#they are so lame but i want them to adopt me

[shitpostingsterek]

i had to make it, and you know it.

[swagging-back-to]

worst trope is found family separating as soon as the antagonist is dealt with.

[freelancearsonist]

every breath you take

➔ (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader

➔ 5.3k words

➔ Your dad is getting married to his soulmate and you have every intention of making it the perfect day. The only kink in your plan is your unexpected feelings for your soon-to-be stepdad’s best man.

➔ Rated MA // BILL X FRANK SUPREMACY. LONG LIVE BILL X FRANK. no outbreak, age gap (reader is early 20s, Joel is 45), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, fingering (reader receiving), references to masturbation (reader), pussy pronouns, pet names // reader has female anatomy (no body description but is generally able-bodied) and uses feminine pronouns, is Frank’s adopted daughter (written for all skin tones), wears makeup and a dress, has hair (unspecified length)

➔ Big big thank you to @sugarcoated-lame and @sunlightmurdock for this idea and letting me run with it (sorry it took 5 months 😂) this is psuedo-inspired by my own current activities as my best friend's moh which is why i haven't been super active in the past month or so, thank you to everyone for being so patient with me <33

June, 2013.

After months of planning—stress, sweat, and tears abounding—the big night is here. Well, almost here. The actual wedding is tomorrow, but tonight is the rehearsal dinner; and as your adoptive dad has spent the entire preparatory period impressing upon you, the rehearsal might be even more important than the wedding itself.

With that in mind, you arrive at the venue a few hours early to assist with the set up. Seeing the unassembled pieces and parts of the event brings a smile to your face and a determination to your soul–you want this to be perfect. 

Someone else shares your determination, too.

You would’ve sworn, when you first met him, that an elaborate wedding would be the very last thing Bill would want. And yet this has been as much his planning as it has been your dad’s. It brings so much joy to your heart that your dad has found someone who matches him so completely. You couldn’t be happier for them; and at the same time, you couldn’t be more frustrated for yourself. Because, as dedicated as you are to making this day perfect for them, Bill’s best man and long-time friend is maybe even more dedicated. He’s been turning this wedding into a ‘friendly’ competition between the two of you, trying to one-up you at every opportunity he gets. It’s infuriating—especially when he wears that smug grin that’s become his signature expression around you. It’s torture, too, because all you want to do is kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.

It’s unintentional on his part, you’re sure, but the tension is palpable enough to slice with a butter knife nonetheless. Today is no exception—he’s dressed for labor in worn jeans that are just a little too tight around his thighs and a faded Iron Maiden shirt that hugs his strong biceps. His hair is ruffled like he’s been tugging and running his hands through it, and it puts all kinds of indecent thoughts into your brain.

It’s wrong. The guy’s old enough to be your dad, and that’s aside from the fact that he’s your soon-to-be-stepdad’s best man. No self-respecting young woman should be looking at a guy who’s old enough to remember the Nixon administration the way you are right now. And yet…

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he says in that drawl of his which makes you want to throw your sanity out the window and fall at his feet to worship the very ground he walks on.

You’ve never hated Joel Miller more than you do right now. 

Regardless, you greet him with the sweetest smile you can muster. “Good morning. I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Well, rehearsal’s as important as the weddin’ itself,” he dutifully repeats the line that you’ve heard from your dad a million times over. “And this barn ain’t gonna decorate itself.”

“Well, that’s kinda my job,” you remind him, hoping your tone sounds more annoyed to him than it does to you. 

He flashes that boyish smile that no middle-aged man should be able to master, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

You want to grumble about it. You want to be annoyed by this goofy-ass forty-five year old man and his stupid competitive streak. Instead, your mouth betrays you by smiling. “I appreciate the help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He punctuates it with a wink, and you consider just falling onto the ground and perishing. Instead, you roll up your shirt sleeves and get to work.

The fruits of your labor are well worth the effort they take. You feel a heady sense of pride when you look around at all the decor–as long as this barn has been a wedding venue, you’re certain no one’s ever made it look this good before.

The tables are arranged neatly in rows, draped with luxurious white tablecloths and topped with neat arrangements of greenery in the centers. The seating chart that Bill and Frank worked so meticulously on is put into effect with hand-written placards designating each chair to an occupant. Strings of white globe lights hang from the rafters and cast a hazy, reverent glow over the entire barn. Everything is the perfect mix of modern and rustic.

Outside on the lawn, rows of neatly arranged chairs line a petal-scattered aisle. Everything leads to the focal point–an eight-foot high arch wrapped generously in green vines and white blossoms. It’s definitely the highlight of the entire thing, which irks you just the slightest bit–it was solely Joel’s vision. Apparently, he’s a lot more artistic than you’ve ever given him credit for. It tracks, you suppose; construction is an artform if you really think about it. He uses his hands to create just like a sculptor, but to a larger scale. And those hands are capable; you’ve seen exactly how much they can move or carry and you wonder if they could–

You shake off that train of thought before it can go any further. If you can’t get yourself under control you’re going to start wearing a rubberband on your wrist that you can snap every time your thoughts about Joel stray into the ‘things you shouldn’t be thinking about a middle-aged man’ category.

He certainly has aged like fine wine for a forty-five-year-old man, though…

Snap.

With a sigh, you give your head a shake in hopes of clearing your mind and take a look down at your watch. You’ve finished with perfect timing–you’ve got about two hours to go home and get cleaned up before you have to be back for the rehearsal dinner.

You look for Joel for a few moments before leaving, but he’s nowhere to be found. It puzzles you a little bit that he wouldn’t at least say goodbye before leaving, but then again he really doesn’t have to answer to you. It’s a well-needed wake up call, a reminder that your feelings–can whatever you’re going through really be called that?–your attraction, is one-sided. He’s here for Bill and Frank, not for you. You’re his best friend’s daughter and nothing more, and the realization washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

You hate the way it sends you spiraling on the drive home. You hate the way you care so much about what he might think of you. You hate the way that you have to look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a stern talking-to about needing to let this whole stupid crush go. You hate the way that you can’t even pretend the extra layer of mascara you apply isn’t for him.

You avoid Joel the entire night, which isn’t easy to do. You have to walk down the aisle next to him during the ceremony rehearsal but you avoid his eye contact, taking a twisted little satisfaction in the way he frowns when all of your replies to his chit chat are short and clipped. Dinner is easier–both Frank and Bill sit between you and Joel, so there’s no attempted conversation to deflect from him. But you could almost swear you feel his eyes on you, as if he’s looking right through your dad and soon-to-be-stepdad.

Joel is puzzled, to put it simply. One second, he’s got you in the palm of his hand. Then a moment later, you’re looking at him like you might look at a bug you stepped on and got stuck to your shoe.

He puts it out of mind as much as he can. He’s not supposed to be looking at you like that, after all. He’s not supposed to be admiring the perfectly kissable curve of your shoulder or the biteable expanse of your neck. He’s definitely not supposed to be wondering what you’re wearing under that adorable dress of yours. You’re his best friend’s daughter, for god’s sake. You’re so far off limits that he shouldn’t even be looking in your general direction.

But he is. He’s looking, and he can’t stop looking. And most of all, he can’t stop wondering if you feel it too.

Evidently you don’t, because you won’t even take his arm as you practice walking up the aisle in preparation for the big day tomorrow. You’ve probably figured out how much he’s been thinking about you and the kinds of things he’s been thinking, and you’re disgusted. He’s just a dirty old man to you, surely.

Little does Joel know that you come on your fingers moaning his name practically as soon as you’re through the door of your hotel room that night. You fall asleep before you can feel too ashamed about it–blissfully unaware that Joel’s doing the same exact thing just a few doors down.

You wake up in the morning with much more clarity than you usually have, especially at 9AM.

No matter what, today is about Bill and Frank. You get to be part of a true love story, the kind that your dad used to read about to you in bedtime stories when you were a little girl. That knowledge steadies your mind more than anything else ever could.

You jump into the shower and try your best to tame your unruly hair before shuffling down to the dining area on the ground floor of the hotel. 

Bill and Frank really spared no expense on this place. All the food is fresh and hot, replenished every few minutes. It smells incredible–there’s overlapping waves of pastries, sausages, eggs, and fruits. It’s almost overwhelming; there’s way too many options.

After you pile up a plate with as much as your stomach can comfortably handle, you make your way over to the table your father occupies by himself.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he says through a mouthful of cantaloupe.

“Decided to sleep in a little,” you explain. “Where’s Bill?”

“He already had breakfast, he’s getting ready,” Frank explains. “Joel made out a whole schedule for us, put us on different shifts so we don’t see each other before the wedding. It’s bad luck, after all.”

You snort through a bite of biscuits and gravy, because that’s such a characteristically Joel thing to do. From what you know of him, he thrives with routine and function–you’re surprised he doesn’t have you working off of a schedule, too.

A small, annoying part of your brain thinks it’s really adorable that Joel plays into that whole superstition. Another, more sensible part tells you that nothing Joel does is adorable and you’ve really got to stop thinking about him so much.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, looking up at your dad through a bite of blueberry muffin.

“Relieved, honestly,” he admits with a chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. “I finally get to marry my best friend today, with my other best friend by my side.”

You hide the way the comment makes you choke up behind another bite of your breakfast.

There have been a lot of times where you’ve gone unwanted in your life; starting right at birth, continuing with unrequited crushes and lost friendships. But one person has always wanted you and been there for you through thick and thin. Frank picks you up every time no matter how hard you fall, and you feel so unbelievably lucky to be in his life. 

If anyone deserves a fairytale ending, it’s Frank. He always puts the people he cares about first, and now it’s his turn to shine. You’re not letting anything get in the way of that–especially not stupid, unrequited feelings for the best man.

With a little more resolve in your mind, it’s easier to get ready for the main event.

Every step of your preparation has been immaculately planned over the course of months. From your dress to your make-up, to your hair, not one detail has been overlooked. It takes you more than an hour to get ready–but when you’re ready, you’re a vision. Even though you’re not normally the type to enjoy looking into the mirror, you have to admit to yourself that you look stunning. 

Your traitorous brain wonders if Joel will think the same. 

With a heavy sigh, you grab your bag and your car keys. You really wish you had a way to shut those intruding little wishful thoughts off–they’re doing more harm than good at this point. 

You take a deep breath, shove as much as you can down, and resolve to have a good time celebrating your dads–then you open the door and set out towards an unforgettable night.

Whatever kind of shock and awe you were hoping to inspire in Joel, it’s surely nothing compared to the rush you feel as you find him in the bridal party lounge.

You’ve never seen him quite so put together. He’s normally a bit undone–a symptom of being a long-time bachelor–but today, he’s perfectly styled. The hair he’s been growing out is slicked back into gorgeous curls, his black tuxedo pants hug his hips like a dream. He’s in the process of fastening the last two buttons on his impeccable white dress shirt and every bone in your body screams to stop him–to keep that peek of his tanned chest on display for your hungry eyes.

You have a fearful moment of thinking you actually made the request aloud, because he does stop in his tracks when his eyes land on you. His lips part in shock and his pupils dilate and he freezes. Fingers that were once absentmindedly completing their task drop to his sides as he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like “wow.”

“Need help?” You offer before you can think better of it.

There’s a long moment of tense silence, and then he nods silently.

Your mouth is dry as you approach him, trying desperately to keep your cool. Your clammy palms are definitely not the most qualified to complete this task for him, but you can’t back down now. With a deep breath–you’re so close now that it fills your nose with the spicy, intoxicating scent of his cologne–you will your hands to stay steady and reach for his shirt buttons.

His lead tongue finally remembers how to work as you fasten the first button. “You look… incredible.”

“So do you,” you whisper. Just when you think you’re out of the woods, ready to step back and breathe properly again, his hand comes up to offer you a bow tie.

“This too?” His warm brown eyes search yours–how could he ever expect you to say no?

“Y-yeah. Sure.” You turn the collar of his shirt up, then carefully fasten the tie around his neck. The band is perfectly configured to his neck, the bow already tied–all you have to do is secure a hook through a loop. He could’ve easily done this himself; and yet he didn’t. He wanted you to do this, and that particular bit of knowledge sends a rush of heat burning through your veins. 

Maybe this whole song and dance isn’t quite as unrequited as you originally thought.

Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and it’s like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. You’ve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again.

You’re done with your task, yet you can’t bring yourself to step away. He doesn’t either–for seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. You’re going to kiss him, just lean in a little further and–

The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.

“There you are!” Frank’s got an untamable smile on his face–his hair is impeccably gelled back, his white tuxedo tailored to fit like a glove. The sight of him, so close to everything he’s ever wanted, brings tears to your eyes. “Wow, you two look amazing.”

“Hey. Thanks.” You’re fighting with all your strength to keep your voice even and calm despite the compliment. The reality of your father’s happily ever after comes crashing in and you’ve never felt so proud. “First look time?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. “Is Bill–?”

“Dressin’,” Joel answers after clearing his throat. “I’ll bring ’im out when he’s done.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Frank takes your hand to lead you outside, but not before you look over your shoulder at Joel. He looks thoroughly disheveled despite his sharp appearance–you’ve gotten under his skin. Good.

Thank god for waterproof make-up because you nearly lose your whole face during the first look. Not that you’re wearing much, but it’s enough that it’s jeopardized by the tears your treacherous eyes shed despite trying in vain to will them away.

You’ve never been so happy for two people before. You’ve never seen two people more in love. In their matching white tuxes, with their matching watery eyes, as they turn to greet each other for the first time today, you know that Bill and Frank are a forever thing. It brings you a sense of peace that you never knew was possible.

At some point, you become conscious of the fact that you’re holding Joel’s hand. You know you probably shouldn’t, that you could get both of you in serious trouble–but he’s not pulling away, so neither do you.

The true test of your mascara comes during the ceremony–it passes the test with flying colors, which is truly impressive considering the tsunami it has to hold up against. You’ve never really been a wedding cryer, although you suppose no one would blame you for this one. You’re hardly the only person walking away with tissues to their eyes. Bill and Frank have loved so hard and fought for so long in order to obtain this day–it’s nothing short of incredible to see them finally seal their union with vows.

