conversation. Which is what I’m going to teach you to do today since you obviously don’t know how.

Penny: What do you mean? I’ve had plenty of successful conversations before.

Whitley: I’m sure you have, and while that’s admirable there’s still a big issue in the way you communicate. That issue being that you’re far too reactionary. You more often the not just speak when spoken to and when you do speak first it’s just one or two questions then it’s right back to silence. You don’t initiate enough and gathering information you need to ask the right questions to get the information you need without revealing your motives for asking. This requires you to know how to lead a conversation in your favor. Something you clear don’t know how to do.

Penny: I see.

Whitley: This can be fixed, you just need a few examples to follow. Let’s have a practice conversation, I’ll lead first then once we’re done I tell what I got out of it then we’ll go over some ground rules, useful phrases, and common tactics then you’ll lead with what you learned. Think you can handle that?

Penny: Yes!

Whitley: Excellent, let’s get started. So Ms. Polendina what’s your day like being a soldier?

Penny: Oh, I mainly work in Mantle, from the morning until the afternoon I patrol the streets. I arrest criminals, assist first responders during emergencies, and fight any Grimm that get into or too close to the city or the nearby factories. After that I assist the Huntsmen and huntsmen in training at the academy training facility. I work the controls for my assigned training room and train with the huntsmen and students on request. Once all my sessions on done I have to report to a Military Outpost to write and submit my reports on the days events. All arrest reports, daily logs, and detailed incident reports must be submitted everyday before I can be dismissed for the day but once they are I’m dismissed and allowed to go home and rest for the evening.

Whitley: My! That quite a lot of work for one young woman, your family must worry about you.

Penny: My dad does worry a bit but he understands that this is what I have do as a soldier. But he does his best to sure I relax when I’m at home. He gets up early and makes breakfast and dinner for us everyday so we can eat together before I leave for patrol and when I get back no matter late it is.

Whitley: That’s very sweet of him, I suppose some parents really never stop caring for their children. But still do even you have time for friends or hobbies?

Penny: I do have a few hobbies, I sew, read, watch television, and study battle strategies whenever I have free time. I’ve also been wanting to try scrapbooking but I haven’t had the time to. As for friends I..I….I am friends with four huntresses I was very close with one of them but I haven’t seen them in a while. I do get along well with my fellow soldiers and huntsmen when I interact with them.

Whitley: I see, I also read as a hobby, mostly art history and some historical fiction. I find both incredibly interesting because of their timeless appeal as records of humanity’s artistic and creative evolution. What are you’re favorite genres?

Penny: My favorite book genre? That would be fables and fairytales, I love stories about strong heroes, kind princesses, and adventurers banning together to protect the world from the forces of evil! They fill me with hope and are very relaxing and fun to read.

Whitley: It’s that a bit childish, stories like those are meant to teach younglings to be nice and respectful. There really no depth to them.

Penny: I know but that’s why enjoy them so much. They are simply, sweet, hopeful stories about doing good in the world and protect those who need protection. It resonates with me as my job is very much the same and knowing that even in fiction people do their best to protect land they love gives me a sense of solidarity.

Whitley: That’s very unique way of looking at it, you’re quite the optometrist aren’t you?

Penny: It’s in part a learned behavior. The idea of staying positive is something my best friend, one of the huntresses I mentioned, taught me some time ago. It helps a lot on the harder days.

Whitley: Hmm, sounds like the military has some surprisingly nice people in their ranks, how nice. Alright I think I’ve heard enough, so Ms. Polendina what do you think I learned from our little conversation?

Penny: Hmm you learned about my hobbies and work schedule.

Whitley: Yes but I also learned a bit about your home life, your attitude towards your work, your friendships, and your personality. Now to be fair these are merely guesses based on one conversation, so feel free to correct if I’m wrong. First, you gave a very analytical explanation of your work responsibilities as though you were reading it off a chalkboard. Neither enthusiastic or nihilistic just a neutral statement outside of a hint of distain for fulling out reports but then again who actually enjoys paperwork. And despite your optimism it seems like you have to push and reaffirm yourself to satisfy your work obligations. Overall your attitude towards your job is just as you stated “it is what you have to do as a soldier”.

Penny opens her mouth to protest his statement but she can’t dispute it. On her hard days she would always tell herself that she was doing her best for everyone’s sake but was that really true? She was literally made to protect people, she existed to protect people and though seeing them safe made her happy she had to admit her work had still caused her a lot of pain. She looks down at her waist and wraps her arms around herself. For some reason her waist felt….tight.

Whitley: Now now, no need to look so distort. Most people simply tolerate their jobs and would rather talk about anything else when they can. It’s only natural that a person, even a soldier, would eventually be weighed down by that amount of responsibility. Doesn’t make the job any less important or the person less devoted, human just have limits to how long they can work until it becomes draining.

Penny: I suppose that makes sense. That would be a good explanation for a humans’ behavior but for me……

Whitley: On to a more positive note, your home life sounds very healthy and seems to have played a part in how you stay so optimistic. Your father sounds like a loving and nurturing person, who looks out for your wellbeing.

Penny: He really does, so much so that I start to worry about his wellbeing with how effort he puts into everything. (chuckles)

Whitley: Hmm such a considerate daughter. On to your friendships, there seems to be some distance between you and them but it didn’t sound like there’s any bitter or resented towards them so I’m guessing it’s just literally the distance causing any issues.

Penny: That is part of the reason, the rest is…is…

Whitley: Is alright you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. I’m just trying to make a point, I don’t need to know all the details. I just need know whether my observations are right or not.

Penny: Okay, so far your observations have been very accurate, much more then I was expecting.

Whitley: Good that means we’re on the right track. Back to the topic of your relationships, though it’s doesn’t sounds like you’re going out and getting donuts together but there’s at least a healthy amount of workplace respect between you and your colleagues.

Penny: I don’t understand what you mean?

