#they're attempting to get it all fixed up again so they can get around the mojave faster (my little headcanon for fast travelling

[vault81]

Had the geck reinstalled for 5 minutes, and I'm already making the twins a player home in goodsprings lmao

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[heavyhitterheaux]

No Judgments

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You and Joe do the 'We listen and don't judge' TikTok challenge 🤭

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a few gorgeous anons 💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After wiping your mouth and rinsing it out with mouthwash from your sudden episode of morning sickness, you made your way back into the bedroom where your husband was still peacefully sleeping.

You attempted to climb back into the bed without waking him up, but feeling the weight shift made him flutter his eyes open. Joe had never been a really deep sleeper, but since he found out you were pregnant, usually he wakes up at the smallest noise and it left you surprised this morning when he didn’t feel you get out of bed the first time.

“Baby, you okay?” He asked as he pulled you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“Your children won't let me be great and made me throw up again.” You quietly answered and you had now grown frustrated since it seemed like the morning sickness wasn't only happening in the morning, but throughout the day.

“You want me to make you some tea?”

“Yes, please. I'm miserable.”

Joe then placed his hand on your belly and began to rub small circles on it as he noticed that your bump was actually starting to show.

“Babies, stop making mommy sick so she can sleep. Daddy’s orders.”

“Hopefully they'll listen to you because clearly they pay me no attention.”

“When they hear ‘the voice’ for the first time, they're going to be running for their lives.” Joe said, referring to the first time he heard it and made sure to stay out of your way for the rest of the day.

“I still to this day have no idea what you are talking about when you say that.”

“It's a voice you make when you get really annoyed. Ask Ja'Marr, he'll back me up.”

“I just think you two are being dramatic.”

“Says the most dramatic person in the room….”

“Husband! Take it back!”

“Nope, it's facts and I'm not going to lie to you.”

All you did was roll your eyes in response as Joe raised his eyebrows at you.

“Don't catch an attitude with me because it's something you didn't want to hear. Fix your face.”

“I'll fix mine if you let me ride yours.”

“I… These pregnancy hormones are giving me a run for my money and got me fighting for my damn life. One thing at a time and let's get your nausea under control first.”

Later on in the day, when Joe was sitting at the island in the kitchen, you went and sat next to him while setting up your phone. He quickly noticed and looked over at you.

“Whatever it is, no.”

“But baby! Pleaseeee?!”

You knew Joe hated being in front of a camera, but you loved doing TikTok challenges with him from time to time.

Sighing and finally giving in, he put his phone down to give you his undivided attention.

“Okay, what are we doing?”

“We listen and we don't judge challenge. I sent you a few so you would have an example to know what to do.”

“Only because it's you. Let's get this over with.”

“Yay! And I want you to go first.” You told him as you pressed record.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When I feel like I'm getting sick, I act like I'm so drained so I can't do anything so you'll baby me.” Joe was the first one up and smiled at you when he was finished.

“What the? I baby you anyway! Like 98% of the time.”

“AHT! No judging. You just take it to a different level. Moving on.”

“You are literally MY baby though. My 6’4 baby and I'm 4'11, but who's to say anything about that? I love you bad and I see you're using it to your advantage.”

“To get endless cuddles from my wife? Hell yeah I'm taking advantage of it.”

“Okay, next.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So after you fall asleep since your bedtime is like 6 pm.. like a grandpa…” You started to say, but was immediately interrupted.

“9 during the season!”

“Stop interrupting me, husband! After you fall asleep, I go and buy things on your phone and make sure to delete the notifications so you don't find out.”

“BABY!”

“HEY! I BUY YOU THINGS TOO!”

“And you hide the packages too because I literally never see any of them.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When we were at LSU and we were just friends, I memorized your schedule and knew you had a lot of late classes and I would purposely wait for you if it was dark outside to walk you to your car to make sure you were safe. And it gave me a chance to spend more time with you.”

“So, that's why it seemed like you were always around? Aww, you love me!” You told him as you pinched his cheek.

“And don't you ever forget it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“During last season when I saw you wore THOSE PANTS, yes you know the ones I'm talking about, after I specifically told you not to because they looked crazy and you wore them anyway, you kept asking if I've seen them but I hid them somewhere in our house and they have been hidden for so long that I forgot their location.”

“I LOVE THOSE PANTS, BABE!”

“THEY ARE HIDEOUS, BABY. NO!”

“I'm making it my mission later to find my pants.”

“I know Ja'Marr probably bought you those ugly ass pants.”

“AHT! You're judging!”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When you're mad at me, I purposely go into the cabinet and make all of the jar lids tighter so you have to come and talk to me.” Joe confessed and you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at the same time.

“SERIOUSLY? And here I am thinking I'm a weak bitch! I can lift almost as heavy as you can! And a jar lid is what does me in?!?”

“Works every time.”

“I'm going to have to do it myself next time.”

“Like that will ever happen…” Joe said and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Okay, so….” You started to say as you glanced at Joe and he sighed knowing that something crazy and out of pocket was about to come out of your mouth.

“Oh shit, here we go.”

“Sometimes, I purposely piss you off and I don't know that you know you do this but your voice gets deeper and it turns me on so bad. Like your voice by itself turns me on, but when you get mad, whew. Sign me up for EVERY position. It's happening now and I'm just thinking about it. Gets your girl all hot and bothered.” You quietly said as Joe stared at you since you were now squirming in your chair and trying to keep your legs as tight as possible.

“Are you seriously squirming over there? And I’m not surprised by this in the slightest. Just wait until we're finished with this, I'm about to turn you every way but loose. And hold on! I thought we were keeping this PG!?” He asked as he leaned over and kissed you.

“Don't threaten me with a good time and when are the videos we do ever PG? Especially when it's something like this? And don't get me started because I will literally rip off your clothes at this very moment.”

“Good point and see? And that's why you're pregnant now.”

“Because my husband is fine as hell and I'll fu-” Joe's eyes went wide as he promptly covered your mouth with his hand and in protest, you licked it, making him look at you dumbfounded.

“No! Do not finish that sentence. This is really about to turn into something else if you don't stop. And did you just lick my hand!?”

“I wanna lick something else too, but I'll save that for when we turn the camera off.” You tried to whisper, but failed miserably.

“BABY QUIT IT!” Joe pleaded and all you did was shrug.

“I was like this before you married me and you should have known that once this ring was on my finger, I was about to be ten times worse.”

“Hmm, that's putting it lightly.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“I hide some of your perfumes so that you'll only use my favorite ones that I've bought for you.”

“Babe! How many have you hidden!? And here I am thinking that I've lost them!”

“Hmm, not telling.”

“You're annoying.”

“I'm cute and you love me.”

“Survey says that both of those responses are correct.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So, when you got hurt during your rookie year, I was watching the game and saw it happen and my heart immediately dropped. Because we literally had an argument hours before that game and we weren't talking and now I think back on it, I had no idea what the argument was about. But, I low-key felt that you getting hurt was somehow my fault. I remember packing my things and getting on a plane and crying the entire way there and I honestly didn't know if you wanted to see me at that point. Because I had sent you a text right before the game and you didn't respond. And to this day, I still feel like that.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before Joe said anything.

“That… baby that wasn't your fault. It was a bad hit. And of course I wanted to see you. You were actually the first person I asked for. I never knew you felt like that.”

“I hate seeing you in pain and I…. I'm about to cry again.”

“I can tell, hormones.” Joe replied as he wiped your eyes for you.

“But I came back from it because of you and how you helped me. You being there was enough. You love me bad, don't you?” He asked as he was trying to get you to smile.

“So much, and you know it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Ever since you told me you were pregnant, I watch you until you fall asleep to make sure you’re okay. Doesn't matter how long it takes or if I have to get up early. You're my priority.”

“And, I'm about to cry again. Damn these hormones.”

“You are literally MY person and I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Ladies, get you a husband who treats you like the queen you are every day because….. shoutout to Jimmy and Robin because the two of them gave me one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“Wait… ONE of the best things? I'm not THE best thing!?”

“Hmm, you're top five.” You replied as you shrugged.

“Uh? You mean number one?”

“If it makes you feel better, the top five things all have to do with you.”

“That sounds suspicious, but I'll let it slide for now.”

“I love you Joseph Lee Burrow!” You exclaimed as you kissed his cheek and wrapped your arms around him.

“Stop trying to change the subject and I know for a damn fact you didn't just call me by my full name. I get anxious when you do that.”

“Wait, huh?”

“We've gone over this a million times. My name is BABY to you. When it comes to you I don't know who Joseph is.”

“And he calls me the dramatic one.”

[pinkanonwrites]

"Oh! That's What That Does?!"

All art by @archie-sunshine

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 2400+ Words NSFW, Valveplug, Plug 'N Play, Mild Sparkplay, Accidental Stimulation, Edging, Human Reader, GN Pronouns

Ahh, the inherent eroticism of repairing your machine.~ I've had this one cooking for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! I've also gotten pretty attached to this mechanic Reader, so they'll likely pop up again with other cassettes (and maybe even some other Decepticons!)

NSFW WRITING AND IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT!

“Ey… EY! Careful wit’ dat! It’s touchy!”

“Rumble,” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You're making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I wouldn't be complainin’ if you'd stop touchin’ all up on bits that don't gotta be touched! Rootin’ around in there like I'm one’a your crappy organic machines!”

Removing your hands from Rumble’s open chest, you tossed them roughly into the air. “Y'know what? Fine. Do it yourself. Better yet, get Frenzy to pull the shrapnel out of your chest. That'll go great.”

You would have slid off of Rumble’s lap and stormed off, if not for his massive servos closing around your wrists with an unexpected delicacy. Your efforts to remove your hands only reinforced his grip, using just enough force to keep you from leaving without crushing your wrists entirely.

“H-Hey, no need ta be so hasty! Look, I’m just steamed cause'a the battle, dat’s all. Frenz’ can't do dis, it's gotta be someone more… dainty. Y’know. Little human hands and all dat.” The harsh glow of his visor had dulled slightly as his gaze cast down to your hands. You rolled your eyes, wrists finally slipping from his grip as you settled back in. 

Dangling wires and sparking shrapnel dotted his open chest cavity, illuminated by the light of his spark chamber. Rumble had staggered off-balance into your workshop whining about the prodding pieces of broken metal keeping him from transforming properly, yet you’d barely managed to get two wires back in place before he started squirming and whingeing and slinging verbal abuse at you.

 Not that you weren't used to it, any interactions with Rumble and Frenzy usually involved some level of bullying. Fortunately, the two cassettes are also incredibly predictable. As soon as you would threaten to take away or withhold what they're asking for, they’d start falling all over themselves with apologies and placations. After all, you may not have been the only mechanic in the area, but you were certainly their favorite.

“Are you going to actually let me work? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?”

“Yellin’? Who's yellin’? Yer the mechanic here, my spark is in your squishy little hands. Do your magic, doc.” He sat back again, servos clutching the edges of your workbench in a show of effort, a genuine attempt to keep them still (or however genuine any show of rule-following from Rumble could be.)