Before the reception, you pop into the bridal lounge to make sure you’re still presentable. A couple tissues later and you’re good to go, but the sound of the door opening and the lock clicking into place stops you in your tracks.

Joel’s standing there, looking like a dream. Curls slightly disheveled from the wind, top two buttons of his shirt undone with his bowtie hanging out of his jacket pocket. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, albeit not as bad as yours.

His breath seems to catch when he sees you–he clears his throat before whispering, “Hey.”

For a long moment, your tongue is too heavy to speak. Every ounce of desire from earlier comes rushing back in a flash flood of emotion. It’s just you and him and tension so palpable you could grab ahold of it.

“H-hey,” you breathe. Earlier, you were ready to do something drastic. Now, all the familiar doubts come crashing back in. Are all these feelings one-sided? Were you just seeing what you wanted to see? The feeling of his hand in yours is burned into your palm. Does he feel it too?

“I think it went pretty well,” he hums. His hands are tucked into his pockets, thumbs twitching unconsciously as if he’s nervous.

“It was perfect,” you agree.

For a moment that seems to last a lifetime, you both stand toeing the line. It’s right there, unseen but waiting to be crossed. You don’t know if either of you have the courage it takes to step over it.

And then he moves; he breaks the tenuous balance of platonic and something more by closing the distance between you.

“You really do look amazin’,” he breathes, hands clenching indecisively at his sides. “I mean, you always do, but–”

You grab him before he can finish his sentence. ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined.

The world fades away as his breath becomes yours. There’s nothing but the feeling of his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip and his hands gripping your waist and his curls tickling your forehead. Nothing but the sound of his deep groan and the desperate thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm as it slides up his chest. Nothing but finally feeling complete.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, but he doesn’t dare pull away. His steps sound like cannonfire as he backs you up against the wall, a march towards something deliciously irreversible as his tight grip on your waist bunches the fabric of your dress up. Nothing has ever felt as right as his entire body surrounding and swallowing you this way.

“I want to,” you breathe against his lips. “Do you?”

“God, yes.”

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and tug him closer, desperately wanting every inch of his body pressed up against you. Just as he’s starting to pull the skirt of your dress up, the song outside changes to ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’, strangely apt but also a reminder that you don’t have time. You made this playlist yourself–you know that there’s only three more songs after this one before you’re supposed to be ready for the bridal party entrance to the reception.

“Joel…” you moan out. “Joel, we have to be quick.”

“How quick?” He questions between searing kisses down the length of your neck.

“Ten minutes at the very most.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. He doesn’t pull away though–if anything, he pushes you back harder against the wall. “You still wanna do this?”

As much as you want to say yes, as much as you want to say fuck the reception, you can’t do that to Frank and Bill. “You think ten minutes is enough time?”

“If I can’t make you come in ten minutes I’ll eat my own fist.”

It makes you shiver in conjunction with the way his hand slides feather-light up your thigh.

Even the ghosting touch of his calloused fingertips on your sensitive skin has you aching for more. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

The cocky bastard has the audacity to actually wink at you. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You drag his lips back to yours with a renewed sense of desperation, relishing the gentle scratch of his trimmed beard against your chin and under your palms. “It’s definitely working.”

“Good.”

You know this is territory that you probably shouldn’t be crossing into, not when he’s twenty years older than you and he’s your new step-dad's best friend, but you can’t be brought to care when those deliciously rough fingertips are slipping under the hem of your panties.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grumbles against your lips. “She’s soakin’ for me.”

“A-always is,” you gasp out. 

His fingers sweep through your folds, gathering as much slick as he can to swirl around your sensitive clit. He smirks at the way your hands tighten on him even at the lightest of touches.

“That how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?” He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. “Oh, that’s it.”

“Joel, please…” Your hands move to his arms, squeezing tighter than you probably should but you can’t help it when he’s touching you like this. It’s exactly what you need and he knows it–he watches your face for every little indication that he’s doing a good job.

“Please what?” He purrs quietly. “What do you need?”

You could go on like this for hours, you’re sure–and you’re sure he’d be more than willing. You could stay here in his arms forever and let him work you over until there’s nothing left in your head but his name.

The song outside changes again, and you know forever will have to wait.

“Fuck me,” you plead. “Need you.”

“It’s gonna be tight, sweetheart.” You’d think he was being overly confident if you couldn’t feel the size of the bulge pressing against your thigh.

“That’s okay. Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” In a flash he’s got his belt undone and your greedy hands are more than happy to assist in shoving those perfectly pressed pants down his sturdy thighs.

You can’t help the gasp that bubbles out with the sight of him. He’s big. There’s no debate. The flushed tip of him is peeking through mouth-watering foreskin, red and flushed as if angry it’s not inside you already. You’re devastated you don’t have time to take that thick length into your mouth, to make him shudder and shake until he’s begging to fill you.

Later, you remind yourself.

“Still sure about this?” He asks, tone no longer brimming with the urgency and arrogance from just a few moments prior. He searches your eyes intimately for any hint of hesitation–the last thing he wants to do is to push you.

You’ve never wanted anyone more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

“Easy, honey. I’ve gotcha.” The hand between your thighs moves to coat him in your slick–for a moment, you’re mesmerized at the sight of his big hand working over his cock. “Gotta tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feel good, ‘kay?”

“I will, I swear, just please–”

The rest of your sentence gets lost in a breathless moan with the first gentle thrust of his hips. Even just the tip is a stretch–one that has your nails digging into his shirt-clad back and your thighs tightening around his waist.

“Shit, sweetie,” he purrs, voice liquid gold. “Gotta relax, gotta lemme in–”

You manage to loosen your thighs a little and it gives him the space he needs to press all the way in to the hilt–the feeling of him filling you completely is nothing but breathtaking. A broken groan tumbles from his lips–you can feel the way his breath hitches from how his forehead is pressed against yours. It’s nothing short of heady, to know that you have such a profound effect on a man you thought might be immune to you.

“Good?” He questions in a whisper. One of his hands is hooked under your left knee to keep your leg up around his waist; the other strokes absentminded patterns over your right hip, as if unconsciously soothing you.

You give him a shaky nod in response. “Good.”

The pace he sets is the most delicious kind of torture. You both know you’re in a time crunch, so Joel is more than happy to employ the most toe-curlingly relentless speed. Every slick thrust of his cock makes your eyes flutter–little breathy moans escape your lips with fervor as he pounds deep. He's hitting every single spot all at once and then some. All the while his lips trace around your neck and jaw, careful not to leave marks but whining quietly as if he’s tempted. As if he wants nothing more than to claim you in a way that everyone can see.

You moan out his name and the hand on your waist comes to help, settling between your bodies and finding that perfect rhythm from before. You’re finding out that he’s a very intuitive and quick learner–you would certainly praise him for it if you could find the breath to do so. 

The way his hips work–driving him deeper than anyone’s ever been; the way his fingers swirl–bringing you to the brink in mere minutes with the most thigh-shaking friction; the way his mouth works, sucking just light enough on the sweet spot behind your ear so as not to leave a mark… it all builds and builds and builds, leaving you breathless and trembling and teetering on the edge of pure oblivion.

“Y’feel like fuckin’ heaven,” he gasps out against your cheek. “Never gonna get enough.”

The words alone send white-hot pleasure shooting down your spine–you’ve wanted him so badly for so long, and now you know he’s wanted you too. It feels even better with that satisfaction, with the fact of winning the prize you’ve been coveting so deeply.

“Joel…” You want to tell him the million thoughts that are rushing through your head, but your lungs aren’t cooperating. 

“I know baby,” he murmurs with a particularly devastating thrust. “I know. S’okay.”

It’s too much and simultaneously not enough. You dig your nails into his shirt to tug him closer, a silent plea to get him working against that spot again. He complies without words, hitching your leg a little higher around his waist and angling his hips in a way that makes you cry out his name again.

“I’m gonna–”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he purrs breathlessly. “Lemme feel it, come all over my cock.”

His fingers press a little firmer against your clit and that’s all you need for the knot in your stomach to unravel with blinding force. It travels through every nerve like some delicious form of spontaneous combustion, making your body shiver with the energy of it. It’s the best you’ve ever felt–you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, either.

“That’s it honey, holy shit…” He murmurs before finally meeting your lips again for a breathless and panting kiss. “W-where?”

For a moment, you have no clue what he could possibly be talking about. His thrusts are losing rhythm with each moment, as if he’s about to–

“Inside,” you whine out after your moment of clarity. “Please–”

“Shit,” he spits even as he drives himself impossibly deeper. “Y’sure?”

You’re not even conscious of nodding your head–all you know is that you need him completely. “It’s safe. Promise.”

“Atta girl,” he whispers. “Gonna leave you fuckin’ drippin’, won’t be able to stop feelin’ it all night–”

His head tips back as the first wave crashes over him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropped open as his hips grind into yours. There’s nothing short of pure ecstasy on his face with the first few ropes of cum that fill you. You’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as the pleasure washing over this gorgeous man’s gorgeous face. Knowing that you’re the cause of all this nearly sends you over the edge all over again.

He grunts as he shoves himself a little deeper, eager to feel every inch of you as he unwinds. “Christ, honey… squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

“Not my fault you’re huge.”

He chuckles at that, staying seated deep within your walls for a moment longer so he can kiss you again. It’s lost its edge of desperation, but it makes up for it with an overwhelming note of sweetness. His hand cups your jaw to guide the angle and once again you’re struck by that overwhelming sense of rightness. It’s like you were meant to be here, meant to take everything he gives you and more, meant to love him.

The song outside changes to ‘Every Breath You Take’, the song before the entrance song, and you spring to action.

“Shit, Joel, we’ve got to go.”

He pulls out with an overdramatic groan, as if it hurts him to be separated now that he knows what it feels like to be joined. You can feel the drip start even before his hand comes to fix your panties, but there’s hardly enough time to worry about that.

“How’s my make-up?”

“Perfect, darlin’. Not a thing outta place.”

“Thank god for waterproof,” you chuckle as you straighten your dress.

His dark eyes meet yours as your hands smooth out his rumpled shirt–there’s still so much swirling behind them, so much promise of things to come.

“We’ve gotta go,” you repeat when he halts by the door.

“Just a sec,” he murmurs. And then he pulls you in for one final, saccharine sweet kiss. “Come to my room w’me tonight.”

“Okay,” you promise–you’re surprised you can keep your voice even when just the question makes your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s genuine, earnest. It makes your heart skip another beat.

He takes your hand before unlocking and opening the door, and he doesn’t let it go until he absolutely has to.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my darlings <3 ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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[bbyobbyo]

seventeen as dads headcanons

content: reader is married to svt, normative(?) family structure, literally just unhinged thoughts, not proofread lol

note: was trying to write an actual fic but then got distracted sorry, dadventeen brainrot is so real

Seungcheol

Super protective “don’t touch my family” dad outwardly

All of his kids’ friends are straight up SCARED of him

But within the household he's the one sneaking ice cream when you say no, albeit guiltily

Shopping trips with him will always result in buying something for them and he is very willing to be taken advantage of

“Babe if I can’t spoil them now, they’re gonna grow up and move out before we know it!”

Tries his best to be handy around the house, but probably makes it worse, ends up calling Mingyu to come fix it

Jeonghan

DEFINITELY a “go ask your mom” dad

This man not only powerless, he doesn't even want the power, he's just here to have a good time and if you say they can't, then sorry kiddo

You can’t tell me that he doesn’t bring up becoming a family prank channel at least once a week

LOVES bragging to everyone else about his kid’s achievements, cannot shut up about them to anyone in a 5 foot radius tbh

His kids definitely talk to him about everything, which is great because he is SO nosy.

Has a list of all their best friends, enemies, and crushes at school somewhere on his notes app for future reference when they come to him for advice

Joshua

The REAL practical joke dad, admittedly made them cry a few times when they were younger and felt really bad about it

Perfect sweet husband and father in image, all of his kids know he’s actually lame af

Dominates the summer barbeques, UNDISPUTED GRILLMASTER

Super dependable, will drop everything if his family needs him and never goes back on his word

Gives surprisingly good fashion advice

Jun

Definitely walks around the neighborhood with his baby in a sling carrier strapped to his front, POINTS AT EVERYTHING OF INTEREST

When they start learning how to speak he adopts all his baby’s weird mannerisms (it started off as a cute joke but then realized he couldn’t stop)

Cries at every baby milestone until they’re like 10

Will not stop bringing up embarrassing childhood moments, especially in front of their kids’ friends/significant others

Cuts fruit for them instead of apologizing

Hoshi

Will fully ally himself with his kids

Like legit would do anything for them. ANYTHING.

I’m talking borderline go to his kid's school to beat up their hypothetical bullies himself sort of dad

The kids can always count on him to say yes if you say no

Absolutely DEVASTATED when they grow out of the tiger stuff he buys for them and become angsty teens

“What do you mean tigers aren’t cool? Do you not love your old man anymore?”

Wonwoo

Quiet doting dad

Definitely more affectionate when the kids are younger but gets into the awkward advice-giving stage when they grow up

LAME DAD JOKES GALORE, groaning is a regular activity in this household

Tries to google basic algebra every time his kids ask for help on math homework because he doesn’t want to admit he forgot everything

Chaotic af unsupervised. “Guess we’re having pizza again tonight kiddos” kinda dad because he cannot and should not cook

Jihoon

Another quiet dad, but make it savage

I feel like he would just love roasting his kids (affectionately of course)

And always overwhelmingly acts of service so his kids know they are loved

Allowance randomly appearing under their pillow, their favorite foods magically stocked in the fridge, always relenting to one last bedtime story no matter how tired he is

Would let you have final say but he makes it really clear he’s on their side and empathizes with them but its out of his hands

“Next time just don’t get caught, okay?” *winks*

Minghao

Loves loves loves just spending time with his babies

Doesn’t matter what he’s doing he just wants to be in the same room as them or cuddling and holding them

Emphasizes equality in your relationship so his kids can grow up with those values and learn to respect others

TURNS EVERYTHING INTO A LIFE LESSON OH MY GOD

Doesn’t believe in allowances but will cave and literally buy them anything they want if they ask

Would rather die than miss any important event (competition, speech, recital, talent show, graduation, etc.)