Whitley: Was I wrong? it didn’t sound like you dislike your coworkers but-

Penny: No no you’re not wrong I just don’t see what donuts have to do with my relationship with my fellow soldiers.

Whitley: Well you know it’s the old clique about law enforcement loving donuts?

Penny tilts her head , eyes full of confusion as she tries to understand what Whitley was saying. After a moment Whitley realized that she was being serious and really had no idea what he was talking about. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, bewildered by her naivety.

Whitley: (Deep inhale) Around 30 years ago depiction of law enforcement enjoying coffee and donuts was popularized by television and movies. It’s a result of the rise of 24-hour convenient store and quick coffee shops which were frequented most commonly by people who worked the late night shift which at the time was mostly law enforcement. It’s a humorous stereotype, a sort of light joke.

Penny: Oooooh. That is kinda of funny seeing as most law enforcement would only eat something that sugary is as a quick snack and a light stimulate to help keep them awake during their evening shifts.

Whitley: Yes that…is the joke. Quick question Ms. Polendina do you know the meanings of a turn of phrase or idioms and if so how many do you know?

Penny: I do know the terms but I am afraid I don’t know any besides a few my dad use and only after he explained them to me. I haven’t really been around enough people who use them to know more.

Whitley: You really don’t have much of a social life, do you? Though I can’t really judge, my social circle is completely comprised of business contacts and service staff.

Penny: This is actually the longest conversation I’ve had with someone outside my family or the military in a very long time if not overall.

Whitley: Gods all might how on Remnant did-So your personality was the easiest to identify as you’ve been very open throughout the entire session. You, Penny Polendina, are a very honest, kind, hardworking, naïve, slightly awkward, intelligent, and caring person.

Penny’s cheeks warm up a bit at his praise.

Penny: Thank you, that’s very nice of you to say.

Whitley: Not really it just my observation but I hope you now see the importance of knowing how to lead a conversation.

Penny: Yes I do, your observations were far more detailed and informative then I expected. If I can learn how to deduce some much from conversations I’m sure I’ll be able to find leads and investigate this case efficiently!

Whitley: To be fair your honesty made it fairly easy but I can promise most elites won’t be so truthful or open. If they’re talking with someone of equal standing they’ll be much more guarded with their words. But with how you’ll be presenting yourself I doubt they’ll as defensive especially if you follow the rules.

Whitley looks over to Alexander and gesture for him walk to them. Alexander hands the objects he’s been holding to Penny, it a notepad and ballpoint pen. Penny looks at Whitley confused.

Whitley: This going to be a long list and we won’t get through everything we need to in one day. You’ll need to take notes.

Penny opens the notepad and clicks the pen, placing the tip less then a centimeter away from the page. Once she’s all set and gives Whitley as smile and nod signaling for him to start.

Whitley: Rule Number 1, Always start with small talk, never ask any invasive or personal questions out right. This is conversation not integration being too direct makes people cautious and defensive. Starting with simple Introductions and an opener like “how are you” or “how are you enjoying this event”. If it’s there the first time you’re meeting the asks a bit themselves like occupations, hobbies, or social life. Then be sure to answer their questions in turn. But if it’s too personal, inappropriate, or puts you at risk of blowing your cover or could harm you absolutely avoid answering it. Change topics, feign ignorance, ignore it, lie, politely walk away if you have to. Do anything and everything in your power to make sure you’re never in a completely venerable position.

Penny jots down every last word, captivated by his lecture. It had been at while since she had sat down and learned something the traditional way, and with such a new subject made even better! Once there’s a pause she looks up at Whitley and raises her hand inquisitively. Whitley quickly notices and points at her.

Whitley: Did you miss something or do you need some clarification?

Penny: No, it’s just that I may have some difficulty with the last point as I can’t tell lies.

Whitley: (Sighs) I understand you may have code of honor or something like it. But sometimes morals must be bent to achieve-

Penny: No I physically cannot tell a lie without it being noticeable.

Whitley: D-do you have a tell or twitch?

Penny: Yes, when I lie I hiccup. It’s completely involuntary and there no way of stopping if as happens within the last word.

Whitley: I see, can you still refuse or ignore a question you shouldn’t answer?

Penny: Yes, I can.

Whitley: Then just do that instead. On to Rule Number 2.

Penny looks down at the notepad and starts writing again.

Whitley: Never allow a conversation to go over ten minutes unless it’s informative or beneficial. There’s a finite amount of time to socialize during any event, and if they’re just prattling on and on and you’re getting nothing out of it, it’s best end it before you lose too much of the evening. Rule Number 3, listen very carefully when someone is speaking, sometimes they’ll say more than they mean to. Say their talking about their work week and they bring up a specific problem or an unrelated issue it may hold some greater significances and could be used to dig deeper if they have information that could be useful. Especially if it relates to one of the suspects, if they’ve been acting out of character or erratically someone is bonded to notice soon or later. Now to the more offensive tactics, Rule Number 4, once you’ve got someone invested in speaking with you ask some leading questions to probe for the actual information you’re after. When inquiring about one of your suspects, ask what the person thinks of them, how they’ve been doing, or if they been acting strangely. Be sure to ask one per three question they ask you, and only on one out of five to eight people you speak to. If they seem uninterested, uncomfortable, or suspicious change the subject immediately. Rule Number Five, always maintain your composure no matter. No matter how snide, crude, confrontational, or outright rude they may get you most never show weakness to your aggressor, that only empowers them to do worse. Rule Six-

Alexander: Young Master, this session’s time is coming to an end.

Whitley: Grand, looks like we’ll have to stop here. But first I’d like to see you practice what you’ve learned so let’s have a quick practice conversation before you go.

Penny: Okay.