“That's what I thought. Now let me actually fix a few things before you start whining again.” Your gloved hands dipped back into his chest cavity, skirting the edges of his spark chamber to pick away at the bits of loose shrapnel stuck in some of the wires. His frame shuddered, a hiss of steam escaping through his dentae as your knuckles brushed the underside of the spark casing.

“C-Careful,” He said again, with significantly less bite to his tone.

“Does it hurt?”

“Somethin’ like dat.”

“I'll be careful, so let me know if it gets to be too much.” You smoothed a palm down the armor covering his stomach, flinching back when you heard another sharp hiss of steam.

“I’m fine! It's fine! Just… do ya gotta be all on top’a me like dis?”

“I can't reach properly if you're laying down. If you're standing you might keel over on me, and I really don't feel like being squished to death today.” He let out a low grumble as you jacked another cable back into its proper port. “I'll try to be quick, that way you won't have to worry about my ‘human germs’ and you can get outta here. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-”

“Be careful. I know.”

And with that you went to work, separating and organizing cables, taping off leaky tubing and removing pieces of scrap metal as gently as you could. Every once in a while Rumble would jerk or twitch beneath your touch, letting out a muffled curse or huff but sparing you from his usual complaints. It was… uncharacteristically quiet, for sure. This was the most extensive repair you'd ever done on him, though, so maybe he was just having surgery jitters.

“Okay, I've gotten most of the shrapnel out. But there's a piece right behind your spark casing.”

“Well? Get it outta there!”

“I'm going to, but I need to get my whole hand in there. I'm warning you now because it's going to be bumping up against your spark casing a lot. I'm going to do my best but you have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

Rumble let out a long, pathetic groan. “Actually doc, maybe you can just leave dat one in there? F-For funsies?”

“Eh?! Rumble, I’m not gonna just ‘leave it in there’! It's gotta come out.”

“Something's gonna come out if you keep proddin’ around in there like dat…”

“What was that?”

“Gh! Nothin’! Don't worry ‘bout it!”

“...Okay. I’m gonna start now. Are you ready?” Rumble only responded with gritted dentae and a tense nod. Working your gloved hand under his spark chamber, you could feel the ambient energy making the hairs on your arm stand on end as you felt for the jagged edge of broken metal. Your glove blocked your view entirely, so you were left blindly groping your way up the metal surface, feeling for anything bent or out of place. When your fingers could no longer reach any further while still avoiding the casing, you slid forward and ducked slightly into Rumble’s open chest, the back of your hand pressing up against the underside of his spark chamber.

CLANG!

You jumped, and if it weren't for Rumble’s arm wrapping around you and almost crushing you into his open chest you may have jostled the sensitive chamber even further. You slid your hand back again, easing off of the reinforced glass, and his grip receded.

“What the hell was that? And what was that clang?”

“I said don't worry ‘bout it!” He hissed, voice glitchy with static. “Everythin’s totally normal, I dunno why you're getting all jumpy ‘bout- MMNGH?!” You moved your hand up again into the same position, and Rumble let out an embarrassingly high whimper. You glanced up at his face, a flush of pink behind the usual grey and beading with coolant… and something clicked.

“Oh my God are you getting off on this?”

“N-No!”

Behind you you heard a sharp snikt, and the sound of pressurizing hydraulics.

“...Maybe?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“H-Hey, don't go gettin’ a big head or nothin’! A bot’s spark chamber is sensitive! Don't go thinkin’ this is cause of your squishy frame or your soft little digits or nothin’!” He seemed to almost shrink in on himself, face plate practically glowing as his shoulders pulled up around his helm. You'd never say it to his face, but he looked surprisingly… small, at this moment. You heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to get this last piece out, alright? It's the last one. And whatever happens while I'm doing that..? It just happens. We won't bring it up again, no need to be embarrassed. Deal?”

“‘Deal?!?’” He squawked, positively scandalized. “How do I know yer not gonna gossip with Frenz’ the next time he's in for a tune-up?”

“Well Frenzy usually never lets me get a word in edgewise, first of all.” You huffed. This was way more than you'd signed up for. “I'm not going to make fun of you, Rumble. Let’s just get you patched up, then you can head home. Okay?”

His mouth was pulled into a tight, wobbly frown as he glanced down at you, choking out a single word. “...Promise?”

“I promise.”

“...Slag. alright, let's get dis over with.” He lolled his head back against the table with a clank, resigning himself to his fate. This time, when your knuckles brushed his spark casing, he couldn’t stifle his soft moan. Your fingers felt further and further up, until almost your entire hand was behind the glass bubble containing his pulsing spark. Finally, you could feel the jagged piece of metal. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it an experimental tug. It stuck fast, and your hand bumping against Rumble's spark only pulled another surprised moan from him.

“W-Watch it!” He yelped, sounding too fucked-out to come across as actually threatening.

“It's really stuck in there. I'm going to start working it out, so let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Wh… workin’ it out? Whadda ya- ohhh…~” 

With your thumb and forefinger gripping the edge of the broken metal, you began to wiggle it gently back and forth to ease it from the plating and wires around it. Each time you moved the back of your hand rubbed up against the far side of his spark chamber, warmth radiating through your glove as Rumble started to vent more harshly.

“Slag… slag! Don't think it's ever been touched back there before. Feels… feels crazy.” He moaned. The metal of your work table shrieked and crumpled like cardboard under his iron grip, desperate to keep his servos off of himself or, Primus forbid, you. The piece stuck firm, and as you braced your other hand against the outside paneling of his chest to readjust your balance he let out a sharp, staticky yelp. “S-STOP!”

You froze immediately. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

A few shuddering vents were your only response for a moment, Rumble’s visor lights flickering frantically as he tried to steady himself. “Whooo… Almost blew my top for a second there.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Yer the one that told me to tell ya if I need ya to stop! I'll be slagged to the Pit before I let some ‘squishy’ run my charge like dat.”

“...Can I start again? I’m making some progress here.”

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yer good.”

You let out another soft sigh, trying to focus on the rhythmic sktch sktch sktch of metal on metal rather than Rumble’s shivering whines. His vocalizer pitched and warbled with static, attempts to stifle his own words slowly giving way to a deluge of fucked-out babbles.

“Ah! Gh! Ohh, mmnh, stupid little hands feelin’ all- nnh!~ Jus’ get it outta there! Please?”

I’m working on it. You’re doing good, just hang in there.” Your placations only resulted in another desperate moan. After what couldn’t have been more than another thirty seconds or so, he blurted out again.

“Ah! Stop!”

You retracted your hand for a moment, letting Rumble gasp for breath above you in a futile attempt to cool his core. You rubbed at his chest paneling as he shivered beneath you hard enough that you thought bolts were going to start coming undone. Even the paneling you were seated upon was burning up, heat seeping through the fabric of your coveralls. His glowing face plate was slick with coolant. Without thinking, you reached up and swept away a bead of it with your thumb, making him jump.

“H-Hey, quit dat…” He groaned, all bite lost from his tone.

“Rumble… The more you keep stopping me the longer this is going to take.”

“You think I don’t know dat?!” One of his arms draped dramatically over his face. “I’m tryin’! But you just keep pokin’ around in there and it’s all touchy and it’s makin’ me feel like my spike’s gonna burst and I can’t take it anymore!” He sniffled. Could Cybertronians even sniffle? You weren’t sure, but he sounded close to tears.

“Rumble… Have you ever actually edged yourself before?”

“Whu- Whuh? How’s dat any of yer business?”

“I’m just thinking…” You ran a placating hand down his shivering plating. “If you haven’t it can be really overwhelming, and-”

“I can handle it! I-I can!”

“Let me finish. It can be really overwhelming, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. Just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” You took a slow, steadying breath, and after a second he mimicked it. “Good. Just think about letting go, okay? I’m not going to judge you. Just think about it.”

He let out a low, pitying grumble, peeking at you from behind his arm plating. “...You can start again.”

Once again, your hands dipped into his chest cavity. Only this time you slid both hands up behind his spark casing, gripping as much of the broken metal as you could reach. As you rocked it back and forth Rumble’s moans returned with a fervor, one servo finally flying to cup your lower back.

“Ah! Ah! Slag, oh slag please! Please don’t stop I’m so fraggin’ close.” He fisted the back of your uniform, crumpling the cheap fabric between his digits. “C’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon I need it!”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby. Just let it happen.”

With a metallic shriek and a gush of brackish oil the shrapnel popped free, the force enough to send you sprawling if not for Rumble’s servo in the small of your back. Of course, said unexpected force also slammed the backs of both your hands right into the underside of his spark chamber, and Rumble’s voice box screeched into a wail of radio static. Something hot and sticky splattered up the back of your coveralls; said something you decidedly were not going to look at until later. His frame rattled and shivered beneath you, steam venting and joints glitching and spark pulsating a near-blinding glow.  Finally, after a burst of noise and sparks and twitching, he went slack beneath you, helm clanking against the workbench as his optics flickered.

As delicately as you could, you removed the oil-slick shrapnel and let it clatter onto the floor before shedding your gloves and dabbing at his face plate with the cuff of your sleeve. With the whir of an old monitor blipping back to life, his visor blinked back up to its standard brightness.

“Whuh… Wheh?” He garbled.

“How you feeling, hun?”

“Like I got struck by lightnin’... but in like a nasty way.”

You choked back a snort. “Well, I’ve got all the worst of it over with. Feel free to rest for a while if you need it. I’m gonna go change my jumpsuit.” 

He let you slide off his lap without a fight, not even commenting until you’d turned around to make your way over to your office. Only then did he let out a low, salacious whistle when he’d finally caught sight of the back of your uniform.

“Comm me next time yer free, doc. Then I can repay da favor.”

[variousqueerthings]

the doctor being a part of the noble family has the energy of an addams family cousin -- imagines rose being in a school play and the doctor fixing up some gizmo to open up a tiny gap to some part of the universe where stars shine particularly brightly for midsummer night's dream, and accidentally almost levels the school by misjudging how close they are to this one very dense planet (people in the audience confusedly waving at aliens who are just as confusedly waving their tentacles back from a thousand years in the future a million light years away. everybody afterwards talks about the great special effects, but they're not sure what it has to do with the story)

people trying to figure out who this "the doctor" person is and why he's living with the nobles, and always trying to catch out that there's something going on, but the doctor's answers to all their inquiries are so lowkey bonkers as to bamboozle any further attempts (so where are you from again? oh just this place, well, I say place, planet, well, I say planet I don't actually know these days, but somewhere certainly... is Ipswich a place? how do you know mrs noble again? we travelled together for a bit, and then, well you know how it is when you get hit with a face full of radiation, ey *snort-laughs at his own joke* and what's your name again? doctor, the "the" is a pronoun, it can get confusing I know, but people on this planet choose their names all the time, you'll catch up)

just this house gremlin in a setup that nobody from the outside understands, toddling about, showing up at every event that rose has going for her, wearing little pride pins that might be partially for himself as well as for rose (gay??? one of those trans ones????), always seems to be talking about strange places that nobody has heard of but doesn't want to admit to, occasionally goes eerily still and unnerving around people who are cruel and mean, knows a lot about history, but peppers it with facts that can't possibly be true, gets on very well with shaun who always answers questions with "the doctor's part of the family, youknow?" they do not know, but at this point it's too rude to keep asking

[moonbeamwritings]

“Nanamiiiinn,” Gojo croons, dragging out the end of that stupid nickname with a knowing smirk. Nanami heaves a sigh at the sound. It's tolerable enough coming from Itadori, sure, but it's insufferable when Nanami knows Gojo is using it to goad him on.