Mingyu

Absolute super dad, what can’t he do? Nonstop home improvement projects, cooks anything his kids are craving, offers to drive everyone everywhere

But also the whiniest dad ever lol constantly complains about people “ruining his system”

Absolutely FUCKS at the school bake sales, earns them twice the target fundraiser amounts because he's dilf material and knows how to get the moms to spill their pockets

Likes to have the final say, but you’re both usually on the same page in regards to discipline so his kids aren’t getting away with anything

Just the most supportive dad in the universe, the kids learn to never take him for granted

Seokmin

You already know his kids are gonna be spoiled rotten. He will be the favorite parent by default sorry I don't make the rules!!

His arms are the very definition of a safe space

Leaves all the discipline to you because he cannot keep a straight face when delivering a lecture (one time he made them cry and also ended up crying because he felt so bad)

Does so much embarrassing shit just to cheer his kids up when they have a bad day, acts surprised when they tell him he's cringe

Such a pushover that they are probably gonna make fun of him when they're older, but that's okay because they know there's no universe in which their dad will stop loving them

Seungkwan

As long as he can pick them up still, his kids are never on the ground for too long

Two words: SPORTS. DAD.

He could practically captain the cheerleading teams at their school with how many events he's been to

Knows all of his kids’ friends parents, they all get together and have coffee once a month actually

Nags nonstop and complains about everything he has to do for them, but is always diligent and does it without question

Gets so pouty when they start getting embarrassed to show affection, he WILL get his cheek kisses if it's the last thing he does!!

Vernon

Chillest dad in existence?!?

Literally as long as his kids are safe he doesn't give a single fuuuuckkk

“Sleepover? Yeah, call me when you're done and I'll pick you up.”

He WILL argue with you if he doesn't think there's a good reason to say no to them

So cute and encouraging to all their weird hobbies and phases throughout the years. “Lemme see” and “Really? Show me” are regular phrases in his vocabulary

His kids are definitely gonna inherit his legendary facial expressions afnngjdg

Chan

Super affectionate and doting, but also quite strict with them at times

“I just want the best for you, I want to see you succeed”

HAS A PHOTO OF THEM READY AT ANY TIME, lockscreen is a different shot of his kids every day and is eager to show it off even if no one asked

Not so subtly signs his kid up for dance lessons

Just the most encouraging dad ever, makes sure that they know making mistakes are a part of life and that he will always love them no matter what

[kiefbowl]

listen to me, this is important. some of you are heterosexual and women and are likely very normal looking, but are convinced you're not attractive. and in some ways you are right, you are like a normal boring person, maybe with a couple odd qualities like a big forehead or snaggle tooth or something. you've probably been teased, perhaps bullied, been told you should "try harder" or are "ugly" or a number of other things that make it seem like you will just always be a normal, boring, ugly person.

okay and probably you will to some degree.

this post isn't about convincing you you're beautiful on the inside, whatever that's your journey I can't convince women who hate how they look not to hate themselves.

this post is warning you about the MEN who will grab hold of you, and try to make you feel lucky that they love you because you are so boring looking and normal and you're just a normal looking every-day person who was called ugly growing up. and they will take you on dates, and be nice enough, and move in with you, be polite to your parents, maybe even marry you. BE FOREWARENED: they are NOT nice!! When someone loves you, you are the sexiest hottest most awoooga person in the world to them. when grown ups love their partners, they want to eat them up slurp them down put their mouth all over everything and they will never ever ever make you feel lucky to have them, they will be like how how how do I have an angel living with me!!!!

YOU! CAN! ALWAYS! DO! BETTER! Do not let lame, boring, unmotivated, exhausting, unskilled, uninteresting, unsexy men catch a free ride on YOUR one wild and crazy life, because they sniffed out the opportunity to grind your self-confidence to dust by guessing that you, like most women, have some body image issues, so that they can guarantee you will be hard pressed to leave them when they "forget" yet again to do their laundry (can you do it?), or pick up their groceries (let's just get pizza), or plan the trip you've been begging them to do for you (I don't know how!). These men will be pleased to give you crumbs, and expect you to lap them up thankfully because you are soooo so so so quote unquote YOU GEE ELL WHY.

NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You do NOT have to be beautiful to be loved, and you are absolutely capable of not only find a better man, but thriving without any man!!! YES. YOU. ARE. You do not want to wake up, age 40 - and realize my god I've given this man 15 years of my life, and we haven't seen paris, and we haven't adopted dogs, and I haven't written my novel, and we don't have a retirement plan, and now my knees hurt too much and our mortgage is so expensive. You want to wake up tomorrow, 25 years old, and think "I have 55 more years to have earthshattering orgasms every day and do whatever the fuck I want, god be damned to hell" and then go do that at all possible costs. The perfect nose, chin, and eyebrow does not make your clit work any better.

Do you understand what I'm saying?? THE PERFECT NOSE, CHIN, ASS, BOOBS, WEIGHT, OUTFIT, NAILS, AND EYEBROWS DO NOT MAKE YOUR CLIT WORK ANY BETTER.

[flamingpudding]

I have a new prompt idea and it's dark

So the Nightingale / Fentons are a pretty curse family and one of the curses is one where any Nightingale that tries to leave behind the family name will either greatly disappoint their family or Die because of being curious

It's a long curse starting all the way back to there great great great uncle Kingsley (Klarion) Nightingale because he was the sibling of the original Nightingale it started the The witch Hunt because he didn't get magic but Klarion he started killing which is one of them curses entire family not knowing that the rest of them were witches

Which cost to chain reaction to every Nightingale that tries to walk away from a family suffering a terrible fate like Thomas Fenton Nightingale who ran away and change his names in Thomas Wayne and was able to rebrand his entire but died with his wife after they got too curious of the Court Of Owls

Cursing his family for always being on the bad side of History cuz a few of his cousins were working with the court of owls

So when the original Nightingale started to finally pick off his family that was trying to run away from The Nightingales Kingsley was burned alive cursing the Nightingale Fenton name

Or Danny Fenton who died in the portal accident came back alive and disappointed his parents were setting with the ghost instead of hunting them

How this is all figured out is Constantine is checking over Batman for curses when he's like oh you have a family named curse and I like oh the lame one he's like no your father's real name he ends up finding out all of this information

Can you even affect Jason because he was adopted by Bruce making him technicality a nightingale and he died being mad at Bruce for not saving him and came back still cursing Bruce

So this could be a crack prompt or a really angsty one depending on how you view it because Batman is finding out that he's really into all of these people but he somewhat knows or realizing that he definitely affected all of his robins due to a family person to give no he actually had

Which continued

Interesting Idea... I like some of the premises... here and many ideas are really interesting!

> So i took a spin at this throughout several weeks. yes this has been sitting in my drafts for a long time and i added things slowly but in the end it still is a pretty short piece... sorry... writing really has been hard for me lately again...

Though I think i might have gone a little astray from what you originally had here though or didn't include it enough.

Hope you will still enjoy the following!

------------------

John Constantine sometimes really hated having to work with the Bat and not just because he was one of these spandex wearing goody two shoes heroes. Okay maybe goody two shoes was a stretch but Bats was one of the heroes that annoyed him still. There was also another reason. Something he had slightly noticed since the first time he had meet the man. But back then he had ignored it.

Like hell was he going to get involved more than necessary with the bat suit wearing hero.

Well with the passing years it more and more became something he couldn't ignore any more. Especially since whatever it was had a certain stink to it that John really hated right now. Not just because he was forced to sit in one of these many Boy Scout meetings because Zatana was busy. It tickled his mage senses, but not in a good way. No it was the way that really made him want to take a swing of his flask, he would take one if he wasn't running the risk of his flask getting taken away from him by one of these heroes.

"Yre fucking cursed to hell and back, mate." John decided to speak up instead anyway with a dead-stare at Batman and interrupting whatever else Sups was going on about. Okay so maybe in reconsideration, John should have waited until after the meeting to say anything at all, really. But in his defense, Batmans curse was stinking even more now. Like it had been freshly activated by something.

Great thing, whatever the meeting had been about before got completely forgotten as everyone focused on the fact that THE Batman apparently had managed to get cursed given his history with magic. Bad thing, Batman pressured John into investigating what kind of freaking curse stuck to Batman. And boy, can he say that explaining to Batman that he was stuck with a centuries old course that was pretty much affecting anyone he sees as family was not fun, nore was explaining that this wasn't a recent curse but one he had very much inherited from his father.

"Nightingale, the name ringing any bells Batsie? Curse is tied to that name apparently." Was what he ended is explanation with only to get a stoic stare and a grunt as answer. Sometimes John really wanted to wrangle that hero in particular.

"Can you trace it back?" John side eyed Sups who looked worriedly between him and Batman.

"Can you trace it back..." He repeated with a mocking mutter, who did they think he was? Of course John could trace it back, he wouldn't even need to sell his souls for the x-time to do that. Not like he would for Bats of all people, but then again, he had sold his souls for less before. "Of course I can trace it back, mate."

John took just a little bit of pleasure in the fact that he was in a position to demand something from Batman when he pestered the man for a bit of his hair or fingernail clippings to use as a medium to trace the origin back. It wasn't nice anymore when he traced it back to an area that was the magical equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. Ground Zero. A No-Go. Do not Touch with a ten foot pole. The Do Not Enter of the magical world.

To say the heroes weren't impressed when they saw him taking a very needed swing from his flask was an understatement. Because seriously John needed a stronger Whiskey for this shit.

"What the hell do you have to do with Amity Park!?"

Danny meanwhile felt a shiver going down his spine, but he shock it off as he souped Skulker for the 3rd time this month. His eyes surveyed the area for a moment wondering what was going on before he once again choose to shrug it off. His legs turning into his ghostly tail as he flew back towards Fenton Works. Unaware of the storm brewing far away, while Clockwork was cackling in his tower contemplating if he should give his ghost child a heads up or not.

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 6)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship.

-

Megumi raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "What's going on?”

Without a doubt, they had raised Megumi to be better than them, more skilled, stronger, and way more, smarter...

“What’s going on where?” Gojo feigned innocence, cocking his head to the side slightly. “I don’t-”

“-Sure, you do, Satoru.” Megumi was quick to interrupt holding the same eyebrow up. 

“Dad, you are supposed to call me Dad or Daddy, how many timed do I have to ask you, Megumi.” Gojo teased, hiding his nervousness behind fake annoyance, all his efforts put on gaining a few more minutes. 

Megumi growled in annoyance at the old act his adoptive father used to play when he wanted to get his attention. Since he was little, was always the same fight with Satoru Gojo-... the young adult swallowed his annoyance and instead tried to go downstairs to get you, only to find himself flanked by Gojo, but this time by his broad body getting strategically on the way.

"Why are you blocking my way?" Megumi asked without patience, and Gojo snickered, lamely.

"Am I?" chuckled out the special grade sorcerer awkwardly, "...you misunderstand me, my child, I-I…I just want a kiss on the cheek from my Gumi-"

"NO!" Megumi’s voice raised, cheeks coloring with embarrassment, and Gojo saw it as his chance to take advantage of his obvious discomfort to get closer, to block his path better, to buy more time for you to come back from that mind-blowing orgasm he had just given you, all disguised behind his typical and characteristic needy self, finally his spoiled personality will serve someone else’s than him. "Come on, Gumi. Give Daddy a goodnight kiss-"

"...You're crazy, I'm not a child anymore... stay away!" Megumi grunted, pressing his strong palm on Satoru’s face who kept insisting on invading his personal space, lips raised, pouting like a fool who was ready to steal that embarrassing kiss. "Stop it, Satoru!"

"Satoru, leave him alone, he didn't even want to kiss you as a child... now that he's older, even less so." Both struggling sorcerers heard Geto say with an amused chuckle right next to them.

Satoru pouted throwing a tantrum but internally highly relieved, if Geto was there that meant that you...

"Satoru-sensei, if you're going to be harassing us like that, I'd better go," your voice made its appearance, that hint of tiredness and shortness of breath disguised behind false irritation.

"(Y/N)," Megumi sounded surprised, his cheeks exploding at being caught in such an awkward domestic scenario and forcing himself to use all his strength pushed Gojo off him.

"How mean are my favorite students with their poor sensei," Gojo complained, putting a hand against his chest to feign indignation, "...if I didn't know that I was your favorite professor, I'd be offended-"

"You're not our favorite professor." Megumi answered mercilessly, and you supported him, only to fall once again into the usual protocol, a protocol that would chase away any suspicion from Megumi's mind of what was really happening between you and his parents.

"Nanami is our favorite." You delivered the final thrust, and Gojo's shoulders drooped comically, Suguru laughing at the comical outcome.

From where he stood, the curse-eater could see from the corner of his eye that slight tremor that accompanied your knees, the way the muscles in your thighs continued to have involuntary spasms, your pretty hands squeezing your uniform shirt to catch your breath and summoning all your strength to keep you upright when the only thing you wanted at that moment was to collapse and rest.

That orgasm had been way too intense, it was the longest minute of your life, you had never cum so fast and so hard, every nerve felt on fire, your sensei had ripped every ounce of strength from your body, and you could only think about now was sleep.

"-It's late, maybe we should go rest, Megumi."

You suggested quickly, hoping that you could catch your breath in the arms of Morpheus, clean the saliva that covered your thighs and pussy, and sleep under Megumi's sweet and safe company.

Megumi nodded, handing the briefing to Satoru and offering you his hand, which you took without hesitation to let him guide you up to his room.

"Leave the door open," Suguru commented a little too firmly, and immediately regretted his involuntary spurt of unnecessary jealousy.

"We are not children anymore, Suguru-san. Good night." Was Megumi's final response.

Gojo and Suguru were reduced to wishing you goodnight, there was nothing else they could do, they had to control themselves no matter how much what was happening bothered them.

"G-Good night, Suguru-san, Satoru-san." You said and both softened their voices to respond.

"Good night, (Y/N)."

"Sleep well, little one."