Penny hesitates for a moment. There was so much she wanted to ask him that she didn’t know where to start. She wanted to ask if this was how he was taught or did change up the curriculum for her? Did he have other hobbies aside from reading? What was his favorite color? What kind of food does he like? How did he get along with the people in the manor? How was it like having two big sisters? Talking with him had been so much fun and she had learned some much Penny could just spend all day there, talking with him but this wasn’t the time nor place for her to being thinking like that. This was an etiquette lesson and her teacher was trying to assess what she had learned so she had to do this professionally. She should start with occupation but he was a big too young to work anywhere in Atlas so…

Penny: So, Whitley Schnee, how do you go about your academic studies? Do you go to a private or public school?

Whitley smirks, it’s a decent first attempt.

Whitley: Neither actually, I receive all my lessons here in the manor from the world’s best tutor on a variety of subjects.

Penny: So you’re home schooled, that’s very interesting. Since you don’t physically go to a school how do you interact with your peers?

Whitley: Outside of events I don’t. With my numerous studies and preparations for becoming the next head I don’t have time for such trivial things.

Penny: Oh…since you’re home so often you must spend a lot of time with your parents. Especially since you seem to be the only child still living with them.

Whitley: Excuse me?

Penny: You are the youngest of the three siblings, right? I’ve met both Winter and Weiss but since we don’t speak to each other very often I don’t know much about them aside from the fact that they’re huntresses and sisters. In fact I didn’t know that you were their brother until after the evening party. So I was wondering how-

Whitley: I think we’re out of time.

Penny: But you still haven’t-

Whitley stands up and walks to the door and opens it. He holds it open and gestures for her to leave.

Whitley: We’ll continue with this tomorrow for now please go.

His eyes were cold, his face unreadable as waits for her walk towards them. Eventually Penny gets up and walks herself and her belongings to the door, she tries to give back the notepad but he just looks at it then at her.

Whitley: I said you’ll need the notes, read over them tonight so you’re prepared for tomorrow’s lesson.

Penny holds the pad to her chest and exits the room with Alexander following behind her. Whitley closes the door behind them, places his hands on his face as he takes a few deep breaths.

Whitley: “ Didn’t know that you were their brother” Huh? At least they’re not spewing poison about me.

He’s leaning against the wall when his scroll deeps. It’s a message from one of the targets ,Octavia Foxglove, she responded to his earlier message and was showing interest in meeting his new “friend”. Along with that message she sent her contact information. Whitley immediately dials her personal number.

Whitley: Hello Octavia, how have you been? I just got your message and just wanted to tell you I’d be happy to introduce you to her whenever you’d like. Are you still hosting your monthly tea party?

[quartzcraft-mc]

A Tale of Foxblossom

[Word Count - 1637]

For our Pride Month Competition, we hosted a few compeitions including an Writing Competition! Thunderbird25 was voted for 1st place with their amazing piece called ‘A Tale of Foxblossom’. Thunder wrote a lovely story including some of the other player’s OC’s within the story as well as their own, depicting a normal day on the server!

VVV Read Below!!! VVV

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She stared at the map in her hands. Then squinted. Pressing her face to the worn paper, she mentally calculated how far it was from here, in Foxblossom, to the railway line west of her current spot.

It was maybe a thousand blocks? But the ground wasn't totally flat- she'd walked the distance and left her both winded and wet, having crossed through a swamp and back- If she went as the crow flies- no, should she? That would mean digging a tunnel, and who knew how long that would take.

This was making her brain hurt, but that might have been the eye strain.

With a deep sigh, she picked up her diamond shovel. Fully enchanted - of course, it was her – but it had several thin cracks running through the wood handle and extended underneath the blade. She should make a new one; this would break soon. Future her problem!

She had a plan. She would mark out a road five blocks wide and dig in a straight line until she met the railway.

This was going to take forever.

Thunder wasn’t entirely sure why she'd decided to dig a road about a thousand blocks long, only that she'd woken up one day and had had nothing to do. She… didn't like to stay still. Better to be productive, to do things with her mind and hands. It kept her occupied, kept her from fretting, from worrying. Of course, it helped to have a schedule.

Not that she didn’t have lots to do- she had her shop at the mall to stock, resources to gather, the Lorebary to manage –

But she was just so tired. Her sleep had been abysmal recently, filled with nightmares and strange images. Sometimes it was of her home, going up in flames. Other times, it was of the End, looking into a memory of the people there- those dreams, she suspected, may actually be real. On the other hand, maybe it was her magic reacting to the magic in her elytra. But, of course, who knew if it was real or not? Regardless, she was feeling a bit crummy and needed to just go. Do something mindnumbing and repetitive. It had helped when she first went to the swamp. Maybe it would help now? Tire herself out enough that she could actually sleep for once?

The logistics were a little tricky- but she figured she could dig a small initial tunnel then widen it later. Getting up at the crack of dawn was a bit of a struggle – it was bloody freezing, her breath misting and turning to ice as she breathed. She could see Annika at her farm, taking her animals out to graze – the small figure whistled and gave a brief wave as she turned back to her cows. Thunder smiled, giving a wave back before she trudged towards the town centre.

Her boots crunched on the dirt and gravel path, loud and intrusive in the early morning. It felt like she was disturbing the stillness that hung in the air, like she was the only one here, awake. There was no breeze – thankfully since the temperature was certainly cold enough! The land was asleep. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd chosen to come to such a cold place – it was a far cry from her homeland and the Nether, places made of fire, of heat, of never-ending summers. Winters were considered a distant dream, a fantasy in the relentless land of sweat and discomfort and danger. She still remembered her first bushfire – on the outskirts of her city, the smoke staining the sky black with ash falling from the sky like snow. It was terrifying, the thousand block fire-front creeping ever closer; would they lose their homes like the other towns? It had lasted a good week, with casualties and refugees streaming in from the surrounding cities; lives had been spared, homes lost.

It was a stray storm, traveling south from the battered northern regions, that turned the tide.