“I didn’t take you for that kind of guy,” Gojo continues when Nanami doesn't answer. He bends at the waist to speak into Nanami’s ear, a hand curling around the back of his chair to trap him in the seat. “Comin’ into work with lipstick smeared all over your face.”

Nanami can't help but roll his eyes. "Ha ha. I'm not whipping out my phone just so you'll say 'HA! Made you look!'" Gojo's attempted the same juvenile prank one too many times for Nanami to have any sort of faith in this new line of teasing.

"Oh?" Gojo's stepped around the table to drop into the seat across from him, a smirk evident on his features. "Don't believe me, huh?"

Before Nanami can stop him, Gojo is pulling out his phone and taking a picture with an audible click. Smugly, he turns the screen so Nanami can see for himself.

The photo reveals a shiny pink smudge across the high point of his cheek and dotted on the corner of his lips. Nanami's nose wasn't spared in the onslaught either it seems, one mark crossing the bridge while the other is perfectly placed on the tip.

"It's a good look for you!" Gojo assures him, smiling down at the photo. "It's not every day I get to see you look so..." He thinks for a moment. "Soft."

Nanami rolls his eyes, again, and rubs the pad of his thumb at the corner of his mouth. "You're insufferable."

Gojo's mouth is agape. "I won't take credit for such a masterpiece, Nanamin. You know me better than that!" The comment seems to spark something in the other sorcerer's mind, and Nanami does not like the look that crosses his face. Not one bit. "But I have my suspicions as to who our little lipstick owner may be."

When Gojo starts marking the possible suspects by counting on his fingers, Nanami decides to quit while he's ahead and see himself out, his quiet time thoroughly ruined. He moves to stand, but Kugisaki and Itadori enter the room before he can get too far.

The teens greet the pair, and Nanami has one foot out the door when Kugisaki's eyes narrow in on him. He feels stuck beneath it, like he's suddenly trapped in quicksand.

She gestures to his nose. "You've got something there." A pause. "And there."

"I'm aware, thank you."

"Is it-" Itadori leans closer to inspect the situation, too. This is nightmarish, Nanami thinks, embarrassed at being so scrutinized. "Is it lipstick?"

Gojo's response is snide. Immediate. "It is."

Nanami shoots him a glare over Kugisaki's shoulder. Oh, if looks could kill.

"I've seen this shade before." Kugisaki says, fixing Itadori with a puzzled expression. "Do you think it's-"

The whole interaction is innocent, Nanami knows. The teens aren't trying to rake him over the coals. They're not intending to prolong his suffering. But with every second of debate, Gojo's grin only grows, the answer to the mystery coming closer and closer to his grasp.

Kugisaki's face alights with excitement when she finally puts a face and name to her thought. "Oh, I know!"

Oh no.

Your name falls from Kugisaki's lips as if in slow motion. Every letter, every agonizing second drawn out in near comedic fashion.

The look on Nanami's face must give him away because Gojo is up out of his chair in record time, an accusatory finger pointing in his direction. "I knew it! I knew you two were a thing!"

Nanami ignores the display entirely, nodding politely at the students. "Have a nice afternoon, you two."

He retreats down the hallway to the echoing sounds of Gojo's elation, making his way towards the nearest bathroom to rid himself of the pink marks. Nanami had noticed your lipstick this morning, had even complimented it, and he was clearly so wrapped up in your kisses that he hadn't thought to check for any evidence of them as he made his way out the door.

You're partially to blame, Nanami decides as his phone starts to vibrate with messages from you – no doubt having already seen the picture Gojo took. You could've, should've, warned him before he left the apartment looking like this.

He reluctantly opens his phone to half a dozen texts from you, ranging from telling him how funny it all was to how cute he looked with little kiss marks all over his face.

This is all your fault.

The three dots pop up, and then: You weren't complaining this morning!

He wasn't, that much he can't deny. Nanami would've stood there all morning accepting kisses if you'd let him.

My reputation is ruined.

It adds to your charm!

Nanami starts to remove the lipstick as best he can, but he knows it won't make much difference. Gojo will still tease him for it, and you'll still pepper his face with kisses every time you see him — lipstick or not.

[sirhamburrger]

and some roommates (don't worry, we're cool!)

a/n: thinking silly thoughts today... having sae itoshi and ryusei shidou as roommates while getting involved with rin itoshi… (unrealistic since they'd both probably be really rich by the end of bllk, whenever that is, or adulthood) for the purpose of this drabble please pretend they are two broke boys 🙏

wc: 739 || tags: all characters are 18+, gn!reader, reader is in uni, situationship ryusae once again putting the bl in blue lock, background rin x reader, 700 words of domestic crack and more || header from bllk manga

(continued here in my christmas miniseries, more rin x reader centric)

it all begins when you're looking for an apartment in downtown tokyo. but since you can't afford one of your own at the moment, you're looking to see if anyone could use another roommate to split rent with.

and after days of scouring the internet, you find a promising place. clean, well-furnished, spacious - but there's already a couple living together in it...

oh well. the more the better. 

so you show up at their door after a couple of text messages exchanged with one of the very enthusiastic co-tenants, hoping to get a better look at the place. you ring the bell. no response. you try again. and again. maybe they're out -

“shidou, will you just get the damn door already?”

oh. okay.

the door finally swings open, and you're greeted by a tall, tan-skinned and vaguely familiar-looking man with a terrifying grin. you take a step back, a little shocked, but he just beams at you.

“you're the one who's been messaging me about the apartment, aren’tcha? come on in!”

he loops an arm around your shoulder, introducing himself as he walks you in. he's ryusei shidou, a member of the national football team who played in an exhibition match a few years back (which explains why you find him so familiar).

“so, uh…” you shudder slightly when shidou fixes his gaze on you. “where's your girlfriend? or, uh, boyfriend, i guess. partner. i should probably meet them.”

and it's at this moment that you abandon your inital thoughts of finding another place because sae freaking itoshi steps into the kitchen??

you think you might just faint. 

“o-oh my gosh, sae,” you stammer,  “it's an honour to meet you –”

he stares at you blankly, then at shidou with murderous intent in his eyes.

“who is this?”

“i'm not, like, a side chick or anything,” you quickly clarify, but shidou simply grins.

“we need someone to split rent with, and-”

“and i thought i would just check your place out, seeing as i'm in the same boat,” you finish. “but you two, as a couple, should probably discuss this. you know what? i can wait outside-"

“wait,” sae says slowly, pure, unadulterated disgust in his eyes. “he told you we're a couple?”

shidou's face falls. "we're not?"

and that's the story of how you move in with two men around your age who have some weird dynamic going on that you don't question.

japan's talented young midfielder is a great roommate (then again, you did go into this with no expectations whatsoever). he does the dishes when he's supposed to, takes the heavier bags off your hands during grocery runs with you, stays quiet after ten pm. he makes breakfast for you and shidou in the mornings, and teaches you about football.

ryusei shidou, though... oh, you get why sae's so sick of him now.

he takes the most massive dumps in the bathroom and doesn't flush. or put the seat back up after he's done. or turn the tap off properly. (he's flooded the sink before.) speaking of sinks, he leaves his dirty dishes in the sink. sometimes you want to tear his diabolical dye job off his scalp. sae informs you he has has tried just that and failed to do so.

but he does make you laugh a lot with his jokes and antics.

"one thing you should know about genius sae-chan is that he loves back hugs." "please don't speak for me."

and the two of you absolutely love making fun of sae's attempts to properly reconcile with his brother. you'll be peering over at his phone screen, ryusei on his right and you on his left, as he types out something about lunch plans tomorrow.

"you spelled 'restaurant' wrong for a second there."

ryusei dodges the pillow that comes flying at his face.

they've known each other for longer than you've known them, but they tell you things they wouldn't ever tell the other. like when ryusei quietly admitted to you one night, that despite all his careless flirting, he does really want to be with sae, in a more-than-friends kind of way. or like when sae told you in confidence that he secretly likes ryusei's back hugs.

and when against all odds, a certain green-haired boy in your lectures starts talking to you, you shudder to think that you now have something in common with ryusei - being deeply obsessed with an itoshi sibling.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[spiriteddreams]

nanami kento likes to be on time to everything. but when you're pressing kisses to his lips, his nose, his cheeks, he finds that he doesn't quite mind running late this time. after all, it's to meet gojo, so for all he cares, the white haired sorcerer can wait for an eternity as he indulges in your love. his hands rest on your waist as you stand between his legs, humming to yourself as you help to straighten his tie and press another kiss to his lips.

"i'm going to be late," he murmurs, but you don't miss the way he chases after your lips, searching for another.

your hands run up his chest until they're resting on his shoulders and you roll your eyes fondly and say, "you don't seem to be in a rush." it's the truth, but really, how can he be in a rush when you're looking at him so sweetly, holding his gaze as if daring him to be the first to look away. he pulls you closer instead, curling his fingers around you as he hums nonchalantly.

"i'd much rather be here with you," nanami admits. you feel your face warm at his words, so simple and yet said in that signature low voice of his, laced with all the love and adoration he holds for you. he's never been the best with his words, and you know this. without having to say it, you know exactly what he's saying.

nanami kento expresses his love through his actions. he swears to love you in the flowers he brings home everyday after work, and in the morning coffee that he brews as you sluggishly climb out of bed after him. he seals his promises with the slow kisses that you share in empty classrooms of tokyo jujutsu tech, as if you were both still in school, young and chasing after one another but too afraid to make the first move.

"you know i have to get to work too," and yet you don't make an attempt to pull away form him either. "i promised shoko i'd buy her a coffee." nanami hums and you can feel the way his fingers start to gently press into your clothes, subtly pushing you towards him. he doesn't have to say it, but you know that he wants you to indulge him just a bit longer. a glance at the clock in your room has you sighing softly.

"kento," you say softly. he savors the way you say his name, searing it into his memory as he fixes you with a knowing look, a smile tugging up on his lips as he tilts his head just barely.

"one more, for good luck?" he teases. you huff out a sigh, knowing that he'll ask for another, and then another, and before you know it, both your lips will be swollen and eyes glassy as you're rushing to leave home.

he chuckles, as if reading your thoughts. "i'll need all the luck i can get if i'm meeting with gojo." you hate to admit that this time, he has a point. in the back of your mind, you wonder how long it'll take for nanami to pull out his phone and send you a text, asking you to come save him from the sugary eccentric sorcerer who's roped him into training one of his new students.