A growl was the last thing that was heard before the door to Megumi's room was closed and the latch put on, you were now inside the room of their adopted son, and they couldn't feel more uneasy.

-

No matter how much you insisted, Megumi wouldn't let you sleep on the futon on the floor, giving you his bed instead.

"I don't mind, (Y/N). I prefer that tomorrow you are at your best for the mission." He had said without letting you protest, getting into the futon and watching you from below as you climbed onto her bed and snuggled against her pillow. 

“Thank you, Gumi.” 

Were the last words you directed at him making him smile timidly before darkness reigned in the room as did silence, only a ray of moonlight subtly illuminating one part of the room until Megumi's eyes became accustomed to the shadows.

How he wanted to be in that same bed with you, his arms around you, your face against his chest, your warm breath against his skin.... he had to stop thinking about it or he couldn't control himself. 

Megumi closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, and his cheeks flushed when he opened his eyes again and found you looking at him from the edge of her mattress. A mischievous smile kidnapped your lips, and you couldn’t stop to tease him.

"What were you thinking, Megumi Fushiguro?" you asked him in a not-so-innocent whisper, "your cheeks are red, and you look agitated..." you continued, ignoring how uncomfortable he looked, "tell me, best friends don't keep secrets from each other."

Megumi gulped and you could see the abrupt movement of his Adam's apple.

"-Nothing interesting," the black-haired man answered, looking away.

"Liar,” you accused, “don't you trust me?" you asked him and this time, his mouth opened without his permission, letting out his biggest insecurity.

"Trust? How dare you-” he cut himself mid-speech and instead, asked. “... You like older men?"

"Older men?" you repeated dazedly.

The question was out there with all its implications and silence reigned once again in the room, "I know I declared my feelings to you this morning but-" Megumi steeled himself, "-but I need to know if you prefer them... "

Megumi's heart beat a mile a minute. You're smart, he doesn't need to say more for you to know who he's referring to. He's not stupid, he's not easy to fool... of course, he noticed the traces of sweat covering your face, your rosy cheeks and your shortness of breath, combined with Satoru's needy attitude so suddenly, something was happening and even though he refused with fervent stubbornness to believe that you could have an affair with his guardians... he needed to say it out loud and hear you deny it out loud. Megumi wants you for himself, you are soulmates. Satoru and Suguru already have each other, it's only fair that they let him have you.

Your silence felt like a hot knife piercing his beating heart, that heart that for years has only beaten for you, for your attention, for your affection.

Megumi sighed heavily, and this time it was anger at your cowardice that made him insist.

"Who do you prefer? Satoru or Suguru?" this time his question dripped venom, "Despite their age, both are still very popular with-"

"I prefer you." Your sudden confession stopped him in his tracks, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Don't just tell me what I want to hear, (Y/N)-"

His stubborn mouth was silenced as your soft lips claimed it. Slowly he felt you crawling from the safety of the bed towards his dangerous futon, where he would no longer be or want to be the kind boy who only held your hand timidly.

Your tongue pushed its way between his lips and Megumi's crotch woke up, firm and throbbing against his pajama pants. His hips stuttering up against your warm, covered core, he doesn't want to force you into anything you don't want but he's not in control anymore.

"...Are you sure?" Megumi forced himself to ask and immediately scolded himself for fear of a refusal, but you grinned against his mouth and your tongue licked his lips before asking.

"You do not want?"

Megumi nodded, "I want, I want you more than I need air." The black-haired man declared fervently, "...I just want you to-"

"I want to, Megumi." You voiced out and he shuddered with excitement, "I want you to do to me everything you've been planning for almost two years-"

"Three years, hun." Megumi revealed, stealing little pecks from your panting lips, "Three agonizing years, I've loved you since you set foot in school-"

"Then don't hold back, Megumi." And that was all the permission the young adult needed to let go.

His head shifted to the side finding refuge in the hollow of your neck. Slightly parted lips pressing too insistently against the tender skin as he bathed it in warm, elaborated breaths. 

“You had your chance.” Megumi warned and soon, there was nothing innocent or gentle about the way his lips moved against yours, or his hands slipped under your pajamas, or the way he gets rid of those cumbersome layers of clothes.

This boy’s actions were fierce and desperate, could feel the heat radiating with each touch, each movement was devastatingly daring and conceived just to drive you to the edge and let you rush into the abyss of his very soul. It was the true essence of a greedy man who had been asleep for far too long under layers of control. Each layer had been ripped apart by your acceptance of his feelings and now only the raw man remained, wide awake and hungry.

You felt at his mercy, more precisely, like his willing prey. 

Megumi grew too enamored with the plush curve of your hips and all restriction flew away from his rational grasp.

“Fuck-…. Do your very best not to scream, baby.” 

COMING SOON PART 7....

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for u-h-h-g-h behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . wait, actually, is he gonna have to start reading biographies and historical stuff? He’s a dad now. The other dads are gonna expect him to know stuff about the Civil War and World War II and, like, lawnmowers and how to grill, aren’t they. His dad didn’t even grill, Mom did! Dad always got distracted by his book or something and let the hot dogs burn! 

Billy is not optimistic about his capacity to mow a lawn, though at least they’re in an apartment. Like–probably somebody handles that, right? That’s gotta be a thing, doesn’t it? 

. . . he should check with Batman about that, maybe. 

. . . . . . and also figure out what the wisdom of Solomon knows about how grilling works. 

Or, uh–work on the focus thing, maybe. Definitely the focus thing. It’s just–it all feels like so much, and Billy doesn’t wanna mess up and wreck Lynn’s whole entire life and make him miserable forever or ever make him feel like any of those foster “families” and social workers ever made him and just about all the other kids he knew in the system feel or– 

Billy wonders if he could maybe find a god to talk to about asking to borrow, like, the forethought of Apollo or the precision of Arachne or the strategy of Ariadne or something sometime (though definitely not the concentration of Atalanta, because one golden apple and he’d be right back where he started). Like if he could maybe swap it out with the stamina of Atlas or the courage of Achilles when he needs to, that’s all. Just when it’s, like, situationally useful or whatever. 

. . . he’s really not doing a good job with this focus thing at all, yeah. Which he’s pretty sure he’s thought a few times now already, too, just–

He’s just really nervous, still. He’s really glad Lynn doesn’t hate him or think he’s lame, but he could still totally do something that’d make Lynn hate him or think he’s lame and–

Focus. 

“Want me to serve?” Billy offers, pointing at the plates. “I mean I know I don’t know how much you need to eat yet, but neither do you, and I’ve seen a lot more people eat than you have, sooo . . .” 

“. . . you’ve seen Superman eat?” Lynn asks, looking–uncomfortable, briefly, and looking down at the plates in his hands. Billy’s gonna have to start finding stuff for him to look at instead of people, he’s pretty sure. Like, little puzzles Lynn can be messing around with or little crafts he can be doing or something, so people just figure that’s why he’s not making eye contact with them and not, like, him being antisocial or something. 

“Oh, yeah, tons of times,” Billy says, since that’s a valid question and all, considering actually the way big majority of the people he’s seen eat were human and Lynn is actually not, so actually that might not be helpful anyway. Superman’s diet would be way more useful to know about. But the problem there is–“But like, I don’t ever really know if he really needs to be eating or if he’s just doing it to be polite? ‘Cuz I do that sometimes, definitely. But also sometimes it’s just ‘cuz something looks good? So yeah, I dunno. I’ll have to ask him when I get a chance, maybe I can catch him after the next League meeting. Or I guess I could email him, I guess that’s a thing . . .” 

He doesn’t really use his League email or messaging accounts or anything like that, like, basically ever, but Batman did give them the phones and all, so he’s not gonna have to go to the library to do it anymore, sooooo . . . 

Lynn doesn’t say anything; just keeps his eyes down and on the plates he’s still holding. Billy tries not to frown. Lynn doesn’t talk much or make eye contact all that much, so far, so it’s not like it’s new. Just–he doesn’t know, really. He’s still got this weird feeling like something’s wrong, all of a sudden. 

[genshin-side-piece]

Tell Me You Are Mine

Hopefully he'll leave me alone now.

Sequel to : Love Me Tender & Love Me True

Warnings: Yandere Content, Dark themes, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual themes, not smut (sorry),Not Fluff, Uncomfortable themes, not a portrayal of Stockholm Syndrome, but can be interpreted that way, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

“Good afternoon.” As if by instinct, your jaw tightened at the sound of his soft voice. A swift glance out of the window told you he was early. Way early. Normally, it was closer to dinner when Neuvillette made his presence felt.0 The golden light of the setting sun seemed to herald his return. The second it began to peak through the soft sheer curtains that hung on all the windows, you made every attempt to hide. Drawing room, breakfast room, the back corridor that led to the servants quarters. It didn’t matter. He always found you. Even after you slipped your little wardens or convinced them to give you privacy, he still found you within minutes of his arrival. It was almost like he had a sixth sense in that regard.

As of late, you had taken advantage of the mild weather, opting for one of the more out of the way spaces so that you might enjoy your novels in peace. You had read the one that was currently in your hand a hundred times before today. It was one of the few pieces of fiction you were permitted to read, therefore it brought you the greatest joy you could muster. The escapism was a much needed break from the monotony you faced on a day to day basis. Which was why his gentle voice breaking your train of thought at the best part was nothing short of annoying. Especially when his presence was neither expected or invited. “I see that with the change in season, you’ve adopted a new spot. This room does keep the afternoon light longer than the drawing room. With the days becoming shorter, I imagine it is exemplary for reading before dinner.” You tried not to visibly roll your eyes as you made every attempt to ignore him. The faster this was over, the faster you could enjoy your solitude before you were forced to perform the abhorrent ritual that was dinner. “I wonder if you are at a stopping point. I have something I wish to show you.” There was an unusual giddiness that his calm voice generally lacked. He was uncharacteristically excited about something. That generally meant one thing. “A present, of sorts.” A heavy sigh was your only reaction. He had already tried to shower you in presents as a lame attempt at an apology. Aside from the book in your hand, all the others had fallen flat. The only time he got to see them was when you felt he was in need of punishment. Where you forced him to see and be near the version of you that he so desperately wanted, the version that you would never let him have. “Please, I have been working on it for quite some time. Will you let me show you?” The sheer hope in his voice grated on your nerves. Every instinct in you said no. Mentally you wanted to crush that hope he had. If you did, then perhaps he might finally see there was nothing to gain in keeping you here beyond your mutual misery. Once he realized that, then he might grant you the one thing you so desperately wanted, which was to let you go. “Is it not something you can leave on the table for me?” You didn’t bother to take your eyes away from the page you had been reading. Instead, you made a half hearted gesture in the general direction of the rest of the room. “I am afraid not.” Gods above you hated he sounded pleased, but you supposed he got something he wanted from the brief interaction. You had avoided speaking to him for weeks now. “This gift has a bit more permanence to it.” You furrowed your brow in confusion. Permanence? Another sigh escaped you, this one smaller than the last. You couldn’t deny that after months of trying, he finally didn’t something that made you want to know more. 

With zero flourish you closed your book, giving him what he truly wanted, which was your full attention. The soft smile he offered you as a reward for your compliance was no less annoying than his voice. “I will need to escort you to it, but afterwards you are free to go there on your own.” He toyed with his fingers for a moment, a tick you had noticed whenever he was nervous. Your eyes narrowed at it, momentarily focusing on his hands, questioning the action. On closer inspection of Neuvillette you noticed he was as rigid as a board. His frame lacked the somewhat relaxed countenance his normal posture tended to have. From your vantage point, you could see that small beads of sweat had begun to form on his brow, while his eyes swirled with what you could only guess were the emotions he refused to acknowledge or show. Neuvillette was always so calm, so collected. He never exercised anything but absolute control over himself around you. The only time he had come close to losing that control was when someone had dared to threaten one of the melusines. The weather had seemed to match the fury that filled him as the storms lasted for days. 

Now was nothing like that time. His mood, his posture, even the slight shakiness in his speech was nothing short of bizarre. You blinked, a realization washing over you. God, it couldn’t be, could it? Was he nervous? Another look at him told you all you needed to know. His handsome face was strained, struggling to hold the disarming smile he was wearing. The sweat on his brow was growing by the second. He actually broke eye contact with you long enough, to allow his smile to fall into a slight frown. What made his present state so curious was that he never got nervous when giving you something. It was often left for you in your room or he would drop it on a table nearby and wait for you to open it. Why was this different? “Will you allow me to escort you?” The expectation in his voice grew. He sounded almost desperate for you to say yes, for you to take down the invisible barrier between you long enough for him to get close to you. Based on his proximity to you, he had already broken it, but given that he had you cornered there wasn’t much you could do other than say no. “Please?”

Again it was a chance to hurt him beyond all measure. To just absolutely crush him, possibly once and for all. The longing in his eyes alone would make it worth it, but for once, your better judgment granted him a reprieve. While Neuvillette was many things to you, the one thing he was not, was intentionally cruel. He had never been abusive, nor had he ever raised his hands to you to bring you harm. Even at your worst, when you could do nothing but scream at him, he just took it. He never interrupted, never raised an objection to a single thing you said. He just let you rage at him until the anger that had possessed you left your body, reducing you to a quivering, sobbing mess. Then he would still be there; a glass of cold water and handkerchief in hand, ready to comfort you should you wish him to.

His compassion for your situation, despite being the cause of it, was the only reason you bit your tongue now. Over the many months you had been with him, you had come to the realization that while you loathed his actions, you did not necessarily loathe him. At least not entirely. You were still angry. You still sought your petty revenge. You still denied him all that you could, but crushing his hope, crushing him felt needlessly cruel. His motives had come from a decent place, as had his actions. At the time he had believed something horrible had happened to you. With a serial killer lurking, you could make yourself understand it. In some way it was almost flattering. The Iudex of Fontaine cared enough for you that he came to personally rescue you from harm. What you resented was not what he had done before, it was what he did now. You despised being kept, but your abhor at your own situation was not a good enough reason to harm him like that. Deep down, you knew it would not bring you the outcome you desired, nor would it bring anyone any satisfaction. If anything, it may make things worse for both you and the nation as a whole. Living with a kind man was easy, you often shuddered to think what kind of man Neuvillette could be if he wished to see someone suffer. Given his place in the world, it wouldn’t be difficult at all if he wished that upon you. His little friends were all too happy to tell you about the caverns and caves and oubliettes that lurked in the darkness beneath the waves. It would be nothing for him to disconnect from your world completely and send you to live in eternal darkness for the rest of your days. Your entire body involuntarily grew cold at just the thought. 