Smoke had hung in the air for weeks afterward; it was in her hair, her clothes. Soon, it was considered odd to not smell smoke; fires were commonplace. But here? The cold felt like it gripped the land in a lover's embrace, a different kind of danger. One that she wasn't used to.

She had reached the edge of the town center, her mind running away from her. Focus, now. Yes, her self-appointed task. She tended to use whatever supplies she had on hand - birch and oak planks, gathered by herself, with extra bought from the mall. She figured she’d work as she went, but this would take a while. The road would start next to the town map and visitor’s log- cutting directly west, through the birch and oak forest, the swamp, and the spruce forest.

Shoveling out the dirt was easy, under the effects of the nearby beacon and her enchanted shovel. She just needed to shore up the sides as she went- cobble worked well enough, and enough was lying around. The stone was tricker- her enchanted pickaxe still made short work of the stone, carving deep gashes in the earth before being scraped away- but it was backbreaking work, and she quickly tired. Falling into a routine was easy- it was similar to carving out her swamp base, both relaxing and mind-numbing at the same time.

She'd dug out the first stretch of the tunnel, taking a few days. It was maybe a third of the way. She'd just finished putting up the torches - she'd dealt with enough mobs with her recent adventures, she just wanted a break!- when footsteps echoed down the rough tunnel. A soft purple gleam in the darkness caught her eye when she turned, and the footsteps got closer-

“Thunder! Wow, this is a long tunnel. How long have you been building it for?" Marina's cheerful voice echoed off the tunnel walls, bouncing and amplifying. She grinned, wearing enchanted netherite and carrying a complete set of enchanted netherite tools - Thunder's own tools were looking a tad shabby at the moment.

Thunder paused, standing up to stretch and rest her arms for the moment. They hurt, aching fiercely, with nicks and scratches from where she'd been hit by flying debris and her own occasional clumsiness. Then, scratching the back of her head, she shrugged with a smile. "What day is it?"

“Sunday.”

"Day three, then." The other woman blinked. “Woooow, that’s a while. Are you going to the railway?”

"Yeah, I figured it might be handy to have a railway connecting Foxblossom to the track. Didn't think it would take this long though," Thunder laughed, sheepish. She shrugged. "I still need to put down a proper path, though. I was planning on using oak wood and birch."

“Oh, okay! Would you like some help, nya?” Marina tilted her head to the side, swirling her pickaxe.

Thunder blinked. She was offering to help dig the rest of the way? It was still over five hundred blocks. “I… wouldn’t say no?”

"Nya, of course, dear! What do you need me to do?"

She was too kind. Showing Marina, the tunnel's dimensions was easy. Then the woman set off, digging with a single-minded focus that was honestly impressive. Thunder had finished placing the wood path down for the first section, and turning back to the next chunk of the track, she found-

A massive tunnel, carved through the nearby hill, sunlight filtering through to the other side of the tunnel. It glinted off the swamp water and Marina's armour, catching her eye. The other woman was already constructing a path across the water out of stone and brick. It looked strong enough to support a rudimentary path and would work well enough. There was idle chatter as they worked to build the bridge across, the sun making its slow march across the sky. Thunder only noticed when she stood up to stretch and wipe her forehead on her sleeve. It was hard work, and her armour was being safely stored within her inventory. A vast array of colours were splashed across the sky, the sun painting the clouds a mix of orange, pink and purple hues.

It was- it was beautiful. The light filtered through the spindly leaves of the spruce trees, casting soft, growing shadows across the ground, dancing in the water near them. Clouds were painted varying shades of pink, ringed by bright, golden light. Water lapped softly against the edge of the bridge, the wind slowly picking up. Thunder placed her pickaxe on the wood next to her, swinging her legs over the side. The water was cold, almost shockingly so against her bare feet, and the night was slowly encroaching on them. She could just hear the call of a phantom starting to prowl the sky and the low, baritone moan of a zombie. The gurgle of a drowned and the skittering of a nearby spider. Danger, reasons to go home.

Marina plonked down next to her, giving her a smile, turning to watch the sunset. Fierce, burning happiness sparked through her, from her freezing toes to her stomach, to her heart and head. Things might be a bit messy and may not be okay, but she was so fucking glad to be here. To be tired after a long day's work, with a friend next to her, enjoying one of the best sunsets she'd seen in a long time. Once the sun had set, the sky a deep, indigo purple, she'd stood up, offering Marina a hand. They'd made their way back to town, parting ways with a soft goodbye. It seemed… wrong, almost, to disturb this strange feeling of peace.

It would take a few days of work to finish the road. But she slept easier that night.

[nad-zeta]

Hello, hello, hello! I loved your head canons about the warlords' ages and I wonder if you can write head canons of the warlords' profession, not in modern AU but the warlords deciding to go to the future with MC and well, the profession they would have!! Thank you so muuuuuuuuuch. 💕

Hi hi, love! 🌻Thank you sooo much for the ask! This is legit my third time writing this up, the first time I did this, I forgot to save the word file, and the second time my laptop crashed right after I finished writing it😭....... But finally, here it is🌻! I’m so happy you liked my HC, I hope you enjoy this one, and I hope you have a good day! ❤🔥

Headcanon: Warlords and their future jobs 

Nobunaga

I think the second Nobunaga arrives in the future he would become a businessman

He would start off small from your apartment, but within the month he will turn into the biggest corporate leader, having thousands of people working under him

He would spend the first few weeks just chilling in the future with you but soon start to get bored

He would also, low key feel like its wrong for you to be supporting both of you

He does some research on stock trading and then starts playing around with your life savings

Good thing for you, Nobunaga is a clever man, and he manages to triple the money in a week by playing around on the stock market

He uses the income made, to start a small business, which soon starts growing at the speed of light

This man will not be able to work for someone so I can definitely see him being the CEO of his own company

He will be the ruler of the corporate world in no time

It’s pretty funny how in the span of a year he has earned the old name he once carried in the past “Devil king.”