"for good luck then," the kiss you give is chaste, far too quick for his liking and he doesn't care if you laugh at the way he sharply pulls you back in. the kiss he presses to your lips is searing and you nearly stumble forward had it not been for your hands immediately moving to grip his shoulders. you lose yourself in the moment, hands wandering just as his do.

it's only when the sharp ringing of your phone cuts through the room that you pull away to reach over to see shoko's name on screen. she doesn't even give you the chance to greet her when you pick up, instead opting to say, "i hope you're not sucking faces right now."

"if you're upset about your coffee running a bit late, i'll buy you another one tomorrow," you reply fondly. nanami huffs next to you, eyeing your phone as if contemplating grabbing it and tossing it across the room so he could pick up where you left off.

"i'll hold you to that," shoko sighs. it's silent for a beat before she speaks up again, "hey nanami, gojo's been texting me nonstop. he said you're not answering your phone." the sorcerer in front of you mumbles something under his breath as you bid shoko goodbye, promising to bring her coffee soon.

"i suppose that's our sign to go," you step out of his grasp and nanami nods as he tucks away his phone in his pocket. already, he's thinking about coming home and making dinner this time. he's thinking about what flowers the corner store might have today when you pat his chest and go to cup his cheek.

"have a good day my love," you smile at him. and in every silly cliche way possible, nanami's breath catches in his throat. this is what it must feel like to be in love, the kind of love that the books you ask him to read try to describe, but never fully capture.

"i'll see you later," he says softly, already leaning towards you, "text me if you need anything." you both hesitate, go to pull away, but fall back into one another for one last kiss before you go, your giggles still echoing in nanami's mind as he turns to go meet gojo.

nanami's always liked to be on time, but for you, he'll make every exception.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: this is me coping and trying to emotionally prepare to watch the episode later

[indulgentdaydream]

Bliss and Misery

Dad!Jason Todd x Fem!Mom!Reader || Angst; Hurt/No Comfort || Word Count: 1,643

Warnings: dead dove.

i know how much you guys love my domestic!jason fics :3 so here's this one that's been bouncing around in my mind:

The morning sun stretched its fingers, slowly finding its way centimetre by centimetre in order to reach into the small apartment bedroom. The soft warmth spread over Jason's face, giving him a slow and subtle wake-up call.

Jason almost doesn't want to wake up. The plush covers are pulled up to his shoulders. One arm lays over his stomach, resting against the cotton fabric. The other stuffed underneath the pillow, beside his head. He hasn't even opened his eyes yet, but he can feel your presence beside him.

Slowly, he blinks, adjusting to the daylight. He pulls his hand out from under the pillow and runs it across his face. He vaguely remembered something about needing to be up for something. Something about helping Dick with something or another.

He turned his head to the left and all possible worries about sleeping vanished when his eyes found you.

Jason couldn't help but smile. The sight of his girl curled up in the sheets beside him making him feel warmer than the sun ever could. You looked as completely at peace as he felt in the moment. The sunlight stretched over you, as well, illuminating every feature of yours. All of which he loved without a second thought.

Loved as if it was second nature.

As if it was breathing itself.

Here, with the comforter pulled up to your chin, face squished against the pillow, and a small pile of dried drool forming on it, you were safe. He was safe.

You were safe and he was safe and this was everything he had ever wanted to give you.

Peace. Safety. Comfortability.

Love.

He takes the hand resting across his stomach and reaches out to you. There was a stray lock that had fallen out of place. He wanted to fix it for you before it could wake you out of annoyance.

Then he heard the quick padding of feet coming down the hallway.

It filters in through the bedroom door, left open a crack, getting louder with each little slap of a bare foot rushing down the hall. Jason smiles at the sound.

Obviously, he's not the only one awake.

From where he's laying, Jason can only see the top of the door. He listens as the padding feet stop right outside of it, before it begins to slowly creak open. Jason pushes up onto his elbows to get a better look.

There's a small face poking their head around the door, a curious look on their face as they peer up at the bed, trying to determine if their parents are awake. As soon as Jason's head comes up into their view, a large, bright, slightly toothy smile spreads across their whole face.

Jason holds a finger to his lips as your shared toddler pushes the door open the rest of the way. Luckily, it doesn't bang loud enough to wake you up.

"Come to my side," Jason whispers.

The sound of quick padding feet picks up again. Jason lays his head back against his pillow. He gets a second more of peace before there's a small head, covered with dense, black curls, that's appearing next to him, barely visible over the edge of the bed. Next, there's tiny hands. They're reaching up and gripping at the blanket, attempting to pull themself up, only to no avail.

Jason turns and reaches down. He lifts them up with no effort, sitting them onto his chest. His voice is groggy, still full of sleep, as he whispers "Hiya, baby."

A fit of giggles rings throughout the room. His baby leans forward. Two hands settle on either side of Jason's cheeks. His baby grins at him still, two eyes staring into his own, matching ones, and matches his whisper, "Daddy."

Jason chuckles to himself. He gently grabs his toddler's hands, pressing kisses and pretending to nibble on the little, pudgy fingers.

Another round of giggles sound out, a bit louder than before.

You shuffle in your sleep, a small puff of air leaving your lips. The movement grabs the attention of both your baby and your husband.

Your baby flops down, suddenly, off of Jason's chest. They land between you two, on the mattress. One pudgy hand is pushing themself up, the other reaching out to your face, instead. Their whispering voice calls out, "Mommy!"

Jason turns onto his side, facing you, and pulls them back. He gently holds them to his chest with an arm around them, “Shhh," He whispers into their ear, "Mommy’s sleeping.”

"Mommy s'eeping.”

Jason laughs quietly smiling as their baby looks back up at him with that same, bright grin. They look up at him with your eyes, before looking back at you.

...

Your eyes?

Jason shuffles lower in the bed, putting his face next to his baby’s. All four of their eyes are focused on you.

“Isn’t she so pretty?" He whispers, "Look at how pretty Mommy is.”

You look so peaceful. So cozy. So beautiful. With the blanket wrapped around you, your limbs comfortably spread out. Your entire life right in front of you, yet you were blissfully unaware.

“Pretty,” Their baby whispers.

Jason grins, patting their stomach, “Yes. She’s very pretty isn’t she?” Jason lets go of their baby, “Go wake her up.”

Their baby squeals out a fit of giggles again. They immediately crawl forward between the small space. Their hands come down quick, making Jason flinch in preparation for the accidental blow, but they land gently on your face. Their lips come down to messily kiss your closed eyelid.

“Mommy,” they whisper loudly.

You let out a small groan. Your baby grins, gently patting your cheek. You peer one eye open, "What is it?"

Jason grins wide, his hand coming over to smooth over your upper arm through the blanket, “The wake up call came in.”

Their baby sat back on the mattress as you lifted your head, “So you were the first victim," your eyes squinted at the morning light coming in through the window behind Jason, "and you just let ‘em continue their rampage?”

Their baby scoots down to lay between their parents, their face level between theirs, still smiling and happy as could be.

“I was already awake,” Jason smiles, “I let you have five more minutes before the attack began.”

You hum, closing your eyes again, "What a gentleman."

“Mommmmy,” your baby dragged out the word, their little hand reaching out and touching your cheek.

You hum and peak an eye open again, “I’m awake, darling.”

Jason chuckles and leans over, “You better be. We’ve obviously slept in enough according to the little one."

You let out a small laugh. He presses a light kiss to your lips.

A small squeal sounds.

Jason looks down at the look of betrayal on their toddler’s face. Their little hands raise up in question. It makes him laugh wholeheartedly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he leans back down to the toddler instead. You're laughing with him, “Are you feeling left out?”

Jason kisses their cheek. You lean in and kiss their other cheek.

Jason looks back at you, a warm smile on his face. He begins to reach his hand out to cup your face.

His phone starts to ring.

He frowns. You aren't reacting. Neither is your toddler.

His hand hits the pillow where your head should be.

The sheets are cold.

The room is dark. It’s the middle of the night.

There’s no one in front of him. It’s just him in his empty, cold, uncomfortable bed.

There's no warmth. No sunlight. No comfortable blanket. No padding little feet.

No you.

He sits up, throwing his feet over the side of the bed, tossing the covers off of himself. He rubs a hand over his face. One glance at his phone shows that it’s Dick calling. No chance he’s picking up.

Not now.

Jason holds his head in his hands.

Why did he ever break up with you?

To protect you from himself, of course. All he had wanted to give you.

Peace. Safety. Comfortability.

and...

Love.

The phone stopped ringing. A moment later, it started up again.

His life is dangerous. He was dragging you down. You were better off without him. You had the chance to choose a different path than he had.

A path that lowered your chance of sudden death just by association.

But… if that’s the life that he could’ve had with you… a life he hadn’t fully considered himself ever being able to have…

God.

Why did he ever leave?

The sight of that little smile, held in his arms, lit up by the morning light, made his stomach churn so violently he almost darted to the bathroom.

What would their name have been? He didn't know the gender in the dream.

He would have let you name them. He was never good with names.

He thought back on their eyes. He would have wanted them to have your eyes. He would have wanted them to have every single one of your features. It was always easier to those who were as gorgeous as you. Even if you rarely believed him when he tried to convince you that you are.

The phone stopped ringing again.

A text came through. You promised.

Yeah, The image of you laying in the bed, your toddler laying beside you, both smiling up at him, flashed through Jason's mind, I did promise her, didn't I?

Jason lifts his head, shaking it a little to clear his thoughts.

He had made his bed, and now he was laying in it. And it wasn't the one that had you and your shared child in it.

He picked up the phone, cleared his throat, and redialed.

He ignored the tears still falling down his face.

And the sight of your contact that was still favourited.

my bad guys I was in a mood...

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Could we get the Claymore Queens (and anyone else of your choice) reacting to their SO trying to be tough for their sake, not saying anything, not wincing (or trying not to), not complaining, although they're not in the best condition?

(Genshin Impact) Clorinde, Eula, Dehya, Beidou, Navia, Noelle, Furina and Xinyan's S/O trying to tough out their injuries

"Nah, I'd win." - Me at 1hp to my friends after getting hit by a boss's move dead on.

Clorinde has been in so many duels to the point where she can tell someone is bluffing, simply by their body language alone.

S/O was heavily injured: their legs were slightly trembling, breathing heavy, and weapon shaking.

And she's only glanced at them for a few seconds. They were in no condition to keep going, even if they insisted otherwise.

(Clorinde) "You need to rest, S/O. If we get into another fight, you've already lost."

She rests a firm but affectionate hand onto their shoulders in an attempt to get them to relax.

(Clorinde) "Getting yourself killed will not prove to me that you are strong."

Eula frowns the moment she hears her S/O say they're fine.

She doesn't even need to look at them, Eula immediately turns around and tells them what they need to hear.

(Eula) "You are not fine. Tend to your wounds, I won't be the one dragging your unconscious body back to Mondstadt."

Though her words are harsh, it comes from a place of concern and love.

She'd prefer not to have S/O injured at all and be the one in their shoes instead, but it'd at least make her heart rest easier knowing they were out of harm's way and recovering.

(Eula) "At the very least, just wrap the bandages around yourself."

Dehya scoffs and crosses her arms, shoulders sagging as she raises a single eyebrow.

(Dehya) "Psh, yeah right. I'm sure that blood dripping down your arms means you're completely rarin' to go, right?"