It was easy to forget Neuvillette was dangerous. His calm nature and gentile manners were a clever mask for the power that laid just beneath the surface. You had heard the rumors, same as all the rest. It was all the melusines had talked about for days. They had fretted and fawned over the events that had taken place. Neuvillette had recently had to suppress an outburst in court. The offender had managed to land a blow, but it had only been by luck. Not even a blink of an eye later and the individual in question had been subdued thanks to Neuvillette’s strength. The entire interaction had lasted seconds. You knew based on your own experiences with him that he wouldn’t even need that for you. It was another sobering reminder that his treatment of you was a choice. He chose to love you, just as he chose to be gentle with you. But you knew, even gentle people had their limits. You briefly wondered where his actually were, if rejecting him now would push him past the point of no return. You silently worried if you could weather that kind of storm. 

Reconsidering your options, you took a second look at the current situation. Unlike past gifts that were left for you, this one was different. He had arrived unexpectedly, nervous and hopeful, with something he could not simply hand you. Neuvillette had to escort you. It possessed permanence. To say that you were cautiously intrigued more than you were worried was not an understatement. It was impossible for you to imagine what it could be. “Petit?” The intrusion of his voice, distracted you from your thoughts. You looked at him again, his nervous feelings were clear as day now. The smile had fallen in favor of pursed lips and concerned eyes. “Will you walk with me?”  “Will it take long?” You did your best to sound disinterested, quickly using your book as an excuse. “I was at the best part.” A breathy chuckle escaped Neuvillette’s lips, followed by what felt like a sigh of relief. “Not long at all petit chou. In fact, bring it with you. I believe it may come in handy.” That statement only served to encourage your curiosity further.

The walk was a quiet one. Neuvillette either wasn’t in the mood for small talk or thanks to the situation, he had been rendered silent thanks to his nerves. You found that fact irksome. The one time you wanted him to speak to you, to tell you what was going on, he wouldn’t. Neuvillette was stalwart in his silence. The only sound that passed between you was the sound of his robes moving in time with his body as he silently led you to wherever you were going. His home in comparison to yours was quite large, but in reality not so big that you wouldn’t be able to reach a set of locked double doors within a few minutes. You noted there wasn’t anything particularly special about them. The only thing unique to them was that they were on the north side of the house, a place you rarely ventured as Neuvillette’s office and chambers were located on this side. It made complete sense the object in question was on this side. If it possessed any sort of permanence, then it was logical that he would keep it close. 

There was no fanfare when he unlocked the doors before you. No music. No confetti. No shouts or utterances of the word surprise. Just an open door and second set of doors, that led to a walled garden. To what you gathered later was his extreme pleasure, your jaw hit the floor. 

It was a peace offering between you and him. A cage within a cage really. The stone walls were far too smooth and far too tall for you to scale, but that didn’t detract from the meaning behind his gift. Neuvillette was expanding your privileges, offering you a semblance of freedom in a world where you had none. Here, you would have the feeling of the sun and the wind and rain on your skin. You could hear the sounds of the court, albeit at a distance. You could even detect the faintest scent of the sea as it hung in the air. All the things you had lost the day he had taken you. All the things you had yearned for since being locked behind the heavy stone walls of his home. After the first few weeks of being here, you hadn’t asked for them to be returned to you. Neuvillette had made it clear that they wouldn’t be. His personal matra to you was that the outside world was dangerous. You were not safe. He had done his best to protect you from afar, but it had not been good enough. Your trip outside the city had triggered him to the point that he felt the only solution for his dilemma was to keep you in a place where you could be monitored full time. If you wanted sun or rain, then you could gaze at them through the filtered light of the windows. If you wished to smell the sea, then you would have to be near him to do so. As of that moment, you would never be in the outside world again. It had absolutely crushed you. “I know it is quite late in the year to gift this to you. I offer my apologies for that oversight. The meulsines and I were in agreement that it should be nothing short of perfect. Some of the flowers were also quite difficult to grow. It was insisted upon that as many of them as possible were to be in bloom when this was presented to you.” He hesitated. “I do hope you like it.” 

The trepidation in his voice pulled your attention back to him. There was a pang of guilt for how you had treated his gifts in the past. Your lack of appreciation where he was concerned had made the act offering anything to you, gift or otherwise, a challenging one. It was another sobering reminder that Neuvillette himself wasn’t a bad man. His intent towards you had not and was not malicious. Everything he had ever done for you had come from a place of admiration, of love. Even now, as he stared at you, almost bracing himself for the negative reaction you were sure to have, he still looked at you like the moon and the stars hung by your hands. For the first time since arriving, you felt cracks form in the ice around your heart. “It’s-” You paused, allowing yourself a moment to take the entire space in again. “It’s wonderful.” You bowed your head slightly, doing your best to hide the genuine happiness that was bubbling up from inside of you. It was wonderful. You would never deny that. Outside of letting you go, this was the best thing he could ever give you. “Thank you.” Your downcast eyes missed the look of utter relief that washed it’s way across his face. “I am glad then.” There was a breathy laugh that followed that. “Cosanzeana has been so worried over the flowers. She cultivated many of them, just for you. It will be a great comfort to her to know that you like them.” You nodded, bringing your eyes up to meet his once again. “This is not just for today. Going forward, it is reserved solely for your own use. No one will trouble you here unless it is for an emergency or we are preparing to eat.” You didn't know what to say to that. What could you say? Your own place? Your own private place? Better still, you could use it whenever you wished. You felt as if you had witnessed a miracle. While the garden certainly wasn’t the freedom you desired, it was a giant step towards achieving it. Allowing you this was a sign of trust. One that you were sure to take complete advantage of as time went on. “I only ask that you be mindful of the weather, especially when winter arrives. It would be most disagreeable if you caught a chill due to overexposure to the elements.” You nodded, silently agreeing with that sentiment. Becoming ill would be incredibly disagreeable considering he and the meulsines would be the ones to take care of you should you become that way.  He had already gotten close enough as it was. Giving him a legitimate reason to be so near you, to touch you, was something you couldn’t bear. “If you are content, then I shall take my leave until this evening.”

“Monsieur.” You thickly swallowed, watching him pause as you called after him. The look in his eyes made you falter slightly. They were brimming with adoration. Instinctively you knew he was pleased as punch that this had gone as well as it had. That he had done something to make you happy. Even if it was only for a few moments, he had managed to pull a genuine smile out of you. It had been the point of all of his gifts. He wanted to make you forget that for that moment he wasn’t your keeper. That you weren’t a captive. He wanted to paint the illusion for himself that you were both happy. Up until now, you had resisted. All the fine things he had presented you did little to achieve the lie he wanted. They did nothing to change the circumstances in which you lived. Clothes would never open the locks that kept you here. Jewelry could never help you get away from the walls that surrounded you. Only the book in your hand had given you even the slightest hint of escape. It was why it was your favorite and you imagined that now, like your book, this too would become a favorite. That should have been enough in your eyes. He gave you a garden, you would use it on the days that the weather would permit. That should be the end of it. Your conscience, though, disagreed. Maybe it was your own guilt for how you had acted, but in your mind a step deserved to be met with a step. The use of the space didn’t seem like a proper thank you. Even if it would bring you his unwanted attention, in this instance, you decided to make an exception and go one step further. “We have a while before dinner. Perhaps-” You gently sighed as he continued to stare at you with those eyes of his. Damn them for being so beautiful. Damn him for being as he was. Damn yourself for making you say what you were about to say. “The weather has been very nice as of late. It seems a shame to enjoy it alone. Would you care to sit with me?” His normally pale skin flushed. Neuvillette looked as if you could knock his lithe frame over with a feather.

“I-” He cleared his throat, the blush on his cheeks growing as he visibly fought his own surprise at the invitation. “I had thought of catching up on some work before dinner.” You raised your eyebrows almost stunned for a moment. He wasn’t going to refuse, was he? Surely he couldn’t. Not when you knew the invitation alone was something he yearned for. Briefly, you considered he would be well within his right. You had given him a rare chance to pay you back for your behavior for the last few months. To your surprisingly great relief though, he did not. “But I believe it can wait until after we eat.” The spirit of peace between you continued, with Neuvillette accepting your olive branch, just as graciously as you had accepted his. “I would be all too happy to join you mon petit.”

[avengers--assembly]

Sleep deprived results

Summary: Peter basically calls Tony dad for the first time and Tony? He is too sleep deprived to actually realise. The end

Word count: 602

Warnings: none

●◇●◇●◇●◇●◇

Peter yawned hugely as the equations blurred together under his tired gaze. He and Mr. Stark had been working for what felt like forever. They’d started after dinner with Miss Potts, who had promptly chased them away to do their "science stuff." Neither had complained initially, but now that the clock was creeping past two in the morning, Peter knew they both desperately needed sleep. Maybe a snack too, he thought, just as his stomach let out a loud growl. Stifling one last yawn, Peter decided to address his own needs.

“Dad?”

No, no, no. Peter couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He couldn’t have called his mentor, Iron Man, "Dad." Peter's mind raced, conjuring up every mortifying scenario possible. Was Mr. Stark going to disown him or even cancel the adoption?

Before he could spiral further, Mr. Stark replied,“Yes, Petey?”

Was Peter breathing more heavily than usual? It certainly felt that way. Deep breaths. Mr. Stark remained fixated on him, offering no additional input, his half-lidded eyes glazed over. Maybe he didn’t hear me? Should I answer? Yes, yes, of course!

“I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to, uh, have a snack?” Peter finished lamely. If Mr. Stark noticed anything amiss, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Sure kiddo, let’s go. I didn’t even realize we’d been down here so long.” Mr. Stark ended with a sparing glance at the clock.

Peter nodded mutely, following the man and eventually plopping down on one of the island’s bar stools. Mr. Stark started making hot cocoa on the stove, and Peter adjusted his legs nervously. Pepper would definitely deem their current activity unsafe, considering their half-asleep states and the extremely warm milk and open flame.

Peter leveled his gaze with Mr. Stark’s and said the first random thing he could come up with. He had to double-check if Tony’s distant look meant he’d missed the whole "dad" slip.

“Can we make a real cutting-edge, neon pink lightsaber?”

Tony tried to concentrate on the boy’s words but didn’t catch them completely. Peter was staring at him with an analyzing and hopeful expression. Tony was almost certain he’d heard the word "can," so maybe the kid wanted something?

“Sure kid, whatever you want.”

Peter gasped dramatically, and Tony’s half-dead mind tried to grasp a good explanation but found none. Maybe the kid was just excited about whatever he’d agreed to? Tony shrugged and poured the warm, chocolaty drink into two cups before guiding Peter to the couch. Snagging a few cookies on the way, they started a movie that Tony really wasn’t paying attention to.

******

The next morning, Pepper found them both still fast asleep, snuggled up together. Feeling a streak of mischief, she left each of them a personal note. She had things to say after Friday had played some footage from the previous night, things she deemed cute and others not so much. If anybody asked, there were no early morning photos taken.

Peter's note, in neat handwriting, read: "Tony would be honored if you called him Dad, as he already refers to you as his kid."

Tony’s note read: "I swear Tony, if you build a functional lightsaber, no matter what weird color, I will harm you.

P.S. with love from Pepper."

[arlana-likes-to-write]

That Part by Lauren Spencer Smith

Summary: You and Kate have been dating a little less then a year but you couldn't help but think about a future with her.

Warning: pure fluff, Kate has anxiety, engagement, small mention of death

Note: thank you @sycamorelibrary754 for helping me with the ring lol

These moments were your favorite, quiet, peaceful moments with Kate. Inside your shared apartment, you weren’t an ex-HYDRA soldier turned adoptive daughter of Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill, and she wasn’t training to take over your uncle’s mantel. You both were normal humans enjoying a slow Sunday morning. Kate’s head was in your lap, head turned to face the TV to watch the morning cartoons. You were reading, one hand holding the book while your free hand through your black hair. The book was a simple romantic comedy. You enjoyed these stories because they allowed your brain to have a break from the darkness that you fought every day. The characters were cheesy, and the plot was easy to predict, but it made you feel all warm and fuzzy. At the end of the story, the characters have a happy ending.

Happy ending. You glanced at your girlfriend, whom you’ve only been dating for a year. Maybe it sounded weird, but you wanted the picket fences, an arch around the entrance, and two IKEA twin beds for the kids. Your relationship started rocky, and both were unable to admit their feelings for one another. Your moms could have been more helpful, too. They made it clear that you were off-limits to all the new trainees. It was humiliating, but it didn’t deter the archer. You caught her staring at you; a blush would overtake her cheeks. When she asked you out, you kept it from your parents until your aunt caught Kate kissing you good night. It was better to tell them yourself than to come from Yelena. They took it well, surprising, but gave Kate the shovel talk. “Where did you run off to?” The sound of Kate’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Her voice was a few octaves deeper in the morning. You hummed, letting her know you heard her but were confused by her question. She chuckled, moving onto her back to look up at you. “You stopped playing my hair like 5 minutes ago. So where did you go?” She asked again, taking your hand in hers and kissing each finger. You smiled.

“Just thinking about you. Us,” she dropped your hand so it rested on her heart. It was beating fast, her anxiety skyrocketing. “All good things, I promise.”

“Tell me,” she said, sitting up and turning down the volume of the TV. You pressed the bookmark to the spine to avoid losing your place. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”

“It’s going to sound crazy out loud,” you admitted. “Promise me you won’t laugh.” She took both of your hands in hers.