Masamune

This is a no brainer

Obviously he will be a chef

I think he would start off small like finding a job at a local café but then soon take the culinary world by storm

It started off when the two of you went to eat at one of your favourite cafes

He enjoyed the food so much, he couldn’t help but pop into the kitchen to thank the chef (◕‿◕✿)

The kitchen was absolute mayhem and the chef had told him that he was very short-staffed

And that is how Masa got his first future job

He worked in the café for a few months picking up experience and learning to use all the futuristic equipment

From there, he bounced around from place to place learning all sorts of cool culinary techniques

I think at the end of the day he will most likely open his own restaurant

One that specializes in authentic Japanese cuisine

Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if he opened a branch of the restaurant in Nobunagas company

Mitsunari

I can see this cutie angel being a teacher or professor

I think he would be a great academic and educator

I can actually, see this boi being a professor teaching all sorts of subjects from statistics to the art of war ヾ(●ε●)ノ

The first few weeks of being in the future with you, he spends in the library absorbing as much knowledge as possible

One day while he is sitting and reading up on every and any subject, he overhears a group of struggling professors at a nearby table

Apparently they had been trying to solve a certain equation for months now but to no luck (ﾉಠдಠ)ﾉ︵┻━┻

Mitsunari walks up to the group and cheerily asks if he can be of some assistance (◕ᴗ◕✿)

Usually the group would just laugh and chase the random stranger away but desperate times…

They hand Mitsunari the equation and this clever boi takes one look at it and starts writing out the answer

The math professors were sister shook… Like he didn’t even freaken, need a calculator (◯Δ◯∥)

They legit offered him a job as a lecturer and he soon becomes the students’ favourite absent minded professor (◕‿◕✿)

I think he will most definitely also publish a few research papers as well and contribute to the body of knowledge in all sorts of subjects

Ieyasu

Also super easy he will either be a vet or a doctor although I am leaning more towards veterinarian cause of his love for animals

He will most likely join Mitsunari in university, cause he is a super-smart porcupine he will become a certified vet in no time

Also spends the first few weeks of being in the future at the library absorbing as much medical knowledge as possible

He gets the idea of becoming a vet after watching a bunch of animal rescue shows on the national geographic channel 

While you are at work he starts volunteering at an animal rescue during the day to pass the time

That is where he met one of the vets that help out at the rescue in their free time, he legit liked Ieyasu so much he took him on as an apprentice, while Ieyasu was busy completing his studies

Later on he will most likely have his own veterinary practise

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he starts his own animal rescue on the side as well

Within two years the two of you move to live on a big plot with all yours and Ieyasus rescued pets

Hideyoshi

Hideyoshi could go one of two ways hehe 

If Nobunaga comes to the future with yall then you best be sure this boy is ganna help Nobunaga rule the corporate world

Buuuut if it’s just the two of you, I 100% see him becoming a primary school teacher

Like he would just be so good with kids

He is basically trademarked as mama hen anyways, so why not put him in a primary school to teach lil chics

I think he would be such a good teacher, supportive, kind, and patient

He has enough practise lecturing Nobunaga for bad behaviour, so he might as well put that to good use correcting the behaviours of troublesome kids

He gets into teaching when your sister drops her kid off at your apartment to babysit

You had work, so the only one that could care for the child was, the mother hen himself

He sat and taught the little boy how to read and write, this impressed your sister so much that she recommended him for the position of substitute English teacher at her child’s school

At first Hideyoshi worked as a substitute teacher, but soon he became the designated aftercare teacher and within a few months he was teaching his own class

The children absolutely adored him although they would sneak behind the school building to eat candy cause, they didn’t want to get yet another lecture from Yoshi on the negative health consequences of their favourite sugary treats

Mitsuhide

100% detective (¬‿¬)

I mean can you just imagine how sexy he would look in a trenchcoat… like OMW (づ￣ ³￣)づ

The first few weeks of spending time with you in the future you introduce him to CSI and Law and order and he is super fascinated

You are so amazed by the fact that he can figure out who the perp is 5 minutes into the show

The crime in your neighbourhood was pretty bad, but since Mitsuhide’s arrival something crazy happened 

The crime seemed to disappear. 

Like no more robberies, no more drunks walking up and down the street, just peaceful quiet calm neighbourhood 

One day as the two of you were buying snacks for your CSI bingeing session, two armed men came into the convenience store 

You looked over at your lover who seemed completely unphased, like one of the robbers were legit pointing a gun in his face, yet Mitsuhide looked uninterested

Within a blink of an eye, Mitushide managed to disarm the men and tie them up 

The police were hella impressed with the way Mitsuhide handled things 

He helped the police department solve a few petty crimes in your neighbourhood and soon they started calling him up, to help them crack some difficult cases

After a while he becomes the most famous and popular detective in town

The government low key recruits him as an agent to help them

Kenshin

Again I don’t see Kenshin working for anyone

I think the first few weeks the two of you arrive, bunnies start following him around

Looks like the bunny lord is never safe from the love of the cute fluffy creatures 

The two of you will definitely be living on a bunny farm

Kenshin, although he doesn’t admit it, has a soft spot for the cute fluffy creatures 

So the bunny farm is actually more of a bunny rescue although that’s just his part-time job

As he adapts to the future, I can see the farm transforming into being a bunny and sake farm

Lol Kenshin loves Sake so much 

He knows how good sake should taste, so naturally he starts to make his own and sell it

This starts one day when a friend of yours invites the two of you to a sake tasting

The instructor was so impressed with Kenshin’s keen sense of taste that they got to talking and before Kenshin knew it, he had two people willing to sponsor him, to start his own sake brand

Naturally he never backs down from a challenge

He actually goes on to become the largest Sake producer and bunny rescue

Yukimura

I can legit see this boy doing something active like being a firefighter or gym instructor- cause lets be real this boi is ripped

Or actually maybe both

The first few weeks of being in the future he managed to save 2 peoples lives by fearlessly running in a burning building

The firefighters were legit so impressed they decided to take him on as an intern

He got some of the perks, i.e. free gym membership to stay fit

That’s when he started giving out a few pieces of advice to the people around him

“Like seriously dummy, don’t you even know how to do a proper squat, u legit ganna hurt your back if ya keep doing it like that.”