She shakes her head as she forces them to sit down, and with her arm strength and S/O's injuries, it is very easy to do.

(Dehya) "Sit still for a sec, you're not fooling anyone."

Dehya knows they weren't trying to worry her, but if anything this was doing the opposite.

...Then again, she can't exactly blame them. She'd probably do the same right now.

Beidou lightly punches their arm, and when S/O yelps out, that solidifies her decision.

(Beidou) "Thought so. You're sitting this one out for now."

Beidou's top priority is always the safety of her crew, S/O was no exception.

She doesn't take no for an answer easily, and Beidou does not care how much S/O tries to convince her otherwise.

(Beidou) "You'd convince me a lot more if you weren't hissing every single time my hand brushed against you, y'know."

Navia isn't even listening to S/O try to insist that they're fine.

Navia, along with some bodyguards that appeared out of nowhere, are already tending to their injuries.

(Navia) "We'll get you fixed up in no time, you leave everything to me!"

Her heart is pounding when she's looking at their injuries, trying her best to block the unpleasant thoughts out of her head.

What matters the most right now is that S/O not push themselves anymore for her sake.

Navia needed them to be okay.

(Navia) "No more of that talk, S/O! You're resting here and that's final! Gentlemen, S/O does not move an inch from this spot, understood?"

(Bodguards) "Yes. ma'am!"

Noelle pouts when she sees S/O trying to walk beside her.

Absolutely not! They weren't even in the condition to help her clean.

Granted, not a lot of people can clean an entire wagon just by lifting it with one arm, S/O included, but her point still stands.

(Noelle) "I do not think so! S/O, I ask you leave this work to me! You sit here and rest, I'll clean the rest of this mess up!"

Noelle is twice as determined to ensure not a single enemy gets through her. Her goal was to make S/O not worry, not the other way around!

As a dutiful maid should!

Plus, S/O knows if they try to protest, Noelle is using that superhuman strength to make them stay put.

Furina's fists clench when she sees S/O try to smile despite the heavy hits on their body.

...No. Enough was enough.

S/O would not get themselves hurt anymore for someone like her.

(Furina) "Do you take me for a fool, S/O?! I demand that you take a seat this instant!"

Her expression is angry, angrier than S/O had ever seen Furina.

But it quickly simmers down once her voice starts shaking.

(Furina) "I'd never forgive myself if you tried to keep going simply to not make me worry...Just be honest and tell me you have to rest!"

The irony of being honest was not lost on her, but they already knew the truth about her.

It's only fair that they didn't lie about how they were either.

Xinyan walks in front of S/O, hands on her hips.

(Xinyan) "Heck no, ya ain't fine! Ya look like yer about to keel over!"

She rushes to them and ushers for them to sit on the ground, while getting a few bandages out.

(Xinyan) "'Fine' my butt! You're lookin awful! Please just take a rest!"

A sigh of relief leaves her body once S/O complies, allowing her to tend to all their bruises.

It pained her to even see them this injured, but if anything, they won't strain themselves any further for her.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (7 - Fix the Dead)

Chapter Summary: A conversation with Wanda about the twins’ rapid growth leaves you both struggling with guilt and loss. Clint’s attempt to contact you through a vintage radio ends in disaster, as Wanda tightens her hold on her fragile reality. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.9k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: So, cat's out of the bag--Reader is actually alive. Three more chapters until we close part 1! // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Please, talk to me.”

You look over your shoulder. You've been pretending to sleep for almost an hour now, and just when you thought Wanda had drifted off and you could sneak out to spend some time alone with a book in the living room, she surprises you.

With a soft sigh, you turn to face her. The sight that greets you instantly breaks your heart. Even in the darkness, with only a sliver of blue moonlight seeping through the window to illuminate her face, you can see her lonely, anxious expression.

“What is there to talk about?” you whisper back.

Wanda reaches out to touch your hand, but you pull it back slightly. “I can feel your sadness,” she murmurs. “Is something wrong?”

You take a deep breath, burying half of your face in the pillow, your throat tightens and your eyes begin to sting at her simple inquiry into your well-being. You want to remain silent, but you know you can't—and shouldn't—hide your feelings from Wanda. Your efforts are superfluous anyway, she always has a way of seeing right through you.

You give a small nod, unable to voice out more.

Wanda sits up slightly, propping herself on one elbow. She knows it’s only a matter of time before the doubt and fear catches up to you. “Did I do something?” she asks softly.

You bite your lower lip, struggling to hold back the feelings swelling up inside you like a dam ready to burst. “It's the boys,” you finally say.

Her disarming green eyes search yours earnestly. “What about them?”

You sit up fully, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “They're growing up too fast, Wanda. One moment they're babies—I’ve barely held them—and the next they're ten years old. I feel like we're missing out on so much.”

Wanda swallows hard. The twins’ childhood has lasted barely a week. Having lost her own childhood at a very young age, she knows the pain of missing out, and she desperately wants her children to experience a proper childhood. But here in Westview, Wanda has learned to look on the brighter side of things. At least you both have Tommy and Billy; you're a complete family. They're happy with who they are and what you have together as a family. At least you're here with her, raising them, no matter how short the time given to both of you.

She reaches for your hand again, and this time you let her hold it. “They're just exploring their abilities,” she says, repeating the assurances she's been telling herself. “You know how kids are…”

You don’t look entirely convinced by that, so Wanda sits up too, tightens her grip on your hand. “They're special. You know that their abilities make them different,” she points out.

“Different doesn't mean we have to skip their entire childhood,” you reply bitterly. “I didn't get to see their first steps, hear them say ‘Mama’ for the first time. Those moments are gone, and I can't get them back.”

Beside you, she tenses. You don’t need to look to know she understands—she wasn’t there for those moments with the boys either.

“Doesn't it bother you?” you ask. “Even a little?”

Wanda glances away for a second, quickly blinking back any sign of weakness before she looks at you again. “It does. But I've been so focused on keeping everything together that I didn't stop to think about what we might be losing.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, feeling bad for thinking Wanda didn’t care. She just seems so… tolerant of it all.

“I’m sorry,” you say, scooting closer and wrapping your arms around her. “I bet you wanted those milestones just as much as I do. Just…forget I said anything.”

Wanda leans into your embrace. “No, you’re right to bring it up. They’re missing out on so many things, too.”

“How can we fix this? Can we even fix it?” you ask.

Wanda understands it’s not about whether she can intervene—it’s about whether she should. She could easily use her powers to stop the boys from skipping ahead. But it’s the ethics of it that she’s wrestling with ever since she did it to you. 

“Maybe next time, I could… ensure things go differently?” she suggests carefully. 

The implication of her words doesn’t go over your head. “Wanda, we can’t do that,” you tell her softly. “I... I don’t think we should do anything without their consent, even if we think it’s for the best.”

Wanda pulls back in shame. “You’re right. I’ve been making too many decisions for everyone.”

You gently hold her cheek, making her look at you. “It's okay, Wanda.”

She fights the urge to disagree, to shake her head and confess that it's not okay. She's made these choices for you too many times, and it’s clearer now than ever how much she’s overstepped, compromising your privacy and trust.

“Maybe we can talk to them?” you suggest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You think they’ll listen?”

You offer her a sleepy, crooked smile. “I hope so,” you say. “But even if they don't, we'll be there for them, whatever they choose.”

You gently coax her to lie back down, and Wanda instinctively pulls your head to her chest, letting you rest your head against her. This time, you drift off quickly, soothed by the steady beat of her heart into a deep and dreamless sleep.

–

“Why keep it a secret?” Monica demands though not unkindly. She can’t wrap her head around why you’d choose to disappear and fake your own death, especially now that Wanda is back from the Snap. While it's undoubtedly a relief to learn that someone isn't dead, Monica can't help but feel disappointed by this turn of events.

All this time, they believed they could persuade Wanda to abandon her fantasy in Westview. But now, with everything she desires apparently right here, why would she ever choose to leave?

And more importantly, how would she ever allow any of them to leave?

“Also, how do we know you’re not lying again?” Darcy adds quickly.

Clint raises a hand to calm the room, nodding toward the television where you just appeared, very much alive. “Clearly, there's evidence that she's there,” he says calmly, pointing out the obvious. “Living and breathing just like the rest of us.”

Everyone quiets down, accepting his point. It checks off one of the many questions they've had since this whole thing started.

“She wanted it this way,” Clint then tells Monica, in response to her question earlier. “Believe me, it hit the kid hard, watching Wanda turn to ashes right before her eyes... I lost my family that day too. But at least I was spared from seeing it happen.”

Monica can only imagine what it was like. She was snapped away, but she counts herself lucky she wasn’t one of those left behind to endure the absence.

“Does Y/N know that Wanda returned from the Snap?” Darcy asks.

“Yeah,” Clint says. Everyone looks at him, expecting more, but it’s clear he meant to keep his answer short and sweet.

Jimmy taps his pen against his notepad. “So how did Wanda find her?”

“That's the million-dollar question,” Clint says, glancing back at the screen now showing only static. “Last I heard from Y/N was about five months ago. She settled in Reykjavik. Wanted to live a quiet life.”

Monica crosses her arms, the gears in her head haven't stopped turning since finding out you’re really alive. “And now she's in Westview, starring in Wanda's show?”

“Doesn't add up,” Clint agrees. “Y/N was determined to stay hidden.”

“Maybe Wanda found out Y/N was alive and pulled her into this reality she made,” Darcy says.

“Or perhaps Y/N reached out to Wanda,” Jimmy suggests.

“She wouldn’t,” Clint counters gruffly, dismissing the idea outright. After a second, he adds, “And if Y/N didn't want to be found, she wouldn’t be. She was always skilled at vanishing.”

Monica thinks it over. “But Wanda's powers have grown exponentially. Maybe she picked up on Y/N’s presence somehow.”

“Still doesn't explain why Y/N would play along,” Clint counters. “I know her. She wouldn’t agree to this.”

Darcy shrugs. “Unless she’s being controlled by Wanda.”

Clint clenches his jaw. “Y/N's strong-minded. It'd take a lot to manipulate her. Besides, Wanda wouldn’t do that to her.”

“Clearly,” Darcy scoffs. Clint’s lips press into a thin line, struggling to hold back a retort to that.

Jimmy flips through his notes. “From what we've observed, she seems... compliant. But there are moments where she looks almost aware.”

“You noticed that from the show?” Clint asks.

“Not from the show,” Monica clarifies, standing up. “From me.”

Clint gives her a puzzled look.

“Oh, I forgot to mention—I’ve been inside the Hex.”

“You were there? How did you manage to get out?” Clint asks, both horrified and a little impressed.

Monica sighs. “I mentioned something that referenced the real world. Wanda didn't like it. She literally threw me out of town.”

Clint runs a hand through his hair, processing this new information. “So, she really is controlling everything in there, and anyone who challenges that gets expelled?”

“Exactly,” Monica nods. “And now that we’ve found out that the real Y/N is in there with her, it looks like Wanda’s got everything she wants. That throws a wrench in our plans.”

Clint rubs his chin thoughtfully. “And your plan was to...?”