“I would never laugh at anything you say.” Sighing, you bite your lip and focus on your connected hands. It was a stark contrast. Her hands were rough, callouses on her fingers from years of training to be the best. On the flip side, you were smooth. HYDRA used your brains, not your strength. You created the battle plan for every operation. You may not have pulled the trigger, but so much blood was on your hands. You sighed again.

“I was thinking about you, us, our future. I never expected to have a life like this, you know?” She squeezed your hands for you to continue. “When you hold me, I see the end of our movie where you kiss me surrounded by friends and family. I know it sounds lame, and maybe you don’t feel the same. I can’t wait for that part.”

“Would you take my last name, or would I become a Romanoff-Hill?” Your eyes shot up to look into her blue ones. Her eyes were calm but bold, warm but cold with little specks of green. They were windows to her soul. You chuckled.

“Kate Romanoff-Hill is a bit of a mouthful,” her hands moved up your arms and to your waist. It was easy for her to move you onto her lap.

“It is, but I like the sound of it,” your hands went to the back of her neck. “Are you saying you would say yes if I ask you to marry me?”

“Ask me anyway; I don’t care,” you leaned closer. “The only thing I care about is if you’ll meet me there.” It was the consent she needed to capture your lips with hers. Kissing Kate was your favorite. It made your stomach drop and your heart race against your rib cage. It made you feel at home.

*

There weren’t many things that scared Kate. She fought against HYDRA agents, enemies that threatened to disrupt the balance of peace and aliens from another planet. She wasn’t scared. All of her years of training have led her to these moments. However, she was out of her element here. She sat in front of Natasha and Maria in a conference room. She asked if she could speak with them privately after training. Dating you caused the archer to get closer to the Black Widow and Deputy Director; she saw them in a new light. More human, not the soldiers they were known for. During movie nights, Natasha liked to be held by Maria. Dinner would take a little longer sometimes because the couple would start dancing; you inherited that from them. Kate knew it was a privilege to see them like that. “What’s going on, kid?” Natasha asked. They were intimating, and she knew they would do anything for your best interest.

“Right, sorry, I know you have other things to do, and I’m taking up your time, so I appreciate that -”

“Kate,” Maria cut off her nervous rambling. “Breath.” She did just that, a few steady, deep breaths in and out.

“I want to ask Y/n to marry me,” Natasha let out a surprised noise from the back of her throat. “I had this whole speech planned to ask for your blessing, but my anxiety is getting the better of me,” she managed to get the couple to smile. “I am probably not the person you thought would be dating your daughter. I am impulsive, rash, and sometimes reckless, but I am so in love with her that I can’t see my future without her by my side. So I am asking for your blessing.” The room grew silent. Kate was positive Natasha could hear her heart beating against her ribs.

“Kate,” Natasha said. “You are spontaneous but also devoted, loyal, true to your heart. So you are the perfect person for our daughter.”

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you gave it to me,” Kate admitted. Natasha’s eyebrows went to her hairline. “I was given it like a 50 - 50 chance.” Maria chuckled.

“You make her happy. It would be foolish of us to take that away from her.”

*

“I’m so excited!” You said, probably for the 100th time, but Kate couldn’t care less. Your smile was infectious, and it was dampening the nerves in her stomach. They were going to St. Petersburg to visit Melina and Alexei; it would be the archer’s first time meeting your grandparents on Natasha’s side. She was nervous, especially since your parents and Yelena were coming along. The cherry on top is that Kate would ask you to marry her. She was a ball of nerves; if you noticed, you weren’t paying attention. “Melina had a new litter of piglets. I can’t wait to hold one!”

“Keep an eye on her, Kate Bishop.” Yelena teased. “She’ll try to bring one home again.” You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue at your aunt.

“She almost got away with it, too,” Natasha called from the cockpit. “Until her bag started oinking.”

“It happened one time!” You defended. Everyone laughed as Kate put her arm around your shoulders and kissed your head.

“I’ll get you a pig one day, baby,” you wiggled in your seat and leaned against her. Yelena chuckled.

“You are whipped, Kate Bishop.” The archer flipped her friend off, and you giggled at their interaction.”

*

“Omg!” You shirked. “They are so cute, babushka (grandma).” You were leaning against the wooden pen as Melina was inside handling them. The piglets were skittish about new people and hid behind Melina and their mother.

“Are you going to try to steal one?” She asked. You huffed.

“No, I already got told no on the flight over. But,” you lopped your arm with Kate’s. “Someone did promise me they’d get me a pig.”

“I said one day, sweetheart, not today,” you pouted. “Besides, I don’t think we have enough space in our apartment.” Introducing Kate to your grandparents went without a hitch. Alexei made her swear they would spar before she left to test her strength and dedication. You were holding after a few bottles of vodka; the man would forget that. You saw Melina’s lips cruel up in a smile.

HYDRA and the Red Room’s paths rarely crossed, but you heard her name whispered among the higher-ups. After your adaptation, you learned Melina wrote your training program. It was hard for her to overcome that guilt. “Would you like to hold one?” She asked, standing up with a little piglet in her arms.

“Do you even have to ask?” You held your arms out so your grandmother could place the tiny creature in your arms. Immediately, you brought it closer to your chest. It amazed you how animals and humans were born so small and vulnerable. They relied heavily on those around them until they were more robust and capable of caring for themselves. At one moment, you were this small. Instead of caring for you, your birth giver gave you away. A slight squeal pulled you out of your thoughts. The piglet was getting comfortable. You looked up at Kate, staring at you with a soft smile. “Sorry, I got lost in my head for a second,” you handed the little one back to Melina. “You’re starring,” you said to Kate. “Do I have pig shit on my face or something?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I just think you are the most beautiful girl in the world.”

*

Kate thought it was impossible to fall in love with you more, but seeing you in St. Petersburg was a different you Kate got to fall in love with. There was a softness in how you acted around Alexei and Melina that you’ve never shown her. Kate was curious to know if she knew you were doing it. It was how you hung onto every word during Alexei’s ridiculous stories or your face lit up when Melina surprised you with a gift. It was adorable to watch, and Kate knew your parents loved to see it too, even though Natasha complained they were spoiling you. Kate was so in love with you, and she couldn’t wait to ask you to marry her.

You were curled up near the fireplace, reading one of the many books Melina had. Kate was 90% sure it wasn’t in English. “Hi, pretty girl,” Kate said, placing a new log on the fire. It wasn’t cold in Russia, but Kate learned you liked to have one every night. You smiled and lifted your head, asking for a kiss. Kate was never one to deny you that. She kept it quick as your family was in the kitchen. “I have a surprise,” Kate whispered. “Can I steal you for a moment?” You quickly shoved the bookmark in its place and took her hand. Kate led you upstairs, ignoring the thumbs-up Yelena sent her way.

On the first night, you showed Kate your favorite spot. It was through the window on the second floor to the flattest part of the roof and the perfect views of the property. You told her that Natasha and Maria had a heart attack when they found you asleep in the same spot. Kate opened the window and helped you to climb on the now-decorated roof. She heard you gasp as she joined you. A blanket with pillows and fairy lights lite up the dark space. There was a cooler filled with your favorite desserts. “You did all of this for me,” you said. Kate nodded. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” Kate chuckled. “Sit. Melina helped me make your favorites.” The older Black Widow was overjoyed when Kate approached her for help. Your favorite was the pitchy Moloko, a thick but light cake with a rich chocolate ganache glaze. She made medovik, a famous honey cake, and varenye, a traditional dessert with various fruits and berries cooked with sugar. Melina helped Kate make her favorite, syrniki, a fried cottage cheese pancake topped with apple sauce. You made it for her when she first started dating, learning quickly Kate preferred to savor desserts over sweets.

With your belly filled with sweets, you learned heavily from Kate and looked up at the stars. She had to admit she was jealous of the life Alexei and Melina built for themselves out here, away from all the fighting and bloodshed. Clint walked away from it, too. She could as well. “Thank you for this,” you broke the silence. “And for meeting the rest of my family.”

“No place I’d rather be, sweetheart,” she honestly said. As long as you were by her side, she would be home. “Actually,” Kate pulled away from you, smiling at your whine of protest. “I have one more surprise.” Carefully, she pulled you to your feet and took both of your hands. “Y/n Romanoff-Hill, ever since I saw you in training, I knew you were going to be trouble,” you giggled, a small smile on your face. “Even with your parent’s clear order to stay away from you, I couldn’t. I knew I needed to be in your life. I didn’t expect to fall head over heels in love with you.”

“It’s my charm,” you teased. “I get it from my moms.” Kate huffed out a laugh. Tears were forming in the corner of your eyes.

“You are the light at the end of the tunnel—my saving grace. I keep fighting to return home after the mission,” Kate said. She got down on one knee and took the ring out of her pocket. “Will you marry me and make me the happiest person in the multiverse?” She asked. You gasped, and your free hand covered your mouth as Kate opened the small jewelry box. Wanda helped her pick out the ring with your mom’s and aunt’s approval. The ring was more contemporary, with a square-cut diamond in the center and the bands intertwined with diamonds on the side. Tears were freely falling down your face. All Kate needed was your answer.

“Kate Bishop,” you whispered. “Of course, I’ll marry you.” The archer let out a sigh of relief as you pulled her to her feet. With shaky hands, she put the ring on your finger. It fit perfectly. You were quick to kiss her. Your lips tasted sweet from the chocolate and salty from your tears. You ended the kiss, keeping your forehead against hers. Kate could feel your breath on her lips. “I’m going to be your wife.” Wife. Wife. She was going to marry you. Holy shit. Kate laughed, lifting you and spinning you around. Your laughter was music to her ears.

“Come on,” she said. “I know some people are excited to hear the news.”

*

Your right hand was tightly in Kate’s. You were getting married. You had a wedding to plan and a dress to buy. Holy shit. “So,” Natasha smiled. She was the first to see you descending the stairs. It got the other’s attention. Instead of answering, you showed her your left hand.

“Finally!” Yelena cheered. “We can get drunk!” You laughed at your aunt’s antics and made your way around your family to show them your ring. It was beautiful, exactly what you dreamed about.

“Congratulations, squirt,” you turned around, surprised by the sudden voice.

“Uncle Clint!” You said, running over to the man and throwing yourself in his arms. “What are you doing here?” The man rolled his eyes.

“Do you really think we would miss your engagement?” This time, it was Wanda appearing through the door. “The others are coming.” You looked back at Kate, who had a sweet smile.

“You did this,” she shrugged.

“I had some help to make it happen.” Clint walked over to Kate and hugged her, kissing her on the side of her head. When you first met Kate, you told one person of your feelings for the archer. That was Wanda; you told her you would disobey your parents and date her. Now look where you were, surrounded by your family, celebrating your engagement. Kate wrapped her arms around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. She swayed to the music that was playing.

“Where did you run off to?” She asked, kissing your neck.

“Just thinking about us,” you responded similarly when she asked you that Sunday morning. “Can’t wait for the next part.”

[smicksstuff]

Hi! I don't know if you're still taking requests, but if you are can you please write something for Marc Guiu where reader graduates high school and he goes to her graduation, gives her flowers and stuff, kinda fluffy.

This is my fisrt time requesting something, so sorry and thank you in advance 🫶🏻

Class of ‘24

pairing: yn x marc guiu (smau)

the one where they graduated…..

high school is finally over…… whats next ?

ynusername

liked by marcguiu9, yourbff, hectorforrt_ and 7,627 others

ynusername i did it no 🎓

view comments

marcguiu9 you did it mi amor ❤️!!

hctorforrt_ you are so lame

ynusername @/hctorforrt_ no one asked

marcguiu9 good luck mate

hctorforrt_ dios mio

marcguiu9 you better start running

username the polaroid is so cute ✨

username once you know, you know

-

marcguiu9

liked by pablogavi, joaofelix79, ynusername and 225,627 others

marcguiu9 no 🎓tion needed

view comments

ynusername 2/3 graduations complete

ynusername te amo, amor ❤️

ynusername but that 🎓tion needs work

hctorforrt_ when did the two of you become lame

hctorforrt_ i swear you both were fine

ynusername this is the aftermath of high school

marcguiu9 you will get there soon enough

hctorforrt_ mine is next week

ynusername 🫨🫨🫨

pedri congratulations yn and marc !! 🎉🍾

pablogavi its partyyy time ⏰

username get me a friendship like this

username pls this they are living a wattpad life

-

1 week later ….

ynusername & marcguiu9 just added to their story

-

ynusername

liked by isahernaez, marcguiu9, pablogavi and 89,728 others

ynusername life after graduation 💃🏽🕺🏽

view comments

marcguiu9 ❤️❤️❤️

hctorforrt_ look at us, young, wild and free

username i love how marc and yn has adopted hector as their child

username adopt me too plss

username where do i sign up to join them

username they just graduated and they spend like they are earning millions

username wait till her luck runs out and she gets left

username you guys are salty this isnt you

username have some talent and this could be you

-

ynusername, marcguiu9 & hctorforrt_ just added to their story

-

marcguiu9 & ynusername

liked by pedri, pablogavi, isahernaez and 459,718 others

marcguiu9 just us and our child (hector) celebrating graduation 🎉. edited

view comments

mamaguiu CHILD ????? get yourself home now

marcguiu9 mama there is no child its just hector

mamaguiu there better be no child now

ynusername we promise its just hector

mamaguiu hector is alright

hctorforrt_ all this fuss about me 🥹

username real slick with the caption edit

username mama guiu probably booking a plane ticket to mallorca with her chancla

username marc woke up and chose violence

pablogavi where is the invite

ynusername next trip, there is a ticket waiting for you

pablogavi there better be,, yall need some adult supervision

ynusername you arent any older than us

pablogavi who said i was going to be the adult. we bring @/pedri along

pedri im not becoming a babysitter

ynusername yall need to get girlfriends so i can have fun

marcguiu9 im not fun 🥺😓

ynusername you areeee, i just need female friends

username signup sheet to be yn’s friend

username sign me up

view 800 replies

-

bonus part:

hctorforrt_

liked by ynusername, marcguiu9, pablogavi, pedri and 890,728 others

hctorforrt_ Thats 🎓

view comments

ynusername who is the lame one now

marcguiu9 FOMO (fear of missing out)

hctorforrt_ @/ynusername @/marcguiu9 back off i thought you love me 💔

ynusername ofcourse we love you

pedri the trio are smart now

ynusername what is that supposed to mean

pedri 🤷🏼‍♂️🤷🏼‍♂️🤷🏼‍♂️

pablogavi cue the party 🎉 im ready 🕺🏽

ynusername you know where it is

fcbarcelona congratulations hector 🎉

hctorforrt_ gracias 🙏🏽

username 3/3 graduations

username all i want to know is how they became friends

username same, they are all in different schools

marcguiufans yn and marc are neighbours, hector knows yn through marc

username oh to be neighbours with a barca boy

-

credits: all pictures are found from pinterest and instagram

a/n: thank you for reading this far!! If you have any one-shot scenarios send them to me!! I would love to try and recreate them for you ◡̈

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

Will you write about Y/N teasing Hero is Back Wukong about basically being Liuer's dad. He's just so protective and fatherly to this little boy and yea, he's still has a sour personality but it always makes me squeal when I see them interact!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Papa Groach (Prt 1).