The members of the gym appreciated his advice so much, some of them started paying him to become their instructor, and soon the gym decided to hire him part-time

Now when Yuki isn't running into burning buildings saving people he is training people in the gym 

Best be sure he is gonna drag you to the gym with him

Shingen

Hehe I’ll admit I’m not too sure what this boi would get up to in the future

I think the first few weeks will be spent with you just adapting and getting to know everything

I think he would continue on with his carpentry

He kinda starts to notice your apartment is furnished in super cheap furniture

You tell him you are just a student in this time and don’t really have money to buy anything fancy

He buys a few cheap pieces of wood and starts furnishing your apartment with the most beautifully crafted furniture

Some of your friends visit the two of you and notice the remarkable craftsmanship and start commissioning him to make them some furniture

After a while he becomes the best carpenter in town

Goes on to open up a shop selling the different furniture he makes

I can see him hiring people in need, and that need a fresh start and then teaching them the trade to be able to make something of themselves

I can also see him volunteering at rescues and fostering bear cubs cause he misses his so much

I hope you enjoyed this dear and thanks again for the ask! ❤❤🔥🌻

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Detours on the Road so Far - Ch 1

Detours on the Road so Far

- Or - 

Why Sam and Dean Need Actual Adult Supervision

Summary: Shenanigans. Lots of them. Crack. Probably some pie. (SERIES SUMMARY)

Warning: Shenanigans. Unintentional drug use. Crackfic. 

Rating: Let’s call this one at least Teen, if not Mature. See Warning above.

Word Count: 1700-ish

Author’s Note: THIS IS CRACK: unapologetically, unequivocally, utterly crack. Some of it makes little sense. Some of it makes fun of our favorite characters. I love these guys; this is just for fun. The stories are not in any particular order. Time frames will be referenced at the beginning of each chapter. Also, I was having some formatting issues, so if this ends up looking really wonky, please let me know, and I’ll do what I can.

This story is dedicated to a wonderful friend who let me behind the scenes into their writing process and watch the development of a wonderful story, a friend who fiercely has their folks’ backs and is the first on the scene if support and flails are needed. To a writer who can write action, romance, intrigue, and brothers being brothers. @stunudo​ , I am so glad I met you, and even gladder you didn’t absolutely fire me for all the awful puns.

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 1: Everything is Awesome (set sometime in season 8...ish)

Sam yawns as he shuffles down the hall, scratching the back of his head and grinning to himself. It still amazes him, even after the months they’ve been here, to have an actual home and comfortable bed to come back to after their days and weeks on the road. Even the hours crammed in the car with his brother and his painfully slow evolution of music is more bearable, knowing there are clean sheets, peace (relative peace, anyway) and quiet, and their very own refrigerator waiting for them at the other end.

He pauses as a new sound drifts towards him from the kitchen, and he frowns. It’s not a bad sound, exactly; he knows exactly what it is. But Dean doesn’t tend to sing this early in the morning, and not ever in the kitchen. It’s not the most wrong thing Sam has ever heard, but it’s strange enough for him to take notice.

Well, he can’t be possessed, so...hex bag, maybe? Their last case in Colorado didn’t involve witches, but there was always the chance they’d run across one without realizing and pissed him or her off somehow.

Dammit.

 He cautiously enters the kitchen, hoping that he’s just assuming worst case scenario. He is greeted by the sight of Dean seated at the table, staring intently at a large, clear glass coffee mug as he adds creamer to the steaming brew. 

“Morning,” Sam says, stretching. Dean waves distractedly, his concentration focused entirely on his coffee. At least that part is normal. He doesn’t usually add creamer, but it’s not unheard of, so Sam simply shrugs as he turns to the fridge. 

At least the singing stopped, or (better yet) maybe he just imagined it in the first place. Maybe he just hadn’t been fully awake yet. Sam opens the refrigerator, his eyes already moving over the contents to find something for breakfast that won’t add to Dean’s cholesterol issues his older brother tacitly refuses to acknowledge.

Except there aren’t any contents to peruse. The entire refrigerator is completely empty. Not even a wrapper.

 He turns back to Dean, the questions dying on his tongue as he watches his brother continue to add creamer to his coffee, dark brown and beige swirling in the clear mug. Dean finally sets the creamer down, watching the coffee cup as if he’s been interrogating it and it’s finally about to break.

 “Sammy,” he says, his eyes glued to the mug, “we are never using anything but clear coffee cups again. This shit is magic.”

 What?

“Seriously, Sam,” he continues, his eyes lit with pure, childlike innocence and curiosity. “It just...it mixes itself. Food doesn’t do things to itself, Sam. I mean, yeah, Jell-O moves by itself, but no other food does that. But Jell-O is evil, anyway, so yeah. Wait, except for Jell-O shots. Jell-O shots are awesome. But otherwise, Jell-O is a slime creature sent by Eve to torment small children into thinking they’re getting a real dessert when it’s really just ectoplasm’s third cousin. Twice removed.”

 And then Dean giggles.

 Sam stares at his brother, his jaw hanging down, absolutely clueless as to how to proceed. First, Dean has never said that many words together in his entire life. Second, what the fuck? Third, what. The. Ever. Living. Fuck.

 Dean adds more creamer.

 “I think...I think that’s enough, Dean. You’re going to spill your coffee.”

 Horror washes over Dean’s face, and he slams the creamer container on the table, dropping down to eye his coffee along the top edge. “Sacrilege! I wouldn’t do that, Sam, you know I’d never waste coffee like that!”