“To...” Monica trails off, suddenly realizing how naive it sounds. “...talk her out of it.”

Clint furrows his brow and lets out a noncommittal “Hmmm.”

“I know how it sounds,” Monica says, a hint of color rising in her cheeks. “But I thought if I could just reach her, reason with her, maybe I could get through. I've lost people too—”

“We all have,” Clint replies. “Though maybe not to the extent she has.”

“Parents, brother, best friend, lover...” Darcy ticks off Wanda’s losses on her fingers. “That's pretty much every key relationship in a person's life.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Jimmy asks, turning to Clint, who looks like he’s been hit with a freight train over the last five minutes. Overwhelmed would be an understatement—he probably needs an Advil after this conversation.

Clint exhales sharply, mulling it over while the others watch him, waiting.

“I'm usually a man of action,” he says slowly, “but sometimes it's better to try talking before jumping into a fight. Only, I don't think it's Wanda we should be trying to reach out to.”

“Then who?” Monica asks.

Clint licks his lips. “Y/N.”

–

“Where’s Sparky?”

It's odd to see the boys without their four-legged companion ever since they adopted him. He's been their whole world lately, and even Wanda spends her breaks between chores playing with the puppy. 

Billy and Tommy exchange uneasy glances. “He... ran out the front door,” Billy says, his voice papery-thin.

“What do you mean he ran out?”

“We tried to catch him, but he was too fast,” Tommy reasons.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Guys, you can't just let your pet run off like that. What if he'd been hit by a car? I'm… I’m really disappointed.”

“We’re sorry,” they mumble, eyes fixed on the floor.

“This is why I asked you boys to wait,” you say gently. “Maturity doesn’t just come from aging yourselves up—it takes time and experience. Do you understand why that matters now?”

They nod, a little slower this time. “We understand,” Billy says quietly.

“Alright,” you sigh, unable to stay upset for long. “Let’s go find Sparky. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

The three of you set out into the neighborhood, calling Sparky's name. It's around four in the afternoon, with about two hours of daylight left—plenty of time to search. After half an hour of knocking on doors and showing neighbors pictures of the scruffy Jack Russell, you begin to worry that finding him might require a more extensive search. The boys look really upset, and you feel guilty about reprimanding them earlier, even though you knew you had to be honest about their oversight. Just as you're about to suggest checking the park behind the townsquare, Agnes appears behind the bushes on her lawn, cradling something in her arms.

“Agnes?” you call out, a sick swirl of hope and dread twisting in your stomach.

“I…” Agnes approaches slowly, her face somber. Even before she gets close, you can already tell that whatever she’s carrying is limp and motionless. “I didn’t wanna come until I’d wrapped him up…”

Wanda pulls up just then, fresh from the grocery store. She’s barely out of the car when she notices you and the boys, your somber expressions stopping her in her tracks. She hurries over and follows your gaze. “What's that?” Wanda asks.

“Found him in my azalea bushes,” Agnes says, sidestepping the question. You glance at the twins, your heart sinking at the sight of their scared, regretful faces.

“I don’t know how many leaves he ate,” Agnes continues, her voice dropping even lower. “I didn’t find him until it was too late. Tommy, Billy, I’m so sorry.”

The brothers break forward. “No! Sparky!” they cry, tears streaming down their faces.

Your eyes sting as you pull them close. “I’m so sorry, guys,” you whisper, holding them tightly. They cling to you, their tear-soaked faces pressed against your shirt, and for a moment, the world feels still. But a moment later, they pull back, exchanging a glance—a silent conversation you’ve come to recognize all too well.

“Wait,” you say in panic, quickly stepping between them, as if the act alone could stop whatever plan is forming in their heads. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Boys, stop,” Wanda says, kneeling down to their level. “The urge to run from this feeling is powerful. But growing up isn't the way to avoid getting hurt. It…it teaches you to face it, feel it…learn from it. Trust me, I know.”

Billy wipes his eyes. “But it's too sad,” he whispers.

“I—”

Tommy, unlike his brother, has fire in his eyes. “You can fix anything, Mom. Fix the dead,” he pleads.

“You can do that?” comes Agnes’ voice behind her. 

You turn to your wife, who seems struck silent by Tommy's request. You know Wanda is powerful, her abilities growing stronger by the day, but reversing the natural order of things—that feels impossible and wrong.

“Some things can't—and shouldn't—be fixed,” you say, looking from one twin to the other. “Some things are final.”

“It's not fair,” Billy mumbles, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

You swallow hard. “I know. But maybe we can give Sparky a proper goodbye.” Agnes takes that as her cue to hand Sparky back to the boys. Wanda stands a few steps away, her face unreadable. The twins clutch the dog tightly, tears streaming down their cheeks.

You reach out toward your wife. “Honey—”

But Wanda steps further back, her eyes avoiding yours. “I... I need to start dinner,” she mutters, turning away before you can say more.

“Wait, can we—” you start, but Wanda’s already turning away, disappearing into the house.

–

The boys try to skip dinner, claiming they're not hungry, so you play your ace and order pizza, knowing they can't say no to that. Wanda just gives you a wary look and announces she's heading to bed early. You make a point of eating a good portion of Wanda’s dinner—not just to avoid waste but because you genuinely enjoy her cooking—before you tuck the boys in for the night.

After making sure they're settled, you decide to check on Wanda. You find her in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window.

“Wanda?” you say softly.

She doesn't turn. “Are the boys okay?” she asks quietly.

“They're handling it,” you reply, approaching the bed. “They needed you.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I couldn't... I didn't know what to say.”

“You don’t have to fix everything,” you say softly, sitting beside her. Your hand rests on her shin, fingers starting to massage in slow, soothing circles. “Sometimes just being there is enough.”

When she finally looks at you, your breath catches. Her eyes are swollen, red from crying. You reach for her hand, but she keeps it clenched in her lap. “I feel like I’m letting them down. Letting you down,” Wanda says quietly.

“Are you kidding? You’re an amazing mom to our boys. And the best wife I could ever ask for.”

She scrunches her nose, clearly struggling to accept your words. You smile, finding it endearing how shy she still gets whenever you compliment her.

“Thank you,” she whispers, lacing your fingers together before kissing the back of your hand.

“Have you eaten anything?” you ask.

Wanda shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Well, let's fix that,” you say, standing up, pulling her with you. “Come downstairs with me.”

“But you've already had dinner,” Wanda says.

You smile. “There's always room for dessert.”

–

Darcy practically jumps out of her seat, pointing excitedly at the screen. “That's our shot!”

Monica, Jimmy, and Clint look up from the reports scattered across the table, their brows furrowed in confusion. Hayward’s team is still stuck, unable to figure out how to get equipment through the barrier without it being warped into something unrecognizable. The working theory is that anything era-appropriate to Wanda’s “show” might make it through intact.

“A shot at what?” Jimmy asks.

“Reaching Y/N through Wanda's kitchen radio!” Darcy exclaims, already grabbing her coat. The others scramble to follow her outside to where her equipment is set up, ready to put their old theory to the test. 

Darcy starts adjusting the dials on a makeshift transmitter hooked up to a vintage-looking radio. “If we can sync up with the frequency of the broadcast, we might be able to get a message through,” she reminds them, her breath forming clouds in the cold.

Clint eyes the gadgets cluttering the back of the truck. “Is this really going to work?”

Darcy smirks. “Well, considering traditional methods aren't exactly panning out, it's worth a try.”

“Someone should keep an eye on things from the inside,” Monica surmises.

“I'll head back and keep watch,” Jimmy volunteers, already walking back to the tent. “I’ll radio in if it works.”

Monica turns to Clint with a thoughtful expression. “Who do you think should try talking to Y/N?”

“I'll give it a try,” he says. “Maybe hearing a familiar voice will help snap her out of it.”

Monica nods. “Good idea. She trusts you.”

Darcy comes up to them with the transmitter. “Alright, it's ready to go. Just press this button when you're ready to speak,” she instructs, handing the device to Clint.

Monica grabs her radio and contacts Jimmy. “Agent Woo, what's the situation inside?”

“Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Y/N is alone in the kitchen, looks like she's preparing dinner.”

“Thanks,” Monica smiles slightly. “Perfect timing. She's alone—we can reach her now.”

Clint nods, stepping closer to the microphone. “Here goes nothing,” he mutters. He presses the button and speaks into the microphone. “Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

–

You’re pouring two glasses of wine, waiting for dinner to finish heating, when the old radio by the sink crackles to life.

“Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

You freeze, hand hovering over the glass. The voice is faint, broken, but you heard your name. 

And his.

Clint? Why does that sound so familiar?

You glance at the radio, its dial unmoved. Adjusting the antenna slightly, you try to wait for another message to come through, but only static follows. You resume what you’re doing, only for the radio to speak again—directly to you, it seems.

“Jesus, Y/N, wake up! Come on!”

Your hand trembles violently, forcing you to set the wine bottle down before it slips from your grasp.

Heart pounding, you stare at the radio. “Hello?” you whisper, not really sure you believe what's happening. It feels like a dream. Other than your wife, who could even make a radio do this? 

And why would they need to talk to you?

“Finally! We've been trying to reach you. Listen, you have to—”

Before he can finish, a sharp burst of static erupts. The radio sparks violently and explodes right in front of you. You barely have time to shield yourself as fragments fly past, one slicing across your cheek. Wincing, you touch your face and your fingers come away smeared with blood.

“What was that?” Wanda's voice calls from the other room. You can hear her hurried footsteps approaching, but you can’t seem to move or say anything, too shocked to respond.

She appears in the doorway, eyes widening as she sees the blood on your cheek and the smoking wreckage of the radio. 

“You're hurt!”

In a flash, she’s on you, her hands checking your face, her thumb brushing near the cut. She tries to wipe away the blood, but it keeps coming, stubborn and unrelenting.

“I-It's nothing…”

“We need to clean this up,” she says, too calm, like it’s normal to find you bleeding after a radio exploded.

“I'm fine, really,” you insist weakly, but she’s already fetching a cloth and pressing it against your wound.

As she tends to you, her eyes dart quickly to the destroyed radio. “These old things can be so dangerous,” she murmurs.

“Yeah…” 

Someone named Clint had tried to reach you. Who is he? And why did the radio explode? There are too many questions swimming in your head, overwhelming enough to numb the sting of your wound.

“You're shaking,” Wanda notes softly. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“Maybe,” you concede, allowing her to guide you to a chair.

She kneels in front of you, dabbing gently at your cheek. “It's not deep. You'll be okay.”

“Thanks,” you mumble absently. 

Wanda purses her lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re quiet for a second, unsure if you should tell Wanda what just happened or ask her about Clint. But something inside holds you back.

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for her hand as she tends to your wound, and lightly kissing her palm. “Promise.”

–

Jimmy stares at the screen, where the words “We'll be right back!” are now plastered, replacing the live feed. The broadcast had cut out the moment you answered Clint's call with a hesitant hello. He runs outside, where Clint, Monica, and Darcy are huddled around the equipment. The cool air bites at his cheeks, but he barely notices.

“The broadcast’s down,” Jimmy says, slightly winded. “The second Y/N responded to the radio, it switched to a standby screen.”