Authors Notes: I'm one of those who can't stand how annoying Liuer, but I tried. Hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the request.

You lost count on how long it’s been since your husband, Sun Wukong, was released from The Mountain Of Five Elements, and the events of the mountain trolls went and passed. You never expected anything like it, but the Great Sage Equal to Heaven… had companions. You didn't know why the pig still followed you, but Liuer and his Shifu were more than welcome. 

It's not that you hated the pig… well, kind of, but it mostly had to do with the fact that he tried to send your husband to the afterlife. 

“Great Sage? How many-” Liuer’s voice snapped you out of your thoughtless daydream and made you focus on the group walking ahead of you.

“A lot,” was Wukong’s lame reply to the boy’s question. Of course that wasn't a satisfactory answer to the overly curious young monk. 

“But what about (Y/n)? Isn't she?”

What are they talking about? You wanted to ask, but you knew that once you asked, you’d regret it.

“No, that's different,” he said, which made you even more curious about what Liuer was asking the Monkey King about. “Why are you only asking me? She's right there, go ask her yourself.”

“But she said you would be able to explain things better than she ever could,” Liuer stated, repeating what you had told him… which made your husband look back at you with a glare you smiled at. 

You pretended not to hear what was being said, but Wukong knew that when you paid attention, you could hear him whisper from a mile away with your advanced sense of hearing. You thought it was absolutely adorable how the two interacted, like an unexpected father to his newly found adopted son. You had thought many times of how Wukong would be as a father, since you knew him best and saw past his flaws.

As his wife, you knew Sun Wukong like the back of your hand, and you sided with him through everything. You even sided with him when he went against the Heavens, that's how much you loved your Monkey King. As such, you know when he doesn't like something… and you never get that feeling where Liuer is concerned. 

Annoyance, sure, of course annoyance. He is often very annoyed by the boy, but you never got that sense that he’d want to hurt or leave the child. Sure… maybe he’s tried to get rid of the kid before, but when he gave up doing that, you could see that was when he started to get attached to the annoying human monk. 

“Adorable,” you snickered to yourself. 

“Hey,” you looked at Wukong hearing his shout. 

How’d they get so far ahead? I need to stop daydreaming before I lose them. You thought to yourself.

“Hm?” you smiled a bit seeing he was looking at you. 

“Why are you walking so slow? Hurry up,” he called for you. Translation: ‘He’s talking too much again and I won’t endure this alone.’

“So, so adorable,” you shook your head with a smile, but walked a bit faster in order to catch up with the men and little boy. It was only then that you noticed exactly where you were and you couldn't help but smile at the memories that came back to you.

“Great Sage, have you ever been to the temple before?” Liuer asked as he saw how happy the Monkey King seemed all of a sudden.

“A few times,” Wukong stated as you caught up to him. “It’s an important place,”

“Really?” Liuer looked up at your husband in amazement before he tilted his head curiously. “How come?”

“It’s where I met (Y/n),” he looked at you with a small smile as he subtly held onto your pinky gently and caressed it. This man just knew all the right things to make your heart want to leap out of your chest. “And where we got married.” 

“Wow,” Liuer said as he walked between you both. Wukong was quick to lift your hand so he wouldn't have to let you go as the clueless child walked past you both to walk a few feet ahead where Shifu and Pigsy were.

“So, papa Sunny,” you tried to say seriously, but couldn't help but snicker. 

“What?” he looked at you with a raised brow, but shook it off.

“Papa Sunny,”

“Stop that,” he looked at you, unamused.

“What do you mean, papa Sunny?” you tilted your head as you gaze at him with an innocent look, but you couldn't help the laugh. Wukong looked at you with narrowed eyes that questioned your sanity.

“Have you been drinking?” He raised a brow.

“No, you idiot. I'm just admiring how good of a dad you are,”

“Dad? What are you talking about? I am nobody's father,” he stated as he walked off, you were quick to follow.

“Of course you are,” you grinned up at the taller primate. 

“No, I'm-” he cut himself off as he stopped walking and turned to look at you. You raised a brow, but when he eyed you from head to toe, and stared from your eyes to your stomach, you blushed profusely. “Are you…?”

“Of course not!” you snapped, placing a hand subconsciously on your stomach. “Are you saying I look bloated?” you questioned him, he rolled his eyes and continued walking. 

“No, I was just asking because you seem to think I’m a father,” he glanced at you with a small smirk. “And you’re my only wife.” The way he emphasized you were his, made your heart beat even faster than seeing him look at you like that. 

“I meant,” you started, jogging a bit to keep pace with him, “since Liuer is technically your kid,”

“What?” he looked at you with narrowed eyes. “You are crazy.”

“Think about it!” you laughed, hugging his arm so he couldn't escape. “He's your mentee, you take care of him and kinda teach him stuff, you feed him-”

“I feed you too,” he looked at you, “does that make you my kid too?”

“Don't get smart,” you huffed. “You're such a good husband and father.”

“I'm not a father,” he said plainly and smirked a bit, “at least not yet.”

“Stop that,” you tried not to be affected, knowing he was just trying to tease you back, but you couldn't help getting flustered. He chuckled, staring ahead at the pig and the child in question.

“You so are, though,” you grinned at him. “There's no shame that you like the kid, why else would the mighty Great Sage take him on in the first place?”

“I wasn't thinking, and I had no choice,” he shook his head, “mostly because he freed me from that mountain.”

“And the journey to get the babies back to their families brought you closer,” you sighed dreamily as you pleased your head against his arm.

“Would you stop that?” he tried to pull away, but you held onto him. “Let go, woman.”

“I don't want to,” you looked up at him with a smart ass smirk, which made him give up with a sigh. 

“I am not his father,” he finalized. 

“Okay,” you gave up, which made him look at you suspiciously.

“Okay?” He raised a brow. 

“Okay,” you gave a nod, looking ahead. He stared at you for a while, not trusting you at that moment. He knew you way better than that, you’d never give up an argument like this so easily… he’ll be keeping a closer eye on you for a while…

Little did he know, that was mostly where he had lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It happened when he least expected it, when you guys had just settled down after putting up camp for the night. He couldn't stop caressing your cheek and grooming your hair, things you always thought were absolutely adorable.

“Hey, dad?”

“What is it, Liuer?” he asked before he tensed and looked at Liuer, only to see what looked like Liuer shape-shift back into Pigsy.

“I KNEW IT!” You laughed, holding your stomach as he stared at you with an unamused expression.

“That's not funny,” he said, very unamused.

“Whatever you say,” you couldn't stop snickering at his expense. 

“You know what?” you looked at him just as he dropped the logs and moved towards you.

Uh oh… you immediately sobered up.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled nervously as you backed up three times for every step he took towards you. 

“If you’re so hung up on me being a father, come here,” that made you stop laughing and start running. “Get back here!” he said as he ran after you.

“Nope!” you yelled, not stopping, but your grin said you were still happy… regardless of him threatening to impregnate you and make himself a dad on purpose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2.

[celestialseawitch-ff]

🌹

“Hey, we're going out tonight.”

Lily looked up from her work. “I'm aware.”

James sat down beside her. He glanced around the head office even though he knew no one else was here. He leaned forward. “Can you do me a favour?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Lily raised an eyebrow as she wrote with her muggle pen. “What's the favour?”

“It's for Harry. He's been having nightmares. Bad ones. I just… if he has one, I won't be there during the moon.” 

Lily looked up from her scroll. “Why're you asking me?” 

James shrugged lamely. He didn’t trust anyone else with Harry was the truth, but he didn’t know why that was and didn’t want to have to explain it. “He likes you,” James settled on. “Harry doesn't really like a lot of people.”

Lily nodded slowly. “He's very suspicious of people,” she observed.

James licked his lips. He swallowed as he revealed, “It's a trauma response.”

“From your parents… dying?”

He shook his head. “Harry's adopted. From a squib relation or something. I don't know the details.” He cleared his throat as tears stung his eyes. “They hurt him.”

Lily's eyes widened. “Oh. James…”

James sniffed and rubbed away a stray tear. “That's why he's so small. His potions are supposed to help.”

“I'm sorry,” she cried.

James looked up, startled. “It's not your fault.”

“What can I do?”

“Can you stay in my dorm? He might not need you, but I can tell he's anxious about the full moon and it's happening so close to Halloween.”

“He doesn't like Halloween?”

James shook his head. “He came to us on Halloween. It was… I don't know what happened and he doesn't remember. He- Harry doesn't remember anything.”

“Does he not know…?” That he’s not your brother, went unsaid between them, like vocalising it would make it so.

“No. And I was young enough when he came that no one else really knows either.”

“Even Sirius, Remus, and Peter?”

James shook his head.

“Why did you tell me?”

James opened his mouth but no words came out. “Harry likes you,” he finally repeated. He shrugged. “And he's better around you. Calmer. I don't know why, but if there is something about you that helps, then I want you around him. He's the most important person in the world to me.”

“I'll stay in your room.”

His lips twitched but ultimately, no smile came to him. “Thank you. I'll owe you one.”

“No,” she immediately shot down. “It's fine. This is for Harry. No favours owed when it involves the most important person in the world.”

The smile from before briefly touched his lips. “See you around, Lily.”

“James.”

[writebackatya]

Darkwing Duck’s* Biggest Fans Haters

*As in the old tv show from the world of DuckTales (2017), not the superhero Drake Mallard assumes the identity of to fight evil

To fans like Drake Mallard and Launchpad McQuack, Darkwing Duck is the greatest piece of television history that helped shape their lives to become the ducks they are today thanks to its titular hero who never gave up despite the odds against him

To the rest of the world, Darkwing Duck was just another superhero show from the 90s that starred a problematic diva d-list actor that may or may not have died

Opinions are subjective of course, neither are 100% correct nor incorrect but I feel like when the fandom talks about Darkwing Duck it’s always about the characters that would also like the show. So why not flip the script a little? We’ll start small and work our way up to its biggest hater

Gosalyn Waddlemeyer:

“GOSALYN!?” You might be screaming at your monitor/phone to which I have to say:

“Yeah”

Again we are not talking about the Drake Mallard or his super identity here, but the tv show he and Launchpad are obsessed with. Because frankly, I bet Gosalyn loves doing all that superhero stuff with her adoptive dads. It’s a cool life to live!

Other than the fact that Drake is a huge nerd who INSISTS that Gosalyn do her “homework” and watch every episode of Darkwing Duck, read all the sacred texts (comic books), and playing the original Darkwing Duck video game on the original hardware so she won’t use the rewind or save features that modern games or ROMs have

Like all kids who have had an adult push their interests onto them, she has a little disdain for the show. But not a whole lot since she’s first on this list. I like to think she’s in the same boat as Dewey where she finds the show cheesy and doesn’t really hate it per say and sees why Drake and LP love the show. She even has a few guilty pleasure episodes

But one thing she doesn’t understand is why Drake and Launchpad insist on watching the Darkwing Duck Christmas Special every year when they’re both practicing Jews

Scrooge McDuck:

Yeah the old man can barely remember Drake, let alone the Darkguy Drake played in that movie he cancelled so I don’t really see Scrooge being a fan of the Masked Mallard. (No, not that Masked Mallard OG DuckTales fans)

If Scrooge did sit down and watch the show, he’d find it to be rather ridiculous if anything. Some vigilante running around dressed like The Spirit or The Shadow or whatever superhero kids are into these days getting slapped around and fighting back just doesn’t seem like his cup of tea

I like to think when Donald and Della were kids they watched Darkwing Duck at the mansion and Scrooge just walked by the room, looked at the TV for a few seconds, scoffed, and moved on with his life forgetting all about that nonsense his niece and nephew were watching

Louie Duck:

Honestly I always had this headcanon that Louie just isn’t a fan of superheroes. Like at all. He finds the stories all copy and paste, using all the cliches he hates from other genres and putting them in tights.

And don’t even get him started on superhero related adventures! If he sees a sky beam, Louie is running in the opposite direction of it. He’s not dealing with the many different diva supervillains out there trying to take over the world with cartoony extreme measures, he doesn’t wanna be around all that property damage

He does have a favorite superhero tho. Waddle Duck because he gave him a Pep once

Lena Sabrewing:

She thinks it’s lame.

Gandra Dee:

This is a no brainer for me. Gandra Dee made herself Darkwing Duck’s biggest hater the moment she heard the duck talk shit about Gizmoduck around Fenton who insisted she does not reveal his secret identity to Drake, because Drake is all he has left

Wanting to respect her boyfriend’s wishes, Gandra decides not to spill the beans but instead add more fuel to the fire by talking shit about Darkwing Duck

And she does not hold back

She’s not ashamed to talk shit on the show. It’s predictablity, it’s cheesiness, the plot holes, how lame it was for its own time, etc

It ain’t her childhood, she ain’t afraid to fight dirty either. She will bring up problematic episodes that depicted races in a not so good and stereotypical light (“It was the nineties! They were different times!” -Drake probably) such as the fact that in one episode Darkwing Duck called a group of Native Americans “primitive savages” or that a non-Asian actor played an Asian character in a sterotypcial manner and that how one of the characters names was “Duck Ling”(Okay but for real, all that shit did happen in the OG show.)