 Sam knows he needs to close his mouth at some point, but it’s just too damned early to go with the flow on this shit.

 “Dean, are you feeling okay? I know we got back pretty late last night, but you’re acting a little off.” But his brother isn’t acting tired, not exactly. Sam realizes that his brother is also still wearing yesterday’s traveling clothes.

 “Dean, did you sleep in your clothes?”

 Dean reaches out a finger and slowly pokes his coffee mug. The cream swirls lightly through the dark liquid, further mixing the two, and Dean...giggles.

 Again.

 “It’s kinda sad when they finally get all mixed together,” he says, frowning a little. Then his face brightens as he grabs the mug. “But now I can drink it, so that's less sad, right? I mean, you can’t really be sad drinking coffee, Sam. You should drink more coffee; you’ll be less sad all the time.”

 Sam’s jaw clenches involuntarily as he watches Dean alternate between sips and sloshing the cup around to watch the contents. His brother is obviously not in any distress, but spells have started out like this before, seemingly harmless and then, before you know it, hearts are exploding or organs disintegrate or something else equally nasty.

 “I can hear the colors, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, tapping the mug gently. “I think...what, would you say? Beige? Ecru? Does it sound like ecru to you?”

 Sam was unaware Dean even knew those colors existed, much less how to pronounce them. Luckily, since Dean is wearing yesterday’s clothes, it makes looking for the hex bag easier. After two unsuccessful attempts to get Dean to go through his own pockets (“But the coffee isn’t in my pockets, Sam, it’s in my hands. Why the hell would I put down the coffee to look through my pockets?”) Sam gives up with a sigh that holds the burdens of the world in it and searches his brother’s clothes himself.

 “Knock if off! That tickles; you’re gonna make me spill the coffee!”

 For fuck’s sake.

 His search proves frustratingly fruitless. But if the hex bag isn’t on Dean, then what? A spell? A curse? What the hell is going on?

 Sam’s stomach growls, adding another question to the long list. Where the hell is all the food? Well, that, at least, he can ask Dean and maybe get a straight answer.

 “Dean, do you know why the fridge is empty? It was pretty stocked when we left. Where’d all the food go?”

 Dean grins and points down at the stomach of his shirt, which is a bit rounder than normal. “In mah belleh.”

 When Sam’s face finally emerges from his palms, he finds Dean staring at him with alarming concern.

 “Are you hungry, Sam? We can go to town and get breakfast! That would be awesome, breakfast is awesome! Do you want pancakes or waffles? Nevermind, you’re huge, you should eat both. You need to eat more, Sam, you’re too skinny.”

 “Seriously, dude, are you feeling okay? You’re acting...weird.”

 “You know what’s weird, Sammy? I ate two pies, a block of cheese, and all those protein bar things you hide in the back of the pantry. And by the way, you don’t need to hide those things from me anymore, they are absolutely vile. But then I had those bags of chips, and...what else. Oh, yeah, there was some bologna, I think, and I ate the bacon, and whatever was in the vegetable drawer, which actually ended up not being horrible. But I’m still kinda hungry.”

 Sam is speechless. It doesn’t happen often, but apparently it can still happen, even after all these decades of living with his brother. He just can’t wrap his head around-

 Wait, what pie?

 “Dean, we didn’t have any pie before we left, and we didn’t stop on the way home yesterday. What pie did you eat?”

 “Sarah gave me two pies as a thank you. It would have been rude not to eat them. I had a piece last night after you crashed, and it was -awesome- so I had another piece, and then I had to try the other pie, and it was friggin delicious, and then I looked up and some asshole had eaten the rest of both the pies.” He eyes Sam suspiciously for a minute, clutching his coffee mug a little closer to himself.

 “And then I got hungry, so I had a snack.”

 “What was in the pies, Dean?”

 “Dunno,” he says, slurping coffee obnoxiously loudly. “Deliciousness. Sarah didn't say what kind they were, just said they were her way of saying thanks for getting rid of the ghost. Called it her ‘University of Colorado Specials’ or something like that. But those pies were made of magic, Sam, delicious, delicious magic.”

“What else did Sarah say, Dean?”

The elder Winchester thinks long and hard for a moment, frowning. “She didn’t. She winked a lot, though. Do you think she had something stuck in her eye?”

 Sam leans on his hands to keep from using them on his brother. He takes a deep, steadying breath and tries again.

 “Can you tell me anything else about the pies, Dean? Anything at all?”

 He thinks for a long moment, then his face melts into a dreamy expression Sam is pretty sure he’s never seen on his brother’s face before. “One of ‘em was this lemon thing that was like a citrus tree starred in a porn. The flavor just explodes in your mouth like-”

 “I don’t need to know!”

 But Dean is still going.

 “A firecracker, Sam, a Roman Candle of delicious. And the other was this...chocolatey, coffee, creamy thing. Coffee, Sam! Coffee and chocolate in a pie! They can do that now! What’ll these crazy college kids think of next?”

 He grins at Sam, taking another long slurp of coffee. Sam bites his lip, considering Dean for a long silent moment. He’s pretty sure now that Dean will be just fine and more than likely back to normal by the end of the day...maybe.

 “I’m gonna go check in with Sarah. Just make sure she hasn’t...erm...seen anything else weird.”

 “But, Sam, we ghosted that ghost!” Dean stops, thinks about what he just said, and giggles.

 Again.

 “I just want to see...how much...we ghosted that ghost. And maybe get the recipes for those pies. I’m sure everything’s fine. You know me, I just like to be sure.”

 “That’s awesome, Sam, you’re so awesome! We could make the pies together! And you could even eat some! You still need to eat more. Can we go get breakfast now?”

 Sigh.

 “Yeah, Dean. We’ll go get breakfast. I’ll call Sarah on the way.”

 Dean grins, his whole face lighting up, and Sam allows himself to see at least a little humor in the situation.

 And then Dean starts singing that song from the damned Lego movie, and Sam. 