Clint's hand falls away from the microphone. He knew it was a long shot with Wanda just a room away. “Now she knows we're trying to make contact,” he remarks grimly. “I’m sure Wanda will find a way to block any future transmissions from here out.”

Darcy doesn’t look up, her fingers flying over her tablet. She curses under her breath, scowling at the screen. “Yeah, looks like she’s already on it,” she mutters.

Monica rubs her hands together, exhaling into them for warmth. “Alright, clearly this isn’t working. We need a new plan.”

“Uh, guys…?” Darcy cuts in, looking around. “Is it just me, or does it seem way emptier out here tonight?”

Everyone stops, taking in their surroundings. Sure enough, the area is quieter than usual—just a couple of guards lingering near the barrier and not much else.

Jimmy crosses his arms, his eyes fixed on the tent serving as a Command Center. “Either everyone’s on break at the same time, or Hayward’s pulled them all into a meeting.”

They exchange uneasy glances, the same thought running through their heads. What’s this meeting about—and why does it feel like they’ve been deliberately left out?

[leashybebes]

tentatively excited for this fic 👀👀 gonna take a little while because work (ugh) and i need some time to actually plot it out and figure out the structure and whether i actually wanna bite the bullet and do the more complicated version. basically we are looking at a long term fic where they find each other again a way down the line so I'm not sure how much of what i have so far will make it verbatim into the final thing but for now, have some sal!!

The first time Tommy's aware of waking up, the room is dark - as dark as hospitals ever get, anyway. He can't feel much of anything, just a sort of full-body ache that speaks of the good drugs. His right leg looks suspiciously bulky under the covers, so definitely in a cast, from his ankle up past his knee. The mask on his face is annoying in a dull, distant way, and the longer he's awake, the more his head hurts, making itself known above the general thrum of dull pain.

He can feel sleep already threatening again so he takes the time he has to look around. He's in an individual room, there's a drip going into his hand, and he can hear the low-level hum of hospital noises - staff talking quietly, machines beeping. And - and Sal's asleep in the chair next to the bed, third day stubble on his face, snoring quietly. Tommy feels a rush of affection for his old friend as sleep tugs at him.

The next time he wakes up, it's to the sound of Sal talking on the phone.

"Okay, I gotta go, sweetie," he says, as soon as he realises Tommy's awake. "Be good for your mom. Uncle Tommy says hi."

Tommy wiggles his fingers in an attempt at a wave. Sal rolls his eyes and hits the call button, tossing his phone onto the table at Tommy's bedside.

"Jesus Christ, Kinard. Drive much?"

Tommy rolls his eyes, gestures at the mask on his face.

"Nah, that's staying on," Sal promises. Tommy rolls his eyes and gives Sal the finger.

"Happened?" he manages.

"Lady coming the other way lost control, sounds like you tried to swerve, over-corrected, rolled a couple times."

"Well, shit. She okay?"

"Couple scrapes," Sal says with a shrug.

"Truck?"

"Oh, completely fucked," Sal says cheerfully. "You want me to call the kid?"

Tommy blinks, confused. "Kid?"

"Buckley," Sal says, like it's obvious.

Tommy gives him the best stink-eye he can muster. "Broke up, asshole."

"Yeah, but like. Two weeks ago. I know you, Kinard. You get your lil claws in deep. Dontcha think he'd wanna know?"

He probably would, Tommy thinks. He'd probably call out from work and jump in the Jeep and gun it all the way up to Sacramento.

"Don't, Sal."

"Yeah, yeah," Sal grumbles.

"Hey. Promise."

Sal rolls his eyes. "Okay, okay. Swear."

Tommy nods, closes his eyes. The last thing this situation needs is Evan Buckley's particular brand of chaotic, full-on care.

"How - how bad?" Tommy manages, gesturing down towards his leg.

Sal's pause says it all, really. "Think they're more worried about your big, dumb head for now."

"Sal."

"Let - let me get a doctor, okay?"

Tagging some folks who requested it. Let me know if you want in (or out! I won't be offended, this is v definitely not a quick fix-it fic and they're gonna miss a lot of each other's lives so I know it won't be everyone's thing!)

@silversky9 @typicalopposite @my-ari-fan-blog1

[ifyoucandaniel]

I want to thank you for making your list of recommended long batfam fics. I have been making my way through it and I am really enjoying them! ESPECIALLY cards on the table (I also love Dark Matter but I had already read it). Please let us know if you ever get more long batfam fic recs 🥺

okay so ive been waiting to answer this until i had gathered a good chunk of new long fics and ive been getting a lot of similar messages asking for recommendations, so here is another list of my fav long batman fics!

Jason and the Three Terrors by @cdelphiki, 220k, ongoing, T. if i can get you to read one thing, let it be this. ohhh my god where to even begin, this is a fic where jason stays with the league after his dip in the lazarus pit for a little while and winds up being charged with getting damian, his cousin, and his sister out of the league safely. this fic is just so fucking good, cdelphiki always writes such seamless relationship growth and watching jason go from "im dropping these brats off first chance i get" to "im a single mother of three and i need to provide for my kids" is phenomenal. 1000/10, the writing, the kids, the relationships, please do yourself a favor and read this.

A Collision of Masks by Movaz, 169k, completed, T. !! guys. this is such a good dick grayson-centric fic. this is set in an AU where batman never joined the justice league so the justice league knows very little about batman inc. and consequently dick never joins YJ so the YJ team is tasked with checking out a new hero called nightwing in bludhaven and police officer grayson is tasked with helping the team in their investigation :) really good fic exploring dick juggling all his identities and finally gaining people he can rely on! i actually did a bind of it so you know i love this story so much

Life Happens by @cdelphiki, 176k, complete, G. ok so this fic is probably one of the most beautiful stories of growth and love i've read. its about tim and damian being transported from their world into ours where they're only comic book characters and they start to build a life for themselves here. cdelphiki is one of the most amazing authors, im currently going through all of their works, but this one has just stayed with me and i dont think anyone should pass it up. watching tim and damian grow together and seeing damian have a real childhood and just the whole concept of life happening wether you want it to or not is so beautifully done. cannot recommend enough.

Honoring Promises by LananiA3O, completed, 14k, T. okay this isnt actually a long fic, but its one of my favorite fics ever and i need it on this list. if you're like me and you love UTRH aus where instead of sticking around as red hood after bruce threw a batarang at his throat jason fucks off and disappears to live a normal life, this is for you. from dick's pov, he realizes jasons last letter was a last attempt at reaching out and stalks him until he finds out what really happened to his little brother. i think about this every day and wish it was 10000 words long

The Time Before by @cdelphiki, 80k, completed, G. at this point this is basically just a cdelphiki fic rec lmao when i said everything by them was good, i meant that shit. this is a fic where jason is sent back into time when he was 9 years old but still has all his memories from the future. he goes to bruce for help despite wanting to do literally anything else and is surprised to realize maybe everything isn't how he remembers it 10 years in the future and maybe theres a chance he can go home when hes older again. once again cdelphiki hitting me in the feels with this one, really amazing study on how time and pain can change how you perceive and remember things and also just forgiveness and fixing mistakes and accepting mistakes were made. very good, highly recommend

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors by Sophene, 80k, completed, batlantern, T. I have no excuse for this, this is such a fun and funny fic i love it so much. basically HOA president single dad bruce with his 10 million adopted kids and then hal jordan moves in next door and plays his music too loud at 10pm on a school night and throws parties and bruce has a stick up his ass about it. i really really love the shift in hal when kyle comes to live with him as his ward (? i cant actually remember if hes adopted or just a ward) and seeing him finally understand why bruce acts the way he does when it comes to his kids. also seeing bruce just being a tired dad 90% of the fic when he isnt glaring at hal is so good.

Option C by CasualGeek, 78k, completed, T. this has, in my opinion, a very unique and interesting premise. basically, what if instead of becoming red hood, jason comes back to gotham and manages to get Joker put on trial for the murder of sheila haywood and get the insanity plea thrown out. really interesting approach to batman and joker and jason technically doing things through the legal justice system and what that means for him and the people around him. very good, read it all in one sitting

butcherbird, fly away home by e_va, 41k, completed, M. lost days jason todd loml! basically what if when jason was off on his world tour one of his tutors kidnapped bruce wayne and jason has feelings about it against his will. "what if lost days jason was stuck in the same room as a sick bruce for more than 10 minutes and actually had to talk to him without punching him" AU and i throughly enjoyed it. @darlingatlas recommended this one and she never misses with the jason recs

this kind of weather by r_astra, 55k, completed, T. this is the fic something in the static was originally inspired by and if you know me, i love that series, and i love this fic too. another what if jasons mom didnt die until later and social services gets involved before he can bolt and bruce seeks him out with some very interesting news. i love fics that display jason’s relationship with crime alley and him being one of them. very good, i love jason so much

ok now these aren't actually long fics but i need to get them out here because i love them so much and highly recommend!

To My Brother by a_silly_gander, 7k, completed, T. Lost days jason au where he starts sending post cards from his travels to dick on a whim while we follow his time away and the people he meets. i love this one so much, please read it if you love jason and dick, its so special to me.

Enhanced Fashion Sense is a Perk of Being a Cat by 12pt_timesnewromanfont, 23k, complete, G. selina breaks into drake manor to steal a cat artifact and accidentally meets the drakes ten year old son they left home alone. then she starts keeping tabs on him and eventually adopts him and makes him stray. i really love selina finding tim before bruce and taking care of him <3 10/10 i wish selina would adopt me

[laylainalaska]

I rewatched 8x11 "Life Time" for Reasons and I leave you with Hawkeye being adorable hanging out with Charles in post-op.

I genuinely Do Not Get people who think they don't like each other because we've seen what it looks like when Hawkeye doesn't like people (see: Frank Burns) and it isn't this!!

Although tbh I will say that one thing that I was completely wrong about was that I thought they were more antagonistic to each other in the first half of the episode than they actually are. Welcome to my TED talk.

So I remembered being really annoyed with Charles early on in this episode (in my last watch of it, all of a month ago) because I thought he was being an insensitive jerk while Hawkeye was really suffering (he's holding the guy's aorta together with his hand! while they're pouring ice on him! he's in Pain!), although Charles gets it together later on with the blood transfusion.

But what I hadn't realized yet - not having seen enough episodes to figure this out - is that Hawkeye absolutely will tell Charles to shut up when Charles is genuinely annoying him, and Charles (usually) does.

But, in this episode, Hawkeye doesn't!! Because what Charles is doing here is distracting Hawkeye from the fact that he is cold, and miserable, and hurting and stressed. If Hawkeye wanted him to stop, he would just say so.

I like how you can see Charles, who is busy with another surgery, immediately tune in on Hawkeye as soon as they come in with Hawkeye's hand in the guy's chest, figure out what's happening, and then switch to Joking In The OR mode.

Again: if Hawkeye wanted him to shut up, he'd say so. We've seen him annoyed with Charles in past episodes, and this ain't it.