This of course frustrates Drake who is extra suspicious of Gandra ever since he saw her with Gizmoduck and writes her off as a blind fan girl who doesn’t know what she’s talking about

She’s pretty chill about not being into the show with Launchpad tho. He respects her opinions because he’s Launchpad and at the end of the day Gandra is still his friend

[thebluestbluewords]

rumors of his death have been greatly exaggerated

"How's your brother doing, dear?" Fairy Godmother asks, taking Chloe's hand as she comes up to the teacher's table. "Is he enjoying his graduation trip?"  

Chloe tips her head sweetly to the side. "What brother?" 

Fairy Godmother looks puzzled. "Your only brother, dear one. Unless your parents have adopted another without telling me?" 

"Oh, that brother. I haven't seen him since..." Chloe hesitates. "The incident." 

"I'm sorry?" 

Chloe beams. "The incident. It's a family matter, I'm really not supposed to talk about it. I'm sure he's fine, though. Mother isn't too worried about him." 

You could make a topographical map out of the folds in Fairy Godmother's forehead. "Yes, of course. I'm sure that must be hard on your mother, not having her son around." 

"She endures." Chloe says cheerfully. "I should really go get dinner before I hold up the line. I'll see you in class tomorrow. I've already got my Fairy History essay ready for you!" 

"That's lovely, yes." Fairy Godmother says, still frowning. "And Red, you've got all your books? Everything you need?' 

Red lifts her chin. She's not just a passive observer, even though whatever's going on with her royal roommate's missing brother sounds horrifically fascinating.  "I'm all set. Wonderland post sent my books last week." 

"Lovely, lovely. I'll see you two in class tomorrow." 

"Goodnight, Fairy Godmother." Chloe chirps, bobbing into a half-curtsy before she moves away. 

Red will not curtsy, but she dips her head in the vague shape of a bow. "Goodnight." 

+

"So." Red says, once the two of them are out of the dining hall and on their way back to the dorm room they're going to be sharing. "You've got a brother?" 

Chloe looks at her sideways, without moving her head. "No. I've got a Chad." 

There's a particular darkness in her voice at the name, like how Red wants to say Jabberwocky sometimes, when they've been especially bad. 

"I take it you're not a fan." Red says, because it's stupid to ask questions, but she's the princess of Wonderland, and she should know her neighboring kingdom's royal families. "Is he really awful?" 

"The worst." Chloe says lightly. "He's not at home right now, though, so we've all had a bit of a rest." 

All? 

"All." Red repeats. "How big is your family?" 

"Big enough." 

It's dumb to play evasive word games with a Wonderland girl. "Big enough to fill a carriage?" 

Chloe sighs. "Bigger." 

"Big enough to fill a limo?" 

"Bigger, if you're counting everyone." 

"I'm asking you to tell me about your family, Auradon girl," Red says, leaning in towards Chloe, making it a flirty request, rather than a desperate dig for information. "Aren't you guys supposed to love talking about yourself?" 

Chloe shoots her a certified look. "My family is weird. You don't need to know about them, it's just...my brother is off on a mission to find himself, or something. He graduated in the same class as King Ben, so people are still going to ask about him, because one weird girl who plays with swords for fun isn't enough for the royal gossip tabloids." 

"Swords." Red drawls. 'Very royal." 

Chloe huffs out a tight little breath. "Yes, swords. I'm on the ROAR team. Royal Order of Auradon Regiment. We practice running through obstacle courses with swords for fun, and I'm actually really good at it, so please, please don't make fun of me. I know I'm not a very proper princess, but I really do love it, and my mom doesn't care what I do so long as I don't mess up my face, so just-- just stop it. I'll tell you about my brother if you really want, just..." 

"Swords are cool." Red blurts, before she can think twice about it. "Your brother sounds like a lame-ass anyway. Tell me more about your sword game?" 

Stupid, stupid. Asking about her sports team? Super lame behavior. Not cool at all, Red. 

Chloe looks up at her through her lashes. "You're making fun of me again." 

Red's heart skips a little beat. She's not sure if it's from shame or the huge, embarrassing, terrible crush that she's trying really hard to squash. "I'm not. Promise." 

"It's okay that you are. Everyone does, once they hear about my hobbies," Chloe says softly. "I'm not cool like my brother, or popular like my sisters. I'm the youngest child in my family, so everyone babies me all the time anyway. I don't mind it usually." 

She's twisting her hands together, looking down at her fingers. She's not wearing any royal rings or anything. Red's been wearing rings since she was a kid, to show her status and to punch people better. She wouldn't know what to do with hands that are so soft and naked. Does she hold them? Give Chloe one of her own rings? Tell her she's an idiot for declining any symbols of her royal status and get her mother to give her at least a small family ring? 

"I'm not actually a very good princess." Chloe says after a moment. "I just let people tell me what to do all the time. I just follow the rules and practice with my sword and read a lot of books. I'm not brave like my mother. You're probably braver than me. Coming to a new country, a new school, all by yourself... that's really brave." 

"Thanks."

Chloe's eyes are enormous. "Yeah." she whispers, soft and sweet and so, so close to Red. "I think you're really brave." 

Red lifts a hand to touch her roommate's cheek. "Brave enough to hear the truth about your brother?" 

Chloe's face falls. 

Red's heart sinks right along with it. 

"No. You don't want the truth anyway, it's boring." Chloe says, turning around to unlock their door.  "Anyway, I'm sure everything is boring compared to Wonderland, so I won't make you listen to me any longer. Goodnight, Red." 

Their door shuts before she can come up with a comeback. 

Fine. If her roommate won't tell her what's going on, Red will just have to figure it out herself. 

+ 

The next person to ask about Chloe's alleged brother gets an even less helpful answer. 

"I lost him." Chole says sweetly. "At sea. We went out on the yacht to celebrate his graduation, you know, after the...incident." 

The student nods seriously. It would be stupid to roll her eyes, but Red's patience for these delays is short already, so she does it behind Chloe's back. Really subtly. 

Chloe bobs her head in a little nod that could almost be serious, if she didn't look so pleased about it. "Yeah, so we were out on the ocean, and he just fell overboard. We lost him. Mom threw him one of the inflatable life rafts, but you know how Chad is about accepting help, so once it hit the water he just started swimming away. At the rate he was going, he's probably in the Southern Isles by now." 

+

It happens again. 

"He's at home, helping mother weed the library. We have a curse, you know. Roses keep growing in the fiction section, and it takes all hands on desk to clear it out." Chloe says, flashing the girl a bright smile. "The only reason I'm exempt is because mother and father don't trust me not to solve the problem with my sword.” 

The girl frowns. “Chad, weeding?” 

“Oh, yes. He wouldn’t usually, but mother asked him specifically. He’s really a mother’s boy at heart. It’s sweet how much he’d do for her.” 

Red watches the girl digest this. 

“Aw. That is sweet.” 

Chloe beams. “Isn’t it? He’s just the best. I bet if you run to the library now you could understand just how he feels right now, surrounded by all those books.” 

+ 

And again. 

“He’s joined the astronaut training program.” Chloe says. Her face is set in a very serious expression, which is only fitting considering that she’s talking to the head of their math department. “We haven’t seen him in ages, but he’s supposed to be on the moon base soon, so every time we look up back home we wave to him. It’s a new Charmington family tradition.” 

“That’s very nice, dear.” 

“If you want to join the SpaceChad fan club you can go to the royal media page our sister set up,” Chloe says sweetly. “It’s online under SpaceCaseChad dot com. There’s lots of good pictures.” 

Their teacher pinches the bridge of her nose. “Very nice story, Chloe. I’m sorry I asked.” 

“Princess Celeste puts a lot of work into it.” 

“I’m sure she does. Now sit down so you can learn some theorems.” 

Red looks the page up. 

It’s full of press pictures of Chad Charming, the only Prince of the Kingdom of Charmington, heir apparent of the second biggest kingdom in all Auradon, poorly edited to look like he’s floating in space. 

And wearing cat ears. 

The animated sparkle in his eyes is a nice touch. Red appreciates the sort of effort that goes into these things. The effort that’s been put into adding a tiny rocket ship under his boots is less impressive, but the way that the rocket bursts into animated flames every fourth edit is much funnier than it seems the first time you scroll past it. 

She’s starting to think that her roommate might actually be on to something here. 

+ 

The fifth time it happens, Red's pretty sure she's in on the joke. 

Before Chloe can come up with another smartmouth answer, Red gasps. The student who asked this time is some girl in a cheerleader uniform, and she looks like an easy target, so Red throws her whole body into it. Mouth open, eyes wide, and a gasp so theatrical even her mother would be proud of it. 

"You can't just ask that!" Red gasps, sweeping an arm around Chloe's shoulders. "Oh my gods, why would you even ask when it's still so fresh?" 

The cheerleader gapes. "I— what—?” 

"You don't just ask a royal family member what happened to her only brother," Red snaps. "It's not done. My mother could have your head for it. Chloe, are you okay?" 

Her roommate is shaking in her arms. Red's never tried to be a good person, but there's a feeling building in her that might be what goodness feels like. It's sort of like when she drinks the special unbirthday tea that she’s not supposed to touch, and a little bit like when she's in on a secret with her mom. Giddy, that's the feeling. 

The cheerleader's hands are on her cheeks now. "I didn't mean any harm, I'm sorry. Oh my god, Chloe, I'm so sorry. Is he okay?" 

Chloe's face is buried wholly and completely in Red's shoulder, and she's a warm, comfortable, shaking weight that's making it hard for her to think straight.  There's so many horrible things that can happen to a prince, and only so many ways to say it... 

"She doesn't know." Red says, pulling Chloe in a little tighter so her giggles can't spoil the illusion. "The last thing she knew he was visiting friends in Fairyland, and then he started sending letters written on leaves instead of paper, and now..." she hesitates. 

"Now?" 

"He just sends the leaves." Red finishes. 

The cheerleader gasps. “I bet there's pollen all over his beautiful hair too!" 

Seriously? 

"We can only assume." Red says, face just as solemn as her mother's court isn't. "It's a real shame. The fairies want a princess on a milk-white horse to get him back, and she's got to ride in on the darkest night of the year too. Holding the moon in a jar as her guide." 

The girl looks about five seconds from whipping out her phone to write the lies down. "A real princess? Or would like, a pop princess work instead? Chad always said how much he loved Marcielle Lance. I bet he'd love me forever if I sent... I mean, if somebody tipped her off that the Prince of Charmington needed her to save him from Fairyland." 

"The letters didn't say." Red shrugs. "But it never hurts to try, I guess." 

The cheerleader is practically vibrating. "I've got to go make a— I mean, get to class! Thanks, though!" 

Red lifts a hand to her retreating back. "Buh-bye.” 

+ 

Time travel vertigo is a pain in the butt to recover from. 

Red falls into Chloe as soon as the world stops reshaping itself around them. 

Chloe shoves her off. “Where are we?” 

“More like when are we.” Red corrects, staggering upright. “And I think the answer is not far enough. Look, that roof looks exactly like it does now.” 

“It’s a roof.” 

“Yeah, and all the fancy pants brochures that you sent to Wonderland while we were sealed off from the rest of the world show that roof looking different than it does now. In our current time. Because it’s new, princess. We got brochures about replacing it.” 

Chloe closes her eyes. Red can see her breathing slowly, and stifles a grin. Her roommates hates being wrong, which works out great, because Red loves seeing her royal highness mad. 

“We can’t be here. We have to leave, now.” 

“We just got here. The watch has a cooldown time of one minute for every year travelled. We can’t leave yet.” 

“No, we have to leave.” Chloe grabs Red’s hand. “My bother is here. This is two years ago. He’s going to be here, on campus, and he’s going to recognize me, and our whole cover is going to be blown if we alter time in ways we weren’t expecting!” 

Oh, no.

“No,” Red says slowly, stretching out her words around the grin that’s threatening to take over her whole face. “No, I don’t think we do have to leave. After all the stories I’ve heard about this brother, I wanna meet this guy.” 

“You don’t.” 

“He’s an Olympic level swimmer, an astronaut, a curse-breaking mommy’s boy, and he was interesting enough to get kidnapped by fairies? I can’t wait to meet him.” 

Chloe stomps her foot. “You know that’s not true. I make all that stuff up, because—“ 

“Because why, princess?” 

“Because the real reason is boring.” 

Red glances down at the pocketwatch. One minute left until they can leave. “After growing up in wonderland, you think I don’t like boring? My mother is trying to stage a coup as we speak. She raised me on a diet of all-excitement, all the time. I want boring. I love boring. Please, for the love of time, give me something boring to think about until we can get out of here.” 

Chloe glares. “No.” 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not telling you. The longer we stand here arguing the closer we are to getting out of here. I don’t have to tell you, I just have to stall until we’re out of time.” 

“Bold words from the girl who’s not carrying the time machine.” 

“You want to get out of here just as much as I do,” Chloe says, logically. Oh, how much Red wants to hate her. “You’re not going to leave us here, in the wrong time, just because you want to know where my brother’s hiding.” 

Red leans in. “Hiding, huh?” 

“You—“ Chloe slaps a hand over her own mouth. “I’m not saying another word. We can’t alter time before we’re supposed to, it’s too risky.” 

“Twenty seconds. Tick tock, princess. I could leave you here if you won’t tell me.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“You don’t know what I’d do.” Red hisses, leaning in so close that she can see the way Chloe’s eyes are tracking the motion of the pocketwatch. Her roommate’s eyes are pretty. It’s not fair that she’s got such an awful habit of keeping secrets to offset her pretty face. 

“I’ll tell you,” Chloe offers. “But only once we turn the watch.” 

“Deal.” 

“Now.” 

Red cranks the watch, but carefully this time, so that her fingers don’t slip before they’re ready and send them another two or three years back. 

“You’re sure you want to know?” 

The watch is hot in her hand. The dial is shivering under her fingers. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

Chloe throws an arm around her waist, and grabs the watch out of her hand. “He shaved his head and got too embarrassed to show his face in public!”