Just. 

Can’t.

[davidmann95]

Comics this week (12/16/2020)?

Iron Man #4: Still good! Every issue I remain surprised that this is staying good, and yet it does!

The Immortal Hulk #41: A real good revisitation from a completely different angle of the ‘here’s why regular superheroes can’t fix what’s going on here’ thread from way back in #7, and god between this and Empyre Ewing writes such a perfect Ben Grimm.

King In Black: The Immortal Hulk: Surprised this didn’t end up a direct follow-up on the dangling thread left behind from the Absolute Carnage tie-in, but this was excellent so I’m not complaining.

Solid Blood #17: A new Robert Kirkman comic (joined by Ryan Ottley) announced right before its release like Die! Die! Die! before it, this one has the added gimmick of dropping its seventeenth issue with no preamble. The actual comic...well, the actual comic is basically 1963 for the 90s in the most fun way (it’s even printed on authentically fitting paper stock!), but the seeds of something much stranger are established and I have almost no clue what to expect next, quite literally. It must be nice to have that sort of fuck-you Walking Dead money, and I’m glad Kirkman’s choosing to do something as weird and interesting as this with it.

We Live #3: This one felt somewhat disjointed, but still an excellent experience.

Stillwater #4: I cannot believe I’m getting and enjoying so many horror comics on a regular basis now.

Once & Future #14: I keep saying I’m appreciating and decently enjoying this book while not connecting with it, but maybe it is winning me over.

We Only Find Them When They’re Dead #4: Get this book.

Decorum #6: I swear to god this series might be the prettiest comic of all time.

Commanders in Crisis #3: I didn’t review this one for AIPT, but this one’s a bit of a bridge between the first two issues tonally, both as grounded and as weird as the book has been thus far. I’m ready for it to return to something more bombastic, but I still have zero doubt this is going to be an all-timer when it wraps. No character interview with Ritesh Babu on AIPT this month, BUT in its place @deathchrist2000 has interviewed Prizefigher for Comic Book Herald on the subject of an in-universe James Bond novel written by Steven Moffat, and it rules.

Second Coming: Only Begotten Son #1: To borrow a line from @deathchrist2000, that sure is the death of Krypton as portrayed by the writer of The Flintstones. That’s the opposite of a complaint for me, but that’s sure what it is.

Superman #28: Kind of a perfect ending to Bendis’s tenure, in that it ends up totally whiffing some great ideas even if you can only mind so much given the quality of the character insight with the narration, but then there’s a Superman Moment so perfect it breaks your heart. Very glad Bendis will keep writing him in his half-announced Justice League with Marquez, and that he said today he’ll keep writing him elsewhere as well (I continue to assume he’s working on a Future State-era Jon as Superman book). Let’s see how well Action can put even more of a bow on it next week even with that art holding it back.

Batman #105: Does the ending here totally make sense? Ehhh. Am I willing to forgive any lapses in logic that get us way more Ghost-Maker? Hell yes. Speaking of which, he and Bruce totally used to be a thing off-panel, right? That’s the vibe I got from the opening in a BIG way.

Catwoman #28: I’ve been saying I’ve been loving it but also been waiting for what it looks like when it gets out from under Brubaker’s shadow, and I think I’m starting to see it, and it’s definitely my jam.

The Batman’s Grave #12: So someone either didn’t see or didn’t care that I explained I had already checked with my store to ensure my purchase of this wouldn’t result in any money going to Warren Ellis, so they messaged me spoilers for the ending of the issue in an attempt to ‘dissuade me’ from any further interest. A. Wherever the motives there are coming from, incredible dick move, for the love of god don’t do this. B. They misunderstood what happened in the ending? Wild. Anyway, it’s fine but also Ellis’s fourth-best Batman comic, strange if not at all undeserved that his now presumed/hopeful final Big Two comic, intended as a huge prestige Batman perennial (still confused why it wasn’t Black Label) and sure to forever be pushed as such if not for outside circumstances, ended up one of his passable third-tier works, destined to be remembered only as “that Batman comic DC had to finish publishing even after it turned out Warren Ellis was a piece of shit”.

Rorschach #3: Standard policy regarding my comments on this series applying: it was good.

Dark Nights: Death Metal #6: This one...kinda blew? Totally perfunctory moving-the-pieces into place issue for the most part, one or two nice moments aside. What a disappointing capstone to a story from 2017 to now I largely loved, hope it at least delivers a few haymakers with the finale.

Tales of the Dark Multiverse: Crisis on Infinite Earths: Mixed feelings. The beginning and ending are the sort of slaughter in mass of super-dopes without fanfare and on such a scale that it reminds me of World’s Funnest doing the exact same scenes for comedy, but that middle chunk? By god, Orlando makes me give a shit about the JSA, and that’s no mean feat, plus nice to see him write a few great Superman bits on his way out the door. Speaking of which, I’m mainly parsing this issue as an expression of Orlando’s bitterness over said exit and his time with DC as a comic about a big swaggering puffed-up dumbass living for destruction before whom our heroes our powerless, and a man has to sacrifice himself for a queer kid in servitude to it so that they can have a future and keep building that world. I liked it in balance, but I think I found it more interesting than good.

(Since I’m mentioning two Orlando books in here, worth noting I read this week his and Ricardo López Ortiz’s The Pull on Comixology. I’m not clear if it was released in single issues - I can’t quite wrap my head around TKO’s publishing model - but it’s basically an unholy mash between shonen manga, grungy noir crime comics, and a Crisis, and it rules and you should get it.)

The Green Lantern Season Two #10: What a strange, messy, fascinating capstone to Morrison’s DC work this series has turned out to be, and holy cow how has this been Liam Sharp lately? When did he get on this amazing Frazer Irving shit? And how is Ultrawar gonna happen and be resolved entirely within #12, unless it goes for a more abstract “The Ultrawar was really inside us all along!” conclusion?