In fact, there's only one point in this episode when Hawkeye is genuinely angry with him. It's when Charles is looking at the patient with him, and Charles Charlessplains that Hawkeye is doing the surgery Wrong.

Charles tells him to just fix the aorta. Hawkeye, who is standing there holding it together with his hands, is visibly furious.

Charles: Patch it with one of the arterial grafts. Hawkeye *screaming internally*: Can't be done! Here's why!! (subtext: you Asshole)

And Charles looks down at the patient - and realizes he's right, and immediately backs down, at least for Charles versions of backing down.

Charles: I suggest you prepare for a graft. Hawkeye, who was planning this all along and just suggested it a minute ago: There's an idea.

And a minute later, they're back to joking and being warm with each other again.

Hawkeye: *snarks at him about how this is Charles's idea now, actually, so it better work* Charles: *rolls his eyes*

But the point is, Hawkeye doesn't just roll over and put up with Charles being a jerk in ways Hawkeye doesn't like. Hawkeye is in charge of the OR, and Hawkeye enforces that - he does it gently, but he definitely does it, and if Charles is joking around with him when Hawkeye is working or distracted, and Hawkeye doesn't completely cold-shoulder him or shut him down, it is because Hawkeye wants him to. Even at Hawkeye's expense, because being mutual assholes to each other is one of Hawkeye's love languages and he and Charles both get that about each other.

Charles isn't the only person who banters with Hawkeye throughout this entire sequence - Hawkeye absolutely welcomes distractions from BJ, the nurses, arguing with Margaret, Klinger barging in to talk about baklava and do a Colonel Potter impression: Hawkeye wants to be distracted, he doesn't want to stand around thinking about where his hands are or what's actually happening.

Even later, when he's doing the graft and Charles (completely flattened at this point due to giving blood) is attempting to unnecessarily talk him through it, Hawkeye tells him when he's being overly pedantic ("Charles, it won't be necessary to tell us the incredibly obvious. The merely obvious will do fine.") but he's not shutting him down; he's answering back, having Charles to bounce off of keeps him focused during the surgery, and not inconsiderably, gives Charles something to bounce off of in return, because Charles is doing something fairly uncomfortable and dangerous, too.

I looked up blood transfusion stats .... so apparently in normal circumstances, people are recommended to donate blood no more often than every 2 months. In the show, Charles says it's been five days since the last time. The human body has about 10.5 pints of blood ... So if he gave a pint a few days ago and another pint now, that's (almost) 20% of his total blood volume.

No wonder he passed out; even if they were trying to keep his blood volume up with fluids, he'd still be way down on red blood cells. Apparently losing 20% of your blood volume at once can send you into potentially life-threatening shock. It's actually dangerous!

It's more gradual than that with Charles (plus they're giving him fluids to compensate) but he's definitely going to need a little while to recover. Hawkeye may be sitting with him at the end there partly just to make sure he's okay!

Anyway, though, the point is, Charles is not inflicting his unwanted jerkiness on Hawkeye while Hawkeye is doing something else throughout the first half of this episode. Hawkeye likes distractions like that, he's having a shit day and literally holding this person's life in his hands and if he can just insult someone about grammar, it will give him something to focus on other than the fact that his hand really hurts

Just a reminder that what's going on during this scene is that people are literally pouring ice cubes on Hawkeye's hand, which he has been holding in the same position, clamping a guy's aorta shut, for the last 15 minutes.

If Hawkeye didn't want this to be happening, he would not be participating in it! This kind of thing literally keeps him sane. And considering that Charles spends the first half of the episode working on a patient, it's the only way he can help when Hawkeye is in distress in front of him.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[ephemeral--dreams]

Making you cry during a fight (2) - Scaramouche, Yae, Kaeya

Okay guys here you go never ask me for anything ever again /j

(part 1)

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Scaramouche

There's a sort of deep, instinctive fear that takes root inside the place where a heart would be, as he watches tears fall after a few too-harsh words. 

He's hurt you. He's been careless, he's been too difficult, too much - and it's going to drive you away. You're going to abandon him because of this incident, surely. Why would you stay with someone who makes you cry? 

It's… it's not a feeling he's dealt with for many years. The fear of being left. He has not allowed anyone to get close enough to him to have any concern over whether they're around or not. Scaramouche had learned his lesson about getting attached and having emotion, after all. He had spat out whatever  bitter words he pleased and felt nothing when he upset anyone he spoke to.

But those days are past, and while that's a good thing in many ways, right now it feels anything but. 

"I-"

"Sorry. I shouldn't be crying," the way you apologize as if you're the one in the wrong stabs right through him. You're the one crying, yet he is being wounded just as much. It's an awful thing, caring. "Just. Just give me a moment…"

Scaramouche hesitates. He's paralyzed, caught up in the idea that anything he does or says may make things worse. But what wins out is the idea of fixing it, fixing things before you give up on him—

"Stop it. You shouldn't be the one saying sorry here. I shouldn't have said that to you, alright? You should know better than to take everything I say so seriously, honestly, I-" he sighs, irritated with himself more than you, before pulling you into his embrace. You don't pull away. Good. Maybe he hasn't entirely fucked things up. "...I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Yae

Yae Miko is not the sort of person who yells during a fight. Or at any time, really. So that hadn't been at all what had happened during your little conflict. 

Rather, her words were pointed to hit where it hurt, an attempt to shut down whatever silly human nonsense you thought was worth causing a riot over. Problems came and went, and most weren't nearly as important as they may seem in the moment. Living many years had led her to this conclusion. She was a busy woman who had little interest in wasting her time arguing. 

...Calculating and perhaps dismissive she may be, but she isn't cold. Yae still very much has a heart, and it skips a beat when she realizes you're nowhere to be found at the usual time she would meet with you after finishing her shrine duties. Surely you weren't that upset over it all, right? 

No, you couldn't be still lingering on the issue hours later… 

Well, you could. Others were far more sensitive to these things, a fact she often forgot. Yae should know better. Isn't she used to highly emotional people, after all? At least your tantrums weren't going to practically destroy the nation…

She finds you at the foot of the mountain, sitting and idly staring into the distance. The tear tracks on your face are all too telling. 

Yae is not above realizing when she has done something wrong. Though she's also not one to openly apologize. She doesn't do much of anything openly. 

"You don't listen to me," you tell her. 

"Well, I'll try to listen more, then. Is that satisfactory?" She offers a hand to you. You wait a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull you up. "Just remember to consider my side of things as well. We can work on it… But let's not linger on this too long. Time is fleeting for mortals like you, hm?"

Kaeya

Kaeya is excellent at one thing - avoidance. In fact, he's been successfully avoiding you ever since your fight a couple of days ago. It's easier to simply wait until you've both cooled off. 

That's what he tells himself. It's certainly not  that the fight made him feel anxious. He's not running away from his problems, of course not.

(He's lying to himself. One wrong word and you'll leave. He knows that. It's bad enough that you had an argument, archons forbid he confronts you and it's the last straw.)

So Kaeya carefully stays out of your way, doesn't speak to you, doesn't let you catch sight of him. He'll have to deal with things eventually, he knows, but… Until then, he's content to keep things this way. Four days in you finally seek him out yourself, looking exhausted and absolutely miserable. 

"Can we- can we stop fighting? You're right, I'm wrong, all that-" He can only watch as you start breaking down in front of him, a cold, sinking feeling of guilt settling in. "...Just stop ignoring me, please?"

His life has been filled with bad decisions - it seems that he's made yet another, by avoiding you so long. Now Kaeya is faced with your tears as you practically beg for his attention. It's quite the opposite of what he intended. He reaches a careful hand to brush them away. "Shh, shh. No more, alright?"

You sniffle, looking up at him. "You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. I never was. We can talk about it later, okay? Let me make you feel better."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if

What if Ghost was a knight (again) and then there's a spoiled, presumptuous lady who's bored (again)

She's the kind of princess who was dearly loved because she was a girl. No one knows why, because everyone knows girls are a liability. But she has been treasured and sheltered all her life, she always got everything she wanted, and now she's stupid enough to fall for Simon who has lived a life full of war and torment and who is not the kind of stray dog you would want to feed.

Our poor lady doesn't know she's playing with fire when she's toying with her father's (Price?) most loyal soldier: a brooding, tall, broad man who got his knighthood after this campaign or that. This outlander, Simon, catches her attention because he rarely speaks and never smiles, but makes her smallclothes wet because he has an ill look about him: a broken nose and a thin lipped, downturned mouth. This sir is looking everyone from under his brow like they're mere children in his eyes. The only time she's heard him speak is when he's barking orders in the courtyard.

She teases and teases and teases him: flirting every chance she can get, giving him soft brushes that barely remain within the bounds of propriety. She bestows heated stares that linger a little too long, she licks and parts her lips when they walk past each other in the cold, dimly lit corridors of the castle. He never returns any of her flirts.

Except the stares.

She can feel his eyes on her even when she's not looking. That coal-like stare is fixed on her wherever she goes: it's hot and cold at the same time, like embers that are kindling under long-forgotten ashes.

He's interested… But only in a way that a hungry, beaten, suspicious dog is interested when it's staring at a meaty bone, trying to decode if it's a treat or a trap.

He finally has enough one day when she dares to smile at him: softly, knowingly, like a whore in a tavern.

The gauntlet closes around her neck like an iron collar. She can smell the horses and the sweat and the dirty leather as the man she has dreamed of seizes her and pushes her back against a wall.

"Is this what you want? Hm?"

She finally hears him speak: dark, gravelly, and borderline exhausted from all the games she plays. Were he to hold her a little more tightly, she would call it a choke, a soft and slow strangling. The intensity is enough to make her heart flutter and her stare escape somewhere to the grey stone wall. There's no way she can meet that heated stare, now filled with flames and lust.

The knight she used to fantasize about is about to snap. The stoic, cold man is about to lose control at any given moment, and she's about to lose her maidenhood along with that shattered self-control.

He presses his whole body against her: leather and steel and hardened muscle, all that rough, well fed, thick flesh forged in countless battles is pressed against her frame like she is nothing but a flower. Her woolen dress is a poor shield against all the hard ridges of his armour, the pommel of his sword digs into her side painfully, but she pays it no mind. There's something equally as hard and demanding pressed against the apex between her legs. She's forced to rise to her toes from the way he drives his swollen cock up her cunt, and even if there's layers and layers of clothing between them, she can feel the heat of him.

"'S not a good idea to tease a starved dog," he snarls while watching her lose her confidence. All of it, because it was only ever a charade. A silly daydream of a silly young woman, just an attempt to distract herself, a pastime game that happened to turn into a dangerous obsession.

And he growls. He actually growls like a hound when she's suddenly so weak she can't even provide him with an answer. It's a dark rumble that meets her chest, a hot, slow breath that passes across her frightened skin. She feels like floating: his cock raises her from the ground as he tries to fuck into her through their clothes. The ironclad hand has never even seen mercy as it turns her head to the side for him to have a good sniff of her neck and hair.

"Sir," her lips tremble; her whole jaw is making it clear that she's about to cry soon. There's not enough stones on the wall for her to count if he decides to take her here. "Simon…? Please, sir. I'm a virgin…"